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#harry styles smut fic
atlafan · 1 year
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“Well, go on.” He says as he spreads his legs just a little wider. “Come get what you came in here for.”
The smirk on his face and the bulge in his pants are making your race. Harry doesn’t usually wear such well-fitted slacks. He looked so fucking good today. It was almost unfair.
This had to be a trap. He’s pulling one over on you so he has a reason to go to HR and give you a demerit so you won’t be eligible for partner this year. You and Harry have always been competitive with each other, but it was fun. There was no real malice behind it. You’re friends, sort of. At the least, you’re certainly not enemies. He’s two years ahead of you and is already a partner. If anything, he’s been a mentor in a weird way.
It’s around 7:30PM. Most of you are still working. It’s not uncommon to work long days at a law firm. You usually leave around 8 most nights. You and Harry had been looking for a particular file all day. He found it, and let you know. Which is why you’re standing in his office right now. He’s never presented himself to you like this before. You always thought he was cute, but you brushed it away because work was the main priority. Never mix business with pleasure. Never.
He’s sitting in his chair, slightly reclined with his legs spread. His head is cocked to the side waiting for your response.
“H-Harry, I-“ He leans forward and taps on the file on his desk. You sigh internally with relief. “Thank you for your help today.” You mutter while you cross the room to his desk to get what you came in for.
“No thanks necessary. By helping you, you’re helping me. Can’t really trust a first year intern with this specific assignment, can I?”
“No.” You answer quietly as you shake your head.
“You should go home, it’s late.” He stands up and adjusts the waist of his pants. “I’ll walk out with you.”
“I still have a lot to do.”
“I wasn’t asking, I was telling. The work will be there tomorrow morning. You can’t do your job right or be a good lawyer if you’re running on an hour of sleep. Did you even eat today?” All you do is blink at him. “That’s what I thought.” He tuts his tongue at you (tsk-tsk sound). “What am I going to do with you? If you insist on continuing to work, why don’t we go out for dinner. We can work on things together while having a nice meal.”
“Oh, Harry, you don’t have to take me to dinner. I have some stuff at home.” Your cheeks are so hot, and your mouth is so dry. He’s never been this forward with you before. Usually your cheeky banter is back and forth, but for whatever reason, he’s making you rather nervous tonight.
“What, like a granola bar?” He scoffs. “You like pasta, let’s get Italian at Rosie’s.”
He puts his hand on the small of your back, guiding you out of his office and over to yours. You grab your coat, and he very kindly carries your bag as you make your way to the elevator.
“You know it’s funny. When I first walked into your office and you were sitting the way you were on top of what you said to me, I thought you were essentially telling me to suck you off.” You laugh as you ride the elevator down. He side eyes you, his lip curling upward. “That would be crazy, right?” A full smirk grows on his face as the elevator dings. “Harry, that would be crazy.” You follow him out, racing to keep up with him. “Right? Right?!”
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enthusiasticharry · 1 year
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© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 — 𝐀𝐔 — 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍, 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 — 𝐎𝐍-𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Fem!Reader x Harry | 𝐓𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 51.1k
𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐒 | 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐑𝐌 | 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐀𝐆
YN spent her life believing that she had to be perfect. As the daughter of a Senator and a Socialite in 1970s Los Angeles, she had to live her life to their standards of perfection. Their perfection wasn't the perfection that YN wanted in her life, and after spending eighteen years in their grasp, one night she finally snaps. It was that night that she met who would soon become her best friend, Vivienne, and the man who would change her life forever. He was the biggest rockstar of the century. Those who didn't want to be him wanted to be with him. YN wanted both of those things. Unfortunately, there are things that no one speaks about when it comes to life as a rockstar, and those were the things that split the two of them apart, no matter how much they tried to prevent it.
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𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐒: 𝟏. This story contains adult themes and language, such as sexual scenes, drug and alcohol abuse and cheating. If you are uncomfortable with any of those, please do not read. 𝟐. This is inspired by Daisy Jones & The Six which is a book by Taylor Jenkins-Reid, but I have tweaked it to match my own ideas and Harry's likeness (a great read, would highly recommend it). 𝟑. This a right person, wrong time storyline meaning that it is probably quite frustrating to read, but all of the best books are. I do fix it in the end, so don't get yourself too frustrated. 𝟒. This book is set throughout the 70s and 80s (what a time to be alive, am I right?) and it will try to make it as historically accurate as possible which shouldn't be too difficult because I am quite obsessed with the 70s. 𝟓. Obviously, I am not a rockstar in the 70s (hopefully I was in another life) but I have done as much research as possible to try and make it accurate. 𝟔. The main thing that I'm asking is for you to enjoy it and let me know what you think. Likes and reblogs are appreciated (as always). Tell everyone you know will enjoy Regret Me, about Regret Me! I'm sure they'll enjoy it too! 𝟕. So sorry, I know I always ramble in these but there are just so many things to say and you guys need to know before you enjoy Regret Me.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: This story includes explicit language, sexual content, alcohol abuse and drug addiction. There will also be other triggering topics, such as character death, so please be aware of that. There are only so many warnings I can give!
Please let me know what you think of Regret Me HERE! I would love to talk to you all about it, just makes me so excited!
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gucciwins · 2 years
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if you’re into it,
this is me kindly requesting a writing piece about h choking because I am UNWELL after seeing that clip from Amsterdam
🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠
because you asked so nicely 😉 it's 2k enjoy, amores
Harry was buzzing. 
The show was a success. The crowd was loud and giving. You couldn't believe you were lucky enough to be there. As much as you love side stage, there's something special about being in the crowd blending in with the fans because no one has a clue to who you are. 
They don't know you're the girl he comes home to after the end of each tour. They don't know you're the girl he calls when he's missing home. They don't know you're the girl that gets him in their bed each night. They don't know you're the girl he sings about each night and that you'd do anything for him in a heartbeat. 
Harry loved the games you played, always leaving him craving more. It made for a much more exciting night when you kept him right on the edge of giving him everything. Tonight, before the show, you had helped him dress. You told him to go with just the tank top tonight, but he countered with not doing that, knowing how jealous you could get, especially when fans speak of him so provocatively. 
He was yours. And no one else's. 
Harry liked playing your game of hide and seek. You hid in the crowd, and he tried his best to find you. It was always a competition, and so far, he was winning. See, whoever found the other got to be in charge for the night in bed. And well, you were always up for tying Harry up. 
Tonight you were aiming to win.
"He's alright, ain't he?" You ask the pink-haired person next to you. 
"Not my type," they respond, "my girlfriend adores him; that's why I'm here." The pink hair person gestures to a petite person a few steps away from you, rainbow boa around their neck paired with an all-denim jumpsuit. 
You giggle, "keep him humble, huh." 
"Some of us have to be immune." That you could agree with, but safe to say you weren't one of them as you had fallen for his charm. 
"Cheers," you raise your drink to them. 
"Chloe." 
"Y/N."
"Cheers, Chloe." 
"Cheers, Y/N." 
You sway to the song's ending when Harry makes his way to the end of the runway where he can see the back of the pit, right where you are. 
"Lot's of chit chat back here, aye," Harry points at you and your new friend, and you know you've been spotted. "Am I not interesting enough?" 
The fans cheer as Harry looks at Chloe and you. You gesture for Chloe to speak, who looks starstruck as their partner holds on tightly to their arm. 
"Umm, well–" they look at you to save them. 
You let out a laugh before waving at him. "Sorry, I was curious about their hair," you yell. "Wanted to know if they did it themselves or at a salon." 
Harry raises his eyebrow in surprise, but you know him well enough to know he's holding back a laugh. "Well?" 
"Well, what?" You reply this is the first time he's acknowledged you in the crowd. 
"What was their answer?" 
You gesture for Chloe to give their response, "my girlfriend did it. She's a cosmetologist." 
"Very well. I quite like it as well. We'll carry on now." Harry turns, walking down the catwalk. "Remember eyes on me. It is my show." 
It seems you have lost. 
Seeing Harry onstage, you knew you'd be in for a hell of a night. His moves were more sensual than ever. You felt your panties dampen as he dragged his hand down his body. Your breath hitched as Harry choked himself during 'Keep Driving.' The touches and moans were getting more out there, and you knew each one was for you. He wanted to have you begging by the time he got off stage. You wouldn't give in so easily. 
The show was over, and after giving Harry a big hug, you were ushered into Harry's car, careful of watchful eyes as you've seen the videos of other shows. Not even three minutes later, Harry is ushered in, and the car is driving away. 
"There's my love." Harry greets you with a sweet kiss on your lips. 
"Nice job out there, rockstar." 
"I aim to please," he teases. 
You scoot closer wanting to be touching him and him touching you. You place your hand in his lap, squeezing three times. Harry presses a kiss to your cheek but doesn't say more, and you continue. You moved your hand up his thigh, and when you were about to slide it over, he placed his hand on top of yours, stopping you. 
"Not tonight, honey." 
You try your best not to pout, but you fail when you hear Harry sigh. Harry lifts your face to look at him, pressing a quick kiss to your pouty lips, "gave it to you good this morning and after lunch, and you still want more. Greedy, baby." 
"Sorry, H." Your frown deepens. "Not tonight. Got it." 
And you leave it at that. 
Or so you thought. 
You head back to your hotel room for the night and go to the bathroom where you would change for the night, wanting to rinse before bed. You managed to remove your jeans and top when you heard Harry calling for you.
"Baby," Harry calls out, "will you come here?" 
"Yes, H?" You paddle hair up and out of your face and make-up, all wiped away. 
Harry sits on the bed's edge in the white tank top and his boxers. His legs are spread wide open, and you see him palming himself—your breath hitches at the sight in front of you. You see how hard he's getting, and you're close to getting on your knees, ready to take him in your mouth.
“Baby,” you choke out, stepping closer. 
Harry shakes his head, halting you in your path to get to him. 
“You weren’t a good girl today, were you, baby,” he’s not asking you; he’s telling you. 
“H, please,” you plead. 
You can feel how soaked your panties are. 
Harry extends his hand, asking you to come to him, and as you go to sit on his lap, he shakes his head, pushing your shoulder down gently to tell you to get on your knees. 
“I found you tonight.” You nod. “What does that mean, baby?” 
“That you won,” you breathe out.
“That’s right, and since you’re a filthy girl who loves everything I give her, I have to decide what not to give you tonight.” Harry’s voice is strict but filth with lust. 
You know what he means. You know what you’re going to be crying and begging for at the end of the night. 
“You’re going to come when I tell you.” 
You whimper, clenching your thighs together. 
“Awe, does my baby not like the sound of that?” 
You nod your head. 
“Maybe you’ll learn to be a good girl,” he purrs. 
Tonight is all about Harry, and when your only job is to please him, there’s no way you weren’t going to have fun. Harry let you take him out of his boxers and throw them over your shoulder as you stare at his hard cock, ready for you.
“Come on, baby. Make me cum.” 
You don’t need to be told twice. You lean in, kissing the tip of his cock. Harry hissed at the touch of your lips. You smirk, knowing he was giving you more power than he thought. You spit on your hand and then begin to move your hand back and forth on the base of Harry’s cock as his breathy moans fill the room. 
“Mouth now, baby.” 
Who are you to deny him? You take him in your mouth, tongue swirling around the tip as you take him in deeper. Harry grips your hair, making you take in more of him down your throat. His groans urge you on letting you know you’re doing good. Your hand moves to play with his balls as you know Harry, one who loves attention and how much closer it brings him to the edge. 
You know Harry’s close when he pushes your head down further. Luckily one of your favorite things is taking Harry down the throat that you know he isn’t close to pushing your limit. You feel him tense, and you’re ready to swallow when he pulls you back. 
“Harry,” you moan.
“Naughty girls, don’t get to see me come.” 
You pout, not liking mean Harry. 
“On the bed.” 
Harry, ever the gentleman helps you up, checking in to see if you are alright and when you nod, he continues. You lay on the bed as Harry gets on top of you, looking down at your body in appreciation. Harry sat you up for a second to get rid of your bra and panties. 
He smirks as he sees how wet you are. 
“Did I get you this wet?”
You nod your head. 
“Verbal answer, baby.” 
“Yes. Always this wet for you.” 
Harry likes your answer because he leans down and begins to place kisses on your body. Your collarbones. Your hips. Your jaw. 
“Kiss me,” you plead, missing his lips against yours.
“No kisses.”
“Harry,” you whine. 
Anything but kisses. 
“No,” Harry tells you again. This time no room for argument. 
Harry trails a finger down your body causing chills to run through your body. You want something, anything. You’re in the palm of his hands, waiting to see what he will give you. 
“Need you, H. I need you to fuck me.” You moan as he traces his index finger over your breast. “I want you to use me however you like.”
“That’s what I love to hear.” 
Harry settles on your thighs, his hand snaking between you up to where you’re dripping wet. He runs a finger over your clit when you gasp and try to shut your legs, but he stops you continuing. 
“Need to check if you’re ready.” 
You both know you are. He wants to make you wait. 
“I’m going to fuck you, baby. I want you to scream my name.”
He doesn’t wait for an answer when he lines himself up and pushes in. You gasp as he continues pushing in. You love how full you feel. Harry grunts holding on tight to your hips as he looks down, seeing how he slips in so easily, no resistance met. 
“You were made for me,” you cry out.
“Course I was. No one else could keep up with how needy you are.” 
You whine, knowing he loves when you’re needy. You know how much Harry loves that you crave for him because it’s the same for him.
“Brat,” he breathes out. “You’re clenching tight around me because I said you’re needy.” Harry pushes out and in again. His speed increases, and your breath gets tighter. “I love that you need me.” 
Harry leans over you, your nails sinking into his shoulder as he pumps harder with no sign of slowing down. 
“Close, I’m close.” You tell him.
That seems to be all he needs to remember why he’s in control tonight. He leaves one hand on the bed to keep him balanced and moves the other up your stomach and over your breast before settling over your throat. 
Not an ounce of pressure. 
“Harry. Harry,” your voice is broken. All you can say is his name. 
His fingers skim over your throat, and you swallow hard because you want it wrapped around you. 
“Please,” you beg.  
Harry looks down at you, his green eyes full of lust and love. Love for you. Love to give you whatever you ask for. He gently kisses the corner of your mouth before placing his hand on your throat. It fits perfectly; he hasn’t added an ounce of pressure, but you nod, and it’s all the confirmation he needs. You feel your breathing slow down as he pumps harder. You know Harry loves his hand around your throat. You love the control and trust you give him. 
There’s no way you won’t come now. As he takes long, hard thrusts, you feel every part of you fighting back a release. 
“Come for me,” you barely breathe out. 
Harry shakes his head. 
Fuck. 
His hand around his throat is his favorite sight, and you know he’s just savoring it. 
Harry continues as your moans and grunts mix around the roam with the slapping of your skins. 
“I love you, baby,” Harry tells you, squeezing your throat three times. “Now come.” 
Your hand moves to rest on top of his, head thrown back and eyes shut as you feel a warm rush go through you, soon followed by Harry’s release. He lets his body fall on yours, careful not to drop all his weight. His hand moves from your neck and pushes your stray hair back. 
You blink your eyes open slowly, “there’s my girl.”
“Harry. My Harry.”
“That’s right, baby.” 
You smile and kiss his shoulder, letting him tug you close to his chest. 
“Round two in the shower?” Harry asks against your sweaty skin.
“Always.” 
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itisannak · 1 year
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Rose-Colored Glasses Vol. 2, Part 4: Upper East Side, New York City & Low Manhattan, New York City (Sugar Daddy!Harry Styles)
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Summary: (Y/N) gets a job and Harry blows the bank to celebrate her. Harry gets a small taste of mundanity, and (Y/N) plans her gift to Harry for Christmas. (Pre-Christmas Special) This is a NSFW story. If you feel uncomfortable with reading content like that, please, scroll through the chapters to find something you might like. (Smut / Oral; Female Receiving / Overstimulation / Risky Sex) (Words: 6.5k)
Author Note: Can you believe I haven’t posted since June? 😳
Vol. 1, Part 1: New York City   /  Vol. 1, Part 2: New York City & Aspen  / Vol. 1, Part 3: New York City & Amalfi Coast & Rome  /  Vol. 1, Epilogue / Vol. 2, Part 1: New York  /  Vol.2, Part 2: New York, Upper East Side / Vol.2, Part 3: Harry’s Apartment, Upper East Side, New York City / Vol.2, Part 5: Harry’s Apartment, Upper East Side, New York City, Winter Wonderland / Part 6: New York, Zurich, London / Epilogue; Hawaii / My Full Masterlist / Rose-Colored Glasses Masterlist / My Ko-Fi
Cheerful steps take me to the reception of Harry's company's headquarters. "Good afternoon, Jennifer." I greet the lady at the front desk. We have come a long way, she and I. She now knows not to stop me from heading up to my boyfriend's office. "Good afternoon, Ms. (Y/L/N). How are you today?" "I am very well. Is Harry in a meeting?" I ask her and she picks up the phone, dialing the internal for Harry's assistant's office. "Is Mr. Styles on a meeting?" She asks. "Ms. (Y/L/N) is here. Would you like to be announced?" Jennifer turns to me and I nod. "Let Harry know I am heading up right now." I reply with a smile, before walking to the elevator.
I punch in the floor and watch as the doors close smoothly. It is so clean and neat here, I love visiting Harry's office.
And soon I am greeted by Harry's assistant. "Good afternoon. This is for you. It's a Berliner." I chirp, passing her one of the pastries in the box I am carrying. "Thank you, Ms. (Y/L/N). Mr. Styles is waiting for you." She smiles at me and I nod, pushing the door with my hip.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Styles. Do you have a moment for me?" I ask, looking at Harry as he smirks and shuts his laptop. "I think I can clear up some time for you, Ms. (Y/L/N)." He leans back in his seat. I leave the box of Berliners on the edge of his desk, before moving to straddle him on his chair. I go in for a kiss, capturing his lips before he could even speak. My hands move to his jaw, grazing it with the tips of my fingers as I deepen the kiss. "Someone's hungry... Should I lock the door?" He asks me, bringing his hands to my thighs. "I got the job..." I announce, biting the inside of my cheek as I wait for his reaction. "Baby, congratulations. Can I finally know what job you applied for?" He asks me and I hum. "We both know you would have called and gotten me the job if I told you from the beginning." "I wouldn't, I promised." "Hmm, you would. And you would make sure I would never found out." I graze a finger down his lips as he smiles. "I am, officially, the history consultant for a new tech company that makes educational apps. I will be working on gameplay dialogue and content for a new art game they plan on launching." I explain and he smiles at me proudly. "This calls for celebration, sunshine. I am so proud of you. Let's go for dinner. Right now. I'll make us a reservation." He cups my face and I nod. "You? Call for a reservation? Isn't that a petty job for you?" I ask in a kidding tone. "It's a special day. Pick a place, where should we celebrate?" He asks me. "The one in Madison Park... What is it called?" I try to remember the name, hoping Harry does. "The one we dined in when the French came?" He asks and I nod. "11 Madison Park. Damn it, you have expensive taste, sunshine." "Can you afford it?" I ask, cocking an eyebrow at him. "I'll smash my piggy bank." He winks at me. "Ok, let me give them a call." He sighs, picking up his mobile from the desk. "You mean now? We can celebrate later, I don't want to get you away from your job." "Amore, they'll be fine without me. What sort of boss would I be if couldn't take half a day off?" He asks, pressing the call tile. I move from his lap, leaning on the edge of his desk to let him make the call. "Good afternoon. Harry Styles of Styles Co... I am calling for a last-minute reservation. I would like a table for 2. Yes, it's for today. It is a VIP guest, I know it is very last minute. It would mean a lot to the company and to me personally if we could find a way to dine at your place today. Of course, at 5.20. We will be there. Thank you." The whole call doesn't even last 3 minutes. I cock an eyebrow at him once he leaves his phone down. "I thought they had online reservations only, and that they have this crazy long wait list." "Oh, I called the owner personally. We will be seated at 5.20." He replies, patting his thigh again. "You know the owner? And you have his personal phone? Who are you?" I ask and he chuckles. "We take clients, investors, partners, very often there. We like that they work with Rethink, it is good image." He replies, and I look at him in confusion. "Rethink?" "Rethink Food. It's a non-profit, they gather the excess from restaurants and use it to provide meals for food-insecure populations." "You have it memorized I see." "I think it is actually noble." "Since when am I a VIP guest?" I ask and he chuckles. "Since you keep the CEO sane and happy. That's very important for the company. So important that you should be paid for that..." He mumbles. "We are not having this conversation again..." "No, no... Not like that... I think I phrased it wrong. You should be compensated for that." He restates, grazing his fingers down my thigh, before resting them under the hem of my pencil skirt.
"Harry..." I bite the tip of my tongue as he finds the band of my stockings. "What? We have some time to kill. And I would like to compensate you for making me this happy." He murmurs, burying his face in the nook of my neck. "Come on... You have a house for that. We have fucked one too many times in your office." "Oh, you will get more once we are back home. And I think we have fucked one too few times in my office." He counters and I roll my eyes at him. "I can't win this argument, can I?" "You can... But I think you don't want to. Do you, sunshine?" He asks, in a deeper, intoxicating voice. "May I always forfeit this debate." I reply, earning a pleased hum from Harry, who gently pushes me to get up before getting up himself. "Settle on the chair, I'll be right back with you." He instructs, walking towards the door. He walks out as I relax on the chair, which earns a cocked eyebrow from me. Did he really work me up just to head out?
But within a minute or two, he is back and he is locking the door behind him. He walks to me, kneeling before the chair and keeping a smirk plastered on his face. "I just made sure no one will bother us... Wouldn't want to be interrupted during my appetizer." He states, pulling me closer by my ankle. "Mr. Styles... What do you have in your dirty, twisted mind?" I ask in fake shock. "I assure you, Ms. (Y/L/N), my intentions are pure." He winks at me, trailing his hand up my calf and under my skirt, brushing over the band of my stockings. "We will talk later about you wearing those stocks in public." "Was I supposed not to wear them?" I ask and he hums. "Not a big fan of others having the same thoughts as I do when I see them..." He replies, scooting my hips up to hike my skirt up the top of my thighs. "You would have the same thoughts even if I was wearing a mascot costume, you are no fair measure." I bend my knee and bring my foot to the edge of the seat, showing Harry my underwear. He chuckles and coos, bringing his thumb to toy with my sex over the clothed sex. "You have such a cute little wet patch..." He sighs, pushing my panties aside. His thumb now traces over my slit, causing my breath to shake at the direct attention. "My God... How wet you are, princess... Oh, you are going to taste so good, I can tell already." He looks at me with hungry eyes, licking his lips before bringing them to my sex. His lips work on my outer lips at first, kissing and grazing his teeth softly over the sensitive flesh. "Jesus..." I groan, feeling the need to buck my hips up and ride his face. "And I have barely even touched your pretty little cunt." He muses about my desperate reaction; he doesn't even have to try that hard to get me needy, at this point, I am dripping even at the sound of his voice. "Please touch me..." I beg, my eyebrows knitting together in frustration. Harry licks a long, swirly lick from my outer lips to my entrance, and ends it with a quick flick once he reaches my clit. A loud moan slips from deep in my throat, despite my best efforts to keep quiet. "Sunshine... You know they can hear us... Tsch, tsch, tsch... I expected more self-control from such a good girl like you..." He almost scolds me... As if he doesn't know that all self-control goes out the window, along with my dignity, every time he touches me. "I don't care... I don't care if they hear us... Please don't stop this. I'll do anything, just don't stop using your mouth on my pussy. Please." I am desperate for him to eat me out, even if it means getting through his little torture. He has magic lips, I can cum in mere minutes from his mouth on my sex.
"Of course, my cunt wants more... Look at that... Look at my pussy... Look how it pulses around nothing, waiting for a tiny little touch... Look how desperate my pussy gets." He groans, rubbing his fingers along my slit. Oh, he gets so possessive, it is addicting. I am his, oh God, I am his. "Please..." I beg, bringing my hand to stroke through his hair. He smirks at me, pleased by my pleading before burying his face between my thighs. He is hungrier now, going straight into devouring me. There is no time to toy around, he wants to eat me out almost as much as I want him to. I am throbbing, my pussy pulsing and burning as he laps his tongue and looks me in the eye. "Oh..." I cry out, arching my back off the chair's back. His tongue is circling over my clit and he is humming as he pushes two fingers inside me, pumping them up and curling them against my spot. "My sunshine, you will have to be quiet... So loud already." He scolds me, shaking his head from side to side. "I am sorry... But you are so good at this, I can't help it." I whisper, pressing my hand against my mouth. He smirks as he moves his fingers faster, moving back to take my clit between his lips. He rolls it with his tongue, causing me to squeeze around his fingers even harder. "Shit, you are sopping..." He mumbles, taking his fingers off and licking my wetness from around them. I sigh at the sight, blushing at the way he moans in pleasure at my taste. "So delicious. I have to take a taste straight from your little honey hole." He groans, fixing my body so my sex is fully exposed, my legs spread apart to a max before he thrusts his tongue inside me. It wiggles and thrusts back and forth; it is not really all that pleasureful for me, but Harry hums in ecstasy as he does it, so my whole body vibrates from this. "Damn you, Styles... You like having me hooked, don't you?" I sigh, bringing my hand under my blouse and into the left cup of my bra to tease my nipple. I trace and pull the taut peak. "Such a desperate brat... You want to be overstimulated, don't you?" He asks before placing my legs on his shoulders and diving in again. "I wanna cum... I am so close, baby..." I whine, feeling my heart beat faster. Harry digs his nails into the skin of my thighs, sucking onto my clit harsher. "I wanna cum... Oh God, I am gonna cum." I cry out, moving my hips against his face, trying to get more and more. Harry grips my thighs, trying to make me sit still, but I am trembling and shaking, so sitting still is not an option. "God..." I cry out as I cum undone, squeezing my eyes shut. My breath is caught in the back of my throat and my whole body feels tense and rigid, yet as if I am floating. It is so peculiar, every time Harry brings me to an orgasm is a unique, never-again experienced high. I try to shut my thighs as Harry continues licking me, the stimuli becoming too intense for me to handle but Harry's hands pry me open. "I can't... I can't take more..." I cry out and he chuckles. "You are done when I say so... You were the one wanting to be overstimulated..." He sounds almost sadistic, not even letting me take a solid breath before he flicks his tongue on my clit. He only does it just to watch me jerk at the sensation, and it works. I jolt in my place as his tongue flicks my clit repeatedly. "Shit, look at this... You are grooling... Adorable." He cocks, circling his tongue around my entrance to gather my grool. He removes himself from between my thighs and gets up from the floor. Still breathing funny, and still exposed to him, I am in no place to move. "Are you ok, sunshine?" He asks me softly as he fixes my panties. "I love you..." I say hazily. Harry smiles at me and leans in to peck my forehead softly. "I love you too. Let's get you a bit decent now, shall we?" He asks, helping me move my legs down.
"Mr. Styles... Right this way..." A man around his 30s almost cheers as he sees us walk through the doors of 11 Madison Park restaurant. Harry didn't even have the chance to announce himself to the host, it was as if they were waiting on their toes for us. "Thank you." Harry says politely, placing his hand on the small of my back. "Chef Lockwood has prepared a special meal for you. Would you like to be paired or pick your own wine?" The man asks as we sit at a table by one of the windows. "Pair us, please. Please, do transfer my gratitude to Chef Humm. I appreciate that he was able to host us so last minute." Harry says to the man who smiles and nods. "I will make sure I do that, Mr. Styles." The man replies, passing us two cards with the menu before leaving us to settle. "Shall I leave you two alone?" I ask teasingly as I scan my eyes down the card. "Me and the host?" He asks and I hum. "Uh, he is cute. But I am kinda taken." "Kinda?" I ask with a cocked eyebrow. "I don't see a ring on my finger..." He mumbles and I chuckle, shaking my head at him. "I kinda see a lot of rings on your fingers..." I come back. "There is the only downside of dating someone smart... You always have a response." He sighs and I hum. "You know this is the standard menu for the day. He hasn't prepped anything special for us." I comment, leaving the card down. "Can you for once enjoy things without overthinking them?" He asks playfully. "Nope..." I pop the p and he laughs. "You are the sweetest pain in the ass I have ever met, amore..." He says sweetly, yet I can feel a chill run down my spine and it is not the good kind of it. "What is up with amore lately?" I ask him. He furrows his eyebrows and shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know. I like it." He replies. I groan lowly, hoping he doesn't listen to it. "What?" He asks me. "Nothing." "It's not nothing. Your whole face dropped. Tell me, what is it?" He asks me again. "Can you stop calling me amore? Please?" I ask. "Why? It is a cute nickname..." He protests. "It reminds me of Italy." I sigh in defeat, choosing to let him know about my irritance. "And what about Ita... Oh..." He realizes, his face softening as he reaches for my hand. "I didn't realize, I am sorry." "It's not your fault. It's me who has the issue with it, still, after all this time." I feel bad for making him feel so bad over something so sweet. "What about I call you 'mon amour'... I haven't ruined France for you yet, have I?" He asks. "You haven't ruined Italy for me either. I am just not ready to make peace with it yet." I admit. "From now on, and until you feel ready, I will ban anything Italian... Even spaghetti and meatballs..." He jokes, earning a laugh from me. "There is no need to go to such extremes. And technically, spaghetti and meatballs is not an Italian food. Italian immigrants to America started cooking it because there was bigger access to meat, and it was cheap." "Smartypants..." He chuckles and shakes his head.
"So, now that the job is found, what is next on your to-do list?" Harry asks, carefully cutting a piece of the glazed zucchini. "Finding a house. I have to start looking, so I can start saving money for it. I need the downpayment and the rent upfront for sure. And then I will have to see if I will need any furniture and appliances for the new house. I still have a long way to go before I cross it off my list. You will have to suffer me for a little longer." I chuckle and he hums, leaving his glass by his plate after he takes a sip of his wine. "I was actually thinking about this..." "About when I am going to move out?" I ask with a playful chuckle. "I was actually thinking if you are going to move out..." "Geez, Harry. If you want me out of the house, all you have to do is say so." "No, that wasn't actually my thought. I was thinking that you shouldn't move out. I was thinking that I want you to live with me. I mean, you already are. But I want it permanently. I want it official." He explains, reaching for my hand as he looks me in the eye. "Mr. Styles... Are you really asking me to move in with you?" I ask him in shock. "Was it not clear? I love waking up next to you every morning, and coming home to you after a rough day. I love having breakfast with you and watching you take that first sip of coffee with your eyes still closed. I love reading with you on the couch of our study, I love cooking with you and having you drunkenly twirl around our kitchen. I love every single moment with you in our house." "Our house..." I smile, enamored by the word. "Of course, if you are not ready yet, we can talk about alternatives..." "I am ready. I want to live with you. I mean, I live with you already." I giggle. Harry brings my hand to his lips, pecking on the back of it softly. "You will not regret it, I promise you this, my love..." He states in a serious, yet soft voice. "I am afraid you will be the one regretting it." I joke and he shakes his head. "Not in a million years..." He assures me, gesturing for a waiter to come over. "What? Are we leaving so early? We haven't even had dessert..." I protest and he chuckles. "Nope, we are just having some champagne. To celebrate your job, and you moving in..." Harry explains as the man approaches us. "Can we please have a bottle of Krug '82?" Harry asks the man, who blinks at us at the sound of Harry's request. "A Krug '82?" The man asks again and Harry hums in approval. "Right away, sir." The man moves fast, walking at a speed that does not fit the restaurant's mannerism. "What's up with the whole behavior?" I ask, leaning back in my seat. "Oh, nothing... We just ordered a nearly 4-thousand-dollar bottle of champagne." "We just did what?" I ask and he shrugs. "Relax..." "The meals, the pairings, the champagne... We are looking at an almost 5k bill." I whisper and he chuckles. "Tip excluded." "Oh, God..." I touch my temples and he takes my free hand again. "Relax, it's nothing..." "It's nothing...? Rich people are fucking weird..." I mumble and he laughs at my remark. "It's a one-time thing. Let's enjoy it." Harry laughs. It still stuns me that he is able to drop such amounts of money on a single lunch. There is still this financial gap between us, which for now, freaks me the fuck out. "Are you still here?" Harry asks me. "Hmmm?" I bring my gaze to him. "You seemed a bit off. Everything ok?" He asks me and I nod. "Yeah, yeah. I was just thinking how significantly different we are." "Is that a bad thing?" "No, it is just an... Experience being with you every day." I state, smiling at him as the waiter pours us our champagne.
-
"Pretty girl..." Harry calls, getting my attention from my laptop. "Pretty boy..." I cheer, tilting my head back as he leans down to press a kiss. "Working from home today?" He asks me, sitting on the edge of the desk in our study. "No, just research... It was a hectic day in the office and I didn't manage to finish." "Hectic day?" He asks, and I hum, saving my document. "Yeah, we were testing a prototype for the first levels." I reply. "Oh, testing already..." "Don't get too excited. I will have to help the graphics team. There were issues with the design." "What issues?" He asks me, leaning forward to show me he is listening. "Um, period issues mostly. Hence the research. Anyway, it's pretty boring and technical. How was your day?" I ask him and he sighs. "Way less exciting than yours. Meetings, emails, financial strategies. I really don't see the point of talking about it." He replies. I bring my hand to take his, resting both of them on his lap. "Wanna go grocery shopping?" I ask him and he looks at me with furrowed eyebrows. "Didn't Lita take care of it?" He asks and I shake my head at him. "I told her not to." "How so?" He asks me and I shrug. "I like grocery shopping. And I have missed doing it." "You like grocery shopping?" He asks in confusion. I stand up from the chair, standing before him as I bring my hands to clasp behind his neck. "You will see, Mr. Styles. There is joy in mundane things." I state, my fingers twirling in the hair at the base of his head. "Alright then. Let's do mundane things that I, an immortal have never done before." He says with prose, mocking me. "Go change." I laugh and shake my head. "Change? What is wrong with my clothes?" He asks and I purse my lips. "No one goes grocery shopping in a Gucci fitted suit." "And what should I be wearing, Ms. stylist?" He asks and I roll my eyes at him. "Jeans. They work miracles for that ass." I comment and he smirks. "You like my ass, huh?" He asks with a cocked eyebrow. "Oh, my, God. Go get dressed." I command and he laughs. "Yes, ma'am." He steals a quick kiss before running out of the room.
"You sure have a good appetite for cheese." Harry comments as I add the little block of cheddar to the cart. "You don't seem to complain when I make those little charcuterie boards for our wine nights." "We don't buy those premade?" He asks. "You can't really be that aloof, can you?" I ask him with a laugh. "What? They look almost professional." He defends himself and I hum doubtingly. "Nice save." I mumble, pulling out my phone to take a look at the list. "I am honest here... They looked very aesthetically pleasing." He compliments and I hum. "Thank you very much, then. Next is produce... Roll away, sir." I point to the aisle. "Wait, no ice cream?" He asks me. "Not on my list. You want ice cream?" I ask him and he nods. "Ok, then. Let's pick..." I lean over the freezer, taking a look at the options. "Chocolate chip mint." He rushes to say. I turn to look at him, watching his cheeks become red with excitement. "You like chip mint?" I ask and he nods. "I do. It is my favorite... Well, Christmas pudding is my favorite, but I can't find it here. So, I settle for some mint..." He explains. I grab a pint and add it to the cart, pushing it towards the cheeses to sort of maintain the temperature. "Well, it tastes a bit like toothpaste to me, but ok. I'll get my fudge." I pick out a pint for myself, placing it by Harry's on the cart. "You know when I was little I used to tell my mom that when I get my own apartment, I will have a freezer drawer full of ice cream. I would have ice cream every night." "Do you have that drawer? I haven't noticed..." I ask and he shakes his head. "It was just a stupid childhood thing. I am an adult now." He replies. I pout my bottom lip, tangling my arm with his and leaning my head on his shoulder as we make our way to the produce aisle. "You were kind of right you know... It is nice going grocery shopping. Even nicer with you along." He comments, pecking the top of my head.
"I fed Harry..." Harry states as he wraps his arms around me. "You two get along great." I comment and he hums. "He is a neat dude." "The goldfish?" I ask and he nods. "Ok..." I mumble, melting the bouillon cube in the oil in the pan. "Can I help with anything?" He asks me. "Chop the veggies over there." I point to the chopping board, earning a hum from Harry. "No wine while cooking tonight?" He asks me, picking out a knife from the stand. "I thought I would be cooking alone..." I reply and he scoffs. "I always help you, don't I?" He points out, leaving the knife down. "You do. But I thought maybe you needed some time alone to recharge." I explain, watching him as he moves to the wine rack. "What are we cooking?" He asks me. "Vegan Ragu with tagliatelle." "Red then." He states, picking out a bottle. "You are really good at pairings..." I comment, watching him pop the cork. "Why, thank you very much." He replies, taking a whiff of the cork. "I think you are going to like this one." He comments, leaving the bottle on the island and grabbing 2 glasses. "I have liked all the wines you have suggested this far." I compliment him. There is something so intimate about Harry taking care of me, and treating me so nicely. I'd hate to jinx it, but it feels a little too good to be true. "Take a picture, it will last longer." Harry muses, snapping me out of my thoughts as he leaves my glass by my hand. "I just zoned out." I protest and he hums sarcastically. "You zoned out staring at my butt. Those jeans work miracles on it, you said it yourself." "Oh my God, I have never seen such vanity in a single person." I tease him. He hooks his fingers in the belt loops of my jeans, pulling me closer to his body, my back touching his chest before he rests his chin on my shoulder and leaves a peck on my neck. "Just admit you are obsessed with me." He whispers. "It's true..." I sigh in defeat. It is futile not admitting it, he knows it already. "Ata girl." He bites softly onto my neck, before moving back to chopping the vegetable. For a moment my eyes can only focus on how his hand grips the knife and chops the vegetables thickly, making a loud sound as the knife hits the board. Fuck me, I am truly obsessed with him.
-
"I am surprised work and Harry even let you see me today..." Chrissy complains as we make our way down Hudson street. It is a heavy December morning, so I can see her breath as she speaks. "Oh my God, look who's talking... If walls could talk, they would have quite the stories about you and your husband." I tease her. "Jealous much of married life?" She asks with a cocked eyebrow. "Nope... I am fine as I am." "Look at you... Ms. I will never date again." She chuckles, punching my shoulder softly. "I am not dating. I am living with my partner." I fix my scarf as Chrissy coos. "Why are we here? Your house is all the way on the other side..." She asks. It is true, we are nearly approaching Lower Manhattan, 1 hour away by foot from the penthouse on Upper East Side. "We are here to buy ice cream..." I reply. "Ice cream?" She asks as if I said something outrageous. I think she would react way less surprised if I told her we are here to buy cocaine. "Yes, ice cream. There is a little place down here." I point to the next block, right where the little British store is. "Why would we have to buy ice cream from here? And why are we buying ice cream at the beginning of the winter?" She asks me, looking at me as if I am insane. "It is the nearest place I could find Christmas Pudding ice cream. It's for Harry." I explain. "We are an hour away from your place. It will practically be soup by the time we arrive." "Vinny is picking us up and he has a cooler with him. We are going home, I am giving this to Lita, and then we head to the market to buy ice cream." I explain. "More ice cream?" She asks me; she looks nearly outraged and I can't say I blame her. "I am going to give Harry a drawer full of ice cream. As an early Christmas present. He told me he likes chocolate chip mint, but his favorite is Christmas pudding. So, I am buying 5 pints of that, and then various flavors. And some for me, because choc mint still tastes like toothpaste, no matter how hard he tries to make me like it." "Oh, wow... Ice cream..." She says sarcastically. "He told me that when he was little he used to tell his mother that once he was older, he would have a drawer in his freezer, full of ice cream. I asked him why he doesn't have it, and he told me it is a stupid childhood thing, and that he is an adult now. I swear, it was the saddest thing he has told me... And now I have to make it happen. So, shush, buy ice cream with me, and let's catch up." I open the door to the market, walking in first.
"It is actually lovely of you to do this whole thing for Harry. You are smitten." Chrissy nudges my shoulder as we organize the ice cream. "I am... Look at me doing stupid shit, for a man... I spent a quarter of my paycheck on ice cream. I am dumb, aren't I?" I ask her. "I mean... I get it. I nearly broke an arm to get Adrian that stupid first-edition comic book signed by RDJ. And I spent more money than I am willing to admit to doing that whole thing." "Well, he is your husband." I point out. "That was for our 2-month anniversary." "Jesus..." I laugh, and she joins me, giggling loudly. "I know, I know. The worst thing is I would still do it, tomorrow if needed." She comments. "Yeah, good thing he married you. You are wifey material." "Oh, dear God, stop... You are just like me, you know." "Not married. There is still hope for me." "As if you would say no if he showed up tomorrow morning with a shiny diamond ring from Cartier." She cocks an eyebrow at me, expecting the answer. "I don't like diamonds. And I also think this would be too soon." "Didn't answer my question..." She mumbles, stacking one more pint of Christmas pudding ice cream on top of another. "It's not happening, so let's not discuss it. Hot cocoa?" I ask her, putting the last chocolate chip mint pint in the drawer. "Sure. Extra sprinkles and whipped cream." "Oh, wow, you are a brat..." I comment and she snickers. "Ask Adrian..." She mumbles and I roll my eyes. "TMI, sis, but k..."
-
"Can I take this off now?" Harry asks. In lieu of a blindfold, I have put a sleeping mask over his eyes, so now I am guiding him to the fridge to show him the surprise. I was practically waiting for him by the door, and I couldn't wait a moment longer to reveal the ice cream to him. "Not yet..." I mumble, opening the door to the freezer. "This better be good, sunshine... I had a very long day at the office." Harry sighs. He can't say no to me, no matter how tired he is... "Just a few seconds more." I announce, opening the drawer. I take one last look at it, smiling to myself over how cute this surprise is. "Ok, ready?" I ask him and he hums approvingly. I stand on my toes, reaching for the sleeping mask. "Keep your eyes closed until I tell you to open them..." I instruct and he huffs. "Dear God..." He mutters. I press my lips together and smirk as I take off the mask. "You can open your eyes now... Ta-da!" I exclaim excitedly, standing aside from him to let him take a look. Harry is confused in the beginning, eyebrows pushed together as he tries to figure out why I brought him to the fridge. "What am I looking... at?" He asks, but before he could finish his phrase, his eyes light up and he reaches for the tub of Christmas Pudding ice cream. "It's your very own ice cream drawer..." I explain, waiting for his reaction. Harry leaves the ice cream down, opens his arms to wrap them around me, and pulls me into a bear hug. "What did I do to deserve you?" He asks me, pecking the top of my head multiple times. "Where did you even find Christmas Pudding ice cream in New York?" He asks me and I chuckle. "In a store in Lower Manhattan... It has English delicacies. I hope it is good." I giggle as he cups my face in his hands. "You are so perfect... Thank you, thank you, my love." He peppers my face with kisses, making me laugh at the tickling. "Come on, now. It is time to have dinner." I place my hand on his sternum, stopping him from covering me in kisses. "What's for dinner?" He asks me, resting his hands on my waist. "Ice cream..." "8-year-old Harry would adore you." He comments. "What about 31-year-old Harry?" I ask, making him hum before he replies. "31-year-old Harry worships the air you breathe." He replies, grabbing a tub of his ice cream.
Harry hovers the spoon before my mouth, teasing me as I try to eat a spoonful of the Christmas pudding ice cream. After a fit of laughter and me frustratingly grabbing his wrist to finally take the bite, I moan at the taste of the dessert. "I didn't expect I'd like Christmas pudding ice cream so much..." I mumble, making Harry look at me softly. "It's good, huh?" "You might like toothpaste ice cream, but this is good." I point at the tub, before digging my spoon into my pint. "I don't know how to thank you for this. It might be the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me." Harry states. I smile and shrug, biting my bottom lip before I speak. "You deserve it, all of it. No matter how much Chrissy huffed and puffed while we were buying the ice cream..." "You saw Chrissy?" He asks me and I hum. "I did. She helped with this." I reply and Harry chuckles. "How are Adrian and she? We haven't seen them in a while." He asks me and I shrug. "They are sickeningly in love with each other. And Chrissy can't wait for their first Christmas, she is even collecting recipes to cook with Adrian and host their families for dinner... It is so out of character for her, but so adorable..." I state, trying to steal a spoonful from his ice cream. "If you like this Christmas pudding ice cream, wait until you try the real deal in Cheshire." "Is it better than this?" I ask and he hums. "I am not going to spoil it for you... You will try it on December 26..." He says mischievously. "Are you having it shipped for Christmas? Is it even going to last during the trip here?" I ask and he chuckles. "I am shipping us there. Christmas in the UK..." He explains. He sounds excited about it, surely has been planning it for a while. "Why that face?" Harry asks. I didn't realize my face was contorted all this time. "Don't you think you should have talked with me about this before planning the whole thing?" I ask him, feeling my heart sink to my stomach. "I thought it would be a nice surprise..." He shrugs. "I don't want to spend Christmas in London, nor any place else. I want to spend Christmas in New York. I want to spend Christmas here, at home... Last year I couldn't... This year, I want to spend it in New York. I want to go to Santa's workshop the weekend before Christmas, to Time Square for the ball drop, and visit Chrissy's and Adrian's place on the second day of the year to play cards and drink wine. I want to do the things I couldn't do last year. I am not going to London. End of discussion." I can barely hold back the tears, my body shaking as I try to come up with enough excuses so Harry will drop this. "I have already made arrangements... Do you know how hard it was to arrange for my Christmas leave? You can't dismiss that without proper conversation." He points out. "Maybe you shouldn't have made plans without proper conversation to start with. I am not going to London. You can go alone if you want to so badly. Goodnight." I have the final word, leaving the ice cream on the island before hopping off the stool. "(Y/N)..." Harry calls, but I manage to ignore him and slip into the guest room.
Vol. 1, Part 1: New York City   /  Vol. 1, Part 2: New York City & Aspen  / Vol. 1, Part 3: New York City & Amalfi Coast & Rome  /  Vol. 1, Epilogue / Vol. 2, Part 1: New York  /  Vol.2, Part 2: New York, Upper East Side / Vol.2, Part 3: Harry’s Apartment, Upper East Side, New York City  /  Vol.2, Part 5: Harry’s Apartment, Upper East Side, New York City, Winter Wonderland / Vol. 2, Part 6: New York, Zurich, London / Epilogue; Hawaii / My Full Masterlist / Rose-Colored Glasses Masterlist / My Ko-Fi 
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Young American - Part 15**
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This part is super, super happy and fluffy and funny and just basically a big ball of joy. I hope you guys like it!
Fic Masterlist
Warnings: unprotected sex
WC: 6.1k
Things had been looking up for Y/N. After her mom’s visit she felt a little lighter all around and it was good to know that at least one of her parents was willing to work through their points of disagreement to pursue a relationship with her. From what her mother was telling her, her dad wasn’t all that happy that she had caved and came to visit Y/N. So they were in a bit of a tiff over that, but Marcia didn’t regret her decision in the slightest and she made that very evident to Y/N.
And well, things with Harry had been taking off rather nicely. He was planning on going back to England for a week or so for his cousin’s wedding in the summer and he had asked Y/N to come along and she was thinking about it. Of course she wanted to meet his family, but she wasn’t making nearly as much money as he was and traveling to Europe was expensive. She didn’t even have a passport yet! She had just applied actually and was waiting to get it issued. 
LA was all gloomy again and as much as she loved being in the shop, this was stay at home weather and it seemed like the clientele felt the same way because it was after lunch and the shop was dead, the phone hadn’t even rung today. Vy and G had taken to working on some new designs as they hadn’t really updated their portfolio in some time. Auree was in her office and Rosa was up front watching some TV on the couches, waiting for anything to happen. Y/N took to doing some inventory and naturally, this meant Harry was also stuffed into the little storage room nearly back to back with Y/N counting boxes of ink cups.
“Have you given any more thought to the trip to England?” Harry asked and she sighed.
“Baby yeah, of course I want to go. I’m just…broke.” She sighed as she put her clipboard down on the shelf before her and turned to see him already turned towards her.
“Well, how about I get our tickets and you don’t have to worry about anything.” He offered and she sighed.
“I don’t want to owe you.”
“You won’t be owing me. I want you to come, I’m inviting you! Besides, we’re gonna stay at my mum’s house, so lodging is free. It’s just the flights, you can save up for spending money and whatever else you want to do, but I’ve got the flights.”
“The $700 flights?” She asked with a small smile and he rolled his eyes.
“Money is meant to be spent, especially on things that matter. You coming to England and meeting my family matters to me.” He said and she sighed.
“I will think about it.” She said and he smiled.
“I don’t know why you think that’s gonna deter me from just buying the tickets.” He said reaching for her waist and she rolled her eyes. He was leaning in, just about to kiss her when her phone started ringing and startled them a bit. She fished it out from her back pocket and saw it was Julie and she felt nervous. “What’s wrong?” Harry asked as soon as Y/N’s smile faded.
“She had a check-up with her oncologist this morning.” She explained nervously and Harry frowned.
“Oh, is something wrong?” He asked with concern.
“They do check-in’s every couple of months since she had responded well to treatment and has been cancer free for a little while now.” She explained and he nodded. The phone stopped ringing and she looked up to Harry with glossy eyes and so much anxiety. Harry went over to the door and shut it before just pulling her into his arms, “I’m so scared.” She confessed with a shaky voice.
“Whatever it is, I’m here for you. I know that doesn’t really mean anything but-”
“Hey, no.” she frowned as she looked up at him, “That means everything to me.” She assured with a softness in her eyes that spoke volumes. Harry smiled at her as he grabbed her free hand and brought it up to kiss the back of it. “I love you.” She said quietly.
“Love you.” He reciprocated and then looked into her eyes, “Do you want me to go while you call back? Give you a little space?”
“No, stay. Please.” She said and he nodded as she opened up her phone and called back. She was squeezing Harry’s hand so tight as the line rang and it stopped. Sh held her breath and immediately frowned when she heard Julie sobbing Harry pulled Y/N into his chest as she too started to cry.
“Julie, what did they say?” Y/N asked, trying to sound composed.
“I’m officially in remission!” She sobbed, “I can’t believe this.” She cried and Y/N was relived to know that they were tears of joy. And she and Harry just cheered loudly and were jumping up and down at this incredible news.
“Fuck yes!” Harry shouted with the biggest smile as Y/N cried as well. Julie had gone through it quite bad during the worst point of her breast cancer so it was reliving to know that technically, medically, she had been cancer free long enough to be in remission or cured basically. 
“We are celebrating tonight!” Julie sniffled and Y/N nodded as she looked to Harry.
“Yeah, let’s do it! We can pick something up to eat at the house?” She suggested and they ended up making a little plan and Julie said she would contact her friends to come over as  well. “Thank you for calling, I’m so happy for you Julie. So fucking happy.” Y/N assured with a sniffle, “Love you.”
“Love you too, hon. I’ll see you at home later.”
“See you later.” She hummed happily before they hung up. Harry was smiling so wide that his cheeks hurt and when Y/N hugged him tight he squeezed back, his own eyes starting to tear up with joy. Julie was an exceptional person and she deserved to have a good and healthy life, she deserved to be free of this burden she’d been carrying for so long. Yeah, she wasn’t necessarily his family, but he almost felt like she was part of it. “Baby, I have an idea.” He said and she looked up at him and nodded, urging him to say it, “How about as a surprise you perfect her tattoo? I’m sure if we talk to Auree she’ll let you do it on her.” Harry suggested and Y/N smiled.
“Yeah, that’s actually a brilliant idea and I might need your help a bit.” She smiled and he nodded.
