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cherryjuiceblues · 10 months
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𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐊 𝐀𝐓
➯ HARRY’S GROWN IN SOME PLACES AND Y/N IS MORE THAN OBSESSED. ✰ sexual content. size kink. daddy kink. degradation. creampie. minors dni. 𝑤𝑐 5k
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Harry was changing.
And he had been for a while. Slowly but surely—bit by bit—and all Y/N could do was sit back and watch.
Y/N thinks (and she knows she’s biased because, well, she loves him more than life itself, but still thinks) that Harry will always be the most beautiful man in any room. No matter his age, or the clothes he wears, or the facial expressions his features are presenting, he will be pretty personified to her.
And she never thought he could look better. Because he always looked like he’d been handcrafted, slaved away at for hours to achieve the sharp line of his jaw or the divine slope of his nose.
But now he was changing.
And Y/N was wrong.
Another thing she believes (or had believed) is that being with Harry removed any and all of her preferences when it comes to attraction. No matter the way he looked, Y/N loved it—would never change a thing—would never think that maybe that shirt would look better if his chest hair was thicker or that those trousers would be sexier if his thighs were bigger, or that that suit would be more impressive if he was taller. 
Because Harry was visually stunning, always. And even if in the past, Y/N might have been more attracted to a rugged beard, or a different hairstyle, or a specific type of dress sense, then all of that went out of the window when she met Harry.
But now, Y/N was being proven wrong.
She supposes it was a small change at first, so subtle that she didn’t even notice—because Harry had always been strong, even if it didn’t necessarily show and he’d never hesitated to throw Y/N about whichever way he pleased (which could tend to be an insecurity of hers at times).
When she did start to notice though… Nothing else could catch her attention. Whenever he walked into the room her eyes would drift, and whenever she was looking at him whilst he spoke, she’d be itching to lower her gaze and feel her pupils dilate.
Harry didn’t understand at first. He had picked up on her recent lack of concentration, and of course he had, he was attentive—but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what was distracting her so much.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ
It’s when the weather starts to warm up enough to get his arms out that it clicks.
And that’s what he’s smiling about now, as he hauls patio furniture about and potters around—in a black tank and highlighter yellow short shorts—doing all the garden jobs that had been ignored during the winter and spring. Admittedly with much more flexing than is necessary—after his minx of a girlfriend reacts far too excitedly at the delivery of a new pod chair, and squeezes her thighs together in anticipation, before proceeding to lounge around in her shortest of sundresses with the horniest of gazes as she watches him work.
Harry’s trying to be subtle about his amusement, wanting to play with her for as long as he can now that he knows why she’s been drooling for him more than usual. But his tummy is fluttering with excitement as he schemes the best way to rile her up.
He thinks she’s probably already wet, if the clenching of her thighs is anything to go by as she sits in the pod chair she watched him assemble; her naked legs swinging gently. And he’s worked up quite the sweat, out in the sun for a while already—droplets starting to trickle down his back.
So he thinks it only natural to remove his shirt, biceps straining as he reaches behind him to tug the material over his head. 
Y/N’s breath hitches. No matter how many times she sees Harry’s body, it makes her go all silly without fail. And the same happens now as his glistening, tanned, ink-covered torso is revealed and her eyes start to fight over which part of him to gawk at first.
He’s big. Bigger than he’s ever been—and Y/N must send his PT some flowers or something because she’s sure she’s never been so turned on in her life and that deserves a thank you, doesn’t it? 
Harry’s chest rises and falls gently, pecs dusted in sweat-soaked hair that Y/N has never wanted to lick more. She knows she can stare; is well past the point in their relationship to care about being caught—wants to get caught even, to aid his teasing that does so much to her insides. A drop of sweat trickles in between his abs and Y/N always swore she didn’t care for the definition of those muscles, but on Harry… he looks like the posterboy for all pornstars. Everyone’s wet dream, everyone’s type, everyone’s secret fantasy.
Yet, it’s still his arms that stun her the most. She’s not sure why—if it’s solely because of some undiscovered size kink or how obviously he could overpower her—there might not be any deeper meaning other than looking sexy and strong. Maybe it’s because they’re so big that they bulge with every movement, muscles contracting and golden, tattooed skin stretching. Maybe it’s the fine hair that covers his forearms—that have also become considerably thick and meaty. Y/N has lost count of the amount of times she’s wished to sink her teeth into them. Especially when a particular vein or tendon makes itself prominent. Paired with the fact that she has always been undeniably turned on by his hands and Y/N doesn’t stand a chance.
It’s like the man she’s known, who was already completely and utterly everything she could ever want, has been multiplied by ten. And now Y/N is left to try and function as a normal human being with this Greek god of a man who has arms bigger than her head.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ
“—I don’t think I love you anymore.”
Y/N flinches, eyes shooting up to Harry’s and away from his body.
“Oh, so now you listen to me,” he rolls his eyes, smirk obvious.
“That’s not funny, Harry.” Y/N frowns, heart going a million beats a second. “Why would you say that, you dick.” She hoists herself out of the chair and storms towards the patio doors. With no way she’d ever make it very far, as Harry drops the tools he was using to assemble a coffee table and hastily swoops in behind Y/N—wrapping her up in the things that got her into this position in the first place.
Her back meets his chest. His bare chest. And his face meets her neck, stubble tickling her skin. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean it.” He’s smiling. Y/N feels his arms tighten around her waist. “You weren’t listening t’me, were you?”
She huffs and says, “No,” in a tone that Harry never appreciates.
“You know I don’t like it when you ignore me. I’m far too needy, aren’t I?”
Y/N hums something incomprehensible, ashamed by her pathetic reaction to such a basic body part.
“C’mon, come back. Y’givin’ me something pretty to look at whilst I work.” Harry pinches her waist and she can’t help but shriek a laugh, body betraying her when his fingers dig in.
“You weren’t even looking at me,” Y/N scoffs, reluctantly making her way back to her chair as Harry finishes up on the floor.
“How would you know?” His arms bulge as he screws the table together. “Weren’t exactly staring at m’face, were you, love?”
Y/N rolls her eyes, fluffing up her dress around her thighs.
“I’ve noticed something recently,” Harry starts, admiring his handiwork before getting to his feet and making his way over to Y/N. He picks up a previously ignored bottle of sun tan lotion on his way. “Or, you’ve noticed something, I suppose.”
He kneels before her, hands steadying the gentle swaying of the chair before he smooths them down her legs and props her foot up on his thigh. Y/N pretends to not have a clue. It makes her belly tingle with juvenile excitement.
“What do you mean?”
Harry pops the bottle open and generously squeezes the lotion into his palm. It’s cold as it meets Y/N’s calf, and she twitches a little. But Harry’s hands are warm; he already knows that thirty seconds of this will have her melting into him. 
“You think I don’t see the way you’ve been looking at me lately?” He massages the muscle in his palms and Y/N sighs blissfully.
“I always look at you the same, my love,” she exhales.
“Hm? And how’s that?”
“Like you’re the only man in the world.”
Harry pinches her thigh and Y/N yelps. “Don’t get all soppy on me now. You know exactly what I’m talking about,” and like the sadist that he is, Harry subtly flexes his arms—covertly enough that it looks like a completely involuntary twitch of the muscles. But Y/N’s eyes snap there regardless, and Harry smiles, vast palms moving up higher on her leg as he applies more lotion and starts on her thigh.
“I don’t know, Harry. Why would I look at you different? What’s different about you?” Her voice holds the tiniest of inflections that only Harry would notice means she’s being playful. And it riles him up some.
“Okay, baby. If that’s how you wanna play.” Harry switches legs. He’s much less slow and tender, digging his fingers into her calf and holding firmly when she tries to pull away. The strength he exhibits only has Y/N’s eyes even more trained to his body. When he gets to her thigh he pushes her dress up until her underwear peeks out and delivers a harsh, unexpected slap to the inside—purposely where it hurts a little. Y/N gasps and her hips push up. Harry pays her no mind, applying more lotion before rubbing it in—far too high under her dress where no sun is reaching—and Y/N can see where this is going. Which Harry is coming out.
It all happens so quickly; Harry’s hand pushing against her collarbones to angle her awkwardly against the deep back of the chair, slumping her body surely unattractively, before flipping her dress up higher and tugging her to the edge. His breath fans against her warmth, cruel eyes looking up at Y/N in her stunned state. He leans down and his arms curl under her thighs, hands resting atop and squeezing them tauntingly. God, she can feel his biceps tensing against her.
He’s right there. Lips ghosting across where she needs him. Close enough to barely peek his tongue out and have it meet. Right there. And then he’s gone. Shrugging her legs off his arms and standing up, making some comment about how they need to buy some more sun tan lotion as he goes to walk inside.
Y/N is scrambling off the chair. “Fuck you!” Her hand shoots out and grabs Harry’s wrist. Immediately he spins and flinches away from her, replacing her grip with his own and twisting her arm behind her back. Her chest pushes into him as he leans down.
“You think I haven’t noticed how much of a brat you’ve become?” His voice slicks down her thighs. Oh. “Never fucking listen to me anymore,” she tries to reach for his waist but he twists that arm behind her as well until he’s holding both of her wrists in one of his hands. He leans down further so it’s even harder for her to balance as she bends back. “Just drool over me like a needy slut, don’t you?” Y/N whimpers, the only thing she can do is look up at him. “You’ve been treating me like a piece of meat—staring until your pretty cunt is dripping, right? I can treat you like a piece of meat too, sweetheart.”
“Shut up,” she pouts, before whining, “want—you,” neck aching from the angle she’s bent at. Harry laughs, pulling her hair a little for being a brat, before ghosting his mouth across hers.
“I know. Made that pretty fucking obvious, you silly girl.” He plucks at her bottom lip with his thumb. “You don’t need my cock to be fucked dumb, do you, baby? That little head of yours is always empty.” He squeezes her cheeks together with his fingers. Harry smiles down at his girl’s wide doe eyes staring up at him, completely at his disposal. “Speak.”
“I’m empty,” Y/N nods, giving up her attitude, “need you.” And that’s not what Harry meant but it’s close enough.
“I don’t think you deserve it,” he whispers into her mouth—and then he’s standing behind her, wrists still firmly in his grasp as he shuffles them closer to the windows. The sun glares down, casting a clear reflection of the both of them. Of Harry wrapping his forearm around Y/N’s collarbones, forcing her back to arch. “You haven’t been honest with me,” the entirety of his body is pressed against the back of her. It has her mind scrambling. “You’re not good.”
It’s a low blow. One assured to have Y/N begging and pleading in no time; desperate to make him happy, and desperate to be pleasured.
“I’m…sorry,” she frowns, eyes fixated on the reflection of their bodies. “Wanna be good f’you.” Harry squeezes her wrists as a warning to keep them behind her back before letting go to wrap his other arm around her waist—excited himself by the way he engulfs her. He bends down, causing Y/N to go with him, and the weight in his shorts is growing heavier by the second as they just look at themselves.
Y/N stops herself from wiggling back; doesn’t want to misbehave for a second—not anymore. “Please. All I think about is you, Harry. A-all the time,” her breathing is laboured and her underwear is suffocating. 
And this is how he gets her. “What do you think about?” He turns his face into her shoulder, nudging her sleeve off with his nose before dotting distracting kisses along her skin.
Y/N hesitates. This is what the game was all about. Pretending there was no reason for her gawking. She’s stubborn. But so is Harry. The arm around her collarbones shifts until his large hand is cupping her throat. Y/N’s knees nearly buckle right then and there. Her head tips back a little against him but he squeezes the sides of her neck, right where the blood is fighting to flow, and forces her to look back at the reflection.
“Tell me.” His voice is so deep, so low; the vibrations spread through her like treacle. “Look at me,” he squeezes again, “and tell me.”
He doesn’t ease up around her throat so her words are tight. His arm moves down to her hips. “You’ve got…so…big,” she whimpers. “Everywhere.” Harry’s hips twitch, dying to rut against her ass. But instead, with teasing fingers he lifts the hem of her dress. Up and up until he can stuff it between his hand and her throat, obsessed with the way her bare stomach rises and falls at a rapid pace.
Y/N’s flimsy panties don’t stand a chance—the once pale pink now a much darker hue in the place she needs him most. But Harry wouldn’t be so kind. He makes her think he’s going to rub on her like she wants, middle finger trailing over her clit with a feather-light touch. Barely there but still enough to make her twitch. He does it again—a small circle—before dipping lower, pushing in her underwear and feeling it slick against her.
And then he rears his hand back, too quickly for Y/N to realise, and brings it back down to her clit in a harsh, tight slap. She buckles and writhes, held up solely by the hand around her throat as Harry trails his fingers along the inside of her thigh. His smirk tickles against her shoulder.
“Har—Harry!” she gasps, unable to stop her body from moving against him now, not whilst she’s thrumming.
“I’m big, yeah? Too big for you, surely. Look at the way I swallow you up.” Oh, and she is. With half-lidded eyes and shallow breaths.
“Yes, I love it, Harry. I love it,” her hips search for his hand and he pushes her against him, spanning across her mound.
“That’s not everything though, is it?” Another squeeze around her throat. “Be good.”
She tries—so hard—as Harry starts to suck and bite marks into her skin. “Arms, it’s your arms,” she breathes, head foggier and foggier by the second. He eases up a little when she starts to slump, tracing his thumb across her lips.
“What about them?” Fingers slip inside her underwear; a reward for using her words. Even as he starts rubbing small circles, he knows she’ll cum quickly.
“So hot, Harry. And big.”
He laughs, “Y’already said that. Just so hot and big, aren’t I?” The narcissist in him goes wild, cock twitching in his shorts. And he allows himself one rut against her, just to take the edge off. But Y/N wants more—of course she does—and she’s starting to make all sorts of pretty noises as he rubs her clit. So Harry keeps moving, sure that the feel of him against her is propelling her towards her orgasm whilst he’s barely teasing himself.
“You’ve got a slutty pussy, Y/N,” he tightens his hand around her throat once more, lips brushing her ear. “Drenched because your boyfriend can manhandle you, yeah? I could do anything to you ‘n’ you’d let me, wouldn’t you? Because you’re so desperate for it.”
“Uh-huh,” Y/N nods shakily. She’s trying to keep her eyes on their reflection, to see Harry’s muscles work as his fingers hide in her underwear, and the way his hips push into her ass. 
“Tell me.”
“Want you to—manhandle me…use me—need t’cum.” She’s building up, can feel as Harry smears her arousal around in a mess before rubbing harder on her clit. And faster.
“You g’na cum?” Faster.
“Yes! Yes, yes, please.” He lets her throw her head back, lets her reach the edge, whimpering and whining just as she starts to let go.
And then he’s gone. Harry rips his hand from her pussy and shoves his glistening fingers in her mouth before she can talk. Y/N cries around them, shaking her head in a desperate plea.
“Mmph—no!—Please,” she tries, but how could Harry ever understand what she wants?
He takes hold of her wrists again and bends her forward by her waist, kicking her legs open wider. She’s completely held up by him; if he were to let go, she would topple straight over, no doubt about it.
With a heavy hand, Harry pushes her dress up and over her ass and delivers a well-connecting smack to the rounded flesh. Y/N mewls, legs shaking in surprise. It’s harder to maintain her eye contact with the window at this angle, especially when all she wants is to lull her head like she’s weightless. Harry wastes no time in tugging her underwear halfway down her thighs. Finds it satisfying to keep her somewhat immobilised.
And Y/N couldn’t care less, as soon as she feels Harry pulling himself out and sinking into her—she’s sure she wouldn’t notice if their house was burning.
He barely lets her adjust, and no matter how wet she is Harry’s always a stretch. A deep inhale, body stilling kind of stretch. And once she’s full and his pelvis pushes against her bum and they both allow for a second of joint ecstasy at being as close as possible once again, Harry is quick to treat her the way she so desperately wants.
His other hand comes up to her hair, pulling it sharply so Y/N’s neck bends back. “Look. Watch as I fuck you.” Incomprehensible noises are forced from her throat, jaw hanging looser with each inch that Harry invades. She’s never been more grateful to have a secluded garden. 
The sight before her rivals one from a porn film—fitting for her sex god of a boyfriend; she could only hope to look pretty enough next to him. Her body bent forward, neck stretched and inviting, back arching with the force of her arms behind her back. Thighs open just enough to fit Harry’s cock into her weepy hole, flesh threatening to rip the underwear that controls their freedom. 
Occasionally the sun will reflect just right and Y/N will notice the glistening of her wetness spread across her mound. Though her eyes soon fall shut with the strength of Harry’s thrusts, unrelenting and point-proving.
“Fuck. Can feel you squeezin’ already.” His words shoot straight to her clit, tingling and buzzing. “So easy, aren’t you, pet?” Y/N nods fruitlessly. “I shouldn’t let you finish,” he threatens against her ear. “Should fill you up with my cum, have you serve your purpose and then thank me for it.”
She pulsates at the thought, at the warmth of feeling him drip down her thighs. Sometimes dripping around the sides of his prick if Harry’s particularly wound up and has a few rounds in him.
“Please,” Y/N cries, sweat beading at her hairline.
Harry groans into her jaw, hips meeting her ass bruisingly. “Yeah? Filthy girl, jus’ my hole, aren’t you?”
“Mhm! Please cum in me, please,” Y/N tries to turn her head, nose bumping into his cheek. She wants a kiss but her brain cannot possibly communicate that to her mouth as it hangs open.
The sounds of skin meeting skin ring in her ears and her throat threatens to cry perfectly timed noises with each thrust. And she’s not sure when it happened but her tits are out of her dress and Harry’s letting go of her hair to palm one roughly as he starts to breathe heavier and heavier.
Body leaden, Y/N’s head falls back to his shoulder and her eyes peel open slightly, watching Harry’s face contort beautifully from above her. She wants it so bad—knows that he’ll always make her finish regardless—needs to walk around in her summer dress and cum-soaked panties. “Please, Daddy. Cum in me.”
The name has Harry groaning, hips stuttering and stilling against her as he paints long, thick stripes inside Y/N. “Thank you!” She cries, his release stimulating her like nothing else. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Despite Harry being the one with orgasm heavy bones, Y/N crumbles, knees buckling as she takes them both to the floor. He braces her fall, arm strong around her waist. His cock stays twitching inside of her, still hard, and he angles her ass into the air as he stands on his knees astride her legs.
“You good, baby?” Harry smooths a hand up her back, pushing her dress out of the way.
Y/N’s arms stretch above her, content to be lying on the hard floor. “Yeah, really good. Thank you, Daddy.”
Harry smiles softly to himself, she’s under. “You wanna cum?”
“Am I allowed? I said some bad things to you.”
“That’s okay. I want you to squeeze on my cock ‘n’ let me fuck my cum into you. Can you do that for me?”
“Uh-huh,” she nods nastily, head turned to the side on the concrete. He’d take care of her later.
“Good girl, nice ‘n’ tight, f’me.”
The noise of their arousal mixing together, probed by Harry’s cock is one he’ll replay in desperate moments alone. Squelching and slicking as he starts up his rough pace once again. Y/N contracts around him in quick, spasming motions—hips attempting to push back from her awkward position. Her tummy is hot and her clit is painfully untouched; she’s sure she’d grind it on the floor if she could reach but Harry’s hands are firm on her hips, angling her just the way he likes as he pounds into her tight hole.
Harry wishes he had his phone to hand—would take enough pictures of the sight before him to last forever. His cum is starting to leak out the sides, dripping down to Y/N’s clit and slicking up his cock. The mess of it all has his eyes rolling back.
“God, y’just perfect. Wanna keep you like this forever. Make you sticky with my cum, then maybe take you out and watch you try to ignore the feeling of it dripping out of you.” Harry slaps her ass and moans as she spasms around him, hands pulling her cheeks apart to reveal her other hole. “Wanna mark you everywhere. Especially here.” He thumbs over the puckered skin. “Fill you up and push in every drop, then give you a pretty plug so it stays inside all day.” Y/N’s shaking, eyes clenched shut and pussy quivering. All Harry has to do is reach around and start rubbing tight circles into her clit and she’s gone.
“Harry! I’m cumming, I’m cumming—D-daddy, thank you.” Harry leans over her back, kissing the side of her face and not slowing down for a second.
“Gimme another,” he whispers, speeding up his thrusts and slapping her clit one, two, three times, vibrations elongating her orgasm and sending her straight into her second one. Harry pulls back, regretfully pulling out for a moment to flip Y/N over and tug her flush against him. He wraps her thighs around his waist and guides her arms around his neck, endeared by her fucked out expression. “Doing so good, honey.” She smiles, eyes closing and nuzzling her face into his neck. Harry thinks if he wasn’t already hard, that smile alone would’ve given him a love boner.
“Jus’ sit all pretty, Daddy’s got you.”
He holds her hips securely, palms encompassing miles of skin, and lifts her just enough to start fucking up into her cunt. Their cum will surely make a mess in their laps but he minds none—goes faster at the very thought, even. Thinks about scooping it up with his fingers and feeding it to Y/N, and then leaning in to get a taste of them together, moaning into her mouth and suckling at her lips like a starved man.
As if she can read his mind, Y/N starts nibbling at his skin, laving her tongue over the drops of sweat that trickle down his neck. Then she pulls back just enough to wilt against his mouth, lips barely responsive but Harry kisses her with all he’s got. And she’s close again, when her heavy hand trails down to start rubbing at her swollen, cum-drenched clit much daintier than Harry had.
“F-feels so good,” she whines against his mouth, happy to let Harry lick against her tongue, “love you.”
Harry whimpers, “G-god, I love you too. So much, you’re so good, I love you.” Y/N rubs harder, pussy tightening—and Harry fucks harder as they both rest their foreheads on eachother’s shoulders. With her other hand, Y/N holds his bicep, squeezing and scratching as much as she pleases. She barely covers the muscle and Harry can’t help but smile as his orgasm rushes closer.
It’s when she whispers, words garbled and strained, that Harry tips over the edge. “F-fuck me so good, s-so good. G’na make me pregnant—‘n’ full of you.” And it’s his warm spurts that have Y/N cumming as well, pulsating around Harry as she milks him dry. He cums a lot, and the more he does, the longer Y/N’s orgasm lasts—they melt against one another in a mess of moans and gentle rutting, sweaty skin sticking them together. 
Y/N peels her hand from Harry’s arm, seeing the crescent moons she’s left behind and looking up at him guiltily. He smiles, pushing her hair away from her face and leaning down to kiss her nose.
“Felt good,” he promises. “Now I know how much you like them, you can do whatever you want.”
Y/N whines, biting his shoulder playfully. “Shower now, please. We’re gross.”
Harry hums, staying tucked inside and holding her tight to him as he stands on nearly wobbly legs. “Just so you know, if we shower together, I will be naked. Will you be able to contain yourself at the sight of my big, sexy arms?”
She sinks her fingers into the hair on the back of his head and tugs. “Shut up. They’re not even that big.”
“Okay, my love. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
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freedomfireflies · 16 days
Note
any chance we can get asher back for mine!harry blurb? i miss my pookie :(
Summary: The one where you're not feeling so hot and Harry and Asher just want to help.
Word Count: 1.1k
Content Warning: 18+, very brief smut, very brief daddy kink, lots of fluff, not suitable for Ramadan!
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“That’s it…good. Take it…fucking take me, mama.”
With every thrust and drive of Harry's hips, you can’t help but whimper. Nails scratching down his broad back while his nose dances along your cheek. You feel whole. Connected. In tune to his pleasure as you tighten your legs around his hips and kiss him.
“So fucking wet, sugar,” he exhales. His thumb finds your clit and he rubs in fast, determined circles. “S’it feel good? My baby’s cunny just needed some attention, hm? Needed me to fill her up?”
You nod—about the only coherent response you can offer—and melt into the feel of his mouth moving to your chest. It feels good. This is what you needed. You’ve missed him. And you needed someone to scratch this itch and make things right again.
And then, a throat clears.
Not yours. Not Harry’s.
Asher’s.
He’s standing in the doorway to the bedroom, watching. His kind eyes are now suspicious and deviant. And he’s not looking at Harry. He’s looking at you.
And you know why.
Harry doesn’t mind the audience. He continues, strong hands cemented to your hips as he tugs you up in order to get a better angle. “You all right, Ash?” he calls.
Asher raises his chin. “Tell him,” he says to you. Resolute. Unwavering in a way that suggests he won't be letting this go.
You hesitate, stomach dropping as the threat of punishment hangs heavy in the air. 
Harry smirks. “Tell me what?” 
You shake your head. “Nothing,” you whisper before shooting a pointed look toward the door. “Nothing.”
“Sweetheart,” Asher warns, crossing his arms before leaning against the frame. “It’ll be worse if I have to tell him.”
Now Harry seems to understand and begins to slow his thrusts, offering you a curious expression meant to calm you. “What’s wrong, mama?”
You chew on your lip. You don’t want to tell him. You want this and you attempt to clench around his cock in order to get him to continue.
He smiles.
“She had a fever this morning,” Asher finally says and you bite back a groan. “She’s been dizzy all day and nearly fainted earlier. I told her to stay in bed and rest. Not do anything too strenuous. But I have a feeling she didn’t mention that to you.”
Harry’s grin instantly fades into disappointment and you know, undoubtedly, that you’re in rather big trouble now. 
The one thing they prioritize more than anything is your health and safety.
“Sugar,” Harry starts, and you feel your heart skip, “are you not feeling well?”
You squirm beneath him. “I’m…I’m fine. I’m okay to do this—”
“Were you sick this morning?”
“…I was just…I mean, maybe a little, but—”
“Did you know you were going against Asher’s request when you begged me to fuck you?” he says firmly, and your skin feels like it’s on fire. You hate upsetting him. “Were you purposefully disobeying him?”
Shit, shit, shit. “I…I wasn’t trying to, I just…I missed you.”
And it’s the truth. You have missed him. You weren’t trying to be defiant, but you love Harry and you wanted to feel him. And you figured an orgasm could be just what the doctor ordered. 
His features soften now as he dips down to kiss your nose. “I know, mama. I’ve missed you, too. But you know better than to disobey, don’t you?”
Regretfully, you nod.
“Then, I’m gonna ask you a question and I expect the truth. Is that understood?”
Another nod.
“Are you unwell right now? Do you feel tired or feverish or even the slightest bit uncomfortable?”
You could lie. You could tell him that you’ve been fucked back to health. That you rested and now you’re replenished.
But he’d know. And you’d know. And Asher would know.
So, you thread your fingers through his curls and whisper, “I’m…a little tired. And sore."
His expression falls. He’s gutted to know you're in pain but proud of you for finally admitting it. “Good girl,” he says before he kisses your cheek and begins to pull out. “All right then. Are you gonna let us take care of you now? The right way?”
Almost begrudgingly, you nod once again and melt into the mattress as he and Asher discuss the best way to help.
They run you a bath and help carry you to the tub. Harry joins you in the warm water and pulls you between his legs so he can sweep a washcloth up and down your clammy skin. Helping you feel clean and calm.
And when you're through, Asher is there with a big, fluffy towel to wrap you up in. Drying you off gently before bringing you back to bed and kissing your temple sweetly while tucking you beneath the covers.
“Thank you,” you say faintly as he runs his thumb over your cheek. “Even though you’re a snitch.”
He laughs. “Mhm. And I’d do it again.”
With that, he leaves you and Harry alone for the evening, something Harry is more than all right with.
He crawls into bed beside you, quickly pulling you to his chest before taking your temperature and offering you medicine and water. 
“I’m sorry you didn’t get to finish,” you whisper as he’s turning out the light.
However, even in the dark, you can anticipate his frown. “Sugar…finishing is not the goal for me. You know that. I like to finish with you, but I don’t fuck you for that. I fuck you because I love you. I want to be close to you. I want to feel you and make you finish.”
