shut your mouth
i've never written harry as what he actually is, but with all this tour content, it was hard not to — this literally has no substance & it’s all over the place, but i hope you enjoy anyway! here’s my masterlist for any new readers/followers <3
as always, please reblog / leave feedback 💋
word count: 2.5k
warnings: language, mediocrely-written sexual content
• • •
Dimmed lights, pulsing atmosphere, all eyes on him.
Once he's on stage, he's electric. Effortlessly commanding the crowd because he knows they would all fall to their knees if he asked them to. Happily parading around with boas and flowers because he knows they love to see him free of judgement. Giving glances to particular people in the audience because he knows it will make them scream.
He holds the reigns. He has the control. He knows it.
Off stage, however, no one quite knows who he is. His normal lifestyle has been veiled with a cloak of privacy for over a decade and he doesn't plan on lifting it any time soon.
Yet everyone can't help but wonder what Harry Styles does when the show ends and he runs behind the black curtains. Does he make a beeline straight to his dressing room shower? Or does he collapse on the nearest couch with exhaustion and fall asleep?
Well, the answer depends on his mood.
Tonight, as he hurries down the stairs and towards those mysterious curtains, you know exactly where, who, and what he's after.
Bathroom. You. Sex.
It could honestly be considered a tradition at this point. Granted, it's only Harry's fifth show, but there's no sign of stopping since he has to let out his remaining adrenaline somehow.
You know exactly where to be so he can find you. As soon as he gets backstage, he'll take the first left down the long hallway and another left through the catering room. He'll then head straight to the door that's labeled STYLES DRESSING ROOM where you will be waiting for him patiently on the leather couch.
It's where you are now and where he's about to be.
Five knocks sound from the other side of the door as you scroll mindlessly through your phone. You don't need to guess who it is. Years of knowing him and he'll always feel familiar even when not seen or heard.
The door swings open and in comes Harry with his black mask on and a bouquet of flowers in his hand, running a dry towel over his sweaty forehead and hair. His eyes crinkle with a smile when he sees you and he jogs up to you while sliding his mask down, bending his knees slightly to lift you off the ground. His arms wrap completely around your waist as he buries his head into your neck to give your skin damp kisses.
He smells like a middle school boy, but the way he's mumbling words of affection in your ear leaves you not caring at all.
"Baby," he mumbles with a slight whine.
You smile while he nips little marks on your pulse point. "Yeah?"
"You up for it tonight?" he scratchily asks, facing you head-on and giving you the flowers.
You nod eagerly and accept his gift as well as his needy kiss to your lips. "Lead the way, loverboy."
He takes your hand in his and heads towards the closed door at the farthest wall. You walk past his suitcases and bags stuffed full of his essentials, then stop behind him when he turns the knob and opens it. The fluorescent lights immediately brighten the room with a single flick of Harry's finger on the switch.
It's a bathroom that's connected to his dressing room, nothing short of luxury for the man who sold out the high capacity stadium within a day. A long, marble counter with polished swirls stands out to you first, along with a pristine mirror that takes up the entire back wall. The modern black and white theme is sleek with a touch of seductiveness — the perfect setting for your tryst with him.
Yours and Harry's steps tread into the empty bathroom, the click of his heeled boots echoing on the porcelain floor. It's surreal to hear the faraway commotion of fans leaving the venue from inside such an intimate location. Before long, there will be people looking for him, wondering where he's gone off to.
It'll be a secret shared only between you and him.
"Where do you want me?" Harry speaks up after closing and locking the door.
"I want you on the counter," you instantly respond, setting the flowers and your purse next to the sink.
"You want my bare arse on the counter?" he asks with a smirk. "S'gonna be bloody freezing."
Rolling your eyes, you begin tying your hair up. "Yeah, and I don't need your smart mouth to go with it."
He just licks his bottom lip and starts sliding down and unclipping his suspenders, teasingly and one at a time. His sheen, orange blouse sticks to places on his sweaty skin and the way it's almost completely unbuttoned makes you even more impatient to touch him.