“Yeah, fuck this. Let’s go work on that.” He grinned.
The rest of the day flew by despite how slow everything else was going, but they were just both so happy about Julie’s news. Julie had wanted one of those “flower of life” tattoos, but Y/N wanted to add some more special elements to it that would make it more ethereal and Harry was giving great input. Finally, it was time for them to go and when they got to Julie’s there were already a few cars parked out front and as they walked up they could hear music coming from inside and Y/N grinned at Harry and he was smiling already as they walked up the front steps. She unlocked the door and as soon as they made it inside it smelled amazing and Julie and a good group of her friends were already at the table chatting and eating.
“Hello everyone!” Harry greeted them first as he toed off his shoes and Y/N smiled as she did the same and called out a greeting. Everyone was smiling enthusiastically and greeting them with waves or words as they approached.
“Congrats. I’m so happy for you.” Y/N hummed as Julie stood and Y/N hugged her tight. It was expected that they both cried together, obviously tears of joy, but also of relief. Harry didn’t know exactly what Y/N had been there for, but he knew that she had helped Julie a lot, especially when things got really bad. So if anyone understood her victory over this, it was Y/N. The person who had seen it and helped her and held her hand through it all.
“Thank you.” Julie sniffled, “I love you. Thank you for everything you did, you didn’t have to stay and you sti-”
“I wanted to.” Y/N assured as she drew back a bit, “You’re like a mother to me.” Y/N sniffled, “I would never leave you. I love you so much too.” She assured and Julie smiled and nodded through her tears as they hugged tight once more. The air in the room had shifted as the other guests just observed this little interaction with them for a few moments. When they let go Harry was a few steps behind Y/N, gently rubbing at her back as Julie finished saying something to her, but their hands were clasped together. Then it was his turn to greet Julie with a big, warm hug and a kiss on her cheek. She was so thrilled he had joined and she was so keen on Harry being around because she felt like Y/N deserved someone like him, who basically worshipped the ground she walked on. It made her happy to see Y/N happy after everything she had to endure with her. She always knew that Y/N didn’t mind helping, but she was just a kid when she came over to live with her and she dealt with a lot.
“Alright, enough tears! Go get some food.” Julie insisted and Y/N grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him along into the kitchen. As soon as they got in Y/N leaned on the counter and let out a slow breath.
“You alright, baby?” Harry asked and she glanced up to his eyes and nodded.
“I just need a moment to process.” She said and he hummed as he grabbed her hands in his.
“Tell me what’s on your mind.” He said coming a bit closer and she sighed.
“It’s nothing bad.” She assured, “Quite the opposite actually, it just feels like everything is as it should be and getting better and it’s a bit overwhelming, like a lot of big feelings and I just need to sit with them for a sec.” She explained and he smiled at her, “What?”
“Nothing, I just love you a lot.” He shrugged and she grinned and then huffed.
“One more feeling to sit with, thanks.” She said with a playful little pout and he chuckled and tutted as he pulled her body into his own and held her for a bit until she was feeling better. 
As soon as they served themselves some food they joined everyone else and had a great time chatting and getting to know each other better. A few of Julie’s friends had met Harry in passing, but now they were seeing why he was such a wonderful addition. He tended to be on the more quiet side, but he just felt so safe and comfortable in Julie and Y/N’s home that he knew they would never bring people in that would cause him harm in any way. When he had that realization in the middle of a story someone was telling he had an urge to cry. It felt like he finally found a place that felt like home and it did make him emotional. There was just this feeling of happiness in his chest that kept growing and growing the more time everyone was together, it almost hurt. But finally, around 11pm people started to leave and Y/N and Harry were just finishing up with washing dishes while softly singing along to the music still playing in the living room. 
“Finally.” Harry said as he handed Y/N the last dish. He was sweet, she had an aversion to wet/soggy food and so he took it upon himself to do the washing while she dried.
“I know. Thank you for taking over, I was about to throw up.” She giggled.
“Yeah, I couldn’t tell from your gagging.” He said and she giggled.
“Sorry, I was really trying not to.” She assured and he smirked.
“Y’don’t need t’apologize to me. It reminded me of something entirely different actually-”
“Oh, shut up…” she scoffed through a laugh and he sniggered as she put down the last dish and he dragged her body into his.
“You pervert, it wasn’t that.”
“Sure…” Y/N said with a smirk.
“It wasn’t! It was domestic bliss.” He said with a giggle, “Like say I came home to find you struggling to do the dishes because there's lots to scrape off of a pot and so I just jump in and take over.” He shrugged and she smiled.
“That’s very sweet.” She said and he nodded.
“Yeah, I know.” He assured. “Now, should we get ready for bed?” He asked and she nodded. They said their goodnights to Julie and the last of her friends who were in the living room before they headed back.
“Want a shower?” Y/N asked Harry and he nodded. “You can go first then, I need to shave.” She said. Harry had a drawer in her room now so he was grabbing some sleeping clothes as she headed off to grab him a towel. Harry had already gone inside the shower when she came back with his towel, so she knocked and he told her to come in. “Towel’s on the rack. Baby, m’gonna get my make up off, OK?” She informed as she clicked the lock and then she saw him peek his head out of the curtain and she giggled at his sudsy hair, “What?”
“Are you gonna join me?”
“No, I need to shave my legs.”
“And?”
“And I need space.” She explained.
“I’ll do it for you.” He smiled.
“Only if you let me shave you next time.” She said and he nodded.
“Yeah, of course you can.” He assured and she grinned and proceeded with tucking her hair behind her ears before grabbing her makeup balm to get started. Harry rinsed out his hair and put in some of her conditioner before he started cleaning his body - he even had his own washcloth here, it was Cars themed and Y/N had given it to him as a little gag gift randomly and he just kept it here as he had no need for it at home. Harry was just wringing out the little washcloth when the curtain opened and he shivered. “A warning woulda been nice.” He hissed and she giggled as pressed a gentle kiss to the back of his shoulder.
“Sorry. Switch with me.” She said and he moved back to let her get under the stream of water and she let herself get drenched before reaching for her shampoo bottle.
“Let me do it.” He said and she nodded. He quickly rinsed his own hair and then grabbed her shampoo to wash her hair. She hummed at the way his fingers felt against her scalp; something about someone else doing this was extremely soothing. It was her favorite part of going to the hairdresser, “Rinse and then one more.” He said switching them positions and he held her hips as she rinsed out her hair and they repeated the step once more. Each time she rinsed he just took the time to admire her body. He loved every single inch of her. He then helped lather her hair in conditioner and she moved on to washing her body.
“-but close your eyes or turn around.” She said and he chuckled.
“Why?” He asked as she lathered up her washcloth with body wash.
“Because! I don’t want you to see me getting all up in my nooks and crannies!” She said as if it were obvious.
“Baby, in case you haven’t thought of this before, I’ve been all up in all your nooks and crannies.” He said with a grin and his arms wrapped around her waist now. “I just want to see you go over your boobs.” He confessed and she rolled her eyes.
“That’s rather quick.” She said and he shrugged, “Such a boy.” She teased and then he bit his lip and she felt his cock twitch a bit between their bodies, “SUCH. A. BOY!” Y/N laughed, flicking his chest with each word.
“I thought about it for a second too long.” He excused and after so much fuss Harry was wrapped around her waist from behind as she scrubbed her body clean. 
She had no idea what had gotten into him or why he was being so lovey and clingy, but it was new and as much as she was acting a little bit stand-offish she loved this so much until…
“Harry.” Y/N’s body shook with laughter.
“What?” 
“You don’t need to hold my ass open for easy cleaning access.” She said with a red face, for sure.
“Don’t worry, m’not even looking like you told me.” He said and she could handle this anymore, he was such a dork. She turned around and he was pouting. “Baby!”
“Stop it.” She laughed and reached behind herself to wash her behind, “Or we’re never doing this together again.” She warned and he rolled his eyes.
“Fine.” He huffed.
“You’re already gonna shave my legs.” She said as she rinsed her body off, “Now, if you want to be helpful open up the scrub on the little ledge up there.” She said. For space-sake she put her body scrub and razor up on the ledge of the little window. It was a bit of a risk for her to tip-toe in the wet shower and grab it, and she knew Harry would freak out if he saw that, so she just asked him to do it for her, “I need to exfoliate first.” She explained as Harry got on his knees without her even asking him to and he started to go over her leg that was hiked up on the edge of the tub now. He was gentle as he melted the scrub into her skin. It smelled like peaches and it made his mouth water. She then switched legs and he did that one as well.
“What about right here?” He asked as he placed a kiss to her mound.
“I don’t shave there.” She explained and he frowned. “I wax and if I shave it’ll ruin everything.” She explained.
“Can’t hurt to exfoliate though. Said it prevents ingrowns, right?” He asked and she laughed softly.
“Only if you’re very careful. Can’t risk t’get that inside.” She said and he nodded.
Harry grabbed only two fingers worth of the scrub before going over the top of her mound. She wasn’t waxed hairless, she did have a tasteful little patch of hair which Harry really liked, so she kept that same thing going. She saw it coming from a mile off as he leaned in and licked at her clit a couple times which made her gasp, and then he delved in further and really started going for it. Harry couldn’t help it, her pussy was so pretty and that fucking peach scented scrub was divine. He had an intrusive thought to lick her clean, the jar said “sugar scrub”, so he just went for it and immediately  pulled away to spit it out and Y/N glanced down and started cackling as he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and continued spitting at the shower floor with a scowl on his face as he looked up to her.
“Why would you eat it?!” She laughed, gasping for air, moving aside to let Harry crawl under the scream of water to swish it around his mouth.
“It smells like peach rings and says sugar scrub!” He defended and she continued laughing.
“Baby, it’s still soap!” She shook her head.
“Well now I know.” He huffed as he pushed himself up to stand and she continued giggling as he grabbed her razor from the ledge of the window as well. “This too?” He asked of a little bottle of soap and she nodded.
“Yeah. And fair warning, it smells the same as the scrub, so please don’t eat it.” She joked and Harry rolled his eyes as he sat on the edge of the tub now. Y/N started giggling again and he glanced up to her. “What now?” He asked with a smile.
“I’m laughing at your penis. I’m sorry.” She giggled.
“What? Why?” He pouted.
“It’s just bobbing around and it’s funny.” She reasoned and he shook his head as he pumped some of her deliciously scented soap into his hand.
“F’you keep laughing at it, s’gonna have a hard time getting hard for you.” He warned and she smirked.
“Challenge accepted.”
“Yeah, alright.” He scoffed, “Foot on my thigh.” He ordered and she did just that and let him lather her legs with the soap and then he carefully started to shave her. He went over twice. The first time with the grain and the next time against and he placed a kiss on her knee before she switched legs. After he finished he helped her rinse out the conditioner from her hair and then they were drying off as best as they could in the shower to avoid making a mess and then they stepped out.
“I didn’t bring my clothes.” Y/N’s teeth chattered as she spoke.
“S’alright. You won’t need it.” He assured with a smirk and she chuckled as he leaned in to kiss her deep. While in there they brushed their teeth and before they stepped out of the bathroom he let her throw on his shirt so that she wouldn’t have to rush out in a towel.
“Way to finish all the hot water you sex fiends!” They heard Julie shout faintly as they walked across the hall.
“We didn’t fuck in the shower!” Harry shouted back and Y/N groaned in mortification.
“Oh my god…”
“S’fine, she’s fine.” He assured as he locked Y/N’s door. 
Y/N proceeded to get some panties on under Harry’s shirt while he turned down the bed. Soon enough they were snuggled up in the dark, slightly trembling as they adjusted to the temperature beneath the sheets. Y/N smiled as he pulled her bottom flush with his front, he was still hard and it made her moan as he ground himself against her ass and his breathing grew ragged as his pleasure started to increase. The fingers from his right hand were digging hard into her hip, while the ones on his left hand squeezed her fingers that were intertwined with his own. His low groans of satisfaction made her grow wet quickly and she was soon throbbing with need.
“Fuck baby, can I put it in?” He asked desperately and she nodded.
“Yeah, please.” She panted.
Harry was quick to free up his hands and drag his shirt up  her body to expose her breasts and then he felt around her panties before pulling the crotch bit to the side as Y/N raised one of her legs for him. Harry tugged his sweats down just enough to free up his cock before he started to thrust against her wet and warm labia, soaking himself in her arousal. After slicking himself up with a few thrusts his tip was pushing at her entrance. Harry moaned as he very gently pushed against the tight ring of muscles and as soon as the tip of his cock breached the entrance they both let out satisfied moans of relief. He eased the rest of his cock in over the span of a few thrusts and once he was in all the way he started to give slow and deep thrusts in and out of her. He held one of her legs up as he got in deep. She was whimpering as he got in from this angle. He whispered praises into her ear as he fucked her, making her feel on top of the world in every sense of the word. Her mind was empty as he pumped in and out of her, all she could feel was pleasure as he instructed her to rub her clit.
“Oh! I’m gonna cum!” She gasped quietly and he groaned and started going faster and harder. He guided her lifted leg down to wrap over his right leg, so that she could still stay a bit open and he just hugged her body before letting his hand roam up to her breast.
“So beautiful, babe.” He panted, “So perfect f’me. I can’t get over how much I love you.” His words were pushing her even closer to the edge, “Fuck, I’m gonna love you forever.” He mumbled against her ear and her skin immediately broke out in goosebumps and her heart nearly exploded in her chest.
“Me too, baby. Gonna love you forever.” She whimpered as the pleasure started to peak.
“Fuck, can feel you throbbing. Come for me, all over my cock, baby.” His words persuaded her into her orgasm and he moaned as her pussy grew slicker and warmer and tighter as she came undone with soft gasps and quiet, frustrated grunts as she tried to hold in her sounds. Harry’s cock sliding in and out of her was dragging her pleasure on, her body was buzzing. She could could feel her legs tensing up as she slowly got overstimulated and started to rub at her clit again, “Fuck yes, baby. I want you to come with me.” He panted and she nodded.
“OK, OK, OK.” She whispered her little chant as she searched for the pleasure in the overstimulation. Her eyes were squeezed shut. Their bodies were starting to get hot now and everything was feeling much more sensitive. Her walls started to tighten up and Harry moaned lowly.
“I’m right there. Fuck. Just hold it a little longer.” He pleaded and she was doing the most to wait for him and she was relieved when his thrusting started to slow down but his force was harder as he plunged deep into her, “Oh fuck, m’coming!” He gasped and she started to wither along with him. He squeezed her body even tighter as he shot his load into her with each gut-wrenchingly deep thrust he delivered, she could feel his warmth start to fill her up to the extent that he was leaking out. He was breathing so hard, fighting his hardest to keep quiet, he swore his head might explode from how good this all felt. He slowly came to a stop and kissed Y/N’s shoulder as they both waited the nice tingly feeling out silently, just their ragged breaths were the sounds exchanged between them now. He smiled when she brought one of his hands to her mouth and kissed the top of it as she placed it over her chest. He could feel her heart pounding and also as it slowly started to decrease in pace as it returned back to it’s normal beating pattern. “M’gonna get something to clean you up.” He whispered and she nodded. Soon he was back and had cleaned her up with a bit of toilet paper before he settled back into the bed and she turned to face him and she kissed him deeply.
“I love you so much.” he whispered.
“I love you too.” she smiled, “What’s gotten into you today?” She asked quietly and he shrugged.
“I don’t know, I just love how I feel around everyone here. I feel safe and like I’m at home with you. I don’t know, today was just a really good day. I’m just really, really happy today and I was just thinking about how I hadn’t really been happy in a long time and then you came into my life and I just…couldn’t help but be happy again.” He explained and she kissed his lips with a smile and combed his curls back a bit as he smiled bashfully. If it weren’t so dark she was sure she’d be able to see his cheeks stained all pink.
“You make me really happy too.” She whispered with a lump in her throat. She felt so much love for him that she had no idea how she was even alive to tell the tale. Harry felt a lump in his throat as well as he considered asking her something that he was thinking when they were washing dishes. He hadn’t lied, he was thinking about domesticity, but he had been picturing something much more complex than just doing chores together.
“Baby?” he started his question.
“Yes, my love?” She whispered back tiredly and he leaned in to kiss her lips quickly and she smiled against his own lips.
“H-have you-or actually, d-do you like…believe in…in marriage?” He asked and she felt her throat go dry and she wanted to answer but she was freaking out so she nodded, but it was dark and he couldn’t see. So he was starting to get nervous at her lack of response.
“Y-yes. Yes I do.” She finally got the words out and he felt like he could breathe again, “Do you?” She asked back into the darkness.
“Yeah, I do.” He hummed, “That’s what I was thinking about earlier…in the kitchen.” He admitted quietly, “Being married.” He sighed in relief as he got it out.
“T-to me?” She asked nervously and Harry let out a nervous chuckle.
“Yeah, baby. Who else would I be thinking about?” He asked and she grinned.
“Oh…I mean, could just be like a blank face. I don’t know.” She reasoned and he hummed, “Do you know what I mean?” She asked.
“Yeah, I do.” He agreed. He knew exactly what she meant, he had thought of marriage seriously a  few times through out his life. The first time was when he was 14 and his grandad had talked to him about his wedding to his nan when Harry found a few old pictures of them. The second time was when he was 20 and went to a wedding and he imagined himself up on the altar in the future. The other time was when he turned 26, in his mind he would always be married by 25 - so that time was more of a solemn contemplation of it, but what all of these times had in common was what Y/N said. He would picture himself at the altar and then just a blank face before him. He had no idea who would be on the other side, but this time he had a face in mind and as scary as it was, it seemed like the picture was finally perfect, “And ummm, this is the first time that I didn’t see a blank face.” He shared, still feeling so nervous and vulnerable sharing this with her. The person that was literally the star of his hopes and dreams. 
“Oh.” She whispered and he nodded, “Are you freaked out?” She asked and he shook his head.
“Not at all. That’s more because I was scared to tell you.” He confessed, “Are you freaked out?” He asked and she exhaled.
“A little bit, but not in a bad way. More in a way of…excitement?” She said and he chuckled, “Yeah. I mean… I’m one for daydreaming and after I fell in love with you my mind just wanted to put a face to the fantasy and I just wasn’t letting myself go there with you because I…I’m scared I guess, to put your face there and then we…” she trailed off and he hummed in understanding. She didn’t need to say it, he was scared too, but he found that facing his fears was not as terrifying when he had her by his side, “So it was just exciting a bit because I feel safe to do that now.” She confessed and he was smiling now.
“Does it feel good to see my face when you think of that?” He asked and she leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips and they both smiled against each others’ mouths.
“Yeah, you’re a perfect fit.” She whispered to him.
“So are you.” He assured her with a smile, “That’s why I want you to meet my family.” He brought up again and well, in light of this conversation she felt that yeah, she should go meet his family.
“OK, lets do it.” She said and he kissed her.
“Yeah?”
“Yes.” She hummed and he searched for her hand and intertwined their fingers.
“You’re gonna love everyone so much!” He said excitedly, “They already like what they’ve heard about you, but having you there in the flesh? God, they’re gonna love you. I bet you right now that my mum and nan will cry when we go.” He said and she laughed quietly, “So… would you want a little wedding or a big wedding?” He asked and she smiled.
“Little. In the last few years I’ve even just considered eloping…just ‘cause things haven’t been great with my parents, you know?”
“Yeah.” He responded, “That’d be nice though. Just us. In a little corner at the beach we went to? That’d be nice.”
“Yeah.” She whispered with a smile, “I’d get married anywhere you want as long as you’re the one I’m exchanging vows with.” She said without really thinking about it too hard, it was just the truth. When Harry kissed her so passionately it did catch her by surprise, but she easily melted into it and into the mattress as he hovered over her and ground himself, already hard against her center. She whimpered against his mouth as he rubbed into her clit that was still a bit sensitive from before.
“Sorry, baby. I’ve got a raging love-boner.” He mumbled and she smiled.
“S’alright. Just go slow.” She said and he nodded and slowed down the roll of his hips to work her up again.
“I-is there like a time frame you have in mind for when you want to be married by? Or like are there things you want to accomplish before?” He asked before kissing her and then they split up to allow her to respond.
“Not really. I just wanted to be a bit more independent, you know, financially? What about you?”
“Well at this point, at least by the time I’m 30.” He said and she smiled, “So…soon-ish?” He smiled.
“Oh, ok.” She giggled.
“And well I do want to see your ugly side first, just to know what I’m getting into.” He teased and she giggled.
“I don’t have an ugly side. I’m a god-damn delight! You should know that by now.” She joked and he chuckled.
“Sure…”
“Baby, don’t you think you would’ve seen it by now if it was worse? I mean, the worst I am was like our valentine’s day fiasco. Where I was just really rash and avoidant.” She explained.
“That’s true… and well, you’ve seen my worst.” He mumbled with a little embarrassment and she cupped his face and kissed his lips gently.
“Yeah, and I still fell in love with you, so whatever. Right?” She hummed and he smiled.
“Right.” He agreed.
Harry felt right now what Y/N had said earlier, that everything was falling into place. He was just excited to see how everything would develop. He was so hesitant about love and soulmates after everything he had endured, but she shone so fucking bright that it made him hopeful that things could be really, really great if he just let the past go. Harry had never been in love like this before. He just knew that when they went to England and his family got to meet YN, he’d be leaving with the intention to ask her to marry him. But now he just knew that when they got to meet Y/N and saw how perfect they were together they would be encouraging him to take the next step. It was important to him that his family loved her as much as he did and he was completely confident that, that wasn’t going to be a problem.
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finelinefae · 1 month
Text
flower [tattooH x Innocenty/n]
Tumblr media Tumblr media
synopsis: harry's the boy next door, he's also a tattoo artist aannd y/n's sexual awakening because she's an innocent virgin with a flower shop. 
word count: 8.6k
content warnings: smut (fingering, daddy kink, praise kink, virgin Y/N) 
read part 2 here
my first imagine !! i hope u enjoy it !! i enjoy it here very much !
. . .
Y/N had been having a terrible week.
She owned a flower shop called 'Sweet Juniper' which had been hers for almost an entire year. It had been her dream to share her love of flowers with everybody so when she finally saved enough money to set up a shop, she worked tirelessly to make it the best possible floral shop the town had ever seen.
People would put in special requests if they needed flower arrangements for special occasions or others would just come by to just lift their mood a little bit if they were having a tough day. Y/N loved her customers and spent so much time chatting throughout the day all whilst tending to her plants.
But this week was not fun.
The shop next door had been empty for a long time now - ever since Y/N had set up shop. She lived in the flat above the shop so it was ideal not to have to handle any neighbours. But the past few weeks, decorators and construction workers had been making a lot of noise - fixing up the empty shop - which meant someone was moving in.
Y/N hadn't met them yet so she wasn't sure what the shop next door would be. The town was relatively quiet so she expected a bakery or maybe a clothing boutique. Only yesterday, with the shop all set up and ready to go, she found it to be nothing of the sort.
It was dark and music pulsed through the walls of her flower shop. The heavy bass made it sound like someone was trying to fight their way through the floorboards she had painted a very, very light pink.
Her customers had complained especially the older bunch. They had trouble concentrating whenever they tried to talk to her or hear her advice on what the best flowers were during the current autumn season.
So after a not-so-fun week and frequent visits to the corner shop to top up her headache medication, Y/N made the decision to confront her new neighbour and tell them exactly how she felt. She wasn't going to let her flower shop fail because of an inconsiderate, noisy fool.
Y/N flipped the sigh from 'open' to 'closed' and took off her apron which had her name in swirly handwriting embroidered onto the breast pocket. She took three deep breaths and mentally went through her speech. She wouldn't be unkind but she would be fair.
"You can do this Y/N," She said to herself before she exhaled and opened the door to walk five steps over to her next-door neighbour.
She hadn't seen the shop properly since the decorating was completed so was immediately struck by how dark it was in comparison to her own shop. It was painted black with illustrations and pictures of people's tattoos set up in the shop window.
The pavement was lit up in the darkness by the red neon lights coming from inside the shop. Everything about it was so different to her baby pink and white flower shop.
The sudden thought of turning back and going upstairs to her apartment almost tempted her enough to turn away but she knew the problem would not be resolved if she were to sit by and do nothing.
Her Mary Jane heels tapped against the pavement as she came to stand in front of the door. It seemed as though the shop was still open, so she pushed the door and stepped inside.
The smell of tobacco and musk and ink hit her senses as she closed the door behind her. The heavy bass of the music was now pounding through her ears. The nerves were rising within her and turning back seemed much more tempting now.
She spun on her heel and reached for the door handle, only to be stopped by someone clearing their throat.
"Are you here for a tattoo?" His voice was deep, husky and... pretty.
She turned around and was met with a tall figure standing in the doorway to the back of the shop. His arms were by his side and he was wearing a black, fitted shirt with black trousers and low cut doc martens with red laces. His face was illuminated by the red, neon sign on the wall with the words 'Styles INK' written in a grungey font.
"T-tattoo?" She gulped, the script she had rehearsed over and over again was nowhere to be found like the words had silently fallen from her brain, through her nose and slipped from her mouth before she had time to speak them out loud.
He walked to the front desk, footsteps heavy against the wooden floor. "We don't take walk-ins this late at night if that's what you're after."
The tone of his voice made her tremble in her heels. She curled her fingers into a fist and tried to stop her heart from beating so fast. "I-I'm not here for a tattoo. I-I'm actually from next door."
His head lifted up, she could finally see the colour of his eyes were a pale green and his hair was curly and brunette. "Ahhh," He dropped the pen he was fiddling with on the desk, "The flower girl."
She huffed, "Yes, that would be me."
"M allergic to flowers." He said.
"W-what? Why would you set up shop next to a flower shop then?" She asked.
"Only place that offered a space with an apartment." A breath slipped past her lips.
He was not only her shop neighbour but her neighbour neighbour too.
Well, this just made things a bit more awkward.
He came in front of the desk and leaned against it, crossing his arms. Y/N saw every inch of the skin on his arm littered with tattoos and even caught a glimpse of his ring-clad fingers. "Listen, if you're not here for a tattoo then why are you here? I need to close up so I'd appreciate it if you were quick with whatever it is you came here for."
Y/N swallowed her nerves, "Your music is too loud a-and it's driving my customers away."
"What was that?" He wanted her to repeat herself.
"Y-Your music, it's much too loud and my customers are c-complaining." She wished she didn't stutter but at least she got what she needed to say out.
"My music?" His eyebrows scrunch up.
"Yes." She nods.
"What about your music?" He retorts, "s all I can hear when I'm upstairs."
She immediately blushes and wonders how long he has been staying in the apartment upstairs. Y/N was so used to not having neighbours that she hadn't thought to turn her music down or take a break from her lonesome karaoke nights.
"That's different."
"If I have to hear you sing to that broken-hearted, bubble-gum pop princess every night then you can't complain about me playing my music like I have." He argues.
"B-but I don't play it in the day like you do! It's so loud! It is - hey quit laughing!" She huffs when he snickers at her.
"M sorry, you're just so little." He laughs. "Maybe that's why I haven't seen you since I've moved in."
Y/N crossed her arms, "I'd just appreciate it if you turned your music down a little, just so my customers can shop for their flowers in peace."
He says nothing. Instead, his eyes scan her face and then fall on the rest of her. She was wearing light blue jeans and a pink, cosy sweater. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail with a white, silk ribbon and her heels were still on her now aching feet.
He smirks, "Alright, I'll turn my music down but you have to do the same. I don't want to hear you sing about Romeo and Juliet or running out of the woods at 11 o'clock at night when I'm trying to relax."
She turns pink but luckily the red light hides the true colour of her cheeks, "Fine." She huffs and turns on her heel, too embarassed to say anything else.
"It was nice to meet you, flower." He says and she swears she can hear him smiling.
Her entire face heats at the nickname.
***
The next day, Y/N walked downstairs to her flower shop and prepared for a new day. She spent the rest of her night after visiting the stranger next door, quietly listening to music in hopes he would reciprocate today.
She hadn't seen him since last night and part of her was grateful for that. He was tall and intimidating and covered in tattoos but his voice was just so...nice that she couldn't seem to get the thought of him out of her head since she walked out of his tattoo shop. It was embarrassing to admit and Y/N was awfully bad at hiding her emotions so she hoped that would be the last time she'd speak to him face to face.
When she flipped the sign on the door to 'open', she held her breath as she waited for the sound of heavy, rock music coming through the walls only to find complete silence. She smiled and mindfully tapped herself on the back for being brave enough to go over and stand her ground.
Her customers were happy with the change too. They stayed and chatted with Y/N for a while, bringing home their baskets of flowers. The day had been much more successful than the past week had and she was thankful things would finally get back on track.
After cleaning the shop at the end of the day, she walked upstairs to her apartment and immediately decided to get into her new cute pyjamas she had ordered from Hollister - long trouser bottoms and a cute tank top both covered in the same pink, ditsy floral print.
She made herself some dinner and snuggled up on her tiny couch with her pet cat, Marshel, nestling to the side of her. Y/N hummed in delight when she made the decision to re-watch her favourite Harry Potter movie- it was the best film for the autumn weather.
Ten minutes into the movie sounds of people speaking and loud music sounded through the walls of her apartment. "Oh please no," She looked up at the ceiling, praying that someone out there would put her out of her misery.
It could only be her new neighbour, the tattoo artist, the one with the nice voice.
She pressed her ear against the door of her apartment and from the racket of people speaking and how loud the music was, she knew he was having a party.
"It's going to be a long night Marsh." She sighs, picking up her kitty and carrying him to bed.
At 2 am, Y/N was still awake. The party was still going and the music had yet to quieten down.
Y/N had been tossing and turning all night. Tears in her eyes as she tried to sleep but couldn't because of the loud noises coming from next door. At this rate, she'd only get four hours of sleep before she had to be up again for the busiest day of the week at the shop.
She couldn't handle it anymore. She flipped her duvet off and swung her legs over the bed. Her eyes fighting to stay open as she stumbled for the door.
At this rate, she was so tired she didn't care how she looked. She just wanted the quiet.
She flung her front door open and already found herself outside the tattoo artist's door. She knocked but the music was so loud, the only thing she could do was invite herself in.
The door opened and suddenly she was in a whole new world. There was cigarette smoke and a strong stench of alcohol. It was dark but red LED lights lit the room. People were laying on the floor or sitting around chairs or dancing in the empty spaces. There must have been about thirty people but with how tiny the apartment was it felt like much more.
Y/N took a deep breath and began her mission to find the source of where the music was coming from. Everyone was much taller than her which made it harder for her to push past people, especially in their drunken state.
"Excuse me please," she mumbled.
"Flower," his voice made her freeze in place.
She stilled and spun round on her sock-covered feet, making a mental note to throw them in the trash when she got home.
The person standing in front of her looked the same, wearing the same all black outfit he wore yesterday. She could see the illustrations of his tattoos a little better this close and she could also see the anger that covered the features of his face.
"Y-you." She said through parted lips, unable to hide her fear or shock.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" He grabbed her arm and pulled her to a corner of the room. He placed his hand on the wall behind her and covered her with his body like he wanted to hide her away.
"The m-music it's too loud and I-I can't sleep." She said, nearing on tears.
"You and your loud music." He muttered, "It's Saturday night. Shops aren't open on a Sunday."
"Mine is." She said.
"What?"
"I open my shop on a Sunday. I do work shops for little kids whose parents have to work on weekends and for elderly people who get a little lonely." It was her favourite day of the week but now she was dreading it because of the lack of sleep.
His expression seemed to soften but he rolled his eyes, "Of course you do."
"I just need to sleep for four more hours and then you can carry on doing whatever you're doing." He smirked.
"You've never been to a party before flower girl?" She shook her head and yawned.
Harry's smile fell and he sighed. He looked around at the party and then at the sleepy girl in front of him. "Fucks sake." He muttered and wrapped an arm around her.
Y/N's eyes widened when his hand rested on her shoulder. He tucked her into his side and quickly manoeuvred past everybody.
"Is that your new girl Styles?"
"Nice one, H."
"Have fun Styles."
"Ignore them." Harry told her as he reached their front door.
"Is that your name? Styles?" Y/N realised she had yet to ask what his name actually was.
"S Harry. You call me Harry." He says and she smiles at how normal and soft his name was compared to his dark and grizzly stature.
She hadn't realised what he was doing until he opened the door to her apartment. She gasped, suddenly wide awake and highly alert considering he was now in her very messy, untidy apartment.
"W-what are you doing?" She ran to her sofa and picked her blankets up from the floor before grabbing her bowl of popcorn from the coffee table that was littered with books and magazines she was halfway through reading.
Harry's eyes darted around her small apartment. The corner of his lips flinched into an almost smile when he saw the pastel colours littered around the place. It was so her - cute and cosy.
"You wanted to sleep." He said, "M helping you sleep."
Her mouth opened and closed in shock, "Helping me sleep?"
"Mhm, I've got these," He pulled out some earbuds from his pocket, "They're noise cancelling. Can't hear a sound when you've got them in your ears."
She looked at them in intrigue, "Where's your room?" He wondered, already walking in the direction of her bedroom like he'd been in her apartment many times before.
"My room's a little untidy," She tried to get past him so she could block him from coming into her room but he was much too tall.
"Don't care flower, just helping you out." He walked into the messy bedroom and paid no mind to the state of the floor. She'd never had a man in her room before so wasn't sure exactly what to do. Her apartment seemed so much smaller from his presence alone. "Get into bed, love." He pulled out his phone.
"O-okay," She said and tucked herself under her blanket.
It was strange to let a person she barely knew into the confines of her room but she was too tired to care and something inside of her trusted him.
He crouched beside her, resting an arm on her mattress. "Here put these in," He handed her the headphones, "Can you hear me?" He asked but received no reply, instead, Y/N giggled.
"I can't hear you Harry!" She laughed and something weird happened in his chest.
He smiled, "Tha's good." He murmured and put on a song he knew she would like.
Her heart stopped beating in her chest when the gentle piano music began to play. An instrumental of 'Cardigan' by her favourite singer whispered into her ears as he played it on a low volume.
"Sleep now flower." He encouraged.
"M name's Y/N." She whispered, her eyes fluttering shut, "You can call me Y/N."
"Y/N," He whispered back and the name seemed to unlock something deep inside of him. He said it once more for good measure before leaving her there with the music still playing.
***
Y/N woke up the next morning with a phone that was not hers resting right by her head. She had managed to fall asleep for four hours thanks to the man who she now knew as Harry. She felt as though last night was a fever dream and Harry had been a guardian angel, granting her sleep at last.
She could have slept in for another four hours but the shop would not run itself and she had many workshops on today that a lot of people had signed up for. She grabbed Harry's phone and made a mental note to give it back to him before she went to open the shop.
She made herself a good breakfast and fed Marshel as well, before getting dressed into a grey mini dress with a cute white collar and an encrusted black bow. She tied her hair back into a half up, half down and fastened it with a black bow to match her dress. She wore the same black Mary Jane heels and a bag with her packed lunch inside.
When she left her apartment, she listened out for any loud music coming from Harry's apartment only to be met with silence. She knocked three times- his phone in her hands- but no one answered.
She'd come back later, she thought. Maybe he was also catching up on some much-needed sleep.
Her first workshop of the day was with a group of children.
Their parents worked weekends and some of them were from the orphanage that they had signed up to help them develop new hobbies. Y/N knew them all by name and loved teaching them how to grow their own tomato plants and arrange flowers with cute bows.
An hour before lunch, she had a class with a group of mothers whose children had just left home. Most of them came because they needed a little company on the weekends when not a lot was going on at home or they wanted to pick up a new hobby.
In the midst of her basket weaving session, Y/N heard a phone ring. She glanced at the phone still on the front desk and saw the screen lighting up. "Excuse me ladies," she slid off the chair and walked over to Harry's phone.
Mike Supplier was the name on the screen. She wondered whether or not it was important and if she should answer it just in case. The phone stopped ringing for a brief moment until the name lit up the screen again.
"Seems important, Y/N." One of the ladies said.
Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and walked to the back room, pressing the green button to accept the call. "Fucking finally!" A gruff voice speaks on the other end, "I've got your stash when do you want it?"
"Excuse me?" Y/N blushed, not use to such aggressive language.
The person paused, "Are you Styles' new lady? Listen can you put him on the phone? I need to speak to him urgently."
Y/N was in shock, "I'm not his lady! I'm his neighbour."
"Well, whatever you are could you just pass the phone to him?"
"Give me a second," She huffed, entering the shop again and turning towards the ladies who were in deep conversation, "Ladies, I just need a moment to go next door." They nodded.
Y/N could hear Mike Supplier cursing over the phone even as she had it by her side. She noticed Harry's shop was still unopened so went upstairs instead.
She knocked on the door of his apartment repeatedly until she finally heard footsteps coming towards the door. His door swung open, "Can I help you flower?" Her eyes widened.
He stood in the doorway with nothing but grey sweatpants and socks. His bare torso was littered with tattoos and his brunette hair was clipped with a tiny claw clip.
"Your p-phone," She held it out to him. His eyebrows furrowed like he had a lot of questions as to why she had his phone but he took it from her anyway and held it to his ear.
"Yeah, yeah shut up." He spoke. Y/N could still hear Mike Supplier talking on the other end. "Come by this afternoon. I'll wait outside the shop and don't wear that dodgy fucking hat this time."
The conversation ended and Y/N stood awkwardly in front of him. "Well I should go,"
"Wait," Harry stopped her "Did you steal my phone from me flower girl?"
"N-no! You left it in my apartment." She argued.
"Oh yeah," he grins like he was thinking back to being in her room last night, "Your lips go all pouty and you snore when you sleep you know that? 'S cute."
"Hey," she huffed, "I do not snore!"
"Whatever you say baby." Her cheeks warmed at the new nickname he had accidentally added to the seemingly growing collection.
"W-well who was that anyway. He was a little rude." She mumbled.
"You spoke to him?" He arched a brow, "was he rude to you?"
"He swore at me,"
"Dick." Harry muttered, "He's my supplier."
"Oh like for the shop?" She asked. Harry could have sworn he was having palpitations from how innocent she looked.
"No baby," he smirked, "a different kind of supplier."
"Oh," she said, still not fully understanding what he was getting at, "Well I better get down to the shop. My class is waiting for me."
"Sure I'll come with you." He grabbed a sweater and his jacket from the coat hanger.
"Wait, what? No."
"I'm bored and I want to hang out with you." He shrugs, "I don't see how that's a problem."
"You want to hang out with me?" She couldn't make sense of it.
"Mhm," He shut the door of his apartment behind him, "Lead the way, flower girl."
Y/N argued with him as they walked back downstairs. She tried to push him out of the shop before he could even step foot inside but she was too small for his 6ft frame and he gently grabbed her waist and picked her up as if she weighed nothing, stepping into the shop.
All eyes turned in their direction. Y/N blushed and stuttered as she said, "L-ladies, this is my neighbour."
"Hi, I'm Harry." He said from behind.
The ladies looked confused and then concerned and then suddenly they were grinning ear to ear, slipping out of their seats to welcome their new guest.
"Oh Harry, you look as old as my boy! It's so lovely to meet you." Mildred, one of the elder ladies said.
"Nice to meet you too." He spoke in a warm, almost flirtatious way.
Y/N stood there in shock, her mouth opening and closing like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Kathy and Lucy had already sat him in between them both and got him the things he needed to weave a basket.
"Are you interested in flowers Harry?" Julia asked.
He looked across the table over at Y/N whose cheeks seemed to be a shade of red they'd never even been before. "Only one."
"Oh well Y/N's an excellent teacher. We're making hanging baskets to plant daffodils in them for the spring."
"Hmm I guess I've come to the best place to learn then." His eyes remained fixed on Y/N who defeatedly picked up her basket to show Harry exactly how to make one himself.
"How are you so good at this?" Y/N whispered in awe as Harry finished his basket.
"These hands are good with fiddly things." He says.
"Oh that's wonderful Harry!" Kathy exclaimed, "You could take over Y/N's job. Might help her out and she can finally have a much deserved rest."
"S that right? You tired flower?" Harry murmured when he saw Y/N's eyes opening and closing as she leant against the desk.
"Not tried at all," she lied but Harry seemed to see right through her.
"Hmm," he frowned which immediately had Y/N standing straight and trying to disguise her exhaustion a little better.
"You hungry?" A tall shadow loomed in front of Y/N as she sat at the desk, processing payments for her classes and labelling the baskets for the ladies to take home.
She looked up and saw Harry, his voice now a familiarity after the last almost twenty four hours since she had met him. "A-a little." She decided not to lie this time since apparently, she was much easier to read than she thought.
"I've got food upstairs, wanna come up?" He asks.
"A-Are you sure?" 
"C'mon little flower, I wouldn't be asking you if I didn't mean it." With a nod, Y/N locked up the shop for lunch and followed Harry up to his apartment. When she stepped inside, it was completely different to how it had been last night. 
It was clean and tidy. A few boxes were lying on the carpeted floor of his open living room here and there, but for the most part, it was pretty neat. Y/N's eyes were immediately taken by the prints hanging up on the wall. 
"These are incredible." She gasped, feeling particularly fond of a line drawing of a woman. 
"It's my mother," He stood next to her, looking up at the drawing with her. 
"You drew it?" She asked, wide-eyed.
"Mhm," He hummed. 
"Wow, no wonder you're a tattoo artist," She glanced at the intricate tattoos littered on his arms. 
"Ever thought of getting one yourself?" He asked. 
"N-Not really, I'm no good with needles." She said, rather sheepishly. 
He smirked, "Let's get some food in that tummy." 
Twenty minutes later, Y/N and Harry sat on the small two-person couch eating sandwiches and a fruit salad they had prepared together in Harry's even smaller kitchen. Y/N giggled as Harry threw a grape into the air and tried to catch it in his mouth.
"T-tell me about your tattoos," Y/N insisted after taking a bite out of a strawberry. Harry's eyes looked down at her lips and back to her big, doe eyes. "What does this one mean?" She questioned, pointing to the words written in Hebrew.
"M' sisters name," He starts, "And that says 'Can I stay?'" 
"Hmm, you have a lot of hearts." She said, fingers lightly touching the human heart on his arm. 
"I have a lot of love." He grins, cheekily, like he knew the line was cheesy but wanted to use it anyway. He was glad he did from the smile it had formed on Y/N's face.
Y/N hadn't realised how close they had gotten until she felt his breath on her neck.  Her voice wavers slightly as she tries not to think too much about it, "And what about this one," She points to the rose, her fingers tracing the petals. 
"I did that one myself," He murmured, lips close to her ear. 
"You did?" She said but it came out more as a whisper. She seemed to have forgotten how to breathe, her brain turning to mush and all her thoughts suddenly turning into Harry. 
"Mhm," She glanced up and his deep, green eyes were already boring into her. Her eyes darted down to his lips and then back up again. "You're pretty," He mumbled, loud enough so she could hear.
She shook her head, "I-I don't think so," She was suddenly flustered and confused and wondering why her brain was not acting the way it usually did. 
"I know so," His hand reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ears, and she shudders when his fingertips brush against her cheek. Slowly his head inches forward and the nearer he gets it feels as though more oxygen leaves the room. "Relax," He whispers, touching her hand, "You're okay flower girl."
"H-Harry, I-I've never kissed anyone before." She admits, embarrassment flooding her. 
"What?" He furrows his eyebrows. 
"O-oh, it's just that... I've never been k-kissed before."
"By anyone?" She nods. "Impossible." He whispers.
"We can stop if you want to," He says, his voice gentle and comforting.
"No," She wraps her small fingers around his wrist before he pulls away, "I-I want to,"
"Want to what?" He smirks, "You've gotta tell me baby."
"I want to k-kiss you," She blushes, it's all she seems to do around him.
"Cute," He murmurs before his lips press to hers.
Y/N's not sure what to do at first, her eyes are open and shock courses through her, but Harry's lips move against hers and he breathes, "Relax flower," He insists and she does. 
Her eyes flutter shut and she mimics his movements. What he gives, she gives right back and a small whimper leaves her when he kisses her even harder. She starts to lose her breath with how long they kiss for but she's far too deep, floating too much, to pull away. She grabs the back of his neck and pulls him in closer, a groan eliciting from somewhere deep inside him. "Baby," The name escapes his lips and a shiver runs through her. 
With panting breaths, she pulls away and so does he. Her face is flushed and his lips are pink, "You okay?" Is the first thing he asks, receiving a nod. "I think 'm a little bit obsessed with you." He confesses.
"M-Me?" She couldn't believe what he was saying. 
"Don't think I've ever wanted anything more," He looks away like being vulnerable is a foreign thing for him.
"Why?" She can't help but ask.
He shrugs, "Sometimes it just is." 
She thinks on his words before replying, "Can we kiss again?" 
Harry chuckles, "Kiss me all you want flower."
. . .
Y/N had a permanent smile on her face the next day as she went back to work. People asked her what was making her so happy and she was constantly finding things to lie about instead of speaking the name of the tattooed boy next door. 
An hour before lunch, the postman came to deliver her new ribbons for the bouquets and accidentally dropped off a package meant for Harry. Y/N couldn't help but smile at his name written on a brown box. 
"Give me a second ladies, I'm just going to pop next door." Y/N grinned, ignoring the knowing looks of the ladies she was teaching. 
As Y/N walked next door, her confidence seemed to shrink with every step. She realised she had yet to go to Harry's tattoo shop when he was actually working and she knew she would stick out like a sore thumb once she took a step inside. She was wearing a lilac dress and white heels, of course, she was going to stand out.
The bell rang as she stepped inside and a few customers looked up, some of them doing a double take at the small girl. Music played through the speakers but it was a lot less quiet compared to the first day Harry's shop had opened. 
Footsteps walked on the wooden floorboards and Harry walked out from the back room. His eyes caught sight of Y/N and his frown immediately turned into a smile. He held his arms out for her and she quickly walked into his embrace. "Hi flower," He murmured into her hair. 
"I came to drop off your package," She held out the box to him when he let her out of his arms.
"Oh," He took the package from her, "That's all?"
She bit back a smile, "Mmm, I may have something very important to tell you," She gave him a not-so-subtle wink.
He grinned, almost wickedly, "Well, do follow me this way to tell me this very important thing," He led her way from the waiting area and somewhere closed off and hidden from everywhere else. 
When they were alone, he grabbed her hips and hoisted her up onto a countertop, knocking things over. "Harry," She giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. 
"Shhh no more talking baby," He said before kissing her lips that he spent all night dreaming about. Their mouths were wet and hot against each other as they made out in a closet hidden away from Harry's customers.
His hands slid down her back and around her waist, pinching her hips, "Did you wear this dress f' me baby?" He murmured, the tone of his voice sending shivers up Y/N's spine. 
"Wanted to be pretty for you." She told him. She had spent all morning trying to find a nice outfit to wear, not only for work but for when she saw Harry too.
"Fuck," He groaned against her lips, "Where have you been all my life?" 
Y/N felt like a teenage girl getting all flustered and hot over a boy. She'd never experienced being with someone in this way before and now she had a taste for it and couldn't get enough of him. She had left Harry's apartment yesterday in a daze and she felt like she was still floating from the high of her first kiss. 
He stood in between her legs and she subconsciously rolled her hips against him. She gasped in both shock and at the feeling of him against her, "You're okay baby," He soothed her, sensing her confusion.
"Feels good huh?" He pulled her hips into him again and she felt a moan bubble in her throat. "Have you ever touched yourself Y/N?" He wondered. 
She froze, "N-no," She confessed, embarrassed. 
"Nothing to be ashamed of baby," He comforts her, his words soothing the insecure part of her. He kissed her lips softly, "Can I visit you this evening?"
She nods without even thinking about it, "Please," 
He smirks, "Please baby? Please? What are you asking for?"
She didn't know, her mind was foggy and all she could see was him, "Everything." 
His eyes darkened but his smirk never left, "'M polite little flower."
"Harry," She whined, burying her face in his neck. 
Harry laughed and cupped the back of her with his hand, kissing her forehead, "I'll come visit tonight and you better be wearing those cute pyjamas," He knew she was smiling because he could feel her lips against his neck. 
That evening after Y/N had closed the shop, she ran upstairs to her apartment and kicked off her heels. She ran around her living room, hiding things she didn't want Harry to see and flinging dirty laundry into the washing basket. 
She walked into her very pink bedroom and pulled out her pyjamas, happy to finally be wearing something comfortable. She spritzed some of her favourite perfume and rubbed vanilla lotion into her skin. 
Y/N sat on her sofa with Marshel seated by her feet on the carpeted floor. She switched on the TV and watched a few episodes of friends whilst continuing to finish her knitting project - she was making a blanket since one of the ladies from her group was pregnant and would be giving birth very soon. 
She fought to keep her eyes open as she waited for Harry to knock on her door. His shop was meant to have closed twenty minutes ago so she assumed he'd be here by now. 
Slowly, an hour had gone by and Y/N was getting worried. Her mind spun with insecurities and a sudden fear that something might have happened to Harry. She placed her knitting project on her coffee table and patted Marshel on the head. She walked to the door and slid her sock covered feet into her brown UGG boots. 
The shop was not its usual LED red colour when she came to stand in front of the window, instead it was neon blue. Y/N frowned when she heard music playing from inside and checked to see whether the door was open.
Her hand pushed the door handle, the door swinging open and the muffled music suddenly became coherent. She could hear voices coming from the back room where Harry tattooed his customers.
Walking towards the sound, Y/N eventually caught the sound of Harry's voice amongst the group of people chatting. Her shoulders relaxed at the thought of him being here, at least she knew she'd be okay if he was there with her. 
Turning the corner, her eyes landed on Harry with two other tattooed men, smoking something that - in Y/N's opinion - smelt a little strange. 
Harry must have sensed her presence as he turned his head and caught sight of her hiding behind the corner wall. He smiled, "Hey flower," 
"Hi," She murmured, feeling embarassed. 
"C'mere," He held out his arm for her and she scurried towards him, attaching herself to him by snuggling her body into his side. He put an arm around her, kissing her forehead. "I thought I was meeting you upstairs?"
Y/N frowned, "You took too long,"
He smirked, "M impatient girl," He nodded towards the two men he was talking to, "Y/N, these are 'm friends, Mike and Dan."
"Mike supplier," Y/N whispered, finally putting a face to the name of the man she had spoken to on Harry's phone.
He was tall and bald with a beard and looked to be in his forties. Like Harry, he also had tattoos but not nearly as much. Beside him was Dan who looked closer in age to Harry, maybe a little older. He was blonde but wore a cap on his head and a silver chain around his neck. 
After Harry had finished smoking with his friends, he said his goodbyes and led Y/N upstairs back to her apartment. "What were you smoking? It smelt funny," Y/N asked,"
Harry fell back onto the couch and pulled her down with him. She lay on top of him, the smell of the smoke still lingering on his clothes. "'S just a bit of weed." He confessed.
Y/N gasped, "Weed? Is that legal?" 
Harry looked at her amused, "Not here but it doesn't do much harm to me, been smoking it for ages." He twirled a piece of hair around his finger, "Does that bother you?"
She thought about it but the idea didn't really seem to phase her. As long as he was being safe and was using it in a healthy sort of way, she didn't mind. "N-no, not at all." Harry's smile widened into a grin. He didn't hesitate to kiss her, feeling her soft lips which had recently become his new obsession. They were so soft and red and kissable and made just for him. 
Y/N didn't want him to stop kissing her whenever he did. She loved the feeling of her eyes fluttering shut and all of her senses just filling up with him. Harry pulled away, still cupping her cheek in his hand. Y/N's chest heaved up and down against him as she tried to catch her breath, "Breathe, flower." His heart ached when she looked up at him with swollen red lips, trying to catch her breath. "Lose your breath a little bit huh?"