You run your fingers down his chest and sigh. “I know, I just…I like when you do. I like that I can do that for you.”
You feel his lips brush across your forehead before he’s wrapping you between his arms. “I know, mama. I’ll make you a deal. Once you’re well again, I’ll fuck you as many times as you want. Make you cum over and over and over again. Until you’re all sensitive and overstimulated.”
You grin. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. And you’ll take it, won’t you?”
“Yes, daddy.”
“Mhm. That’s what I thought.” He chuckles before there’s a long, silent lull. “I love you. You know that?”
Your heart just about explodes out of your chest. “I love you, too.”
“Good.” Another kiss. Soft. Gentle. “Horny little thing. Even got Asher to tell on you.”
“I know,” you laugh. “I was kind of surprised. But to be fair, I didn’t really disobey him. I was on bed rest. We were doing missionary, and you were doing all the work. All I had to do was lay there.”
Harry laughs and the sound is beautiful. “And you’re sneaky, too, hm?”
“Hey, an orgasm a day keeps the doctor away.”
“All right, that’s enough out of you. Go to sleep, yeah?” He pinches your hip. “We’ll discuss this when you’re better. But something tells me Asher won’t be so willing to let you off the hook.”
You smile.
“Good.”
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Okay fine I missed Asher, too 😭 HE IS CUTE WHEN HE WANTS TO BE!!
~ Mine Masterlist
~ Main Masterlist
Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @laelamarley @acesofspadess @stylesfever @caynonmoondreams  @virginvirgo @pagesfalling @creativelyeva @char112244 @snwells @armystay89 @oh-my-hecky-padalecki @blackbookwhore @nellylayhoohoo @22fallenangel22 @watercolorskyy @ilovedilfs32 @nicodoesntexist @lelenikki @happypoptart 
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goldengalore · 1 year
Text
Intimacy
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An anxious!reader fic.
Summary: Y/N hasn’t been intimate with someone in a long time, which makes her nervous about having sex with Harry for the first time.
Word count: 6.5k
Warnings: anxiety, smut (featuring soft dom!harry, fingering, thigh riding, oral - m receiving)
A/N: This is one last idea (for now) that I had for the anxious!reader universe. Lots of smut, but it’s very soft and sweet and full of love :)
***
His hands. Y/N can’t stop staring at his hands.
There are a lot of things she finds attractive about Harry. Too many. It’s actually maddening how one person can have so many attractive qualities. Lately, her brain has decided to fixate on his hands. They’re pretty and elegant, strong and masculine.
His long fingers are often decorated with an ornate collection of rings. Sometimes his nails are painted with vibrant colours; other times, they’re unpainted but still clean and neatly trimmed. She can often see the veins that travel up the backs of his hands into his toned arms. He moisturizes them well too, so they rarely look dry.
Y/N would be lying if she said her obsession with Harry’s hands is completely innocent and merely about aesthetics, that she hasn’t imagined how those fingers would feel in her mouth or between her legs and orgasmed to the thought of that while lying alone in bed at night.
It doesn’t help that he’s a highly affectionate person, finding any excuse to place his hands on her whenever she’s within reach. Even now, as they lounge on his couch, he pulls her legs into his lap and begins massaging them. She’s wearing a knee-length dress today, leaving her lower legs exposed. His hands don’t move up past her knees, but that doesn’t stop her imagination from running wild anyway.
“Y/N?” His smooth, commanding voice—another annoyingly attractive feature of his—pulls her from her thoughts.
“Hmm?” Her eyes flick up to his emerald ones staring back at her. She realizes with embarrassment that she hasn’t listened to a thing he’s said in the past minute or so.
“What were you staring at?” He glances down in his lap, where her gaze was just a few seconds ago.
“Oh, just your hands.”
His brows furrow slightly as he starts inspecting his hands, turning his palms up, then down. “Why? Something wrong with them?”
“No! No, they’re just… nice. Nice hands. That’s all. Sorry, what, um, what were you saying?”
A teasing smirk forms on his lips. “Nice hands, huh? Never heard that one before.”
She rolls her eyes, trying to ignore the heat rising to her cheeks. “Please. I’m sure you’ve heard that a million times.”
“Mmm, not really.”
She narrows her eyes at him, not believing him for a second. His smirk broadens.
“Anyway,” he says, resting his hands back on her legs, “I was just saying that I really missed you last week.”
Now she feels even worse about zoning out on him. He’s been out of town this past week for work. They reunited just this morning after his flight landed back in LA.
“I missed you too, H.”
“This week made me realize something.”
Her heart skips a beat. “What?”
“Made me realize how much I hate being away from you. I know our friendship started over Zoom meetings and phone calls and whatnot since I was on tour, but…” He shrugs. “After spending time with you in person these past couple months, I can’t imagine being away from you for weeks or months at a time. I think I’d go mad.”
His confession feels like being swaddled in a warm blanket. While he was away, Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about him. His fluffy hair and dimpled smile, his kind eyes and boyish laugh, even his cute nose consumed her thoughts from the moment she woke up in the morning to the moment she fell asleep at night. She found herself cursing the slow passage of time frequently throughout the week. To hear that her feelings were reciprocated makes her giddy inside.
When she takes a while to respond, he says, “I hope that wasn’t too intense. It’s just been on my mind lately and I had to say it.”
“No, I feel the same way.” I think I’m in love with you, she says in her head but struggles to speak aloud. She has never been the first to say those words in a relationship.
He smiles, relieved. “Okay, good.” He holds her gaze for a few seconds, then shifts closer, her legs still strewn across his lap. His hand comes up to cradle her jaw as he leans in for a kiss, sucking her top lip into his mouth.
She scoots even closer, practically sitting in his lap now. The movement causes her dress to ride up. Harry rests his other hand on her bare thigh, squeezing it lightly. Her heart quickens. His hand inches along her inner thigh, hiking her dress up even further. Suddenly, her whole body tenses up and she shrinks away from his touch.
“Sorry, I—I can’t,” she stammers, quickly removing her legs from his lap and tugging her dress back down.
She sneaks a glance at his face and detects some hurt there. It lasts for a split second, but her brain registers it anyway. She feels awful. This is the second time he has tried to get intimate with her beyond just kissing. The first was the night before he was supposed to fly out of the city. They were cuddling in his bed. She was giving him all the signs that she wanted to take things further—letting her hands roam all over his body, grinding her hips against him—but as soon as he started returning her touches, she pulled away.
It’s frustrating because she fantasizes about it all the time, yet when it finally starts to happen, she freezes up. It’s like her mind and body are on completely different pages.
“I’m sorry, H,” she repeats.
“It’s all right.” He gives her a reassuring smile. “You’re not ready for that. I understand.”
“But I am ready. I just…” She looks up at the ceiling as if the answers to her puzzling emotions will be there. “Ugh! I don’t know.”
A long silence stretches between them, though it probably feels longer in her head than it is in reality.
“I should go,” she finally says, rising to her feet, but he grabs her hand before she can go anywhere.
“Already? We haven’t even had dinner yet.”
“But I made things awkward!”
“No, you didn’t. Stop that.”
She was trying to avoid his gaze, but he tugs on her hand to make her look at him.
“We’ve been apart for a whole week. You think I’m letting you run off that easily?” He frowns a bit. “Wait, that sounded creepier than I’d intended.”
She giggles, feeling somewhat lighter. “Okay, fine. I’ll stay.”
They order sushi for dinner and crack open a bottle of wine. The awkwardness she felt earlier fades as Harry starts telling her about a deep conversation he shared with the five-year-old girl sitting next to him on his flight. Y/N is glad she decided to stay because if she had gone home to spend the night by herself, her overthinking mind would have eaten her alive.
After dinner, they transfer back over to the couch with their wineglasses in hand. They sit cross-legged, facing each other. The wine has helped her loosen up some more, granting her the courage to explain why she’s been so reluctant to get intimate with him.
“I’m not a virgin,” she tells him. “I know it probably seems that way because of how I act every time we try to do anything sexual, but I’m not. Not that there’s anything wrong with being one, obviously. I just thought you should know.”
He nods. “Okay.”
Although he doesn’t press any further, his eyes are curious and attentive in a way that makes her want to spill everything, just lay out all her secrets and fears and insecurities in a big, messy pile in front of him.
“I’m not a virgin, but I haven’t had sex in years,” she explains. “And I’ve always had to have a few drinks before doing it. I tried doing it sober once, and it was a total disaster. I was on the verge of a panic attack the whole time, and the guy didn’t know what to do. I just told him to keep going, so he did until he finished and—”
“Lovie, that’s not okay,” he interjects, brows pinching together in concern. “He should’ve stopped when he realized you were having a panic attack.”
“Well, to be fair, I told him to keep going. It was totally consensual.”
“Still. He should’ve at least stopped to make sure you were all right. Seems like basic human decency to me.”
“I guess....” She shrugs, knowing that he’s right but not wanting to think about it much longer. “Anyway, after he finished, he told me that having sex with me was like fucking a scared baby deer.” She forces a laugh, though the memory still makes her cringe inside. “Needless to say, I was mortified and never saw him again. And that’s the only time I’ve had sex while sober.”
“And all the times you weren’t sober, did you at least enjoy it?”
She hesitates. “Um, define enjoy.”
He appears even more concerned now. “If you’re having to ask that question, I’m afraid the answer is no. If you enjoyed it, you would know.”
“Well, I just asked because if by ‘enjoy,’ you mean ‘did I orgasm during it,’ then it’s a no. But my anxiety was a lot more under control, so I guess that could be considered a form of enjoyment… Right?”
Rather than answering her question, he asks, “You’ve never orgasmed during sex?”
She shakes her head. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, but her cheeks still feel like they’re on fire.
“Have you ever had an orgasm?”
“Oh, plenty. When I’m alone, that is.”
“I see.” He rubs his jaw and looks away, sinking deep into thought. She can’t read the expression on his face.
“So, now you know how bad I am at sex,” she jokes to fill the silence.
He looks at her with a raised brow. “I don’t know about that. If anything, it’s the guys you’ve been with who were bad at sex if they couldn’t even make you come once.”
“Oh no, they were all very experienced.” Y/N doesn’t know why she’s defending these men, as if they would do the same for her. Perhaps it’s because she’s spent her whole life thinking she was the problem and this is the first time someone has suggested a different perspective to the one she’s become so accustomed to.
“Experience doesn’t always equate to being good at something.”
“I guess not.” She bites her lip and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I do want to try again… with you. I just don’t know how to stay calm without having a few drinks in my system.”
“Yeah, we’ll have to work on that.”
His use of the word “we” doesn’t go unnoticed by her. We, as in this is our problem, not just yours. We, as in we’ll figure this out together, you don’t have to do it alone. She feels a surge of something in her chest, and the only term she can think of to describe it is love.
“I’m calm right now,” she says with sudden realization, placing her wineglass on the table so quickly that it almost topples over. “So, technically, we could try again—”
“No.” He shakes his head. “We’re not having sex for the first time while you’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk drunk though. Just a bit tipsy. I think we could still—”
“Y/N, it’s not happening,” he states firmly. “Other guys might have been okay with that sort of thing, but I’m not, okay?”
Her shoulders slump. She looks down in her lap. “Okay. Sorry. I didn’t mean to pressure you. I just want you to know that I want it as much as you do.”
“I know. Hey”—he tilts up her chin—“we’ll get there. There’s no rush. I’m not going anywhere.”
He has no idea how much of a relief it is to hear those words. Her biggest fear this whole time has been him losing interest in her because she can’t seem to get over her anxiety around sex. It’s happened before. Guys often expect her anxiety to disappear after the first time. When it doesn’t, they take it as a blow to their ego and react by making her feel like a freak for being anxious at all. The humiliation leads to even worse anxiety the next time she gets intimate with someone. It’s a vicious cycle.
She doesn’t want to get her hopes up or anything, but maybe that cycle finally ends with Harry.
***
When it comes to Y/N, Harry just doesn’t know how to keep his hands to himself. Even before they met in person, he would dream of the day he could finally have her in his arms, how perfectly their bodies would mold together, how electrifying that first contact would be. For months, he’s been dying to touch and feel and kiss every inch of her, but after hearing about her sexual history, it’s no surprise why she’s so hesitant to take that step with him.
Taking things slow is not a problem for Harry. If anything, he feels lucky to be the one who gets to show her how fun and exciting and stress-relieving sex can be when the people involved actually care about each other’s pleasure.
It’s been a few days since that initial conversation. They’ve had several more discussions about it since then, and he thinks they’re ready to try something now.
He stares at Y/N lying on his bed, looking cute and cozy in his forest green Pleasing crewneck. Her lips are swollen from all their making out, her neck and collarbone littered with red spots where he licked and sucked on her skin like an ice cream cone.
“Question for you,” he says, leaning his head on his palm. “When’s the last time you touched yourself?”
“Hmm… A couple days ago?”
“Would you feel comfortable doing that in front of me?”
Her eyes widen. “Y—you want to watch me touch myself?”
“Only if you’re okay with it.” Her reaction already indicates that she’s not.
“Oh, I… I don’t think I am,” she admits, confirming his thoughts. “I mean, I don’t even like being watched while I cross the street. It’s like I forget how to walk.”
“Okay, different question. How would you feel about getting in a bath with me?”
She thinks about it. “I’d be okay with that.”
He runs them a bath lightly scented with a lavender oil he bought recently, while Y/N leans against the doorway and watches. Once he begins to undress, she follows suit. Starting with his crewneck, she removes her clothes at an extremely slow pace, as if she’s on the verge of changing her mind at any moment. He finishes undressing before she does and pretends not to notice her eyes bulging at the sight of his dick. Instead, he leans over to the tub to test the temperature of the water.
“I’ll get in first,” he says. “Then you can sit between my legs. Sound good?”
She swallows. “Yup.”
He steps into the tub and submerges everything but his head and upper chest into the water. His back rests against one side, his long legs outstretched in front of him.
In the meantime, Y/N finishes undressing. He forces himself not to stare, knowing that it’ll only make her more nervous. She moves quickly now, striding over to the tub and climbing in on wobbly legs. He holds out his hand for support.
“Careful,” he says.
She sits down between his legs with her back facing him. There’s still a lot of space between them.
“Just lean back against me,” he tells her.
She hesitates for a moment, then leans back until she’s flush against his torso.
He smiles. “There you go.”
“Okay, what now?”
“Nothing. Let’s just sit for a minute.”
They enjoy the next few minutes in companionable silence. The warm water seems to dissolve all the tension in her body, which is exactly why he suggested this idea in the first place. Her shoulders relax. She sinks deeper into him.
After a while, he says, “I’m going to try something. If you don’t like what I’m doing or you want me to stop, I need you to tell me. Don’t worry about hurting my feelings. My ego can handle it. Okay?”
She responds with a tiny nod.
“I need you to answer me verbally, lovie,” he says softly in her ear. “Just so I can be sure we’re on the same page.”
“Yes. Got it. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. Don’t have to apologize.”
“Sorry,” she says again, automatically. “Fuck! Sorr— Shit! Why do I keep—” She starts to sit up, but he places a hand in the middle of her chest, gently pulling her back against him. He can feel her heart galloping like a racehorse.
“Y/N, relax. You’re okay. You’re doing great. Just breathe.”
She inhales a deep, shaky breath, then releases it.
“That’s good. Keep doing that.”
Her heartrate gradually decreases with each breath she takes. Once she appears to have calmed down, he moves his hand from the centre of her chest to one of her breasts, cupping it tenderly in his palm. His other hand comes to rest on her belly before making its descent between her legs. She squirms a little once the pads of his fingers make contact with her clit.
“Are we okay?” he asks.
“Y—yeah.” She takes another deliberate breath.
He rubs her clit in small, tight circles and kneads her breast at the same time. Her hands rest at her sides on top of his thighs. As he pinches her nipple, twisting and pulling it lightly, her fingers dig into his thighs and his cock twitches between their bodies. He wonders if she felt it. His middle finger prods around her slit now and slips inside without resistance. He pumps it in and out a few times before adding a second one, using his thumb to rub her clit.
Y/N is completely silent, but the slick substance coating her pussy and the subtle rocking of her hips is confirmation enough that she’s enjoying this. He peeks at her face to find her eyes closed and her bottom lip pulled between her teeth like she’s afraid of accidentally making a sound.
That is another thing they’ll need to work on. Harry likes being vocal during sex and equally enjoys when his lovers are vocal too. He doesn’t want Y/N to hold anything back around him. But they can work on that another day.
“Does this feel good?” he asks.
She nods, then remembers what he said earlier and answers out loud, “Feels good, yes. Really good.”
Satisfied by her response, he presses a third finger inside and pushes all three of them deep into her with every thrust, turning her into a squirming, quivering mess in his arms. Her back arches off his torso as she comes, the smallest whimper slipping through her self-restraint. He gradually lessens the stimulation on her clit, then removes his fingers completely. She lets her head roll back against his shoulder.
“Wow,” she sighs. “I’ve never… That’s never happened with someone before.”
“Wasn’t too bad, was it?”
“No, it was great. Um… thank you?”
He chuckles. “My pleasure.”
Suddenly, she sits up and looks over her shoulder at him. “So… your turn now?”
He waves his hand, splashing some of the water with it. “Don’t worry about that.”
She frowns. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs casually, trying to act cool as if he can’t feel his dick throbbing furiously under the water right now.
He could take her up on the offer, but he wants to focus on her today. Y/N is too nice to admit it, but he has deduced from their recent conversations that her previous partners were too greedy in the bedroom, exploiting her selfless nature for their own benefit. It’s quite unfortunate. Someone like her deserves to be spoiled, not exploited. At least now that she’s with him, he can make sure she gets the treatment she deserves.
After they’ve cleaned up and stepped out of the tub, he grabs one of the towels off the counter and starts handing it to her, then stops.
“Can I dry you off?” he asks.
She seems surprised but not opposed to the idea. “Sure.”
“Okay, just one moment.” He quickly pats himself dry, then grabs the other towel and walks over to her.
Timid eyes gaze up at him. They fall shut as he raises the towel to her face and dabs away all the little water droplets. Next, he moves down to her neck, shoulders, chest, and so on… After he’s done with her upper body, he sinks down to his knees on the mat and works on her lower half, taking his sweet time and humming softly to himself. He glances up to find her smiling at him.
Once her entire body is dry, he leans forward and plants a kiss to her belly before standing up with the towel thrown over his shoulder. Y/N’s eyes follow him as if in a trance.
“All good?”
She just blinks at him.
“Y/N?”
“I’m in love with you.” The words rush out of her like a whoosh of air that had been trapped in a sealed container. “God, it feels weird saying it out loud. It’s been in my head for so long and I didn’t want to say it because that makes it feel more… real.”
“Why’s that a bad thing?”
She doesn’t reply.
“Because you think I don’t feel the same way?”
“Do you?” She winces slightly as if she’s bracing herself for possible rejection, as if the answer to that question could be anything but “absolutely, positively, one-hundred percent yes.”
“Of course I do, Y/N. I thought I’d made that pretty obvious.”
“You should know by now that nothing is obvious with me.”
It’s true. Even when they were just friends and Harry began dropping hints that he wanted to be more than that, they pretty much all went over her head. Y/N is a smart woman; she just happens to be totally oblivious when it comes to love and romance, which he finds deeply endearing about her.
“Well, take this as your confirmation that I am, in fact, very much in love with you,” he states, taking her face in his hands and giving her a big, sloppy smooch on the lips, which she accepts with a laugh.
***
“That’s it, lovie. Keep going. You’re doing amazing.”
Y/N rocks back and forth on Harry’s thigh, her cunt positioned directly over his tiger tattoo. His thick, firm quads provide the perfect amount of friction against her needy clit.
A week ago, the idea of riding his thigh while he watched her would have made her extremely self-conscious. But since then, they’ve spent each night exploring each other’s bodies. He has given her several more orgasms with his fingers and mouth, while she has given him some with her hand. They’ve masturbated in front of each other. One night, he gave her a full-body massage that turned her on so much that he hardly even had to touch her clit to make her come.
She doesn’t mind being watched anymore. Not by Harry, at least. His gaze is never judgemental or critical. She doesn’t need to fret over saying or doing the wrong thing and ruining the moment. This has made her fall even more head over heels for him.
“Look so pretty getting yourself off on my thigh like this,” he says, toying with her breasts.
A moan starts to leave her mouth until she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth to trap it in. Harry reaches up and drags her lip back down with his thumb.
“Let me hear you,” he says. “Wanna hear how good this makes you feel.” He grips her chin between his thumb and index finger, keeping her mouth open.
She’s close now, the heat of her orgasm building in her core. Her hips grind faster against him. He lifts up his thigh to heighten the pressure on her clit. The tight knot in her lower abdomen unravels, and she comes with a loud moan, soaking his thigh with her juices.
“You make the sweetest sounds when you come,” he says, releasing her chin.
She pecks him on the lips and, before she’s even recovered from her orgasm, gets on her knees between his legs.
He frowns. “What are you doing?”
She looks at him like it should be obvious. “Returning the favour?” As she begins to reach for his cock, he grabs her wrist.
“Nope,” he says. “You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Act like you have to pay me back for every orgasm. Sex doesn’t have to be so transactional, you know?” The smirk on his face conveys that he’s joking, but that doesn’t stop Y/N from having the sudden, embarrassing realization that perhaps she does treat sex like it’s transactional and just wasn’t aware of it until now.
“I—I know that,” she fibs a little. “I just want to make you feel good.” That part, at least, is not a lie.
Harry has been spoiling her heavily this past week, which has been delightful. She can tell he’s making every effort to gain her trust in the fact that he doesn’t expect anything in return for how incredible he makes her feel. But Y/N likes making him feel good too. She likes the way he hisses and shudders when she finds his most sensitive spots. She likes watching his usual composure crumble simply from her touch. She lives for it.
“Please?” she adds to her request, giving him her best doe eyes.
“Okay,” he says. “If you really want to.”
“I do.”
He lets go of her wrist, allowing her to reach for his stiff cock again. Nerves make her hands tremble, as she remembers how long it’s been since she gave someone a blowjob. She wants it to be perfect, but realistically, she’ll probably be a bit rusty.
She strokes him in her hand and runs her tongue along the underside of his shaft until, finally, she feels ready to take him in her mouth. Her lips wrap around his tip and slowly move down his length, tongue gliding against him. She considers deep-throating, then decides against it because it’s been way too long since she’s done it and she needs time to work up to it again. Any insecurity she felt about that disappears the moment she glances up at Harry. His eyes are closed and jaw clenched, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.
Emboldened by the look of absolute ecstasy on his face, she bobs her head up and down his shaft and massages his balls with her hand. She moans around him, and he releases a low groan at the sensation it produces. Then she lets his entire length slip from her mouth, teasing him by flicking her tongue over his tip and leaving little kisses along his shaft until his fingers are weaving through her hair in desperation.
“Didn’t know you could be such a tease,” he says with a breathy laugh.
She grins innocently, then takes him into her mouth again, determined to suck him to completion this time. His hand feels good in her hair. She imagines him holding her head in place while he fucks her mouth. She never thought she would be into that sort of thing until now.
“I’m gonna come soon, Y/N,” he warns her as he gets close.
She doesn’t pull away. He thinks she didn’t hear him, so he repeats himself. She makes eye contact to convey that she heard him, that she wants him to come in her mouth, which he does moments later. She relishes the taste of it, swallowing every last drop. As she draws back and wipes her mouth clean, he stares at her in amazement.
“You’re really fucking good at that,” he tells her.
“Thanks! I had this boyfriend in college who only wanted blowjobs all the time since that didn’t involve having to make me come, which was basically impossible for him. He was kind of demanding, but he taught me how to give a damn good blowjob.”
Harry grimaces. “You know, the more I learn about your previous partners, the more I want to hit them over the head with something.”
She laughs. “I think I make them seem meaner than they were.”
“No, I think you make them seem nicer than they were.” He pats his thigh. “Get up here.”
She stands up and sits on his thigh with her legs dangling between his this time. His arm wraps around her back.
Locking his eyes on hers, he says, “You are worth so much more than being some guy’s blowjob dispenser, all right?”
“I know, I know,” she says. “I was just young and naive back then, but I know better now.”
“Good. Don’t ever let any man or woman treat you that way. Okay?”
His eyes are so full of care and concern for her that she thinks she might just cry.
“Okay,” she replies.
***
Harry loves writing about the initial euphoria that comes with falling in love. It’s intoxicating and exhilarating and all-consuming. Many of his most successful songs were inspired by this peculiar feeling. It’s no wonder that he keeps heading into the studio lately to harness all this creative energy and inject it into his music.
Today, Tom, Tyler, and Mitch are all in the studio with him. Mitch is riffing on his guitar while Harry adlibs over it when Jeff pokes his head into the room.
“H, Y/N’s here to see you,” he says.
Harry raises his brows. “She is?” She didn’t tell him that she’d be visiting the studio today.
“Yeah, she’s waiting out front.”
“Is she all right? Did she say why she’s here?”
Jeff shrugs. “No clue. She seemed fine.”
Y/N always seems “fine.” She’s quite skilled at pretending everything is okay when it’s not, which can be rather concerning. Harry tells the guys he’ll be back, then heads to the front of the studio where he finds his girlfriend staring at a wall decorated from top to bottom with framed album covers of legendary musicians.
“Hi, darling,” he says as he approaches.
She turns to him, eyes illuminating as soon as they meet his. “Hi! Sorry, I told Jeff not to go get you, but he did anyway.” She gives him an apologetic smile. “I hope you weren’t in the middle of something. I swear if you were writing your next Grammy-winning single and I just ruined your flow, I’ll be so mad at myself.”
“Stop it. You haven’t ruined anything.” He steps closer, taking her hands. “Now tell me what brought you here. Are you okay?”
He studies her as she replies, “Yes, I’m fine. I’m not here for any particular reason. I just…” She hesitates. “I needed to see you.” As soon as she says it, her eyes squeeze shut. “Fuck, that sounds so needy.”
“That’s okay. We all get needy sometimes. Do you want to sit in the studio with me?”
She bites her lip, giving it some thought before shaking her head.
“Okay.” He brings her hands between their bodies, swinging them apart and together again. “Then tell me what you need.”
“I—I need…” She glances down in the general direction of his crotch.
A smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. “You need…?”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t make me say it.”
He tilts his head to side, feigning innocence. “Say what?”
“Baby…”
He wanted to make her say it, but the pleading look in her eyes makes him cave. “You need my cock, is that it?”
“Shhh! Not so loud!” Her head spins around to make sure no one heard them.
He laughs. “There’s no one around, lovie.”
“Still!” She sighs and presses her hands against her flaming cheeks. “It’s not fair. You’ve been teasing me with it this whole week, and it’s all I can think about. Couldn’t even focus on my art today because I kept thinking about how…”—she drops her voice to a barely audible whisper—“how you would feel inside me.”
It’s been exactly a week since Y/N first hinted that she’s ready to go all the way with him. Harry was the one who wanted to put it off a little longer. He predicted that if he made her wait long enough, her hunger for it would overpower any anxiety that might crop up during the act.
Smiling, he brings his hand up to her cheek, her skin hot against his cool palm. “Aw, I know, sweetheart. You know the only reason I’ve been teasing is to make sure you’re ready for it.”
“I know. And I’m ready now. I really am.”
“Okay, but we can’t exactly do it here, you know that?”
“Why not? Isn’t there a bathroom in here somewhere?” She pushes up on her toes to look over his shoulder down the hallway where he came from.
“We’re not fucking in the studio bathroom, Y/N.”
She groans and lifts her hands up to his chest, scrunching his shirt between her fingers. “But I can’t wait any longer!”