Once the blouse lays fully open over his glistening torso, you take a step forward and run your hands over his firm chest, then slip the material off the rest of the way so you can set it on the counter for him to sit on. The hair that grows on the top part of his sternum is damp and his stomach juts out slightly with each exhale. He's still breathing heavily from the physical exertion he participated in for over an hour on stage.
"Now take your pants off," you say.
Harry obeys, slipping out of his high waisted trousers and revealing his black boxers. His hands smooth over your waist and even further to your ass as he toes his boots off, but you stop him.
"What do you think you're doing?"
He visibly swallows. "Just let me touch you. I don't want to play any games tonight."
"Do you remember what I told you before you went on stage?" you question slowly.
"Yes, darling, but I really don't-"
"No 'buts'," you interject. "What did I tell you, Harry?"
He clenches his jaw and flexes his hands. "That you're in control tonight," he replies, giving in just enough that you know he'll listen to your commands from here on out.
You trail your fingers across his navel. "Correct. So get on the counter and shut your mouth."
He runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek and hops up to sit on the counter, his thighs thickening and the evident bulge beneath his boxers shifting, causing him to faintly groan.
Seeing Harry obediently sat there, head leaned back against the mirror with his throat bobbing in lustful desperation, ignites an ardent flame in the pit of your belly. The fact that he doesn't mind submitting to you when you're in need of a little control fuels your intense need to dominate him.
What's love if not wanting him knocked down a peg or two on occasion?
"All those people screaming for you," you begin as you lightly trace his abs, "but who do you come back to every night?"
"You, for fuck's sake," he rasps. "Always you, I don't care about anyone else."
You squeeze Harry's cock through is boxers, triggering an immediate whimper from his open mouth.
"And what would they say if they knew you were about to beg for me in this bathroom? Hm?" You brush your lips across his jawbone. "If they found out the confident man they just saw on stage is a throbbing mess for me behind closed doors?"
"Tell me," he breathes out.
You hum. "They'd say Harry Styles is a whore."
His fingers curl almost painfully as he restrains himself from touching you. "Yeah? In what way?"
You unzip your dress and shimmy out of it. "Let's find out."
Once you're in nothing but your thong, you have Harry lift you up so you can straddle him on the counter. He was right, it's freezing against your knees, but right now all you can focus on is feeling his cock straining his boxers under your clenching core.
You grind against him, feeling his stomach and thighs tense. "Will you be a good boy for me?" you ask while gripping his wrists.
"When am I not?" His eyes hungrily dance over your entire figure. "'M always so fuckin' good for you."
"Then open your mouth," you order.
Harry shifts in his spot. "I believe you told me to shut it."
You move your hands to apply pressure to the sides of his neck. "You will only speak if I ask a question, got it?"
He nods and parts his pink lips. You lean forward and spit right on his tongue, then run the pad of your thumb across the ridge of his bottom row of teeth.
"Swallow." He does, letting a slow smirk take over his face. "Good," you praise. "Now let me fuck you."
Harry breathes out a shocked laugh. He opens his mouth to say something, but you stick your thumb in it to stop him.
"I said shut your mouth," you repeat, clumsily taking off your lace thong, "and let me fuck you."
He swirls his tongue around your thumb and grips the edge of the counter with white knuckles. You help him take his boxers off and throw them on top of your purse, watching his cock spring to his stomach. The tip is an aching shade of red and it's already dripping with precum.
You hold onto his shoulders and lift up, the bones in your knees hurting from the hard surface of the counter. Sex with him has happened in places that have left you with bruises that weren't just from him.
His deep inhales and exhales can be felt on your chest as you grab his cock and line yourself up.
"Condom," Harry suddenly blurts out breathlessly. "Fuck, we almost forgot."
You groan with frustration because now the built up tension has rapidly dissipated. "Well do you have one?" you ask impatiently.
"In one of my bags in the dressing room," he replies.
You're both naked, sat on the bathroom counter, ready to fuck, and yet you both forget the one thing you need.
Need. Do you really need it? The way you're both looking at each other with hesitant and almost knowing expressions begs the huge question.