"A little," She huffed. 
"You're too cute." 
Y/N kissed him again once she had caught enough air again. Harry sat up, pulling on the roots of her hair as her legs wrapped around him so she was straddling him. She whimpered, tugging on the fabric of his t-shirt.
"What do you want baby?" Harry mumbles against her parted lips. 
"Take it off," She whispers, pulling on his shirt. 
Harry does as he's told, pulling his shirt up over his head and revealing his muscular, tattoed torso. Y/N's eyes widened. She'd never seen something so beautiful, he looked as though he was one of those marble statues in a museum. "Eyes on me baby," Harry smiled, pushing her chin up with his finger so her eyes were looking directly into his. "What now?"
"I-I-I don't know," She blushed, losing her confidence now that they were no longer kissing. 
"We don't have to do anything you don't want." He looked at her with a soft gaze.
"I-I don't want to disappoint you." She admits, her insecurities coming to the surface. 
"Couldn't disappoint me baby, ever." She smiles, feeling secure in his words and his hold. Y/N leans forward and rubs her cheek against his chest. Harry's hands go beneath the tank top of her pyjamas, brushing her bare back. "If it helps I've never done this before."
She's shocked but she tries to hide it, "W-what do you mean?"
"Been intimate with someone." 
She smiled. 
She really, really liked him.
. . .
For weeks after, Y/N was obsessed with two things. 
Her flower shop and her tattooed boyfriend next door.
When she wasn't working, she was with Harry, either cooking in his apartment or cuddling together on the couch in her living room. Harry had also developed a new taste for basket weaving, joining in on Y/N's Sunday classes with the elderly ladies in the morning. 
In the short time they had known each other, Y/N had come to learn that Harry wasn't a morning person but he never missed a Sunday class even when he was exhausted from the busy day before at the tattoo shop. He would stumble downstairs with dishevelled hair and sleepy eyes in sweatpants and a hoodie, sitting in his seat between Mildred and Julia as they fussed over him. 
Y/N had also grown a love for kissing Harry at every opportunity. She'd take many five-minute breaks, walking over to the tattoo shop and kissing Harry in the cupboard or visiting him in the alleyway behind the building where they'd make out against the brick wall. Even Harry had an addiction to his girlfriend's very kissable lips, sneaking out of his shop in between appointments to smother her in kisses in the storage cupboard. 
"Hey Marshy little fur ball," Y/N bit back a grin when she heard the door of her apartment open and the familiar gruff voice speak to her little cat. 
She swung her legs over her bed and paused the movie she was watching, running to the front door and leaping into his arms, "Hi flower," Harry murmured, inhaling the scent of her coconut shampoo. 
Y/N nuzzled her face against his jumper and squeezed him tightly, "Hi Harry," She sighed, blissfully.
"Wanted to come see ya, hope tha's okay." He kissed her quickly. 
"Course, I was watching a film in my room." She tugged on his hand and lead him to her bedroom. 
Harry had spent nights in Y/N's room before. Sometimes he would ask her if it was okay if he took a nap in her bed whenever he finished work early because it was much comfier than his. She'd find him curled up under her blankets, hugging one of her stuffed animals to his chest with the hood of his sweatshirt over his head.
Harry removes his sweatshirt, leaving him in only sweatpants, before he crawls into bed and pats the spot beside him. Y/N turns on the movie but knows that neither of them has any plans of watching it. 
With the amount of kissing they had been doing, Y/N hoped she had gotten a lot better. She realised Harry would often make small, quiet noises whenever she did something he liked, like tugging on his hair or sticking her tongue in his mouth. 
It wasn't long before they were making out again on her bed. Her leg hooked around his hip and her hands in his hair as he gripped her waist, every now and then he would squeeze her ass remembering the first time he did it and how much she loved it from the soft moans that left her. 
Y/N thought that kissing Harry was the best thing in the entire world but what she didn't know was that Harry had plenty more up his sleeve. 
His hand slid from her waist and down to her bare thigh - she was only wearing pyjama shorts since her apartment was pretty warm. He squeezed her softly, "Can I feel you baby?" He asked.
Y/N froze, not sure how to react. "I-I-"
Harry cupped her cheek, "I know," He already knew what she was thinking before she even said anything, "We can carry on doing what we're doing if you prefer. It's no rush." 
"N-no," She grabbed his wrist in both her hands. Y/N was a virgin but she wasn't afraid... Just inexperienced and that made her a little wary. But with Harry, she knew she wanted to allow that part of herself to him. Maybe not the whole thing but a little something. 
"Y-you can feel me... I-if you like." She said, awkwardly. 
Harry chuckles, "What about if you like, hmm?" His fingertip traced circles on her thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps. 
"I-I would l-like that p-please." She whispered.
Harry grinned, "Only because you're so polite sweet girl."
Harry's arm slides between her legs and hooks his fingers around her pyjamas bottoms to pull them down her legs. Y/N inwardly praised herself for shaving the night before yet she was pretty sure Harry wouldn't mind either way. Harry tuts when he sees her underwear, "Did m' little flower get all wet from kissing on daddy?" 
She felt the air leave the room and her body heat at the nickname. It was so dirty and yet she felt herself aching from his words. "Y-yes," She breathes. 
"Yes what baby?" He kisses up her thigh. 
"Yes daddy," She murmurs. 
Harry eyes darken as he looks down between her thighs, "My good, polite girl." He pinches the flesh on her thigh and she feels her chest heave.  Y/N gasps for air when his fingers trace the fabric of her underwear and her heart races even more when he moves her underwear to the side to see a part of herself no one had ever seen before.
"Fuck me," He whispers under his breath. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen." 
"R-really?" Y/N blushes, her cheeks hot.
"Don't think I've ever seen something so pretty." 
"T-thank you, daddy." She whispers the last part but it doesn't stop the bulge from growing in Harry's sweatpants. 
"Have you always been this needy when we kiss baby?" Harry murmured in her ear as his fingers part her pussy. He tries to stop himself from groaning at the slick wetness that coats his fingers.
Y/N gasps at the new feeling but is immediately overcome by pleasure as Harry begins to move his finger back up to her clit, "Harry," She whimpers. 
Harry's quick to pull his hand away, "Nuh uh baby, that's not my name."
Y/N's head was all dizzy but she managed to reply, "Daddy, please," She whines.
"Barely even touched you and you're already whining," He tuts before rubbing his thumb over her clit and making small, slow circles. Y/N whimpers at the new sensation of intense pleasure. "Does that feel good flower?" He asks, nipping her ear as he murmurs against it. 
"S-so good- so good daddy, so, so good." She babbles as he continues to tease her clit with his thumb. 
"Who'd have thought I had such a naughty girl hmm?" She arches into his touch as he moves his finger in a certain way. She wonders how she managed to go on for so long without feeling something so blissfully delightful. 
"Put your hand here baby," Harry instructs, reaching for her hand that wasn't currently scrunching the duvet, and placing it flat over the top of his, "Let me show you how to touch yourself. Watch daddy," Y/N's eyes look down to see his gold ring-clad fingers drenched in her wetness, his tattooed hand moving in circles as her rubs her clit. "This is how I want you to touch yourself when you think of me baby and when you're good, I'll make your perfect, little hole feel good too." Y/N gasps and clenches when he brushes a finger against her hole. 
"I-I'm good-Please, I'm good," She mewls and her hand grips his wrist instead. She uses it as leverage to twist and turn into him, the pleasure overwhelmingly good she can't help but hide her face in his neck. 
"You are good," He kisses her forehead, "My good girl." She nods at his praise, eyes shut. 
Harry forces her legs a part and continues to pleasure her in a way she didn't know about until today. She writhes and moans beneath his touch as he whispers dirty things into her ear. "I want you to cum baby, think you can do that?" 
"Mhm," She sighs, already feeling the bubble of pressure in her tummy. "F-feels - feel's s-so-" 
"Feel good m'love?" He coos, "Cum f' me. Cum f' daddy, wanna see you soak my hand." 
At his words, Y/N whimpers as she becomes increasingly sensitive the more he circles her clit. Harry feels as though he's about to explode as he watches her cheeks flush pink and she grinds her pussy against his hand as she rides out her orgasm. "That's it my little flower, so good." He praises her, feeling her shudder as she finishes coming down from her high.
She's panting heavily as Harry slides her panties back into place. "You okay?" Harry checks, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Y/N nods and instantly feels embarrassed, hiding herself in the crook of his neck. Harry chuckles, "That was the hottest thing I've ever seen."
"You're lying," Y/N says, her voice muffled against him.
"Never gonna lie to you flower, never." He promises. 
Y/N removes herself from her hiding place and looks up at him. Harry's heart bursts in his chest when she sees her sleepy, blissful gaze. He wonders where this girl has been all his life and how he managed to go this long without her. He was pretty sure he was falling in love with her but that was a conversation for another day.
"W-what about you?" Y/N looks down and sees the very noticeable bulge in his trousers. 
Harry shakes his head, "Not today," He smiles, "We have plenty of time to experiment some more but think you've had enough experimenting for one night."
"Me too," Y/N curls into his side, not bothering to put her pyjama bottoms back on. "Having sex is exhausting." 
"We didn't even have sex, silly girl." Harry laughs.
"Felt like it," She mumbles against him.
"I'm that good huh?" He grins, cheekily, "Just you wait baby,"
"The best," She slurs, yawning, "M so tired." 
"Yeah? You sleepy baby?" He kisses her forehead. "Get some sleep m'love," He wraps an arm around her and tucks her into his chest. 
"I like you very much Harry," She whispers, sleepily. 
"I like you very much too." Harry replies, holding her close.
psa don't let strangers into your room... actually don't let anyone into your room
3K notes · View notes
freedomfireflies · 5 months
Text
Knockout*
Summary: The one where Harry is a handsome stranger who always comes to your diner covered in bruises.
Word Count: 9.4k (jeepers, sorry!)
Content Warning: 18+, smut, slight exhibitionism, very brief violence
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Your stranger is here.
He’s sitting in his favorite booth, fifth one down from the first row, directly next to the window.
He’s got his usual hoodie pulled over his head, obscuring any view of his face. His clothes are dark and seem to cover nearly every inch of his skin. His knuckles are wrapped in white gauze, but are stained with streaks of red.
And he’s looking down. Staring at the menu on the table as though he doesn’t order the exact same thing every time.
A cup of coffee – black – and a slice of pie.
He’s like clockwork. He comes in exactly five minutes after midnight, takes a seat in his booth, and orders his usual.
Then, he pays his bill, and he leaves.
You’ve grown used to him. Comfortable with the idea of his face and his voice and the strange, but unsettling presence he brings with him.
You find that it’s more unnerving when he’s not here than when he is. 
“Hi, Cherry.”
Your stranger’s voice cuts through the quiet diner and forces your attention from the mug of coffee you’re pouring. 
You glance up, finally able to see his face now that he’s lifted his head. His skin is littered with deep cuts and vicious scratches. There’s a bruise just by his eye that’s dissolving into an unsettling shade of purple and his bottom lip is split down the middle.
Even still, he’s smiling. A gentle upturn that looks almost painful given the cracked fibers and dried blood.
“Hi,” you reply softly, feeling your heart race beneath your chest as his eyes find yours. “Would you like your usual?”
Somehow, his grin gets a bit brighter. As though he’s touched by the question. “Of course,” he answers calmly, in a voice you imagine you’d recognize anywhere. It’s deep and sultry, but it crackles like lightning. Sensual in a way you can’t exactly explain. “What have you made tonight?”
“Chocolate,” you tell him, glancing back toward the counter where the pies are displayed. “With extra whipped cream.”
“Mm.” His hum is playful, and it matches the glint in his eye. “How much extra?”
“As much as you want.”
He laughs, and you swear fairies are born. “Then I will have a slice of your chocolate pie, with as much whipped cream as you’ll allow.”
You feel your cheeks warm as you nod and turn on your heel to grab his order. Setting the coffee pot down before grabbing a small plate.
Once it’s ready, you return, sliding it across the table beside his mug. “Is that all?”
“No,” he says simply, gesturing now toward the seat across from him.
And just like every other time, you feel your pulse jump. “I’m…I need to get back—”
“You don’t need to go anywhere,” he interrupts with a wry grin. “Please?”
Your lips roll into your mouth, and your heart lands in your throat. Your stranger has always been good at getting you to do what he’d like, and it seems tonight is no different. 
So, with a sigh, you glance back toward the kitchen. Checking to make sure you aren’t needed too direly before you slip off your apron and slide into the booth.
“There,” he hums, placing his arms on the table to learn forward. “S’much better, hm?”
And you can’t help but smile as you nod and glance toward your cuticles. Avoiding that vivid green that always seems to send your stomach into a frenzy. 
“How are you?” he asks next, and his voice is soft, as if attempting to draw your attention back.
Braving a glance, you lift your head, and meet his eye. “I’m all right. How are you?”
“Good. Better now.”
The flirtatious remark sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. But you don’t respond, instead reaching out your hand toward his. Allowing your fingers to dance along the gauze that’s wrapped around his knuckles. 
“It’s bad again,” you whisper, and you feel him study you. 
There’s a gentle pause. And then, “Not by much. It’s been worse.”
You suck in a quiet breath and hold it deep within your lungs. Turning his arm around in order to inspect the wounds painted near his wrist. “You promised.”
Even without seeing the full of his face, you catch his expression fall. 
“I know, Cherry,” he murmurs. “And I’m trying, I promise. S’just…not that easy.”
Your throat constricts, growing dry from the implication. “I know.”
It’s almost inaudible, but your stranger still hears it, and he sighs as he slips his fingers between yours. Pulling your focus back to him. 
“You know you don’t have to worry about me,” he says, squeezing your palm as if to cement the point. “M’gonna be okay.”
“Are you?”
He looks gutted. Ashamed of your disappointment. “It’s just something that I have to do.”
“Why?”
He considers this before shaking his head once. “I don’t know.”
It’s the same answer every time. You ask him who does this to him. Why he does this to himself. Where he goes, why he keeps going back.
But he never offers anything concrete. Just enough to keep you hoping.
He leans closer. Desperate to make you understand. “I’m gonna be all right, Cherry. I promised, didn’t I?”
“But this isn’t ‘all right,’” you argue quietly, once again studying his scars. “You hurt yourself. Or you let somebody else hurt you. And I don’t know why.”
He takes in a breath before setting it free. “I don’t know why, either. But it’s not forever. And I promised you I would be okay. So, I will be.”
You release him and pull yourself from his grasp. Creating a physical distance much like his emotional one. 
“I have to be,” he adds, and that charming smirk reappears. Popping a dimple from his cheek. “I’d miss your pies too much.”
Even if your insides have twisted, you can’t help but laugh. “I suppose they’d miss you, too.”
“Good, I would hope. Might be my second-favorite sweet thing here. Only after you.”
Again, his coy remark leaves you entranced. Hands gathering on your lap as you look out through the large window beside you. “You’re quite forward tonight.”
“M’forward every night. You just don’t notice.”
“Is that right?”
“It is. Can’t really help myself, Cherry.”
The familiar nickname feels like home. It was coined after the first night he’d come in. He’d sat in your section – this very booth – and made small talk while you served him. 
He asked for your recommendation, and you suggested one of the desserts. The pies were your specialty, and you made a new one every evening. He seemed charmed by this and ordered two slices.
That night was cherry. He ate every bite between sips of his coffee and compliments to you. Leaving nothing but crumbs once you came to collect his plate.
He told you he loved cherry pie. It was his absolute favorite. But he’d never had a pie as good as yours.
And from that night on, you became his Cherry.
He never asked for your real name, and you never offered. You supposed this was intentional. A way to protect you from whatever life he led outside the diner doors.
And in the few weeks he’s been coming back for yet another slice of your pie, you’ve learned only three things about him:
He always pays with big bills.
He drives a vintage, black ’69 Mustang.
And his name is Harry.
Anything past that you suppose isn’t yours to know. Yet despite that, you feel drawn to your stranger. Even if he only seems to exist after midnight.
“You weren’t supposed to be working tonight,” he says, calling your attention back. 
You glance away from the window just in time to see his frown. “Joshua asked me to cover a few of his shifts,” you explain. “I’ll be here through the weekend.”
“You covered him last week,” he reminds you, with just a touch of disapproval. “And a few weekends before that.”
Your stranger is right, but you merely lift a shoulder and let it fall. “I don’t mind. The extra money is nice, and the night shift is always quiet.”
“Not always,” he retorts, and you notice the pull of his eyebrows. “Not everybody is as kind as you, Cher. Not in this part of town. Or this late.”
You can’t help but smile at his need to shelter you. “I know. But Owen is here, and he makes sure to check on me from time to time.”
However, Harry’s expression seems to settle into something hard and unnerved. “And what if he gets distracted? What if he doesn’t see some loser trying to grab for you? Or talk to you? Or take advantage of you?”
His voice is rising, a gentle but obvious crescendo that turns the heads of the few patrons scattered about the diner. 
You reach for his hand once more, squeezing it hard to implore him to listen. “Then I will use my extensive training as a waitress and kick their ass.”
You can tell he doesn’t want to, but he smiles. Brushing his thumb along your wrist before looking down. “I’m only trying to protect you.”
“I know,” you whisper, dipping down in order to find his eye. “But I’m not the one who needs protecting.”
The air is charged with a sort of tension you can’t explain. He feels so close and yet so very far away. Your heart aches for your stranger, and for his scars that never heal.
“Hey,” calls a loud voice, ringing through the small diner until you and Harry both turn. You find a man sitting near the counter, wearing a camouflage baseball hat and flannel shirt. His beard is long and scruffy, and his expression is wildly annoyed. “Do you fucking work here or not? Been waiting on a refill for ten goddamn minutes.”
Feeling rather embarrassed of the way you’ve neglected the other customers and deserted your post, you quickly slide out of the booth and stand. Cheeks warm and heart racing. “Yes, of course. I’m so sorry, sir.”
You rush to check on the coffee pot near the counter, making sure that it’s hot and fresh before you approach. Then, you tip the spout into his mug, and refill his drink that’s already three-fourths of the way full.
You can see Harry watching you from his spot. A similarly irritated look behind his eye as he studies the man sitting before you.
Once the coffee has been refilled, you nod an apology, and begin to retreat.
“Not so fast,” the customer grumbles, clearing his throat as he straightens up. Forcing you to hesitate. “I want my check. And a slice of pie on the house. For my troubles.”
Your heart leaps into your throat, but you nod again. The Starlight Diner doesn’t exactly offer free pastries, and anything that a staff member has to comp comes out of the employee’s paycheck. 
Granted, one slice won’t set you back too far, but the shame will. The idea that you left a customer waiting while you chatted with a man you hardly know. It’s unprofessional and not at all how you’d like to be perceived in the workplace. As a mindless girl who merely doddles her day away. Fawning over handsome strangers and daydreaming about a life she can’t have.
“Absolutely,” you tell him, rushing to grab him a fresh piece just as Harry begins to stand from the booth. “Will that be all?”
“Don’t be stingy with the whipped cream,” he instructs. “In fact, I’d like to see you put it on in front of me. So I can make sure you aren’t trying to fuck me over.”
The blood drains from your face. You feel humiliated under the warm hue of lights strung up around the restaurant. Grabbing the can of whipped topping in a desperate attempt to please and end the interaction all together.
“Why don’t you watch your fucking tone,” Harry grits, approaching the man from his left.
But the customer merely scoffs, refusing to offer him even a disinterested glance. “Yeah, and why don’t you mind your own business?”
Suddenly, Harry’s hand smacks down onto the counter beside him, inches from his plate while the coffee inside his mug trembles.
You can’t help but jump, arm recoiling away from the pie while the entire diner grows quiet. Everybody’s attention has turned to your stranger. Watching him closely as he leans forward, and dips down to catch the man’s eye.
“Wasn’t a question,” he murmurs darkly. “You watch your fucking tone when you speak to her. Or I’ll watch it for you.”
And you can tell the older gentleman is a bit off-put by Harry’s distressing demeanor. Yet he remains rather calm, clearing his throat again before leaning back. “And what are you gonna do about it, cupcake?”
Harry’s head cocks to the side. “Would you like me to show you?”
“Harry,” you whisper, just loud enough to force his eyes to yours. “It’s okay. It’s fine.”
“Yeah, she’s fine, buttercup,” the customer snorts, spinning around to face you once more. “Now let’s go, princess. I don’t have all fucking night.”
His fingers snap together before he points toward the pie. Instructing you to continue applying the fluffy cream until you hesitantly continue.
The whipped desert sprays out of the can in a steady stream, piling higher and higher atop the pie until it begins to spill over onto the side.
Yet he doesn’t stop you. He simply nods and mutters for you to keep going. To fill the plate until he’s satisfied. 
And you know exactly why he’s doing it. Not to satiate a sweet tooth but to demean you. To force you under his cruel, sadistic stare until you fold like a house of cards.
Your stranger fumes from his place a few feet away. You can tell he’s desperate to intervene, but he obeys your look of frantic insistence. Remaining quiet while you oblige the customer’s request. 
Soon, the can runs out. The last few drops spewing from the nozzle until you’re left with nothing but air and an empty bottle.
With a hitch in your breath, you begin to withdraw your hand. He’ll have to drop this degradation act now, and you hope that he only demands the rest of his check before going about his night.
However, before you can fully retract your arm, a collection of grimy fingers dart out and curl around your wrist. Keeping you in place while the man’s eyes narrow and he hisses, “Did I say you could stop?”
But the moment his palm touches your skin, Harry is stepping forward, grabbing a fistful of his collar, and hoisting him from his seat. Then, he shoves him back against the tile wall just behind him, the connection so forceful, it knocks the gentleman’s hat askew.
The other customers, including yourself, gasp from the sudden act of violence. Watching as Harry steps up to him and sneers in his face with the vilest look of disdain you imagine you’ve ever seen.
“Don’t ever…” he seethes through deep, even breaths, “…put your fucking hands on her…again.”
And he’s terrifying. So utterly terrifying, with his busted knuckles, his cracked lip, and his bruised jaw. It’s clear he’s a threat, and the man he’s holding goes deathly pale as Harry keeps him trapped against the wall.
All he can do is nod his understanding, choosing to end the fight before it can begin while Harry – after a very long moment – finally lets him go and allows him to flee from the diner.
There’s a stillness in the café that makes your heart race. The few regulars that are left watching on with a mixture of sympathy and embarrassment. It’s not until Harry shoots them their own venomous glare that they quickly turn away and continue on with their meals.
You slump into the counter, letting the can drop to your side while the sound of a door flinging open echoes from somewhere behind you.
“The hell…is going on?” Owen calls, exiting the kitchen in order to get a better look around. He finds you first, raking his stare up and down your frame before looking to Harry. “What happened?”
“You fucking left her out here, alone,” Harry barks. “That’s what fucking happened.”
Owen’s eyebrows raise as he moves his attention to you. But you quickly side-step into Harry’s path, attempting to end another confrontation before it can begin.
“Just…a customer,” you finally answer softly, reaching for the plate in order to clear your regret away. “It’s fine. He left.”
Your boss nods once. “But he paid first, yes?”
Again, your heart sinks into your toes. Lashes fluttering when you realize his bill will be coming out of your paycheck. “He…um, no, he…he left before I could collect it—”
“Darling,” Owen sighs, and it’s heavy with disappointment, “what did we talk about?”
“I…I know. I’ll…I’ll pay for it—"
Harry’s palm suddenly smacks down onto the counter for a second time this evening. Yet now, there’s a wad of cash beneath his hand. From the looks of it, well over a hundred dollars.
“This will cover it,” he mumbles, turning his unforgiving stare to your boss. “And it’ll cover the rest of her shift, too. She’s done.”
With that, his fingers are wrapping around your upper arm before you can even wrap your head around his offering. Blinking wildly while Owen glances from the cash to you in an effort to piece together Harry’s instruction.
 But your stranger leaves you no room for questioning or bargaining. He’s pulling you out the diner door and into the dark parking lot before you can even bid your boss goodbye.
He strides between the cars before hooking a left around the building. Leading you toward the back alleyway where he normally keeps his car, the wet pavement squeaking beneath his sneakers.
 And during this fervent stalking, his fingers slide down from your upper arm and into your hand. Grasping it tightly as if to make sure he won’t lose you.
Perhaps a part of you would like to feel miffed or ashamed of what just took place, but you can’t seem to fault him for his reaction. He’s always been nothing but kind to you – even if he doesn’t always lend that kindness to others. Expressing his desire to protect you, even if he doesn’t know you.
You wonder if this need to defend is part of the reason why you’ve only ever seen him covered in scars and bruises. If he comes to the diner in the dead of night in order to watch over you. Like a guardian angel or vigilante. 
Right now, however, he disappears into the shadows, gently pulling you along with him until you see his car only a few feet away. He releases you at the same time that he releases a heavy sigh, running a hand through his dark curls as his hood is pushed down. 
“Harry…” you begin quietly, tentative of startling him.
“I’m sorry,” he says before you can even finish. “M’sorry, I lost my temper. I know.”
You watch the way he turns away from you. Bracing himself against the hood of the Mustang while dropping his head in what you only assume is remorse.
And your heart aches for him. For the gentleman that lives beneath the outlaw. “Harry,” you whisper again, stepping closer in order run your fingers down his back. Feeling the way his muscles tense before melting beneath your touch. “I’m not mad, I promise.”
“I know you don’t like it when I interfere,” he mumbles, and it’s almost swept away by the cold, early morning air. “But he fucking touched you, and I—”
“I know,” you interrupt tenderly. “I know, and I’m not mad. I’m glad you did it. I’m glad you were here.”
He hesitates, face turning toward his shoulder. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You allow your chest to meet his spine. “Always feel safer with you.”
He exhales deeply, releasing something heavy before he’s turning around, and reaching for your cheeks. The soft, stained gauze slides against your skin, and his touch is firm. Keeping you in his embrace while he gazes at you warmly. 
“Are you all right, Cherry?” he asks now, thumbs sweeping beneath your eyes. “Did he hurt you?”
Your head shakes. “No. Scared me a little, but I’m okay.”
It’s clear he doesn’t like this, that familiar frown reforming as he holds you a bit tighter. “He never should have spoken to you like that. Much less put his fucking hands on you—”
“I know, but it’s okay,” you interject again, hoping to ease his stress. “I’m okay because you were here.”
And this is the only thing that seems to calm him. That familiar smile of his the perfect remedy for such a strange night. You don’t want to tell him how often this happens. Especially during the later shift. But that’s what you get for working at a 24-hour diner, and you’re starting to think this is merely part of the job.
And truth be told…you think he already knows.
His forehead meets yours, and you can’t help but grin yourself. Grateful for the comfort he provides – stranger or not.
“Speaking of which…why are you here?” you ask gingerly. “I thought you didn’t come in on my days off?”
“I don’t. But…I saw your car.”
“Oh…how?”
His smirk transforms into something coy. “I was driving by.”
“Oh, really?” you tease. “On purpose?”
The smile slips now, a more reverent look in his eye as he nods. “I like to check on you. Make sure you’re okay.”
And maybe in any other universe, this would strike you as odd. Perhaps even unsettling or disconcerting. 
But even if you don’t know him, you know him. You know his intentions have only ever been pure, and even without having much more than his name, he has always made you feel safe. 
You choose to believe in him. In the goodness of your stranger and the care he provides. Inside and out.
“You do?” you murmur, allowing your hands to rest on his chest. “How often?”
A beat. Then, “…every night.”
The alley grows quiet. Scattered streetlamps reflect off the pools of water that are sprinkled across the cement, warming the dark night with their sepia-toned beams.
And you stand there, just you and him, while the weight of the world seems to rest on his shoulders.
But instead of chastising him or asking any further questions, you push yourself up onto your tiptoes…and kiss him.
It’s not the first kiss you’ve shared, and you know, undoubtedly, that it won’t be your last. Your stranger has been stealing your kisses for weeks now.
And you suppose stealing isn’t exactly a fair comparison. After all, you’ve nearly pleaded with him to kiss you every time he’s come in. 
Not that there’s much need for begging when he’s so willing to offer them to you. Sneaking you away the moment your shift is through. Chasing you through the parking lot…pulling you into the backseat of his car.
It makes you giddy. You feel like a schoolgirl with a crush on the handsome senior. Slipping into the shadows where he waits. Letting him hold you, kiss you, touch you.
It doesn’t matter if you don’t know more than his name or what he does behind closed doors. You choose to share these special – albeit somewhat scandalous – moments with the mysterious gentleman in booth 505.
“My sweet girl,” he breathes against your lips. The wonderfully delicious nickname melting on your tongue. “Missed you.”
You want to remind him that it’s only been about two days, but you can’t. Because you missed him, too.
“And m’so sorry,” he says next, trailing his quick but fervent kisses down your neck. “So fucking sorry for being so bad. Never wanna scare you or make you anxious.”
A soft, delicate noise bleeds from your throat, and you cling to his much stronger frame as though you’re afraid you’ll simply disappear without him.
“Wanna make it up to you,” he whispers. “Will you let me, Cherry? Let me be good again?”
You nod, needing him to keep himself as close to you as he’ll allow. You want to settle him in your lungs, keep him snug inside in your chest. Against your heart.
And a large part of you just wants to keep him…always.
“Let me make it better,” he says, hands dropping to your hips in order to push you toward his car. Placing you against the door in order to trap you and deepen his kiss. “Let me be good, sweet girl. Be good for you.”
And he’s always good. Good to you, good for you. It doesn’t matter how he is with everybody else. 
“Please?” he asks again, leaning back just far enough to catch your eye. “Will you let me?”
He wants your explicit consent. Wants you to say the words before he continues, and you appreciate this stricter habit. 
“Yes,” you manage to answer, exhaling the word with the little strength you still possess. “Yes, please—”
He takes your hand before you can finish, guiding you over toward the backseat before swinging the door open and stepping aside.
“Lay down, baby,” he mumbles gently, pressing a kiss to the side of your head while guiding you in. “On your back, okay? Want you comfy.”
You do as instructed, dipping down into the vehicle before settling into the soft, leather seat. Flipping over until you can find a position you like. 
Harry is quick to follow, landing between your thighs before pulling the door shut. You both maneuver until he can hover his body above yours, keeping you beneath him as he runs a palm up the side of your leg.
His warm hand feels good against your bare skin, the dress you’re required to wear as part of your waitressing uniform bunching just at the top of your knees from the new position. But it’s like ecstasy, heating up your goose bumped skin from the nippy air outside. 
“How’s this, hm?” He squeezes your hip. “You all right, Cher?”
You rest your head against the door and nod, fingers already itching to reach for him again. “Yes, I’m okay.”
“Promise?”
“Mhm. Promise.”
The side of his mouth curls up, and it makes your stomach flutter. “Good girl. Gonna go slow, okay? Earn my forgiveness.”
He continues the lazy strokes to your thigh, falling all the way down to your ankle before going back up. It is slow, and it almost drives you mad. Because he knows what you want. And he knows just how badly you want it.
Things with Harry never go further than you. Something you’re almost tempted to find odd, but he’s a giver. That was made clear from the first time. He derives more pleasure out of your orgasms than he apparently does his own. He only ever wants to touch you, taste you, feel you. It’s never about him. 
You often wonder if there’s a deeper reason for this. If he’s denying himself release on purpose or if he’s merely terrified of getting close. And occasionally you wonder if he simply just doesn’t want to fuck you, but something tells you that’s not the case.
Maybe one day you’ll be brave enough to ask.
Tonight, however, it seems he’s still determined to put the attention on you. Long fingers gently scratching at your leg until you shiver. It makes him grin.
“Can I see you, baby?” he asks softly, letting his eyes trail beneath the hem of your dress. “See how pretty you are?”
Again, you can only whine pitifully as you motion your head up and down quickly. Wanting to succumb to his strong touch. Only feeling grounded if he’s there to hold you.
“Thank you, sweet girl,” he breathes, using his scarred hands to push your outfit up a bit higher. Revealing your quivering stomach and the delicate pair of panties around your hips. 
They’re nothing special. In fact, you imagine they’re rather embarrassing. A simple, tan fabric that does absolutely nothing to make your pussy look more desirable. 
Perhaps it’s a little silly, but you like to look nice for him. On the nights you know he might be coming to see you (which has been every night you’ve worked since you met), you tend to pick prettier pairs. 
Some with lace, some with little bows. Sweeter colors, sexier colors. Anything that might make him smile.
But you hadn’t anticipated seeing him tonight, and now, you almost want to shy away. Lashes fluttering as you look up toward the roof of his car.
But he doesn’t seem to notice. Nor does he seem to care about the color around your waist, his eyes growing wide as his attention glues to the mesmeric sight before him. Pink, bruised lips parting with wonder while he moves closer. 
“Cherry,” he exhales, the feel of his breath sweeping against your bent knee, “missed you so much. Been forever, hm?”
You nod again, braving another glance just in time to see his hand lower. And then you feel him. Feel his thumb pressing gently into the front of your underwear, just above where your clit lies.
Your entire body seems to spark to life like the flicker of a flame. And you gasp, subtly bucking up into his touch in search of more. In search of him.
He smiles. “S’it feel good, honey?”
You let out a soft breath, chest nearly caving in as you whisper, “Harry…”
He looks up, eyes flicking to yours as that coy smirk grows. “What, baby? You okay?”
Of course you’re okay. He knows you’re okay, but you’ve noticed he likes to hear you say it. He likes to know he’s making it better for you. That he’s helping, that he’s doing good.
When you don’t answer, he returns to your pussy, fingers strumming up and down your covered cunt like he’s playing an instrument. Tuning your body to his needs. 
“Can I touch you?” he asks now, dipping down to nudge his nose beneath your jaw. Pressing a soft kiss to your throat. “Wanna touch you…be good for you, Cher. Was so bad…just wanna make it better.”
He’s attempting to atone for what he did in the diner. To apologize, offer his remorse.
And even if you know he has nothing to apologize for, you can’t find it in you to deny him. Reaching up to tangle your fingers in his curls as you tug him closer. Kissing him fiercely.
He’s hard on himself. You know he is. You don’t know why. You don’t know what the cause is. But you can see the repercussions. They’re painted all over his body, and he wears them proudly. 
He curses against your mouth, and you’re reminded then of his busted lip. Instantly pulling away while you mumble an apologetic, “I’m sorry. I forgot—”
“No,” he nearly groans, slipping his other hand around the back of your neck to keep you close. “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind, I promise. I like it.”
His kisses become hard again. Anxious, desperate, and rushed. As though he needs you in order to survive. His nose knocking into yours from the way he readjusts himself. Wanting to take you deeper, really taste you. 
You’ve never been so happy in your life.
He only pulls away in order to slip your panties down your thighs, pushing them to your ankles until he can really see you.
His entire expression softens the moment his eyes find you. Filled with a certain kind of hope and indulgence as he gazes at you almost tenderly. Unable to resist reaching out and letting his finger brush down your folds. 
You make another noise, but he doesn’t notice this one. Too content to be touching you. Feeling you. Spreading you open just to watch you drip.
“So fucking good to me,” he murmurs. “You know that, sweet girl? So perfect for me. Exactly what I need and far more than I deserve.”
You aren’t sure what he means, but the implication makes you frown. Pulling on his hair a bit harder while he moves to your clit and begins to press down.
The pressure of his thumb against the more sensitive nerves leaves you breathless. Squirming beneath him from the rush of pleasure that only serves in making you needier. 
“Always so warm,” he muses quietly. Almost as if to himself. “So soft. So sweet. Can’t ever get enough of you.”
It makes your head spin the way he seems to adore you. The way he talks about your body as if he can’t believe he’s lucky enough to behold it. To feel it, to get to indulge in it. Worshiping you like you’re his religion.
He begins to rub your clit in slow, teasing circles. Kissing you once more in order to taste your whines and feed off your desperation. Wet noises fill the car. Not just from your pussy, but from his frantic kisses that echo between the foggy windows. 
It makes you shiver, loving the way he nips at your bottom lip just to leave you restless. The way he whispers your nickname before moving to your neck, pulling your skin between his teeth and smoothing over the mark with his tongue.
He goes faster. Chasing after your whimpers and the way you arch your body into his. Loving how excitable you get from only a few flicks of his thumb across your sensitive clit.
Then, he slows down. Exhaling a heavy breath as if bracing himself to edge you. Like it hurts him more than it hurts you.
And you mewl pitifully as you cling to his broader frame and tug him down into your arms. “Harry—”
“I know,” he coos, and it’s gentle the way he speaks. Sympathetic almost. “I know, sweet girl. But m’not done with you yet. Just wanna keep you a little longer. Is that okay?”
You bury your face in his neck and make another noise. Something akin to his name that gets lost in the way he curses.
“It’s okay,” he tries again, allowing you to use his body like a lifeline. “I’ve got you, baby. All right? M’right here, I’ve got you.”
He proves this by resuming his sweet torture. Circling the nerves a time or two more before moving down. Smoothing through your folds and lowering toward the pooling of arousal that waits for him. 
You hear him hum. “So precious. S’this all for me, then? Mine to play with? Mine to taste?”
You whine, “Yes, yes, yes,” as quickly as your mouth will permit, and he chuckles. 
The tip of his finger dips inside, presumably to collect everything you have to offer him before he’s lifting it toward his lips.
And you settle back against the door to watch. Enchanted by the way he places you on his tongue and sucks. His lashes fluttering and cheeks flushing from the taste.
You don’t imagine you’ll ever get used to watching him do that. After all, you’ve never been particularly…unbothered by the idea of somebody tasting you. Not even with past partners. You get too caught up in your own head. Worried about the taste, the feel, the smell.
Truth be told, most of the men you’ve been with before were never interested in you. They wanted what you could give them. And then they wanted out.
By all accounts, Harry is nothing like anyone else you’ve ever known. Not just because of the mystery that follows his persona, but because of his endless attention to you. To what you need, what makes you feel good. 
He devotes every second to making you feel like you’re God’s gift to Earth. A gift to him. Praising you for simply existing. Indulging in your taste as though you're the sweetest dessert he’s ever had.
Like now, while a deep moan reverberates from the depths of his chest. Filling the car and your ears like music, making your thighs clench around his hips.  
“S’why I call you my sweet girl, you know that?” he murmurs, sucking on his fingers until you’re sure there’s nothing left. And even then some. “So fucking sweet for me. Can’t ever get enough. Gonna get me addicted, baby. Might already have.”
The moment he takes his hand back out, you’re lifting up, and pressing your mouth to his. And you don’t even care if you can taste yourself on his tongue because all you really taste is him.
But the mixture of him, and you, and the slight tang of blood from the busted fibers of his lip is euphoric. Strange but lovely in a way you hadn’t anticipated. 
He seems to understand this despondency, growing a bit more frantic in his need to please. No longer focused on edging as he drops his fingers back to your cunt while his other hand moves for the buttons on your chest.
He pops them free one by one until your equally plain bra is revealed to him. But again, he doesn’t take notice of such things. Instead swallowing thickly at the sight of your breasts that swell behind the cups.
He kisses you again. And again, and again. Then he moves to your cheek and down your neck. Trailing his tongue toward your collarbone and along your sternum. 
You feel restless. Waiting for something – for him. You already know how magical his touch is. You already know the kind of pleasure he provides, and it nearly drives you mad to simply sit in anticipation. Stuck on his time.
Eventually he reaches your chest, lips moving for the curve of your tit before he’s making another noise and sucking into the tender flesh. Nipping at it, pulling it between hungry teeth. Smoothing over the marks with the warmth of his mouth while you reel.
Your hands disappear back into his hair. Stroking the curls almost fondly, nails lightly scratching at his scalp.
He’s always seemed to enjoy this. Instructing that you pull on him as hard as you’d like. That you tug and scratch. That you use him to inflict your pain and your pleasure. That you think of him first and foremost.   
Now is no different. He nuzzles himself further into your breasts while simultaneously sighing with contentment at the way your hand feels against his head. The way you keep him close to your heart. 
You’d keep him forever if you could.
You hardly even notice the way his finger has slipped inside. The way it strokes your delicate walls that flutter from the intrusion, tensing before relaxing in order to allow him in.
“There,” he whispers, pleased with the way your body obeys him. “S’okay. Gonna make it better. I promise.”
And you know he will.
“So tight today, baby,” he says, leaving another kiss to the swell of your chest. Open-mouthed and messy. “Has it been that long?”
You don’t know. You can’t remember the last time he touched you, although you’re almost sure it hasn’t been more than a week. The two of you have become rather insatiable for each other. Chasing after a kind of release you only seem to find within the hands of the other.
Those beautiful green eyes flitter up to yours, studying you closely. Benevolently. “Have you not been taking care of yourself, sweet girl?”
You take a moment to consider what he means before you feel your cheeks warm. Offering him nothing more than a quick shake of your head.
He frowns, brows pulling together. “Why not, hm? Thought you promised you’d try for me. Help make things better when I’m not around.”
You shrug, growing a touch embarrassed. “I know, but…it’s not the same. Don’t like it.”
“Is that right?”
Another shake. “Get bored.”
“Bored,’ he repeats, and there’s a certain glint in his eye. But instead of disappointed, he seems empathetic. “Cause it’s not the same, yeah? Your fingers too small?”
Now you nod, making a noise of agreement. 
He nods along with you, beginning to smirk. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Bet it’s just so frustrating, isn’t it? Trying to find all your sweet, little spots, but just not quite being able to reach?”
You cling to him as he stretches you a bit further. Doing everything you can’t do for yourself. Effortlessly curling his finger into that one spot until you begin to shake.
“Just like that, hm?” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to your collarbone. “S’that what you can’t find, baby? S’that what’s so achy?”
And it is. It’s so infuriatingly sore that it almost makes you cry. Wishing you could chase after that feeling until your heart gives out. 
“I bet.” More kisses to your chest. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna fix it, okay? Make it all better again.”
“Please?” you whimper, nails scratching down his broad back. Attempting to pull him closer. 
“Mhm.” He leans forward and brings his lips to yours now. His kiss quick but full of promise. “Always gonna take care of you.”
He begins to thrust the longer digit in and out. Slow enough to work you up but fast enough to leave you wanting more. Coaxing the muscles open before bringing a second finger into play.
The sounds of your wetness being pushed and pulled by his hand are sinful. Sending a chill down your spine and directly into your cunt.
You moan when you feel them, writhing a bit beneath his body until he has to press his leg into yours to keep you still.
“Shh, it’s okay,” he mumbles. Leaving another kiss below your jaw. “Know you can take it, baby. You always do. Don’t you?”
And even if that’s true, you aren’t opposed to the slight sting. Instead invigorated by it and the way he uses great care with you. Wanting to make sure you’re all right so he can please you the way he wants.
Yet somehow, it’s still not enough. Even with the way he curls, and pumps, and thrusts those beautiful digits into your pussy, you feel empty. Barely scratching the surface of that itch as he presses his chest to yours to calm you.
Your noises are becoming more pathetic. Your entire being heaving with the weight of promised pleasure in a way you can’t seem to understand.
His thumb presses into your clit every few minutes, attempting to guide you closer to your release, and it works. The combination making your stomach coil until you nearly see stars. Every cell in your body tightening.
“You close, Cherry?” His free hand moves for your face. Palm pressing into your jaw as the bandage on his knuckles sweeps across your cheek. “Hm? You gonna cum for me?”
And you are. You are, you are. You can almost taste it. Can feel it bubbling up from between your thighs, ready to unravel like the seams on your favorite sweater. 
“Yes,” you gasp, arching from the leather seat. “Yes, please…please don’t stop. Please—”
“Won’t stop,” he promises in a soothing tone, lips ghosting atop yours. “Never stop, I promise. M’gonna be right here until you do, okay? Go ahead. I’ve got you.”
And this is all you need. It happens suddenly and yet far too slowly. Pulling you apart from the inside out. 
You moan so loud, your chest shakes. Eyes rolling back and nails scratching down his spine as it hits you. 
Instantly, he moves his hand from your jaw to your lips. Palm pressing hard against your mouth in order to silence you as he whispers, “Shh, baby. Gotta be quiet for me, okay? It’s okay, you’re all right. Just let go—"
And you do. Allow your body to deplete itself of all energy as he works you through every goddamn second. Dragging it out as far as it’ll go. Increasing the speed of his flicks and thrusts. Pumping your orgasm out of you until it sits in his waiting hand.
“Good,” he breathes before finally removing his hand in order to kiss you quickly. Fingers squeezing the back of your neck as he brings you closer. “So fucking good, there you go. S’okay. Keep going, come on.”
And it’s so good, so wonderful. You feel like you’re floating, high up into the clouds. You decide then that he must be an angel, carrying you in his wings and setting you on a sunset.
But you’re still squirming, seemingly discontented, and he notices far too easily. “You okay, Cher?”
“More,” you whisper faintly. “More…please…”
“More,” he echoes. “My sweet girl wants more. More what, hm? What do you need?”
“More,” is all you say. Once again wiggling your hips down as if to sink his fingers in further. “More, Harry, please.”
“Oh. You want another one. Is that it?”
You nod silently, too strung-out to think in coherent sentences.
He chuckles again, kissing your other cheek before pinching your chin. “All right. Give you as many as you want, baby.”
Feeling incredibly grateful, you allow your trembling limbs to fall slack. Once again settling beneath him as he works to get you to your second.
But even as he resumes the languid but practiced thrusts of his fingers, you feel unsatiated. Eager for something else, but you aren’t sure what.
He realizes before you do. “S’not enough, is it?” he coos. “Need something bigger, don’t you?” 
That’s what it is, and you nod eagerly as your nails scratch down the sleeves of his hoodie. 
“Think you can take something bigger? Think you can take another finger, baby?”
Another nod. Faster, more fervent. Eyes pleading with him to give you anything he has to offer.
He obliges this, glancing down before lining his fingers up, and slowly slipping all three inside.
This stretch is a bit more prominent. He’s deliberately gentle, never giving you more than he assumes you can handle. 
And he watches you closely. Searching for any grimaces or winces of discomfort. 
When he finds none, he seems relieved, kissing up from your chest to your throat once more. “Good girl. There you go.”
You begin to writhe a little more ardently until he has to bring his other hand to your knee in order to press it down into the seat. Keeping you spread and still until you settle.
“Easy,” he coos gently, placing some of his weight onto your thigh. “Gonna have to be good, baby, and relax for me. Let me make you feel good, okay?”
You want to obey. You do, really. But the overstimulation and sensitivity from your first orgasm is almost too much. Making you choke on the heated air until you can hardly breathe.
“Like it when I take care of you, don’t you?” he asks you now. Licking a stripe along your jaw. “Like it when I steal you away from them?”
He’s right, you do. Perhaps you shouldn’t, but there’s something about the way he makes you feel as though you deserve more than this. As though you’re meant for more than the diner. He makes you feel invincible.
“Maybe one day I’ll take you away,” he decides. “Fucking take you from them and make you mine. Forever. For always.”
And you decide you like the sound of that.
Another moment of his strenuous torture passes before he leans back to watch. And you notice something in his face. Utter fascination and lust over the way your body bends to his will. Over the way it stretches around his fingers, the way he pulls it open.
He releases a deep, coarse groan through clenched teeth. Fixated on the way his fingers disappear into your pussy. “Taking me so well, baby. Know you’d take my cock, too, wouldn’t you?”
You whimper miserably, undone by the thought. You can’t deny that you’ve wondered what he’d feel like. All of him, stretching you open. Fucking into you while leaving you a panting mess.
You often imagine what he’s like in bed. In an actual bed and not in the backseat of his car or yours. What he might be like when he’s truly lost himself to the pleasure. Guiding his hips to yours, bending you into a hundred and one positions meant just for his indulgence. 
You wonder if he’d be just as careful as he is now. Just as devoted to you. If he’d be hard and fast or soft and slow. If he has dirty kinks, secret fantasies. If he likes the lights on or off. If he likes the bed or if he likes it up against the wall. 
You hope one day you get to find out. 
“Think you would, yeah?” he continues, sliding his digits all the way to the knuckle. The fibers of the gauze brushing against your clit. “Know you would. Be so good for me. This sweet little pussy would treat me so well, wouldn’t it?”
You nod quickly, pouting at him anxiously.
“I know,” he tuts, finally leaning back over to kiss you again. “Know you’d be such a good girl for me. Let me work you open until you could fit me…let me stretch you just right.”
You reach out for his wrist in search of something to squeeze, and it makes him chuckle. Teeth sinking into your bottom lip until you moan.
“Might take a while,” he muses. “Might take hours. Days. I’ll have to just keep you in my bed until you can fit me, hm?”
He attempts to pull away, but you chase after him. Looping an arm around his neck in order to yank him back to you. 
His smirk feels good against your lips. “M’not going anywhere, sweet girl. Just like to watch you. Bet it’d be fun to watch you take my cock, wouldn’t it? Watch it sink right into this tight little hole.”
He’s evil. Absolutely sadistic and it makes you groan against his tongue until he has to soothe you.
“I know, baby. One day,” he breathes. “I promise. M’gonna take you away and do it right. Make it worth it.”
The thrusting of his fingers becomes more poignant. Enough to drive a plethora of desperate moans from your chest as he nuzzles his nose below your jaw and simply breathes.
“Gonna worship you. Give you everything you deserve.” He sucks in a quiet inhale before dancing his lips along your throat. “Have you sit on my face until I can’t breathe.”
The image has your eyes rolling back. Even if you aren’t sure you’d ever feel comfortable doing so, you’re enamored by the idea. Of the thought of him holding onto your thighs, pressing you down to his mouth. Completely controlling you. 
“Can never breathe when I’m with you, anyway,” he whispers, and you almost don’t catch it. You wonder if you were meant to. “M’gonna do it right, sweet girl. I promise.”
And this is the vow that pulls you through to the other side. Large digits curling up into that one spot that makes your legs shake and you’re falling apart for the second time.
But he still doesn’t stop. Stroking, pressing, pumping even after the tears have begun to slip from your eye. 
“Keep going, there you go. Does it feel good? Feel so good, cumming all over my hand?”
And it does, but you can’t exactly answer. Can’t seem to do anything but cry out as you ride the wave and his fingers as though your life depends on it.
“Doing so good,” he murmurs gently, raising up to kiss you once more. Swallowing your pitiful mewling. “So fucking good, baby. M’so proud of you. Took me so well. So beautiful when you cum, Cherry, you know that? Could watch you forever.”
The sentiment makes your entire body grow warm. You’ve always wondered what you might look like when you orgasm, and truth be told, you imagine it’s not very pretty.
But to hear him say it now – so earnestly – makes your stomach wrench. Nails curling into the seat below as you lift off the leather and knock your chest into his.
He holds you as tight as he can before slowly pulling his fingers out. Relieving you from the overstimulation before putting you back in his mouth. Sucking until a string of saliva drips down his into the gauze on his knuckles. Painting it a much prettier picture than the red has.
After swelling every drop of you with a lewd groan, he finally pulls his hand out, and takes you into his arms. Kissing you through the remnants of the blissful rush.
“So good,” he says again, face burying back into your neck while stroking your thigh with his soaked fingers. “Always make me so proud.”
Your limbs tangle with his as you both slouch into the backseat. Allowing your heart beats to synchronize into one, steady rhythm. 
And once they have, you begin to grin. “Harry?”
“Mm?”
“Thank you.”
He exhales a soft laugh before leaning back onto his knees to get a good look at you. “What for, sweet girl?”
“Just for…this, I suppose,” you mumble shyly. “For all of it. Tonight. Standing up for me and…you know, this part.”