“Yes, you can.” He wraps his hands around her wrists. “You’re going to be a good girl for me and wait until I pick you up from your flat tonight.”
She pouts and concedes, “Fine.”
He kisses her pout and gives her a hug that lasts for several minutes because she doesn’t want to let go and he never lets go until she does, so they’re in a standoff for who’s going to let go first until finally, Y/N releases him.
After that, the rest of the day moves at a snail-like pace. Harry can hardly focus; he’s too distracted by the thought of what’s to come tonight. Every lyric he comes up with sounds too raunchy to put in an actual song. Even his friends jokingly speculate about why he’s acting so strange—especially Tom, who just loves to make him squirm.
That evening, he has to make a conscious effort not to speed all the way to Y/N’s flat. The plan was to pick her up, take her back to his place, and maybe eat dinner before having their fun, but he thinks he’ll have to skip most of those steps.
Y/N buzzes him into her building. She’s on the second floor, so he doesn’t even bother with the elevator and takes the stairs two at a time. As soon as she lets him in, his mouth is on hers. She kisses him right back, throwing her arms around his neck and pressing up against him. They make their way to her bedroom and remove all their clothes, ending up on the bed with him on top of her.
“Naughty girl,” he says between kisses to her neck. “Came all the way to the studio because you were needy for my cock, hm?”
She covers her face with her hands. “H, don’t tease! I’m embarrassed enough as it is.”
He gently pulls her hands away from her face. “Don’t be embarrassed. Do you have any idea how sexy it is that you want me that badly? Got me all hot and bothered at the studio. Could barely keep myself together for the rest of the day.”
A mischievous little grin makes its way onto her face. “Really?”
“Yes, really. That’s the effect you have on me.” His hand drifts down between her legs to find that she’s already drenched, so he grabs his cock and runs the tip up and down her slit. When he looks back up at her face, there’s a hint of apprehension that wasn’t there before. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just remembered that I haven’t had something so, uh”—she swallows, glancing down at his cock—“big inside me in a while.”
“Do you want to be on top? That way, you can go at your own pace.”
“What if my pace is too slow and you can’t come?”
“What if I come two seconds after I’m inside you? Would you still love me?”
“Of course!”
“There’s your answer then.”
She squints at him, her lips curving up. “Well played.”
They switch positions so that she’s on top of him, straddling his hips while he leans back against the headboard. She carefully guides his cock up to her entrance, inserting the tip before lowering herself onto him. Her tight walls stretch and expand to accommodate him. She winces from the discomfort. He massages her hips, reminding her to take her time.
It takes her several attempts to get him all the way in, but once he’s there, the feeling is indescribable. He curses under his breath, closing his eyes briefly.
“Is that okay?” she asks.
“Perfect,” he responds in a strained voice. “It’s perfect.”
She seems reassured by his response and starts moving her hips in slow circles, getting used to having him inside her. Then she lifts up and sinks all the way down again. Soon enough, she’s riding him at a steady pace, her hands on his shoulders, her breasts swaying gorgeously in his face, beckoning him to place his hands over them. He has pictured this moment so many times, he can’t believe that it’s finally happening.
He starts thrusting up into her, meeting her halfway. As his thrusts become sharper, her jaw drops open.
“Harry—”
The sound of his name slipping out of her mouth like that, all salacious and full of yearning, is a drug he can see himself getting addicted to.
“Please,” she whines.
He slows down, worried that he might have been too rough. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just— Please don’t stop. It feels so good.”
“Feels good, huh? Someone finally fucking you like you deserve?”
She nods, her eyes rolling back as he resumes the movement of his hips.
“This is what it’s supposed to feel like,” he tells her. “Remember this.”
“Oh, I will.” She barely finishes her sentence before he pounds into her again.
He feels himself about to crest and reaches down to rub her clit. A final medley of moans and grunts leave their mouths as they come. Her pussy spasms around his pulsing length. As the waves of pleasure subside, her body goes completely slack in his arms, worn out from the intensity of the experience they just shared. She rests her head against his shoulder, basking in the afterglow while he brushes his fingers through her hair.
Her soft voice breaks through the silence. “I didn’t know it could feel this good. I’ve been missing out.”
“We’ve got plenty of time to catch you up. Don’t you worry.” He kisses the side of her head, earning a contented sigh from her.
***
Thank you for reading! For more anxious!reader and other fics, check out my MASTERLIST
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0oolookitsme · 6 months
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Buckle up besties because I'm taking y'all on a wild ride! I'm hosting 'Kinktober', which means that kinky-smutty fics will be on your dash for the whole of October! We'll be celebrating for 7 days -- the fics will be spread out throughout the month. The titles and descriptions will be added along with the fics, and the schedule will be like this:
2 OCT, Mon: (DWD!Harry x DWD!Y/n) Guided Masturbation, Phone Sex
Been Thinking - Harry calls Y/n to tell her that he would be staying in the office for the night, but Y/n'd been thinking about him all day and just wanted him so bad. (WC - 1.6k)
...
7 OCT, Sat: (Artist!Harry x Housewife!Y/n) Praise kink, Face Sitting
Better than the Dream - In which Y/n woke up on rubbing against Harry's thigh in her sleep and when Harry offers to take care of her, she can't help but let her insecurities creep-up on her. But, Harry still ends up persuading her into enjoying her time while their toddler's gone. (WC - 1.7k)
...
9 OCT, Mon: (Model!Harry x Fashion Designer!Y/n) Mommy kink, Dry Humping, Mirror Sex, Over Stimulation
Another One? - Y/n told Harry that if he's good for her throughout their time at the small get-together, she would reward him at the end of the night. But, Harry ends up getting a bit overwhelmed, and then rebellious -- causing Y/n to, instead, punish him. (WC - 4k)
...
14 OCT, SAT: (Baker!Harry x Florist!Y/n) Thigh Riding, Teasing
The Thigh Tattoo - In which Y/n finally accepts that Harry's tiger tattoo is her favourite, and finally shows it some 'interest'. (WC - 2.1k)
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16 OCT, Mon: (Footballer!Harry x Art Director!Y/n) Daddy Kink, Face Fucking, Breeding Kink, Praise Kink
Daddy of Three - Harry is such a good father that Y/n can't help but want another baby, and who is Harry to deny her what she wants? And, while he is going to be a daddy for two -- he can't help but point out that Y/n needs one at all times, as well. (WC - 2.2k)
...
21 OCT, Sat: (Singer!Harry x CEO!Y/n) Sir Kink, Degradation Kink, Choking, Begging, Spanking
So Despicable - In which once Y/n is home, she can't help but feel as if something is off with Harry. She only comes to know the cause once he's got her laid across his lap and is telling her just how despicable she is. (WC - 2.1k)
...
23 OCT, Mon: (Devil!Harry x Assassin!Y/n) Knife Play, Biting, Marking
Feel Special Now? - Y/n pulls Harry's leg by asking him why she can't mess with the devil. How else were she to feel special? Thereupon, Harry makes sure she knows just how many merits she has for being dear to him. (WC - 1.5k)
...
MASTERLIST
Please come into my inbox and tell me your thoughts, feelings, and favourite moments. Feel free to send in requests, and ask if you want to be added in the taglist for this! Thank you <3
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harrysonlylover · 1 year
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Find Your Pleasing*
In which you have a heated meeting with the hot CEO
Wc:2.4k
Warnings: MATURE & SMUTTY CONTENT.
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The floor was buzzing with workers frantically running from one room to the other as they made sure everything was perfect and neat for him.
Mr. Harry Styles, owner, and founder of Pleasing for sex toys. He started this company from the bottom in 2017 with no one to motivate him but his own will.
Back then CEOs of big companies laughed in his face when he proposed his project, they even scoffed and made fun of him. Now they are waiting in the lobby for their turn to have a word with him. He likes- no loves how they behaved after he outsmarted them in the business field, he even enjoyed watching their face turn pale whenever they entered the headquarters because everyone knows that he’ll be reigning on the top for a very long time.
The secret to his success was the face of Pleasing which also happens to be him. He caused a revolution of some type in the sex toys world after he launched an ad making every man and woman drool for him. There were even rumors about couples breaking up thanks to Pleasing’s glorious toys. When the news reached Harry he smirked, secretly liking the idea of having power over others.
He didn’t even need to try and well the rest is history.
There are lots of things that the public does not know about the successful young man, one of which is his sex club also called “Pleasing”. It is mistaken for being inspired by the company, little do they know the devil himself built both of them.
The sound of printing machines, telephones, and employees shouting got closer as you neared the 5th floor also known as Styles’ Headquarters. You had a job interview and you were required to know some crucial details about him.
You approached the receptionist who was thankfully not so busy and she helped you reach his office, the room that was isolated from the entire floor.
She went in before you and you could faintly hear the murmur of words exchanged between them. It wasn’t long before she gave you the green light to enter.
A big mahogany desk was placed in the center of the room behind which he stood with his back to you, and you couldn’t help but notice the display of many sex toys on the counter.
At the sound of your footsteps, he turned around, his right hand still placed on his hip. He was dressed in an elegant navy suit that made sure he appears as the CEO. You caught a glimpse of his painted fingernails varying from turquoise to transparent while his hands were complimented by luxurious rings, a lion, a pearl, and his initials. You were very familiar with his hands just like the rest of the world was.
“Mrs. Y/N it’s an honor to finally meet you, have a seat please.” He signaled to the comfortable chair in front of his desk.
“Same goes for you, Mr. Styles.” You smiled as you lowered your skirt to adjust your seating while feeling his eyes raking your body.
“I know, now y/n please call me Harry. I hope this doesn’t bother you but I would rather be straightforward with this.” He was now standing in front of you leaning on his desk with his arms crossed over his chest, and you caught a whiff of his perfume. Tobacco Vanille that sent vibrations throughout your body.
“I’m a very busy man and I’m in a rush but please don’t worry I already scanned your file, so I’m being righteous with you. Which is why I prepared questions for you to answer.” He spoke fishing out a document and relaxing more on the desk, you couldn’t help but let your eyes drift to his front and you wondered if it was a bulge or just a wrinkle of his pants.
“Anything caught your attention, Miss?” You immediately straightened your posture trying not to turn red in the face.
“No nothing Mr- Harry.” He hummed and flipped the papers while you refrained from looking down again.
“So I gather that you’ve worked with big companies before, nice work indeed. How would you approach Pleasing’s designs?” He turned his gaze to you and rubbed the light stubble on his chin.
“First of all Pleasing has a wide range of items that are no doubt causing global chaos in a good way of course. No one is even thinking of designing sex toys anymore as they stand no chance but Mr. Harry did you ever ask your customers what they want.?”
He was listening to you attentively, his eyes never leaving yours and the corners of his mouth were itching to offer you a grin.
“Sometimes yes, but how do you suggest that happens?”
“You focus on the people who are against Pleasing, who do not enjoy sex toys. Dig deep into what makes them feel good, I think that the initiative you’re looking for here is not to sell more toys but to help everyone find pleasure. Even those that think they can’t.” You spoke confidently already feeling him become amused at your thoughts.
“Hm, so Miss tell me what would the motto be for this campaign?” He shifted around and stood behind your chair, his fingers lingering over the expensive leather.
“Find your pleasing.”
“And do you know what’s yours?” He leaned down and whispered in your ear and you could swear his voice suddenly became deeper.
You nodded your head and he moved forward examining the display of toys, his left hand was in his pocket while the other hovered over the items till he picked the one.
“This is a unique one, I didn’t get to try it yet but I’d love to give you the honor.” He presented it forward in front of you like a piece of candy. It was a plug or at least it looked like one but with a button on the side.
“Now?” You inquired feeling a bit surprised at his playfulness.
“Only if you feel like it Miss, I’d never push you out of your comfort zone. If you want you can take –“
“Tell me Harry do you know what’s your own ‘Pleasing’ “ you shot back at him as you watched his expression shift and eyes darken.
“Hm yes I do but I’m afraid I’m a visual demonstrator Darling.” He lowered down to your level and his hot breath was doing things to you.
“And I’m a fast learner Harry.” He wasted no time in grabbing you by the throat, managing to pull you up on the counter without hurting you just keeping a good amount of pressure on your neck.
He kissed all over your collarbone as you wrapped your heels around his torso, and his cock was being pressed into your core.
“I find my pleasing in others, so pretty girl when you get yours I’ll get mine.” He muttered hungrily over your lips pushing his tongue as his jaw flexed. His hand found its way beneath your skirt and immediately cupped your cunt with his ringed hands.
“I saw how you were looking at my hands pretty, you’re not so sly you know? What did you want, my hands to hold your cunt like this as you hump for relief? His thumb was pressed on your clit making you jolt while his buttoned nose grazed your neck.
“Yes and your thick fingers inside.” You replied quickly as you were heating up by the moment.
He suddenly pulled back and removed all of his rings, slicing his eyes up to you while smirking before placing the rings on your fingers. They were a bit lose and almost fell out.
“Tsk tsk even my rings can’t fit, how will you handle me pretty.” He chuckled pushing one finger inside making you grasp onto his shoulders.
He gently added another finger and began massaging your labia, with his forehead laid against yours. He fastened his pace going in circles and when he found your g-spot he teased you by delicately returning to his massaging technique.
You moaned against him, with your nails digging into his back. He was smiling at the sight of you falling apart on his touch.
“See this? This is my ‘Pleasing’, getting to satisfy a woman like you. Look at these pretty moans and your fucked out state already riding my fingers like a whore. Anything to get stuffed yeah?” He bit at your earlobe and when you didn’t answer him, he curled his fingers at your g-spot.
“Yes I love it, I love your thick fingers inside of me.” You continued to moan in ecstasy feeling his fingers hit deep spots and despite trying to jerk and shift around he kept a firm grip on your hips.
His thumb moved to your swollen clit lightly tapping at it before pinching it and grinning when he heard you scream due to oversensitivity.
“My favorite spot, this little pearl just like the ring yeh? Like being in heat as I play with it?” His other hand dug into your back resulting in the both of you becoming fully intertwined as you shifted closer to him.
“Please I need to cum Harry.” You begged in a rush, his fingers felt so good and the pressure in your lower stomach was getting more and more intense.
“Cum pretty, let me find my ‘Pleasing’ in yours.” And right on cue you closed your eyes shut, as you saw nothing but black, his eyes were still set on your face watching you almost black out from the mind-blowing orgasm he just gave you.
He leaned forward kissing the tip of your nose and slowly removed his fingers for a taste making you whine at the empty feeling.
“You just had an orgasm and you still need something inside you?.” He raised his eyebrows not to inquire but to make sure.
“Need you to stretch me out real good Harry.”
That was all he needed to hear before he unbuckled his pants and dropped them to his ankles, his bulge looked painful as he took his briefs off to reveal his erect cock ready and glistening with precum.
He grabbed you roughly placing you on your stomach with your ass in the air and ripped off your skirt with his bare hands effortlessly.
“My ski-“
“I’ll buy you a Skirts company.”
He mumbled through heavy pants before leaning down to your cunt and grazing his nose at it before breathing in its scent and groaning loudly.
If you could see him right now he’d probably be looking at your puffy pussy with puppy eyes and a drooling mouth.
You wiggled your ass back at him making him chuckle and bite at your ass before standing up and placing his tip at your entrance.
He plunged in slowly but easily due to your wetness, you were so warm and snug yet so fucking tight he had to grit his teeth to stop himself from coming despite having stamina.
“Perfect pussy wanna make it drip all day fucking hell.” He rolled his eyes back and moved his hips slowly before pulling you back to his chest by your hair and thrusting in at a fast pace.
The sound of skin slapping and moaning filled the room as he whispered the filthiest words in your ear.
“My Pleasing is destroying your cunt and knowing you love every second of it.”
“My Pleasing is seeing you beg to be filled with me as you tell me how much you adore being a cockslut.”
“So tight already eager to milk every drop yeah? Well, take all of it it’s yours.”
He nibbled at your earlobe and you could no longer do anything but moan and whimper at the feeling of his veins massaging your walls as he hit your g-spot repeatedly. His thick cock stretched you out and reached your insides as he poked near your belly button.
His hand was around your neck choking you, while the other pinched your clit to overstimulate you making you jolt and cry out in pleasure.
“When you beg for it, it means you should be able to take it.” He slapped your sensitive clit three times as you clenched around his cock uncontrollably letting go and reaching your second orgasm.
Harry followed you immediately too overwhelmed by your tightness, you stood chest to back with his bicep tightly wrapped around you while he spilled into you, load after the other.
“Take all of my cum, let your cunt swallow it up.”
His hips stilled inside of you until every last drop was spilled, he moved strands of your hair from around your face, allowing himself to kiss all over your skin.
He reached over grabbing the same toy from earlier. “May I?”
You nodded your head feeling eager for what he was for you, he slowly pulled out not giving the chance for any of his cum to drip before inserting the plug inside your creamy cunt.
You hissed at the feeling of it along with the sticky cum, his eyes were twinkling as he almost died from the sight.
“My ‘Pleasing’ is making pretty plugs to keep cum where it belongs.” He whispered and reached down to the button you thought about and pressed it making it vibrate with the cum inside of you allowing it to reach even deeper.
“H-harry too sensitive.” You tightened your grip on him as you could quite literally feel the cum vibrate inside of you.
He smirked and turned off the button only to push another one leaving you with a whole other feeling.
Emptiness.
“What is this?.” He laughed at your shock before pulling the plug out of you and showing you its transparent tube filled with cum.
“This one allows you to hold on to cum when you need it, fills up sluts like you when needed. Now open up.” He tipped your head backward and you didn’t get to see what he did since the cum was already spilling on your tongue.
He ordered you to take every drop and you did. You laid down on your back feeling spent out as he got a wet cloth and began cleaning your thighs and pussy gently leaving delicate kisses there.
When he was done he tossed the cloth aside and sat back down with you in his lap and head buried in his chest.
“Did my little minx like my new invention?” He asked feeling quite eager for the answer.
“Very much my love.”
There are lots of things that the public doesn’t know about the young successful man, one of them is his love life…
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stylesloveclub · 2 years
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Pleasing
In which y/n is a broke waitress, and Harry thinks she’s cuter than a puppy. (part 1)
˙· .° 。  ˚ 。  ° . · ˚ ˙ · . ° 。 ˚ 。  ° . · ˙ · .° 。 ˚ 。 °.  · ˙ ‧̍̊  
Y/n didn’t really want to be a waitress. 
She doesn’t suppose anyone does, really. It certainly wasn’t the most flattering title― having to wait on other people, or deal with the nasty attitudes of the entitled celebrities and CEO’s that chose to eat at Pleasing―  the high class restaurant that she worked at. But, it was what she had to do. College wasn’t cheap, and y/n needed some form of income to help pay her way through.
She’d worked a lot of jobs to support herself before she ended up at Pleasing― she’d been a barista at the campus coffee shop, a receptionist at the bookstore, and had even tried becoming a tour guide for the little high schoolers that came for campus tours! But... the managers on campus expected far too much from their full-time student employees. Y/n swears they purposefully gave her the shifts that ended 10 minutes before her classes started so that she’d have to run all the way from one end of campus to the other. And, they didn’t even pay well! With the amount she was paying for tuition, she expected that her school would’ve at least been able to pay their employees more than just minimum wage! 
That’s why, after quitting her last attempt at a campus job, y/n decided to go job hunting in the nice part of town. Sure, it was a bit far from the one bedroom college apartment she lived in… but in her opinion, the 30 minute walk was entirely worth it.
The buildings downtown were a completely different world from the university buildings she had initially limited herself to. All the venues were high class, with chandeliers and marble floors and air conditioning. 20 floor tall corporate buildings painted the sky, bustling with men wearing $50,000 watches and women in pantsuits that probably cost more than y/n’s entire wardrobe. Across the street from those skyscrapers were shopping centers with department stores that had that same high-class, expensive look to them. They were the kind of designer stores that served their shoppers champagne while they looked at luxury bags and expensive shoes― the kind of stores that laughed at y/n when she stumbled in with her tote bag and tattered shoes, asking for job openings. 
She knew that she wasn’t the type of person who belonged in that area. She was a broke college student― the most expensive thing she had in her closet was a pair of boots that she’d splurged on after she soaked her only pair of sneakers while walking to class in the rain. But her brokenness was the precise reason that she needed a job in the part of the city where it was a social norm to tip more than 20%. 
She considers herself superbly lucky that she’d mustered up the courage to go into Pleasing after an entire day of being laughed out of stores due to her “lack of elegance and sophistication” or whatever the fuck they managed to criticize her for. Somehow, she’d stumbled into the restaurant on the very same night that one of the other waitresses had been fired! (If she thinks hard enough, she vaguely remembers a girl wearing an apron running out of the restaurant crying, but she hadn’t paid any mind to it at the time as she was too distracted by the glittering chandelier that hung from the sitting room ceiling.)
Pleasing’s staff manager (an older, balding man named Alfredo, who had a mustache that twisted up at the ends and carried a handkerchief to wipe the sweat off of his forehead every five minutes), had been so frantic at the fact that they were yet another waitress short, that y/n had nearly been hired on the spot. She only received a brief interview that consisted of a few questions about her past experience in the service industry and a quick briefing on the importance of maintaining a high class appearance and treating their customers with the utmost respect. Y/n blindly agreed to all of this, and even hummed her agreement a few times just to butter Alfredo up, figuring that it wouldn’t be too hard to maintain a classy facade while dealing with these high-class customers. If it paid the bills, then she could pretend to be anything. 
Her job offer was a quick, “You’re cute enough. Be here tomorrow at 6, your uniform will be provided― hair must be up, shoes must be black, and smile must always be on!” …and that was how she started. 
She had somewhat of an idea of how expensive a restaurant Pleasing actually was from the general atmosphere of the place― but when she saw the menu… that’s when she truly realized that she was in the world of the upper-class. Each plate was $70, at minimum, and there was always a bottle of $200 wine to accompany the meal. The food was served on the most expensive fine china y/n had ever seen, with the kind of silver cutlery that she thinks you could only find in Buckingham Palace. The patrons had an unspoken dress code, with the men dressed in well pressed suits and button downs, and the ladies in cocktail dresses and sparkling diamonds. There was no sign of children anywhere, and she wondered if that was just because the rich people who ate at Pleasing were too busy making money to make babies… or if it was just a child-free restaurant. 
When she showed up for her first day (with her hair twisted into a bun, a pair of black ballet flats that she got in the clearance bins of one of the department stores nearby, and an anxious smile plastered on her face!) Alfredo assigned her to spend the entire shift shadowing one of the other waitresses (Grace) to ensure that she knew exactly what kind of hospitality was expected towards the people they served. As they walked from table to table, she gave y/n the rundown of how Pleasing worked. Apparently, the restaurant was owned by this millionaire chef who rarely ever actually cooked at the restaurant. He had four Michelin stars (y/n doesn’t really know what that means but she guesses it means he’s a good cook) and usually was traveling around the world, cooking for royals and politicians and all sorts of important people. 
Occasionally, he would have special nights where he would come back for “In-Chef Nights” as they called it, nights where people were willing to pay nearly a thousand dollars just to have their food cooked by Chef Styles― the world-renowned, multi-millionaire, gourmet chef. Those were the busiest nights of the year at Pleasing, according to Grace, but they only happened maybe once a month. Even on the nights Chef Styles wasn’t there, however, having the Styles name tied to the restaurant was enough for people to want a table at the restaurant to try his famous recipes and quality service. 
“He’s kind of a big deal,” Grace had whispered to y/n while grabbing a saffron and lobster Risotto from the counter to take out to a couple seated on the restaurant balcony. “I’ve never met him, but I’ve heard he’s super intimidating. Kinda mean too, he fires people all the time if they aren’t up to his standards.”
From that night when she was hired, all the way into about a month of working at Pleasing, y/n had never had an encounter with Mr. Styles either. She’d been allowed to start waiting on tables by herself starting her second night there, and quickly came to learn that the customers that she served were… not ordinary.
Simply put, the people who ate at Pleasing were all… pompous, rich assholes with no decency or basic manners. They barely acknowledged y/n when she was serving them, gave her nasty side-eyes when she smiled at them, and made her feel downright awful from the way they looked down on her. 
There was always some douchebag who would try to sweet talk y/n in exchange for a free cocktail, or a middle-aged woman who would complain about everything and demand that her food be sent back to the kitchen. They’d make up some bullshit about how they had asked for no sesame seeds on their curry, when y/n knew damn well that they hadn’t mentioned anything about any sort of seeds when she had taken their order. Old men would blatantly stare at her chest, while their younger, model dates would make snarky comments about how y/n’s ballet flats were so last season while she walked away from their tables. She didn’t even know that there was a season for shoes, but it still hurt her feelings! 
Now normally, y/n was able to put up a strong front and just ignore the rude customers. She’d force a smile and a polite “I’m sorry to hear that miss, let me get you a new plate right away,” and just imagine punching those people in the face to help herself calm down. 
But tonight… it all just got to be too much. She’d already had a shitty day at school― she’d slept through her alarm and was late to her morning class, had a physics midterm that she’s pretty sure she failed, and accidentally left her calculus notebook at her apartment, which meant she had to take her calculus notes in her physics notebook instead (and she really hates when her notes get mixed up because she honestly has no idea what's going on in either class anyway so it just becomes extra confusing!!!).
So when one of her customers with graying hair and obvious anger issues threw his drink on y/n and called her an ‘incompetent, stupid girl’ after he decided that his merlot hadn’t been chilled properly… well y/n really couldn’t hold back the tears for much longer. 
She managed to politely tell the man that she’d send someone to clean up and help him resolve the issues with his meal, before scurrying to the kitchen to find Grace.
“Oh, what’s wrong sweetheart!” Grace coos as soon as she sees y/n’s tear glazed eyes and stained shirt. 
“H-he threw his drink on me,” she blubbers out, her hands rubbing furiously at her eyes as if she could just erase the tears threatening to spill. 
Grace gasps, “He didn’t! Oh, I’ll go out there n’give him a piece of my mind right now, bubbles. You need a second to get yourself together?” 
Y/n nods, sniffling harshly and letting out a shaky breath. 
“M’kay,” Grace pulls her in for a hug, “you go and sit outside for however long y’need, ‘n I’ll cover the rest of your tables until you’re ready, ‘kay? I’ll try n’find you a shirt too sweetie, don’t worry about anything, just go n’get some fresh air.” 
Y/n bleats out a small (but gracious) thank you, before running out of the back entrance to the employee parking lot behind the restaurant. She just needs a little bit of time for herself, a second to let all the tears out and to cry her troubles away. A moment to just privately recollect herself so that she could go back to work with a fresh mind. 
She’s startled when she finds that the parking lot isn't empty the way she’d expected. Instead, she steps out and sees two guys. One of them she recognizes as Kevin – an assistant chef who works in the kitchen― but the other one is facing away from her, just an intimidating figure in the dark. The mystery man stands a few inches taller than Kevin, dressed in a dark, well-pressed suit that seems as though it’s been tailored to fit him perfectly. The jacket compliments his broad shoulders and lean waist, cutting off right above his hips to show the way his pants hug his thighs. They flare out at the bottom elegantly to reveal a pair of sleek, black boots with a small heel on them. 
Y/n is so intrigued by the mystery man, that she doesn’t even realize that she’s walked in on a heated discussion between the two of them. “You could’ve fuckin’ killed a customer!” the man yells at Kevin, “Cos’ your head was up y’fuckin ass! You’re lucky they noticed there were peanuts in the lady’s meal or else we would’ve had to call a fucking ambulance n’ it would’ve been on your ass!” 
Y/n thinks they might be talking about the one customer that came in tonight with a severe nut allergy, but she’s not entirely sure.