"Say something," you speak, breaking the awkward silence.
"Oh, now you want me to talk?" Harry teases. "You want me to put a baby in you, is that it?"
You smack his chest maybe a little too hard. "I didn't say that!"
He grasps your hand and leans in closer. "Then give me one good reason why I shouldn't fuck you raw right now in this bathroom for everyone to hear."
That's one way to put it.
You distract your eyes and admire his painted nails. "Do you want a baby?"
Harry shrugs. "Think we've been together long enough, yeah? I'll be done with tour in a few months and then we can hide away for a bit. Start a family."
You contemplate. You've been with him for four years, you're engaged, and you're pretty sure he'd be the best dad in the world. You can't think of one reason not to let him get you pregnant.
And maybe you would like it to happen somewhere more romantic, but the way he looks right now can't possibly be replicated.
"Okay," you whisper. It's embarrassing how easily you've let him have all the control after promises of the complete opposite.
"That settles it, then." His hands gravitate to your hips and he squeezes them reassuringly. "Hop on, babe."
You laugh and sink down on his cock, feeling the immediate stretch and burn of it. Both of you moan at the feeling and find places on each other's skin to touch. You place your forehead against his and begin rocking back and forth, Harry's hands guiding your pelvis to his.
"That's it," he praises, leaving messy kisses to the corner of your mouth. "Always so fuckin' wet and tight for me."
You capture his lips as his hands move to your ass, kneading and slapping the skin, making you grind faster. His hands then roam the expanse of your bare back, leaving scratches and sensual caresses in their wake.
You pull back and notice slight remnants of your red lipstick on his lips. "You did so well tonight, Harry."
"Mm, you liked seeing me be a whore on stage?"
You nod. "They go crazy for you, you know that? If you even look their way, they lose their minds."
"Fuck," he raspily moans. "Makes me go crazy, too."
You choke out a moan when his thumb starts rubbing tight circles on your clit. The pressure in your belly grows as he coaxes kisses from your parted mouth, deep and beautifully numbing.
Your orgasm is approaching fast as you continue riding him, your walls pulsating and the mirror fogging up from your heavy breaths. Every growl or whine that comes from Harry's throat builds and builds the knotted tension inside.
"Cum for me, baby," Harry drawls, jerking his hips up to meet with yours. "Look at me when you do."
You meet his shining eyes and with one last thrust and slap of skin, you unravel on top of him as he reaches his peak at the same time. It's sensory overload to feel him to actually cum inside of you, everything warm and sticky while you ride out the final waves of your pleasure.
Harry softly groans into your neck, his large hands pressing into your shoulder blades. "F-fuckin' hell, I love you."
You lazily kiss his neck. "Do you... do you think that did it?"
"Bloody hope so," he responds hoarsely. "Missouri is known for being the baby making state, right?"
You scoff a laugh. "That's definitely not true and you definitely just made that up."
He chuckles and sucks light marks onto your breasts. He then looks up at you under his eyelashes. "Well if this works out, then I have no choice but to officially declare my statement to be true. We'd have to come back here every time if we want more babies."
It suddenly hits you.
"What the fuck did we just do?" you ask incredulously.
Harry gives a cheeky smile and shrugs nonchalantly. "Dunno. Spontaneous shit. Baby making. Just a typical night in Missouri, y'know?"
You grab his cheeks and kiss him. "You're insane." Another kiss. "We're both insane."
He slides out of you and wraps you in a warm hug. "You're right, but I have so much fun with you."
You hum thoughtfully. "That's sweet of you to say."
He hooks his chin over your shoulder and plays with the ends of your hair. "My soulmate," he tiredly mumbles. "You love me best."
You both stay like that for awhile, basking in each other's presence as you drown the world out. He moves his hands to draw patterns on your back, the feather light touch of his fingers soothing you. Everything with him feels right.
After a few more peaceful and intimate minutes, you say, "You should start selling hats that say 'Harry is my baby daddy'."
Harry leans his head back and playfully rolls his eyes with a lopsided smile. "Shut your mouth."