His chuckle becomes a bit more smug. “Are you thanking me for making you cum?”
“I’m…trying. I think.”
“Hm.” His grin is playful and so damn charming as he dips back down to hover his lips near yours. “Don’t have to thank me, Cherry. Believe me. It’s my pleasure.”
His teasing remark makes you giggle, and you kiss him hard before he has the chance to leave you again.
You kiss for a while. A long while. Until you can hardly breathe, your muscles beginning to ache and your eyelids beginning to grow heavy from the lack of sleep in this early morning hour. 
It’s not until you actually yawn that Harry finally remembers to pull himself away and reach for the panties around your ankles. “Shit, it’s late, isn’t it? Know I’ve kept you longer than I should have.”
With a quick shake of your head, you push up onto your elbows. “No. I’m fine, I promise. Just…cumming makes me sleepy, I guess. And you’re so warm. It’s nice.”
This makes him smile again, and that dimple of his makes your heart ache. “You know I’d keep you in this car until the sun came up if I could.”
“I know.” Your fingers outstretch for his hoodie, tangling into the material on his stomach while he guides your underwear back up around your hips. “Maybe one day, yeah?”
His expression softens, and you almost swear you see a flash of sadness behind that sage green. “Yeah. Maybe.”
It’s quiet as you rebutton your dress and pull the hem back down. And even quieter as Harry opens the door and slips out of the car, extending his hand toward you in order to help you out as well.
But once you’ve straightened up and turned to face him, you see that something has changed. A look of longing that hadn’t been there before etched between those scarred features.
His thumb brushes just beneath your eye and then down to your lips. Tracing the lines and dips before he sighs and cradles your cheek in his palm. “Are you gonna be all right?”
You place your hand over his and squeeze. “Are you?”
Another deep breath. Heavier and more forlorn. “You know I’ll try.”
“Promise?”
His forehead meets yours, and you both still. “I promise.”
And you choose to believe him.
You say goodbye, and regretfully let him go. Shaky legs carrying you back to your car as his eyes follow you all the way. Making sure you get there safely before you take off down the road and leave him behind.
A few nights later, you’re back for your next shift. And truth be told, you’re almost excited. Because having to go so long without him feels like a form of punishment. Like your days aren’t nearly as bright without him. And neither are your nights.
You can’t help but count the seconds as you go about your evening. Unable to distract yourself with the pastries no matter how hard you try. Thoughts drifting back to those chocolate curls and that devilish smile.
When midnight strikes, you feel relieved. Releasing a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding as you grab your notepad and slip out of the kitchen. Ready to greet him in his favorite booth.
But the moment you slip past the door, you find that the diner is empty. Not a single customer to greet you as you scan the floor in search of that familiar face. Even a glimpse of his shoes or the sound of his voice.
But the booth is empty, the diner is quiet, and it’s 12:06. 
Your stranger isn’t here.
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I know not too much has happened yet but we are building up to tons more smut and plot and angst and fluff, I swear!! 😭💞
Next Part:
~ Whiplash*
~ Main Masterlist
~ Blurb Masterlist
Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞
Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @lovebittenbyevans @caynonmoondreams @amberbambridge
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cupid-styles · 24 days
Text
daisy 2 (english profrry x quiet TA!yn)
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she's alive and I hope you like it 🩷 I think there will be a short epilogue wrapping everything up after this :)
part one
word count: 7.9k
content warnings: a bit of angst (nothing too crazy), smut (f receiving oral, penetration, size kink/belly bulge, dirty talk, a tiny bit of cum play), and — as stated in the first part — massive, big fat warning for an inappropriate power imbalance.
main masterlist | talk to me
. . .
Y/N had tried to talk herself out of it. Several times, actually. For hours. 
But at a certain point, she realized all she was doing was driving herself insane with a nonstop, hamster wheel of thinking. She couldn’t stop replaying the conversation with Professor Styles — or Harry, rather, as he’d said earlier — over and over, nitpicking at every tiny detail. She wished she had someone to go to — an unbiased, neutral third party who wouldn’t tell her what she wanted to hear, but she doubted that even if she did have that, they’d think her analysis of their discussion would be appropriate.
Because she had a huge, obvious, stupid crush on her professor. 
Well, he wasn’t technically her professor. She was just the professor she was… assisting, and that technicality is the only thing that gave her enough courage to bundle up beneath layers of thermal wear and her forest green puffer jacket, hiking through the chilly winter evening to see if, by some miracle, Harry was still in his office. 
On the way there, she spoke to herself sternly. She needed to have a goal in mind — an intention, really, of what exactly she was going there for. It wasn’t a normal thing to go see a professor in his office on a Monday at 6:40 pm.
It wasn’t normal to think about his grumpy face and even crankier demeanor; the way his lips pursed thoughtfully around wordy responses about a student’s answer to an essay question, or his long, calloused fingers that wrapped around the same gel ink pens he always used for grading.
It wasn’t normal for her to fall asleep imagining herself pressing her own plush lips to the same ones that nearly begged for an apology just a few hours ago.
And it certainly wasn’t normal for her professor to admit that he’d spent the weekend thinking of her, either.
The English building stays unlocked until around 9 pm on weekdays, just in case professors end up hauling their grading into late nights or students have group projects. She hurries through the wooden doors as soon as she arrives, hurriedly yanking her mittens off and stuffing them in her coat pockets as she walks the familiar journey down to Harry’s office. She’s unsurprised that most of the offices and classrooms have already gone dim, but the closer she gets to Harry’s, the sooner she realizes that his is the exception. With the bleak, yellowed light from the lamp she’d picked out a few weeks back, she sees a faint luminance from his office’s frosted window. Swallowing, she decides against her better judgment before waltzing in like she owns the place, and instead opts for a hesitant knock, punctuating it with a call of his name. 
“Profess— Harry? Are you in there?” she nibbles on her lip before tacking on a, "It's Y/N."
She hopes he recognizes her voice as she wrings her fingers together in front of her. She thinks she hears muffled movement on the other side of the door, but she’s not entirely sure. It never occurred to her that perhaps he wouldn’t want to see her — maybe he’d peek through the crack of the door, see her face, and widen his own eyes in shock and embarrassment, maintaining silence until she eventually gave up and walked away. Her throat bobs nervously at the imagery. 
She’s ready to give up when the door swings open, revealing a rather flushed looking version of the typically neat, well-kept professor she’s used to seeing. His cheeks don a splotchy pink hue that speckles down to his neck, where his usual button down is currently undone. Underneath, he wears a plain white tee-shirt. She blinks at the small display of intimacy before snapping her eyes back up to his face. He’s running his finger through his messy curls, tugging lightly at the base of the locks.
“Is everything alright?” he asks through a slightly nervous voice. With furrowed eyebrows, she nods her head slowly.
“Yes— well, no, I guess. I feel bad about earlier.”
She chokes the words out in hopes that she can keep her humiliation at bay. She’s unsure if her eyes deceive her, but it seems as though his face relaxes some before he quickly nods, stepping aside to let her in. 
“Um, you have nothing to feel bad about,” he says, shutting the door quietly behind her. She shrugs her shoulders as she stands in the middle of his small office, avoiding his gaze. “I was out of line, Y/N.”
“What did you mean by it?” she rushes out, facing him with a leery expression. “That you spent the weekend thinking of me. And feeling awful about how you’ve treated me.”
His mouth opens and closes, and she can’t help the way she glances down at his raspberry-hued lips. She swallows tightly, biting on her own bottom lip.
“This isn’t something we can do,” he mumbles out breathily with a shake of his head. “You know that, right?”
They’re dancing around the obvious. Her stomach lurches at the low, groveled volume of his voice, and her fingers twitch at her sides as she resists the urge to step closer to him. She’s never been forward with a romantic interest before — she’s never had a reason to be, to uphold a certain level of confidence. 
But she can’t help herself. 
“Tell me, then. Tell me what you thought of this weekend.”
Harry’s nostrils flare. 
“If it’s not something we can do,” Y/N says softly, licking over her lips, “Then whatever you thought about should be nothing, right?”
He’s torn. He’s so utterly torn that it feels like his brain is being split in half. He knows what he should do — he should tell her she’s wrong and that she should leave. He should leave this entire situation behind him, chalk it up to him being a touch-deprived idiot, and move on with his life. Join a few dating apps and find someone decent to settle down with. 
But why would he do what he’s supposed to do?
“I thought about how fucking shitty I felt for ignoring you for weeks after you told me you just wanted my praise,” Harry blurts, heart hammering in his chest as he slowly starts to close the gap between their bodies. “I thought about how much I like having you around — how smart and talented you are, how beautiful and creative your brain is.”
“I’m not—”
“I’m not finished,” he replies curtly, making Y/N’s eyebrows shoot up to her forehead. “I thought about how pretty you are. I thought about how I’m thankful to have you as my assistant, because no one has ever been able to meet me on the same level. I thought about… how I’d be taking advantage of you if I told you any of those things, so I promised that I’d keep them to myself.”
He’s standing directly before her now. He’s so close that she can smell the warm musk of his cologne and see the freckles dotted over his nose. It makes her stomach churn in the best way. 
“Why didn’t you?” she finally breathes out. 
A smirk forms at the edges of his lips. He looks down at her as if he wants to swallow her whole, and she’s not sure that she doesn’t want him to. 
“You asked me to tell you, sweetheart,” he murmurs. He reaches out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and her skin zips with electricity. “‘S not much of my fault now, is it?”
Quickly, she shakes her head. She swallows nervously and hopes he doesn’t notice her picking at her nails as she waits for him to surge forward and press a messy kiss to her lips. 
But instead, he stops. 
A look of clarity ghosts over his face and his throat bobs. It doesn’t stop him from thumbing over her chin with sorrowed eyes. 
“We’ll wait until the end of the semester,” he murmurs out. The look of disappointment on Y/N’s face must be obvious because his eyebrows furrow in dejection. “It’s the safest way, okay? After that… after that, I’m yours.”
I’m yours. It echoes through her brain, making her heart thump rapidly in her chest. She feels it everywhere, but the hesitancy remains. 
“Promise me,” she whispers, pressing a wary hand to the expanse of his chest. “Promise me I’m not wasting my time. Promise me that you mean this.”
He can’t help it — before he can even contemplate the consequences, he ducks down to connect their lips. It takes her by surprise but she immediately kisses him back, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck to pull him closer.
Despite the reluctant context, the physical bond is anything but. Harry kisses her unhurriedly, like he has years to worship every bit of her lips. He dips his tongue into her mouth the second she grants him the opportunity, and her chest feels like it’s ready to explode when he squeezes her hip. His large palm easily finds its way to her ass and she whimpers breathily into the seal of his mouth. It’s the only thing that brings him back down to earth — a reminder that he’s no longer daydreaming but experiencing the real thing. He forces himself to break the kiss but leans his forehead against hers, keeping his eyes shuttered closed.
“I promise you,” he exhales, and he feels her nod. “I’m yours.”
. . .
Attempting to act normal around Harry is harder than Y/N had anticipated. 
In hindsight, the evening consisted of a half-assed confession and a rather… intimate kiss that nearly knocked her off her feet. If it had been with anyone else — someone her age, a fellow student or peer, maybe — she, of course, would be anxious over it. But the fact that she had to see him a day later in class was… well, somehow embarrassing. 
She contemplates her outfit for hours, wanting to seem cute and put-together without overly desperate. She was scared it would be written all over her face the second she walked in and sat at her seat beside his podium — "I made out with Professor Styles in his office a day and a half ago and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it for more than two seconds since it happened" may as well have been written across her forehead. 
When she finally does show up to class, Harry looks… well, he looks like his usual self. He’s wearing those wide-legged trousers that she thinks he must have in at least a dozen colors, matched with a button down and a sweater vest overtop. He’s standing at the podium with his back to the entrance as he waits for students to filter in, squeezing his bottom lip between his fingers. He’s reading something, Y/N’s unsure what it is, but when he hears the less than graceful clatter of her setting her things down at the table, he glances over to her and flashes her a smile. 
A smile.
“Hey,” he greets. His voice is low and gruff and if she hadn’t been looking for it, she surely would’ve missed it. But she doesn’t, and it instead sends a zap of lovesick energy thrumming through her body. 
“Hi.” she mumbles back, waving as she leans over to pull her laptop from her bag. 
That’s the extent of the interaction, but it’s far more than she’s ever received from him. Normally, when she arrives at class, he fully ignores her. She only began to take issue with it when she figured out she was growing feelings for him, but somehow the quiet utterance of hey feels like a public acknowledgement of what occurred just a day prior. In some crazy way, it seems like it’s just as open as grabbing her and smacking a hard kiss to her lips. She finds herself wishing he would as he begins today’s lecture on male writers in feminist discourse.
As written on the schedule, Harry’s taking the time to discuss authors like George Herbert, John Berryman, and Leo Tolstoy. Y/N doesn’t feel particularly drawn to any of those figures, though a few weeks back when she and Harry were discussing this unit, they did find a mutual appreciation for Jacques Lacan. He wasn’t originally in the lesson plan — Y/N remembers it vividly, because she can recall saying that he would be a great fit. Her heart had expanded in her chest with praise when Harry agreed. 
And yet… Harry’s standing up there in front of the lecture hall, waxing poetic in the dreamiest way possible, about Jacques Lacan.
“Lacan was incredibly controversial, so I don’t expect all of us to feel comfortable with translating his viewpoints to modern day psychology,” Harry explains as he hovers over the old, wooden podium, “But what I do want to dig into is his basic idea of the symbolic register. Does anyone know what that is?”
Yes, Y/N wants to say. It’s the concept that our existence as humans includes language, culture, and rituals. 
“Lacan came up with this idea that he thought was waiting for us the second we were born. He felt that the symbolic register encompassed maybe more artsy, culture-based facets, and that was one of the most important parts of the human existence. We won’t get too far into it because this isn’t a psychology course, and frankly, I could give a shit if you truly understand this or not.” The class, including Y/N, laughs quietly. Harry rolls his lips into a thin line to avoid a smirk from appearing.
When the huffed merriment tapers off, he continues. “What I want you to take away as writers is this: Lacan’s symbolic register essentially implies that our lives, from the very start, are swamped with uncertainty. There’s no path for us. As you write your characters, consider that. Lacan thought that life experiences, specifically lack and desire, were what impacted the course we go on.”
As expected, the class is silent. Y/N’s found that students are typically too nervous or intimidated to contribute to conversations during Harry’s lectures, and she’s been on the receiving end of many, many emails asking things that could have been resolved in class.
“Think about what your characters lack. What are they missing? What are they unable to receive access to? Is it a resistance to pleasure, to giving in?”
Y/N swallows harshly at that. She pretends like she doesn’t hear it, instead focusing in on typing a response to an email in her inbox. 
“And then, consider their desires. Their deepest, darkest wants. No one has to know them — in real life, no one truly knows our truest desires, anyway,” she swears her eyes squeeze closed at that, but she quickly snaps them open, “But use it as an exercise for this weekend. Don’t forget, second drafts are due on Monday. Class is dismissed.”
Y/N swear she feels a second heartbeat in her core as the lecture hall begins to trickle out with students.
. . . 
“I thought we were waiting until the semester is over.” Y/N blurts it out when she can’t focus on grading Ren Wei's draft. 
Slowly, Harry glances up from the stack of papers he’s currently grading. With confused eyebrows, he sets his pen down. 
“We are,” he says softly. 
“Then what were you talking about in class today?” She hisses lowly. She keeps her voice quiet even though the door to Harry’s office is shut closed. 
“What do you mean?”
Y/N sighs frustratedly and sits back in her seat. She avoids Harry’s confused gaze as she crosses her arms over her chest. He ignores the way it pushes her breasts up through the soft fabric of her sweater. 
“The whole lack and desire thing. You know you weren’t planning on talking about Lacan until I brought him up a few weeks ago.”
Harry’s throat bobs and she licks over her lips, quickly glancing back up to his face. She’s right — they both know she’s right, but Harry’s reluctant to admit it. He’s stubborn — he’s always been this way in relationships, and it tends to be one of his greater downfalls as a partner. Deep in the pit of his heart, he knows Y/N deserves better. She wouldn’t be worth putting his job or her status as a student in danger if she wasn’t.
“You’re right,” he finally admits as he nibbles on his bottom lip. “I’m sorry. It was out of line and I won’t do that anymore.”
She pauses for a beat. And then, “I thought maybe you changed your mind.”
His shoulders deflate and she suddenly feels embarrassed. It was a stupid thing to reveal, she decides, and she picks at the skin surrounding her fingernails as she mentally beats herself up for it. 
And for a moment, Harry contemplates it. He knows it hasn’t been that long since he told her they have to wait, but he’d be a ridiculous liar if he didn’t admit that she’s all he’s been thinking about ever since they kissed in his office. Nervously, he reaches across the length of his wooden desk and takes her hand into his. He intertwines their fingers together and gives her hand a small, reassuring squeeze, and she looks up at him through her eyelashes. It makes his heart warm.
“You know this is incredibly difficult for me, right?” he asks. Y/N shakes her head and he scoffs in response. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N.”
She blushes. “I can’t stop thinking about you either.”
“Yeah?” he chuckles, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. She nods. “When we kissed, it… it was so good, y’know? It just… it felt good.”
“I know,” she breathes. She squeezes his fingers lightly before retracting her own hand and placing it in her lap. She may look naive, but she's already decided that she won't let him have the upper hand – not when it comes to something she can actually have control over, like teasing.
The movement surprises him but he chooses not to acknowledge it. “But this is what we decided on, right? It’s better this way. It’s kind of like edging, hm?” 
His eyes nearly bulge out of his skull as she glances down at her phone to look at the time. 
“Anyway, I have to head out to class. Text me if you need anything, Professor Styles.”
She waltzes out of his office with a snarky, knowing grin on her lips, and Harry has to do a series of deep breathing to stop his cock from exploding in his trousers. 
. . .
Y/N Y/L/N is a complete and utter minx. 
Harry has no choice but to come to this conclusion because in the weeks that follow their agreement, he swears she does everything she can to try and make him break. The worst part is, he doesn’t even know if she’s doing it intentionally. But every time they’re in the same room, all he can think about is hauling her over his shoulder, locking her in his office, and stretching her body over the length of his desk so he can fuck her until she can’t even think straight.
And there’s still three months left of the semester.
Admittedly, nothing ever really happens between them. Despite the apparent and blatant flirting that occurs on both sides, they keep things surprisingly professional, even behind closed doors. For the first time in his teaching career, Harry is actually ahead of grading. For some reason, he feels as though it’s a testament to how well he and Y/N actually work together.
But then there’s the matter of her teasing, which drives him up a fucking wall — the cute little mini skirts she almost always wears, the batting of her eyelashes at students in his class, followed by the wide-eyed smile she flashes Harry as soon as she knows he’s seen it. She even out-smarted him on Ursula LeGuin the other day and, as dorky as it seems, Harry doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on in his life.
It’s a series of back-and-forth. When Y/N has to leave his office for class, he’ll thumb at her chin or her cheeks so she gets all flustered before she heads out. Later that night, she’ll text him an innocent question with some sort of “typo”:
can’t stop thinking about your lips
oops! list* not lips! your list of grades — it’s due next friday, right??
It’s a stupid, risky game that neither of them can stop playing.
Even when they’re sitting in Harry’s office that Wednesday afternoon, buried beneath piles of final drafts for the midterm paper, he can’t help but gnaw on his bottom lip as she sits across from him. She’s focused — the cute furrow between her brows is the primary tell — but every now and then she’ll bring her pen up to her mouth to bite on it or poke her tongue out to lick over her lips.
Despite the chill of the day, she’s wearing a wool mini skirt atop sheer black tights, and he hasn’t been able to stop glancing down at the soft skin of her thighs since she showed up to campus hours ago. He wants nothing more than to rip a hole in the fabric, pull her into his lap, and kiss her until she’s a whimpering, breathless mess. 
He’s so distracted that he doesn’t even notice the clock is steadily ticking towards 5 pm and, technically, Y/N should’ve left an hour ago. With wide eyes, he drops his pen on the pile of papers in front of him. 
“Shit,” he curses, “You should go. Your hours ended at 4.”
She taps her phone screen beside her, “Oh. I didn’t realize it was so late. I guess I got in the groove with grading.” 
“It happens.” He says understandingly as he leans back against his chair, stretching his achy back out some. “I’ll see you on Monday, then?”
She peers up at him through her lashes. “It’s 5 pm on a Friday, Harry. You should leave, too.”
He runs his tongue over his teeth. She’s right, especially since he’s been attempting to distract himself from his crush on Y/N by doing late grading sessions in his office. 
“Yeah, you’re right,” he mumbles as he grabs his large tote bag. “I’ll walk you out, if that’s okay.”
They both know that it’s perhaps a cross of the boundary they’ve been trying to firmly maintain, but how harmful could a walk be? 
Y/N flashes him a small smile. Silently, they each pack their things up, and she follows him out of this office as he locks his door. They walk side-by-side, Y/N nibbling on her bottom lip as Harry tries to resist the urge to grab the hand that he keeps accidentally brushing with his own knuckles. 
“Do you have any weekend plans?” She suddenly asks softly, glancing up at the taller male. 
He hums, “Nothing too exciting. Probably just gonna catch up on TV and reading. You?”
“The secret life of an English professor, hm?” Y/N teases and he chuckles. “I have to start prepping for midterms. Laundry, too. I guess nothing more fun than your plans.” 
He laughs and her stomach erupts into flutters as he holds the front door for her. She smiles in gratitude, but her steps come to a stop when she witnesses the state of the weather. 
It’s nearly a white out. A snowstorm must have barreled through while they were busy grading, because now it’s dark, flurries of snow instantly landing on Y/N’s eyelashes and jacket. 
“Y/N,” Harry appears at her side, “You’re not planning on walking through this, are you?”
“I-I don’t have a car.” She mumbles, stuffing her already freezing cold hands into her pockets. “I’ll be fine, it’s not far.”
“No, but I wouldn’t feel okay with sending you home in this,” he replies. She blinks when she feels his hand reach out to her shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. “Would you let me drive you home, please? Just so I know you get home safely.”
Her stomach turns. This would officially cross the student/teacher boundary, but he’s right — it’s frigid out, and she always hates walking home in the dark anyway. Swallowing tightly, she nods. 
“Yeah, please. I’ll take a ride.”
“Good,” he exhales with a nod, “My car’s just over in the faculty lot.” 
With the both of them slowly shuffling through the snowy ground, they eventually make it to Harry’s car. As expected, it’s covered in snow, but he turns it on and blasts the heat so she can sit inside while he uses a brush to clear it off. She picks at her fingernails as she watches him through the foggy front window, her chest continuing to grow with nerves. She knows that this is all she’s wanted for weeks — to be alone with Harry, outside of the confines of his office — so why is she so scared? 
Luckily, he gets in the car before she has more time to contemplate it. Blowing warm air into his cupped hands, he shivers dramatically. 
“Fuck, it’s cold,” he whines, making her giggle. “Something funny about that, passenger princess?” 
“No!” She exclaims with a laugh, “I’m sorry I didn’t help clear your car off. I’m sure that was awful.”
His eyes crinkle teasingly as he chuckles along with her. As he backs up out of the parking spot with ease, he presses the palm of his hand to the back of Y/N’s headrest, checking to make sure he’s clear. She wonders if he’s used to driving in the snow, but lets the question die in her throat instead of pushing the conversation. 
“Sorry, I didn’t ask where you live,” he says when he turns onto the main road. “I think you mentioned once that you’re not too far from campus?”
She nods. “Yeah, I’m on Maple. It’s a single-person house, I’ll tell you where to turn.”
“You live alone?”
She doesn’t think the question is meant to be inherently suggestive, but there’s something about his immediate response that has her teetering on feeling that way. Swallowing, she nods again.
“Mhm. Most of my friends graduated or moved away when we finished undergrad, so it’s just me.”
“No pets or anything? You seem like the type to own one of those bald cats.”
Y/N balks at his reply, a peel of laughter bubbling from her chest. “What?”
Harry’s cheeks warm as he slowly drives down the snow-covered street. He doesn’t know how to tell her that he thinks about what kind of person she is when she’s not around — he knows it probably sounds creepy, but it’s how he’s been entertaining himself in the meantime. 
“I just… feel like you’d like those things,” he treads lightly, shrugging his shoulders, “Is my assumption wrong?”
“Very much so. I’ve only had dogs,” she giggles, “Are there any other assumptions I should know about?”
His throat bobs. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” she quirks a brow. “Turn at the light.”
He flicks his right signal on, “I may have tried to figure you out a bit in my… spare time.”
He cringes, but the sound of her laughter quickly pulls him from his embarrassment. 
“Well now I have to know.”
“Fine,” he decides, finding himself drawn to her little game, “I think you prefer matcha or hot chocolate over coffee.”
“True, but that’s only because you watch me cringe every time you drink your stupid black coffee.”
Harry snorts, “Okay, fair. I think you’re a homebody.”
“Mhmm,” Y/N nods. “True. Go on.”
“You prefer chocolate to vanilla.”
“Strawberry, actually.”
He hums. “You read period piece smut for fun.”
Y/N lets out a loud cackle. “What about my personality makes you think that?”
“You just seem like the type to go to the romance section at the bookstore, but only buy dirty books that are set in the 1800s,” he replies easily, a smirk edging at his lips, “Am I wrong?”
She ignores the way her cheeks flair with warmth. “I’m not opposed to it, but it’s not the only thing I read.”
“Sure,” he laughs. She rolls her eyes before pointing to a house down at the end of the road. 
“I’m right over there.” 
Harry nods and pulls up in front of it. The snow is only worse on the residential streets, likely because there haven’t been many cars going through to clear the roads. She nibbles on her lip as she unbuckles her seatbelt and turns to look at him. 
“Thank you for the ride.” she says softly. 
“Of course.”
They stare at each other for a beat before Y/N tears her gaze away from him. She glances out through the front window, watching momentarily as snowflakes continue to beat down on the exterior of his car. 
“It’s not safe,” she mumbles breathily, facing him again. “You shouldn’t drive in this.”
He swallows. He knows what he should say: No, it’s okay. I should go home. We said we’d wait, remember?
But he doesn’t want to. Not when she’s dangling alone time, off campus, right in front of his face. He can’t resist her — he doesn’t want to resist her.
“Can I come inside, then?”
. . .
Y/N’s house is everything Harry would have expected it to be. 
She has two huge bookshelves that are overflowing with worn novels, Post-It’s and folded-down pages sticking out of nearly every page. She has plants and candles, cuddly blankets thrown askew over her couch, and a sink filled with half-consumed cups of tea. There are framed pictures and Polaroids tacked up on her fridge of people Harry assumes are her friends and family. He smiles gently as he passes by an image of her wedged between two older people who have some of her same features. It’s all very her, which means it’s all entirely too comforting.
“Do you want something to drink?” Y/N asks, nibbling on her bottom lip as she glances up at the man before her. It’s an unusual sight; one that makes her feel like she has to blink a few times to ensure she isn’t dreaming. 
“Not unless you’re willing me to make my ‘stupid black coffee’, as you affectionately referred to it in the car.”
Y/N blushes, “I don’t have any coffee here, but I can make you tea. Or hot chocolate.”
“Tea is good, sweetheart.”
The flush only deepens at the pet name. He’s not sure where it comes from — maybe easing into a relationship-type dynamic is easier than he thought, especially considering he’s been pushing it down since their kiss. He watches as she turns to face the kitchen counter, occupying herself with turning the kettle on and retrieving two tea bags and mugs. He wants nothing more than to hug her from behind, pressing his fingertips into her hips to squeeze them teasingly. To dip his head to the crook of her neck and press kisses along her delicate skin. He swallows and adjusts his trousers, willing the thickening erection tucked underneath to go away.
“How do you want it?” she asks, glancing behind her to look at him.
He coughs. “Sorry? How do I want what?”
“Your tea,” Y/N replies slowly, a small smile on her lips, “How do you want your tea, Harry?”
“Oh— um, however you take it is fine.”
She nods and busies herself with filling the mugs up with the boiling water. Once she’s finished, she slowly hands him the steaming cup. He smiles in gratitude, allowing their fingers to brush against one another in the pass-off.
“By the way,” she says lowly, blinking at him, “You’re doing a shit job of hiding your boner.” 
Her eyes crinkle in a smirk as she lifts the mug to take a sip of the warm liquid. Harry’s cheeks instantly warm and he stutters over his words, attempting to force out an apology. She lets him scramble for a moment before reaching out to curl her fingers over his wrist with a smile. 
“I’m just teasing you. I hope you know I don’t care.”
He huffs, setting his cup down on the dining room table, “Yeah, but I’m the one who told you we have to wait. And now I’m standing in your kitchen, getting hard over you making me tea.”
She giggles. “I consider that a compliment, to be honest.”
“I’m sure you do,” he grumbles, “You make me feel like a doped up, lovesick teenager.”
“Really?”
“Of course,” he scoffs, “Everything you do does something to me. Even if you don’t mean it. It’s ridiculous.”
“What do you mean?”
He sends her a knowing look and she grins. 
“You know what I mean, Y/N.”
“You know I’m not good at reading between the lines, Harry.”
He sighs. “You turn me on. Even by doing the stupidest shit— knowing more about me in certain subjects, wearing those cute little skirts… it all drives me insane. I’ve been trying to keep it together, but I can’t.”
“Then don’t,” she replies almost instantly, placing her mug on the table next to his, “I don’t want to wait, Harry. I feel… I feel so stupidly desperate for you. And I want this— I want you.”
“I know, but—”
“But in any other context, if we didn’t meet this way, there wouldn’t be an issue,” she points out stubbornly, “If we had come back to mine after a date, we’d already be upstairs with our clothes off.”
He can’t help the way his cock jumps at her words and he mentally groans. He wants to yell into one of those cute throw pillows on her couch, or maybe lay face down on the fluffy carpet in her hallway. 
“Listen, I’m sorry if I’m crossing boundaries, we can just watch TV or something—”
“Stop,” he cuts her off with a shake of his head. “Can we just… Can I just kiss you again? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”
Y/N blinks owlishly. Surprise is clear on her face, but it doesn’t stop her from nodding her head. As corny as it sounds — and Y/N knows it’s corny — it feels like magnets being pulled together. It’s not a moment longer before Harry’s palm is pressed gently against her cheek, his lips brushing up against hers. She’s nearly salivating at the thought of closing the gap between them and yet, at the same time, her brain is melting with lust. 
This kiss, unlike their first, is riddled with want. It’s hurried and sloppy, teeth clashing and tongues dipping into each other’s mouth. Harry’s hand slips from her cheek and down to the back of her neck, giving it a small, testing squeeze. She presses her chest impossibly closer to his, eyelashes flittering at the warmth radiating from the button-down he wears. She’s desperate to feel him, to eliminate any boundaries or distances between them — for the first time, she’s sick of playing games. 
“Upstairs,” she pants out through swollen lips. He takes her bottom lip between his teeth and pulls playfully, allowing it to snap back in place, “Take me upstairs, please.”
He swallows and her eyes find his Adam’s apple, nervousness settling in her chest. He gives her neck another squeeze. 
“Are you sure?” he breathes. She leans up to wrap her arms around his neck and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. 
“If you’ll have me, I’m yours, Harry.”
“You’ve always been mine,” he mutters with his forehead against hers, “Show me the way, sweetheart.”
She grabs his hand in hers and lightly tugs him out of the kitchen. If she’s being honest, she’s fantasized of this moment for months now. She was never sure of how it would happen (the logistics never mattered in her daydreams), but having him here, standing in her bedroom, feels like some kind of joke her mind conjured up. 
But when he lays her back against the mattress, elbows digging into the soft tufts of her bedding, it feels a little like a hazy fantasy. 
When he parts her thighs and kneels down between them, pressing a smattering of kisses along her neck as his hands push the fabric of her thick sweater up, her labored breathing is the only anchor she has in reality.
And when he finds himself between her thighs, tugging her black tights down to reveal a sodden pair of underwear, a hiss sounding out from her mouth when he bares her center to the cool air of her bedroom, things begin to feel very, very serious.
“Is this okay?” he asks huskily. He’s since moved down to kneeling on the carpet of her room, his large palms parting the insides of her thighs. Every single move he makes drives her insane. 
“Yes,” she breathes, fingers gripping the blanket beneath her. 
He’s less calculated now that he’s received her consent. She instantly mewls the second he puts his mouth over her, licking through the wet fabric of her underwear. Her eyes roll back just from the muffled sensation, especially when he allows a low moan to vibrate from his chest. 
“Need more,” he mutters against the soft skin of his thigh as he pulls the material to the side. He inhales sharply at the sight of how wet she is, his fingertip gently tracing over the tip of her swollen clit. “You were hiding all this from me for months.” 
He states it as if it’s a fact — like she’d been doing it intentionally, when all she’s been doing is dreaming of the day he’d finally be the one to break. Through a shaky swallow, she parts her lips. 
“Didn’t mean it,” she murmurs, sitting up slightly to look down at him. It’s a heavenly vision — the image of the professor she’s been crushing on, on his knees for her in her bedroom. He sends a smirk her way as if he can read her thoughts (and maybe he can, she’s truly not sure anymore), and surges forward to dip his tongue through her folds, licking up the heady arousal dripping from her hole. It makes her gasp and reach down to grab his hair, a tight fistful of locks in her hand.
“Doubt it,” he says into her core. His fingertip continues tracing tight circles into her clit as he begins to flex his tongue inside of her, and Y/N’s back is arching against the expanse of her mattress from the wet, intoxicating sensations of it all. It’s nearly too overwhelming for her, especially given the sensitivity of her clit — but Harry can feel her tensing beneath his grasp, a delicious telltale sign that her peak is quickly rising. 
“Harry— oh my god—”
“I know,” he coos, replacing his tongue with two of his fingers. He presses against her g-spot and she gasps, grinding her hips down against his hands, “There you go, angel girl, cum on my fingers. That’s it, good girl.”
If his hands weren’t currently occupied, one would undoubtedly be wrapped around his length right now, twisting and pumping until he emptied himself to the sight of Y/N’s coming, pulsating pussy. It's better than any daydream he ever could have thought of — her moans are beautiful and whimpery, her body warm and pliant beneath his touch as she comes down. Sensitivity immediately takes over and she gently bats his hands away, panting out loudly from above. 
“Alright?” He asks softly, placing a light kiss to her thigh. He hears her swallow loudly. 
“Jelly,” she mumbles, “Limbs are jelly.”
That makes him chuckle as he sits back up on his knees. He hovers over the length of her body and smiles at her fucked out expression. 
“You’re pretty when you come.” He says before leaning down to peck her lips. 
“Yeah?” She asks teasingly, “Show me what you look like?”
Harry stills but she nips at his bottom lip playfully, “You didn’t cum in your pants just from eating me out, did you?” 
“Got pretty close to it.” He confesses, eyes falling shut as she continues pressing kisses to his jawline and down to his neck. 
She hums at the admittance as her hands rake down his chest, “Do you wanna fuck me?” 
“Whatever you want,” he swallows, the answer sounding far more submissive out loud than he’d intentioned, “Fine with… I’m fine with whatever.” 
“I want you to fuck me.” She says, looking up at him. “Is that okay?”
“That’s perfectly okay.” 
Y/N grins and begins to make quick work of shedding his layers of clothes. His button-down is the first to go, followed by his trousers and belt. Once he’s down to his briefs, she gently hints at wanting to climb on top. He has no reservations with that so he helps her straddle his thighs, watching as her eyes peer down at his covered length. 
“You look big.” She admits. 
He’s not sure if it’s meant to be a compliment or a nervous comment, so he silently issues a small squeeze to her hip. 
“Seriously,” she continues with a frown. “Other girls have taken you no problem?” 
This makes him laugh. “Generally, yeah.” 
“I don’t think it’s gonna fit.” 
Harry smirks. “This isn’t your way of telling me you’re a virgin, right?”
“No!” She exclaims theatrically, and that only amplifies his laughter. “I’m just… I’m nervous! You look really big Harry, seriously.” 
“Take me out then,” he instructs lowly and the tone of his voice zips straight to Y/N’s center, “I promise, you’re freaking yourself out over nothing.” 
She grumbles as he pulls his underwear down his legs. Harry kicks them off his ankles and she sighs as she takes him into her hand. He has to make an effort not to hiss at the feeling of it. 
“Still huge,” she mutters, “My hand barely fits around you, Harry.” 
“You’re making my ego insane, angel.”
She peers up at him, where his arm is tucked behind his head like he’s lounging the day away. She gives the head of his cock a small squeeze. 
“Do you really think it’ll fit?”
“Yes,” he chuckles, “If not, I’ll just go down on you for an hour and by then you’ll be open and wet enough.”
“Shut up,” she mumbles, the thought of him spending an hour of his time between her thighs almost being too much to fathom. “‘M gonna try to put you in.”
“It’ll be fine, sweetheart. Just breathe and take your time. We can do a different position—“
“No,” she quickly shakes her head. “Wanna ride you. This is how I envisioned it.”
Harry’s eyebrow quirks at that but his curiosity is quickly replaced by pleasure when she hovers her hips over his length. The warmth from her previous orgasm is radiating off of her and he breathes out sharply when she pushes the tip in, her fingertips covering the sight. Harry reaches out to move them. “Need to see,” he grunts. 
Her jaw drops open as she slowly lowers onto him. Neither of them speak — it’s all entirely too consuming; her getting filled to the brim and him being surrounded by the tightest heat he’s ever felt. When she finally sinks down to his pelvic bone, her eyelashes flutter. 
“Can you move?” He asks through a slightly clenched jaw, “Or— do you need me to—“ 
“I can do it.” She replies as she steadily attempts to move her hips up. “Oh, that’s a lot.”
“Too much?”
She shakes her head, “It’s good. Is it good?”
“It’s amazing.” He breaths out, gritting his teeth as she moves up and down. 
With his reassurance under her belt, it’s easier for her to find a bit of rhythm, even if she has to place her hands down on his chest for stability. He happily places his own palms on top of them, curling his fingers around her wrists to help her. 
“There you go,” he encourages, leaning his head back against the pillow as he watches her. “You look so beautiful, holy shit.”
She moans when she finally figures out a pace that hits that soft spot inside of her, eyelashes fluttering from the constant pressure. Harry moves his hands down to her hips to assist in the maneuvers, but mainly because he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get sick of seeing his touch on her skin. She swallows harshly when she lifts a hand to coax at her swollen clit, a wet gasp sounding from her lips. Harry’s gaze lifts from where they’re connected to see widened eyes. 
“What’s the matter? Are you okay?” He asks in immediate panic. 
She nods quickly and reaches out to grab his hand and place it over his stomach. 
He thinks he may pass out. 
Beneath the soft, dimpled skin of her stomach, he can feel his length bulging in her tummy. If he looks close enough, he can see the faint outline. It takes everything in him not to snap. 
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters as she resumes her pace of bouncing on his cock. 
“Told you you were— oh— big,” she says stubbornly, and if he wasn’t so overwhelmed with the current state of her body, he probably would have had a comeback. But right now, all he can focus on is not blowing his load inside her. 
“Need you to come,” he grunts. She nods eagerly like a puppy and he smirks when her fingers return to her clit, rubbing tight circles. “Need you to come so I can paint that pretty pussy, yeah?” 
“Yes,” she mewls desperately. Her movements get jerkier and sloppier, but Harry has no problem meeting her hips. He thrusts up inside of her to hopefully reach the same spot, though his worry is quickly wiped away when he feels her muscles contract, her face twisting beautifully. 
He can barely help her through her orgasm before he’s pushing her into her side. He’s no longer inside and his hand has switched to keeping her thigh up as he pumps himself, groaning at the sticky mess between them. 
“Wanna feel it,” she whimpers almost pathetically, “Please Professor Styles, cum all over my pussy.” 
That’s all he needs before he’s bursting at the seams, ropes of thick, white cum covering her. He’s a groaning mess and he doesn’t even notice that she’s running her hand through his hair, playing with it gently, until he has nothing left to give. With a final whimper, he lays back against her bed, completely spent. 
When they’ve both caught their breath, Harry turns back onto his side to face her. 
“You alright?” he asks softly. He’s nervous to reach out and thumb at her cheek or press a kiss to her hand. For some reason, he feels like the situation is too delicate right now and he’s at risk of fucking it all up.
Y/N hums, “Mhm. Are you?”
“I am.” he answers with a thick swallow. “Is it okay if I hold you?”
“Please.”
His heart jumps and he wraps an arm around her shoulders, tugging her into his chest. He leans down and kisses her hair. 
They sit in the silence for a bit, Y/N finding comfort in Harry’s constant breathing, the sound of his heartbeat. 
And then: “So you envisioned this?”
She bites at the smile on her lips before she bats at his pecs, “Shut up. I know you did too.”
Harry has no problem admitting that she’s right.
1K notes · View notes
stylessbean · 2 months
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Harry Styles Fic Recs: Smut
------------ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍓🍒🍄 ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ------------
Hello everyone! Thank you so much for 200 followers! Here is the long-awaited smut fic rec masterlist so I hope y'all enjoy 😏😏
Last Updated: 7/02/2024
Series
Personal by @shawnxstyles
Only Angel by @cupid-styles
Blacking out and breaking hearts (slowburn!) by @dont-call-me-baby-posts
teach me by @freedomfireflies
office neighbours (another slowburn) by @atlafan
baby honey by @narrycherries
One Shots
Wishing you were here tonight is like holding on by @guardarecheluna
private show by @stylesharrys
the long weekend by @gurugirl
tentmate by @purplekiwis
moans and elevator music by @pleasingforharry
manbun by @eveningepiphany
just friends that f*ck by @1800titz
don't stop by @justlemmeadoreyou
the pact by @harryslittlefreakk
intimacy by @goldengalore
rough day by @goldengalore
Y/N and Harry have been on a dry spell, but then they fuck by @jawllines
short straw by @adorebeaa
learn to knock by @eveningepiphany
bound together by @harrysonlylover
overheard by @0nlythrowharrybeaux
2K notes · View notes
stylesloveclub · 8 months
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sunshine (part 1)
In which Harry's a dick and y/n is a virgin who cries a lot.
˙· .° 。  ˚ 。  ° . · ˚ ˙ · . ° 。 ˚ 。  ° . · ˙ · .° 。 ˚ 。 °.  · ˙ ‧̍̊  
Y/n wonders if she thinks too highly of herself.
She thinks she’s pretty. Not in an obnoxious, self-obsessed way! She knows she’s not a supermodel, and she definitely has a lot of days where she looks and feels totally dead – but at the end of the day, she’s not hideous. She splurges on pretty makeup products, does her hair in the mornings, spends a decent amount of time planning out cute outfits… you know, little things to make herself feel pretty!
She brushes her teeth twice a day, showers regularly, flosses. Wears pretty perfumes that smell like flowers and lip gloss that tastes like strawberries. There’s a stash of gum in her bag that she’s always chewing on, so she knows she doesn’t have bad breath; and she carries an extra deodorant in her backpack too, so you can’t tell her she’s repulsive or anything like that. 
She’s kind. She smiles at strangers and always laughs at people’s jokes (even if they aren’t funny)— holds the elevator door open and says a polite “good morning” or “hello!” with her happy, cheery voice. And even though she’s a bit shy, she tries her best to spread love and kindness in the world. It just makes her happy to make other people happy!
Plus, being nice means that everyone else is nicer to you. So even if she’s in a bad mood, she’ll fake a smile and pretend like she’s happy y/n.
But, she wonders... if she has all of these amazing qualities– if she really is as pretty and kind and wonderful as she makes herself out to be– then why hasn’t she been kissed yet?
She loves her friends, of course she does! But how is she so different from them? Why do all of her friends get asked out on dates and have amazing boyfriends while she’s still a lonely virgin who hasn’t even been kissed yet? 
It’s not like she’s this super virginal person who gets grossed out by boys! She wants to be kissed, she wants to get fucked! She’s toyed around with the idea of just downloading tinder and losing it all to some stranger in one night stand, but her romantic heart just can’t stand the thought of it. 
Yes, she’s desperate… but she’s also romantic. Love is on her mind 24/7. It’s what she thinks about before she falls asleep, what she daydreams about whenever she gets bored. She could spend hours with a romance novel, hyper fixating on the little things that most people wouldn’t blink an eye at. The way the boy’s hand cupped the girl’s jaw while they kissed, or how their fingers brushed as they walked down the street. Little things like forehead kisses and prolonged glances across a room. 
She craves it for herself, desperately aches for the affection that she reads of. She wants to rest her head on someone’s chest and listen to their heartbeat as she falls asleep, feel their fingers playing with her hair, or their lips skimming her cheek. Wants to laugh under the covers and share secrets and be vulnerable and in love. She wants it more than anything in the world! 
And yet, she hasn’t even been kissed! 
Everyone else seems to do it so easily – find a nice guy, go out on a date, and fall in love. So why is it so hard for her? Her friends tell her that she's the prettiest and sweetest girl out there, and that the right guy simply hasn’t come around yet… but y/n can’t help but think, is any of it true?
Is she even that pretty? Is she actually likable?
What’s wrong with her?
˙· .° 。  ˚ 。  ° . · ˚ ˙ · . ° 。 ˚ 。  ° . · ˙ · .° 。 ˚ 。 °.  · ˙ ‧̍̊  
Harry hates these stupid college parties.
They’re loud and stuffy, with way too many people crammed into one room for his liking. The alcohol is cheap, the music is annoying. The entire apartment smells like weed, and there’s not even a secluded corner for him to mope around in without some group of drunk girls completely invading his personal space. Everything about these parties sucks.
If he could, he’d leave. But he’s meant to give a ride home to his roomie Blake, and Blake’s currently hooking up with the host of this party. 
So Harry’s stuck here. Great. 
He checks his phone, and it’s nearly midnight. Blake should be done soon, right? The blonde girl who’s been talking to him for the past 20 minutes is getting awfully close, her hand trailing on his biceps and migrating towards his chest, and she’s blinking up at him with fluttery bambi eyes. 
Any other night and Harry might be into whatever this girl is hinting at, but he’s 100% sober and 100% not in the mood to hook up with a girl who’s taken one too many shots. He grabs the girl's hands and peels them off of his chest gently, muttering something about needing to use the restroom (he doesn’t even need to use the bathroom, he just needs a minute away from the pounding music). 
He sends her off in the direction of her friends, who are giggling to each other in a corner across the room and not-so-inconspicuously checking to see if their friend has managed to successfully get with Harry. He’s sure they’ve realized that he rejected her when they all glare at him. Sorry to disappoint, he thinks to himself. 
He’s nearly positive that any bathrooms in this shitty college apartment will probably be occupied, either with someone throwing up all the drinks they’ve had or with a couple hooking up. But no harm in trying anyway. 
The first door that he tries to open is locked. The second door opens up to reveal a coat closet. 
The third door however, opens up to a bedroom. 
The walls are decorated with posters and pictures, fairy lights hanging from the ceiling, and tiny pots of succulents placed all over the room… but the one thing that stands out the most is the overwhelming number of books scattered all over the room. There’s a bookshelf on each wall, cluttered with books of all colors and sizes. Stacks of books lie on the nightstand by the bed, a stray book sits on top of a dresser, and a pile of new, untouched books sits pristinely in the far right corner of the room. 
Books, books, and more books all over the room. And, a book in the hands of a girl sitting quietly in her bed, staring at Harry. 
Dressed in a hoodie and some fuzzy pj pants, the book that she’d once held up closely to her face now rests on her lap as she blinks up at this strange intruder. She sits upright, closing the book but sticking her finger between the pages so that she doesn’t lose her place. “Um… hi?” she says quietly. 
He steps into the room, and looks at her blankly. “Hi.” She blinks at him. “S’this room taken?” he asks.
“Um. Well,” she looks at him curiously. “No, I guess not.” 
“Okay, good,” he responds, quickly closing the door behind him. He sits on a spinny chair that he pulls out from under a desk and leans his head back, letting out a deep sigh of relief. 
The girl, with her finger still lodged between her book, stares at him confused. Who is this guy? 
He’s cute, and she’s mildly embarrassed that he’s come into her room when she’s looking so… sleepy. But he also seems kinda grumpy and is obviously not in the mood to talk. He’s leaning back in her chair and closing his eyes, gently rubbing his temples as if he’s meditating. 
She observes him with wide eyes. Then after a minute of silence she awkwardly picks her book back up and tries to resume reading. 
Kinda hard to do with some random guy sitting in her bedroom, though. 
In this secluded bedroom, the sound of the music has decreased dramatically. Harry’s pounding headache starts to fade away, and he feels himself start to relax for the first time since he arrived at this stupid party. He looks around the room that he so luckily stumbled into. 
The desk in front of him is, to no surprise, cluttered with more books. A laptop is plugged in in front of him, and there’s a cup full of colorful pens and markers sitting against the wall. Hanging on the wall is a string of pictures starring the same girl with different groups of people. 
He looks at the pictures hanging from the walls. Then he looks back at the girl laying in the bed. 
“S’this your room?” he asks, finally connecting the dots.
She looks up from the book again and nods. 
“Oh,” he hums, surprised. He supposes he should’ve realized it as soon as he walked in. Girl in a room full of books, reading a book. Face clean of all makeup, snuggled up in a blanket, nice and comfy as though she’s just about ready for bed. It’s a bit silly that he only made the connection once he saw her pictures up on the walls. “Why aren’t you out there partying?” 
“Um… not really my scene,” she says, closing the book and looking at Harry properly. Her nose scrunches up, “And it smells really bad in there.”
“Jesus, tell me about it,” he groans. “Could hardly breathe in there. In fact–” he says, already standing up, “d’ya mind if we open up a window? Still feels stuffy in here.” 
She shows no resistance as he slides the window open, accepting the fact that she’d be sharing her room with this stranger until the party was over. Harry sticks his head out and takes a deep breath of the cool, fresh air. Much better than the sweaty, smoky, sickly smell going on inside the apartment. 
When he turns back around, the girl has rearranged herself. She sits criss-crossed on her bed and looks up at Harry, fidgeting nervously with her lip bitten between her teeth. 
She’s kind of cute. 
Harry breaks the silence again. “I think your roommate is hooking up with my roommate right now.” 
“Oh.” She blinks. “Is your roommate Blake?” 
He nods.
“Yeah, Maddie’s been saying that she, um… you know,” she looks down at her hands as they play with a loose thread on the hem of her pants. “Wants to hook up with him or whatever.” 
He nods his head, leaning back against her wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest. As refreshing as the air is, the night time breeze is cold. 
“No offense,” he says, “But you don’t seem like you’d be friends with Maddie.” Maddie (y/n’s roommate) has jet black hair, wears heavy eyeliner and black lipstick everyday, and is at least a little bit high 90% of the time. Y/n, in comparison, has flowery bed sheets, a stuffed bunny tucked in next to her, and is hiding in her bedroom while a party being thrown in her own apartment. 
She just smiles softly. “Yeah, we met online. But she’s really nice.” 
He raises his eyebrow. “She seems like a bitch.” 
She defends her roommate immediately. “She’s not a bitch!” But then she thinks about it for a second. Maddie can definitely come off a bit… harsh at times. “Well… she’s usually really nice to me, at least.” 
That makes sense. It would be very hard to be mean to this girl, he imagines. She’s too nice. It would be like being mean to a puppy or something. 
Good thing Harry isn’t mean. He’s just… a bit of a grump. 
She taps her fingers against the cover of her book awkwardly, staring at Harry as he looks up to her ceiling and closes his eyes. He just wants to be in his bed right now. 
After a few more minutes of silence, Harry pushes himself off the wall. “I think Blake should be done,” he says, checking the time on his phone. “I’m going to leave now.” 