Kevin holds his poofy little chef hat in his hands as he pipes up, “I was just―”
“You were what? Too busy texting y’pals to pay attention to the notes on the order? There’s a fucking rule against having your phone in the kitchen for a reason you idiot!” The man shakes his head exasperatedly and lets out a disbelieving sigh, “Get out of here, you’re fired. Don’t even think about puttin’ this restaurant on your references because m’not gonna say anything nice.” 
As Kevin stomps away angrily, the man turns on his heel and heads back towards the restaurant, finally allowing y/n to see his face. He’s not someone she’s ever seen around the restaurant before, but considering how he just fired someone, she assumes he must be important. Despite the way his green eyes glimmer prettily in the outdoor lighting, the man is terribly intimidating, with furrowed eyebrows and a hard glare. When those hard eyes flicker up to look at y/n, who’s still standing in the doorway, she feels her heart skip a beat. 
“What are you doing out here?” the man asks her, a harsh bite to his tone. Y/n flinches, not ready to face yet another dickhead that might make her cry. 
“Um,” she sniffles, wiping away her tears and stuttering out in the most put-together voice she can muster, “A-a customer spilled their wine on me so I’m just, um, quickly cleaning up.”
He steps closer to her, now standing directly in front of her and looking down. He’s a head taller than her, his heeled boots giving him an extra inch that just adds to his intimidating demeanor. 
He had immediately recognized the waitressing uniform that she was wearing, and had been incredibly irritated at the thought of another one of his employees slacking off on such a busy night. But when he hears her shaky voice and sees her tear-stained cheeks… he lets a little bit of the sternness in his voice fade away, eyes softening just the slightest bit. Not too much (he couldn’t have one of his employees thinking he was a big softie…), but just enough so that he maybe wouldn’t make her feel worse than she already seemed to.
“Come with me,” he orders, brushing past her and trusting that she’d follow behind him. Knowing that this guy must be important, she doesn’t hesitate one bit, her head down as she trails after him like a lost puppy, trying to hide her puffy eyes and sniffly nose from the rest of the staff. He leads her into a room that she’s never been in, some sort of office with plaques hanging on the walls and a big, professional desk covered in paperwork. 
He pulls out a chair and gestures towards it. “Sit.”
She plops down obediently, and a soft smirk dimples his cheek.
“Good,” he says. “Now stay.” 
She nods.
With that, he steps out of his office and closes the door behind him. He hadn’t expected to be cooking at all tonight, but with the hurt little puppy sitting in his office, he really felt as though he had no choice!
“Evening Mr. Styles,” one of the chefs in the kitchen greets him, “Everything alright?” 
“Yes, thank you Teddy,” Harry responds pleasantly, Teddy being one of his first and favorite chefs to come work for him at Pleasing, “Can y’get one of the stove tops ready for me? Need to make something really quickly.” 
“Of course, sir,” Teddy wipes his hands dry, “I’m assuming Kevin won’t be coming back?” 
Harry shakes his head in confirmation, the furrow in his brow returning at the thought of the ignorant chef. He’d need to have a talk with Alfredo about the recent hires – his business was better than someone as careless as Kevin.
“Y’can take his station then,” Teddy offers. “S’still hot, pots all cleaned too.” 
Taking off his suit and rolling up the sleeves of his button down, he decides to make her a little bit of mac n cheese― a classic comfort food, right? Except, because he’s Harry Styles (aka one of the best chefs in the nation), he takes it to the next level. The pasta is fresh and handmade in their kitchen, parmesan grated from a gigantic sphere that was imported from France, with truffle oil and Italian basil to top it all off. He doesn’t even bother trying it; if he made it, then he knows it’s good. 
Plating the dish is second nature to him, easily displaying the pasta and putting decorative herbs and dollops of Béchamel sauce around the main meal. With a single fork in hand, he grabs the plate and takes it back to his office.
The waitress jumps up in her seat when Harry pushes the door open, startled by his entrance and generally just intimidated by his sharp jawline and gorgeous face. Her eyes widen at the sight of the food in his hand, glimmering with excitement that she fails to conceal. It’s cute, Harry admits to himself, the way she perks up like an excited little puppy at the sight of a gourmet meal. He puts the plate in front of her and sticks the fork in her hand. 
She looks up at him with wide eyes, and doesn’t make a move to start eating until Harry tells her to “try it,” as if she had been waiting for his permission to dig in. “Mm!” her eyes flutter shut as she chews the creamy pasta, “I didn’t even know we had this on the menu, it’s so good!” 
It actually wasn’t on the menu, but he wasn’t going to ruin her fun.
“Have you tried some of this? S’so yummy, you have to try some!” she tells him, sticking a forkful out for him to try. He wants to tell her that he already knows it’s good because he made it, but– just to humor her– he wraps his lips around the fork and eats it straight from her hand. He tries not to visibly show how pleased he is with the reaction he gets from her― her mouth falls slightly ajar and her eyes stare at his plump, pink lips as they pull off of the fork. 
“Mm,” Harry hums, a slight teasing lilt to his words, “oh yeah, that is really good.” He lets her praise the food a little bit more before casually asking, “I put a little truffle oil on there, could you tell?” 
She pauses mid-chew and asks slowly, “Y-you made this?” He nods smugly, a smirk plastered on his face. 
She had assumed a chef in the kitchen had just randomly put this together… not for this man to go out in his fancy clothes to make her a plate of the best mac n cheese she’s ever had. “Oh my gosh, I didn’t realize you were one of the chefs here,” she stutters out. “m’kind of new at the restaurant… the pasta was really good, I like the kind of earthy, garlic-y taste, is that the truffle oil― “
She’s cut off by a knock on the door and a concerned looking Grace stumbling in saying, “Y/n, are you in here― oh!” Grace’s eyes widen and her jaw drops a bit before she splutters, “Oh, I’m so sorry for interrupting Mr. Styles.” 
“What is it?” he asks, not so nicely.
Grace’s eyes flicker to y/n, “I― um, just brought an extra shirt for y/n, sir. Since her other uniform got ruined.” She places the shirt on the table right next to the door, “I’ll just leave it right here, excuse me sir.” 
With a nod, Harry gives Grace permission to leave the room and shut the door behind her, the blonde waitresses scurrying out of the room as quickly as she can. When his head turns back to y/n, her eyes are wide and surprised. 
This was Mr. Styles? As in, the world famous, Michelin star chef? As in the owner of this multi-million dollar restaurant? As in her literal boss? 
She was just casually sitting here, eating a plate of gourmet mac-n-cheese with a guy who just so happened to be her boss, when she was supposed to be out there working? 
Her demeanor immediately changes, and Harry can see that y/n is finally connecting all the dots in her head. That smug smirk of his spreads on his lips once more, an amused dimple in his cheek as he props his chin in his hand and watches the way y/n puts the fork down and sits up straighter. 
“Um― thank you for the meal Mr. Styles,” she stammers, slowly rising from her seat, “I suppose I should get back to work now…”
“Nonsense,” he says. She sits back down immediately. “You’ll stay here and finish your food. Someone else will cover your tables for you.” 
“Yes sir,” she squeaks politely. Harry’s beyond amused by how she suddenly turned into this polite little girl as soon as she realized who he was, and thinks he could get used to the words sir and Mr. Styles falling from her heart shaped lips. 
He asks her a bunch of questions while she’s eating, and y/n briefly worries if that’s his way of trying to decide if he should fire her or not. She’s really trying to be on her best behavior, using her most polite voice and etiquette when talking to him ― but things are kind of slipping because Harry’s eyes are flickering all over her face and he’s so put together and intimidating and hot and it’s making her nervous!!! She’s stumbling over her words and forgetting the answers to simple questions because she’s so distracted by his sharp jawline, and honestly… Harry loves it.  He loves how shy and polite she is, and loves seeing the way he can get her all flustered. That’s honestly the only reason he keeps interrogating her ― just to hear her cute little yes sir and no sir and to see how she nervously bites her lips between each question. 
When she’s finished with her food and the redness of her eyes has died down, Harry cleans up her plate for her and throws her the shirt that Grace had brought. “Take the rest of the night off,” he says, opening his office door to step out and give her a bit of privacy so she can change. “Next time I won’t be so easy on you, okay?”
She stands up, alert and still buzzing with nerves and peeps out a final “Yes sir!” before Harry closes the door, shaking his head with a small chuckle.
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Grace really wasn’t kidding when she warned y/n about how busy Pleasing could get when Chef Styles was cooking. 
From the moment she arrived to the moment the very last table finished dining, y/n was on her feet. She’d barely managed to put her stuff down in the staff room before Alfredo was pushing her out into the dining hall, muttering something about “Chef Styles” and “is going to kill me.” They had back to back reservations, a waitlist with nearly a three hour delay, and a bustling kitchen packed with chefs. The waiters were buzzing between tables like little bees, constantly checking on customers and rushing to the back counter to pick up meals and deliver them to tables. Laughter and conversation rang throughout the entire restaurant, echoing on the high ceilings and glass chandeliers, chaotically harmonizing with the sizzling of vegetables and clatter of pots that came from the kitchen. 
Mr. Styles worked gracefully despite all the chaos ensuing around him. He always made sure that everyone knew what they were supposed to be doing before any customers arrived to ensure that there would be no screw ups or accidents, and nobody dared stray away from the job Chef Styles assigned them. Dressed in his white chef’s suit with the sleeves pushed up his forearms, he prepped each meal in the blink of an eye and moved on to the next dish immediately – quick, efficient, and absolutely delicious. 
By the end of the night, his feet are pounding from standing up for seven hours straight and his fingers (which are normally quite nimble and flexible) feel stiff and just about ready to fall off. He supervises the staff as they close the restaurant for the night, helping them do the dishes and wrap cutlery in preparation for opening tomorrow, and waits in his office until he’s the last one in the restaurant. Sometime between the time the last customer left and the time that he’s about to leave the restaurant it starts to rain outside. So, before shutting off the lights, he grabs an umbrella, and finally leaves his office at about 2:30 in the morning. 
The sound of his boots clicking against the polished tile floor is all that can be heard as he walks through the foyer, his head down as he types out a message on his phone – that is, until he hears a tiny, kitten-like sneeze.
He stops in his tracks, looking up, and stares hard into the darkness. He takes a few, cautious steps closer towards the door, until he can make out a faint silhouette.  It’s y/n – bundled up in a cute little hoodie with what he presumes is her university’s logo embroidered on the front, and her bag clutched tightly to her chest.
“Y/n,” he calls out. “What are you still doing here?” 
She jumps at the sound of his voice, her shoulders tense as she timidly walks out of the corner she’d seemingly been hiding in. “Oh, I’m just waiting for the rain to lighten up a little bit before I walk home, Mr. Styles. Promise I’ll leave soon!” 
His eyes nearly pop out of his head – walk home? At this time of night? He strides over to where she’s standing, “Have y’not got a car? Or a metro pass, at least?”
“No, no car…” she explains with a small frown on her face, “N’the metro near my school doesn’t come up towards downtown. S’too fancy around here for a sketchy little metro.”
He looks down at the way she’s hugging herself tightly, her hands tucked into the sleeves of her sweatshirt in an effort to keep warm. She’ll freeze to death if she tries to walk home, he thinks to himself. Even wrapped in his expensive Burberry coat, the thought of walking in that rainy weather sends a chill down his spine. 
He sighs. “Come on,” he says, “M’not letting you walk home in the rain.”
He opens the restaurant doors and sticks his umbrella out first, opening it and stepping under seamlessly so that not even a drop of rain stains his suit. She blinks at him dumbfounded. Still holding the door, he gestures for y/n to follow him, “Come on pup, haven’t got all day.” 
She scurries under the umbrella with him, standing close as he locks the door behind them. The rain is pounding down hard and his umbrella isn’t very large, so he wraps an arm around her waist and hastily guides her to his car. 
Now, y/n’s no expert on cars, but the large, black range rover that her boss unlocks the doors to seems like a pretty fancy car! She struggles to climb into the passengers side when Mr. Styles opens the door for her, so he holds a hand out to help her up into the seat and shuts the door behind her. As she buckles herself in, he quickly runs over to the driver’s seat, shaking his umbrella off outside and carelessly throwing it in the backseats. 
He notices that y/n’s arms are still wrapped around herself super tightly, trying to hide that her whole body is shivering from the cold, so as soon as he turns the car on, he leans over to her side and turns the heat up for her. That – along with the press of a few more buttons on the center console that turns on the heated seating – has y/n sighing blissfully as she sinks back into the comfy leather seats.
“Thank you so much Mr. Styles,” she says, wiggling her fingers happily in front of the blasting hot air. 
“You would’ve frozen to death if you walked home in this weather,” he grumbles, pulling out his phone and handing it to her. “Put in y’address.”
She does as he says obediently, her numb fingers making her fumble a little bit when she tries to type on his phone – the latest iphone, she notices from the extra two cameras on the back. 
He glances briefly at the location she’s typed in, before flicking on his windshield wipers and reversing out of his reserved parking spot. 
His speakers automatically started playing some soft classical music, creating a gentle atmosphere in the otherwise silent car. As he’s driving, he can see her fidgeting around nervously in her seat. Her fingers twist anxiously in her lap, the inside of her cheek being assaulted by her nervous chewing, and she keeps looking over at Harry, burning holes in the side of his head.
“Have I got something on my face?” he asks abruptly. 
“W-what?” 
“Y’keep staring,” he explains, glancing over at her when they stop at a red light. To no surprise, he catches her… staring at him. She quickly turns away, opting to stare at her hands instead. 
“Sorry,” she says, “I was just… watching you drive.”
He snorts. “Watching me drive?”
She fumbles over her words, struggling to explain herself. “Yeah, you’re just– like you… you just drive really cool.” She only realizes how stupid she sounds once the words come out of her mouth. 
“I drive cool?” 
She grimaces and turns to him slowly, “M’sorry, that probably doesn’t make any sense.”
His expression is entirely amused, a smirk on his face that he’s trying to cover with his hand. “Please, explain it to me then,” he begs with a teasing tone. 
“You’re just like, driving with one hand on the wheel and listening to this fancy music in your fancy car… it just looks like you’re from a movie or something.” Not to mention how sharp his jawline looked from the side. Or how attractive the furrow in his brow was. Or how his white dress shirt was rolled up at the sleeves to reveal his strong, tattooed forearms. But she wasn’t about to say all that to him. She needs to stop talking before she embarrasses herself any further! “It’s stupid, I’m sorry. I’ll stop staring.”
“Didn’t say I minded it,” he says simply. With a teasing smirk still planted on his face, he pulls up in front of y/n’s apartment complex. Despite the fact that it’s pouring outside, Harry still offers to walk her up to her door.
“Oh no, I couldn’t make you do that!” He’d already gone out of his way to drive her home, she thinks making him get out of his car just to walk her up would be asking way too much of her boss.
“At least take the umbrella then,” he says, grabbing it from the back and giving it to her. She opens her mouth to protest, but he gives her this look that makes her just shut up and take it. 
“Thanks, Mr. Styles. I really appreciate it.” 
He rolls his eyes, “Just don’t forget it next time it’s scheduled to rain.” 
He watches as she opens the apartment door, and only pulls away after she’s turned back, waved at him, and closes the door behind her. 
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When y/n walks to the restaurant the next day, it’s raining once again. She takes Mr. Styles’ umbrella with her to shield her from the drizzle, and arrives at the restaurant a bit breathless, but nonetheless dry. 
As she’s clocking in, Harry happens to walk past. He sees his umbrella in her hand, droplets dripping onto the floor, and smiles to himself. 
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Harry’s grown some sort of… fondness towards y/n. 
How could he not? The first time he’d met her she’d been crying, looking up at him with her puppy dog eyes and tear stained cheeks. She’d complimented his cooking, and been all sweet and polite while he talked to her, calling him sir and Mr. Styles with her pouty lips. 
And then when he’d driven her home… she looked so pretty sitting in the front seat of his car, rambling on and on about his cool driving and fancy car. It made him soft! She was young and innocent and just the cutest little thing. He loves how flustered she gets when he teases her, how she fumbles over her words when she doesn’t know what to say. So you really can’t blame him for keeping his eye on her. 
Whenever he’s in his office, he’ll keep his ears open in hopes of hearing her pretty voice ringing through the halls, escorting guests or calling out orders to the chefs. He loves listening to her chat with the cooks, and finds himself laughing silently at some of her silly remarks. (“Guys help!!! Where are the oysters from? Like are they local? I know it’s a stupid question but one of the customers wants to know! Should I lie and say they’re imported from the Caribbean? Like… how would they know that I’m lying? Okay, fine whatever I’ll just say they’re caught locally every morning! Thanks bye!!!”)
With this newfound fondness, he’s also grown quite… protective of her. He often talks with Alfredo to see if y/n’s been getting along with the other waiters, and discretely checks that she hasn’t encountered any other rude or disrespectful customers. He figures that he’d prefer to kick some snobby lady out of his restaurant rather than see y/n all teary eyed again.
These smushy feelings are all new to Harry, and he doesn’t really know what they meant just yet… all he knows is that he had a soft spot for y/n. And he’ll be damned if he didn’t show a bit of favoritism towards her. 
Sitting in his office, working on some paperwork for the building, he hears her shuffling down towards the kitchen. (Yes, with how attentive he’s been recently, he’s learned to distinguish the sounds of her footsteps from the rest of the waiters.)
“‘Scuse me Edgar!” she calls out to one of the cooks, “Y’know the cod that you’re working on for table 67? She just asked for the romesco to be put on the side instead. D’ya think you could change that real quick?”
“Man, are you kidding me y/n! I already put it on there!”
“I know, I know I’m sorry!” she whines embarrassedly, cheeks heating at the bite in Edgar’s voice, “she just stopped me right now and asked for it!”
Edgar gives y/n an exasperated sigh, “Great, m’gonna have to make a new one! And we’re so fuckin’ busy tonight, this is fuckin’ brilliant–” 
“Hey!” Harry’s assertive voice booms through the kitchen, cutting Edgar off mid-rant. “S’not her fault that the lady changed her order, is it?” His stern gaze is burning on Edgar, making his cheeks turn red. 
“No sir,” the chef responds apologetically.
“Apologize to y/n.”
Edgar turns to her, “Sorry y/n. Wasn’t your fault, m’just being hot headed for no reason.”
“S’okay, I get it. It’s frustrating,” she says softly, shocked at the fact that Mr. Styles was making one of the chefs apologize to her! She’s just a silly little waitress! She was used to being belittled by the older, more established staff.
“Good. Don’t want t’hear any complaining from anyone, or else you’re getting fired. Understood?”
A chorus of “yes sir” echoes around the kitchen. 
Y/n stands there, speechless at the fact that Mr. Styles had made such a bold move to defend her. When he catches her staring, he simply winks, giving her that cocky smirk of his and turning on his heel, back into his office as if nothing had happened. 
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During her 15 minute break, y/n tiptoes to Mr. Styles’ office and quietly knocks at the door, entering cautiously when she hears him grunt out a less than welcoming “come in.”
“Um, Mr. Styles?” she announces nervously. The furrow in his brow immediately disappears when he recognizes that it’s y/n. “I-I just wanted to say thanks for, um, sticking up for me today? Or- I mean… just thanks for getting the chefs to go easier on me, I guess.” Her fingers twist nervously behind her back, and it’s taking everything in her to look Mr. Styles in the eye when she’s talking to him. His gaze is just so intense, and she has no idea what he’s thinking… it makes her nervous! 
He’s quiet for a second, deliberating what she’s just said, before cracking a smile and shaking his head. “You don’t have t’thank me, pet. M’not gonna let the chefs be dicks to m’favorite waitress.”  
Her heart jumps out of her chest at that, cheeks flushing in a way that she really hopes Mr. Styles can’t see. With this flattery, she can’t help but drop her gaze to her feet, contemplating the floor as she mumbles out, “I– well, still. Thanks.” 
Harry laughs to himself, dragging a hand down his face. She’s so… cute when she’s all flustered like this! It makes him want to tease her all the time. “Yeah, yeah,” he brushes it off playfully, “now get back t’work.” 
She twirls on her heels, ready to run out of the room and freak out about this encounter in the privacy of the employee bathroom.
“Oh, y/n?” Harry calls out just before she walks out the door. She looks back at him with those eager puppy eyes. “M’gonna drive you home tonight as well. Come to my office when you’ve finished your shift and we’ll leave together.”
The smile that lights up her face is one of a giddy school girl with a playground crush. 
“M’kay,” she says casually. But on the inside, she is Freaking. The Fuck. Out.
Yay!!!!
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This time, once the restaurant closes and all the employees and staff have left, y/n doesn’t head out into the darkness for her usual 30 minute walk home.
No, this time she heads towards Mr. Styles’ office, clutching her trusty tote bag to her chest to try and mute the feeling of the butterflies swarming her entire body. She has no idea why Mr. Styles might’ve offered her another ride home. Perhaps he felt bad that she’d been scolded in front of the kitchen today by Edgar, or maybe he just pitied her. 
Whatever the case was, she wasn’t going to question it too much. She’d developed an itty bitty crush on Mr. Styles, so even if he was just giving her a ride home because he felt bad… well, then at least it meant she got to spend some more time with him! 
She knocks on his door and waits for his muffled “come in” before she walks in. A pair of reading glasses are perched on the tip of his nose, reflecting the light of the laptop screen he’s staring at intently. He doesn’t look away from his laptop as he says, “m’almost done.” He gestures mindlessly at the seats in front of his desk when she hovers awkwardly in front of the door. “Sit.”
Her quiet obedience makes him smile as he finishes the last of the emails he wanted to send that night, and with a final press of a button he shuts his laptop. He takes the reading glasses off and stands up, and y/n tries to stare discreetly at his thighs (which are being hugged deliciously by his slacks) as he packs up his things.
She’s not as discreet as she thinks she is, because Harry has to call her name three times before she snaps out of her daydreams. “Where’s your head at, puppy?” he taunts, a knowing smile pulling at his lips. Her cheeks turn warm, and she’s thankful that she doesn’t have to explain herself as she follows him to his car. 
This was gonna be a long ride.
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Y/n doesn’t know how it happened, but she and Mr. Styles have created some sort of arrangement. 
Anytime he’s been in the office for the past two weeks, he’s given her a ride home. She’s tried to tell him that he really doesn’t have to and that the walk home really isn’t that bad (she feels bad for making him drive all the way to her apartment!), but for some reason, he insists!
Secretly, she’s really happy that he’s always offering to drive her home. She gets to spend an extra 15 minutes with him every night, talking to him, looking at him, and getting teased by him. Yes, he has a knack for embarrassing her… but in a way, she actually kind of enjoys it. 
Like all the other nights, she meets him in his office and they walk out together. He holds all the doors open for her, his hand lightly placed on the small of her back as they walk outside. And again, like all the other nights, he opens the passenger’s side door for her and holds a hand out to help her into his car. 
There is one thing that happens differently tonight though. When Harry gets behind the wheel, her stomach lets out the loudest grumble she’s ever heard. 
She shuts her eyes in embarrassment. Of course this would happen. She can only hope that Mr. Styles didn’t hear it.
Unfortunately for her, he chuckles softly, “Are you hungry?”
“A bit,” she replies sheepishly.
“When’s the last time you ate?”
She hesitates, “Um… I had a granola bar right before my physics lecture.”
He pauses. “And when was this lecture?”
“At 1.”
“So you’re telling me,” Harry glances at the time in disbelief, which reads 10:47 PM, “That you haven’t eaten since 1 in the afternoon?”
“Well… I mean, usually I have some food before coming to work! But I went to a study session after class and I lost track of time, so I didn’t have time to eat anything.”
“Tha’s not enough, puppy. You need to bring something to eat during your break or else you’ll pass out.” He puts his hand on the back of her seat and looks behind him to back out of his parking spot. “And, if you don’t have time to eat anything, then I’ll cook something for you.”
“You don’t have to do that Mr. Styles,” she politely refuses. “M’not even that hungry right now.” 
The growl her stomach lets out says otherwise. “Not hungry?” he taunts.
“Okay, maybe a little bit… m’too tired to cook anything though so I’ll probably just have a pop tart or something and call it a night.”
He scoffs, “a pop tart?”
“Yeah, you know those little pastry things? They usually come in that foil packaging and have–”
“I know what a pop-tart is.” A bunch of processed sugars and artificial jam stuffed in a horribly dry crust that spills crumbs everywhere? The thought of eating one absolutely repulses him. “They’re disgusting.”
“Hey, they’re not that bad!” y/n whines defensively. “M’on a student budget! And I’m not that good at cooking, not all of us are gourmet chefs like you.”
He thinks for a second then says, “Well then…how about I take you to mine and cook you a gourmet dinner?”
“What– like, right now?” she bleats. When he nods, she asks, “you would cook me dinner right now?”
“Why s’that so hard to believe?”
Well, first of all he’s her hot boss who is notoriously known for being a hot asshole. Second of all, she has a stupid crush on her hot boss, and can’t actually believe that he’d invite her over to his home. And third of all, and the one she settles for, “Isn’t it a bit late?”
He looks over at her. “Is it past your bedtime?” he asks playfully. She shakes her head no bashfully, face heating at his teasing as he continues, “If it’s not late for you, then it’s not late for me.” 
She sits there and thinks. Obviously she wants to go over to his apartment and spend more time with him! But… gosh, she feels bad! Making him not only drive her home, but also cook her dinner was just asking for too much!
“Y/n,” he interrupts, as if he could read her mind, “stop overthinking it. I want to cook for you, I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t. Will y’let me?”
“I’d really like that,” she admits shyly.
He smiles at her, “My house it is, then.”
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Mr. Styles is rich. Like… super rich. 
His luxury car was only a preview to his luxurious lifestyle. He drives them not far from the restaurant, to a tall, shiny building. He parks his car in the garage and takes y/n through the lobby, his heeled boots clicking against the shiny tiled floors. An elevator takes them up to the 16th floor, and opens to a dark penthouse. Floor to ceiling windows provide a view of the city, the lights of downtown flashing up in a kaleidoscope of colors. The floors are wooden with a cool undertone that complimented the grey walls, and the furniture is all sleek and dark. He leads them to his luxury kitchen and tells her to sit at the highchairs in front of the island.
“What shall I make you?” he asks.
“Um… a grilled cheese?”
He quirks his eyebrow. “You’ve got one of the world’s best chefs in front of you, and you want me to make you a grilled cheese?”
She shrugs, “That’s what I would’ve made myself if I wasn’t so lazy.”
“How about I surprise you with something… a little more special.”
“I feel bad making you cook this late when you’re not even supposed to be working,” she admits as Harry ruffles through his fridge.
“Darling,” he scoffs, “making you a meal is nothing for me. I could do this in my sleep.”
“I dunno, cooking is always such a hassle for me. Y’gotta get all the ingredients right, and make sure nothing burns, and then all the dishes… s’too much work.”
“But finding all the right ingredients and watching over y’food is exactly why I love cooking,” he explains passionately. “S’like… even the slightest thing could change the flavor of your dish, and take it to the next level. It’s so much fun.” He pulls out a pot and fills it with water. “The dishes are a headache though,” he adds teasingly. 
As he waits for the water to boil, he goes to his wine cooler and pulls a bottle out. “Do you like this wine? It’s Chianti 1982, from Montespertoli.”
“Um…” she looks at him helplessly. “I don’t really know much about wine.”
He hums, and pours himself a glass. Then he sits on the stool next to hers. He hooks his foot into the leg of her chair and pulls her stool to him, close enough so that their knees were touching and that she could see the stubble right above his lips. 
He holds up the wine glass as if he were offering a sip, but as soon as her hands come up to steady the glass to her lips, he pulls it away. “Ah ah,” he tuts, “You’ve gotta smell it first.” 
He swirls the wine around under her nose. “What do you smell?” he murmurs.
She takes a deep breath and contemplates it deeply. “...grapes?”
He snickers, “nice try.” He pulls the wine under his own nose and says, “It smells fruity… notes of cherry… plum… oak…” He takes a sip of it. “Mm… it’s light. Smooth.” 
Y/n watches him with wide eyes as he swirls the wine around in the glass and brings it up to his mouth, hyper fixating on his lips. His thick fingers, decorated with a multitude of sparkly rings, delicately wrap around the stem of the glass. And his lips, plump and pink, pucker softly against the rim as he takes another sip. 
His wine-stained tongue peaks out to lick his lips, and her own lips part open with want. 
He takes another enticing sip. “You want some, puppy?” he asks.
She nods her head, looking up at him with her round eyes and parted mouth. He gives her a taste, opting to hold the glass up to her lips as she drinks instead of having her take it from his hands and do it herself. When he feels that she’s had enough, he pulls it away. “What do y’think?”
“S’good,” she says, the tart taste of the wine drying out her tongue. It makes her want more. She looks at Harry with her eager eyes, and he feeds her another sip. This time though, she’s a bit too excited. When he pulls the glass away from her, a little bit of it dribbles down her chin.
He tsks. “Messy girl,” he murmurs. His thumb comes up to swipe at the mess, collecting it and teasing at her bottom lip. He lingers there for a second, before he pushes in, her supple lips parting easily as he slides his finger into her mouth. It rests heavily on her tongue, the acidic flavor of the wine lingering on his finger. She sucks, and his eyes darken. 
“Good girl.” His voice is low and gruff, eyes focused on her lips wrapped around his thumb. He pulls it out slowly, her bottom lip tugging downwards as he does it, and he watches it bounce back into place. 
He drags his eyes away from her lips and back up to her eyes, which are looking at him, wide and curious. Unlike Harry, who can’t stop his eyes from flickering down to her lips, her eyes are glued on him, frozen and waiting for his next move. When he moves the slightest bit closer, her breath catches in her throat. She’s not well versed in all this stuff, but she supposes if he keeps looking at her lips and leaning in, that probably means he wants to kiss her, right? She inches forward to test her theory. He reciprocates. Both of their eyes flutter shut. 
His nose brushes against hers ever so lightly, nudging it to the side, and she lets out a shaky breath when his lips graze hers. With one final tilt of her head, their lips slot together, as if they were two opposite charges connected by a magnetic force. He encases her lips in a soft kiss, her supple bottom lip trapped between his for a second, and his hand comes up to cup her jaw. He doesn’t do anything more than gently kiss her lips – no hot tongue in her mouth, no heavy breathing, nothing that he thinks might overwhelm her. Just a simple kiss, that he pulls away with a soft click.
Her eyelashes flutter open to reveal her moony eyes, looking up at him like an eager puppy. They flicker between his eyes with a mixture of want, confusion, and excitement hidden in her irises. 
He grins down at her. “Let me go check on the water.”
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Part 2 is already up on my patreon!!!! PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT U THINK!!!! LOVE U GUYS 
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narrycherries · 1 year
Text
✰ baby honey ✰ #1 (dom!harry)
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Harry’s favorite thing to do is to take care of you and give you as many orgasms as you can take, even if you’re being a brat.. dom!Harry concepts
a/n: this pairing does not have a set/strict plot, but there will be many different situations/writings for them! Lots of smut! ;) some may carry over multiple parts!
masterlist / part 2 — join the tag list!
word count: 5.3k
warnings/tags: dom!harry, daddy kink, praise kink, soft-sub reader, oral f receiving, Harry x reader, smut, mature situations, punishment, mean!dom, some fluff :) pet names
Your mind was dizzy as you slowly walked down the grand staircase while sliding your hand down the cool railing. Soft hums were coming from your throat, and your stomach was filled with butterflies. Carefully, you stepped your sock clad feet on the hardwood floor and turned to go in the direction of the office. There wasn’t a worry in your mind or a slight bit of fear in your chest as you made your way to the big wooden door.
You run your fingertips over the cold knob before turning it and pushing the heavy door open. The room that was just filled with mixed voices becomes silent. Your eyes were cloudy, but they immediately focused on the thing you were looking for. A smile spread over your pink lips as you locked your sight on his pretty emerald eyes. Harry was so beautiful, so perfect.
He sighed heavily as he gave you a hard stare. It made your stomach churn, but you ignored it. You wanted him - needed to feel his touch and hear his voice. Before you could even get two feet inside the room, he was standing from the big wood desk and walking towards you. He wasn’t paying the three men sitting in the chairs any mind, you were his main focus. Per usual.
His big, heavy hands landed on your waist and he guided you out of the room and away from the door. He moved you against the wall and immediately grabbed your chin.
“What have I told you about interrupting my meetings?” His voice was low and deep.
“I-“
“Shut up.” He snapped, his grip on your chin got tighter. “You’re acting bad. You know I don’t like it when you’re bad.”
“I need you.” You whined softly, hands fisting into his white button down.
“You’re gonna wrinkle my fuckin’ shirt.” He said through gritted teeth as he ripped your hands away.
“No, please! Just wanna touch you!” Tears were building in your eyes as you saw the anger come over his face.
“You were told to stay in the bedroom. You’ve disobeyed me.” Harry put his hand on your throat, but he didn’t squeeze you. He was gentle, for now. “You’re being a bad kitten.. and bad kittens get punished.”
You began to shake your head from side to side, tears streaming down your face. You coiled your hand around his wrist and dug your nails deep in his skin. Upsetting him was always your biggest fear. It was your intention to always be good for him, always be on your best behavior. Despite not doing anything wrong, you feel horrible.
“You’re gonna get my hand on your ass, and my cock’s gonna destroy that little hole of yours, missy.” He was harsh and cold, and that made things worse for you. “Not gonna let you cum. Gonna make those spanks hurt and you cry those pretty eyes out. I’ll make sure you remember the rules.”
“Not tryna be a b-bad kitten!” You cried out, eyes burning holes through his. “I need you, Daddy, need to touch you, please.”
As soon as he heard the word come out of your mouth he softened completely. His hand slid to the small of your back and the other gently covered your warm cheek. His thumb messed with the corner of your mouth as you spoke in broken sobs.
“M’not.. not a bad girl.. promise I.. I just needed.. needed something.. Da-daddy.. I.. I can’t stop it.. y’know I can’t..”
He felt terrible for treating you so bad, his heart was aching as he watched all the tears fall. “Hey, shh. Kitten, calm down.”
Despite his efforts, you were still breaking down. Worry filled your mind as you thought about all the consequences. You were so afraid that you were doing something wrong, that you had upset him. It was making you feel nauseous and like you were running out of air.
“Feel so-so little, Daddy.. wanna be.. be safe with you.. s’all.. just wanna see you..”
He shushed you again, and this time let his thumb cover your lips to stop you from rambling. “Relax for me, angel baby.”
You nodded softly and carefully placed your hands on his torso. His defined muscles felt comforting, even through the fabric of his shirt. You didn’t care about wrinkling it, so you closed your hands into fists again - holding as tight as you could.
“Now.. shhh..” he softly pecked your forehead before leaning back to look into your puffy eyes. “Tell Daddy what you need.. so I can help my girl.”
Your lips quivered as you tried to say something, but no words were coming out. He noticed the struggle and the pout on your lips. His hand moved down to your hip and he tilted your head further back to get a good look at you.
“Tell me, kitten, tell Daddy what’s got you all soft.” He made sure to give you a gentle smile. He knew you appreciated it when he was kind and caring, especially during these times. “Why’s my girl feeling little?”
Answering him was your intention, but you said the wrong words. You replied with what was on your mind, what was worrying you so much.
“I’m a bad girl.. I.. I didn’t listen to Daddy.. m’a bad kitty.”
“Tsk tsk, stop it, darling.” He gave you a stern lift of his brows. “You’re not a bad girl. Daddy isn’t mad, sugar plum.”
“But you said.. said I was being bad.” You sucked in your bottom lip as you looked at him through your lashes. Your eyes were hardly opened, the crying wore you out.
“That was before I knew you were feeling little, my angel.” He swiped your hair away from your face and held onto the back of your neck. “You’re Daddy’s good girl.. such a sweet kitten.”
“M’sorry I.. came in the office.” The words you whispered were barely audible.
He sighed and moved his hand down to your waist. “Daddy’s the one who should be saying sorry. I saw how happy you were to see me, kitten, how big your pretty lips smiled.. and I was so mean to you, wasn’t I? Didn’t give my girl any loves.. that’s all my baby wanted, yeah? Wanted Daddy’s attention for a minute.”
You nod lightly, arms snaking around him. He pulled you into his chest and you gladly hid your face in his shirt. He petted the back of your head, running his fingers through your long hair. His comforting words made you feel relieved and relaxed. He wasn’t mad at you anymore, and he just misunderstood the situation. Being in his arms made you feel safe and secure.
“Do y’wanna sit in the office with me, baby love? Daddy can pull up a chair for you.”
You sucked up the snot in your throat, the idea making you feel tingly. “Can I be by you, Daddy? Wanna be close.”
“Right beside me, my love. Just have to behave and be quiet for me, alright? Let Daddy finish his meeting and then I’ll make you feel better, baby.” He kissed the top of your head and squeezed you so tight.
You smiled against his shirt. “Wan’ loves and cuddles and kisses.”
He let out a soft chuckle. “All the loves and cuddles and kisses you want, kitten. Whatever you want Daddy to do.. my girl, always so sweet for me.”
“Woke up from m’ nap.. felt really little.. felt soft and scared, Daddy.”
He grunted as he leaned back, hands gently moving you so he could see you properly. “M’sorry i wasn't there for you, baby girl.”
“Here now.. don’t wanna leave you.”
“You don’t have to, honey bun. Daddy’s right here.”
You splayed your hands on his back, feeling his muscles tense as he gently rocked you from side to side. His hands held your hips so tight, so safely.
“Need t’ feel full.. Daddy can you.. fill me after your meeting?”
“Does my girl wan’ her Daddy’s cock, hm? Wan’ Daddy to fill you up with his thick cum?”
The filthy words caused ripples down your spine. You whimpered at the thought of being full. It was too hard to try to speak, so you nodded once again for him.
He smirked gently and kissed your swollen lips. “Daddy will give you what you want soon, kitten. Give you all my cum.. make sure your pretty pussy is filled to the brim.. wanna watch it drip out of you, baby love. Gonna fill my girl up.. make her feel so good, yeah?”
“Wanna have it all, Daddy, please..” Your whisper made his crotch twitch.
“No more talking about it, sweetheart, don’t wanna get Daddy hard just yet.”
The thought made your eyes sparkle, and it didn’t go unnoticed. He smiled sweetly and kissed you for a long moment before finally grabbing your hand and leading you to the office.
When you walked in together, the three men turned their heads to watch Harry walk through the room. Nobody said anything at first, so he broke the ice himself.
“Sorry about that, gentlemen. My fiancé isn’t feeling the best.”
“S’alright. Understandable.” One of them replied with a fake smile.
Harry glanced around but realized that the only other available chair in the room was his big leather one. He sighed and gestured to the chair.
“Just sit there, honey. We’re almost finished anyways.”
You hesitated, but eventually sat down in the chair. Harry sat one leg on the edge of the desk, eyes on the men as he picked up wherever he left off. They weren’t bothered by her presence, but that didn’t mean you didn’t feel embarrassed. You were sure the tear streams were still evident and you could feel the warmth of her skin. You probably looked like a mess.
The business talk didn’t interest you at all. You kept your eyes on Harry’s shiny black shoes. The longer you looked at them, the more you noticed his trousers. They fit him well and hugged his thighs. The dark grey color matched the blazer that was draped over the back of the chair. He looked so professional and handsome. His hair was perfectly sculpted. Even the expensive watch on his wrist was in a perfect spot. You were still annoyed by the men being here. Normally, meetings took place at his real office, not at your home. Apparently things happen at times, that’s what he told you at least, and arrangements have to be made.
You were growing impatient with each minute. All you wanted was him, and you wanted him all to yourself. Having to share his attention with these men was driving you mad. You tapped your fingertips against the arm of the chair as you stared at the floor.
Before you even realized it, Harry got off the desk and escorted the men to the front entrance. He was only gone for a minute. When he came back through the door you jumped up from his chair and began to rock on your heels. He chuckled as he reached you and took hold of your waist.
“Thank you for being patient, baby.”
“You’re all mine now, right?” You batted your thick lashes at him and he gladly squeezed each side of your butt.
“All yours, kitten.”
He sat down in the chair and gently grabbed your wrist. He pulled you onto his lap, greedily holding your waist. You smiled as you wrapped an arm around his head and began to softly peck your lips along his hairline. He chuckled as he slipped both hands under your shirt.
“You seem upset, Daddy.. don’t like it when you’re upset.”
He grunted, hating that you noticed things so easily. “Just stress from business, baby love, s’all.”
“Do you want me to make it go away?” Your words made his crotch tingle.
“No, baby. S’all about you right now. You still want Daddy to make you full?”
“Yes, please.. wan’ you to fill me, Daddy.”
When you leaned back to look at him, your tongue came out and swiped over your lips. A smirk covered his mouth as he slid a hand into your leggings, groping your butt cheek.
“No panties?” He lifted a brow. “Someone’s being a little tease.”
You giggled softly and started kissing his forehead. “Just wanna make it easier.”
“Hm.. m’sure you do.” He patted your thigh, a silent indication for you to stand up.
You didn’t want to move away with him, but you knew you had to. You stood in front of him, waiting patiently for him to do something. He stood up, too, and walked around you. When you hear papers shuffling, you spin around and grab his elbow gently.
“Let me clear the desk, kitten.”
“Daddy..” you were curious as to why he was doing that. “Are you gonna take me on your desk?”
He chuckled a few times before looking over at you. “M’gonna put you on the desk so I can eat up your little pussy, baby doll. Daddy will take you to the bedroom after.”
You groaned and squeezed his elbow. “Wan’ you to take me here.”
He watched your other hand reach to tap the desk. He smirked and gave you a quick nod. “Alright.”
Harry made sure everything was pushed to the edges of the wood, and out of your way. He adjusted the monitor so it was also out of your way. The desk was big, so it was easy to make adjustments. When he dropped the final stack of papers into the bottom drawer, you smiled happily and grabbed his shirt where it was tucked in on the side.
“Patience, my baby.” He pulled away from you with a smile, but grabbed you instead. “Let Daddy take care of you, kitten.”
Out of nervousness, you popped your index finger into your mouth. You didn’t want to upset him, so you kept quiet as you waited. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your leggings on either hip and he yanked them down. He kneeled as he did so, making sure to get a good look at your womanhood.
“Mm, baby girl. Daddy missed you so much.” He pressed a kiss to your pubic mound, savoring the feeling of your soft, bare skin. “Can’t wait to have this pretty pussy all in my mouth.”
“Daddy.. please.. need you.” You whined while you curled your fingers in his scalp.
Harry gripped your thick hips and gave your butt a slap before standing up. You smirked softly, still shocked that he loved your body so much. It was something you struggled with - but he adored you, every inch and every pound. Your full ass and perky breasts, he could never get enough. It bothered you that your breasts weren’t big, but he loved them anyways. That’s all that really mattered.. that he loves you.
“Daddy.” You mumbled softly as he picked you up and sat you on the desk.
“What is it, angel?” He pressed his palm against your warm cheek, forcing your eyes to stay on his.
“Wan’ you so bad, please.”
“Honey, be a little patient. Daddy’s gonna give you everything you want.” He kissed you for a moment. “Now.. shh.”
He didn’t hesitate to drop down between your legs and push them apart. His tongue immediately swiped up your slit.
“Daddy.” You gasped as he did it over and over.
He made sure you were wet from his spit and your own natural release before he began to suck on your clit. He hallowed his cheeks, applying a hard pressure on your little nub.
“Wan’ a finger.” You muttered as you closed your eyes and held your breath.
Harry pulled away from your clit to spit on his finger. He watched your hole as he carefully wiggled his finger inside of you. Once he was sure you were comfortable, he began to move it in and out slowly. His tongue returned to your nub and he didn’t let up again. Normally he wouldn’t give you a finger until he’s made you orgasm, but he promised he’d do whatever you wanted. He doesn’t break his promises to you.
“More.” You mumbled while raking your fingers through his scalp. He liked it when you touched him, so you didn’t hesitate to tug at his roots. “M’gonna cum.”
He grunted against your clit, his tongue working in quick motions. You were so sensitive from being needy, so the orgasm rushed on you before you even realized. A heavy groan came from you as your thighs shook a little and your eyes fell back into your head.
Harry did his best to hold your hips down, but you were thrashing a tad as he kept sucking through the orgasm. You whined suddenly and pushed his head away. He let up, just to make sure you were okay.
“Kitten.. S’alright, baby.” He whispered as he stood up and took hold of your face.
When you opened your eyes you saw his, and a wave of comfort came over you. “Daddy.. felt so good.”
He chuckled softly, thumbs rubbing your lips. “Felt good, baby doll? Did Daddy make you cum?”
You smiled sweetly. “Came really hard for you.”
“Mhm, sure did, kitten.” He gave you a kiss and you couldn’t help but taste yourself on his mouth. “Got so wet for me.”
A gentle giggle fell from your lips. You wrapped your arms around his torso and pulled yourself forward. He dropped a hand to your waist to steady you, but made sure to keep a warm palm against your jaw.
“Feel better, baby love?” His voice was soft, it made you feel safe.
“Mhm.”
“Daddy loves to make you feel good, babe. Love to make my girl cum.. always tastes so good.. got such a sweet little cunt, don’t you?” You nodded. “All for you, Daddy.”
“Hm, I know.” He kissed you for a couple of seconds. “All mine.”
“Daddy..”
He furrowed his brows at the tone of your voice. You seemed sad all of a sudden and he didn’t like that.
“What’s the matter, baby?”
You shook your head, trying to ignore what you wanted to tell him. Of course he didn’t let that slide. He huffed and gave you that look.
“Tell me, sugar plum.”
“Just..” You paused, feeling suddenly nauseous.
He didn’t rush you into talking, he knew sometimes it took you a few minutes to gain some courage. Your eyes fell from his and you stared at the undone top button of his shirt. You felt the need to touch him, so you began to undo the rest of the buttons. He watched you carefully, trying to figure out what was going on. Your fingertips skimmed his skin, making goosebumps rose on his.
“You don’t have to be afraid to tell me anything, y/n.”
When he said your name, you shot your eyes at him for just one second. He rarely said your name, only when he was serious or if he was introducing you to someone. You rarely heard him say it. That never bothered you that he didn’t say it, but it did grab your attention.
“M’just..” you sighed heavily. “.. I changed my mind.”
His brows dropped even further. “About what, darling?”
Finally, the shirt was opened in the front and you could see his body. You reached up and grabbed either side of the shirt, pulling it down his arms as best as you could. He took over and yanked the shirt off. He was about to drop it on the ground when you grabbed onto the expensive material. Harry let you take it, and he watched as you brought it to your chest to clutch it.
You locked your legs around his hips. “I.. want something different.”
“Don’t want me to fill you, baby?”
A grunt left your throat and you grabbed his elbows. “I do.”
“Then what do you want differently, angel?”
You didn’t answer him right away. Your hands moved to his chest and you took your time as you touched all over his front. He was warm and his muscles were hard - yet, his skin so soft.
“Baby girl, you have to tell me.” He wasn’t getting frustrated or anything, he was just very concerned.
“Daddy.. I..” You were still in a small mindset, and he knew that.
“Baby, listen to Daddy.” He moved your head up so your eyes were locked with his again. “Daddy wants to make you feel good.. and make you feel safe. You’re feeling little still, baby doll, and Daddy knows you need t’ feel safe.”
“Wan’ you, Daddy.” You mumbled gently.
His eyes were so soft and full of concern. “Then what’s the matter, my love?”
You finally huffed and caved in. “Don’t wan’ you to take me in here.. wanna be comfy.”
He smiled. “Want Daddy to take you in the bed, baby? Wanna be on the soft sheets?”
You nod a few times. “Please..”
“Anything you want, baby.”
You kept hold of his shirt as you hopped off the desk and grabbed his hand. He guided you out of the office and toward the staircase. You were quiet the whole way up, only because you were thinking about him. You wanted him so badly, wanted him to sink his length into you and never pull it out. You couldn’t wait to feel his weight on top of you, to experience the feeling of your nipples pressed against his skin as he took you nice and slow.
When you reached the bedroom, your heart started to race. He pulled your shirt off and unhooked your bra, then gestured for you to lie down.
“No.” You groaned as she sat on the foot of the bed. “Wanna touch you.”
“S’not about me, honey.” He chuckled as you grabbed his belt and undone it.
“Just wanna see you, then.” You shrugged, smiling as you pulled down his zipper.
The bulge was extremely visible, and that made your core tingle with excitement. Soon, his pants were pooled around his feet and he kicked them away. He smirked as he watched you stick your hand into his boxers and pull his member out.
“So big.” You whispered as his hard length stood proudly in front of you. “Wan’ it, Daddy, please.”
“You always get what you want, don’t you kitten?” He chuckled as you crawled up the bed and laid down on your back. “Want it this way, babe?”
Harry spread your legs opened and kneeled between them. You thought for a moment as he squeezed the backs of your knees. It was intriguing to think about another position, so you decided you might as well try something else. It wasn’t like he’d never do it that way again.
“Wanna turn over.” You smiled.
He made a weird face at you. “What? My kitten doesn’t want me this way? Her Daddy?”
You giggled at him as you pulled your legs free and turned over onto your stomach. You shoved your arms under your chest and arched your ass up. He gave you a playful smack before leaning over your back. His hands fell into the mattress, keeping his body flush with yours.
“Wanna feel you this way, Daddy. Promise m’still your kitten.” You didn’t want him to think your head had cleared up, because it hadn’t. “Please.”
“Okay, baby girl. Daddy’s gonna give you exactly what you want.”
He started by pressing open mouthed kisses across the top of your back. He swept your hair over one shoulder so he could have access to the side of your neck. He grunted as his teeth sunk into your soft skin.
“Please.. wanna feel you deep.” You muttered as you reached behind you and grabbed his forearm.
He chuckled. “Patience, kitten. Daddy likes to love on his baby, y’know that.”
“Daddy doesn’t bite me.. Harry bites me.”
You felt his smile press against your skin. “M’sorry.. just missed you, baby love.”
“Harry can have me later.. I want my Daddy now.”
The pout on your lips made him smirk. He kissed it as you turned your head to look at him. It made you giggle and the pout turned into a smile.
“Daddy’s girl.” His voice was like a rumble of thunder. “Always my good girl.”
A weighted moan fell from your lips as he rubbed spit onto your entrance and slowly pushed his tip in. He let his length go once it was secure, and pressed a hand to your hip. Harry leaned back down, his front brushing your back as he began to move.
“S’good, baby doll? Don’t let me hurt you.” He took a deep breath as he went in about half way, then pulled out to check on you.
“Good, Daddy.. gimme more, please.”
He smirked at your eagerness. “Daddy’s gonna give you his cock, baby, just how you want it.”
You sighed in relief as he pushed back in, his elbow falling into the mattress beside your shoulder to support his weight.
“Tell Daddy how you want it, sweetheart.” He moved his hand to your throat and you gladly wrapped yours around his wrist to keep it there.
“Want you deep.. hard and fast, Daddy.”
His tongue swiped over your shoulder. “Want Daddy’s cock deep in your tight pussy, my angel? Want Daddy to fill you?”
“Mhm.” You moaned with your lips shut, eyes doing the same as the pleasure rushed through you. “Please.”
He didn’t say anything else as he began to fully insert himself - balls deep in you. Your mixed groans and breathes were intimate and it made you feel good - made your chest warm. Each snap of his hips got harder than the previous.
“Uh, Daddy, more.”
He chuckled softly and picked up his pace, his weight pinning you to the mattress while he fucked his length deep inside of you. You could feel the thick veins that ran along the length of his cock rubbing against your walls. You clenched around him every now and then, pulling deep moans from his throat.
“Baby love, squeezing Daddy’s cock so good, hm? Wanna feel Daddy’s cum in your tummy, baby? Wan’ me to fill you up?”
“Yes, Daddy. Wan’ it all. Please give me your cum, Daddy.”
His eyes rolled back in pure pleasure as the filthy words filled his ears. He began to fuck you harder and quicker, the sloshing sounds of your wet pussy made his balls swell. He needed to put his seed in you, plant it deep in your body.
“Oh, baby girl, takin’ m’cock so fuckin’ good.” He groaned into your shoulder as he reached down to grasp your hips tight, fingers burning your skin from the pressure. “Such a tight little cunt.”
Your back arched into the mattress, your ass pushing up against his pelvis. He grunted as he gave your hip a hard smack. You whimpered at the sudden and unexpected pain. Daddy never hit you hard - he barely would oblige if you begged him to.
“Too hard.” You choked out, tears pricking your eyes. “Da-Daddy.. hit me too hard.”
He huffed at himself and started to rub and massage the area he unknowingly left a red hand print on. “Sorry, baby, m’sorry.” He attacked your neck with his lips, hoping the affection would make up for his mistake. “Didn’t mean to hit you, doll. Daddy got.. distracted, m’sorry.”
You nodded a little, your hand reaching back to wrap around his wrist. He was still rubbing deep circles into your bruised skin, wishing he could erase the pain.
“Can.. can I cum.. please? Daddy can I cum on your cock?” Drool was slipping down your chin as our mouth hung open - the pleasure causing you to become numb.
“You can, baby, cum for Daddy.. cum on my cock, baby love. Let Daddy feel your wet pussy spill on him.”
He’s pounding you hard and fast, carrying you closer to the edge as the seconds fly by. You were moaning his name and digging your nails into his wrist, your walls squeezing him so tight.
“C’mon, cum for me. So close, yeah? Daddy can feel that tight pussy, babe. So tight for me.”
His filthy words made your eyes roll back and your lips fell apart - a loud moan full of strings of his name filled the air. He groaned heavily, verbally encouraging you to cum hard. You did jsut that, your pussy suffocating his cock as it held on to it hard - milking him of his warm, thick cum.
“Baby, fuck, yes. Take Daddy’s cum in your tummy. Such a good thing you are. My baby.” He praised you as you kept gushing out your release. He slowed his motions, keeping his cock buried in your hole. “Takin’ Daddy so good.”
“So warm.. so full.” You uttered as the side of your face hit the pillow.
He gave you a chuckle as he softly pecked your cheek over and over. “Daddy’s pretty girl, yeah? Full of my cum. So, so full and warm.”
“Daddy.. so good.. feels so good.” Your eyes shut and you release a deep breath, tiredness washing over you.
Harry noticed your behavior, and he assumed he would tire you out anyways, so he kissed your temple and slowly pulled out of you. He moved onto his knees after nudging your legs apart. He grabbed your ass on either side and pulled your cheeks further apart, just playing with the thickness as he watched his cum drip out of your hole.
“You’re such a pretty thing.. so full of Daddy’s cum.” He squeezed each cheek before let them go, hands sliding down to your thighs. “Do you want to be cleaned up, baby?”
You shook your head. “No.. wan’ it in.”
He smirked to himself as he climbed over you to get off the bed. You didn’t have to worry or question about where he was going - he was getting a fresh pair of panties for you. As you laid there patiently, your stomach was full of butterflies. The sticky cum rolling out of your cunt covered your clit, making you shiver. You could still feel him inside of you, the fullness hadn’t disappeared yet.
“Alright, roll over, princess.”