“Okay,” says the girl quietly. She watches as he leaves with a nod of his head, and shuts the door behind him. 
That was weird, she thinks. 
Whatever, though. She opens her book and forgets about it. 
+++
Don’t people say that drowsy driving is just as bad as drunk driving? What constitutes drowsy driving? Should y/n even be out on the road right now?
She doesn’t know. All she knows is that Maddie woke her up with a phone call at 2 AM, asking if y/n would come pick her up from Blake’s apartment cause she was too high to get back on her own and she doesn’t want to stay the night there. 
Y/n, being the sweetheart that she is, obviously wants her roommate to get back safe. So she’s in her car, at 2 AM, yawning every three seconds as she drives to the location Maddie sent her.
She texts Maddie from the car, but Maddie doesn’t respond. She calls her, then sends another text, but still no answer. After 10 minutes of no response, she goes up to the door and knocks. 
Maddie doesn’t answer. Instead, it’s Harry.
His eyebrows furrow as recognizes the girl from that party he’d been at two weeks ago. She looks just as comfortable as she did then, in a big pink hoodie and a pair of sweats. “What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice confused and his eyes doubting. Not many people come knocking at his door at 2 AM.
Unlike y/n, who looks like she just rolled out of bed and drove here (that is exactly what she did), Harry looks like he’s been up all night (he’s been playing COD). He’s not wearing a shirt and has a pair of sweats slung low on his hips, showing off a chiseled abdomen that acts as a canvas for a multitude of pretty tattoos. Y/n finds herself staring at the swallows that lie under his collarbones, the butterfly painted above his stomach, and the ferns lining a yummy pair of v-lines that point downwards… she swallows thickly and forces herself to look away. 
“Um,” she covers her mouth as she yawns, hiding her cold fingers with the sleeves of her hoodie, “Maddie needed me to drive her home.” She blinks sleepily, and can’t even bring herself to be embarrassed that she looks so dead.
“It’s 2 in the morning,” he scoffs. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”
She blinks sleepily again. “I was.” 
Harry rolls his eyes. If it were him, he would not have gotten up and driven all the way over here. Someone else’s problems are not enough to get him out of bed. But, this girl… she’s too nice. 
He leaves her at the door and goes to Blake’s room, pounding on the door rudely. “Hey!” he yells, irritation evident in his tone, “your roommate’s here.” 
He hears a bit of shuffling, before Maddie stumbles out of Blake’s room, makeup askew and clothing only half on. She giggles up at Harry and apologizes playfully, but he just glares at her. Her eyes are glazed over and the whites of her eyes bloodshot, very obviously high if the way she couldn’t walk straight wasn’t enough of an indication. 
He feels bad for the stupid girl who drove all the way over here in the middle of the night because her roommate wanted to get high.
Maddie trips over her own feet and falls into y/n, who uses all of her strength to keep her roommate upright and walks her slowly down to the car. “Are you feeling okay?” Harry hears her ask quietly. He scoffs to himself.
He doesn’t get it. How the fuck has this girl not lost her shit? Her irresponsible roommate woke her up at 2 am and made her drive all the way to some stranger’s house, and yet she still manages to be so… gentle. So kind, to someone who barely even deserves it. So caring, to someone who seems to care so little. 
As y/n helps Maddie get into the car, she looks back up to the apartment and sees Harry watching them from the doorstep. They make eye contact for a few seconds, his eyebrows furrowed as he leans against the doorframe. His gaze makes her heart stutter, a chill running down her spine. He looks… upset. Almost like he’s mad at her.
It makes her frown. She wants to say something to him, apologize for ruining his night… but then Maddie sticks her head out of the car and vomits. 
Harry shakes his head and turns away. 
That girl is too nice for her own good. 
+++
“Hey.” Blake pokes his head into Harry’s room, where Harry’s busy playing a round on his computer, “Do you mind if Maddie and her friend come over?”
“Don’t care,” Harry mumbles, uninterested, not looking away from his game. 
“Sick,” he turns around to go back into his own room, but stops when Harry suddenly pauses his game and calls out to him.
“Who’s the friend?” Harry asks, turning around. 
“Y/n,” Blake answers. Harry stares at him, his brows furrowed. The name doesn’t ring a bell. “Her roommate.” 
“That quiet girl?” Harry clarifies.
“Yeah, that one.” 
Oh. So her name was y/n. 
Good to know. 
+++
It’s dark out when Harry finally turns off his game, sliding his headset off and stretching his back. He lets out a long groan as he feels his spine crack, a delicious feeling after being hunched over his controller for three hours straight. 
Standing up, he scratches at his stomach lazily, throwing his headset onto his chair. His arms feel a bit sore, having been to the gym earlier that day, and his hair is still wet from when he showered. He puts on a sweatshirt, finding his apartment too cold to be roaming around shirtless, and heads to the kitchen to find something to eat. 
He stops in his tracks when he finds y/n sitting in his living room all alone. 
She’s got a book in her hands, a thick, worn-out novel that looks older than herself. She’s sitting comfortably on their couch with her legs tucked underneath her butt, so engulfed in whatever she’s reading that she doesn’t even realize that she’s not alone anymore. 
It’s the first time he’s ever seen her outside of her sleep attire. She’s wearing a pair of loose, comfy looking corduroy pants, and a tight top that cuts off just below her ribs. Her chest rises and falls steadily, eyes skimming across the pages of her book so quickly that he wonders if she’s actually absorbing any of the words or not. She chews on her lip as she reads, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. 
When Harry finally speaks, it makes her jump in her place. “Where are Blake and Maddie?”
Her book nearly falls out of her hands as she whips her head around. When she sees it’s him, she relaxes. “Oh. Um,”  she sits upright, closing her book, “They’re in his room.”
He nods slowly, squinting his eyes. There’s no nice way to ask his next question, so he just spits it out bluntly. “Why’d you come over if you’re just sitting out here while they hook up?” 
She tucks her hair behind her ear nervously, feeling a little shy under his intimidating gaze. “Maddie was my ride to campus today. And she wanted to stop by here before we went home.” She shrugs quietly, “So I kinda had no choice.”
He huffs. Of course. 
Y/n says that Maddie’s nice, but Harry really doesn’t like her. How weird is it to drag your friend somewhere just to have them sit alone while you go hook up with someone? 
“How long have you guys been here?” he asks.
“Like, an hour.”
“So you’ve been sitting around doing nothing for an hour?”
She pouts. “I had my book.”
He blinks. She just sat here reading for an hour, while her roommate abandoned her to go hookup with Blake… and she’s okay with it? 
She is too nice for her own good. 
“Do y’want some pizza?” he asks, already opening the freezer.
Normally, y/n would say no. She’s kind of an unwelcome guest and she doesn’t want to be a burden on Harry. But… she hasn’t had anything since breakfast. And Maddie still hasn’t come out. She’s kind of starving.
“What kind?” she asks politely.
“Umm… cheese or pepperoni.” 
“I don’t like pepperoni,” she confesses shyly. “But also I could just pick it off if you want pepperoni. Whatever you want.” 
He rolls his eyes, shoving the pepperoni pizza back into the freezer. He wants to scream at her to stop being so nice! Stop being so considerate and just say what you want!
He puts it in the oven to bake, setting a timer for 15 minutes, then takes a moment to contemplate his next move. He could either go back into his room, where he could lie in bed and nap until the pizza was ready… or he could stay in here and sit awkwardly on the couch so that y/n wouldn’t be all alone. 
99% of him wants to just go back into his room where he can be grumpy and alone in peace… but then he looks over at y/n, who’s sitting on the couch all by herself. She looks so uncomfortable and out of place, tracing her thumb over the raised up font on the hardcover in her hands.
The 1% of him that feels bad for her wins. He sits down next to her on the couch. 
He nods his head towards the worn out book, which looks thicker than anything he’s ever read. “Are you reading the fuckin’ bible?” 
“No,” she shakes her head, laughing to herself quietly. She runs her fingers over the grooves of the title, a feeling so familiar that it comforts her when she’s feeling so out of place. “It’s Wuthering Heights.” 
He furrows his brow. “Never heard of it.” 
“It’s good,” she says. “Kinda dense, but I’ve already read it a few times. It’s one of my favorites.” 
He nods again, tapping his fingers on his thighs as silence overtakes the apartment once more. He looks around the living room, trying to find something else to say. 
Y/n’s heart pitter patters in her chest nervously. She can’t help but feel a bit nervous around Harry. She’s pretty shy in general, and Harry’s stoic demeanor certainly doesn’t help her relax. Her voice is quiet as she asks, “Um… what’s your major?” A feeble attempt on her end at a conversation. 
“Math.” 
“Just math?” she parrots.
“Mhm,” he cracks his knuckles. “Pure math.” 
She huffs out a quiet breath, a pout on her lips. “I’m in a math class right now.” Her fingers pick at a piece of fuzz that’s stuck on the couch. “Calc 1. It’s really hard.”
“Mm, yeah.” Harry hums, “Took that during my first year.” 
She looks at him with wide eyes, “Did you pass?” 
He holds back a smile. It’s amusing, how earnestly she’s asking him – a math major – if he passed Calculus 1. That class was generally easy for him, mostly just beginner stuff compared to the math he does now that he’s in his third year. But he doesn’t say that. “Yeah, I did,” he says simply, not wanting to make her feel bad.
She nods, looking back down at her book. “I’m kinda scared. Our first midterm was really hard.” 
He hums sympathetically. Even though it was easy for him, he knows that calc class is infamously hard for others – especially for those who aren’t math inclined like himself. “How about you? What’s your major?” 
His legs are spread apart so that he takes up nearly half the couch, whereas y/n sits curled up on the other corner, trying to take up as little space as possible. “Bio,” she readjusts herself so that she’s sitting crisscrossed, her book still clutched to her chest protectively. “With a concentration in ecology.” 
Ew. He hates biology. Actually… he hates everything except math. Math is easy for him. 
The oven beeps. A rush of relief fills his chest, finally free from this awkward conversation, and he eagerly abandons y/n on the couch to get the pizza out. He’s hungry, starving, and doesn’t bother with a plate or anything before grabbing a slice and shoving it in his mouth. 
“Come have some,” he mumbles, mouth full.
She timidly walks over to the kitchen counter that he’s standing at, wiping her sweaty hands on her pants, and takes a slice as well. Blowing on it, she takes a much smaller bite than Harry did since it’s still so hot. She doesn’t know how he managed to already finish a whole slice. 
Now that they can focus on eating their food, there’s no need for any more small talk. They eat comfortably in silence, only acknowledging each other when y/n asks for a napkin. He nods towards one of the drawers, asking her to grab him one too, and then they’re back to eating in silence. 
Blake and Maddie burst out of his room a few minutes later.
“Harry made dinner!” exclaims Blake, coming over and reaching for a slice of pizza. 
Harry yanks the tray out of his reach. “Get your own pizza,” he mumbles, putting the pizza back down in front of y/n. He looks at her, and nods his head towards the pizza, inviting her to take another slice. 
Maddie stops her before she can reach for a second slice. “Ready to go?” she asks. 
Y/n nods, wiping her hands on a napkin. “Thanks for the pizza,” she whispers to Harry, quiet enough so that only he hears. 
“Yeah,” is all he says. He barely looks at her, too busy scarfing down his third (maybe fourth) slice. 
She grabs her stuff and follows Maddie out of the boys apartment. 
+++
“Hey!” Maddie pushes her way through the stuffed apartment, reaching her hand out towards y/n. “Listen, I’m gonna go home with Blake.”
“W-What?” Y/n’s head is foggy, her brain a little clouded from the few drinks that she’s had. Y/n doesn’t normally drink, so the little bit of alcohol in her system has had its intended effect and gone a bit further as well – her cheeks are warm, and she feels the world sway a little bit as she looks up at Maddie with a pout. “But– but what about me?”
Normally, y/n stays home whenever Maddie wants to go out and party. She prefers the comfort of her own bed and hates the anxiety she feels when she’s drunk and wobbly and surrounded by a bunch of strangers. But Maddie had assured her that they’d be together all night, that she’d take care of her if she got drunk, and that she’d drive them home whenever y/n wanted to leave.
She’s broken all three of those promises. 
When they got to the party, Maddie abandoned her as soon as she saw Blake across the room. Luckily, y/n saw some of her own friends that she was able to hang out with, some girls from her ecology class who gave her a yummy strawberry smirnoff. They talked and laughed and y/n was having a good time, slowly but surely getting a little bit tipsy. The drink was so yummy, and Maddie wasn’t there to keep an eye on her, so she didn’t realize that she’d gone a bit over her tolerance. 
She’s a bit tipsier than she’d like to be in a public setting, surrounded with people she doesn’t know, and it’s too dark outside for her to get home safely on her own. And now… Maddie wants to abandon her? For Blake? 
“Don’t worry!” Maddie exclaims, completely disregarding the worry flickering in y/n’s glazed eyes. “I’ll order you an uber home!” 
Y/n bites her lip nervously. An uber? At this time of night, when she’s all drunk and stumbling around like a sad little baby deer?
“Um… can’t you take me home before you go with Blake?” 
Maddie rolls her eyes, “come on, really? I’ll pay for the uber. It'll be fine.” 
Y/n’s heart beats loudly in her chest, “I-I’m scared of going by myself, Maddie. I think I had too much to drink, I don’t feel safe.”
Her roommate purses her lips in a firm line, as if she’s annoyed. She looks around the apartment, tapping her foot impatiently, then she lights up with an idea. “Stay here,” she tells y/n. 
“Harry!” Maddie calls out, making her way back to the other side of the apartment. “Hey, Harry!” 
He’s sitting on a couch, next to a pretty girl in a tight black dress who has her legs splayed across his lap comfortably. There’s a furrow in his brow that makes him look pissed off, but his hand rests very comfortably on this girl's thigh and he makes no objections as she plays with the collar of his shirt. His head whips over to Maddie as she tramples her way over to him.
“What is it?” he snaps, voice closed off and irritated. 
“Can you drive y/n home?” 
He blinks. “Huh?” 
“Can you drive y/n home??” she says again, frustrated.
“Why?” 
“Cause I’m going over to your apartment with Blake and she needs a ride home.” 
He stares at Maddie unbelievingly, and peers over at y/n, who’s sitting all alone on the other side of the apartment. Her lips are pouted sadly, staring down at the floor with a far off look in her eyes. 
“Why can’t you take her home?” he grumbles, looking up at Maddie with a glare in his eye.
She huffs, impatiently stomping her foot. “Cause I’m going home with Blake right now! Come on Harry, it’s not that far! Please?” 
He shakes his head. “Fuckin’ unbelieveable,” he mutters under his breath, pushing the girl off of him as he stands up. 
“Thank you,” she sighs, dragging him behind her. “Y/n,” Maddie says, stopping in front of her. “Harry’s gonna drive you home.” 
She looks up, eyes wide and round. “H-Harry?”
“Yes,” she says harshly, “you guys are friends, aren’t you?”
“Um…” y/n doesn’t know what to say. She wouldn’t necessarily consider them friends just because they shared a pizza. 
Her night out with Maddie was meant to be fun, but right now, she just feels abandoned and kinda scared. And Harry doesn’t seem too happy about this either, which makes her feel even worse.
“Lets go,” he snaps, jaw clenching tightly as he swings his car keys around his index finger. She flinches at his tone and digs her nails into her palms nervously. 
She’s trapped. It’s either Harry takes her home, or she takes an uber all by herself. And she’s too scared to get home alone right now. 
With a final look towards Maddie, who stares back at her dismissively and shoos her towards Harry, she stands up shakily and follows Harry out of the crowded apartment. 
The air outside is much colder than the apartment, goosebumps immediately rising on y/n’s skin and making her shiver. Harry doesn’t acknowledge the way she stumbles over her feet, walking ahead of her briskly. She’s forced to keep herself composed, wrapping her arms around herself to keep warm and nearly jogging to keep up with Harry’s long strides. 
He unlocks his car doors and gets into the driver’s seat. Y/n opens the passenger’s side door for herself and takes a seat, buckling herself in quietly.
Turning on the car, he notices the way her arms are tightly crossed in front of her chest. He turns up the heat, and pulls out of the parking lot. 
They play no music and say nothing, driving in silence.
“Sorry you have to drive me home,” she says faintly after a few minutes. 
His turn signal blinks softly. “Can’t believe your roommate just left you,” he mutters irritatedly. 
She says nothing in response. She stares out the window, a lump in her throat as the drive past the streets of college houses and apartments. The red light they stop at and the name of the streets go blurry from the tears gathering at her waterline. She sniffles softly.
Harry whips his head to her. “Why are you crying?”
Her lower lip wobbles as the first tear falls from her lashes. She wipes it away quickly. “I don’t know,” is all she says with a watery voice.
He stares at her befuddled, brows furrowed and eyes a piercing green, but she refuses to meet his gaze. She just looks outside the window in a melancholy haze, lost in thought, eyes unfocused as tears drip down her face silently. 
He sighs deeply and taps his fingers against the steering wheel, praying for the red light to turn green so that he can get this girl home as soon as possible. 
+++
When they arrive at her place, he sits in his car and watches as she stumbles up the steps of her apartment. She mumbled out a soft thank you through her tears and managed to climb out of his car smoothly, but the way she wobbles on her feet makes Harry worry that he shouldn’t leave until he’s sure she got in.
She stands in front of her door for a solid two minutes, trying to find her keys, and Harry taps his fingers against his thigh impatiently. When she finally finds them, she struggles to fit the key in the lock, hands shaky and her vision still blurred from the tears. Aaaand then she drops them. 
Harry sighs and puts the car in park. By the time she’s picked the keys back up, Harry’s already gotten out of his car and reached the top step. He takes the keys from her and easily unlocks her door. “In,” he mutters, ushering her into her apartment impatiently. 
He follows her into her bathroom and turns the light on for her. Their eyes meet in the mirror as he asks, “can you get yourself ready for bed?”
She nods, looking down at the ground sheepishly as he leaves her to take off her makeup and brush her teeth. She opts to skip her skincare routine and doesn’t even bother with putting her jewelry back in her jewelry box, simply just leaving her earrings on her bathroom counter to deal with tomorrow. 
Harry’s probably gone back down to his car by now, she thinks. It’s so embarrassing, how he had to drive her home and guide her into her bathroom. He seemed annoyed with her. He probably thought she was so messy – an annoying, overdramatic girl who started crying in his car for no reason. 
More tears bubble in her tears as the hot wave of embarrassment washes over her. She was such a mess, of course she’s never been in a relationship. Nobody would want to date someone like her. 
She takes off her clothes and whips off her bra, sniffling to herself sadly. Slipping on her favorite sweatshirt, a huge pink one that goes down to her mid thighs and covers her hands, she uses the sleeves to wipe away the excess tears in her eyes. She stumbles over herself a bit and bangs her foot against her dresser as she reaches for a pair of sleep shorts and it only makes her want to cry even harder. Drunk y/n is extra emotional, and every little thing is sending over the edge. 
As she’s stepping into her pair of sleep shorts, her bedroom door opens, Harry walking in with a glass of water in one hand and a pill bottle in the other. She trips over herself as she tries to pull her clothes on as soon as possible, but it just makes her lose balance and stumble to the side. His eyes widen and he turns around quickly, muttering a quick fuck to himself. 
“Sorry,” he mutters. “Are you decent?”
Y/n regains her composure, cheeks burning as she pulls her shorts over her hips. This night could not be going any worse. “Yeah,” she says quietly. She hopes it’s dark enough in the room so that he doesn’t see her flaming cheeks and puffy eyes. 
He turns around and hands her the water, which she immediately starts chugging down. She didn’t realize how thirsty she’d been until she’d seen the glass in Harry’s large, tattooed hand. 
“Slow down,” he grunts. He pops open the pill bottle and takes out one Advil for her. “Take this.” 
She grabs the pill from him obediently and swallows it down with the rest of her water. Then she looks up at him, as if waiting for his next instructions. 
“Bed,” he says, nodding his head towards her daisy printed sheets. She goes to climb in but trips over her shoe that she’d messily discarded on the floor. Harry grabs her waist before she can fall to the floor though. 
“Jesus,” he murmurs. This was like the seventh time she’s almost fallen over tonight. Is she always this clumsy or was it the drinks? 
He grabs her hand and physically guides her into her bed, making sure she lays down properly and lifting the sheets for her to climb under. Grabbing her ankle, he literally has to guide her under the blanket, then lets the duvet fall over her gracefully. 
“All good?” he asks, once she’s tucked nicely into her bed, teeth brushed and medicine taken so that she wouldn’t wake up feeling gross tomorrow. 
She looks up at him, eyes no longer tear filled but still clearly sad. “Yeah..” she says quietly, however her eyes flicker around her room as if she’s searching for something. 
He furrows his brows, and glances in the direction her eyes have landed. A stuffed bunny lies on the floor next to the shoe that she tripped over. He bends over and picks it up, handing it to her questioningly. She takes the bunny and snuggles it into her neck, eyes fluttering as if she can finally relax. “Thanks,” she whispers. 
Harry nods curtly and heads for the door. When he turns around one final, y/n is watching him with sleepy eyes. “Bye, Harry,” she squeaks out. 
He stares at her for a second. “Bye.” Then he closes the door behind himself.
+++
Y/n wakes up with a pounding headache and an upset tummy.
That was mortifying. 
She’s never gonna be able to face Harry again. He was so annoyed with her, she just knows it! The way she dragged him away from that party, cried in his car, and tripped over herself like a stupid goat with clanky legs… oh, he probably thinks she’s the worst! 
She wishes she had more control over her emotions, that she could’ve held in the tears until she was alone in her bed… but she just felt so miserable last night. She had wanted to start crying literally when Maddie first yelled at her at the party, but she tried to stay strong. Kept herself together so that she at least didn’t start crying in the middle of a party.
But then… getting in the car with Harry. God. The deafening silence, the irritation radiating off of him… it made her feel terrible. She felt like a nuisance, like an annoyance and a burden. 
And she completely humiliated herself in front of Harry! The cute guy that she maybe sort of had started to have a tiny little crush on, simply because he was cute and mildly nice to her and she has a habit of romanticizing small interactions.  
There was no chance he’d ever want to be in a room with her after this. He probably wants nothing to do with her. 
She stumbles out of her bed and plants her feet on the ground, her head spinning a little bit as she squints her eyes. Her little stuffed bunny has fallen onto the floor again, and she picks it up and places it onto the bed next to herself. She remembers how Harry had picked the bunny up and given it to her before she fell asleep last night, like she was some little kid that he was stuck babysitting. 
Ugh. She’s never going to talk to him again. 
+++
Harry stands outside of his lecture hall, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed angrily. His eyebrows are furrowed in classic Grumpy Harry fashion and his lips are pursed in a disgruntled frown. 
He’s annoyed. 
He stares at y/n, who’s sitting on a bench not too far away. Her tote bag sits on the floor next to her feet and there’s a book in her hand, her finger in between the pages as a temporary bookmark to not lose the page she’s on. 
There’s something about her that just… annoys him so much. He can’t quite explain it.
The way her cheeks dimple as she smiles up at the guy talking to her, tucking her hair behind her ear gently when it falls into her face… it makes his jaw clench angrily as he watches her from a distance. She’s so nice. Too nice. 
She laughs at something the guy she’s talking to says and it makes his stomach feel sour. He doesn’t like it.
Blake’s hand snaps in front of Harry’s face. “Bro. Stop staring.” 
Harry forces his eyes to look away, brows still furrowed grumpily. “Wasn’t staring,” he mumbles, pushing himself off the wall and going into the lecture hall. 
“You were,” he responds, following closely behind. “She’s really nice… I dunno why you hate her.”
“Who says I hate her?” Harry scoffs. “I never talk to her.” Especially as of late, she’s quiet as a mouse around him. He was over at her apartment to pick Blake up the other day and she’d only said a quiet “hi” before scurrying back into her room, like a scared little bunny in the presence of a snake or something. 
“Well… I mean, you could be nicer.”
Harry furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”
Blake hesitates. “Like… I dunno. Maddie says you made her cry.” 
“Huh?” He thinks back to that night… “How was that my fault?” All he’d done was driven her home and tucked her into bed? She just started crying on her own!
“She’s just kind of sensitive,” says Blake. “I know you probably weren’t trying to mean, but you’re definitely not sunshine and rainbows. You’re scary, did y’know that?”
Harry rolls his eyes. Everyone seems to have this preconceived notion that Harry's this huge dick who never smiles… and though it’s true that he rarely smiles in the presence of strangers, he’s not an asshole! He just doesn’t feel like wasting his energy in pretending to like people he doesn’t actually like. Or smile when it’s much more comfortable to furrow his brows and pout grumpily. 
And he finds that usually his grumpy demeanor works in his favor – people stay out of his way, and he gets to avoid the headache that comes with interacting with people. But now this girl… this sunshine girl who always has her nose in a little book and always says please and thank you and is nice to everyone and stumbles over herself like a little puppy who's learning how to walk… she’s gone on and made him feel bad about it. 
How annoying is that? To have the nicest person on the planet think you’re scary?  
“I wasn’t trying to make her cry,” he mutters, irritated. “I didn’t even say anything to her.”
“Well maybe that’s the problem. Like… just try. I think you’ll like her.”
He doesn’t think so. She’s too nice. They probably wouldn’t get along. 
+++
There are three things y/n does a lot.
The first is studying. Her grades come first, always. She’ll be at the library for hours at a time, snuggled up in a booth with an iced coffee and her color coded notes, studying until she can barely keep her eyes open. It’s unhealthy, and she really should take breaks more often… but she just gets really nervous about her grades! 
She’s used to being at the top of her class, and has always been a straight A student.  But recently, she’s been struggling. She’s doing fine in her chemistry class, and absolutely thriving in biology. But calculus… calculus is her worst enemy.
The second thing she does a lot is reading. She’s been a bookworm for as long as she can remember. Her most frequent genre is romance (obviously!), but she’ll dabble a little bit in the popular fantasy series, maybe pick up a thriller every once in a while. And if she’s feeling sophisticated, she’ll try to read one of the classics… something philosophical, like Camus, or maybe something a little heavier, like War and Peace. But those situations are rare. She prefers her little world of romance.
The third thing that y/n does a lot… is cry. 
She’ll cry if she watches a sad movie, she’ll cry over a sad book. She cried when Finnick died in The Hunger Games, and she cried when she finished Of Mice and Men. She cries every single time she watches Pride and Prejudice (2005), sobs her eyes out when Mr. Darcy says, “You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love- I love- I love you.”
She cries if someone yells at her, and she cries if she thinks someone doesn’t like her. She cries almost every time she’s drunk (example: when Harry drove her home), and she cries in the middle of the night when she’s feeling homesick. She cries for no reason when she’s getting close to her period… and sometimes, she cries because she’s just lonely.
Now, you might be thinking… y/n sounds super annoying. But please don’t think that! That would also probably make her cry.
She’s just a tad bit sensitive! She has so many emotions in her little heart, and she’s trying so hard to be responsible and manage life as a young adult but at the end of the day she’s just a girl!!! She’s just a girl, and she’s tired and stressed out and lonely and touch deprived, and sometimes she has a hard time keeping everything together so she just… cries.
If she could control it, she would! Do you really think she wants to be crying in the library? Of course, not! It’s embarrassing, and she’s trying really hard to keep her sniffles quiet and to suck the tears back into her eyeballs… but when she’s sad, she can’t stop the tears.
So now she’s crying in the library. And it’s all because of Issac Newton.
Why did he have to invent calculus? Like, what was even the point? Why did she, as a girl studying ecology, have to take this stupid class?
She buries her face in her arms, the tears unstoppable at this point, and just hopes that anyone walking past will think she’s napping and not crying her eyes out. 
She’d studied really hard for that last midterm. Like– she’d literally been in the library for a week straight, just doing calculus problems over and over again. She went to office hours to get help on all the questions she was stuck on, and was watching the Organic Chemistry Tutor’s videos religiously. She did so much math that she was literally having dreams about doing calculus. 
And yet, even with all of her studying, she still managed to fail the midterm. Like… she seriously failed it. As in, if she doesn’t get an A on the final, she will literally have to retake the class.
She’s so sad. She’s never gotten a grade this low, ever in her life. And she’d tried so hard!!! The morning of the midterm, she’d actually felt confident! She thought she had it in the bag!
She was so, so wrong. 
She feels stupid – not just because she failed the midterm, but because she’s literally having a breakdown about it in the library. 
This is stupid. Everything is stupid. School is stupid, Issac Newton is stupid, calculus is stupid–
“Y/n?” 
Uh oh. She tries to wipe away her tears discreetly, licking her lips and clearing her throat and desperately hoping that it’s not obvious that she’s been crying. 
When she lifts her head, she finds Harry standing in front of her. “Why’re you crying?” he asks bluntly, looking down at her with his brows furrowed.
Ok. So it is obvious.
“Um,” she sniffles, “Hi Harry.” She hopes that maybe if she pretends like everything is fine, then he won’t pry any further. 
It doesn’t work.
“Why are you crying?” he asks again. There’s not much compassion or comfort in his voice. Same old grumpy Harry, so blank and impassive. 
She shrugs her shoulders, feeling small and embarrassed. “I– it’s silly,” she stammers, looking down at her fingers. 
Harry doesn’t say anything, staring at her and waiting for her to continue. 
She swallows thickly. “I failed my midterm,” she whispers, her voice catching as a new lump grows in her throat. 
“How bad?”
One lone tear falls down her face as she shakes her head disappointedly, which she wipes away quickly. “Really bad,” she whimpers. Her cheeks burn hot as she realizes that she can’t hold back the tears any longer. She quickly averts her eyes from him, staring into her lap and hoping that he can’t see her face.
This is the second time he’s seen her cry, which is two times more than she would like. He probably thinks she’s some silly, over emotional girl… probably thinks she’s so annoying. She just wants to curl up in a ball, hide in a dark hole and cry by herself. She can’t handle Harry’s judgment on top of her shitty midterm grade.  
He stands there silently for a moment. Her lower lip has pouted out cutely and he can hear her sniffling quietly. “Was it math?” he asks. 
“Yeah,” she grumbles sadly. Stupid math. 
He hums. After another tense moment he asks, “Do you want help?”
“Help with what?” She stares down at her fingers, her tone dejected. The happy glimmer that usually sparkles in her eye is gone. 
“With math,” he clarifies. “I can help you.”
She looks up at him curiously, still pouting. “You’d help me with math?”
He nods, pulling out the chair next to her. “Let me see your midterm,” he says, nodding his head towards the packet of math problems she’d just been sobbing over. Embarrassingly, the front page is stained with a few tears, but she hands it over nonetheless. 
He scans over the first page quickly, reading the question and seeing how she answered it. “Do you know why you got this one wrong?” 
She sniffles and shrugs. She hadn’t even tried to look over the questions, too mentally exhausted to even try and understand what mistakes she’d made. 
“Look. You tried to cancel out the tan3x, which would make sense in any other case… but since it’s to the power of 4 you could really easily have used integration by parts.”
“Wish I knew that before I took the fucking midterm,” she huffs.
“Hey,” he tsks. “Learn from your mistakes so that you don’t make them again. You need to know this stuff to do integral tests later.”
She shakes her head. “I tried so hard, Harry,” she barely whispers, her voice exhausted. “Like I studied so much, and I really really tried to make it all make sense. But it’s just so hard for me.” She sniffles and wipes away more tears, taking a shaky breath and looking away from Harry. 
She doesn’t want to try anymore. She just wants to give up.
He purses his lips, brows furrowed. There’s something about seeing y/n upset that just feels so wrong. She usually brings so much… light into a room. Seeing her cry makes it seem like the entire universe has gotten a little sadder. 
“You’ve got the right idea when you’re solving these…” he tries to comfort her (though he’s never really been good at comforting people), “It’s just little things that you’re doing wrong. And it’s probably because you’ve got a shit professor who just has you copy down problems.”
“That’s literally all we do!” she whines, not even caring if she sounds like a baby. “He does the problems so fast and then I have to go home and try and figure out how he did it all by myself!” She sniffles and puts her head in her hands, more tears dropping from her eyelashes. She’s exhausted, her head starting to hurt as she exhales a shuddery breath. 
He lets her cry a little bit. “Listen,” he says gently, turning to face her. The normal furrow in his brow is gone, his gaze a little bit softer. “Next time you come over with Maddie, bring your notes and we can go over them together, okay?”
She sniffles. “Seriously?”
“Yes.” 
“Like actually?”
“Yes,” he says again exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. He stands up from the table and puts her midterm back down in front of her. “Lighten up, sunshine. One bad score is not the end of the world.” 
She feels a bit silly now that Harry’s witnessed her having another breakdown in the library. But, despite how little he said… he actually helped her calm down. This was not the end of the world. 
“Okay,” she whispers, “thanks, Harry.” 
He nods and walks away. 
Maybe he doesn’t hate her, she thinks to herself. 
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“I’m going out,” Maddie says as she walks into the kitchen, discarding her half full coffee mug on the counter as she grabs her car keys from the hook in front of the door. 
“Your mug!” y/n tuts like a mother. Maddie rolls her eyes as she pours the last of her coffee down the sink and puts the mug in the dishwasher. Y/n ignores the dramatic eye roll, knowing that Maddie’s just playing around, and asks, “Where are you going?”
“Over to Blake’s,” she responds with a wink. She’s been telling y/n about how she’s been waiting for Blake to text her all week because she doesn’t want to be the one texting first all the time… weird situation-ship stuff that y/n’s never experienced before. Seems like he finally texted her, with how excited Maddie is to be going over. 
Just as Maddie is about to step out the door, y/n remembers Harry’s offer. He’d been serious, right? He hadn’t just said that because she was crying… right? She really hopes not, because she really could use his help. She’d been up for hours last night, trying to do the homework, but ultimately giving up because she got too frustrated with herself. Maybe… maybe he’d be able to help her?
“Wait!” y/n calls out, “Um… can I come with you?”
Maddie raises an eyebrow, “Why do you want to come over to Blake’s apartment?”
Y/n turns a bit shy, “Harry… he’s, um, helping me with math.”
“Harry?” Maddie’s eyes glimmer curiously. “He’s literally such a dick. He’s helping you?”
“He’s not that bad…” y/n mumbles, remembering the ounce of kindness he’d shown to her in the library the other day. He’s just a little bit… reserved, she’s started to realize.
“Please. He literally never smiles. I dunno how you got him to talk to you, he always ignores me when I’m over.” 
(Honestly, she doesn’t blame Harry for not talking to Maddie… she sometimes ignores Maddie in her own apartment too…)
“You have two minutes to meet me in the car or I’m leaving without you!”
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With her schoolbag in hand, y/n taps lightly on Harry’s door. Blake had told her to just go in, but she feels like that’s rude, so she stands in front of his door nervously and waits patiently for him to open. 
“What?” he grunts, opening his bedroom door. “Oh.” The furrow in his brow softens the slightest bit when he sees it’s y/n. He’d thought it was Blake bugging him about something. Y/n is a much… nicer surprise. 
“Hi,” she says, chewing on the inside of her lip nervously. “I was wondering if… um, you could help me out with my calc stuff?” 
He stares at her for a second, then says, “yeah.” 
He opens the door wider and she follows him in. His room is messy, but not gross. The bed is unmade, three half full water bottles on his nightstand, and there’s a pair of sweatpants on the floor… but at least it doesn’t stink!
His computer screen is paused mid-game, and she realizes that he’d still been holding his controller when he’d opened up the door for her. He throws a jacket that had been thrown on the back of his chair onto the bed, and motions for her to sit. Then he pulls up another chair that was sitting in the corner of his room to sit next to her. 
“Let’s see it,” he says, shutting down his computer. 
“So…” she takes her laptop out of her bag, setting it down on his desk and turning it on so that she can open up her homework assignment. While it loads, she unlocks her ipad to the scratch work she’d done last night. “I was trying to do the homework last night, and I think I’m supposed to be doing integration by parts but honestly I’m not even sure how to do that… so I’m kind of lost.” 
Harry leans over her ipad and looks at the work she’d done. It’s… wrong. 
“Can I see your notes for integration by parts?” He asks, trying to figure out how she ended up with 1 as her answer when it should be a much larger, much more complicated mix of trig and integrals. She scrolls up until she lands on a page titled Chapter 7, and points to the second example on the problem. Her notes are cute, written in pink with girlish, bubbly handwriting. However, it’s clear that she’d been struggling to keep up with the lecture, some of her work completely scribbled out and replaced with messy numbers and formulas. Next to one of the big portions of scribbled out math, she's written “WHAT???” along with a sad face doodled underneath it.
Clearly she’s a bit confused. 
“Okay…” he scrolls down to a new page in her digital notebook and copies down the example problem that had confused her. “Let me show you how you do integration by parts first, and then we’ll look at the homework problem, okay?”
“M’kay,” she hums compliantly, crossing her legs and hiding her hands in her sleeves. She feels a bit… nervous. She doesn’t want Harry to think she’s stupid. But she’d rather have her ego a little bruised than fail the next midterm too. 
“So… you do integration by parts when you can’t just do normal integration… usually if there’s e^x in there or a natural log then you know that you have to do integration by parts.” 
She nods, following along quietly. 
“In this one… you have x times e^x dx… you have to break it up into two parts, U and dV. And then you take the derivative of U and find the integral of dV. And you plug that into the formula. Do you know the formula?”
She blinks at him. “Um…” she shuffles through her notes and finds it. “It’s this.” 
“Good… so what you do is you assign x to either U or dV and then e^x(dx) to the other… and then you find dU and V based off of that. Should we make x be U or dV?”
She purses her lips, “Make x=U?”
“Yes…” he nods. “Do you know why?” 
She shrugs. “I guessed.” 
His lip quirks up in the first smile y/n’s ever seen from him, a slight dimple popping up in his cheek. “S’cos we have to either find the derivative of U, or find the integral of dV. It’s way easier to use the derivative of x, cause it’s just one. If we made x equal to dV… then we’d add a fraction and a power of two to our equation and it’ll just make things ugly.”
“Oh.” She stares at his hands as he writes down what he just said in math terms, scribbling in his boyish handwriting that U=x and dU=1. “Okay.”
“So if U=x, then dV is equal to….”
“e^x?” she answers. 
“Good,” he says gently. “And what is V?”
She stays silent for a moment, searching the paper as if it’ll give her an answer. He senses her confusion and helps her out, saying, “IF V is the integral of dV, and dV is e^x…” 
“Well Isn’t the integral of e^x still e^x?” Her voice is unconfident, looking up at Harry with wide, round eyes.
“You’re right,” he says encouragingly, a soft smile on his face. “Stop doubting yourself so much.”
A reciprocating smile spreads on her face, feeling a little more confident with Harry’s praise. 
“All you do now is put your numbers into the formula. Can you do it?”
He hands the pen over to her, their fingers brushing. Her hair falls in front of her face as she leans over the page to write down her answer, and Harry watches softly as she tucks it back behind her ear. He notices how long and delicate her eyelashes are as he stares at her side profile.
“Is that right?” she asks quietly, trying hard to be confident but still so nervous that she’s done it wrong.
He tears his eyes away from her face. “Almost,” he says, leaning forward. Their arms brush against each other, the space that they initially had set between their chairs having shrunk as they worked on the problem together. She can feel his breath as he quietly murmurs next to her ear, “You just need to add +C at the end.” 
She furrows her eyebrows and turns her head towards him, and feels her heart stutter as she realizes how close their faces actually are. “What does the +C mean?”
“It’s just like… it’s supposed to represent any constants that we couldn’t find. Because when you take the derivative of a constant it just ends up being zero, so when you’re given an integral and doing the anti-differential process… you don’t know if there was actually a constant there or what it was. So the +C is just representing any constant value that could’ve been in the answer, even though you don’t know what the number is.”
She blinks at him. “Um… okay. I’ll just pretend like that made sense.”
He chuckles, the first time she’s probably ever heard him laugh. “It’s honestly not that important to get it. Just remember to add +C every time you take an integral.”
“Got it…” she says, adding the +C. 
“Think you can do the next one on your own?” 
+++
“Harry,” y/n pouts. “It says I’m wrong but I dunno why.” 
He pauses his game and slides out of his seat, going over to y/n. She’d relocated to his bed after they did a couple more problems together and felt confident enough to do the rest by herself. His chest brushing against her back softly as he leans over her shoulder, going over her work. “What’s the integral of sin(x)?”
“Cos(x),” she says confidently.
“Not quite…”
She sits there for a second, brows furrowed. “Oh!” she adds a negative in front of the cos(x).
“There you go,” he grins down at her. 
She lays down on his bed, her hair splaying out behind her as she throws her ipad on his bed, relieved. “Harry. You’re a genius.” 
He laughs, a quiet huff of air that passes out of his nose with an amused smile on his face. “So it makes sense?”
“I think you should be teaching our class. You’re so good. Thank you for helping me.”
He hums, giving her a satisfied smirk, and goes back to his game while she finishes her homework. It's a strange setup, sitting in his bed and doing her homework while he plays, but she doesn’t mind it. 
In fact, it’s kind of nice.
Harry’s kind of nice.
She kind of likes Harry.
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hope u guys loved it!!!!!! part 2 is up on my patreon already, and will come to tumblr next saturday (july 29) pleeeeaaaase lmk what u rhink and give her a rb and a comment i love u guys so so much!!!
sunshine - part 2 (already posted on patreon!) : In which Harry's a little bit nicer, and y/n is very excited to possibly, hopefully, maybe be kissed.
sunshine masterlist
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atlafan · 1 year
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figure au is coming along nicely 🤪
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gurugirl · 2 months
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Next Door Neighbors
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Summary: You just wanted peace and quiet and Harry just wanted to jam out in his garage for his birthday. So you decide to confront your new neighbor but things don't go as you planned.
A/N: Here it is! Sorry I didn't get it out earlier but it's here now! Enjoy this little 🎈 Harry Styles Happy Birthday Treat 🎈xoxo
Word Count: 7.8k
Warning: 18+ only, smut
It was the perfect house with the perfect backyard in the perfect neighborhood. You’d hit the jackpot. Your first big girl purchase. A house with a lovely garden, two bedrooms, a lovely little kitchen with the perfect rays of light that shone in through the big windows all morning. And the neighborhood was nice and quiet where you could enjoy your weekends in peace reading to your heart’s content.
It was a huge upgrade from the apartment life you endured for years while you saved up for just this thing. And you’d finally found it. Things seemed to be coming together for you in life finally.
On Friday after you got off work, Zoya called, asking if you wanted to go out with the girls but you politely declined, “I’m just gonna stay in I think. I hope you don’t mind. Maybe next weekend, Zo.”
You had a bottle of wine tucked under your arm as you held your cell phone to your ear on your way to the checkout lane at the little neighborhood market a few blocks from your house. Your new house. The one with your name on the mortgage.
Your plan was to drink a little wine in your cute new backyard and read a book, just taking in the peace of your new place.
You turned on the twinkle lights over your back porch (your dad had helped you put them up into the trees) and sat down in your outdoor lounge chair with a glass of wine and the book you’d been looking forward to reading. The sun had just gone down and you could hear crickets. A perfect Friday night, in your opinion.
That is until you were twenty pages into your book and suddenly the loud racket of what sounded like obnoxiously loud live music playing from next door had you closing your book and standing up to investigate.
The closer you got the more you could hear the unmistakable sound of a live band playing, the pop of a snare drum, the trill of a guitar... You looked over the wood fence into the driveway of your neighbor’s home and couldn’t see much but you saw lights on inside of the garage and the loud ruckus of a homemade instrumental band.
You didn’t want to be one of those neighbors. One of those awful people who complained about everything their neighbors did. But this was ridiculous. It seemed they had no regard for any of the people that lived around them.
Walking back to what was supposed to be your little oasis you sat down and grumped to yourself about how rude some people could be. You’d give them one hour until you went over there and told them in person to lower the noise.
You’d only been living in your little house for a few days and this was your first Friday night. You had really been looking forward to a peaceful night at home. Not even your second glass of wine could calm you down.
You didn’t know why you were so mad about it. In your apartment, you were bombarded with noise from all the neighbors who shared a wall with you and the loud heard of elephants that lived above you.
But this? It was meant to be your sanctuary. Your place of solitude.
But you’d had it. When an hour had passed and you paced around your backyard getting up the nerve to walk over there you huffed and psyched yourself up as you made your way into the front yard of your neighbor’s house and could see three men inside the wide open garage. A drummer pounding away, and two men standing – one with a guitar and another with a bass.
You stepped into the driveway and clutched your cardigan closer to your chest as you appeared at the threshold of the garage and the music abruptly stopped when the tall one with dark curls laid his eyes on you.
“Hi. You’re the new neighbor,” he raised his hand from the neck of the guitar he had slung over his shoulder and smiled.
You instantly no longer were raging with anger when you heard his voice and realized this was the man you’d seen briefly the morning before as he got into his car. You imagined he was attractive but not this attractive. Tattoos along one arm, thick curls, plush pink lips, dimples…
“Uh… yeah. I just moved in next door a few days ago.” You looked behind yourself and back toward the men before continuing, “I was hoping you guys could–“
Your voice was cut off by the clash of a symbol then the hit of a snare before the drummer tapped his sticks together, “We’re in the middle of something here in case you didn’t see.”
“Hey… chill. Don’t be rude man,” the curly-headed man with the guitar shot a look at the drummer before looking back at you, “What were you saying? Sorry.”
You shifted on your feet, “I was wondering if you guys could keep it down. It’s so loud and it’s all I can hear while I’m trying to read.”
The guy with the bass guitar spoke, “Oh come on, lady. We hardly ever get to do this.”
Your neighbor began removing his guitar, lifting the strap over his head as he looked at the other two, “Let’s call it a night guys. That’s enough.”
The other two began to grumble as they packed away their things and your neighbor stepped out of the garage in front of you with his hand held out to you, “I’m Harry.”
You smiled and placed your palm against his, “Y/n.”
The drummer came up beside Harry, “Today’s his birthday you know. The only thing he wanted today was to jam out for a bit.”
Your eyes widened as you looked at Harry, “Oh. I didn’t know. I’m sorry… you–“
“Don’t worry about it. We had a good hour. I’m beat anyway. Long week at work.”
The bassist gave Harry a side hug, “I’m gonna head home. See you later, okay? Happy birthday, dude.”
“Oh. I should leave. I’m really sorry again,” you waved as you began to back away.
But Harry stepped in toward you, “Stick around for a minute okay?”
The drummer followed suit, bidding Harry a happy birthday and then getting into his car to drive away as you stood awkwardly at the edge of the garage until it was just you and Harry.
“I’m sorry. I feel really bad that they left. And it’s your birthday too? I’ll… do you want a bottle of wine or something? Let me grab you a bottle as a gift and an apology…”
Harry grinned at you and shook his head, “Mind if I come with you? I’d love to see the inside of the house. Never got the chance to see it before. That can be your birthday gift to me.”
You noted the smirk on his face, his confident posture, and then you realized he had crystalline green eyes. Something in the way he was looking at you gave you those ridiculous butterflies in your tummy.
“Yeah. Of course, Harry.” You turned and he followed behind you as you led him into your backyard, closing the gate behind yourself.
“This is the backyard. I’m gonna put in some flowers over there,” you pointed, “And maybe do something with the porch at some point.”
Harry looked around the backyard briefly before he put his gaze back on you as you opened up your door to let him inside. You were sure you were insane to be letting your neighbor, whom you did not know, into our house with you alone at night, but you only live once, isn’t that what they say?
“Kitchen,” you gestured your hand and then moved through into the living room where Harry trailed behind you and looked around.
“It’s nice. I like how big the windows are. Always was jealous of how big they are compared to mine.”
You looked up at him and smiled, “It’s one of the reasons I bought the place. The window in the kitchen overlooking the backyard kind of sealed the deal for me. Lots of great light comes in for most of the day.”
“I bet it does,” he kept his eyes on you and your tummy was still fluttering about.
“Over here is the bedroom,” you flipped on the switch, “It’s got its own full bathroom. Tiny but I like it.” You turned to move down the hall and flipped on the switch to the hallway bathroom, “Another bathroom, here,” and then moved to the final door, pushing it open to an empty room, “And at some point, I’ll furnish this. It’ll be like an office, guest room sort of thing.”
You turned off the light and looked back at Harry who was standing right behind you.
“Thank you, for showing me around.”
You felt your face warm up as you looked at him. You liked how he said your name. Liked how his lips moved around his words when he spoke.
“Of course. Um… do you want any wine? I was a glass and a half into a bottle if you want to finish it with me?”
That was an easy yes from Harry. You brought your glass in from outside and pulled out a clean one for your neighbor before pouring a bit of the burgundy liquid inside for him.
“Happy birthday, Harry,” you held your glass out to him and he tapped the edge of his glass to yours, “Sorry that I ruined it, though. I kind of feel awful.”
Harry shook his head, “Don’t be sorry. Like I said, it was a long week at work and we had a good hour anyway. Plus this is nice. Getting to know my neighbor,” he took a sip of his wine.
“How old are you today?” You took a sip of your wine as you watched him.
“30,” he sighed, “Grown adult officially.” He smiled.
You laughed at his remark and nodded, “Yes, 30 marks the official entry into adulthood. That’s my belief as well.”
You really liked Harry. He was easy to talk to and you decided he made you feel very comfortable.
“So, you’re a musician?” You raised your brows.
He shook his head and chuckled, “Well, I like to sing and play instruments. I’m not really great or anything. Just a hobby. Used to be in a band in college but then I realized I had to get a real job and figure out how to pay my bills and get along in life.”
You leaned your bottom into your kitchen counter and smiled at him, “Oh yeah. I know all about that. Would be nice if we could make good money just doing our hobbies so we didn’t have to get real jobs,” you laughed, “What do you do for work?”
“I’m an electrical contractor. Have a small business with three employees. It’s hard work but it pays well. Most of the time.”
You smiled. He continued to get more attractive the more he talked and the more you learned. It didn’t hurt that you could tell he was in incredibly great shape as well. He was tall, his shoulders were broad and his shirt stretched tightly over the lats at his back and hung loosely where his waist was, indicating a nice healthy build and upper body strength. His arms were lean muscle and even his thighs filled out the tops of his jeans so you understood it wasn’t just his upper body that was well-muscled.
You heard Harry chuckle as you darted your eyes back up to his. You’d been caught checking him out. You hadn’t meant to let your eyes scrape down his frame but… well. Here you were.
“And what do you do, Y/n?”
Harry kept his sight on you as he sipped from his glass. His sultry gaze was doing things to your hormones and making your heart pump a little harder behind your ribcage.
“I’m the general manager at SpendCo,” you laughed and shrugged, “Not a fancy job but I like it. Good benefits. Was able to save up for this place,” you gestured your hand around the kitchen.
“My job’s not fancy either,” Harry laughed, “But yeah. It’s steady work. A good paycheck.”
You nodded. You could relate in some ways. You’d gone to school for business but wound up working your way up from the bottom at SpendCo. When you started you were making just over minimum wage as a cashier, but now you worked in the office, Monday through Friday (no more weekends for you) and had shift managers and employees working under you. It felt good to be the boss.
“Wanna sit in the living room? Couch is brand new. In fact, I’ve hardly even had the chance to sit in it myself.”
“Yeah. Let’s break that couch in, Y/n,” Harry grinned as he nudged you with his shoulder.
Oh?
You laughed at his comment but decided to not take it the way you imagined he meant. Of course, he obviously meant just sitting on it and breaking it in that way. Certainly, there were no innuendos behind his words.
You didn’t have a proper coffee table yet so you pulled an empty bin with a lid to the front of the couch, “We’ll use this to put our glasses on. Still not done decorating or buying things I need, as you can tell.”
Harry sat his glass down on the plastic lid of the bin and pointed at your stereo setup next to the TV, “Can I put on some music?”
“Yeah, sure,” you smiled as you took another sip of your wine and watched your handsome neighbor get up and turn on your stereo and speakers. He pulled his phone from his back pocket and searched for the Bluetooth to connect and a song began to play over your speakers.
“Like Chris Isaak?” Harry asked as he sat down on the couch, right next to you, his knee knocking into yours.
“Yeah… I think. I’ve heard this song before anyway,” you smiled as you looked down at your thighs.
Harry leaned his back into the cushion and you felt him shifting next to you, his arm propped up on the back of the seat behind you.
“So where did you live before you moved in here?”
You turned your head to look at him before placing your eyes safely on the plastic bin, “In an apartment over in Roger’s Park. Nice little neighborhood. But I hated living in an apartment. Lugging groceries up three flights of stairs every time I went shopping. I mean I got used to it but still…” you laughed.
“Oh yeah. I know what you mean. I used to live in an apartment too. Actually also in Roger’s Park… but that was like five years ago.”
You peeked at him with your brows raised, “Yeah? You lived in Roger’s Park too? What area?”
“Off Grand near the big bus terminal.”
“Wait. For real? At Sheraton Oaks?”
Harry furrowed his brows and squinted, “Yes. Shit. Is that where you lived?”
“It is. 3rd floor. Apartment 10.”
Harry turned his body toward you, his thigh flush against yours, “No fucking way, Y/n. I lived in apartment 10,” he pointed his thumb at himself with a wide surprised grin on his face.
You shook your head and looked at him in disbelief, “That’s wild. How funny that two people who used to live in the same apartment at different times became next-door neighbors. What are the chances?”
Harry laughed, “Seems quite unlikely in such a big city.”
You and Harry sat facing one another in amazement as a new song came on.
“You okay?” Harry’s pupils ran over your features and you saw him looking at your lips as he poked his tongue out to wet his own.
“Yeah. Why?”
Harry softly smiled as he lifted his hand to your face and you felt the pad of his thumb press into your cheek, “You’re biting the inside of your cheeks. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t nervous or something.”
You puffed out a laugh and shook your head, “No. I’m not nervous. Sometimes I chew on the inside of my cheeks. Bad habit.”
Harry nodded shallowly with his eyes on you but he didn’t respond. Instead, he reached for his glass and took a sip of wine.
“So… um…” you glanced at him and shot your eyes to his hand that held the stem of the glass. His hands were nice and big and you noticed he had his nails painted, alternating blue and yellow.
“So, um… What? What were you gonna say?”
You gulped and forced yourself to look into his eyes. He was so handsome and you were beginning to get hot all over. He was too close (not that that was a bad thing), his thigh was solid against yours, and his eyes were drawing something out of you. He was alluring.
“I don’t…” you shook your head, “Forgot what I was gonna say.”
Harry pulled his lips into his mouth, a muted grin on his face as you watched dimples carve into his cheeks. Like he knew what you were thinking.
“I like this sweater,” he gestured toward your cardigan and you looked down at it. It was knitted with a cat playing with a ball of yarn on the left side.
“My aunt bought it for me for Christmas last year,” you smiled and as you brought your eyes up you noticed he was wearing a necklace but you couldn’t see the whole thing as it was tucked under his t-shirt.
He pulled at a button on your cardigan and cocked his head as he looked at you, “Are you sure you’re okay, Y/n? Do you want me to leave?”
Your eyes widened, “Oh no. This is nice. I… I’m okay. Honestly.”
“Okay. You just seem a little frazzled. Want to make sure I’m not doing anything that’s making you uncomfortable.”
You shook your head, “No. You’re great. You haven’t done anything to make me uncomfortable.” You bit your bottom lip into your mouth and tried to give off an air of calm and confidence like Harry was but he was something else. He was so incredibly attractive and the eye contact was making you slowly melt. You couldn’t help but let your mind wander to what it would be like to kiss him.
He grinned, one side of his mouth pulling upward, “I see.”
You watched as he took a deep breath and placed his wine glass back down before looking back into your eyes, “So, um… can I ask you a personal question?”
You nodded, “Yeah. Sure.”
“Do you have a boyfriend or…?”
Your brows raised upward, “Oh. Uh, no. No boyfriend,” you put your hands into your lap and fiddled with your fingers, “And, uh… you? Significant other?”
A breathy laugh fell from his chest as he shook his head, “Nope.” He popped the p as he responded.
You nodded and looked down at the hand that he’d placed over his thigh. His pinky was pressed into your leg. You were sure he was giving you some kind of signal. All the signs were there. His body language, eye contact, asking you about a boyfriend, and the nearness of him… He was so close you could smell the soap he used.
“Mmm…” you racked your brain to think of anything to say, “How long have you lived here?”
He licked his lips again, “Five years. Moved out of Sheraton Oaks and then bought the house next door.”
You smiled, “So that means I moved in right after you moved out.”
Harry slowly moved his hand further toward your leg and you felt his pinky and ring finger press into your leggings before subtly bending his pinky finger out to rub the fabric under his digit, “Sounds like we have a lot in common.”
“Yeah. Guess so,” you gave him a weak smile and looked down at his hand.
“Am I overstepping?”
You shook your head and looked up at him.
“No? What about if I kissed you? Is that too much?”
Your breath caught in your lungs as you kept your eyes pinned to his and shook your head again.
“No, it’s not too much? Or no you don’t want me to kiss you?”
You swallowed and your heart bounced around in your chest so wildly you could almost hear it, “No, it’s not too much.”
The smile on Harry’s face was soft as he looked from your eyes to your mouth, “It’s okay then? You don’t mind the birthday boy stealing a kiss from his cute neighbor?”
That pulled a laugh from you just as he hoped it would, “I’d like that I think.”
Harry slid his free hand up to the side of your neck, his thumb at the base of your jaw close to your ear, “Last chance to say no.”
You laughed again and placed your palm over the top of his hand that had fully moved over your thigh, “Kiss me.”
The slow movement of his face toward yours, the nudge of his nose to your skin, hot puffs of breath spreading over your cheek, soft lips brushing against the edge of your mouth, before he finally pressed his smooth pink lips against yours was alchemic. Something about him, about the way he handled himself and spoke to you and devoured you with his eyes… But with his mouth against yours, his thumb softly rubbing at your jaw, and his hand moving to fit his fingers between yours as he kept it pressed over your thigh you felt electrified.
And he tasted like mint and smelled like soap and his lips were smooth and moist against yours. Your Friday night had already turned out far better than you imagined it would.
Yeah. Making out on your new couch in your new house with your new neighbor was way better.
You slid the palm of your free hand up his shoulder and to the nape of his neck as his own grip on the side of your neck and jaw tightened the slightest.
But your mind was on his mouth. The heat coming from his touch. The way his tongue slid through your lips to beckon them open…
Harry pulled at your hand and urged you toward his lap. Parting your legs you sat down over the spread of his thighs, settling yourself as close to him as possible.
He slid his hands up your thighs and you felt ravenous. It was as if sitting in his lap made it so much more real. He was moving things along and you were keeping pace.
You pressed your tongue against his and softly rocked your hips down. As your pelvis tilted against Harry, he moaned into your mouth and it was the hottest thing you’d ever heard.
“Fuck. You still good?” He parted from the kiss, keeping his nose bumped against yours.
You breathed out a yes as you nodded and when you lifted your face your lips brushed against his and it started all over again. Lips smothered over lips and tongues wetly dragging against tongues.
Harry��s hands inched up to your hips and you pressed your fingers into the back of his neck, feeling his pulse, steady and strong under your skin.
He lapped over your bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth and then dropped his cushiony lips down to your jaw, peppering damp kisses under the space of your chin and over your neck.
You loved having your neck kissed. Not just loved it… you craved it. The feel of a man’s breath and mouth and tongue and nose against your pulse point and the delicate skin that wrapped over blood pumping through your arteries had your skin tingling.
Another rock of your hips down and you felt the obvious swell of something growing under his jeans. He hissed and you backed away from his mouth, not knowing if his sharp inhale was from pain or if he liked the slide of the fabric over your crotch pressing against him.
When you looked at his eyes he was a different man. His pupils had widened and his plush pink lips were wet and parted, nostrils taking in air heavily as you felt his fingers dig into your hips.
“Did I hurt you?” You brought one of your hands toward his jaw feeling the light scruff along the bone under your knuckles.
He shook his head, “No. Not at all. But I do need to reposition.”
You looked down between your bodies and moved back on his thighs to give him space but before your brain could connect to your motions you were reaching down for his button to unpluck from the thick jean fabric. He gently lifted his hips as you unzipped his pants and then you looked at him as you pushed the bottom hem of his shirt upward over the band of his underwear.
“You wanna help?” He spoke breathily as you nodded and pulled the elastic away from his skin with one hand and used the other to reach under the fabric. It was sparse hair and skin and then and then denser hair and warmth until you felt him tucked awkwardly to the side against his pelvis.
The small coo that fell from your mouth was involuntary as you wrapped your hand around him. Hot and thick in your hand. He inhaled sharply again when he felt your palm on his cock as you helped guide him upright.
Your breath was unsteady and shallow as you kept your eyes on Harry’s, “God, Harry.”
“What?” His teasing smirk gave away that he knew what. He knew his cock was big and watching your reaction to that was pleasing.
You gulped and peeked down at it, your hand still holding the fabric away from his hips. A swollen, smooth ruddy colored tip that matched the pink of his lips. The length of which pushed out from the top of the band and sat perfectly in between two fern tattoos at his hips along the bare part of his skin.
“It’s…” you looked back up at him, “It’s nice.”
Harry breathed out a laugh, “Nice? Why thank you.” He grinned.
But then you felt his fingers slide under your t-shirt, pushing the fabric up slowly until his skin was pressed into your sides. It felt like he was urging you to remove your shirt so you did. Pulling your cardigan off first you let it fall to the floor at Harry’s feet before you peeled your t-shirt off.
Harry was surprised to see you weren’t wearing a bra. It had been easy enough to hide under the knitted sweater you figured, so you never put a bra on when you went to confront him earlier. And of course, you weren’t wearing one. It was meant to be a quiet Friday night in. There had been no need.
He pushed his hands up your sides until his fingers were wrapped around your ribs with his thumbs pressing into the soft plump underside of your tits.
You watched him take you in. Your nipples were straining and goosebumps littered your flesh as he ghosted his thumbs along the sensitive tissue.
It felt like so much. You had never done anything remotely sexual with someone you didn’t know. But Harry was hot and you were turned on. So much so that you could feel the dampness in your panties.
You reached back to his chest, pulling at his shirt. You wanted to see more. Wanted to know what he looked like underneath it all. You knew he was fit. And you were positive there were more tattoos hidden away under the material of his shirt.
With his eyes on yours, he moved his hands away from your breasts and pulled his shirt off, taking the back and bringing it over his head at the front. You got a glimpse of the necklace he wore. A white gold cross that slapped against his chest when it caught on the fabric of his shirt as he removed it.
You had been right. His body was defined and strong. Bulky muscular pecs and toned abs. Inked skin from his clavicle to the butterfly under his pectorals and down to the ferns, where his cock poked out of the top of his underwear.
Pressing your palms over his pecs you smoothed your hands down over his nipples and to the butterfly tattoo underneath.
Harry put his hands on your hips again while you admired his torso and you felt his fingers dip under the waistband of your dark-colored tights. Another signal. A question seeking approval for more.
Drawing your eyes up to his you put your hands over his fingers and pushed the material down with him.
Of course, sitting in his lap hindered too much movement but he understood your hint as he pushed you up by your hips and you found yourself being moved off of his lap to your back on the couch.
“Still good, Y/n?” He looked at you with those dark pupils, an air of respectful authority. He made your skin boil.
You nodded, “I’m good.”
Harry began to pull at the stretchy fabric, bringing it down your hips and over your thighs til your knees were free and then he lifted your legs so he could get the leggings off your feet.
When your pants were on the floor, he still had your legs held upward, one hand at the back of your ankles and you peered down at him indulging in the sight of your skin at the back of your thighs and down to your bottom covered in your panties.
You saw a grin on his face as he brought your legs down before he stood up and pulled his jeans off his legs.
His body was so strong and masculine. He could easily dominate you, the thought briefly crossed your mind as you watched the muscles in his arms flex, his abs clench, and the sinew on his powerful-looking thighs bulge as he steadied himself one leg at a time until his jeans were off and he was only clad in his underwear with dark inky designs on his skin and even on his thigh.
He kneed himself down onto the couch, hovering over you as you naturally spread your legs to allow him space between your thighs.
And the feel of his hard shaft pressing over your mound before his lips dropped down to yours once again had you dazed. It almost didn’t feel real.
“So fucking hot, Y/n…” he whispered against your lips, “Made me so hard.”
You gasped when he rocked himself down over you, fabric rubbing against fabric until your arousal had seeped through your panties and began wetting his underwear.
He moaned and parted from this kiss, “You’re all wet.” He slid himself upward and then back with a grin. “You like that?”
You nodded with a moan.
“Yeah? What else do you want, Y/n? Hm? Want to get rid of these panties?”
You moved your shaky hands down your hips and pushed at the fabric to bring them down. All you wanted was him. Your hormones were screaming at you and all you could think about was his big cock and how it would feel sliding inside of you.
Harry laughed at how enthusiastic you seemed and moved back to help you remove your panties, “Okay. We can get these off. Mind if I lose my underwear too?”
You sat up and reached for the band of his briefs as he began to push them down until he was completely bare before you.
His cock hung heavy outward, pointing toward you, like it was beckoning to be touched so you did, reaching for him and taking your palm from his tip to his base until your hand hit the dark thatch of hair and then pulled back up to his smooth head.
“I want it. Want to feel it, Harry.” You looked at him as you pumped him again.
He groaned as he watched your small hand move along his length.
“Do you have a condom?”
You swallowed and paused your motions. You definitely did not have a condom. Which was quite unfortunate because that could only mean sex was not going to happen unless he had one and was willing to go to his house to get it.
Shaking your head no you frowned.
Harry licked his lips and trailed his eyes over your tits and down your tummy, “S’okay. Plenty of other ways to have fun.”
You whined as you looked down at your hand. You had really wanted to feel that big thing wrecking your insides.
Harry took your chin and tilted your face to look up at him, “What’s wrong?”
You inhaled and let go of his pretty dick, “I wanted to feel you so bad.”
He pressed his mouth against yours, soft reassuring kisses had your heart strumming in your chest.
“Well I would hate to disappoint you,” he grinned, “Want to go to mine? I’ve got condoms. We’ll just have to put some clothes back on.”
You nodded and pushed yourself up, quickly pulling your cardigan on and slipping your leggings back up your legs.
Harry liked how desperate you seemed. That was quite the ego boost. He put his shirt back on and pulled his jeans up but left the zipper down as he clutched the fabric to keep it up.
“Guess that’s good enough for breaking your couch in, yeah?”
You laughed and nodded, “Was a good first use for it I think.”
Harry laughed as he took your hand and you two made your way out your front door to his, hurrying over grass under bare feet and small chuckles until you were in the safety and privacy of his living room. He kept your hand in his until he got to his bedroom where he pulled his shirt off and you followed suit, ridding yourself of the annoying clothing you’d had to put back on.
But you knew it was going to be worth it.
Harry dug into his bedside table for a condom and laid it on top of the wood before looking back at you, “You still want this?”
You nodded and climbed onto his bed. The tunnel vision you had was keeping your mind from wandering too far off course as you watched Harry stroke his cock, long pulls up and down to his base as he crawled after you onto his bed.
You easily opened up your legs for him to fit his hips between and felt his warm cock slipping through your folds, rubbing against your clit.
“So slippery, Y/n.” You knew you were as he drove himself over your labia, smoothing his cock against your arousal back and forth.
A shaky moan fell from your throat and Harry grinned as he smeared his lips against your mouth.
He worked himself up and down, wetting the outside of his cock and his tip as he inched through your pussylips smoothly.
You loved his mouth. Loved how he kissed you. It was raw and felt like he gave a damn. Felt like he was enjoying your mouth just as much as you enjoyed his.
Finally, he pushed himself back and reached for his condom looking at you, “Do want anything else first? Or do just want my cock?”
You looked down at his hard dick with your arousal spread all over him and it was all you wanted.
“I want your cock,” your words were breathy as you looked up into his eyes.
“Yeah? A greedy little thing aren’t you?” Harry began to pull the condom over his shaft, pinching the tip as he dragged the rubber down as far as it would reach before settling himself back against your hips, pushing your thighs back slightly, “So desperate for it,” he nudged his cock down against your pussy and then slid it up to your clit teasingly, “Couldn’t wait to have me inside you. Insisted on it even,” he grinned as he tormented you with his wide girth slipping back and forth against your cunt.
You tilted your hips up and groaned, trying to get him to push inside but he continued his taunting movements, “Now, now… so impatient. I’ll give you what you want soon enough sweetheart. But today’s my birthday so I get to control the pace. Don’t want you getting all bossy with me.”
You moaned and slid your hands over his shoulders as you rolled your hips upward again, kissing his slit with your entrance but this time he placed a hand over your thigh and held you in place, “Is it that bad, Y/n?”
You nodded, “Please, Harry.”
“Mmm… love a well-mannered lady. You gonna be good for me?”
You sighed and you would have rolled your eyes if you weren’t so horny, so out of your mind desperate, “I’m gonna be good. Please.”
“Yeah? Cause once I slide inside of you there’s no turning back.”
You gripped his shoulders tight and groaned, “Please.”
The feel of his warm, heavy cock smeared against your clit was almost too much. In fact, you could probably come from that alone if given enough time.
“So sweet for me, Y/n,” Harry took the thigh he’d been holding down and brought your leg over his low back, smoothing his hand over your skin as he positioned himself at your entrance.
The moment you felt him pressing his bulbous head through your slick muscle you dropped your mouth open and moaned but then his mouth caught yours and the noises you were making became muffled as he moved his lips against your mouth.
You knew he was going to split you in half. The slow glide of his cock inside your warm walls was intense. Inch by inch he pushed in as his lips were wrapped around yours.
Holding onto his lats you lifted your hips against his as he slid back and then buried himself into the hilt. You gasped into his mouth at the ache of him nudging into your guts and then pulling back to his tip only to slide himself back in. Working you open slowly, he continued to drive into your cunt with gushy wet noises coming from your pussy as he stretched you open.
You appreciated him plunging in slowly and easing you into fitting around his cock properly. You liked the warmup but more than that, you needed him to destroy your pussy.
When he felt you bucking upward into him he parted his mouth from yours and sat back with his knees bent. You saw him watching the space where he was connected with your cunt as he continued rolling into you.
His abs were flexing as he steadied himself in and out. You gasped when he began to fuck into you a little faster, his cock sliding through your walls and bumping into all the slick bits on your insides.
A gurgled moan fell from your lips as he smacked his hips into yours. The patting of his balls against your ass came out in wet thuds. Your tits bounced with every long stroke into your tummy and he was panting as he let his eyes scan over your body and up to your pretty face.
“Taking me so well, Y/n. Making me leak into my condom already, pussy’s so good.”
You both moaned as he drove into you, his mattress under you giving way to the force of his thrusts.
“Feels so good, Harry…” you panted.
“Yeah?” He bucked inward and ground against you, swiveling his hips and you gasped at the deep press into your cervix.
His fingers were pinching into your thighs as he stuffed himself in and you gripped his forearms for leverage and lifted your neck to watch as his cock disappeared into your body over and over again.
His shaft was coated with your shiny arousal as he slid in and out, your pussy gripping around his skin perfectly.
Harry’s moans were growing louder as he continued fucking into you wetly, hips slamming against yours making his balls strike into your ass.
His thighs were flexing as he rocked against you while your body was shivering and feeling the bliss of getting an itch scratched that you’d been needing.
You felt his right hand release your thigh and then watched him press his thumb over your slippery clit.
You let out a pathetic cry of relief when he smoothed the pad of his digit in circles on your bud, “Yes! Oh god!”
Harry coughed out a moan as he watched your face twist up, “That feel good, Y/n?”
You focused your sight on his eyes and nodded, “Yes…”
The grin on his face could have been akin to something cocky but your brain was mush as you let him wreck you with deep strokes into your tummy, wet and sloppy, dripping arousal down your ass.
The springs in his mattress were bouncing in time with his thrusts and the wooden frame on his bed creaked when he jerked his hips forward into you.
“Just like that, huh? Pussy needed fucked, yeah?” Harry’s words were coming out tight and shaky. You could hear it in his voice how good it felt for him too.
He pressed down and moved his thumb deliciously over your puffy clit as his cock punched into your organs and tissue making you throw your head back and close your eyes arching your back upward.
Harry loved the sight; your sloppy wet pussy spreading apart for his cock as you arched your back like the sexy thing you were, soft tits swaying every time he buried himself in balls deep, lips parted, neck long and stretched out as you breathily moaned his name, “Hh… Harry…”
He could watch you like this all night. Stretches of skin covered in goosebumps as if you were cold, hard nipples at the center of your wobbly squeezable tits, soft tummy clenching, and wet pussy ruined and clenching around him.
The way he was smushing and circling his thumb over your clit had your head fuzzy and your heart racing. But then he leaned over you and pressed his other hand over your low tummy as he fucked into you, pushing against your insides and making the space he was invading with his cock feel tighter as he slid upward and nudged into your guts.
“Gahhh…” you let out a gasped moan when his hand pressed into your stomach.
“Does that feel good, Y/n?” Harry’s eyes were on yours as he drove himself into you.
You nodded and scrunched your brows upward when your insides began to twist with your pussy stretching around him indulgently.
Your legs began to quiver from the strain of your muscles as you felt your orgasm nearing. Everything he was doing to you set your body alight. You reached for his strong biceps and dug your fingers in tight gasping at the depth of him.
“Be good for me, honey… there you go,” he spoke through clenched teeth, holding back his release, “Right there, huh? Feels good like that?”
You whimpered with a nod as you pinned your eyes to his. The expression on his face was lusty and filled with need as he dipped into you, pasting his hips against yours now, only fucking inward, pressing solidly against your insides.
You cried out when you felt the small burst and snap of your orgasm and he quickly moved his hands from your tummy and clit, leaning his hips against yours before pressing his palms into the mattress on either side of your shoulders and angling his body so he could pound into you and fuck you through your orgasm. The way his pelvis smushed against your clit, hips grinding against you as he pulled back and then forced his way through your opening to bury himself deep inside sent you over the edge.
You clung to his shoulders as you spasmed around his fat cock, slipping deep inside of you with a wet squelch as he reared back to his tip before rutting into the hilt.
Your vision and hearing grew muted as you came so you couldn’t hear him clearly when he babbled off nonsense, “Shit! Squeezing the fuck out of me, honey! Oh my god, that feels good. So fucking hot. Gonna make me come so hard…”
Harry’s hips struck against you repeatedly until his balls constricted and tightened and then he was pumping into his condom, his muscles stiffening with his hips pressed into yours, mashing your body into the mattress underneath you.
He choked out a moan as his cock spurted his release, throbbing and twitching inside of you as you panted at how hard he’d come. The front of his thighs were pressed into the back of yours, holding you down with his hips as he drained every drop of his come into his condom.
Then it was silent. The sound of sex and moaning was quieted and the bed was no longer creaking and thumping.
Harry pressed his chest against your tits and you felt his plushy lips on yours again and you sighed against his mouth. Slowly your ears stopped ringing and you smoothed your hands up his strong back.
He pushed his face into your neck and his warm breath dampened your skin, “Happy fucking birthday to me,” he laughed.
You grinned with a tiny giggle and opened your eyes before running your fingers into his thick curls.
When he’d pushed himself up to look down at you, you couldn’t get over how adorably handsome your neighbor was. He was sexy as hell and yet so cute at the same time.
“You all right?” His raspy voice was quiet as he searched your face and brought a hand up to your temple, his thumb drawing over your skin.
The grin on your face should have told him as much as you nodded, “Very much all right.” You puffed out a laugh.
He laughed with you and smiled widely, dimples appearing in his cheeks, “Well, welcome to the neighborhood, Y/n.”
Raising a hand up to his jaw you nodded, a cheeky grin still stretched over your mouth, “And happy birthday to you, Harry.”
Part 2
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harrysonlylover · 2 months
Text
Psycho For You*
Summary: In which jealousy runs deep in his blood.
Warnings: MEAN Harry, blood, mentions of violence, filthy rough smut, shower sex, choking, degradation, size kink.
WC: 1.4k
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Y/n had good intentions in mind. Not pure or angelic, but the right amount of playfulness. She didn’t anticipate this to happen or meant to do any harm.
She should’ve seen it coming. Should’ve known better than to rile him up, and fuel his jealousy. All she wanted to do was mess with him, and it took a different route.
The blood was dripping on the tiles, but he didn’t wash it off because at the moment he had a lesson to teach.
“You think you’re so clever, huh?” A sadistic smile was painted on his face as he nipped on her skin.
The blood belonged to the man she ‘flirted’ with, he didn’t kill him despite the burning urge he felt. Instead, others at the party had to pull him away before it escalated.
And the sick truth? She liked it.
“Don’t you know that you belong to me?” He grabbed her throat with a tight grip, staining her skin with blood.
The hot water poured on their naked bodies as he rested his forehead against hers, with his cock nestled deep inside her heat.
“I do.” She shivered from the thrill of it all.
“Tsk tsk, looks like your little brain forgot again.” He thrusted inside her, causing her head to tilt backward against the glass wall.
He refused her help once they arrived home, dismissing the need to clean and stitch his hands. That wasn’t what he needed. He craved having her warm walls engulf his cock as he watched her facial expression change for him.
The steam from the hot water covered the glass walls, and Harry had her body supported with his.
“Silly girl, pushed my buttons on purpose and now look what happened.”
The wet sounds caused by his thrusting could not be overpowered by the dripping water. He adored hearing how his cock penetrated her, and he was extra rough this time.
“Whose slut are you? Hmm?” His grip on her jaw would surely cause visible bruises in the morning.
“Yours.” She replied weakly and incoherently because of her smushed cheeks.
“Oh look, the brainless slut can speak. Looks like I’m too easy on you.” He suddenly stopped mid thrust, raking his eyes all over her gorgeous face. A grin slowly made its way before he pulled out and slid in again with a rough force.
He used his hands to bounce her body on his cock quickly. Her screams were music to his ears.
“Bet you liked how I almost killed him for you. You want that, don’t you?” His wet curls covered his forehead while he bit her shoulder.
Her answer was muffled by her moans and whimpers. He lived to hear her beautiful sobs and cries of pleasure. His cock was made to pleasure her always soaked pussy—or should he say his pussy?
“Not gonna answer, eh? No need darling. I felt the clench of your dirty cunt when I asked.” She tugged at his hair knowing how much he adored the pain.
If not for her mushy brain and feelings of euphoria, she would’ve answered him properly. She wasn’t even ashamed of it because he had corrupted her to the core. Fuck yes, she liked it.
She wanted him to protect her and loved the idea of him going crazy for her. Loved the idea of her man, exploiting his physical strength for her.
Her hands held onto his biceps as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. His thrusts were merciless. He hit her G-spot repeatedly and stopped whenever she clenched a lot which was an indication of an orgasm.
He followed it with a wicked laugh and more aggressive kissing. His mouth nipped all over his body, whether it be biting, sucking, or ‘gentle’ kissing. He made sure to leave his marks everywhere. The bruises that will form on her body were the smallest example.
He would soon cum inside her walls, plant his seed deep inside her womb and give her the feeling she begs him for. And over the next few days, soreness will follow.
“Would you look at that?” He chuckled as he glanced down to where his cock pulled out from her warm pussy again. It was coated with their wetness but more specifically her juices.
“Pathetic slut, getting off the fact that I hurt other people for you.” He pulled her hair, causing a stinging sensation in her scalp. He gently tapped on her cheek signaling for her to open her mouth. He spat inside before guiding her lips to his and clashing his tongue with hers.
“Should’ve just spat on you instead from how filthy you are, and you’d like it anyways.” The steam from the hot water caused fog to arise in the small bathroom. She genuinely could not think straight. Everything was too overwhelming and euphoric. She couldn’t resist dropping her gaze to his glorious body where his cock was hanging.
No wonder her pussy felt empty.
She swallowed down her throat at his size, she really wondered how he fit inside her sometimes, but she was immediately reminded of how many tries and lube it took for him to fit in.
After that, he had her stretched properly to his shape and curve because he simply owned her.
“Little bunny, you’re about to drool.” He tsked, raising her chin with his finger. She gave him innocent doe eyes that had him weak in the knees.
“All for a cock?” He laughed, pushing hair strands out of her face.
“Fuck me.” She begged, digging her nails into his tatted skin.
“Should I though? I mean it’s too big for your tight cunt.” He pretended to hesitate, placing his cock from the base near her pussy, allowing it to stand reaching her stomach.
“See? I could probably move your womb if I want to.” He mocked her with every single word he spewed. And of course, she loved it.
She went crazy for how he degraded her and made her feel small. He knew that her exact weakness was their size difference and how he rearranged her insides with how deep he went.
“Please, I need to cum.” She grinded her dripping pussy against his shaft, earning a harsh slap to her her engorged clitoris.
“So fucking needy and whiny for my cock.” He lined up the tip with her entrance and slid in swiftly.
The relief on her face once he entered her was fucking priceless. God, he lived for her pussy and intimacy. She had him hooked.
“Is that how you want me to treat you? Like you’re just a hole?” His hips snapped against hers as her cries filled the small space.
“Well guess what darling? You’re nothing more than that.” He landed a harsh slap to her ass, before bringing his hand to her throat.
“Harder. You own me, Harry.” She managed to speak despite the tight grip.
“I know I fucking do.” He sneered, plowing into her like a madman.
It was on a whole other level of pleasure and craziness. A psychotic lust. He placed all of his godly stamina into claiming her pussy.
Her face scrunched in both pleasure and pain. An expression that he loved.
“Oh good, does that hurt?” He tilted his head to the side, not forgetting to glance at her bouncing breasts.
She nodded weakly at his question, with her nails scratching down his back over previous scars caused by their rough sex.
“As it fucking should. My pretty fuckdoll. What do you say?”
“Tha—Thank you.” She breathed out.
The sound of skin slapping intensified, he was hitting her cervix with every thrust, deeper and deeper. Their fucks were filthier than orgies.
“Now cum on my cock so I could fill this pussy up.” He whispered in her ear and nibbled on her earlobe.
She had been waiting all night for his cue, almost cried even. He teased her continuously for his pleasure and mocked her tightness when he knew how stretched she was.
“Uh—ohh.” Their faces were inches apart and he stared into her eyes right as her orgasm hit her. Her body was lit on fire as she moaned audibly, and clung onto him. He kept fucking her through her high, feeling the wetness drip down his thighs.
He was about to follow her and allow himself a release but instead, he turned the water off.
“Can’t have the water wash my cum away, it should be deep inside of you.” He panted heavily and caressed her flushed cheeks.
The moment he said that she knew she was in for a long night of rounds, orgasms, and humiliation.
And she wouldn’t want it any other way.
——————————————————
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Rose-Colored Glasses, Vol.2, Part 6: New York, Zurich, London (Sugar Daddy!Harry Styles)
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Summary: (Y/N) has some major career choices to make. Harry takes her along on an investors' tour, and they have a big discussion about their relationship. The penultimate part. This is an NSFW story. If you feel uncomfortable reading content like this one, feel free to scroll through my Masterlist to find something you might like. (Smut / Teasing/ Oral Sex; Female Receiving / Breeding Kink / Semi-Public Sex) (Words: 8.4k) Vol. 1, Part 1: New York City   /  Vol. 1, Part 2: New York City & Aspen  / Vol. 1, Part 3: New York City & Amalfi Coast & Rome  /  Vol. 1, Epilogue / Vol. 2, Part 1: New York  /  Vol.2, Part 2: New York, Upper East Side / Vol.2, Part 3: Harry’s Apartment, Upper East Side, New York City  / Vol.2, Part 4: Harry’s Apartment, Upper East Side, New York City / Vol.2, Part 5: Harry’s Apartment, Upper East Side, New York City, Winter Wonderland / Epilogue; Hawaii / My Full Masterlist / Rose-Colored Glasses Masterlist / My Ko-Fi
It has been about a year since that conversation with Harry. Another Christmas went by, with everyone's eyes glued on my ring finger, to find out whether Harry popped the question or not. It is not just his family and our friends anymore. Every time I accompany him to business dinners or trips, every time I visit his office, everyone is looking at my hands, scanning for a sparkling stone on that finger. At first, I was getting annoyed, and frustrated at the invasion of privacy. But now it is just funny, everyone is so obsessed with our relationship, so amazed by the fact Harry is in the longest relationship of his life -at least by Lita's sayings.
"Well, I will be damned..." I hear a familiar voice from the entrance of the design room. I have been helping from the game studio's headquarters lately, so I have been meeting with a lot of people. I raise my gaze to find Chimera, my old professor from my bachelor years. "Professor Fisher... It is so good to see you again. How have you been?" I ask her, leaving my pad on the desk to walk toward her. "I have been fine, Ms. (Y/L/N). Last I heard of you, you were moving out of New York." She shakes my hand. "Yes, but now I am back. I apologize for not attending our meeting all the way back." "The past is in the past, (Y/N). Tell me, what are you doing here?" She asks me. "I help with the gameplay dialogues and info, check the validity of information, you know, putting my knowledge to any use I can." I explain to my old professor who is now looking at me as if she is scanning me, looking for any excuse to judge me. "I see." "What are you doing here? This is the last place I expected to see you." I ask her. "The studio wants to recruit one of my students, apparently as your assistant, as part of their dissertation. As the head of the department, I had to check this place out." She replies. "Oh, that is amazing. I could use some help around here. And I am glad I will get to work with a fellow NYU student." I smile at her. "Now that I have found you, what about we go grab some lunch and discuss how you like it here? Maybe we can have that meeting we didn't have all this time back." She suggests. I check my wristwatch, seeing that I have at least 45 minutes until my lunch break. "I will have to ask my supervisor if I can have my break a bit earlier." I smile and point to the supervisor's office.
-
"What's up with you today?" Chrissy asks, pulling out a lace bodycon from the rack and holding it before my body. "Hm?" I realize that I have been holding onto the same pair of satin panties for the last 10 minutes, mindlessly feeling the smoothness of the fabric in my hand. "I am asking what is going on inside your head... You are off today. What is so much more interesting than lingerie shopping?" She chuckles. "I saw Chimera today... Professor Fisher." I state, placing the pair of panties in my shopping basket. "You did? And what, she sucked the life out of you?" She asks jokingly. "No... I mean, she was actually very nice. She bought me lunch." "Well, I mean, she always liked you. You were her little teacher's pet." She teases me, knowing that I am dying to hear praise from any authoritative figure. "Still, she was very difficult to deal with, you remember." "Anyways, is that the reason you are off today? Because Chimera bought you lunch?" She asks with a scoff. "I was supposed to have a meeting with her when I got back from Italy." I explain, avoiding eye contact. "(Y/N), baby. I love you, but I can't keep pressing you to extract information. You have to be the one to tell me if you want to let it out." She comments and I sigh. "She wanted to suggest I start my Ph.D. back then. She said that my research project was riveting for a bachelor student and that skills and insights like mine should not be limited to developing a mobile game. She said that if I am up for it, I can apply tomorrow morning and start next week because she will vouch for me." "(Y/N), baby... That is amazing. Oh my God, I am so proud of you, but oh, oh so jealous. You should be celebrating, not sulking." She encourages me, hugging me in celebration. "What are you thinking? Are you doing it?" She asks me. I sigh, feeling my eyes brimming with tears. "I can't afford it. I have to pay off my student loan. She said we could look for partial funding, but it is not enough for me to not go into complete debt with my current salary." I reply, feeling a tightness in my stomach. I really, really want this, but I can't have it. "Why... Why are you not... asking Harry for money? He would be more than happy to help, you know that." She suggests. "We made it very clear when we first got back together that he will not treat me like a sugar baby again." "Yeah, ok. But this is not like that and you know it." "It will feel like that to me. I won't even tell him about meeting with Chimera today. And I'll just forget about it. I have to focus on other things either way." I reply and she looks at me with a furrow on her brow. "Other things?" "I mean the game. I'd tell you if I had to plan a wedding, don't worry." I roll my eyes, showing her my still-ringless ring finger. She just hums and places the bodycon in my basket, moving to the next rack. "You know, sometimes I feel like your personal Barbie doll. You dress me up and then send me home for Harry to enjoy." "I am on his payroll for exactly that reason." She jokes. "That explains a lot, actually." I mumble and follow right behind her.
-
It has not been easy for me to move past this. I have always thought of myself as a scholar, as a person active in the field of research, someone who helps the next generations understand art a little better, and a person who helps all those stories behind artworks to be told to the world. So it is not easy for me to kick away this opportunity.
"Sunshine, you are still not ready?" Harry asks, emerging from the closet. He is trying to fix the cufflinks on his shirt's sleeves but he is struggling, so I gesture for him to come closer so I can do it for him. "I am not really feeling well. I think I am staying home tonight. Give my apologies to the company." I murmur, fixing the little decorations on his crisp, white shirt. "What is it, princess? You have been under the weather for a while now. Have you been to the doctor?" "It's fine, it's just tiredness." I assure him. I don't like lying to him, and I certainly don't enjoy watching him worry about me, but it is not really a lie. I am feeling sick, and being with his nosy business partners will not help me feel better. "Baby, have you... Have you taken a test?" He asks me. I can sense some hope in his voice. He has expressed that he wants us to have a family, but we have agreed to not rush it or force it. It will come in its own time. "A test?" I ask him. "A pregnancy test." He clarifies and I chuckle. "Harry, I am not pregnant." I hate to crush his hopes. "Are you sure? I can ask Vinny to bring you one." He offers and I nod. "I am sure. I had my period 10 days ago, remember?" I ask and he huffs. "I am just tired. I am sorry." I smile softly at him, running my thumb over his knuckles. "I'll cancel tonight. I'll stay with you, cook you a healthy soup, and we will sit and watch something on the telly." He begins unbuttoning his shirt but I stop him. "No. You should go. I will be fine for a couple of hours. I'll drink some tea, take a melatonin gummy, and go to bed. Tomorrow I'll feel better." I assure him, standing up to give him a short kiss. "Are you sure about that?" He asks me and I nod my head. "I will be fine, baby. I just need to rest. Go, have fun. I will see you during breakfast." "If you need anything, just call me." "I know." "I mean it. I will keep my phone on." "Okay, Harry. Now go, don't be late for dinner." "Fine. I am going. Oh, I can leave Vinny here. Just in case you need anything. He suggests but I shake my head no. "I will be fine on my own, Harry. But thank you for being so considerate." It is sweet of him, I can't lie. "Alright. I'll try to get out of it as soon as possible. Bye, baby. I hope you feel better soon." He moves out of the door hesitantly, leaving me alone in the empty house.
-
A knock on my office's door brings me out of my zone, stopping my typing mid-sentence. Harry stares at me through the glass door, waving at me happily. I smile and gesture for him to enter, watching him as he tries to open the door with his body. "I come bearing gifts." He announces as he walks in. And he truly does. A bouquet of fresh daisies, a large, brown paper bag from our favorite takeout place, and a smaller bag from the french patisserie near his office, all carried by him and placed on top of my desk. "This is a surprise." I state, standing up from my chair to hug him. I know that the glass door and the window divider don't give us much privacy, but I don't mind being seen hugging my man. "Is it a pleasant one?" He asks me and I hum. "Always. What are you doing here?" I ask him, inviting him to take a seat on the small, 2-seat leather couch in the corner of the room. My office is not as impressive as his, it is way smaller, way less private, and more minimalistic than his, but at least it is all mine. "You haven't visited my office in a while. So I thought I should pay my busy girlfriend a visit." He starts taking the takeout out of the bag. "You know I have been swamped lately, bub. And you see me at home all the time. Is that not enough for you? You'll wound up tired of me in the end." I joke as he hands me a lunchbox. "It will never be enough for me, no matter how many hours a day I see you. I just wished I would see you happier a lot more often." He hands me a travel mug with coffee, my usual fragrant cappuccino feeling warm in my hand, despite the isolation of the mug. "I've been feeling a bit off lately, that's all. I'll get better once spring takes over." I try to make up an excuse, but Harry is smarter than that, he doesn't buy it.
"Why didn't you tell me about the Ph.D. offer?" He asks me, sitting across from me on the couch. Well, due to the size of the furniture, we are pretty much one upon another. "Harry..." I don't know what to tell him. I didn't even realize he knew that much. "(Y/N)..." He insists, prying my head up with his pointer and middle finger. "Chrissy told you?" I ask him. "Only after I told her how miserable you've been lately. She is worried about you. I am worried about you. I thought you wanted to break up with me and didn't know how to tell me." He explains. "Harry, no. Of course not. I just... I can't afford to do it now. So what use would there be telling you? I wanted to suppress it, I wanted to forget it even happened." I admit, fidgeting with my rings. "If there is one thing I learned from therapy is that the more you suppress things, the stronger they return when they resurface. You can't ignore a smoke alarm, the fire will catch up to you. Yes, you wanted to suppress it, but it took away your happiness." "Ok, yeah. It happened. But even now, nothing has changed. I still can't do it, and now you know about it, so every time you'll look at me, you'll pity me." I sound frustrated, more so than I thought I would. "Is this Ph.D. something you want to do? Is it something that will bring happiness back to my favorite person?" He asks me and I sigh. I simply nod my head, biting my lip to stop myself from crying. "Then you should go ahead and do it." "You know I don't get paid enough to pay off my student debt and start a Ph.D." I chuckle and he scoffs. "I'll fund it." He states. "Harry, no. We have agreed you wouldn't treat this as a business deal. This is precisely why I didn't want you to know in the first place." I try to sound definite about this and cut this option off completely, but Harry remains calm and just looks at me until I am calm enough to listen to what he has to say. "I am not doing this to control you. I am not doing this to own you, or because I want you to feel in debt to me. I am doing this because this is the sort of thing you do for the person you love. I love you. And if this is going to bring the smile back to your face, I am going to pay ten times the fucking tuition." "What if we break up?" I ask him and he tilts his head to the side. "Are you planning on breaking up with me, (Y/L/N)?" He asks me. "Of course not, Harry. But shit happens, you never know. You might get bored of me, you might be the one who will want to break up." "(Y/N), baby... I will never get bored of you. I don't ever plan on breaking up with you. And believe me, if you ever decide to break up with me, the last thing I will care about will be the money. So, (Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N), do this sad, sad man a favor and apply for the Ph.D., because every second I don't see the light in your eyes, I lose my happiness too." He takes my hand in his, bringing it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss on it. I smile and nod, moving closer to him to press a kiss on his lips. "I don't know how I will ever repay you." I whisper. He strokes my face softly, looking at me for a moment, staring deep into my eyes. "Love me. It is enough for me. Love me, because your love makes me a better person, and it makes the darkness go away. So, just... Love me." He states, stroking his thumb over my cheek. I nod my head, feeling finally ready to burst into tears. I have been holding myself for a while, trying to deny the pain I have been feeling. But now I can finally let go, I can finally admit how painful this has been for me.
-
"Is that the necklace I got you back when we first met?" Harry asks me, holding up the chain with the rose-gold plated dove necklace. I am currently finishing packing up for our trip to Europe, for an investors' tour. Harry is checking the jewelry I have packed for the trip, bored out of his mind now that he has finished with his own obligations. "It is." I smirk, looking at the dainty necklace. "You still got it?" He asks and I nod my head at him. "I thought it had long been buried in Arlington's grounds." "It is way too pretty to be buried." I reply. He hums, closing the box and placing it back into my luggage. "I hope this one is not packed to be worn in public..." He holds up a lace teddy, a baby pink, nearly transparent one, which of course Chrissy chose for me, but I couldn't agree more that I have to wear this. "Oh, this one? This one is for dinner with your parents... This, the pair of gladiator lace-up Amina Mauddi high heels you got me for Valentine's, and the silk romp Chrissy got me for Christmas... The perfect outfit for the in-laws, don't you think?" I ask him, folding in half the protective fabric bag that has one of my formal dresses inside, and placing it in my suitcase. "For the in-laws?" He asks, cheerful about the phrase I used to describe his parents. "I meant your family." "You said the in-laws, though..." He teases, walking closer to me. "I meant your family, Harry. Don't make too much of it." I scoff and he shakes his head at me. "You said the in-laws..." He grabs me by the waist, pulling me close to his body. "You said the in-laws." "Harry..." "No, no, no. Don't ruin it for me now... You said the in-laws. Which means, you are thinking of me as your husband. Tell me, (Y/N)... Are you thinking of me as your husband, baby? Are you thinking of becoming my wifey, Ms. (Y/L/N)?" He asks me, gently pushing me onto our bed. "I have to finish packing... Or else the teddy will be worn during a business dinner." I giggle. He pins my hands onto the mattress, hovering above me as he smiles. "Don't threaten me, 'cause I will call Gemma and have her send a dozen outfits to Switzerland before we land." He teases me, leaning down to bury his face in my neck. "Harry, I have a shitload of things to do." I purr, but Harry knows better than to back away. "You wanna be called Mrs. Harry Styles, baby? Cause I can arrange that... Pretty much right now." He nudges his nose on my sweetspot, causing me to sigh at the sound of his last name as mine. "Harry, baby..." "Oh, I know, I know... You want me to put a baby inside you, hm... You want that even more, don't you?" He asks, letting go of my hands and raising the hem of my sweater until it is off my body. "I just want you." I admit, succumbing to the way his lips are working on my skin. "I knew that already, baby. If you could, you would have me fuck your tight little cunt all the damn time, wouldn't you?" He asks me, moving his hands now to take off my biker shorts. "I bet this little pussy of yours is already soaked, isn't it sweetheart? Just imagine how much needier you will be with those pregnancy hormones. Fuck, we will have to build a bed in my office for our little mid-day meetings." He toys with the hem of my panties, grazing the very tip of his finger over my bikini line and sending shivers all over my body. "Damn, your impregnation kink... You know, rich guys tremble at the idea of producing spawns with random women, in case they demand a fortune for their paternity." I manage to gather enough coherence to tease him. "You've taken all logic out of my brain, princess. I don't care if I am left with a single penny after I put a baby inside you." "Now, do you want me to put a baby deep inside you? Do you want me to put a baby right here?" He asks me, kissing my lower stomach. "Yes, please, daddy." I moan, feeling his hot breath on my skin. "How much do you want me?" He asks me, lowering his lips until they rest on my still-clothed mound. "I want you so much, I can't even find the words. Please... Look how messy you've made me." I groan and Harry chuckles. "Oh, princess... But you have to pack your luggage." He slithers away, smirking victoriously. "You little shit." I protest, nearly jumping up from the bed. "Weren't you the one protesting that you have to finish packing?" He asks cockily, walking into the bathroom with a toiletry bag in hand, whistling a tune in faux-mindlessness. "Get back here, Styles." I groan, folding my arms before my chest. "We have to finish packing, sunshine. Get back to it." He sounds too smug for my liking like he knows he won this round. Fuck, this is the last time I play hard to get when I want him that bad.
-
"I can't believe I won't see you for 3 whole weeks." Chrissy sighs before pouting at me. I roll my eyes playfully, knowing how dramatic she is right now. "Chrissy, we have gone way longer without seeing each other." "Not since you moved back to New York..." She mumbles. "I'll bring you Swiss chocolates to make up for the lost time." "Bitch, you keep your Swiss chocolates. You'd better bring me a Swiss watch." I laugh at her comment, earning looks from the jet's crew who are impatiently waiting for me to hang up. "I'll do my best. Chrissy, baby, I gotta hang up. We are preparing for takeoff and I need to switch to airplane mode." "Fine. Stay safe, call me when you land." She demands. "I don't know what time it is going to be here when we land there, honey." "I don't care... You call me. Love you, be ok." She greets me. It is adorable how much she worries about me, it makes me feel like someone has my back.
I would be lying if I said I don't get why she is so worried; the last time I left for so long with Harry, it was for that trip to Italy, and we all remember how that went. Of course, Harry and I have traveled abroad again since we got back together. But it is the first time we are going to be gone for so long. And it is the first time we are traveling for business. I can feel the nervousness in my stomach, and a burn in the back of my nose. It feels awful, and I am glad I share the feeling with Chrissy, because Harry seems on cloud nine, completely in his own fucking world, and not too bothered by what is clearly on my mind.
I put my phone on airplane mode and grab my journal -a beautiful recycled leather journal that Chrissy got me for my research-, and my laptop. With around 80 academic journals, articles, and pdfs, I have enough to entertain myself during the long flight, the long trip to be honest.
"We are all set." Harry announces, plopping down on his seat. The comfortable seats allow me to sit fully curled on mine, my laptop resting on my lap. I know it is not the best position to study in, and I will soon have to change it, but for now, it will have to do. "When are we taking off?" I ask and he chuckles. "Eager to get up high, sunshine?" He asks me with a soft smile. "Not really. I am just craving coffee and I know they are supposed to serve us after takeoff." "Oh, they are not?" He asks as he motions for a flight attendant to approach us. "Can you please bring us some coffee? The pretty lady over there needs a caffeine boost, she is an academic..." He comments, looking at me adoringly. I cock an eyebrow at him, opening my laptop to access the folder. "Right away, sir." The flight attendant smiles and walks to the front to execute Harry's request "You didn't have to do that. And I am not an academic." I mumble and he chuckles. "You are a Ph.D. candidate, correct? And you wanted some coffee, right? We are passengers on this flight, we can have some coffee." He states. I just hum, focusing my gaze on the text before me. "Is someone a little pissy today?" He asks me, leaving his seat and walking towards me. "Nope." "Oh my God. Are you mad at me?" He asks me with a sly smirk. "That I am." I admit. "Look at my perfect doll, owning up to how she feels... I am so proud of you." He licks his lips, sitting on the arm of my seat. "Aren't you going to ask why I am mad at you?" I ask him and he shakes his head, stroking the side of my face. "Oh, I know why already..." He scoffs. The flight attendant brings a tray with coffee and paraphernalia. "Oh, you do? So tell me, Harry, the all-knowing, why am I mad at you?" I ask him, peaking at the pot of coffee to avoid eye contact with his smug, stupid face. "It is because I haven't fucked you in the last 4 days, isn't it? Your little cunt is so wet, desperate, and hungry for my cock that you've turned horniness into anger. You crave me so much that you are pissed you can't have me." He states. My eyes dart straight to the flight attendant, who backs away with wide eyes. "People can hear you, you know..." I mumble, but Harry seems to not care. "I am telling the truth, am I not?" He asks me. "Yes, yes... I am pissed at you for not fucking me, Harry. You have been teasing me for days now, and you have been leaving me high and dry. How is that fair? You know, it reminds me of the stupid bet we had last year before Christmas... And if I remember, we both did not like that time of our life." I clench my jaw, making Harry chuckle at me. He grips my chin, making me look at him and calm down from my fluster. "4 days without my cock inside you and you are spiraling... Oh, dove... I should have known how desperate my wife gets without feeling me inside her." He teases me. "I am not your wife." I protest and he hums. "From all I said, you chose to protest the wife part... Interesting." He states and I shrug. "I want you to count 75 minutes from when we take off. After 75 minutes, I want you to get up and head to the bathroom, wait for me there... I promise you, I am going to make it up to you for the dry spell." "We are not having sex on this plane." "Yes, we are. I have always wanted to join the mile-high club. And now, I have the most perfect partner to do so. So, we either do it in the bathroom, or I take you right here, with only a lap blanket hiding what this mean, big man is doing to this sweet, little angel." He cocks an eyebrow at me, expecting an answer. Despite the idea of him fucking me before everyone's eyes is turning me on to the point I have to press my thighs together, I am way too shy to ever do that. "Fine. 75 minutes." "Until then, I want you to focus on your bibliography." He reaches for the pot, pours me a cup of coffee, and hands it to me. "You are a huge dick, Styles." I roll my eyes, taking the first sip of coffee. "Oh, I know that." He winks at me, moving back to his seat.