You did as he asked and fell into your back. He smiled sweetly as your sleepy eyes looked his way. He saw your eyelids falling as you struggled to keep them open.
“Oh, baby.” He huffed as he slid the panties up your legs. He stopped before he covered your hips. “M’so, so sorry. Daddy didn’t mean to hit you.”
“S’okay.. feels okay now.” You mumbled back, reaching over to touch his wrist.
He let you take his hand for a moment and you squeezed it. “You should be mad at me.. should be, babe, but you’re such a sweetheart, yeah? My sweet baby doll.”
His lips smeared on yours for a long moment before he leaned up, dropping your hand to pull the panties up. Once he knew his cum was secured in place where you wanted it stay, he nudged you and rolled on to your side. He got behind you, arms snaking around your limp body to drag you closer. You hum, satisfied as you feel his now covered and softened cock against your butt. It didn’t matter if it was hard, you just liked to feel it there.
“Take a nap, m’love.” He kissed your ear softly, whispering his words carefully.
You nodded, pulling one of his hands up your body. You forced it to rest under your boob and he gave you a small chuckle.
“Cuddle bunny.” He uttered. “I love you.”
“I love you more.”
He smirked to himself. “I dunno about that, baby love.”
(Part 2..)
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whitemancumslut · 9 months
Note
the thought of stepdad!harry taking you on every surface in the house when your mom is away on a business/girls trip makes me 🫠🫠
JUST STRAIGHT FILTHY (18+)
SUMMARY: In which, (Y/n)‘s mother is off on a work trip for the weekend. Harry and Y/n take advantage on this time alone.
CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+, MINORS DNI, stepcest, unprotected sex, low-key filthy, shower sex, kitchen sex, bathroom sex, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink
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“Argh, fuck. Don’t stop, Daddy. Don’t stop, mmhnnnn,” Her moans were straight pornographic. Her bare tits are pressed to the marble counter as her step dad pounded into her cunt repeatedly. Her arousal coated his prick that slid in and out of her, swiftly. His hands strong on her hips as he thrusted in and out of her. Harry’s large cock fills her vagina, spreading her open.
It’s been a bit over a week since Harry’s been buried in his girl’s cunt making the stretch seem so unfamiliar for her. Harry missed her bad. He missed having her wrapped around him. Whether it being her lips, the walls over her cunt coating his prick or her hand, he missed her. Her mother was home more often this week alone. It sucked for them both because those sexual pleasure they can receive from one another is a blow or hand job. It wasn’t all bad, but they needed to feel it again.
When her mother revealed she was going to have to fly across the country for work, both tend to hide their excitement. Giving her looks of distress as she walked out the door and into the awaiting Uber to take her to the airport, before clothes were thrown and they had each other again.
Harry grunted as she clenched around him, his eyes rolling back a tad before they landed on the way her ass cheeks recoiled with his rhythm. Harrys view was obscene. The way her back flexed as she arched and pressed her face to the counter every now and then. The way she would claw at the table, digging her fingernails into her skin whenever he’d hit that spot that caused her to screamed and let out an insane mewl that could only be caused by Harry himself. “Being such a good kitten. Letting Daddy fuck your hole. Always so good f’me. Always such a good toy.” His tense thighs met hers, their skin slapped and the sound echoed through the walls. His right hand that laid on her hips found a new home in her hair that was flowing crazily on her back. He gripped her hair, she moaned as the strands were tugged, her hands once again, clawing at the counter.
“Ohhhh, yesyesyes! Fuck, Daddy… Always so good for you,” The moans of pleasured continued. “Your toy,” She told him as she gasped like she needed air. Because of Harry’s tight grip on her hair, her head stayed tilted up to the ceiling. At this point, her eyes were glossy and her mouth was slowly spilling salvia due to it being open for a spacious amounts of time.
Swatting her right ass cheek making her jut forward, the pain immediately turns to pleasure. Her body moves with his. She rocks back and forth as they are in a precise rhythm but Harry continues to test the waters and fucks her faster and faster. Fucking her directly in that g spot, she cries out the words, right there, right there.
Right now, Y/n couldn’t keep up with the man. He had let go of her hair, his hands going back to her hips as he thrusted into her, the bottom counters being banged by his knee.
The familiar burning coil she missed so badly soon returns. “G-gonna cum Daddy! I’m going to cum,” She warns her stepdad, making him speed up his thrust.
It wasn’t long until her orgasm slowed down over Harry’s prick, and they’re both groaning. Profanities are chanted like prayers as he slowly rolled his hips as she came.
Just as she came down, Harry turned her around, keeping her steady as he wobbly legs almost failed her. His lips met hers in a sloppy, hot kiss. Kissing her softly, his tongue found hers like his cock found her clit. She gasped to the sudden touch, her cunt throbbing and trembling at the pressure of Harry’s red mushroom tip gave her.
She pulled away from the sticky kiss, looking down at Harry rubbing his cock through her folds. Without a warning, Harry hiked her leg up by his waist and lined his dick with her entrance. Harry slides in swiftly.
A moan ripped from Y/n’s throat when she feels her cunt spread once again. “Oh Daddy,” She whined, gripping the edge of the counter. as she slaps his duck on her wet cunt
“Can’t get enough of your cunt, you know right? I love your pussy so much darling.” Harry’s lips wrapped around her pebbled nipples.
“I know you want to cum again, baby. Is that right? I can feel you clenching. Ye’ want to cum around Daddy’s cock again, hmm?”
She answered apace, “Y-yes, sir. I need it again, mhm.”
a/n: IM BACKK!! this took disgustingly long to get back sorry x
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lukesaprince · 1 year
Note
"aw, it hurts? too bad. you're gonna keep taking it until i’m satisfied." and "you can give me another one, can't you baby? for me, please?" with Harry, Sorry I’m just a greedy girl😫
Warnings: smut, p in v, domrry, punishment, overstimulation, daddy kink, choking, rough play
I wrote this in 30mins xoxo
send me a smut prompt from this list!
"Harry I can't... it's too... it's too much" you panted, writhing underneath him.
His fingers flexed against your neck, his other hand tightening on your hip as he drove into you hard from behind. You were stomach down on the bed, hips propped onto a pillow with his body straddling the back of your thighs with your legs wedged between them.
He had already relentlessly teased you, fucking himself between your thighs squeezed tight together, making sure he’d bump against your puffy clit every now and then as he used you for his pleasure.
You had been bratty all night, and while Harry was a patient man he had his limit. He knew it was because you wanted to be punished, but a cute little spanking wasn’t going to do the trick anymore, he knew you liked it too much and that it got you off.
So overstimulation it was. Your body was sensitive, and after only one orgasm your clit became unbearably sensitive unless you took a no contact break for minutes at a time.
So when Harry decided to fuck you hard, hit that spot inside you with so much force and so often while he made sure your clit ground against the pillow underneath you over and over again, you were dying.
It was all too much, too many sensations at once, too much pleasure, too much pain.
You wanted to be spanked, that’s all you wanted and Harry hadn’t hit your ass once. It was like he knew what your true intentions were before you even did. He had a way of reading you better than anyone else in the entire world.
“Aw it hurts?” He pouted, his tone teasing and feigning hurt even though he didn’t feel the slightest bit bad for what he was doing to you. “Too bad. You’re gonna keep taking it until I’m satisfied”
“Please” you whined, clutching the duvet in your hands as your body shook with every thrust.
“No, you wanted this remember. You acted like a brat so you could get punished” he leant down to murmur against your ear.
“No, no I just wanted to get spanked.. not this!” You shook your head hard, feeling him smirk against the side of your face at your admission. He knew it wouldn’t be too long before you told him the truth.
“Doesn’t Daddy always give you what you want? You wanted to be punished and that’s exactly what I’m doing, so what makes you think I wouldn’t spank you if you asked huh? Hurts my feelings that you don’t think I’d take care of you”
Your heart clenched at his reply, tears falling faster down your face at the thought of hurting him. You didn’t want that at all, you just wanted him to show you attention and mark you up a bit. You never wanted to hurt his feelings.
“‘M sorry Daddy! I didn’t mean it, didn’t mean to hurt your feelings” you cried out, feeling him kiss away the saltiness from your cheeks.
“It’s alright baby, but you gotta make up for it yeah? Wanna make Daddy feel better?” He cooed, already feeling your walls tightening around him in delicious pleasure.
“Yes, yes, yes” you chanted.
“Cum for me, can feel you’re close already” he nipped at your neck, working to create another mark close to the other ones he had already made.
Your body screamed at his request, knowing how much another orgasm would hurt. God it would feel good, if you hadn’t already came four times.
“I can’t, Daddy I can’t”
“You can give me another one, can’t you baby? For me, please? Would make Daddy so proud” he coaxed, kissing you gently to try and convince you. He knew you’d do it for him, all it took was a bit of praise and you would do anything he asked.
“I-it would? Would make you feel better?” You whimpered, the only thought in your head about making up for hurting your Daddy’s feelings. Harry only hummed a yes in reply, adjusting his grip on your neck so your head went even more dizzy than it currently was.
You couldn’t respond after that, the pleasure coursing through your veins making you tremble and shake underneath him. Your thighs tensed up when your body went over the edge, a borderline scream erupting from you at the flood of pain and pleasure that consumed you all at once.
Harry’s grip on your hips ground you deeper into the pillow to carry you through, his cock nudging against that spot inside you that was making you weep. Your chant of his name turned into pleads to stop as he kept touching you post orgasm, until finally he stopped moving together.
“Good girl my love, did so well” he praised, letting your neck go so your face could drop into the duvet beneath you. Harry kissed along your upper back, giving you your first moments of relief from his touch as he let you calm down.
It wasn’t too long before he pulled out of you and turned you onto your back, collecting your legs by the ankles in one hand and pressing them to your chest.
“Daddy what are you doing?” You asked confused, thinking that in your own high Harry also came and that you two could cuddle and go to sleep.
“Oh my sweet girl, did you think we were finished?” He tapped the tip of his hard cock against your clit in a motion that made your hips jerk.
“We’re far from over”
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chainmailchalamet · 10 months
Text
sugar high 🍒
synopsis: sugar daddy hs, always black n non-binary reader, established dynamic w/ some power play, possessive language, lil degradation, spit kink, mean dom(ish) hs, yktfv
Harry is…complex, by nature. He is a well curated structure of contradictions. He is a rockstar, an animal, a glossy beastly thing on stage. He glows under the spotlight, basking in all that concentrated attention with the air of a man who deserves every last drop. He is a hip roller, a tongue wagger, a dark eyed pretty boy dream. He’s sharp cut hips, tatted all over and wrapped up in glitter.
He is also a cream puff — that’s the version of him you met first, assisting a stylist on a Gucci suiting campaign. You’d steamed his double breasted coat, matched the ties to his green-glass eyes, buttoned him up all snug in his dress-shirt. And he’d blushed and dimpled his way through all of it. Told you that you didn’t have to do all that (“I kind of do, darling, it’s my job”), said please and thank you and stood where he was supposed to stand and made everyone laugh and look at him all fond because he was a professional sweetheart, an actual dream to work with. With the way he acted, you couldn’t tell he found you attractive until after the shoot wrapped and he walked up to you all bashful to ask for your number. It was the way he stated his intentions that got you, the way he said, soft and steady “anything you want, we can do anything you want as long as I can keep you company”.
He took you for squid ink pasta for the first date, because you’d never had it. He showed you how he liked his oysters (“a little lemon, just a squeeze..”) and how to tip them back into your mouth to taste them, and he watched the way your lips wrapped round the shell with a low heat gaze, kept his desire on the simmer like he didn’t want to scare him away. You let your inhibitions sink away into a glass of champagne, flirted with him in the same breath you talked his ear off about your job, about the books you were reading, about your vision for the future. He was so like you — the same raw ambition, the same comfort in the way you wore your skin that you’d both fought tooth and nail for, the same wicked tongue. You liked to make him blush, to tease him until he was giggling in faux offense (“it is not a whore house, it’s a family show, that’s the whole point!” “sir, at last show you sang the words “if you’re getting yourself wet for me”, and then rubbed your fingers together to demonstrate said wetness, those are the actions of a whore!”), until he let some of that babygirl cupcake act drop long enough to thumb some passion fruit sorbet from the corner of your lip and take it into his mouth, closing his eyes and groaning a little under his breath like you just tasted that good.
The second date was a flea market in the south of France. He prepared you with a simple instruction to pack light, and in response to your question about the cost of the train and accommodation and time off work he responded the same — kissed you on the temple and said “I’ll take care of all of it, you don’t have to worry about a thing, you can have anything you want, sweetheart”.
And then he did, took care of every detail — told your boss he was borrowing you for a shoot (“bring them back in one piece, styles, they’re one of our best” “mm, no promises”), got the both of you a private carriage so you could watch the grey London skyline fade away into lush fields of lavender, held your hand all the way, looked at you like you were the best view in sight, whisked you away to a cute little hostel where no one but the owners recognized him (the lady of the house absolutely fawned over him, called him strawberry boy, chided him for being gone for so long).
You used maybe two braincells that weekend — he made sure of that. Every whim, he tended to. If you wanted coffee, he went to the market and fetched you something freshly ground with notes of toffee and dark chocolate. If your stomach rumbled, he sat you down on the kitchen counter and fixed you lemon pasta, fed you dates by hand while the sauce settled, stole kisses in-between bites — cupped your face in his hands and licked into your mouth and said “feel so lucky, can’t believe your here, are you happy, what do you need, whatever you want, wanna give you everything…”.
You let him fuck you during that trip. After a dreamy morning picnicking with a jar of strawberry preserves and fresh bread and heavenly salted butter, and a whole day at the markets where he bought you a whole new wardrobe, gently insisting that he wanted to do this for you. “Harry, this is vintage alaïa, I don’t need that” you’d said. “You’re a stylist, sweetheart, might come in handy — and you’ve been eyeing it up since you saw it, at least try it on, yeah? See how you feel after”.
You’d tried it on, and it fit so perfect your mouth went a little dry — and his eyes on you, the way he smoothed his hands over your hips and told you that “you look so pretty, angel, prettiest fucking thing I ever saw” made you light-headed, running your thighs together in the dressing room. He liked doing that to you, putting you in pretty things, seeing you admire yourself. He bought you the alaïa, the cavalli handbag, a silk Gucci scarf — he was still polite, still your sweet thoughtful boy, but you could see through the cracks to what lay beneath that. The power he held over you, the obvious pleasure he took in being able to take care of you, showering you in nice things, the way he made you feel you didn’t have to think about anything when you were with him because he could do the thinking for you.
That’s the man that took you to bed. The one that told you to put your pretty new things away and wait for him in the bedroom while he tucked the groceries away. The one who met you with hungry eyes when he found you stripped down to your new chocolate brown agent provocateur set and kneeling on the bed and just clicked his tongue and asked you if he told you to do that. Tutted when you looked at him all confused and tried to explain yourself, shushed you and said (with the same quiet intensity as the first day he met you), “not your fault baby, didn’t have to think at all today, you’re just my pretty little doll, huh?”
that’s the Harry that felt every bit of your mouth with his fingers, pressed down on your tongue until you drooled a little and then made fun of you for it. The one that wouldn’t let you touch his dick until he worked you up so good that you thought you would cry, ran his tongue over the lace on your body, teased over every single sensitive inch of you until you were shaking and begging (“please, Harry please, just touch me, anything, anything” “look at you — pretty fucking mess for me, huh? wanna see you cry, baby, can’t give you my dick unless you ask real nice for me”).
He fucked you slow and deep with a hand wrapped around your neck, told you that one day he’d buy you something shiny to lay where his hand had been, but until then you’d just have to wear his fingers around your throat — told you that it was his favorite thing you’d tried on all day, called you his doll, his baby, his perfect little slut. “M’gonna give you everything you fucking want,” he said, licking the salt off your skin as it trailed down your cheek, pulling your head back to spit in your mouth and rub it into your tongue (“filthy thing, you like that? nuh-uh? you got real tight on me, baby, you must really like that”), rolling his hips and driving in hard until your eyes rolled back and you couldn’t even find your voice to beg him for more. “And you’re gonna let me, aren’t you? Not gonna fight me, are you baby? Just gonna let me take care of everything, I know what you need, daddy’s gonna give you fucking everything — that’s it, angel, just shut the fuck up and take it, you’re so good at that”.
He made you come like that, and then flipped you over, lifted your hips up and licked you out from the back, slapped you across the clit if you tried to run away from it, told you to “take it, don’t fucking run, gonna make a big mess aren’t you, show me, fuckin’ show me, that’s so good, you’re so good”, and then fucked you like that — pushed your face into the mattress and laid into you until you did make a mess, till you were drooling with it.
He was back in full sweetheart mode when he was done with you — ran you a bath and toweled you dry and held you in his arms till you fell asleep, kissed your head and said “thank you, baby, did so good for me, gave me everything I’ll ever need”. He was complex like that — a menace, an angel, a demon, a fucking fairytale prince. And you were lucky enough that you got to see every inch of it, bask in the flow of it.
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slutboybarbie · 1 year
Text
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When He’s Not Around pt.3
Dom!Harry Styles x Reader
18+
Warnings/summary: dom Harry, slight angst, getting back together(?), a little fluff, L bombs, they’re not the best people morally, mating press
A/N: this’ll probably be the last part? I wasn’t really sure how to end it given it was supposed to be a one shot lmao
Part 1 Part 2
~~~
"I know you're in there Y/N, your cars outside. So let me in."
You were still stuck on the couch, debating whether or not to let Harry in. After two more harsh knocks, you finally get up.
When the door opens you see Harry's fist lowering, a small smile appearing on his face.
He pushes his way in before you can shut him out again, taking a seat on the couch.
After closing the door, you stand awkwardly in your living room, waiting for Harry to break the silence.
"I'm sorry.", you both end up saying at the same time.
He goes to speak again, but you cut him off, finally coming to your senses.
"No no, let me apologize.", you sit next to him on the couch, body facing towards him while you begin to pick at your nails.
"I felt guilty, and instead of owning up to my shit and acting like an adult, I just wanted to blame you.", you glance up to see Harry watching you intently before looking down again.
"We're bad people, Harry.", you sigh frustratedly. "Liam was your best friend and my fucking boyfriend, and we betrayed him.", you can see Harry's head fall a bit, probably ashamed of himself.
"I tried to shut you out, thinking that maybe I'd feel better, that it would somehow make Liam feel better.", your teeth clench, head shaking as you rant. "Because how am I supposed to deal with myself, knowing that I'm in love with the man I cheated with."
Your head finally lifts at the same time that Harry's springs up, tears in his eyes.
"What?", he asks while his voice cracks. "You love me? But I thought- you said it was just a fling. That it wasn't anything real.", he uses the sleeve of his shirt to wipe his tears, a few still falling down his face.
"I know, I know what I said, and I'm sorry for lying to you. I just didn't know how to deal with how I was feeling.", you move even closer to Harry, hands coming to cradle his face.
"We can be together now though, yeah? It's not a perfect start, but I can't let this be over."
His lips join yours in a soft kiss, almost like he was scared to do it, a subtle taste of salt from his leftover tears invading your mouth as you melt into the kiss.
"Now, tell me you love me too.", you say once you break apart, referring to your somewhat spontaneous admission.
"You couldn't tell that all this time?", he says with a slight laugh.
"Just say it, please.", you playfully whine.
"I love you.", he says sincerely.
Harry reaches to cradle your face just how you did his, pressing small kisses all over it, muttering "I love you" after each one.
~~~
"Say it again love, let me hear it."
"I love you."
"Yeah? You love the way I fuck you, don't you?"
You were on your knees, back arched and face down into a pillow as Harry took you from behind. His hand fisted into your braids, tugging on them to anchor himself.
He'd been holding back his orgasm since the moment he slid in. It'd been a long couple weeks, in which he refrained from touching himself. It just didn't feel right without you.
"Missed this.", Harry said through gritted teeth. "Y'miss me baby?"
You nod your head as much as you can in Harry's grip, wishing he'd cut the small talk and just fuck you already.
You damn near cry when he pulls out, feeling yourself be flipped over and silenced with a kiss before you can even question anything.
"Wanted to see your face." He admits before pushing back inside you, his head falling into the crook of your neck as he lets out a shaky breath.
It's not long before his pace picks back up, the sounds of skin against skin filling the room. Your hand travels down in between the two of you, landing on your clit and the pressure immediately draws a moan from you.
Harry notices and pushes your hand away, replacing it with his own.
"Let me take care of you, hm? Wanna make you feel the way you make me feel."
You try not to seem too affected by his words, or the feeling of his skilled fingers on your clit, "Yeah and how is that?" 
You're surprised to hear how breathless and raspy your voice sounds, but Harry seems to like it with the way his hips press against yours a little harder this time.
"Good, honey. You make me feel so. fucking. good."
He punctuates each word with a hard thrust, one hand coming to grab the side of your neck, forcing you to look him in the eye before kissing you.
The two of you continue to swallow each other’s moans, you being the first to break so that you could catch your breath.
Harry can feel you tightening around him, he knows you’re getting close.
“Y’know,” he says before standing up slightly, removing himself from the bear hug position. You watch him grab hold of your legs, pushing them towards you so that he can go even deeper. “last time we fucked, I realized something.”
The sentence somewhat pulls you out of your haze, the fact that he’s referring to the day Liam found out catching you off guard. “Y-yeah?”, you ask.
“Yeah. It was right before you began to panic. Felt this pussy grip me so tight baby, if it weren’t for the circumstances I’m sure I would’ve came right then.”
Your brows furrow at his unspoken accusation, trying to focus on your pleasure instead, but Harry stops moving.
“Oh no sweetheart, you can’t ignore me.”
“Harry please.”
“Please what?” He taunts.
“Please make me cum.”, you cry out. The ache in your legs is only making your frustration worse, and Harry couldn’t care less.
“I will.”, he states. “But only if you admit that you wanted to get caught.”
“What-”
“Don’t play dumb baby.” He says paired with a circular motion of his hips, giving you a slight taste of what you could have. “Tell me how dirty you are, how you wanted him to see me fuck you.”
There’s a roughness to his voice, alongside the playful tone and you want to call him crazy. Tell him that he’s imagining things, and of course you’d never want that to happen, but you can’t. Because you know he’s right.
“Okay, okay, you’re right. I liked it, I wanted him to see us, I did.” Your voice is pitiful, airy moans following your admission once Harry begins thrusting again.
“I know love, I know. You just can’t help yourself, can you?” He coos, and you shake your head, causing him to let out a chuckle.
“Sluts never can.”
~~~
I honestly feel like there could have been a better ending, but I’m not used to series’ so if anyone has any ideas, let me know ! Thanks for reading <3
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cherryjuiceblues · 2 months
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𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 | 𝟓.𝟏
➯ Y/N SPENDS TOO MUCH TIME IN HER OWN HEAD WITHOUT HER DOMINANT AND HARRY’S WORRIED HE MIGHT SCARE HER OFF IF HE PROFESSES WHAT HE’S SO DYING TO SAY. ✰ dom!harry relationship wobbles. sexual content. dominant and submissive dynamics. daddy kink. tickling kink. squirting. minors dni. 𝑤𝑐 9.7k ッ mutually beneficial masterlist
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Harry’s slacks are being fiddled with. Threads starting to fray from the incessant tugging of nervous fingertips.
And normally—normally—Harry wouldn’t have a problem with Y/N needing to keep her hands busy, or attempting to enmesh herself into his side. But today is different. And today, Harry’s patience is wearing thin.
He almost feels guilty. He knows Y/N doesn’t enjoy these situations, this atmosphere. He knows she was being kind when she said she’d like to come with him. He knows she’s been anxious since he asked her. 
But the frustration is winning tonight—the silent wish that she’d just stayed at home bouncing around the inside of his skull. It makes him feel mean; intolerant. And Harry is neither mean nor intolerant. Ever.
He doesn’t like to think it but… something isn’t working. Something is slowly turning into everything—and it sits heavy in his gut—heavy and foreign.
“Darlin’, hands in your lap, please.” His breath dances across Y/N’s temple and she shivers slightly; only enough for Harry to notice. It’s quiet, his voice, and she nods to herself—the tiniest jerk of her head—a silent apology as she smooths her clammy palms down her own thighs.
The dinner is boring—he’ll admit. But Harry isn’t one to let apathy show on his face when it matters and… right now, it matters. The business partners sitting before him, a husband and his wife, are perhaps two of the most important people Harry has had the displeasure of dealing with during his time as CEO. They’re more passionate than him, and loud when it matters—they’re determined and distinguished in the financial scene—and can have their voices be the only ones heard when they want them to be.
But regardless of how much his eyes are rolling on the inside, Harry’s face presents complete and utter professionalism besides his less than enthusiastic partner, who—bless her—had tried. She had. She’d been polite smiles, and firm handshakes, and straightened posture. She’d been silently engaged, and spoke when addressed. She’d been perfect. But that was an hour and a half ago—and if Harry had been feeling any other way, he’d be much more forgiving than he is right now. 
Because Y/N’s face is starting to lose its civility, and her eyes are starting to gloss over, and her posture is starting to slump, and her composure is starting to slip. And that’s okay. It is. It should be. But Harry’s anxious too; he’s worried, he’ll admit. He’s choosing his every word with precision, he’s using words and phrases not in his everyday vocabulary in an attempt to write himself into Mr. and Mrs. Pierson’s good books.
So the nerves are getting the better of him. And it’s an ugly feeling. He hates feeling the control slip from his hands, hates feeling as though he is not the one in charge of his emotions, hates letting the anxiety treat Y/N as his asset as opposed to his other half.
And Harry doesn’t like to disrespect the ones he loves. 
Such a thought may seem sudden. But he’s loved her for a while now—it doesn’t scare him. But if Y/N were anyone else, he wouldn’t even have to question whether she returns his feelings. Because it should be obvious by this point.
But this is Y/N. The woman he loves, sure, but also the woman who has required Harry to adopt a new way of communication—for the better—without a doubt. Yet still, what he doesn’t know is how the fuck he’s going to tell her. How he’s going to say anything without overwhelming her. He likes to think that, by now, he’s got a pretty good understanding of how Y/N’s brain works—which is why (and it feels cruel to even venture down this neural pathway but) he’s nearly one-hundred-percent sure that she has convinced herself that he could never love her.
Which is absurd. It’s so absurd that Harry would be more likely to believe the Earth is flat than to encourage the notion that Y/N is unloveable. He would rather voluntarily get an intrusive operation or lose all of his personal belongings. But how does one convince another that they are worthy of love? If they don’t believe it themself. 
And, undoubtedly, her behaviour is still off. Despite their recent conversation—despite Y/N’s tears and Harry’s reassurance—she’s still fighting the submission. And it’s draining her. Harry can see it. She wants nothing more than to give in but she just won’t let herself and it’s weighing heavier and heavier on Harry’s heart. As though she’s scared, or creating enough distance to build a wall—brick by brick—Y/N hesitates, Y/N ignores, Y/N diverts.
The dominant in him thinks she should be punished. For countlessly testing his patience. But it doesn’t feel right—the possibility that Harry might make her cry for any reason that is not good makes his bones ache—and Y/N is on the brink of tears a lot these days. Harry doesn’t know what to do. How to approach what’s going on—when they’ve already had some kind of conversation surrounding Y/N’s difficulties with accepting his care—and seeing that nothing has changed. He understands that he needs to ask her to make a decision—to stop working or to stop trying to maintain his home, as well as her own; she cannot continue to do both and preserve any sort of mental stability.
But he suspects that she may not choose the thing they both want the most.
And when Harry is letting his impatience overpower him then how can she be blamed at all?