I could not stand still while waiting for time to pass. I thumped my pencil on my journal countless times until I filled a page with random lines from thumping. What was worse was that Harry seemed too focused on his tablet, not even throwing me an accidental look. I hate that he looks so casual when I know he burns for me.
I followed his instructions down to the very last word. I took my refreshing cosmetics pouch that I had packed in my backpack for a touchup before landing and headed to the bathroom, which seems way more spacious than the ones on commercial flights. Of course, Harry had to tease me, making me long for him even more. He calls it delayed gratification, I call it torture.
A knock on the door, and then my heart pounding that someone might need the bathroom, and I got excited over nothing. "(Y/N), baby... It's Harry. Let me in so I can help you. Is it your travel sickness again?" He asks me from the other side of the door. I am confused, eyebrows furrowed together, but I decide to play along without phrasing my bewilderment. I open the door for him, allowing him inside the bathroom which now feels not-so-spacious. "Since when do I get travel sickness?" I ask him once he locks the door. "Since we need a cover. I needed a reason to join you. Would you rather if I said morning sickness?" He asks me, gently cornering me against the wall. One hand rests on my waist, the other on my face, and he is looking at me with a dominant expression. I love that expression, I love it on Harry and Harry only. "Smart, Styles..." I comment with a soft smile. "Just creative, dove. Very creative when it comes to pleasuring my wife." "Not your wife..." I comment and he smirks. "Right, not yet." He states, slipping his hand into my culottes. I gasp when his fingers find their way to my panties, toying with my cunt that is still covered by the thin, cotton undergarment. "Oh, look...My favorite cunt is so wet, it has a damp patch already." He chuckles and coos, rubbing his fingers along my slit. "Are you here to tease me, Styles?" I ask him, too desperate to even try to hide it. "Part of my job description is that, yeah..." He states, kissing the nape of my neck. "Styles..." "Styles..." He repeats at me, making me roll my eyes at him. "I go by (Y/L/N)." I remind him and he scoffs. "You'll go by Styles, just for me..." He kneels on the floor before me, lowering my bottoms along my panties. "Just for you?" I ask him, feeling his breath on my thighs. "Just for me. Only I will be allowed to call you Mrs. Styles. Mrs. Harry Styles. Deal, baby?" "Deal." I whimper as he fixes my leg onto his shoulder, allowing him access to my sex. "That's my good girl. Mon soleil. And now, I am going to reward you." He goes straight in, his tongue lapping up my sex, circling on the tip of my clit obnoxiously slow.
I know I have to keep quiet because there is no soundproofing in this shoebox of a bathroom. I know that a few feet from us are top executives of Harry's corporation. I also know that what we are doing is technically illegal. I know all that, and still, all I want to do is scream at the top of my lungs how good his mouth is at pleasuring me. I feel my heartbeat in my stomach and I can tell that it will only take a couple of seconds for the whole plane to hear me beg for more if I don't do anything to shut myself up. So I press my hand against my mouth, biting it until I feel my teeth leave marks on my skin. Harry moans lowly, enjoying himself as he savors me and sends vibrations to my sex. The sensation travels all across my spine, making my scalp tingle. "Harry..." I call for his attention. In return, he brings his gaze to meet mine, his beautiful, bright, green gaze fully on me. "I need you inside me." I beg, as quietly as I can. I need him, I need to feel him, all of him before I burst. "Oh, no, sunshine... We are having the main course when we land. Now it is just a little treat, a small preview." He kisses my inner thigh as he speaks, using his fingers in lieu of his mouth, pumping 2 fingers inside me. "But I need you... And is it really the mile-high club if it is just oral?" I ask him, my hand traveling to his curls. "I am sure the club's board won't be upset." He states, his mouth joining his fingers in pursuit of my high.
I understand there is no point in begging him for more now. He is going to give me what he has been planning to give me, and Harry is not one to go against his plans. Well, he wasn't, until he met me. And since then, he has been persistently failing to keep up with the precalculated path. We were not supposed to have sex, and then he succumbed to my seduction. He was not supposed to fall for me, yet he couldn't move on after we broke up. He was not supposed to wait for me, and yet he changed himself in preparation for my comeback. We were not meant to become addicted to each other, but here we are, unable to spend a day apart. "Deeper, please. Please, Harry." I mumble, sufficing to just the feeling of his fingers in that spot deep inside me. He seems to follow my wish, dipping his fingers knuckles deep inside me. "Are you going to cum in my mouth, sunshine?" He asks me, only parting from my sex momentarily. "I don't think I will be able to keep quiet. Edge me." It hurts me physically to ask for that, but we have no option. "Oh, no, honey. You are cumming for me. I don't care if everyone hears how good I eat this beautiful cunt." He uses his free hand to grab onto my hips and keep me there as he brings me to my breaking point. My sex glues to his face as I reach my spine-chilling high, eyes shutting tightly as I bite onto my palm. "There is my delicious girl... God, look at my honey, look how good she looks when she cums." Harry stands up, pressing me against the wall as he brings his lips to mine. "Do you think we are going to get arrested?" I ask, cradling his face softly in my hand. "For what?" He asks back. "For fucking in public..." "No one knows. And if they did, they would have burst in to stop us. We'll be fine, my love." He assures me, kissing the tip of my nose.
-
"You look so hot in just a towel..." Harry whispers in my ear, wrapping his arms around my waist. "You think I look hotter without it." I chuckle, scrunching my hair with the microfibre towel. "Look who's turned cocky." He turns my head, bringing his lips to mine. "All the worshipping you do has finally gotten to my head." "Objective completed then." He peels the towel off my body, letting it fall on the floor. "Harry, we have dinner with Gemma in an hour. " I remind him as his hand snakes down to my sex. "Yeah, I remember that." He rubs his fingers in circles on my clit, slowly inching them down to collect some wetness from my entrance. "I have to get ready for it. And you are a distraction, currently." "Oh, I am a distraction? Like you were when you wore that high-slit gown for dinner with the Dewis family?" He asks me, still moving his fingers slowly. "Oh, is that it?" I ask him, using my teasing voice, just to get on his nerves a little more. "All fucking night, all I could think of was your fucking pussy. And you made it even harder when you handed me your damn panties. Do you even know what it took for me not to blow everything up? Do you have any idea how much you could have cost me that night if I did not salvage the situation?" He is working his fingers faster, yet his voice is very calm, almost soothing. "And what's worse, princess, is that I would not give a damn if I lost money that night. All that mattered was the fact I had to have you. That's what you are doing to me, Mrs. Styles. That's how hooked you have me." He growls by my ear, stroking my clit faster. "Harry..." I whimper, gripping onto his forearm. "You can go ahead and get ready. I'll just have my fun with you." He sounds serious, his fingerpads pressing onto my sensitive bundle of nerves. "Harry, you know I can't concentrate on anything else with your hand between my thighs." I protest, my head falling back onto his shoulder. "Now you know how that feels." He is satisfied with himself. "Harry..." I purr, in a final effort to win this argument. "Time is passing, baby. We don't want my sister to wait, do we?" He chuckles, slowly teasing my sex. "You are so paying for this..." I whimper, bucking my hips on his hand. "Oh, princess...l don't think you understand... You are paying for what you did yesterday." He strokes my cheek with his free hand.
"You seem to have forgotten your manners, Styles." Gemma greets us as we reach the table reserved for us. "Sorry, darling. Someone took all night to get ready." Harry kisses his sister's cheek before allowing me to hug her. "Oh, no, baby... You are not putting the blame on me... Your brother seemed to have his hands full with obligations, Gem." I turn my head to watch Harry's reaction with a smirk on my face. He bites the inside of his cheek and shakes his head, keeping a playful smile on his face. "Oh, sweetheart, I believe you. You can take Harry out of the boardroom, but you cannot take the boardroom out of Harry." Gemma chuckles, taking a step back to check me out. "You look amazing, (Y/N). My God, how long has it been since the last time I saw you?" She asks as Harry pulls a chair out for me. "You never visit, Styles." Harry comes back, making her hum. "Thank God you conduct business in Europe and we see you once in a blue moon." "Are we here for you two to bicker back and forth?" I ask, picking up the menu card. "That's our love language, sunshine." He responds, kissing the back of my hand. "You would know if my brother didn't hog you all to himself at every visit." Gemma cocks an eyebrow at Harry, picking up the card as well. "Gemma, babes, can you stop staring at (Y/N)'s hands? We'd tell you if we were getting married." "Mum's raised the bet. If I lose half a grand because you cannot commit..." "Half a grand?" I ask, eyes going wide at the new information. "You can understand the kind of stress I am under. We are talking about good money." "What's your bet, Gemma?" I ask, biting my bottom lip. "Under 3 months." She replies. I turn my head to look at Harry who tilts his head and shrugs. "You might win it." I mumble, going back to the menu to make up my mind about what I want to eat tonight.
-
"Help me out of my dress?" I ask Harry who is already out of his shirt and drinking his last drink of the night. "Gladly." He leaves his glass down as I gather my hair up to reveal the zipper of my dress. "My sister made you feel uncomfortable, didn't she?" He asks me, slowly unzipping me. "No, it was actually nice. I like hanging out with Gemma." "I am talking about the stupid bet. It was fun at first until they started betting money. Now it is just annoying and creepy." He comments, grazing my spine with the knuckles of his fingers. "Same goes with your business partners... They were so pushy about the marriage topic. Everyone keeps on asking the same question; when is the wedding..." "They are worried you might realize you deserve better and leave me." He kisses the base of my neck before I turn around to face him. "This is nonsense, Harry. I love you too much to walk away." I place my hands on his chest, looking up at him as he touches my cheek softly. "Shall we do it then? So they stop asking?" He asks me, his face calm and voice steady. "Are you asking me to marry you so others stop asking?" I ask him back with a chuckle, but my heart is pounding in my chest. It is happening, for the first time he is honestly asking me to marry him. "Well, we already live like a couple, where is the hurt in signing a paper?"
For a moment my stomach sinks; it is just a formality. "Besides, I don't want to spend my life with anyone else but you. And I would very much like for everyone to know you are mine, and just mine." He kisses my lips tenderly, only for a second before he pulls away a few inches and stares at me. "Is this an actual proposal? Do you need an answer?" I ask him. "I...I mean... I know I don't have a ring and that it is spontaneous, but I..." "Yes, Harry. I want to marry you. Fuck the ring, fuck the prep, fuck everything. I'd marry you with paper rings tomorrow morning in the mayor's hall." I reach up, cupping his face in my hands and kissing him deeply. "Did you mean what you said? About marrying me tomorrow morning in the mayor's hall?" Harry asks me as I stroke his hair hazily. "And the paper rings part." I reply, still not able to wrap my brain around the fact he proposed. Harry, the love of a lifetime, the love of my life, asked me to be in his life forever. "You don't want a big wedding?" He asks me and I shake my head. "I never did, to be honest. Ideally, I'd like it to just be me and you. But we have to have witnesses." I roll my eyes and he hums. "Me, you, the mayor, Vinny, Chrissy, and Gemma." Harry counts on his fingers. "What are you thinking?" I chuckle and he smiles at me, kissing the tip of my nose. "Let's get married when we get back to New York. My assistant will do all the paperwork, we will buy whatever we need from here, we will invite just our witnesses and get married in New York, Saturday morning." He suggests. "Don't you want a big wedding?" I ask him, biting my bottom lip. The idea of a quick, no-fuss wedding excites me. "No, fuck that. We will sign our paperwork, and then I'll pick you up and leave for our honeymoon. Fuck anything else." He states. "If we invite Chrissy, we will have to invite Adrian." "Sure. But no family. Just Gemma because she is going to neuter me if she is not there at our wedding." "Deal. I'll call Chrissy. Saturday morning?" I ask him and he nods. "Friday we are going to be back in NY, Saturday I am marrying you." He says excitedly, placing a hand on the small of my back and pulling me closer to him. "Let's call Chrissy. But you will be quiet and go along with what I say. Promise?" I hold my pinky up for him. He chuckles and links it with mine before I blindly reach for my phone by my pillow.
Chrissy doesn't take long to pick up the phone. Her cheerful voice fills our hotel room, making Harry chuckle. "Hey, babes. What are you doing up this late, little minx?" She asks, singing at the phone almost. "Hey, Chrissy. I've missed you and I know you get off work around this time of the day. How are you?" "I am ok, missing my best friend and thinking of all the gifts she is bringing me from Europe." She says suggestively. I hum and roll my eyes, not that she can see my reaction. "Hope you like fridge magnets and keychains." "That's how much I am worth for you?" She gasps playfully. "Such a drama queen. Anyway, I didn't call you to discuss that. As I said and went unnoticed, I have missed you. And I was wondering if you and Adrian would like to join Harry and me for brunch on Saturday. There is this cool place across from NYC's town hall we've been dying to go and we thought it would be perfect to see you there when we return." "Oh my God, yes. What's that place? Have I heard of it?" She asks. "Nope. It is fairly new and exclusive. So dress up nicely and have some ID with you, they are pretty strict." "Oh, fancy. What time should we meet?" She asks me. I turn to Harry who just shrugs. "We have to make a reservation, so I don't know the time yet. I'll have to update you on that..." "OK, cool then. Will you find a reservation on such short notice?" She asks and I scoff. "Please. We have Harry's name opening every door. Who wants to piss off the mighty mister Styles?" I ask. Harry pokes my ribs playfully, causing me to slap his hand away. "Sometimes I forget you have one of New York's most powerful men wrapped around your pinky." She laughs. "Hm, only because he has me wrapped around his as well." I wink at Harry who just shakes his head. "You guys are sickeningly cute." "Said the girl who rejected her hoe side and married a year after meeting her husband." "I am not to be compared. Anyways, I have to go pick up dinner. Adrian will eat me if there is no food on the table in the next 20 minutes." "Since when do you complain about Adrian eating you?" I ask with a cocked eyebrow. "Your head is so deep in the gutter, (Y/L/N)." "I try my hardest, babes. K, bye. I have to go to bed." "See you on Saturday." She sings before the line goes dead.
"I think she is going to be pretty pissed when we don't have that exclusive bruncherie." Harry comments as I leave my phone down. "I think she is going to get over it when she signs as a witness to our wedding. Besides, we are heading for brunch after the wedding." I place my leg over his thigh, nesting my head on his chest. "Whatever the boss wants." He strokes his hand down my back. "I am the boss?" I ask, placing a kiss on his sternum. "Who else?" He asks back. "Why didn't you tell her about the wedding?" He asks me and I sigh. "She would make a big deal out of it. Plus, she would try to find a way to throw me a bachelorette party and I really don't want to spend a night away from you..." I explain and he coos. "So obsessed with me, my baby." He kisses the top of my head as I feel my eyelids become heavy. "We need to sleep... We have a big day tomorrow." "I thought the big day was on Saturday." "Yeah, but tomorrow we have to get the rings, the outfits, arrange for the paperwork, all the details. Plus, you have meetings, don't you?" I ask him and he groans. "Let me call my assistant for the paperwork." Harry tries to reach for his phone but I grab his forearm to stop him. "In the morning. Let him sleep." I smile at him, earning a sigh from him. "I can't wait... You are going to be my wife, my Mrs. Styles..." He strokes my cheek, smiling brightly. "Sleep now, Mr. Styles. We have a lot of things to do tomorrow. And I would hate for you to not look fresh and rested in our wedding pictures." I kiss the side of his neck and wrap my arms around him.
-
"Oh, we have to look this fancy..." Chrissy comments as she approaches us on the stairs of the town hall. I smile at her, hugging her and giving her a cheek kiss. "Thought I dress up a bit." I shrug my shoulders as she scans me from head to toe. "It suits you. I love the oversized blazer and the pant line. Though, creme looks a bit bridal." "Oh, no, honey. We can't have you looking like a bride without being one. We must do something about it..." Harry gasps dramatically, faking a shocked look. "You are absolutely right, baby. But what can we do... What can we do..." I shake my head. I must look ridiculous. "Oh, I know. Let's head right in there and get married. We have to, there is no other option now that you are dressed like that." Harry suggests, pointing at the town hall. I don't know who is a worse actor, him or I. "Excellent idea. Let's go." I giggle as Harry brings the bouquet of flowers from behind his back. "This was all a setup..." Chrissy gasps, jumping forward to hug us both. "I owed you a setup for what you did on your wedding day." I tease her and she scoffs. "If it wasn't for that set up we wouldn't be here today." Adrian chimes in, defending his wife. "That's why we thought it would be nice if you were our witnesses. It would actually be our honor if you accepted." Harry suggests, looking eagerly at our friends. "I would never talk to you again if you didn't ask us." Chrissy is on the verge of crying, right where I am too. "We should head in. Gemma and Vinny are waiting for us." Harry states, putting a pause to the crying session. "The mayor too." I giggle. "You two should head in. I'll give her away to you." Chrissy orders the two men, focusing on fixing the collar of my blazer. "Chrissy..." Harry protests, showing her his watch. "Styles, I spoke." She digs her heels into the ground, staring down at my very soon-to-be-husband. He raises his hands in defeat as Adrian pats his back. "Come on, you are not winning this argument. Chrissy, baby... Don't drag this out, yes, love?" Adrian requests, to which my friend hums. "Just a super quick bachelorette to give her the chance to change her mind... Just kidding. We will be right behind you." Chrissy assures them, dismissing them with a motion of her hand.
"Are you sure about this?" She asks me and I nod my head. "I am. I have never been so sure about anything else. He is the one. And I have to thank you for our second chance. If it weren't for you insisting he has changed, I would never even talk to him again." "And if it wasn't for that one night out, I would have never met Adrian, and there wouldn't be a wedding to invite you both to and bring you together again. Harry and you are meant to be, and everything has happened for that reason. Alright, it is time I hand you over to Harry. And I might be giving you away to him, but I am never giving you up. I love Harry and he is perfect. But I will always love you more, I will always choose you. A phone call away, and I will bust his head open." She strokes my cheek as I look up to avoid tears spilling from my eyes. "No time for tears, my bestie is getting married and I have to make sure she doesn't run away at the very last moment." Chrissy holds her hand out, inviting me to link my arm with hers.
-
Vol. 1, Part 1: New York City   /  Vol. 1, Part 2: New York City & Aspen  / Vol. 1, Part 3: New York City & Amalfi Coast & Rome  /  Vol. 1, Epilogue / Vol. 2, Part 1: New York  /  Vol.2, Part 2: New York, Upper East Side / Vol.2, Part 3: Harry’s Apartment, Upper East Side, New York City  / Vol.2, Part 4: Harry’s Apartment, Upper East Side, New York City / Vol.2, Part 5: Harry’s Apartment, Upper East Side, New York City, Winter Wonderland / Epilogue; Hawaii / My Full Masterlist / Rose-Colored Glasses Masterlist / My Ko-Fi
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1800titz · 2 months
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HI FRIENDS. WOOOOOOOOOOO. Camprry. Aimed for 5K or less and managed to get wordy again. Reader insert and basically pure smut. This one was supposed to be vanilla with some praise kink (and exhibitionism if you SQUINT since it’s in a tent) but….. hahahahaha….. WEEEELLLLLLL.
CONTENT WARNINGS: oral sex, face fucking, exhibitionism-ish if you squint, choking-ish if you squint, light dom/sub, praise kink, daddy kink, intercourse
WC: 7.5K (whoops)
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There is nothing remotely sexy about a camping trip. 
In fact, Y/N thinks that if she were to deduce a list of words upon first thought when it came to camping, sexy would be the furthest one from qualifying. 
There’s nothing sexy about reverting to caveman-ism, sleeping on the ground, sheathed by some paper-thin layer of nylon and polyester and plastic support beams. There’s nothing sexy about pit stains from the lack of air conditioning or its antithetical twin sister, the bumps that rise over chilly skin and trembling bones without the luxury of an electric heater. There’s nothing innately erotic about kindling fire like electricity doesn’t exist, and cooking hot dogs on skewers over the flame, and perpetually swatting at insects that incessantly stick to shins and calves like the flesh there is coated in sugar. 
There is something sexy, though, when it comes to the way Harry’s arms work as he pitches a tent, bi’s and tri’s intermingling in an alluring duet, pumping and settling with each motion. The sleeves of his tee ride up when he raises the limbs, and sunlight catches shadow in ridge and sinew of muscle. There’s something sexy in the way his back ripples, in the way that thin fabric does nothing to cover what she imagines — no, what she’s well aware lies underneath. The same traps and lats she’s scraped her nails over and dug into. The same shoulders she’s sunk her teeth into to bridle cries of bliss. 
There’s something hot about the cinch in his brow when he works, something alluring in the curl at the plush of his mouth when he turns his head and beams lopsidedly at something that their friend has said, too low for Y/N to catch. There’s something sexy in the way that his eyes skim her frame when she’s sitting in a fold-out chair with sunglasses. When his eyes glide over his shoulder. It’s in the most subtle way. There’s something sexy in the way he tears that gaze away. 
There’s something sexy in the way that no one around them knows she spends nights bouncing on his cock. 
This lustrous affair — this sneaky fling. This filthy, dirty secret that only the two of them share, slinking and sidling through the shadows. 
Really, it’s nothing more than a raunchy circumstance of friends-with-benefits, only kept on the down-low to evade prying questions from friends and the sickly confrontation of …feelings. Because it’d be easy to admit they’re fucking, that they’ve been hooking up for months after an impromptu, late night of drinking. But then it’s sort of cementing, right? At least, in a way. 
There’s a status that floats about when you confess you’re sleeping with somebody — when you admit that you’ve entangled them into your routine beyond one mishap of sex. In the eyes of your friends, admitting that you’ve upkept a sex buddy through the roll of the seasons is, like. Well, it’s basically admitting some form of something sentimental. 
They’re just fucking. They’re just friends that fuck. And the way that nobody around them has any sort of suspicion that he’ll most likely be slipping into her tent in the midst of the night for that... 
That’s sexy, the young woman thinks. 
They’re coiled around the campfire once the sun has ducked out and simmered off behind the trees, and Y/N thinks about it. She watches the shape of his features glow beyond the crackle of the flame, and she thinks about the way his nose bumps over her clit when he licks into her. She watches his mouth move when he talks, a muted strawberry that’s dimmed in the night, and she thinks about the cushion of it pressing open-mouthed kisses to her flesh. She’s in his sweatshirt, because she had to borrow one, and it smells like him. She’s coated in it — his scent. Warm, pleasant musk and remnants of tantalizing cologne. It reminds her of the way the same sweatshirt had been discarded and draped over the foot of her bed haphazardly one night, as he kneed his way onto the mattress and clambered over her, fingertips exploring and tongue trailing. It reminds her of the way he smells when he brushes past her in the company of others, just solid weight and warmth. He does it nonchalantly, but the green of his eyes is knowing and flirtatious. That’s when the same scent teases her senses. It reminds her of the way he smells when he’s up close and personal, when he’s rocking against her and groaning softly into the nook between her shoulder and her neck. 
She stares at his hands — the way they lay over the armrests of his fold-out, the way lengthy digits adorned with chunky rings cradle a can of beer. She imagines the same fingers wrapped over her throat, squeezing lightly, in that way that he does. 
Y/N isn’t panting into the chill of the air. The white of her exhales just surface …quicker. His hands, and his smell, and his mouth are entirely irrelevant to the matter. 
By the time they all retire to their respective tents, the young woman is pleased to get a breather from his hands and his …ludicrously plush, smiley mouth. At least in a public circumstance, so she can’t be caught fawning over his mannerisms from a distance. The smell …she can’t escape that. In all honesty, it should be shameful, basking in the scent of a sweatshirt. Instead, she coils up in it under the covers.
She’s turned on her side with gritty rock coursing through wire, chords of guitar and drums rippling out from the little speakers in her ears, entirely engrossed as she scrolls through what little apps can manage access without a durable station of wifi. 
Y/N nearly squeals when an arm slinks over her chest, when a palm nudges over her mouth. And then another hand is plucking at one of the earbuds, giving her leeway into the crinkle of the sleeping bag, crickets, and the sound of bated breaths behind her. 
A low baritone, hushed and teasing against the same ear where the earbud’s been removed, “Easy, baby.” 
The gentle murmur that his lips shape does, frankly, little to soothe the hammer of her heart. In fact, if anything, the muscle soars in pace behind bone with the way cushiony pink grazes her jaw, the way his warm weight presses up behind her. 
“Easy.” 
She’d sit up and turn over her shoulder if she had the opportunity, but the same inky, muscly arm she’d admired hours earlier cradles over, preventing the motion. Harry can tell too, evidently, based on his soft snicker. He’s pleased from the way her head juts to steal a peer back. He’s pleased when she doesn’t succeed.
Instead of letting up, he takes the same earbud he’d pulled out and presses it into his own ear so that they’re sharing the set, crooning, “What are you listening to? Hm?” 
He sponges another kiss to the side of her throat, a stray tendril flopping over his forehead. Y/N knows that he’s listening to it, too, then. She knows from the playful, little nudge of his head with the rhythm, from the way the cord of the earbuds grows taut, from the sound of mirth he muzzles to her skin when he drives his mouth over the side of her neck. The young woman wriggles her arm, just enough for his grip to loosen, and then uses the opportunity to raise her head to take her own earbud out. The motion jostles Harry from the nook he’s seemingly made homage in, and he nips at her earlobe in protest. Anyways, the whole thing sends a chill wracking down her shoulders. 
When he lets up, Y/N twists in his grasp to her back. The earbuds splay over her chest, his own discarded, too. There’s still music seeping softly. She blinks, gaze tracing over his features, basked in shadow and soft amusement. 
“Hey,” she croaks, her voice catching on a crack with the effort to keep quiet. 
And Harry drags a thumb down her stomach, fingers meddling where the fabric of her (no, his) hoodie has rucked up. The ticklish sensation makes her shift a little. His mouth quirks, and he smooths over the same spot again. 
“Hey, you.” 
Her lips part and her tummy jolts when he slips the chilly pad of his thumb back over the line he’d run for a third time. She wants to bring her own hand up and trace the contours of his cocky mouth with her fingertips. It shapes the words, like baritone bathed in honey, “Ticklish?” 
When he brushes over a fourth time, her arm twitches, and her hand shoots for his wrist, squeezing lightly. Corners of muted pink spring up, dimples scoring softly. 
“Yes,” she gripes in a whisper, but the gripe doesn’t come out very gripey at all. Instead, it’s sort of small — that’s on account of his warm weight shifting onto her. Which is a new development, and it’s one that stirs something familiar and warm below the sleeping bag she’s nestled into, half-zipped and mostly just thrown over. 
His sturdy thigh slips in the empty gap between her own, and Harry ducks his head, the dimples deepening and the glint of white teeth escaping through the part of his lips. And then he dips lower until his face is nearly tucked into her hair. 
“I missed you,” his admission is soft-spoken. It’d be sort of tender if it didn’t come out so …hungry. 
Y/N takes in a little, shuddery breath. The same hand that's settled over her hipbone comes up to brush hair away from her throat, and a mouth stipples kisses over her pulse. His voice is a raspy, desirous tease, “Did you miss me?” 
Christ. She thinks that maybe if he were telepathic and had even a brief glimpse into the filthy things that’d cycled behind her skull for the duration of the day, then he’d only be more smug. 
That’s dangerous. 
She’s glad he isn’t. 
The young woman hums — an apathetic sound that feigns contemplation, like his touch doesn’t light every nerve ending in her system on fire, like she hasn’t spent hours staring at his arms, his mouth, his hands. Like she hasn’t been picturing expanses of muscle and skin hidden under his tee, imagining her tongue tracing through the vales of his v-line and her fingertips following the trail of hair below his belly button, slipping lower and lower…
“No?” Harry murmurs, lips bumping wetly over her flesh. What follows is a gentle exhale, and then his mouth is sponging another open-mouthed kiss, and his tongue brushes warmth against her, like he’s petting with it over her pulse. He caresses all the way back to her ear. Something dirty and thrilling slinks down the knobs of her spine when he mumbles, unconvinced, “I think you’re lying to me, little miss.” 
Her breath stutters. 
“I think,” Harry muses, fingers dipping beneath the shroud of the sleeping bag and smoothing back over her waist testingly, “that if I had a look right now, you’d be a drippy mess.”
Her throat bobs on a swallow. Petulantly, and so obviously feigning, Y/N tips her chin back and tells him, “…Not at all.”
Instead of smoothing tips of digits back over the naked, little expanse of skin again, they venture lower, teasing at the waistband of her sleep shorts. “I think your sweet, little pussy would tell me otherwise, wouldn’t it, pet?” 
Another deep breath rolls her chest under the cushioned sheet of fabric when fingertips dwell in. Just centimeters, practically. They retreat. Harry presses another kiss just below her ear. 
“Hm? It’s been so empty all day long. Achy, I bet.” Chills rise awake all over when he murmurs, purely condescending pity painting every syllable, “Poor baby.” 
He’s always had it — this gift of filthy, dirty gab. This ability to render her craving and wanting with his words like it’s innate, practically. She shouldn’t be surprised when he shifts over her, just enough for her to feel how hard he is, tips of his curls tickling at her cheek, “Could stuff it full. Make it all better.” 
Y/N sighs. Finally. Like it’s a release of the whole act, and the seams of it come apart to bliss when he nips with his teeth. She cranes her neck to give him more room to work. 
“Would you like that?” 
And she would, she thinks. Very, very much, and his lingering fingers — when they pull out and he hooks a thumb in and just tugs down a smidge — remind her of how hot she suddenly is. How hot everything is, despite the chill in the air. Instead of answering, the young woman nudges with her chin — a nod. An unsatisfactory one, evidently. 
“Words,” Harry mutters. It’s gentle, and quiet, and she hopes the polar opposite of the way he’s going to fuck her.
She cranes her neck more and splays her thighs what little she can under his weight. It’s kind of a plea. It’s also sort of pathetic. “Yes.” 
But it makes his mouth crook. His palm draws away. No. That wasn’t the intended effect. She curbs her sound of protest, but he can tell that it’s bridled in the chamber — she knows because the curl of mirth grows wider. He sits up a bit, bracing on his arms until he hovers over her, and then he sighs, jade sliding to the sector of the bag that’s zipped. Slowly, like he’s teasing, he grips over the notch and tugs. 
“What d’you do if you want me to stop?” Harry beckons, nearly a whisper but not quite, fingers skimming up under his hoodie. The same hoodie clings to her flesh, and every nerve sparks alive at the touch, striking her lungs to expand heavier. The air catches when the pads of his fingers graze up the vale of her sides and siphon a flinch. 
“Teacup,” Y/N breathes the safeword in response, and the fingertips climb her ribs like a staircase, pleased. 
“Good girl,” He tells her, and the pads sink back over, bumping over the ridges, and he tugs the fabric up over her chest. 
Her bra is red. It’s a nice detail, all lacy cupped over her chest. He draws the tip of an index over the edge and says, “Cheeky,” like his comment isn’t, “…Did you wear this to get fucked?” 
The young woman gnaws at her lip. Innately, it’s not an accurate statement. She didn’t wear it to get fucked — not when she knew he’d be slipping into her tent in the midst of the night and fucking into her regardless of the state of her underthings. But it’s a nice touch when he ducks, palm squeezing over one of her tits, and tacks on all low against her ear, like it’s praise, “Because you know I love you in red, pet.” 
The satisfaction of pleasing him buds in her chest, right at the core of her ribcage, warmth pitted deep, and it slinks out like beams of gooey sunshine, winding and seeping through the cavity until her veins practically thrum yellow. She’s buzzing beneath him, pulse thumping and fibers of muscle twitching. It makes his mouth curve — the way he feels her trembling under him like she’s a taut string, and he traces a thumb over her mouth. 
Then jade flits to her chest, and Harry takes the thumb away to hook fingers under the cups and tug. They settle under her tits, perking them, and the way the wire settles over her ribcage isn’t particularly comfortable, but it doesn’t really matter. Not when he shimmies down her body and draws a stripe down with his tongue, all the way from the hollow of her throat to the edge of the bra, settling in between. He kisses down her stomach, green salacious and twinkling up through shadow at her, and his tongue draws a circle around her belly button. His mouth quirks there, too, because it makes her flinch. Because he knew it would. Harry brushes with wet taste buds lower, settles on a side, low on her tummy, and sucks a pressing kiss. Her whole spine wrings and writhes, arching when he pairs the sensation with a dull graze of his hand over a nipple. It’s barely anything, but it’s a touch she longs for. And she doesn’t know why, but it always lights her on fire when the pleasure entwines with something that makes her want to squirm out of her own skin.  
Because when he turns the graze into a pinch and a roll, when he hones on the drag of his tongue and the suckling of his mouth, when he skirts featherlight fingertips up her side like he’s plucking invisible strings, the yellow thrums red, and hot, and hungry. When his mouth lets up and he drags wet lips to curl over the opposite nipple and the featherlight turns more purposeful, squeezing at sensitive flesh, this knocked-out unph escapes her, like a bridled grunt he’s punched from her. Like a half-laugh, like a moan, like a mottled gasp, like discomfort and please-don’t-stop enmeshed, curbed out of desperation. It makes the red fucking neon. 
Harry withdraws with a pop from the bud, and the air bites onto the wet to replace his mouth. The ambiance of rickets and cold reminds her that they’re kind of, sort of, definitely in public, only really shielded from said public (and the intrusive presence of their friend group) by thin sheets of nylon erected with plastic poles. Her eyes say it all then — this hesitation sparking, lashes bouncing and bounding from the nervous shift of her pupils, working from his eyes to his plush mouth and back as he rises to settle over her more. 
“They’re asleep,” he promises, a hushed murmur he seals to her own mouth in a sloppy half-kiss. His top lip ghosts over her cupid's bow, and he smooths a hand back over the vale of her waist where he’d squeezed a second ago. Her chest rolls under him, and her mouth parts, just a little to let a mottled little sound escape, like a wheezing gasp she’s muffled. 
And he muffles it more with his own lips, pressing against her. The sleeping bag rustles, and it’s quiet beyond the stilted sheets barring the wilderness. Harry’s hand skims down. 
“Where do you want me to touch you?” Harry murmurs into her mouth, palm trailing until it stills at the waistband of her shorts, fingertip lingering over an expanse of skin below her belly button that he’s well aware will have her squirming. Y/N jerks. “Here? Or… maybe…”
The young woman practically does a squished, weighted version of a body roll beneath him when he moves his hand to her inner thigh, dragging the pad of his index over the sensitive skin higher up. “Maybe …here? …No, I don’t think so…” 
His tongue licks into her mouth when she opens wider for him, desperate for the taste of him on her tongue, and she nearly gasps over that same tongue — loudly — when his palm cups unceremoniously between her legs. “…I think you want me here. That’s about right, isn’t it?” 
Y/N makes a little noise — it’s something between desperation and wordless agreement, and it quirks the corners of Harry’s mouth, carving dimples in beside his smug beam. The hand withdraws so suddenly she wants to melt into the hungry soil. 
“Yeah, that’s it, sweet thing,” he declares, voice hushed, a bass-deep admission soft-spoken and colored with teasing.
Instead, he presses up until he’s hovering over her and then knees his way back, and then his fingers tuck up under the waistband of her shorts. When he discards them into the beginnings of a pile of clothing beside them, coaxing her hips to rise up enough with a soft word, blood teems into her cheekbones, like it’s all new and foreign. 
It’s not. 
It’s the most comforting and familiar when he traces a fingertip over the cleft at the crotch of her panties, the most familiar when he shimmies his fingertips under the sides of the fabric at her hips and tugs those off, too. It’s familiar when he holds a leg up, fingers gentle at her calf, and sponges kisses up her leg from her ankle to her inner thigh. It’s familiar when his tongue dances over hot, slick, flesh in craving, when it rolls around her clit and circles back. When he’s amused by the proof that he was right, that she is soaked, and his ego inflates like a hot air balloon. It’s familiar in the draw of his tongue, in the brush of his lips, in the way his fingers brush over her thighs, over her hole, over the sensitive areas in between. It’s familiar in the way that she watches stars speckle in the darkness behind her clenched eyelids, in the way that Harry doesn’t let up even as she pants and wrings her own fingers into his curls. In the way that he only responds with a moan against her at the rough treatment of his scalp.  
It’s somewhere between heaven and hell, teetering on the wire, when he laps over her pulsing cunt. His irises flicker up when she shudders, when Y/N makes a futile attempt to clasp her thighs over his head and prevent the light drag of his tongue over her oversensitive button. Instead, he tucks a palm against one of her legs and holds it down, plush lips curling around an ‘o’ and sucking. Every muscle seizes, her fingers twitching and struggling to curl into the thinly stuffed fabric of the sleeping bag. She bridles a whole-body thrash, neck straining as her breath stutters. 
“Please— plea— it’s too much—“ Y/N swallows midway her begging to avoid choking on her own spit, and that’s cute, Harry thinks. 
Aw, Y/N thinks he’d coo up at her from between her thighs, if his mouth wasn’t occupied at her core, those are pretty words. They don’t sound like a safeword, though. 
He doesn’t say that, though. He doesn’t say anything, humming quietly over her clit (honestly, she can’t tell if it’s in protest or agreement) and rolling a slow circle over nerves that are spent and nearly raw post his caress. 
Her chest is still rolling when he clambers his way up onto her, kneeing around her sides and then coaxing her arms up into a stretch. Harry cages those with firm thighs at the roots of the limbs, kneeing his way higher until he’s hovering over her chest and admiring her, all pliant and worn out and obedient beneath him. He sniffs, head cocked and eyes glimmering, and then sighs when he tucks fingers into the waistband of his shorts. Her fingers twitch, outstretched above her. And he’s weightless, and steady, and careful over her, but despite that, filth from his tongue punches her breath out like he’s sat directly over her lungs.
“Gonna suck my cock, baby.” 
It’s not really a question — not in tone. It’s a coo, a declaration, insight before Harry digs his fingers further past elastic and discards two layers of fabric with one tug, and his cock bobs free, glistening with a bead of precum at the head. 
Y/N swipes out over her lips with her tongue, and the sheen of spit over pink nearly matches the glimmer on the pink of his tip. The man cradles his free hand over his base and tucks the waistband lower on his hips, just until it rests under his balls and a glimpse of inked laurels and milky expanses of a bare tan line are on show. Bracing himself with a hand planted on the ground, Harry leans over her and aims his shaft, daubing over the plush of her mouth. When her tongue peeks out to swipe over the silky skin, she thinks he’s going to chastise her for her lack of patience. He doesn’t. Instead, he ogles down at the motion like she’s a goddess, cracks in otherwise apathy morphing; a light crease between his brows, a twitch in his lips. The same lips part for a shuddery breath like he’s trying to reign in his composure. And with every drag of his head over her slippery, hungry taste buds, a slow, side-to-side swipe that seems to lose precision with each motion, those cracks in his control give more. His jaw sets and he takes a long breath in through flared nostrils, and then shifts the palm that’d settled on the ground to rest over her wrists. 
“M’gonna fuck your mouth,” Harry tells her, pupils scoping carefully from her lips to her own eyes in finality. “What do you do if you want me to stop?” 
Y/N blinks. Her fingers twitch. She bends the digits over his grip and squeezes, flexing and unflexing over his own fingers like code in a tempo of frenzy. His gaze doesn’t even flicker from the aim of his tip, and he draws it over her mouth like he’s in awe of the sight.
“Good girl.” 
The young woman takes in a breath, mouth parting over his head slightly, all doe-eyed. He smushes his cockhead to the open seam.
“Open up for me,” the soft croon is accompanied by the tilt of his head, and a stray curl dangles over his forehead when he swipes the tip over her lips, “Nice and wide. Show me that pretty tongue.” 
And it slinks from her mouth as if on mindless command. Harry smears his tip over it like a filthy greeting, and then he feeds his fat cock in, guiding it up until the point to where he’s able to shift his weight onto the hand that doesn’t coat her wrists, careful not to cause the confined joints any discomfort.
“That’s it,” his praise seeps out all breathy, barely over an awed whisper as he sinks in and her tongue flexes to encompass the drag towards her gag reflex, “That’s a good girl.” 
The pointed little end grazes over his balls. 
“Eyes up here, pretty thing,” Harry encourages, ducking his own chin. There’s something pretty in the dance of her lash line, in the way her pupils flit up to his shadowy face, the way her lips tuck over her teeth to cushion his shaft. The way her tongue stays stuck out, flexing under the welcomed intrusion, “…Wanna watch them get all teary.” 
It’s like she tries to appease him. It’s as if on instinct to his words, that her lashes flutter as she tries to peer up, the beginnings of a ready sheen glazing the pretty color there as her tongue twitches and her throat bobs in an attempted swallow.  
And Christ, does it feel good when she does that. 
Harry’s own neck cranes, the muscles there flexing and veins swelling there like little ropes pulled taut under his skin. He groans, and it makes her do it again. His brows are furrowed when he risks a glance down at the picture-perfect view, and his hips nudge forward a smidge, only for him to bask in the sight of her irises lolling back and her lashes batting. A hiss lips through gritted teeth like rain through a gutter, and his head cocks further as he smooths an index to rest over her palm. She doesn’t have her digits balled — not all the way — not until his forefinger rests in her reach. She squeezes over that, almost like it’s an anchor. Something grounding to tether her. 
“Shit,” he manages out, barely over a whisper to bite back a throaty groan, hips rolling and brows furrowed in pleasure, “Shit — you’re good. You’re so good—“
And it makes the twitch of her lashes melt into a flitting bat, the color there rolling back and hiding behind the flutter. She can’t exactly hum in acknowledgment, but Y/N makes this garbled sound around him — this desperate kind she’d only make with his shaft stuffed down her throat, and it’s loud. Too loud. He squeezes over her wrists with his thumb, hips slowing until he’s wedged in to the hilt, stilled with the tip of her nose pressed to the light dusting of his pubic hair.
And Y/N thinks she’s going to implode. She’s going to implode if she doesn’t suffocate over his cock first. 
“Shh, shh,” Harry wriggles the index she’s gripping until her touch loosens enough, and he’s able to stroke the tip over her palm, “Shh.” 
Her pupils flit up to him in this deliciously delirious way for air. Harry tips his head down, the shadow of another curl flopping over his forehead. His cock twitches. Y/N makes another sound over him, this one lower. More pleading. More distressed. Her lashes flutter, cheeks puffing. Just when she’s about to clench and unclench over his fingers, he pulls out. It’s nearly all the way, but not quite, and she wheezes oxygen into her deprived lungs, muffling a fit of coughing. When she turns her head to take in more air, his tip slips out and draws a wet streak of saliva from the corner of her mouth across her cheek. 
“So pretty,” Harry murmurs. His tone sounds distant, and absentminded, and awed, like her mouth is divine and his voice is sort of full of worship, “You take me so well.”
Y/N blinks up at him, lips swollen post his ministrations and parted, slick with spit. Harry adjusts his grip, balancing his weight, and curls his lengthy digits over the base of his cock, aiming it back to that pretty, pretty mouth. 
Her jaw practically unhinges at the implication, tongue sticking out to daub at his cockhead when he croons, “And you’ll take a little more for me, sweetheart. Won’t you?” 
The sultry plush of his mouth curls up, all smug like when the tip of her tongue prods at his head, and then he feeds himself back into the warmth of her mouth. 
“Yeah,” Harry grunts, hips rolling slow and cautious as he guides himself in, “Yeah, you will.” 
He settles back into a pace of shallow, jutting thrusts, slow, and calculated, and testing. But then those melt and meld into something smoother, something deeper that brushes the back of her throat. Her fingers stretch wide and open and curl helplessly, never quite squeezing over his own digits, and Harry basks in the wet, pornographic sounds that envelop his shaft. Even as she tries to dim their volume, the sound of her sputtering around his cock isn’t something she can exactly mask when he brushes her gag reflex, again, and again. With every prod forward, every second she spends with her jaw wide open for him, that flame in her core kindles higher and higher. When he pulls out, jaw clenched and tummy flexing, ridges of his abs caught in the shadows, it’s like he pours kerosene. 
“Suck,” her friend tells her, soft-spoken as he nudges with his hips. His palm cradles his cock, fingers curled under the base. But her range of motion is limited, and Harry tips it up from her wanton, slick lips. Almost like it’s purposeful, because it definitely is.
A tentative tongue slips out to draw over his balls, and the way his front teeth lodge against the plush of his bottom lip, head cocked to indulge in the innocuous peer of her eyes beneath him — that’s a pretty sight she can make out even through the lack of light. She takes a million mental snapshots with her pupils, all of him in his all, curls dangling from the angle and the sharp line of his nose, his panting mouth as her tastebuds drag, sinew of muscle at his abdomen flexing, a rise and fall. The barest shape of the dark anchor etched into his wrist, his long, ring-clad fingers, the way they curl over his cock. The shape of it hovering over her face. 
A low groan squeezes past the door he’s made with his teeth, and then he says, “Yeah. There. Go on.” 
Her tongue morphs to her mouth, lips latching over lightly and sucking, just as he’d directed, and parting teases paste to him like doting kisses. Her lashline bounces as her eyes attempt to make his responses out through the rough angle and the dark that coats them. His head craned back there, his tummy rising and falling in pants there, his face tipped down over her to watch. The most insightful — and frankly, the most satisfying — are the sounds. 
The hisses of air he sucks in through his teeth, the way huffs fall out from between his open lips. They’re slow, and they come out like he’s trying to control them for the sake of the decibel, but they shake as they escape, and that’s a telltale. And then there’s the moans. 
There aren’t many of those to indulge in, but there’s a couple, one that Harry can’t seem to curb, despite his seemingly best efforts, when Y/N rolls her tongue over him all slow-like and comes off with a pop. And then another, later, that has him hanging his head when she stipples kisses to the sensitive skin there. 
“Christ, you’re gonna kill me.” 
The young woman hums, maybe in agreement or maybe goading, lashes batting innocently beneath him as she draws her lips over his sac aimlessly. 
“Fuck,” Harry mutters, and then he stifles and clams up like he’s contemplating. When her tongue drags over him again he seems to make a decision, tearing himself away and kneeing his way back until he’s hovering over her thighs, his cock bobbing and wet with spit, “Sit up. Take this off.” 
Do this, do that. A shudder climbs up the knobs of her spine, slithering its way up the bone as she basks in the dominating note plucking at his tone. The sweatshirt catches on her hair and tugs strands, but it’s frenzied, somehow fond, the way his hands rove up her sides and slip up her back, roaming over hot skin to toggle at the back of her bra.
Then it’s, “Roll over,” with the last of her clothing discarded into the darkness, somewhere beside them in the same, sloppy pile with her shorts and her underwear. “Gonna—“ she thinks he sheds his t-shirt then, imagines his muscles rippling and flexing as he pulls it off, over his head from the back, “—fuck you like I want your snug cunt wrapped around me forever.” 
And then go his shorts, judging by the way his weight dips and balances, the shuffling from behind as he kicks them off and they’re flung somewhere by his ankle. He presses up onto her, grappling her by the hip, all warm weight and everything brushing together. 
“You wanna bounce on my cock, baby?” Harry murmurs, pink lips grazing her temple. A curl tickles at her cheekbones when he ducks to skim his teeth over her earlobe, to ghost a breath of promise — of foreshadowing against her neck when he tells her, sultry low and smooth like honey, “Be a good girl and ask Daddy nicely. Maybe then I’ll let you.”  
Shit. Fucking Shit. That little word teems down her ears and hikes all the way down her nervous system and back up, lighting everything in her alive.  
Quietly, barely over a whisper, Y/N beckons, “Please.” And when Harry doesn’t immediately move, she licks out at her slips, swallows, and pleads, “Daddy. I need you. Need you inside.” 
In response, her friend cups a hand over a love handle and guides his cock to press against her. But he doesn’t breach. 
“Better, but not quite,” he sighs. There’s leaves rustling outside in the gentle breeze, but Y/N doesn’t hear anything besides the rush of blood in her ears when she begs more, and it doesn’t get any quieter when Harry rewards her by tucking himself inside and pumping forward, just about halfway. 
It’s a crying shame when he doesn’t make any motion to keep going. And then it’s quiet besides their panting breaths intermingling. Eventually, though, he does talk.
“Fuck yourself on it,” Harry instructs, cadence ludicrously controlled given that half of his cock is tucked into her. Y/N peers over her shoulder to catch glimpses of his furrowed brows — the rip in the stitch of semblance. She can only manage to see so much. He ducks his head and nips at the shell of her ear, coaxing tingles down her neck, her shoulders, all the way from her nape. “Go on. Don’t pretend to be shy about it.” 
Fucking fuck. How can she not be, she thinks, when he talks like that? 
There’s a heat that seeps over her the crest of her cheekbones where he can’t see, and she squeezes over him in response to the filth. Harry settles back up. From the corner of her eye, Y/N notes lines of muscle shaping his arms as he hovers over her. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she arches her hips up a tad and nudges back. It’s not enough — it’s maybe an inch, and she rocks forward by pressing her hips down and then repeats the motion. Just as there was a lack of control over her shame when he spewed dirty, brazen, filth, there’s also a lack of motion when she’s rolled forward with her tummy pressed to the ground. There’s only so much — so many inches she can ride back on when she’s rendered immobile. 
He knows it, too — it’s obvious by the poorly muffled note of mirth in his tone from behind, “Good girl. But you can do better than that, can’t you?” 
Helplessly, Y/N grits her teeth, fingers tangling into the fabric of her sleeping bag as she rolls her hips back in another attempt. It’s stuttery, and awkward, and not really a seamless, Shakira-esque roll at all. It’s a poor shuffle, hips raising more than traveling back. 
“Come on,” Harry goads, tutting like her tries are half-assed and she’s not currently exerting her body into creating motions that are simply unrealistic, “Take it proper. You want it? Then take it. Show me.” 
Camping is supposed to be wholesome. Camping is supposed to be laughter, and deep, pure breaths of air that scrub out the tainted glaze of city life from the walls of your lungs, sticky like cigarette smoke residue on the walls of a house. It’s hiking boots stuffed with the thickest socks. It’s marshmallows on twigs over curdling flames that lick up, it’s flashlights, and spooky myths and legends verbalized, and more laughter. 
Instead, Y/N is camping, and she’s currently barely grinding over inches of Harry’s cock. 
“I can’t,” she grits out, frustrated, but it sounds more like a whine than anything with bite.
“You can’t? Sure you can, pet,” Harry grapples over her hip, bracing on one arm in, honestly, an impressive showcase of athleticism, and manually rakes her hips back over him. It allows for more — more of him, more of his cock, more of his touch. More of him splitting her open and spreading her apart over him. “Just like this, right?” 
She’s sure he must be meeting her at least a quarter, if not halfway, though. It all feels like a devious ploy. Y/N whines. He makes this amused sound then, one of those puffs expelled through his nostrils like a half-laugh, accompanied by a hum. And then he pulls out and pumps his hips forward, until he’s flush to her backside, and then reverses and repeats. Three times. He gives her three, good, long, full thrusts, smoothing out to the tip and in to the root until she’s stuffed, just like he’d promised. Then, he presses in all the way and just basks in her heat. 