She’s tired when they get in the car—back moulding into the seat as she gives a relieved sigh. And relief—relief is something that releases countless endorphins, something that can have Y/N do a complete one-eighty in personality and demeanour. Relief makes her chatty, and it makes her fidgety. 
“They were a bit uppity.” The words are carried in a manic sort of lilt.
“Mhm,” Harry hums, paying attention to the road as he pulls out of the car park and into the throng of vehicles. The headlights pierce right into his eye sockets as they speed past. Spending an evening with The Pierson’s has inflicted the most terrible of headaches—but he’s relieved too—at the prospect of not having to deal with them again for a long while.
Y/N scratches at her knuckles for a second too long—Harry has to ignore the urge to cover her hands with his own—as she admits, “I don’t think they liked me very much.”
And maybe his first port of call should’ve been reassurance, but he says, “Who cares what they think?” The line of irritation might start to blur in his voice, Harry can’t tell. 
“Me, obviously.”
He spares her a glance out of the corner of his eye to see she’s already looking at him, shy but cheeky smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. She does that sometimes. When she says something bratty but wants to stay in his good books. It usually works.
Harry says nothing, turning his attention back to the blinding road before he can see that smile disappearing. Y/N shuffles in her seat next to him, looking out of her window with a little sigh. It’s times like these that she worries. Worries about being too much to handle. And right now her anxieties manifest quickly—insecurities bubbling to the surface and lodging themselves in her throat. One tiny action, or a handful of even smaller ones, changing the course of her pattern of thinking.
It feels rude to ask, each syllable falling off her tongue with a clatter. She almost wants to flinch. “Can you take me home, please? As in… my home.”
This has Harry attentive, granting her more than a single peek from the corner of his eye. He looks over for a second or two, asking, “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” she nods, and the confession comes easily now, anxiety and relief coalescing into a chaotic swirl, “I’m tired,” harsh knuckles nudge at eye sockets. “It was really loud in there… and those lights were awful… and… I just need a night alone, I think.” She doesn’t say what she’s really believing—I think you need a night alone from me.
But Harry doesn’t argue. Harry never argues. He never usually has to; things just go his way. He’s resigned as he sighs, before nodding quickly, tersely, eyes fixated on the road. “Okay, darling, if you’re sure.”
“Sorry,” Y/N finds herself saying, guilt swarming in her gut despite believing it’s for the best. But it seems nothing she says ever feels right. 
Harry reaches over to squeeze her thigh, warm and encompassing, a silent reassurance that she needn’t apologise. And then he verbally reassures her too, “Don’t be silly, you’re allowed to miss home comforts,” he squeezes again, and flits his eyes over with a small smile, “especially when you’ve got such a cute bedroom.”
Y/N can’t help but mirror his expression, a giddy giggle bubbling out of her throat. “It is pretty cute.” Cuter with her beautifully broad dominant decorating her frilly bedspread, but she doesn’t have the confidence to specify so.
Harry keeps the weight of his hand on her thigh for as long as he possibly can, lifting it only when crucial to the safety of his driving. When he pulls up outside Y/N’s building and turns off the ignition, neither of the pair move. She asked to go home but she doesn’t want to be here. She wants Harry to turn the car back on and take her to his home whether she may pretend to protest or not.
But all she does is angle her body towards Harry’s and peek up at him from under her lashes. He’s already looking at her, of course, a tired smile on his handsome face.
“Come here,” he brings his hand up and threads his fingers through her hair, scratching soothingly. Y/N’s eyes flutter shut, unable to resist the way she gravitates towards him. She doesn’t see the worry in Harry’s eyes.
He kisses her. And she kisses him back. A soft sponging of lips warmed by the gentle exhalations from their noses. It’s nothing indecent, but any passerby would be sure to read the signs; there’s no other way to interpret such a kiss other than with deeply rooted affection. More than just a brief goodbye between casual lovers.
Harry pulls away first, letting his lips tingle against Y/N’s cupid’s bow. “I—” I love you. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay.” Her eyes stay shut, frozen in Harry’s hold, wishing to stay in his car indefinitely.
“Okay, sweetheart,” he murmurs, slowly untangling his fingers and swiping down the bridge of her nose with his knuckle to make her smile, “go and get some rest.”
As soon as she’s disappeared behind her front door, turning around to give Harry a little wave to send him off with one final pretty picture, he lets his posture slump. He lets the worry carve lines along his face, and he lets his lungs heave a tired sigh.
Harry doesn’t much like his house anymore—not without Y/N in it—it feels double its already gargantuan size and the hues she’s painted across every surface fade back to white. But, when he gets home, the remnants of her follow him from room to room. An almost painful reminder. And Harry has to shake some sense into himself; she’s not dead. She’s fine, she’s asleep in her bed, safe in her house, but… it’s not that he’s worried about.
He sits in his kitchen alone, stabbing pitifully at his fruit for one. He’s not hungry, but Y/N never turns down a fresh bowlful at any time of the day, so it seems his brain insists that now would be the best occasion. And it’s not like they’ve never spent nights apart but this one feels different, this one feels forced—tense—unravelling. 
Mugs scatter the draining board, vibrant in colour and pattern; one small example of Harry seeing something—anything—and feeling compelled to buy it for Y/N. To watch her face light up over whichever cutesy thing he’s presented her with. They fill his cupboards (the mugs) pushing his old, plain, white ones to the back where they gather dust. He should put the clean ones away but he doesn’t. Instead his viridescent eyes trail across to the fridge, lettered magnets untouched from their formation that Y/N had ordered them in earlier that day. 
PRUNE
Harry can’t help but smile despite how heavy his face feels—unable to ignore the idiosyncrasies of Y/N. There was nothing inherently funny about the word but for her to deem it a bizarre enough move to play as her hand… that’s what makes him smile. That in their silent, little game of who can spell out the most peculiar of words with their limited letters, her brain will always go somewhere he never expects.
He feels an immense weight swirling around in his gut; for not being with her now, for not making sure she’s okay. Regardless of her wish to be alone, Harry should know when to overrule her decisions if he believes he knows best. He’s become responsible for Y/N’s wellbeing—a true joy in his life but it doesn’t come without its challenges. It’s difficult to remind himself that she coped on her own for a long time, but he doesn’t think it's unfair to describe her attempts at self care as poor. And just because she survived on her own, that doesn’t mean she was okay—Harry has a pretty clear picture of that now.
Moping doesn’t tend to be an attractive look but… it doesn’t matter much, Harry considers, when he’s on his own. He mopes—from the kitchen and up the stairs, to his bedroom that he frowns at upon entering. Full of Y/N. He misses her so potently and he doesn’t understand why. 
The guilt gnaws away at him as he gets ready for bed, alone. As he strips from his uncomfortable suit, alone. As he brushes his teeth, alone, staring dismally at his tired face. Y/N’s products scatter the counter, unmoved from where she left them this morning. Her exfoliator narrows its beady eyes at him as he splashes his face with water, patting himself dry, alone—trudging back to his bed, alone. Cold and empty, bigger than it’s ever been before and dull without the mound of his lover curled within, sheets unloving as they lay leaden on his lone body.
He can smell her, he can see her things, her clothes, her personality—everywhere. So potent and yet so hollow, so ghostly. Harry groans, smothering his face into his pillow, but the force in which his head presses in only expels more of what he’s trying not to inhale.
Sleep doesn’t introduce itself; Harry doesn’t even let it. He’s up and out of bed before he can let his thoughts drift further, and out into his garden where he lets the midnight chill kiss his cheeks, nursing a caffeinated tea—sure to paint the sullen unders of his eyes a dusty mauve in the morning.
Y/N sleeps surprisingly well. And it is surprising, because before the unconsciousness had taken over, she’d tossed and turned for at least an hour. She’d even cried for a while when unable to stop her mind from wandering into dark hallways and even darker prison cells.
But then again, a good headache inducing cry always was the best medicine.
She turns down Harry when he phones her at eleven fifty-two the next morning. To go and get breakfast at The Little Snail Café, a usual occasion for them on a Saturday. 
I don’t really feel like going out—I’m sorry. No… no, thank you. I’m still a little out of it from last night. …No, I’m okay. Really, ‘m okay. Yes, I promise. Okay… Okay, bye.
It feels wrong, it itches somewhere she cannot reach—it lines her bones and aches and aches. She spends most of that day sitting and staring, at nothing in particular. A whole chunk of her day just zoned out in the direction of her wall. But it wouldn’t have mattered had her vision been aimed at white plaster or a menagerie of the world’s most exotic animals—her eyes still would have glossed over, blurred by a sheen of vacancy.
By the time the sun sets and the moon casts its chilling glow, Y/N can recount eating one full meal and going to the bathroom twice, maybe three times—the rest of the hours lost in a haze.
It doesn’t feel particularly good to get out of the house—and face Sunday morning head on—but Y/N forces herself to regardless. Whether she has or has not run out of milk is entirely unrelated. There were no plans to stop for anything else, to become waylaid or distracted by bookstores, or the smells of deliciously fatty breakfast foods frying, or even to bump into her dear friend. Her dear friend who she has neglected for so long that, embarrassingly, Y/N will admit, she’s been avoiding out of shame.
And Niall is feeling neglected. Which Y/N knows, not from assumption but because he tells her as such.
“Never see you anymore, do I?” He nurses the steaming mug between his palms, the searing ceramic bringing feeling back into his iced fingertips. “Have to bump into you at the bleedin’ shops, beg you to get a coffee, and you still won’t tell me how you are,” he swallows. “And you hate going shopping alone!” His jewellery clatters against the mug as he gesticulates wildly. “We always did that together,” pausing to take a sip, sighing when Y/N doesn’t take the opportunity to fill his silence. “You’re breaking my heart here, Y/N.”
The two friends work in the same building—and that is the fact that is silently ignored by either party. It’s awkward, and it’s sad, to admit out loud that they don’t even cross paths at work.
She sighs, hoping the swirling, spiralling liquid of her latte might just hypnotise her. “I’m sorry.”
Another resigned exhale, “Yes, well. I know y’are. You’re always bloody sorry. Too bloody sorry, if y’ask me.”
“You’re being mean,” she frowns, unused to the lack of frivolity coming from the usually maddeningly overjoyed half of their duo.
“Mean?” He’s incredulous. “I’m grumpy, aren’t I! Because I miss my best friend and she’s gone radio silent on me.”
Yeah. She can’t deny that—already admitted it, in fact. “I didn’t mean to, I— I forget. I—”
“You forgot about me.” His voice is perfectly steady. Nearly disbelieving but still and stoic.
“I did not! I…” she swallows around a scratch in her throat, trying so hard to ignore the uncomfortable wash of heat over her forehead. “I’ve never had more than one person to focus on before. And I’ve been so busy, I just— I get overwhelmed, and I panic, and I… You never even texted me.”
Niall huffs, grumbling, “Was waiting for you to text me.”
“Well,” Y/N exhales, tempted to laugh, all of a sudden, “it’s just as much your fault then. You know I’m not good at it. Texting and whatever.”
And then a telling vibration rumbles through her bag, loud enough for both bickering friends to stop and catch one another’s eyes. Y/N tries to play it off, tries to ignore it but Niall rolls his eyes.
“Answer him.”
She scoffs, “It could be anyone.”
“Oh, give over. Answer him.”
She rolls her bottom lip into her mouth nervously, a murky guilt swimming around her insides as she pulls out her phone.
Harry Hi darling, missed you yesterday. Hope you’re having a nice day. X
And suddenly the remorse is filling her lungs like water. Her heart dips inside her ribs, pounding alarmingly, lips pulling down into a frown she doesn’t realise is visible. She types out a reply automatically, autopilot taking over—declaring she’s out with Niall and that she misses him too—maybe a tad overeager with the exclamation marks.
“What’s wrong?”
Her eyes stay locked onto the little keyboard at the bottom of her screen. “Hm? Nothing.”
“Right,” Niall mutters, unconvinced. When she puts the phone down, he catches her off guard, and Y/N hadn’t adequately prepared for her day to go this way at all. She’d just needed some bloody milk! 
“We’re going out. T’dinner or something—”
The telltale signs of a migraine tease the backs of her eye sockets. “Oh—Niall, no—”
“—Mhm, yes we are. Bring Harry,” he nods, “I’ll bring… m’self, invite some guys from work.”
“Niall—”
“—Y/N.”
They stare at one another, Niall’s gaze firm and Y/N’s pleading. There’s nothing she hates more than social gatherings, let alone awkwardly unfamiliar ones with coworkers she only speaks to when they absolutely demand her attention, for Christ’s sake. But her friend doesn’t give—and Y/N can’t really blame him. She’s been a shoddy friend, after all, the least she can do is spend an evening with him. 
“Boyfriend can hold your hand,” he teases and Y/N frowns exaggeratedly, a warmth seeping out over her face.
“Shut up,” her bottom lip protrudes and she brings her steaming mug up to her face to distract from her incessant embarrassment. She doesn’t want to correct him about the boyfriend thing. Y/N comes across juvenile enough without having the ‘I don’t know what we are’ conversation. Besides, Niall would only dismiss her queries—quite rightly too. Of course, they’re dating; what else would it be? Harry had specified anyway. She was his, and he was hers.
“Please no dinner.”
Niall says nothing. And then he nods, “Okay, fine. No dinner. A long weekend, me and you, somewhere with wifi.”
“That sounds nice,” Y/N smiles. It’s small, a little nervous, but it’s genuine. She hasn’t spent proper time with her friend in so long that she’s worried she might have forgotten how. But it’s Niall, and she knows those anxieties will melt away near instantaneously.
“But just to remind you, if I hadn’t taken you out all those months ago, you never would’ve met Harry so maybe you should reconsider your stance on socialising.”
“That’s not fair—Wait, that’s not even true, you set us up on a bloody date, you arse. Surprise attacked me.”
He smiles. “Semantics.”
Y/N goes home on her own to wallow without Harry—knowing too well she could be in his bed instead of hers. And she spends the rest of her day similarly to the one before it—only now she’s got the dread of Sunday blues setting in. She starts to think, and overthink, and overthink her overthinking. She analyses everything about her relationship with Harry.
Their routine is—was—ordinary. Harry worked, Y/N worked, they met back at Harry’s home in which Y/N spent more time than her own, they ate dinner, they went to sleep. Rinse and repeat. It felt solid despite previous teething problems. But slowly, slowly but surely, things changed. So gradually that you wouldn’t notice straight away.
Now, Harry works, Y/N works, Harry texts Y/N to make sure she’s still coming over, Y/N says yes most of the time, she defies him more than she ever has done before, they play it off as bratty behaviour and the rest remains the same. Neither of them particularly like this fact, but Y/N is convinced of her own self-sabotage and Harry is practically terrified he’ll scare her off. So they stay at this impasse, waiting for what won’t come. 
And Y/N only reaches her breaking point quicker, and quicker. It’s why she lies to him the next day. She regrets it as soon as the decision is made because Y/N has never been a good liar, but it turns out she’s practically incapable of it when Harry is involved. If it weren’t for the fact his voice crackled down the phone line and he wasn’t staring into her anxious eyes, then she’s certain she wouldn’t have even tried to fib in the first place.
She’d glanced around an empty reception and moused over the five unread emails in her inbox as she informed Harry she was just too swamped to go out for lunch. The phones are ringing off the hooks, she’d said, staring at the empty chair behind her shared desk that was hardly ever preoccupied by two receptionists at once. Y/N had always been grateful for her shifts, but in that moment she’d almost wished there were fifty of them behind the bloody desk—phones ringing and keyboards clicking—just to compensate for the deceit.
And her heart thumped uncomfortably in her chest as she lied to him, clenching her eyes shut as if it wouldn’t just amplify the disappointment funnelling into her ear. With no vision, her mind could only wander from room to room, happening upon an easel and starting to paint the perfect depiction of personified emotions. Harry with frown lines and sad eyes, clutching at his heart as though someone had tried to forcibly remove it. 
The piece would hang in the Louvre, titled something like The Fatal Lie or She Who Breaks Hearts or He Does Everything for Her and She Fucking Lies to Him What A Fucking Bitc—
She didn’t open her eyes until the line went dead.
In truth, Y/N can’t exactly explain why she thinks this is necessary. If someone were to ask her to be logical about it all; to present her ideas as though they were a brand new theory or hypothesis, she would be entirely stumped.
Because there is no logic to it—but she fears she’s spiralling a little bit and she’s never known how to stop. Like one big DNA strand, Y/N can spiral forever. She feels as though she’s stuck inside her own personalised riddle. Why won’t the submissive let her dominant take care of her? And the answer is staring her right in the face but she can’t figure it out. Everyone is screaming at her inside of their heads but Y/N remains clueless.
It seems karma has a lovely big handful in store for her, however. And from an outsider’s perspective, Y/N might be more relieved that she is immediately punished for lying to Harry. But as it all happens, justice is the last thing on her mind.
Y/N has had more bad days than she’s had hot dinners. (Considering her eating habits are hardly healthy, that makes such an idiom somewhat disturbing.) Most days, she rolls out of bed expecting the following twelve hours to pour litre upon litre into her stress bucket—one so butchered and beaten that there are holes in the tin, leaking droplets steadily, and its contents are sloshed about with no poise.
As a result, she’s become fairly skilled at hiding her bubbling emotions under the surface; putting a lid on them until she’s somewhere safe to implode. To let them tip over the edge and sear the ground beneath her.
So what on Earth was compelling her eyes to start filling with no regard for her current environment? A professional setting, Y/N. Your workplace. Impatient men demanding things she cannot help them with may as well be included in the job description; Y/N knows how to deal with them—recites the sickeningly polite script memorised within the overwhelmed organ inside her skull. Tells them that this week is fully booked, Sir… and would they like to hear next week’s availability? 
She knows what to do. So why is it so hard today? Why do their bitter tones and probing questions drill so pointedly into her temples? She knows the answers to those riddles but a stubborn refusal to accept them makes her all the more frustrated.
It is so sorely reminiscent of the first time Harry had shown up at her door, faced with Y/N’s smeared mascara and crinkled work clothes. He’d bought her flowers, and he cooked her dinner, and he made her forget all about her day. Since then, Y/N thinks she’s forced his hand on too many occasions to be able to forgive herself. How many more times can she come home crying before he decides he’s had enough? The thought only makes her sniffle louder.
By the time her workday comes to a close, Y/N is ready to crawl into the nearest gutter and start her decomposing process sixty decades early. She takes herself to her preferred bathroom stall—the one with the wall on her right hand side—and dials Harry’s number before she has the chance to change her mind. If this is the last time he can handle her then so be it.
He picks up too quickly for Y/N to figure out what she’s going to say, his name in a frail whimper the only thing that comes out. “Harry?” She does try to school her tone but to no avail. Her voice totters about all over the place.
Immediately, Y/N hears shuffling on Harry’s end. A hasty sit-up, or a scattering of papers, the scraping of a chair pushing back from his desk in a panic. “Baby? What’s th’matter?”
And really, it’s Harry’s own fault for the clumsy sniffle that perforates his ears—how could Y/N not cry harder to the sound of his worried timbre? He calls her baby and she turns into one; helpless and desperate for care.
“Nothing, ‘m—I’m okay.”
Harry gives an exasperated huff, “Darlin’, I can hear you crying,” he smiles slightly through the phone but he’s not happy. “What’s wrong—?”
“—Sorry.”
Their voices overlap and there’s a pregnant pause. “Y/N.”
“Can—Can I come over?”
“Of course you can, sweetheart, why are you asking me?” She hears the scratching of stubble and it tickles her ears as if Harry is right next to her. “Never have to ask.”
“Okay,” she lets out a relieved sigh. He doesn’t sound annoyed, or exhausted, or fed up; it starts to thaw at the tensions in her body already. “Sorry.”
“S’okay, come home, alright?” Another pause where, presumably, he checks his watch, “Your shift’s over.”
“Mhm.” She hums so she doesn’t speak in wails. Shame slicks up and down her arms. It’s unbearably hot. It pecks at her skin and boils her from the inside out.
“I’ll see you in a bit, yeah, darlin’? Working from home today, I’ll put the kettle on f’ya.”
“Okay…” there’s a pause where a certain phrase feels appropriate, and then, “bye.”
Y/N dabs pathetically at her sodden cheeks, and blows her nose into a tissue. She tries to take slow, deep breaths but her airways are all congested and it must make for a sorry sight. 
But her shift is over. And Harry is waiting for her at home.
“There she is,” his voice practically carries her over the threshold of the front door. Harry’s holding a hot cup of tea and rubbing a socked foot along his calf to soothe an itch. He leans so effortlessly against the kitchen door frame.
He walks over, practically cooing, “Oh, Y/N. What are we g’na do with you, hm?” It’s almost patronising—if not for Y/N’s fondness for submission. For Harry’s dominance. She nuzzles her nose into his chest, soothed by every warm, heavy stroke of his palm up and down her back (he makes good heed to hold the steaming mug away from their embrace).
Y/N must look a mess—all sticky faced and wet eyes. Harry doesn’t say a thing—simply ushers her into the living room with a guiding palm melting into her lower back.
She exclaims suddenly, “My shoes—!” and it doesn’t matter how comfortable Y/N may be in Harry’s home, she’ll never feel polite wandering around in outdoor footwear. But he shushes her, forces her gently onto the sofa with a nudge and places her drink on the side table. He kneels down, taking care of her bothersome loafers that still rub against her heels no matter how broken in they may be. Nurturing digits squeeze and knead the sensitive flesh, almost eliciting a peal of shrieks and writhing, before they smooth up the backs of her calves—nylon course against soft palms.
The shaggy rug that Y/N over-familiarised herself with, all those months ago, cradles her feet—her socks, however cute they may be with frills around the ankles, prohibiting her from burying her toes despite her best attempts. Harry looks up at her from the floor, worry still ever present in his expression. He’d hidden it well, greeting her with a smile, as he always tends to do, but now she’s sat in front of him, sofa swallowing her up, and he lets the fuss tug at his brows.
“Wanna talk to me?”
It’s soft and unassuming, but Y/N still looks upset to be asked. She sniffs, “Just another bad day,” weak smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. Her voice is all thick and sluggish; Harry wishes he could personally caress her larynx, however disturbed that may be. He doesn’t care.
He won’t nag about quitting her job—he won’t. Not out loud anyway. But it’s hard when there’s an absolute certainty of someone’s happiness increasing tenfold… but they won’t allow it. Harry can’t bear seeing her like this so often—not when he’s sure it could all be fixed. 
Especially after the plate debacle.
I’m not happy—her words echo around his skull like a reverberating clang to the head. The words escaped during a moment of vulnerability, an admission never likely to be reiterated under more controlled circumstances. But Y/N had reached the end of her tether, her ability to cope tested beyond its capabilities, and Harry has become aware that she’s never really, truly comfortable within her own skin; living, working, existing the way she does. 
They’d half discussed it, a few weeks ago, and Y/N had been better immediately afterwards but then… as time passed and her insecurities remained festering, their conversation may as well have never happened.
“I’m sorry,” he presses a kiss to her knee, “wish I could make it all better.” Wish you would let me. 
“You do.” It makes her smile—albeit, sadly—to see Harry so dedicated to the way he sponges his mouth against her body. Over her knee, up her thigh, along the wrist that sits heavily in her lap. 
“Let me take proper care of you tonight.” A verbal switch that turns Y/N’s brain to mush the moment Harry flicks it. “Get you out of that cruel head of yours.” As he dots kisses across the palm of her hand and he whispers against the sensitive skin. “Pretty, but cruel.” 
“Mm,” Y/N quivers against his touch, overwhelmed by the heat that flushes her cheeks. “Need you.” It almost comes out as a sob, eyes filling with desperation as Harry’s kisses send lightning strikes down her spine, standing the hairs of her arms on end.
He pushes up a little, gaining enough height to look into her eyes as he shushes her gently. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” The sofa cushions give way as Harry takes Y/N’s spot, manoeuvring her onto his lap and coaxing her face into his neck. “You’ve got me.” Feeling the slope of her nose press so solidly makes Harry feel incomplete without it—like her weight is always meant to be glued to him this way.
He gives her a moment, a cuddle that he knows she’s needed, whispering promises of a good, good night. “Make you feel light as a feather, yeah?” But when it’s time to pry her away from the security of his hold, she grumbles and whines—unable to see the whole picture when life is so warm and cosy like this.
Harry’s not harsh with her; it’s not the time, but he still knows best. “Come on, baby, you know how this goes,” cupping his hands underneath her armpits as though she’s a big toddler and guiding her down to the floor—to the rug she loves so much. 
“That’s it—kneel down, f’me.” His thumb brushes the apple of her cheek, smoothing over the skin with adoration. “Such a good girl,” he smiles, lips stretching softly. Y/N leans into his palm, gentle breaths funnelling through her nostrils and into his lap. Her body relaxes, slumping unconsciously to lean against Harry’s knees as the weight of her head begs to be supported by his thighs.
“You trust me, don’t you?” The words dance their way into Y/N’s ears, slowly; unhurried. She takes a moment to register, but when she does, she nods—movements lagging and heavy.
“Yes, Sir,” she whispers, unaware of her own volition—seemingly out of control but content to cling onto the feeling. 
Harry’s lips quirk, top teeth rolling his bottom lip into his mouth to curb a grin. He’s missed her—this submission; the ease in which their hearts settle into when they both fulfil their respective roles. He’s unsure, right now, why Y/N is giving in tonight—when she’s been hellbent on pretending Harry’s control doesn’t smooth every worry line from her pretty face—when she’s been denying it to herself despite the truth lingering murkily between them; unacknowledged. He supposes her day really must have been bad.
But he won’t question it yet, not when the opportunity lies so openly in front of him. To make her happy again, if just for an evening. To prove to himself that the issue doesn’t lie within a place he’s found himself worrying about recently—a more vain, shallow insecurity that he’s admittedly never pondered upon before. 
He hums, thumb dipping lower to tease across her plush bottom lip, back up to her cheek, and down again. Y/N wants to open her mouth, tongue lingering just behind her lips evidently. She’s waiting to be told, waiting to be allowed—it stirs up something thick in Harry’s abdomen. He dips his digit past her eager mouth, pressing down on her tongue with intention. Her breath hits him heavily, a sigh of relief and of placidity.
“Just need something to suck on, I think.” 
It’s a connection he’s made—like handing a lollipop to a child to make them smile—that if Y/N could permanently have him in her mouth… she probably would. Not too dissimilar to a candied treat, in her eyes. Something to concentrate on, to feel fill her mouth, to be forced to focus on her breathing and forget about the world around her.
She nods into his hand, smaller fingers trying to burrow into the skin just above his knees. He’s wearing loose athletic shorts—comfortably manspreading—the feel of his little hairs and the warmth of his body keeping Y/N tethered to the ground.
Harry covers one of her hands with his free one, squeezing gently to convey an unspoken semblance of priority. Of his desire to only do what will make her feel better. And of his appreciation of her trust; believing so deeply in him to do what’s best for her.
It’s why he feels happy to pull his thumb from Y/N’s mouth and tug the elastic waistband of his shorts down. To let his hardening cock fatten up for her, eager to guide it past her awaiting lips as he smooths over her brow.
“Precious doll. Stop thinking, yeah? Let Daddy keep you safe.”
Her breaths hit his velvety skin, warm through her nostrils as she sighs an exhale of relief. Harry’s lashes flutter when she rolls her tongue along the underside of him, making all the effort to not twitch his hips up and into her mouth. He smooths a hand over her crown, heavy lids fighting to stay open as he admires the softness of her own as they rest shut. 
Y/N’s movements are sluggish—minimal—as her cheek smushes into the meat of Harry’s thigh, still half-concealed by his shorts. A light hand wraps around his cock, smaller digits and tired state of mind failing to provide much pressure but Harry doesn’t care. Harry thinks Y/N could blow streams of air on him and he’d still be besotted.