“Better?” Harry asks, but his tone catches on a quiet grunt and wavers in its prior composure. She squeezes over him, really squeezes, and he muffles a groan with the seal of his mouth. For a second, he doesn’t say anything at all, and then the filth spills again. It’s odd how patronizing he can sound, despite the way her cunt so obviously affects him, “Need Daddy to do all the work, is that it?” 
Y/N hums. There isn’t much she can say to disagree because it’s good. At some point, his slow rolls morph into sharp juts, and the brace of his arms bends and gives until his chest is flush to her back. 
“Please, please, please, please,” Y/N croaks out the mantra, muzzled by the smush of her cheek to the ground with the pressure of his hand palming at the side of her skull. 
“Shh,” Harry rocks forward, fingertips twitching into her roots like a meld of petting and admonishment. He rocks into her until he’s flush against her backside, splitting her over him to the hilt, “Shh …don’t need to beg, sweetheart. You can have it. Have it all.”
He’s warm weight over her, hard muscle like hot, sticky stone as he works into her from behind. He’s a welcome stretch, a pleasant burn, inches of bliss that her spongy walls cling to in a warm hug. He’s tips of curls brushing over her cheeks, filthy words in a murmur flush to the shell of her ear, little, repressed grunts and shuddery exhales as his hips rock. He’s a headlock that squeezes over her throat deliciously and keeps her neck craned back. It’s in this perfect way that almost has her gasping for breath. 
The young woman practically bites into her tongue to curb a nearly animalistic groan that climbs from the depths of her chest and squeezes out past her detained windpipe. She doesn’t need to try as hard when his opposite arm shimmies up over the poorly-cushioned sleeping bag, when his hand clamps against her mouth, palm smushing over her lips. Instead, her high whimper catches on his skin and muffles out. Her nostrils flare over his digits when Harry shushes and chastises through grunts. 
“I know, baby. I know. Need you to be — shit — a good, quiet girl for me, though.”
Her irises nearly loll back into her skull, fluttery for the ceiling of fabric in their sockets at the dominating tone of his cadence. 
“Gonna be good for me? Make me—“ his words taper off when he muzzles a groan with the seal of his own lips, and what comes out is hushed, and masculine, and obviously bridled. But it doesn’t make her as hungry as when he beckons, “—Make me pleased with you?”
Because she wants to please him, wants to be good, wants his digits to press harder over her tongue when he slinks them into her mouth. It’s not her fault when the motion siphons a whimper. So Harry does — press harder that is, an inclination for her lips to wrap over his fingers, his chin tucked over her shoulder. His mouth presses to her temple, gracing her with puffs of air through his nose as he rocks into her.
“There we go,” Harry coos, soft and barely over a whisper when her mouth seals over the intrusive digits, “There’s a good girl. Let’s keep those pretty sounds to ourselves.” 
He rocks into her until she’s whining into his hand, until they’re really slick with sweat, and he’s grazing at his own peak, working until it unravels him from the inside out. She’s still making hushed sounds against his palm when he groans all low into her hair and his motions melt into something stuttery, when he empties ribbon after ribbon as she clenches over him and milks him through it.
He’s probably going to rifle through the dark for some discarded fragment of fabric to clean the mess. It’ll be haphazard on account of the night, and she’ll still feel the sticky remnants, dried up at the peaks of her inner thighs in the morning. But it won’t really be gross. Sort of a sordid, morning-after keepsake, sort of a dirty thrill as they pack their stuff among the others in their cohort. Sort of, probably, an excuse to fuck later in the day when they have a moment alone to themselves, reminiscing on the night before. 
But before that, he’ll probably clean his mess and run a hand down the vale of her side in a praising caress, like he normally does. Probably lay next to her for a bit before sneaking off to his own tent because, even though they’re just friends that fuck, he’s never been weird about cuddling — aftercare is sort of a must. He’ll probably say goodnight with another searing kiss, the kind that burns deep inside, because every time he leaves is kerosene actively poured into the pit of a bonfire. Because every time he leaves, she wants him more.
Tomorrow they’ll still be friends. 
Just friends that fuck.
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finelinefae · 1 month
Text
rose [tattooH x innocenty/n]
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synopsis: Harry's a tattoo artist who can't figure out the best way to say how in love he is with the flower shop owner next door
word count: 10.5k
content warnings: smut (first time oral f recieving, daddy kink, praise kink, virgin Y/N), brief mentions of violence
read part 1 here
this is a lot !! like a lot happens !! also everyone smiles a lot,, i can't help it they're happy
. . .
Harry had come to the conclusion that of all the things he had had to do in his twenty-six years of life - all the things he had to do and say to get where he was today - saying I love you to his girlfriend was proving to be one of the most intricate tasks he had encountered.
And it wasn't because he didn't love her. From the moment she stepped into his tattoo shop with determination and fear all intertwined into one expression right up until now, he was pretty sure his relationship with Y/N was the physical embodiment of what it meant to be loved and to love in return.
He had learnt so much about the sweet, pretty girl next door. From her little habits and small quirks that she didn't think he ever noticed.
Y/N loved wearing Harry's clothes. He had bought a new band tee from an online shop one of his friends had recommended to him. When the parcel hadn't arrived on time, he wondered if it had gotten lost in transit or they'd delivered it to the wrong address. He had emailed them once or twice to see its whereabouts only to find the Fleetwood Mac t-shirt on the body of his girlfriend asleep on his sofa when he came home from work. "But Harry, they're so soft and comfy!" She argued when he accused her the next morning. "Know that baby but I need clothes to wear." He was trying not to smile and pinch her cheeks when he caught a glimpse of her pouty lips. "But Harry-" He couldn't help but interrupt her with a quick kiss to her lips, "Can use some of my old shirts flower, y' can pick them out. C'mon sweet girl," He led her to his wardrobe and let her scramble through the box of his old shirts.
She loved being praised. Harry thought it was the cutest thing ever when he'd compliment her or tell her how good she was for him and her cheeks would turn a dusky pink colour. He'd often find himself kissing the crescent moon-shaped dimples on her cheeks whenever she'd beam up at him after he mumbled sweet praises into her ear, "M' good girl," He'd say, "Best girl, m' favourite flower."
She loved physical touch from him and him only. His favourite time of day was coming home after a busy day of working and finding his darling girl sitting up in bed, either reading or watching TV, waiting for him in his favourite soft, satin pyjamas she wears (he loved the feel of them under his hands whenever he held her). She'd make grabby hands for him as soon as she saw him walk through the door of her bedroom, wanting to touch him almost immediately. He'd kiss her a few times, run his fingers through her hair, stroke her cheek and brush his fingers over her arm. Even when they were walking through the streets of the town, Y/N would often cling to Harry - feeling anxious being around too many people. He'd comfort her with soothing touches, rubbing circles on the pulse point on her wrist to make sure she was okay.
There were so many things Harry had come to adore about his favourite girl in the entire world. From the way she'd look at him with big rounded eyes as though he hung up the moon and stars in the sky or knew the answer to everything she asked, to the way she'd melt under his touch whenever they'd do something even slightly intimate. He was so in love... He just didn't know how to tell her that.
Harry had never been in a serious relationship before so the idea of love didn't come easy to him. He had spent the majority of his life believing he was destined to be lonely, finding himself in one-night stands and never getting past the first date for lack of connection. He didn't know what romantic love looked like, felt like or even if it existed at all until he met his favourite flower. 
Moments would crop up where he could feel the first syllable spike the tip of his tongue but invisible hands wrapped themself around his neck as he tried to let the words out. Y/N would sit patiently, waiting for him to continue speaking, but he'd just end up kissing her, hoping he could communicate his words without saying them.
He wasn't quite sure what he was expecting when it came to saying those three simple words, words that carried so much weight between them. Maybe it was because he wanted the moment to be special and memorable for her, so he waited for the perfect opportunity to confess. But the anticipation was driving him a bit crazy.
It was very early Wednesday morning. Y/N was cutting up sheets of tissue paper since it was nearing winter and people would be out buying gifts soon for their loved ones. She had ordered a bunch of new seed packets and planned to make little gift sets to sell.
Harry was sitting at the workshop table in the middle of the shop. He was wearing his shorts and a black hoodie with the hood pulled over his head. He wore his worn-out, white Vans as if they were slippers, with the left shoe dangling precariously from his toes, threatening to slide off at any moment. His tired eyes tried to remain focused on counting the coins for Y/N's till since she always miscalculated and would have to go visit him for more money even though his shop was cashless which he reminded her every time as he slipped her a five-pound note from his own back pocket.
The shop was silent in the early hours of the morning as the two worked separately. Y/N enjoyed that she didn't constantly have to make conversation with her boyfriend for him to be interested. They were happy to just be in each other's company for as long as possible.
"Baby," Harry's raspy voice broke the comfortable silence between them. Y/N's head lifted naturally in response, "C'mere." He opened his arm out but his eyes were still trained on counting the coins.
Y/N smiled tiredly and walked over to him, tucking herself into his side and holding onto the arm that wrapped around her. He kissed the top of her head, "Didn't get to hold y' this morning, left me cold." He murmured against her.
"M sorry, H. It's always stressful when the season changes." She sighed, thinking about all the work she still had yet to do before autumn passed.
"S okay, just missed you is all." He hummed. Y/N turned herself so she was pressed against the worktop and looking up at him. She loved every version of Harry at all times of day but something about Harry in the morning made her swoon. He was so soft and cuddly, needy and grabby, she'd always have to pry his hands off of her in the morning so she could get to work on time.
Y/N grinned and leaned her head forward, past the hood of his sweatshirt, to kiss him. "Wanted to ask you if y’ would come on a date with me this Saturday.” He whispered, eyes still closed from kissing her.
Every eight weeks, Y/N’s shop would close for the entire weekend. Since her shop was open most days, she wanted to give herself at least some time off to look forward to. Harry knew that particular weekend was coming up because of how much she was looking forward to it so he made sure to free up his weekend too so he could take her out for the day. 
They had been on dinner dates and done a few other things here and there but there was only so much they could do in their small town. So as soon as he thought of the idea, he booked train tickets to take Y/N to the coast for the day. 
“Hmmm,” Y/N sighed, reaching into his hood to wrap her arms around his neck, his skin warm against her touch. “Where would we go?”
“S a surprise,” He whispered into her ear, his breath warm. 
“I’d love to go on a date with you Harry,” She replied, voice soft. 
“Yeah? It’ll be cold so you’ll need to wear a sweater.” He told her. 
"I only own sweaters," She rolled her eyes, pushing away from him so she could get back to work.
"Yeah, my sweaters." Harry teased.
Y/N narrowed her eyes, "Get back to counting those coins or you'll be fired."
"Yes ma'am," He couldn't stop smiling to himself as he carried on counting each penny.
. . .
The small train was busy on the way to the coast on Saturday morning but luckily they had managed to grab two seats next to each other by the window. Y/N insisted that they listened to one of the very many playlists she had curated for them both to listen to. It wasn’t long into their relationship that Harry had come to realise that music was one of Y/N’s love languages. 
He remembered when he first moved in and heard her music through the walls of her apartment as he bought his food shopping up the stairs his first night. The music played well into the night and he had planned to knock on her door and ask her to turn it down like she had done to him the day they had first met, but his ears caught onto her singing. He pressed his ear up against the door and listened as she sang to herself whilst dishes clinked together. She wasn’t the best singer he had ever heard but something about her soft voice soothed him, so he turned around and went about his night with the girl singing next door. 
Y/N pulled out her wired earbuds not long after they’d sat down and gave one of them to Harry. After Hours by The Velvet Underground started playing and Harry smiled to himself as he watched Y/N gaze out the window of the train. He reached for her hand which was covered by her fingerless gloves she had crocheted herself and intertwined their fingers together. 
The train pulled into the final station an hour later. Harry held tightly onto Y/N as people bustled to get on and off the train at the same time. The weather wasn’t perfect when they had arrived - slightly overcast and grey - but it didn’t stop Y/N from gasping at the sight of the ocean in front of her. 
“Harry look!” She pointed as the waves rolled into the shore. She looked adorable in her white hat and earmuffs, her white puffer coat made her look like a giant marshmallow. She was almost matching Harry, in his black puffer coat and green bobble hat. 
“Y/N! Slow down baby,” He called for her as he ran to catch up with her. 
They walked down the steps and onto the beach which was practically void of any people other than a few dog walkers. He was thankful he had told her to wear a thick coat since the wind was bitter and cold. Harry’s smile was so wide, that his dimples pierced each one of his cheeks as he watched her run around in her UGG boots and leggings. 
“Beautiful,” Harry whispered, hoping the words would get caught in the wind and blow straight to her so she could hear them. 
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen the sea,” She closed her eyes and inhaled the fresh sea air. Harry came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. 
They walked side by side with each other. Harry held Y/N’s hand inside the pocket of his coat and every once in a while, she would stop to pick up a shell which she would pass to him to put in his other coat pocket. At some point, it started to drizzle down with rain but they carried on walking and talking along the beach. 
Harry would watch as Y/N ran up to the sea to pick up bits of sea glass and try to not get caught by the water. She looked adorable as she ran up the beach looking back at him with her woolly hat and giant coat swamping her. Strands of hair stuck to her damp, rosy cheeks as rain dripped from her coat since they had been out so long. He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of her as she crouched down to look at something she’d found in the sand. He made a mental note to share it on everything he possibly could so everyone in his life would know how much he loved her, even if she didn’t know just yet. 
Harry swore he was going to tell her he was in love with her right there and then but his heart fell out of his chest when he watched her trip and stumble back onto the sand. “Y/N,” He rushed over, immediately wanting to check if she was okay, only to be met with her giggling and laying back on the sand like a starfish on land. 
“Lay here with me,” She patted the spot next to her. 
The last thing Harry wanted to do was get his new black trousers wet and dirty from the sand but he would do anything and everything she asked him to do so he fell onto the sand and laid right next to her. 
His pinky finger hooked with hers as they both looked up at the sky, “Are you happy flower?” He asked.
“I think this is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life,” She confesses and the words make Harry’s heart grow ten times the size. “I think spending time with you is when I’m the happiest Harry.”
When it reached past midday, Harry took Y/N to grab something to eat before they had to take the train home again. Their coats were dripping when they stepped inside the small cafe Harry had picked out for them. The kind owner had even offered to dry them both for them before they had to leave again. 
“Harry,” She gasped, “They do blueberry pancakes!” 
Harry smirked, not wanting to tell her that he had picked this cafe specifically because they made one of Y/N’s favourite foods, “Really? Tha’s your favourite right baby?”
She nods, “I’m gonna get that- ooo it even comes with the option of honey or syrup!” Y/N beams. 
By the time their food had arrived, they were well invested in conversation, “Was thinking of getting my ear pierced next weekend. One of my mates has free space and thought it would be fun to get a hoop or something.” Harry tells her. 
Y/N paused on chewing her pancake as she pictured her boyfriend with a hoop earring. She swallowed down her food before getting out, “That would be hot.”
Harry laughs at her bluntness, “Yeah?” He smirked, “You think so?” Y/N nodded, her cheeks tinged pink. 
Although they kissed and made out at any spare moment they could, they hadn’t really branched out from the time Harry had touched her for the first time. Y/N knew Harry was trying to be patient about it - he was a gentleman like that - but she was going crazy not having his ring-clad hands touching her skin, providing that ecstasy he had given her a glimpse of for the first time.  
“Y alright there flower?” Harry crooned, “Anything on your mind you’d care to share.”
Y/N shook her head, ridding them of her dirty thoughts, “M okay, H.” 
“Alright,” His eyes twinkled as he smiled at her, “You look beautiful by the way.”
“Thank you, Harry,” Her eyes softened, “And thank you for bringing me here today, I’ve loved being here with you.”
Harry parted his lips as if to respond, but found himself speechless, the words trapped somewhere in his throat. Y/N looked at him expectantly, her eyes silently urging him to express whatever was on his mind. With a sigh, his shoulders slumped, and he finally spoke, "I've loved being here with you too. I love every moment I get to be with you." Y/N beamed as Harry inwardly cursed himself for being unable to articulate the depth of his feelings. Yet, as he saw the radiant smile spread across Y/N's face, he couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth and contentment wash over him, knowing that his words were enough to reach her for now. 
After the train journey home, which took slightly longer than anticipated, Harry carried Y/N up to her apartment and into her bedroom where he slumped her down on her bed. Y/N hummed at the feeling of her warm, cosy sheets beneath her. “Comfy m’love?” He grinned, tugging the sleeves of his coat off so he was just in his white t-shirt and black trousers. 
“I’m so sleepy,” Y/N sighed, eyes closed whilst Harry tugged her shoes off as her feet dangled over the edge of the bed.
“Cause you’ve been running around all day huh? Could barely keep up with you half the time.” Harry briefly massages the souls of her feet after taking both her shoes off, knowing they were probably aching from running on the beach all day.
“But it was sooo much fun,” Y/N whined, her tired eyes peering down at Harry.
“Yeah, yeah, I know that lovie. Need to get y’ out of these clothes so I can put them in the wash.” He tugs on her leggings.
“Can you do it?” Y/N asks, “M too tired.”
Harry pauses, “Y’ sure baby? Don’t want y’ to be uncomfortable.” 
“M sure Harry, I trust you.” She tells him.
He smiles to himself as her words settle in the space between them. A smile curves his lips almost involuntarily, reflecting the quiet gratitude he feels towards her trust.  “Alright, lift y’ hips for me, flower.” He instructs and Y/N does as she’s told, lifting her hips so he can pull down her leggings leaving her in her pink lacey panties. 
Harry swallows as he sees the apex of her thighs. He hadn’t seen this much of her before and he could already feel himself harden in his jeans at the sight of her. “Think y’ can sit up for me flower? Jus’ so I can’t take your sweater off?” He tries to stop staring at her bare legs but he can’t seem to take his eyes away.
Y/N groans but does as she’s told, sitting up and putting her arms up so Harry can remove the sweater from her torso. Her eyes are still shut and Harry gently pulls the soft sweater over her head. 
When her eyes open, the first thing Y/N sees is Harry standing above her with his gaze fixed on her figure and she realizes this is the most he's ever seen of her yet. She had nothing but a vest and underwear to cover her body. Y/N was pretty sure he could see the curve of her breasts and the outline of her nipples through the thin, white material. 
“Harry…” she whispers, suddenly realising what was happening, how the temperature in the room had suddenly shifted.
Y/N shivered as Harry cupped her cheek and bent forward to kiss her. She leaned backwards onto the bed, resting on her elbows as Harry kept his hold on her cheek, using his other hand to place on her hip as he crawled on top of her. His hand was warm and big and his fingertips pressed into her skin sending a joint of electricity down through her body. 
They kissed and Harry groaned as Y/N uncontrollably rolled her hips into him, “Harry,” Y/N repeated, placing her hands on his chest.
“What baby?” He asks.
“I-I feel strange,” She confesses, not really knowing how to go about telling him what was on her mind.
Harry furrowed his eyebrows, “What’s wrong?”
Y/N shook her head immediately, “N-no nothing’s wrong. It’s just… Remember last time? When you…” she couldn’t seem to finish her sentence, too embarrassed to describe what Harry had done when he taught her how to touch herself.
“What about it?” He wonders, patience and curiosity on his face.
“I-I want to do it again but different.” She cringed at her words, “I mean, I want to try something new. L-like I want you to show me something new I mean.” 
Harry’s features softened, “Yeah? You want me to take care of you huh?”
Y/N nodded, relieved he understood what she was hinting at without her having to admit it herself, “Yes.”
“What do you want me to do baby?” He kisses down the side of her neck, Y/N’s head rolling to the side to give him more room to explore her skin.
“I-I don’t know,” 
“Oh I think you do flower otherwise you wouldn’t be asking for something new to try would you?” He sucks on the skin of her neck and she whines at the feeling. His green eyes meet hers as he lifts his head up, “C’mon sweet girl, tell daddy what you want from him.” 
Her mouth fell open and her heart beat erratically in her chest, “I-I need you down there daddy.” 
“Yeah? You want daddy to touch you down there baby?” 
“Y-yes daddy please.”
“Still so polite.” Y/N seemed to melt as he crawled down her placid form, he could do anything to her and she wouldn't mind as long as he was touching her in some way.
She suddenly gasped when she felt him blow warm air onto her nipple beneath her vest. “Can I lift your vest baby? Can you let daddy see these cute tits?” 
“Mhm,” She hummed, her body vibrating with excitement and nerves. Harry’s fingertips brushed the skin of her tummy as he pulled her vest up to reveal her breasts. 
“Fuck baby,” Harry groaned. “You’re so beautiful.” 
“Your shirt too!” Y/N insisted, feeling a little insecure as Harry was still in his white shirt.
Harry was quick to pull off his shirt to reveal his tattooed torso that Y/N had traced and slept on almost every night since they had met. Her hands were immediately on his warm skin as he kissed down the swell of her breasts. Y/N gasped as Harry gently pressed a kiss to her left nipple, sliding his other hand up to cup her other one, “See that? Y’ were made for daddy.” He said as her breast fit perfectly in his hand. 
“Daddy I need you,” Y/N whispered.
“Such a greedy girl.” He tuts, “Trying to worship you ‘n you’re just begging me to make you cum.” 
“N-no-” Y/N wanted to argue but Harry quickly kissed her lips before moving down her body. 
“Look at these pretty panties. Can already see you’re all soaked through them.” Y/N could practically hear the smile on his face. “Can I see baby?” 
“Y-Yes, daddy.” She swallowed back her nerves, even though Harry had already seen her down there, it was her first time experiencing someone be so up close. Y/N felt his fingers hook around the waistband of her panties until they were halfway down her thighs and waited for him to react.
“Fuck me,” Harry hisses. “Won’t ever get over the sight of this pretty pussy. Always manage to live up to y’ nickname, don’t y’ flower?” 
Y/N’s cheeks heat but before she has time to protest Harry leans forward and presses a kiss to her throbbing pussy. She snaps her thighs shut tightly and gasps, “W-what-“
“Shhh flower,” Harry kisses her knee and then gently hooks both her legs over either of his shoulders so she can’t close her thighs to hide away from him, “Daddy’s gonna take the ache away okay? Know you’ve been feeling all needy for daddy. Gonna do something that’ll help and put you right to sleep m’kay?”
Y/N swallows harshly and fists the fabric of the blanket beneath her. Her heart was racing and her belly was swirling with need and desire as she waited for Harry to do something.
He kissed the inside of her thighs, “You trust me?” He asked, waiting for her approval, “Because I’ll stop as soon as you say so, promise y’ that.” 
“Yes, daddy.” She said because she did trust him, wholeheartedly, “I trust you.”
“That’s m’ girl.” Y/N waited until she felt his warm breath blow over her pussy. His mouth pressed another kiss to her before she felt his tongue swipe across her slit. Y/N gasped at the unfamiliarity of it as he flicked his tongue softly over her to get her accustomed to it. His eyes looked up to see Y/N’s reaction at the first touch of his mouth. He smirked to himself as her breasts heaved cutely and her cheeks were flushed pink. 
“Harry,” she whimpered.
“S not my name flower.” He murmured against her. 
She tried to close her thighs but Harry’s head lay buried between them, licking and stroking his tongue against her. He wrapped both his tattooed hands around her thighs to keep them open, pressing his fingertips into her plushy skin. “Daddy,” she whined.
He licks up her wet cunt once more until he finds her clit. Y/N jolts at the sudden attention to her sensitive bundle of nerves. His lips pucker against her tiny, pink clit glistening with arousal, a whimper eliciting from Y/N’s lip. He moves his tongue in circles around it before gently sucking on the small bud.
Y/N’s a writhing, whimpering mess beneath him as he licks and sucks on her clit, her wetness coating his chin. She bucks her hips against his mouth and quickly removes one hand from the bed to weave into his hair. Harry groans as she tugs on his curls, his cock leaking precum in his trousers, the vibrations going straight to Y/N’s clit. 
“Daddy, f-feels so good,” She mewls, continuing to tug on his hair. Harry ruts his hips against the mattress, in hopes he could get some relief as he continues his assault on her pussy. 
“Y' so fucking sexy Y/N.” He grumbled, unable to stop his attention from her weeping, little cunt.
Her thighs began to tremble as she felt the coil tighten in her belly. Harry’s hand removed itself from her thigh and slid up the bed to reach for her hand that wasn’t already in his hair. He intertwined their fingers as if comforting her without saying anything. 
He paused his assault on her clit, Y/N whimpering at the sudden loss. Instead, he flattened his tongue against her once more before dipping his tongue into her hole a little as if testing the waters to see whether she’d like it. Y/N’s back arched and Harry’s hand left hers to place itself flat against her tummy to hold her still, the cool metal of his rings made her shiver as they touched her skin. His tongue delved in and out of her, using his other hand to rub circles on her clit with his thumb.
Y/N’s mouth fell open, her head fell back and her legs turned to jelly. “Y close angel girl?” Harry murmured, peeking up at her to see her blissfully zoned out from his touch. 
“Feels s’ good daddy, s-so so so good,” She babbled her head lolling from side to side. 
“Wanna cum baby? Wanna make a mess on daddy?” He urged her, feeling her core clench. 
She jerkily nodded, “Mhmmm,” She hummed. 
“Lemme have it, baby, daddy worked so hard, lemme taste y’ cum.” He hastened his movements on her clit and continued to lick and suck at her pussy, “Cum f’ me baby.” He coaxed. "Can't wait to feel y' round my cock someday, practically begging to feel y' tight, little hole. 'm gonna be the first and only one to fill y' up, isn't that right? Gonna let daddy stretch you out and fill y' up. You're all mine, 'm favourite flower."
His filthy words set Y/N alight. She felt the coil snap as pleasure rushed through her entire body and filled all of her senses. Harry groaned, continuing to press himself up against the bed until he felt his own orgasm building too, his lips staying on Y/N as she came. He lapped up her juices, riding her through her orgasm and tasting all she had to offer for the first time. “That’s my girl baby, so good.” He cooed. 
Harry’s eyes rolled back as his cock released inside of his boxers, his head falling to the side and resting on the inside of her thigh as he breathed heavily, “Fuck,” He groaned, eyes rolling to the ceiling. 
The room was quiet other than the sounds of them trying to catch their breath. Harry kissed the inside of Y/N’s thigh and worked his way up her body, placing soft, spongy kisses on her bare skin until he was face-to-face with her. 
Harry grinned lazily, his eyes tired as he brushed the hair off her face. His heart stuttered; he felt himself losing his breath all over again despite having just come down from the high of his release as he looked down at his girlfriend. Her cheeks were flushed and her skin was glowing from the afterglow, tendrils of baby hairs framed her face and her eyes were hazy and soft as she looked into his own. 
“Thank you daddy,” She whispered to him. 
Harry pressed a kiss to her lips. Her legs hooked around his waist as he circled his arms around her to pull her in tighter, “You okay? Was that good? Not too much?” He wanted to make sure she was okay before anything else. He’d hate himself if he did something she didn’t like or didn’t want to do. 
“M okay,” She smiled, her voice tired. He kissed her once more knowing she could probably taste herself on his lips. “It felt good.” 
“Y’ made me cum,” He admits, feeling the discomfort of his own release in his boxers. 
“I did?” Y/N’s eyes widened, her lips parting in surprise. 
“Yeah, flower. That was so fucking sexy.” Y/N whined and tried to hide herself behind her hands. Harry chuckled at her reaction, grabbing her wrists to move her hand away and kissing her forehead before lifting himself from her. “Let’s get y’cleaned up.” 
Harry walked over to Y/N’s dresser to grab himself some clean boxers from the drawer he had curated from the nights he had spent with her. He also grabbed her some clean underwear and one of his shirts to wear to bed. 
In the bathroom, he got himself cleaned up and grabbed a cloth dampening it under the running water in the sink for his love who was waiting for him in bed. Harry paused at the door when he entered her room after he was met with a sight he longed to treasure in his mind forever. Y/N was lying completely bare on her bed. Her eyes were shut, her chest moving up and down and her hair was sprawled out around her. He didn’t know how he got so lucky with her, she was a living angel.
“C’mere flower,” He murmured, spreading her legs apart slightly and trying not to react to the sticky, glistening mess between her thighs. He placed the dampened cloth against her and calmed her down as she jolted beneath his touch from how sensitive she was. 
Once they were all cleaned up, Harry climbed under the blankets with Y/N half asleep against his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and ran a finger up and down the length of her spine beneath her shirt.  "Sleep now, flower," he whispered his voice a gentle caress in the quiet of the night. The warmth of his presence soothed Y/N to fall asleep. 
In the hazy blur of her consciousness, she murmured, words slipping from her lips without thought. "Love you," she breathed, the three words escaping her lips as effortlessly as a sigh, yet she remained unaware of what they meant. 
Harry stilled, his breath catching in his throat, “W-what?” But Y/N didn’t reply, instead, soft snores left her lips as she fell asleep beside him. 
. . .
It was the Friday after Harry had taken Y/N to the beach. Fridays were always busy at the tattoo shop so Harry was working away until the late hours of the evening. Y/N sat on a chair, her legs swinging backwards and forward as she played a game on Harry's phone. The sound of the tattoo gun hummed in the air whilst a bossa nova played over the Bluetooth speaker. Harry was still working despite the fact it was nearly time for Y/N to go to bed (She had a strict regime before bed which gave her exactly eight hours of sleep each night). He had promised her this would be his last customer as she waltzed into his tattoo shop, ready to go to his apartment together.
Harry hadn't mentioned to Y/N what she had unknowingly said in her sleep. When they woke up the next morning, he gently broached the subject, asking, "Hey, do you remember anything you said last night while you were asleep?"
Y/N, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, just shrugged in response. "Not really," she mumbled, her voice heavy with drowsiness. "Did I say something strange?"
"No, not at all," Harry assured her, though inwardly, he couldn't shake off the weight of her words. "Just thought you might've had a dream or something." But even as he spoke, he couldn't shake off the lingering memory of her whispered confession, playing over and over in his mind like a sweet melody. 
"Y' holding up okay there m'love?" Harry checked in, working on the final few finishing touches of the tattoo he had been working on.
"Mhm," She smiled but Harry could tell she was getting sleepy from the way he'd caught her eyes fluttering shut when he glanced over at her.
"Can go sleep on the couch out front if you're feeling sleepy." He offered, wanting to make sure his girl was okay before he finished off the tattoo for his customer. He knew first-hand how grouchy she got when she didn't get her sleep.
"M okay here Harry," She insisted, thinking she was lying to him well enough over how tired she was. "Can I watch?" She strained her neck to get a better look at what Harry was doing.
"Course flower, c'mere," Harry pushed his chair forward to give Y/N space to stand behind him so she could watch over his shoulder. He pushed down on the peddle and continued the tattoo as Y/N watched over him.
"Does it hurt?" She wondered, watching the needle press ink into the customer's skin.
"Jus' a little sting but when you've had so many it's not so bad," Harry replied.
Y/N watched in fascination. She was not only impressed by the design Harry had drawn out and tattooed to the customer so effortlessly but also how brave people must be to have such a permanent mark on their skin. She tilted her head to the side, "I want one," She mumbled.
Harry paused, "What?"
"Nothing," She replied, quickly.
Harry had heard what she said but decided he'd bring it up when there wasn't another person in the room, knowing how shy she got around people she didn't know.
After completing the tattoo, he wrapped it up and chatted with the customer for a little bit. Meanwhile, Y/N browsed through his tattoo design sketchbook with a furrowed brow. Once the conversation was done, he shut the door behind the customer and turned the sign to 'closed.'
He walked over to his seemingly overthinking flower and kissed the top of her head, "Wha's wrong m'love?" He smiled softly, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her into his chest.
"Jus' looking H," She tilted her head back to look up at him, kissing his chin in the process.
"Didn't know we were telling fibs tonight flower," He teased, spinning her around in his embrace.
"M not lying," She hid her face in his chest because he always knew when she was lying and she was most definitely lying.
"Can you look up f'me baby just f' a sec," He murmured and looked down to see the prettiest eyes he'd ever seen, round and sparkling under the blue lights of his shop. "Woah," He whispered to himself.
"What's wrong?" A crease appeared in between her brows.
"Nothin' just...you're so pretty," She whined, nuzzling her face into his neck to hide her very red face. Even though it was hard to tell under the blue lights, he knew she was blushing. "Hey, no, can I have a kiss please?" He cupped the back of her head and pulled her away from the comfortable spot in his neck.
Y/N stood on her toes to kiss him, tasting the tinge of eucalyptus lip balm she had given him when he had complained of having sore lips from kissing her too much in the colder weather. "So y' want a tattoo?" He murmured against her lips.
Y/N pulled away, "I-I was just thinking but-"
"You're not sure?" She nods. "Don't have to get a tattoo today m'love, especially if you're not sure." Harry comforted her, seeing the uncertainty on her face. He kissed the crease between her eyebrows but her eyes were fixed on a tattoo on his upper arm.
"Where'd you get that?" She asked, her fingers skimming over the small design. It was a fine line drawing of a pair of angel wings with a flower in the centre between each wing. Harry had designed it not long after meeting Y/N and had only tattooed the design onto himself a few days ago.
"Jus' a little something I drew 's all." He shrugged, "Reminded me of you."
Y/N's lips parted like she couldn't believe what he had just said, "For me?"
He nods, "Wanted to have you somewhere on me at all times."
Y/N goes quiet and Harry gives her the time to think as he packs away his things to head upstairs. By the time he's finished, Y/N's tugging on his sleeve and looking up at him with rounded eyes, "I think I'd like a tattoo, Harry."
Harry bit back a smile, "You do?"
"Mhm," She nodded, seeming sure of herself, "But I want you to do it."
"Wouldn't let anyone else do it anyways flower." He pulled out the kit he had just put away, not feeling annoyed in the slightest because he loved this girl and would set up his equipment all over again even if she decided she no longer wanted the tattoo anymore.
Y/N shimmied up onto the chair and glanced over at him, "What are you wanting on you baby?" He asked.
"I want the same one as you please Harry," She says, referring to the tattoo of the angel wings.
He smiles, "Wanna match with me, sweet girl?" He kisses her lips quickly.
Y/N nods, beaming up at him, "Yes please."
"So polite," He taps her cheek before going to his worktop and drawing out a stencil with a careful hand.  Y/N sat in the chair with her feet hovering above the ground. She was fiddling with her fingers in her lap as she glanced around at the designs she had admired many times before when she'd sit and wait for Harry whilst he worked.
"M'kay lovie, where'd you want it?" Harry asked.
"Oh," She pursed her lips, "I didn't think that far."
"Didn't think that far?" Harry chortled, "How about on your arm?” He squeezed her arm softly above the crease of her elbow, "Won't hurt too bad if we do it here."
"Okay Harry," She nodded, trusting him implicitly. Harry wanted to smother her in kisses with the way she was looking at him like she would do anything he said without even questioning it.
Harry prepped everything, making sure he had all he needed to start the tattoo. He went a little slower than he normally would, wanting to give her enough time to make sure she was certain about getting the tattoo. He mixed up the ink and switched on the tattoo gun as Y/N lay back against the leather chair.
"Y' okay flower?" Harry checked again, expecting to get the same answer he had already gotten only for her to chew on her lip and scrunch up the fabric of the skirt she was wearing.
"M a little nervous," She admitted, blushing.
"Hey it's okay to be nervous," He cooed, dropping the equipment and rolling over to her on his chair. He leaned against the seat she was lying in so his face was up close to hers, he brushed a few strands of hair from her face and the feeling of his hands calmed the nerves Y/N was feeling. "It'll hurt a little bit. Some people say it feels like a little like a tiny scratch but you get used to the feeling."
"But what if you start and then I don't want it anymore because it hurts?" She realises she should have asked these questions before they had gotten this far.
"Tha's why you need to be sure you want it sweet girl. Don't wanna see you in pain either but it's a small tattoo so won't take long and it's on your arm which means it hurts a little bit less." Harry explained.
"Okay," She nodded, "B-but can you distract me a little? It'll help if you distract me."
Harry smiled, kissing her lips, "Can distract you any way you want, baby. Here," He removed the dog tag necklace he wore all the time without failure and handed it to her, "Can fiddle with this while I draw on you."
Y/N felt her shoulders relax a little as she felt the cool metal in her hands, "Okay Harry." His lips pressed against her forehead, "Okay Y/N." He grinned.
Harry pulled on some gloves and got the tattoo gun running. Y/N went stiff as the humming sound filled the room but she reminded herself of Harry's words and continued to play with his necklace. "Okay, ready baby?" He gave her one last kiss for comfort and then, when she nodded her head, the needle made contact with her skin.
She gasped as the tiny needle pricked at her skin. It wasn't as painful as she thought it was going to be but it wasn't comfortable either. She tried to relax but her muscles were all tensed up.
Harry tried to comfort her as best as she could. Whispering words of encouragement, "So good baby, y' so brave." He'd say and tell her it would be over in a moment even though a moment felt like an eternity in her mind.
"Is it over yet?" She was starting to feel the discomfort and was already waiting for it to finish.
"Almost angel," He cooed and finished up the final lines of the drawing. "There we go, all finished."
Y/N let out a long breath she didn't know she was holding and immediately her eyes flickered down to the tattoo Harry had drawn on her. She was in awe of how beautiful and intricate the design was and how quickly Harry had managed to draw it so perfectly. It was a perfect size on her arm, the angel wings matched exactly the same as the ones Harry had done on himself. She almost squealed with how happy she was with her first ever tattoo and how it was a permanent reminder of her sweet and loving boyfriend.
Harry grinned as he watched her face light up when she saw the tattoo, "'Y like it?" He asked, preparing the cream and wrap to put on it before she did something that would get it infected - they both knew she would do that if he wasn't careful.
"I love it, Harry!" She grinned, her smile lighting up the whole room.
Harry laughed at her happiness, "You're welcome baby." He applied the cream and wrapped it up before she could move anywhere. Instead of leaping out of the chair, she wrapped her arms around Harry and pressed her lips to his. He hummed, "Best tip I've ever gotten." He murmured.
"I kinda want another one," She couldn't stop looking down at her tattoo and taking in how pretty it was.
"Woah, slow down there flower, think you should wait a while until the next one." He repressed a smile. "But I'll happily draw up another one f'you."
"Okay Harry," She said, not really paying much attention to him.
"Alright c'mon, le's go upstairs. Wanna kiss you in bed if tha's okay." He quickly put all of his equipment away as Y/N gawked at her tattoo.
"I think I'd love that more than the tattoo," She sighed. Harry decided not to pull her up on the fact she was probably telling another fib. 
. . .
"Y/N is that a tattoo!" One of her friends, Shakira, spoke out.
It had been two weeks since Y/N had gotten her first tattoo and she still wasn't over how pretty it was. Every morning she'd wake up and look at her arm and tell Harry how good of a job he did.
"No wonder you're a tattoo artist Harry!" She'd say, to which he'd just smile and sit patiently as she rambled about how much she loved her tattoo and how she wanted him to draw her another one.
"Oh yes!" Y/N rolled up the sleeve of her pyjama shirt so her friends could get a better look, "Harry did it. Isn't it pretty?" She sighed, thinking of her boyfriend who she hadn't seen since this morning.
Y/N had planned a slumber party at her place a few weeks ago since she hadn't seen her two friends, Shakira and Layla, in forever. She'd known them since high school and were the only two friends she really had other than Harry who was also her best friend. 
Harry had promised he'd stay away and give her some much needed girly time. Although Y/N didn't like the idea of being away from Harry, she knew it was needed. He had some things he needed to do anyway and she wanted to give him space to do that too.
"Do you think he could do one for me?" Layla asked, her arm already littered with small tattoos.
"I can ask him for you if you'd like," Y/N offered, receiving a nod from Layla.
"What's it like being in a relationship?" Shakira asked, "I mean Harry seems the complete opposite of you, I'd never have pictured you together."
Y/N smiles, thinking back to their first interaction and how intimidated she was by him. Now she couldn't get enough of him, wanting to be with him and touch him whenever she could. "I know but Harry's... I don't know, he's not like how people assume. He's kind, caring and lovable. We have a lot more in common than most people think and even the things we don't have in common, Harry always listens to the things I have to say even when he doesn't completely understand."
"Awwww!" Y/N blushed when she realised she had been rambling too much again.
"You're so cute Y/N," Layla grinned. "And we're so happy for you. Harry seems like a great guy."
"He is," Y/N agreed, shyly.
"Have you said I love you yet?" Shakira smirked.
Y/N's smile faltered, "N-not yet..." She looked away from their gazes, "But I think I'm just waiting for the right time. Harry always has these moments where I think he's going to say it but he never does and part of me thinks he's still questioning it." Y/N admits.
Layla offers her a sympathetic gaze, "I'm sure he's just waiting for the perfect moment to tell you Y/N. Saying I love you can be a pretty big deal for some people."
"I know," Y/N nods in agreement, "And I'll wait for him, however long it takes."
Y/N spent the remainder of the evening gossiping and watching movies with her two best friends. Now and then, she would look down at her phone just in case Harry had sent her anything but nothing appeared other than a blank screen. She couldn't help but feel a little bit deflated that he hadn't checked in on her like he usually would but she quickly pushed the feeling away. Harry had other things he was doing, she'd see him later.
"Thank you for having us Y/N! It was so good to see you, we need to do it again sometime," Y/N stood at the door to say goodbye to her friends. It was nearing midnight and she wondered if Harry was in his apartment waiting for her.
"Thank you for coming! I missed you guys," Y/N chirped, she really did miss having her girlfriends around. She was so busy with work and spending time with Harry, that she rarely had time outside of those things. But after today, she was going to make it a priority to see her friends again.
"See you later Y/N!" Her friends waved as they walked down the steps from her apartment. Y/N smiled and waved until they were out of sight. She planned on calling Harry to check in on him and see if he was alright but a crash from his apartment halted her steps.
She paused, stilling herself so she could hear a little better. Another thud came from his apartment followed by a string of curses and something that sounded like a clutter of things falling on the floor.
"Harry?" Y/N called through the door but received no response. "Harry, are you okay? It's me, it's Y/N."
"Y/N," Harry's voice murmured through the door. Y/N relaxed a little at the sound of his voice but she was still worried about him. It wasn't normal for him to keep his distance from her like this.
"Harry, are you okay?" She rested her hand on the doorknob, preparing to open it so she could see him with her own eyes.
"I-I'm fine baby. Go t' sleep m'love. I'll be there in a little while," Y/N frowned when she heard him wheezing a little as he breathed between words. He spoke much too slowly compared to his usual drawl as though it was too much work for him to speak.
"Harry please, jus' wanna see you." She tries again, hoping he'll open the door.
"Promise I'll be there t' give you your kisses baby but I jus' need... a moment," Y/N's face fell.
"H-Harry you're scaring me," She said, quietly.
Harry was on the other side of the door, clutching onto his side. He was already hurting but hearing his angel begging to come in was killing him. He couldn't leave her out there. She looked the perfect remedy to his currently aching body when he looked through the peephole of his door and saw her already in her pyjamas, looking all snuggly and cute.
"Not tryin' t' scare you, dove. Please I'll be out in a minute." He hoped she would listen like she normally would. He needed enough time to clean up as best as he could so he could return to her- looking like the Harry she knew- but she wasn't having it, reminding him of just how stubborn she could be when she wanted to. 
"Harry, I-I'm gonna open the d-door. I have to see if you're okay," She spoke, clearly and carefully.
Harry looked down as the doorknob twisted. He wanted to twist the key and lock it to keep her out but he lost control of his own mind as he stepped back and allowed her to push the front door open.
He stood under the dim light of his living room. He had been meaning to get the lightbulb fixed but he'd been spending too much time at Y/N's apartment to remember.
Her eyes went from his feet all the way up to meet his face. Her lips parted and her eyes started to water, his heart ached at the sight. "No baby," He stepped forward, pulling her into him and holding her to his chest even though it ached to do so.
"H-Harry," She whispered, her voice cracking, "What happened?"
She pulled back and cupped one of his cheeks in her small hand. Harry's eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, he could have sworn every ounce of pain lifted from her touch alone. "Was out with a friend, you know, the one who deals," He explained, referring to Mike who Y/N had met. He didn't want to hide from her and she already knew he smoked weed regularly so it was no surprise to her when he told her he'd been smoking, "We pulled over so he could drop something off but I guess the customer got a little aggressive. He was probably on something but he was refusing to pay I think Mike said. I was in the car and all I saw was this guy trying to swing at him. I ran out to help him and we managed to get away before he had the chance to do anything worse but he obviously managed to get a good few hits in before."
Harry hadn’t remembered the last time he had gotten into a fight other than when he was a teenager just after his parents got divorced. He had managed to get a few punches in, making his knuckles all red and cut up, but he'd also been the victim of a few hits too. He had a black eye, a busted lip and a pounding headache from the impact of the punch he had received.
"Harry," Y/N choked on a sob, "Y-you could have been seriously h-hurt,"
"I know baby, I know." He cradled her head in his arms as she wrapped her arms around him, not squeezing too tight because she knew he was in pain. "But 'm here now."
Her eyes were red-rimmed as she looked at him, "You were helping Mike?" She asked.
"'s all I was doing baby, promise." He hated how worried she looked so he was willing to do anything to comfort her until she knew he was okay.
She pulled away, "W-where are you hurting?" She looks down as if checking him for any more bruising. He could see her visibly starting to panic, her hands shaking and her chest moving up and down rapidly.
"Hey, c'mere, c'mon now." He picked her up and brought her over to the couch, "M okay sweet girl, nothing to worry about anymore. Calm down f' me, please. Hate seeing you in a panic." He uttered to her, rocking her back and forth with her face buried in his neck. 
"You're all b-bruised," She whimpered, "Y-you must be in so much pain."
"Not anymore my love. Hmmm, my flower is here, takin' all m' pain away aren't you dove?" He kissed her shoulder.
"C-can I help you?" She whispered, eyes blotchy and red from crying a little.
"Wanna patch up m' bruises love?" She nods as if there was nothing else she'd rather do than be there for him. "Alright, le's go to the bathroom and y' can help me." He carried her to the bathroom and placed her on the counter near the sink. He grabbed a first aid kit from the cabinet under the sink and handed it to her. "Didn't know m' girlfriend was a little nurse." He smirked, a blush covering her cheeks.
Harry stood between her legs with his hands on the counter on either side of her. He watched her as she cleaned the cuts and treated the bruise covering his eye. He smiled when the tip of her tongue stuck out between her lips, "Be careful, I'll bite that tongue." He teased.
Y/N squeaked hiding her tongue away, but quickly composed herself, "You're not getting anywhere near my tongue mister." She sasses and Harry grins so wide, his cheeks hurt.
"No? You don't think I deserve a kiss baby? M in so much pain." He hides his face in her neck and presses spongy kisses on her soft skin.
Y/N giggles at the ticklish sensation, trying to push him away, "No, you can't, not until I patch you up and you stop getting into fights."
"Actin' like I get into fights every other weekend baby," He smirks, "Only f' you."
Her mouth opens and closes as she tries to figure out what to say in such a flustered state from his words. He takes the opportunity to kiss her, their lips pressing together under the low light of the bathroom. He hadn't seen her since this morning and had been missing her all day but knew she needed some time with her girlfriends without him smothering her. It didn't stop him from glancing at his phone now and then to see if she'd called him, just like she had done.
The small time they spent away from each other during the day made him all the more desperate to kiss her. He cradled both her cheeks in his hand, brushing his thumb over her cheekbones. She wrapped her arms around his neck and played with the baby strands of hair on the nape of his neck. "Missed you," She murmured when their lips parted.
"Missed y' too flower." He hummed, "Don't know what's wrong w' me to want you this bad." His hands travelled down her arms, his fingers brushing over her tattoo as he slid past it before he intertwined their fingers together. “Think m just a teeny bit in love with y’ to be honest.” He confessed. 
And suddenly they were both existing outside of their own bodies.
"W-what?" Y/N's eyes glazed over.
“Oh shit.” Harry cusses, squeezing his eyes shut, his face scrunching in frustration, “Wasn’t meant to be this way flower.” 
“Y-you love me?” Her bottom lip quivered, her brain not quite believing what she was hearing. 
Harry's heart was racing as he looked her in the eyes, "I love you." The words left his mouth and had never felt so right or so freeing. He couldn't understand why now of all moments was the time to finally say it but a piece of himself felt whole and all the pain from his body had left as he told her the three words that had been trapped in his throat for so long.
Y/N's mind whirred as she processed Harry's words. The air seemed to thicken around them, and for a moment, time hung suspended. She searched his eyes for any sign of hesitation, but all she found was sincerity and vulnerability. "You do?" She whimpered.
"Oh no flower, don't cry. Hate seeing tears in those pretty eyes," He began to wipe them away as soon as they fell from her eyes.
"I'm sorry," She blubbered, "I never imagined... I never imagined someone could feel this way about me," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Never thought I'd be in love either but here we are," He chuckled, "Love you so much, m'favourite flower." He rubbed their noses together.
Y/N's pouty lips sprouted into a beautiful smile, "I love you too Harry, more than anyone in the whole world."
"Y’ already told me that once before." He smiled, a mixture of adoration and a touch of amusement dancing in his eyes. 
“I did?” She frowned. 
“Mhm,” Harry nodded, “Before you fell asleep, you mumbled it and told me you loved me and when you woke up y’ didn’t remember.” 
“Really?” She couldn’t help but feel embarrassed knowing she admitted something so big in her sleep.
“Honestly,” Harry told her, “Think y’ were probably dreaming or something.”
“Is this a dream? Feels like it,” Y/N whispers. 
“S most certainly not a dream m’love.” Harry kissed her quickly, “Gonna love you forever I think.” 
She leant forward, running her fingers through his hair as his head fell back. He hummed at the feeling, biting on his lip to stop himself from smiling so much before burying his face in the crook of her neck - in the place he loved so much. "Promise." He whispered, lips ghosting her skin.
Their fingers traced lazy patterns on each other's skin, a silent communication between them. The room was filled with the hushed whispers of their love, as if time had slowed down so they could savour the sweetness of this very moment.
Y/N yawned which made the corner of Harry's lips turn upwards, "Y' done fixing me up now? Wanna go t' bed love?" She nodded, wrapping herself around him. He reminded himself to clean away the first aid kit in the morning, his priority was getting his girl some much-needed sleep.
She curled into him when they lay in his small bed, her head resting on his chest right where her heart was. She played with his hair and he ran a hand up and down her bare back underneath her pyjama shirt, "I love you," She murmured into the quiet.
He hoped she could hear his heart beat a little faster at her words, "I love you s' much, flower. With everything in me, gonna be mine forever y'are." He mumbled the words into her ear. 
Harry cupped the side of her face as her tired, glossy eyes looked at him with so much love and adoration, that he didn’t know what to do with it all. In the dimly lit room, they leaned in close, their breath mingling as their lips met in a gentle, passionate kiss. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer, while hers tangled in his hair. They explored each other's mouths, lost in the heat of the moment, their bodies pressed together. Each kiss was filled with longing and desire, igniting a fire between them that burned brighter with every touch.
“I’ve never loved anyone before,” Y/N whispered to him. 
“Really?” Harry smiled. 
“You’re my first love.” Y/N has to bite her lip to stop herself from smiling so wildly but Harry tugs her lip with his thumb and suddenly her smile is so wide her cheeks turn pink.
“You’re my first and only love.” He murmured. 
She liked that and she loved him. 
This was exactly where they were both meant to be —with the person who had become not only their first love but their forever love too. 
A flower tattooed to his heart.
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