She’s falling asleep—usually nothing to be proud of—but the lax of her limbs is precisely her dominant’s greatest achievement. “Are you tired, baby?” Y/N shakes her head but Harry exhales a laugh. “Yes, you are,” he murmurs. “It’s okay, you can sleep,” lips forming around the permissions gently, large palm flattening over the top of her head, sending tiny sparks down her spine. She wants to nuzzle into him like a dog receiving scratches, being loved on and handled with care.
“You wanna stay down there?” Not for his own pleasure but for hers. Her contentment. Y/N nods, lips wet and swollen around him. “S’it comfy for you? Okay on your knees?”
“Mhm,” she hums, shuffling in even closer, free hand looping around the back of his calf. Harry finds himself swallowing a yawn at the sight of her so peaceful below him, finger dancing across her hairline and rubbing along the shell of her earlobe. 
Eventually his eyes close too, his hands comfortable in her hair, as they give their consciousness up for a moment of rest.
It’s no more than an hour later when Harry lets the responsibility wake him back up. He tucks himself away from where he’s slipped from Y/N’s pouty mouth; her back is slumped so dreadfully that Harry immediately curses himself for letting her stay on the wretched floor.
It disturbs Y/N, hauling her into his arms, but Harry rubs magical circles into her back—wondrous enough to elicit purrs out of her if she were capable of making such sounds. But she’s hardly opened her eyes before Harry decides to blow cool air across her face, completely unprovoked in his mischief.
“Hey!” It comes out as a girlish grunt, a discombobulated huff. Harry’s grinning at the sight of her chin trying to crawl into her neck. And it only entertains him further to curl his fingers into her sides and squeeze mercilessly.
“Ah–ah! Ha—Harry!” Cartoonishly, her eyes bulge out of her head, any last traces of sleep dispersing completely as Y/N’s body goes into flight mode—or attempts to, at least. Harry’s got her firmly stuck atop his lap, wriggling digits for his squirming girl. “St—op!”
“Ahh,” the bastard sounds reminiscent, ceasing his movements to bask in the glow of her giggles, “missed my smiley girl.”
But the smile disappears… and a frown replaces it, suddenly aimed towards his lap.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Harry dips down, index finger resting beneath her chin to coax it up and level with his own.
Y/N’s eyes are dull in colour, lacking their usual charm. “I’m sorry for being miserable all the time.”
“Oh—no, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, darling. Don’t apologise for having emotions, that’s silly,” and he squeezes her again, perhaps somewhat cruelly, just to see her teeth behind her lips as she yelps involuntarily.
It is silly, but Y/N forever holds an awareness of how much she may be burdening a person. “Just like making you smile… s’my job.” He bites his lip to hide his own smile, and it has the desired effect—Y/N’s own face copying him perfectly—only far cuter, in Harry’s eyes.
Then he dances his fingers up her side with pretend innocence, “Didn’t get to fuck you proper ‘cause you fell asleep on me.”
Her smile vanishes again but for a much better reason. And, yeah, she would like that—she really would—despite her demeanour suggesting she might rather be mauled to death by wild cats. Still so shy, Harry must think.
“Think I’d like to spread you out on the rug, hm? How’s that sound?”
It sounds like bliss. It sounds like her cunt cries out in pleasure, completely untouched, just from the idea. “Yeah,” she breathes, nodding.
Lips curl like devil’s horns, “Yeah? Wha’s that mean, dummy?”
“Dummy?!” It comes out squeaky, and a little petulant, if the way she thuds her fists against Harry’s chest is anything to go by. He raises his eyebrows at her, somewhat surprised, if not slightly impassive, at the way she talks back to him.
“Yeah, dummy,” taking her wrists and decorating them with his fingers as they curl all the way around. He pulls them off of his body and holds them by her shoulders. “Dumb for my cock and I haven’t even put it in you yet.”
Her hips grind down without her permission—the slightest rut fuelled by habit—one she never wishes to kick. “Harry—”
“—Nope,” he cuts off her whine, pulling her arms behind her back like he’s done it a thousand times before—he has.
“Sir,” it falls too quietly from her lips, and it’s not really the word he wanted but he’ll let it slide. 
“What? What could my darling possibly want? Hm?”
He’s being mean now. He was so sweet earlier but now he’s just mean. It makes her feel deliciously delirious but still Y/N wants to act out just on principle. But she doesn’t, because she’s a good girl, and she’s been bad enough as of late. “Please, make it better. Need you to make it better, Sir.”
“Yeah, you do. Need me,” his voice is gruff, a terse exhale as he stands up with Y/N’s thighs wrapped around his waist and lowers them both down onto the shaggy rug. It brushes against her clothes, all soft and fluffy—he can’t wait to see it swallow her naked skin. All they’re missing is a roaring fireplace.
“Need you,” she nods, agreeing, echoing his words. The heat that started to bubble up before their spontaneous nap roils fervently in her abdomen once more, crashing wave after wave against her cunt—her clit, where she’s sure she can feel her heart beating.
Harry grunts, voice deep with anticipation, “Let’s get these clothes off,” murmuring more to himself than anyone else, deft fingers already undoing the buttons of Y/N’s blouse—faster than she ever can. Her body feels heavy with fatigue, the cushioning of the rug coaxing her up and away into that fuzzy space alarmingly fast, as she watches the beautiful man above her take care over the state of her undress. He doesn’t rip and tear, he smooths and folds, kind enough to rub her arms and legs as he goes.
Y/N almost wishes he’d run ladders through her tights—though she’d be grateful he doesn’t the next day—to speed the process up and get him all pretty leaning over her. Her bare shoulders are stroked by the rug; closing her eyes almost lets her imagine she’s laying in a meadow, grass kissing her skin. And when her legs are made bare too, that’s when she remembers where she really is, and knocks her knees together like something bashful. Harry folds her tights, and her socks, and Y/N wishes she could push herself up and kiss him for it.
But then he rests his palms atop the curving joints, pulling them back open slowly to admire the sit of her knickers, pressing tight against her pussy, lips so clearly soft and swollen even through the cotton. He pushes her knees up and his grip slips down to the underside, simply looking at her for a moment or two. Y/N whines, lying there in her bra and panties and being ogled at.
“Needy, needy,” Harry tuts, dropping his hands on either side of her head and letting her knees sling over his shoulders. “Needy girl with a fussy pussy, is that right?” She stares at him dumbly, only really able to process how pretty he looks. His words pass straight through her. So he dances a hand down her chest, her stomach, palm pressing into her mound as his thumb swipes over her covered clit.
“I said, is that right?” he goads over Y/N’s gasp.
“Ye—yes. Always right, y’always right,” she babbles, cheek turning into the rug. The weight of his thumb and that tiny flick is enough to make her clit throb.
“Mm, Daddy’s always right, you’re so smart, baby.” He taps so lightly, so mockingly, with the pad of his thumb—simply feeling. It makes her jolt anyhow, so pent up—at Harry’s complete disposal like his mere presence turns her into one of Pavlov’s dogs… and it’s not her mouth that drools.
“Let me have a good look at you,” his tone doesn’t leave room for interpretation. He will have a good look at her. “Fuckin’ missed you, gorgeous’,” as he tugs the gusset of her panties to the side—hardly patient enough to remove her legs from his shoulders and spend all that time wriggling the material down. Y/N isn’t sure if he’s talking to her or her cunt. “Been hiding from me.” Harry’s eyes flit up to hers and despite the thick layer of fog that floats around her brain, Y/N still has the mind to avert her gaze—embarrassed.
She’s not been hiding. That would be childish.
“I want you to come for me, okay?” Head dipping lower and lower until Y/N can feel his breaths tickling her bare skin. “I don’t want you to stop coming.” And then he meets her cunt, tongue laving over her drippy hole but not dipping inside, dragging her arousal up and over her clit one long, big swipe. Y/N makes a much louder noise than she’d be happy about in any other circumstance, with any sense of control over her actions. But she has no power over her mouth as it cries out, legs tightening around Harry’s head already and he’s barely started a thing.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she thinks it unwise to come quickly, considering Harry’s insatiable humming against her cunt, and his unlikely proclivity to want to stop. But he’s always unravelled her overwhelmingly fast—always managed to pull an orgasm out of her without even trying.
Sweat beads at the base of her spine, hands struggling to know what to do with themselves. She rests them either side of her head, and then they flinch up and off the floor when Harry sucks her clit into his mouth, the crude sounds making the hairs on her arms stand on end. She wants to bury her digits into his soft hair and tug for stability, but she sobs out at the suction, and the pressure of a finger circling her hole, and her arms fall heavy above her head.
Her back arches, body writhing far too much for Harry to focus as his forearm falls heavily over her stomach, fingertips mindlessly rooting under the wire of her bra. He pushes the cups up and over her tits, squeezing a palmful as he goes. His right hand concentrates where it matters, middle and ring fingers nestling inside of her easily and curling just right.
Y/N sobs, hand clambering to thud over Harry’s own that plays with her breasts. She squeezes him, mouth lagging behind her brain as her orgasm races towards her. “Harry!” Head thrown back against the rug, cushioned by the soft strands. He hums, and Y/N can’t see his face but she knows he looks smug. He hums and it tips her over the edge, vibrations sizzling off of his tongue and through her clit that he sucks and drools over as his fingers pump steadily. 
And he doesn’t stop—not that Y/N had expected him to but it’s suddenly a lot harder to deal with as her cunt clenches and throbs, resigned already under his intense ministrations. “Oh my god!” Too weak to lift her head up but she tries, only to be met with Harry’s devastating, smiling eyes tracking her every movement. She falls back again, frantic hands pushing at his forehead. “Please.”
He lifts up, chin glistening and mouth a pretty pink, “Mm.” Even gulping down oxygen looks sexy when he does it. Perfectly composed, lips curled up in satisfaction. “Not done, baby. W’na make you fucking gush,” and Y/N’s face curls up in a preemptive cry as Harry hauls himself up to her and smears a dismantling kiss. Her noises are muffled, turned into new ones with the feel of his mouth on hers, the taste on his tongue that he so generously shares, rubbing against hers like it might make her orgasm again.
A creeping hand wraps around her throat, the other still dedicated to the slick place between her thighs and the pressure makes Y/N’s lashes flutter, brows tugging towards the centre of her face. Harry smiles above her, serious about his word—he wants to make her gush around him, his index finger teasing the side of his middle that rubs so deliciously against the front of Y/N’s walls—pinky slapping lewdly in the crease of her thigh with every thrust in and out.
“I can’t,” she swallows, tough to talk with the weight of Harry’s palm against her neck.
“Yeahhh, you can,” he’s sure of it. Too cocky but Y/N’s cunt doesn’t seem to mind, clenching as though it wants to keep Harry’s fingers inside of her forever. “My good girl, yeah? Gonna get me all wet, aren’t ya.” Her jaw slackens, trembling fingers curling around his wrist as he digs into the sides of her neck and his fingers work tirelessly. 
“Daddy! Pl—ple—oh!” Nothing very intelligible tumbles from her lips, mouth wide with eyes to match, rendered statuesquely still with the pleasure that overwhelms. And then she starts trembling, every curl of Harry’s fingers making her abdomen coil tighter and tighter. “Ah—I—” Every pulse makes him all the more confident, unfurling his hand from around her neck to trail southwards and rub disrespectfully across her clit.
Y/N doesn’t know what to do—the pressure builds—it’s all consuming and overpowering, she wants to thrash and scream and run from the feeling. But she also wants to dive head first into it and spend the rest of her days there.
“Hey, look at me. Look at me, sweetheart—good girl,” their eyes lock and it makes it so much worse. He pushes into her button with tantalising precision, circling and pinching, leaning over to spit a filthy string of saliva onto the mess she’s already made. “Come, baby. Make a mess all over me,” his green eyes are so void of iris, black pupils large enough to reflect Y/N’s own image as he groans, “You can do that, can’t you?”
Everything’s upside down, she shakes her head when she should be nodding because it’s all too much and she’s crying as it happens, a tiny gush pushing out from around Harry’s fingers as he fucks her through it, moaning alongside her sobs. She soaks his shorts and drips down the insides of her thighs—shaking with enough force to displace Harry’s hand as her orgasm lingers for longer than she’s ever known.
Harry dips down and mouths over her empty hole, desperate to make her even wetter, lapping at her arousal like he may never get the chance to do so again. “Atta—fucking—girl,” not moving back for a second, words muffled. “Did so well. I knew you would.”
And he doesn’t fucking stop.
Y/N’s body aches lusciously when she gets up. She feels heavy and thick like honeycomb, and waking up with Harry’s thick biceps caging her in—the rise and fall of his chest against her back serving as the perfect metronome—had been so sorely missed she could’ve cried tears of relief.
In her delirium of the night previous, she’d failed to process the sounds of Harry on the phone, making the executive decision that she was too sick to come in. He only reminded her when she tried to wriggle out of his immovable grip to get ready. But then Harry’s own alarm had gone off and she was trailing behind him to the bathroom anyway, eyes shaped like hearts and her invisible tail curling around his legs.
Despite her best attempts, he hadn’t let her wrap her silky palms around him whilst they showered—endeared smile making her flush irregardless of their bare skin brushing against one another. 
She watches him get dressed, and watches each chew and swallow of his breakfast, resting her head in the palm of her hand like a true renaissance vision. And then she remembers something she’s been meaning to let him know, foggy head stumbling over a few words as she tries to piece them together.
“Um, Harry?”
He smiles to himself at the sound of her ambivalence. She sits next to him at the kitchen island with the most adorable crinkle in her nose. “Yes?”
“Uhh…” apparently her fingers are suddenly extremely fascinating. “I’m going on a long weekend trip with Niall on Friday. Is… is that okay?”
“Yeah, yes, of course that’s okay.” He frowns, “Have I ever made you feel like it wasn’t?”
She jumps, twitching on her stool like a fretful mouse. “No! No, I’m sorry, no you haven’t. I don’t know why—”
“You’re alright,” he knocks his knuckle under her chin affectionately. “You want some help packing?”
God, yes. “Would you mind?” She hates packing.
Harry could already make that assumption for himself—starting to imagine a scene of her sitting pretty on her bed, cross-legged, whilst he does it all for her. “Not at all,” tipping his head back to swig the rest of his coffee before leaning over to press a wet kiss to her cheek. 
Y/N can’t help but giggle. “Thanks,” and then she starts twitching again, with giddiness this time, hands coming out in front of her as she gestures. “I’ll make you that curry you like for dinner. Ready for you when you walk through the door, I promise!” She grins all beautifully and it makes Harry’s heart stutter in his chest—the elation on her face, the excitement. He kisses her again, pasting a few pecks to the corner of her mouth. “I promise,” as she turns to catch his lips with a smile, hands clenching into happy fists against his warm chest.
“Have a good day, sweetheart. No tears, yeah?”
She nods bashfully, following him to the front door. “No tears.”
1K notes · View notes
goldengalore · 1 year
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Rough Day
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Summary: For Harry, nothing makes up for a bad day better than rough sex. Luckily, he has his friend Y/N to help out with that.
Word count: 2.1k
Warnings: smut (friends with benefits, mean dom!harry, degradation, bondage, spanking w hands and belt, choking, oral, anal, use of ball gag and butt plug)
***
Harry slams the door behind him as he enters Y/N’s apartment. He texted her earlier to ask if he could come over. His message alluded to the possibility of rough play, which Y/N could hardly ever refuse. As soon as he arrives, she can sense the irritability radiating off of him. It shouldn’t excite her this much—her friend being in a crappy mood—but it does.
“Hey,” she greets him, sitting up on the couch where she’s been indulging in some online shopping for the past hour.
He just hums in response and drops his duffle bag on the floor before removing his shoes, coat, and gloves.
“Rough day?” she asks, studying him.
“You have no idea,” he mutters.
“Wanna talk about it?”
“Not really.”
Of course he doesn’t. Harry doesn’t like to talk at the end of a bad day. He likes to fuck. Without holding back.
Glancing at her, he says, “Wait there.” Then he picks up his bag and heads into her bedroom. A minute later, he emerges from the room without the bag and strides over to her.
“Up,” he says, as if he were instructing a dog.
“Okay.” She sighs and takes her time getting off the couch to avoid seeming too eager, even though on the inside, she’s ready to do just about anything he tells her.
Once she’s on her feet, he simply says, “Clothes off.”
Again, she dawdles while pulling her sweatshirt off and fumbles with the waistband of her shorts, lazily inching them down her legs. Harry releases an impatient sigh.
“Today, Y/N.”
“Okay, okay!” She quickly removes the rest of her clothes.
The path his eyes take as they trail down her bare body sends the blood rushing between her legs. He steps closer and places his mouth over hers. His hands rest on her hips for a mere second before sliding to her backside. He squeezes it firmly, his fingers digging into the flesh of her round cheeks and pulling her body upward. She rises up on her toes and clutches his shoulders for balance. His teeth bite into her bottom lip. He tugs her even closer until her naked body is flush against his clothed one.
The kiss ends abruptly, leaving her wanting more. All of a sudden, he lifts her off the ground and slings her over his shoulder like she weighs nothing at all. Her upper body hangs behind him, her ass in the air.
“What are you—?” she starts, but he lands a swift smack to her rear, ordering her to be quiet.
He carries her to the bedroom and tosses her on the bed, not bothering with gentleness, then flips her onto her stomach. While she finds her bearings, he bends down to grab something from his bag, which is sitting on the floor next to the bed.
A moment later, her wrists are pulled behind her back and cuffed together. His hands wrap around her ankles and yank her towards him until she’s bent over the edge of the bed with her feet on the floor. She hears the clink of his belt buckle behind her.
It all happens so fast. One moment, he’s rubbing the tip of his cock over her entrance, and the next, his entire length is inside her. No warning. No preamble. A strangled moan escapes her mouth.
“So fucking wet,” he growls, grabbing on to her hips. “You like being manhandled and tossed around like a ragdoll?”
He doesn’t wait for her to answer before ramming his cock into her again. Usually, he’ll start slow and build up to a hard and fast pace, but today, he seems overcome by a primal desperation—one that has probably been festering inside him all day. She can barely keep up, but that makes it all the more exhilarating.
One hand pins her bound wrists to her lower back, keeping her in place, while the other grips her hair and yanks her head backwards, forcing her to arch her back. He finishes fast, emptying deep inside of her cunt, grunting and moaning with relief. She looks over her shoulder at him.
“That’s it? I didn’t even come,” she says just to egg him on.
He grabs a fistful of her hair again and speaks lowly into her ear, “What makes you think I give a fuck about your pleasure, hm? Sluts like you don’t deserve to come.”
He releases her hair and pulls out. Some of his come leaks down her inner thigh. Through the corner of her eye, she sees him reach down towards his bag. And then something cool and hard pokes between her legs. He presses the object into her slit, twisting it around, dousing it in her arousal and his come. It’s a plug, she realizes. A rather large one.
Once it’s covered in a mix of their fluids, he uses his free hand to spread apart her cheeks and starts inserting the plug into her tightest hole. He doesn’t really take his time. The rounded tip goes in, then the rest of it is hastily crammed into her. They’ve been doing this long enough that it slides in easily, but she still squirms and whines at the discomfort.
“Oh, stop whining,” he snaps. “It’s not even that big. You’ve had bigger things in your ass before.”
She scowls at him over her shoulder. “Well, if you think it’s so easy, why don’t you try shoving one up your own ass?”
He retaliates with a harsh spank.
“Ow!”
“Bold of you to talk back to me from the extremely vulnerable position you’re in right now,” he threatens, and the effects of his words are felt right between her legs.
He grabs something else from his bag, then tells her to open her mouth before shoving a ball gag in there. He secures the leather strap behind her head.
“That’s better,” he says. “Should’ve done that ten minutes ago. Only thing your mouth is good for is sucking me off anyway. Isn’t that right?”
All she can do is glare at him with the gag in her mouth.
“Glad you agree, love,” he says with a cocky smirk.
A soft, plushy object is placed in her hand—the squeaky toy they use in place of the safeword when she’s bound and gagged. Then he folds his belt in half and gently glides the cool leather over her bum. As soon as he raises the belt, she tenses and screws her eyes shut, bracing herself for the first strike. When it doesn’t come, she relaxes a bit and opens one eye, falling for the same trick he’s used on her countless times.
The belt smacks against her ass. She cries out. A second smack makes her knees buckle, dragging her down a bit.
“Stay still,” he orders.
It’s a good thing she’s gagged because she definitely would’ve answered back with a snarky comment and made things worse for herself.
He whips her with the belt several times in a row. Her ass clenches around the plug each time. He pauses only briefly to run his hands over the bright red marks now decorating her backside, like an artist proudly inspecting his work. And then he’s back to belting her, occasionally aiming for the backs of her thighs. There’s no doubt that sitting will be a challenge tomorrow.
Tears stain the sheets beneath her while her cunt drips with arousal, the pain cathartic and excruciating at the same time. She comes somewhere between the punishing blows, too lost in the pleasure to keep count.
He eventually stops and tosses the belt aside, telling her to get up on the bed. It’s a little awkward with her hands cuffed behind her, but she manages anyway. Once again, he yanks her around like a doll until he has her in his desired position: lying on her back with her head hanging off the edge of the bed. Her hands are trapped under her but still free enough to squeak the toy if needed. He removes the gag from her mouth and instantly replaces it with his hard cock.
“Let’s put that whore mouth to good use,” he says as he begins fucking her mouth the same way he fucked her pussy earlier.
His tip connects with the back of her throat over and over, his large hands clawing at her breasts. He pinches and tugs at her nipples hard enough to make her body arch off the bed. Then he brings a hand to the front of her neck, squeezing it while his hips continue thrusting into her mouth. She presses her thighs together tightly.
Just when she thinks he’s going to come down her throat, he pulls out. She gasps for air. Finally, he takes off his own clothes and joins her on the bed, flipping her over onto her stomach. He uncuffs her wrists and cuffs them above her head instead, then lifts her up onto her knees and forearms.
She feels him tug on the base of the butt plug, fucking her with it a little before taking it out. He squirts a generous amount of lube between her cheeks and begins driving his cock into her ass but doesn’t get further than a couple inches. She’s too tense. It always seems to happen despite how many times they’ve done this.
“Gonna have to relax for me, love,” he says in the softest tone she’s heard him use all night. His hand caresses her lower back. He can be a dick sometimes, but he’s shockingly aware of when she needs a gentle touch.
“Give me a minute,” she says, steadying her breathing before telling him to continue.
He pushes in a bit more, then draws back and pushes in again, going a little deeper every time. Once the tightness in her muscles eases, he slides all the way in and holds himself there.
“Fuck,” she groans. “Fuck me.”
“Beg.”
Her mind is so muddled by the intense sensation of her hole stretching around his cock that she almost doesn’t hear the word.
“Huh?”
“Beg me to fuck your ass,” he demands.
That bastard.
“Fuck you,” she replies, though it comes out as more of a whine than an insult.
“I’m not moving an inch until you beg.” He grips her hips tightly to ensure that she can’t move either.
She doesn’t want to give in so quickly, doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction. But as much as she hates to admit it, Harry’s dick makes her weak. And the worst part is he knows it too.
“Please, H, please fuck me. Your cock feels so good in my ass. I need you to fuck me hard and not hold back. Just— Fuck! Just use me for your pleasure. Please.”
Finally, Harry’s hips start moving. He retracts them, then thrusts forward sharply. She cries out in surprise and relief. He starts pounding into her. Quick, sharp thrusts. One after another. With little pause in between. She would reach down and rub her clit if her wrists weren’t bound together. Fortunately, Harry has the same thought. His hand finds her clit, rubbing it in fast circles to speed up her orgasm.
She feels it crash over her moments later, igniting in her core and spreading outward to her limbs. Harry continues fucking her through it, not slowing down for a second. He tells her he’s going to come in her ass, calling her his good little cumslut and his perfect little fucktoy and every filthy word in the book, becoming more and more incoherent until he finally lets go with a deep groan.
Rolling over onto the bed, he frees her wrists and tosses the cuffs to the side, not caring where they land. Y/N lets her knees give out under her and falls onto her stomach with a soft thud. She closes her eyes. A while later, his fingertips graze the back of her shoulder.
“Hey,” he says softly, “you good?”
She opens her eyes and grins. “Yup.”
“Wasn’t too rough, was I?”
“You know that’s how I like it.”
A pleased sigh leaves his lips. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing the stray curls off his damp forehead.
“Thanks for letting me come over,” he says. “I really needed that.”
“Aww, you needed me?” she teases, knowing how much he despises the idea of “needing” anyone.
He scoffs and looks away, but not before Y/N can notice the blush creeping into his cheeks.
“You wish,” he grumbles.
“Whatever you say, tough guy.”
***
Thank you for reading!  MASTERLIST
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0oolookitsme · 5 months
Text
Daddy of Three
Type - A One Shot again!
Verse - Footballer!Harry x Art Director!Y/n
Word Count - 2.2k
Warnings - None that I can find! (other than the fact that this is pure smut ofc)
A/n - Lowkey hate the title (you will too when you find out the context) but I just hope you enjoy this hahah <3
Kinks - Daddy kink, Face Fucking, Breeding Kink, Praise Kink.
KINKTOBER MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST
Please rb to share!
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Y/n was chopping up the vegetables she'd need for the meal she was going to cook tomorrow morning for Harry and Karan's lunch. Her eyes remained on her iPad's screen, on which she could see the page Carla was presenting in the meeting.
Clicking on the little mic icon by her knuckle, she unmuted herself. "Marla, don't you think that we should use red and yellow undertones? It's going to be a violent and a sad scene, I think it would work better," she said, not exactly agreeing with her idea of using green undertones.
"I agree," a few people wrote in the chat.
"But ma'am, we probably wouldn't have as much screen time for that scene. Plus, we have a scene inside the hotel's bathroom after that, which they tell us would give off green hues," Marla said, sliding photos till the bathroom set was on the screen.
Y/n hummed, laughing at how she'd absolutely forgotten about that. "Then I'd say that we do put green undertones but less. We need the switch between the scenes to be slightly puzzling – nothing like 'what the hell are they doing in the bathroom now' though," she said, making the other woman laugh and other people text the laughing emojis.
They agreed on trying the directory for the same the next day, and planned out a few more things before bidding goodbyes. Right at that time, Harry and Karan also got up from the couch as the show they were watching just ended.
"Are you done?" Harry asked her, walking behind Karan who seemed to be growing taller and taller everyday. It still mesmerized her, the resemblance between the two – same green eyes, same curly hair, same nose. Only his mouth matched with hers, other than that, he was a ditto copy of Harry.
"Yes," Y/n groaned while getting up, stretching the moment she was on her feet while taking a big yawn. "Not really, just a bit tired from all the screen time," she said when Harry asked her if she was feeling sleepy.
"Serve the dinner, will you? I just quickly need to wind my stuff up." She looked at Harry with pleading and slightly guilty eyes, kissing the corner of her mouth once he mumbled an 'of course.'
"Don't take too much time, though!" He yelled as she hurried up the stairs.
Karan climbed up in his chair on his own with a bit of struggle. He'd finally grown tall enough to be able to sit on the main dinner table, but still he needed a taller chair to sit on.
"Look at you going, already a big boy," Harry grinned at the little one, who was about to turn four this year. A breathy chuckle escaped his mouth when the boy's ears turned pink, he was born a shy persona but that never deterred him from speaking up when he wanted to.
Y/n watched from atop as Harry talked to Karan about the show they were just watching. It had shown some wild animals tonight, from what she could hear. She couldn't help but swoon a little bit on the inside as Karan climbed down the chair with a bit of grunting and helped Harry serve the table.
"Bring me a glass, please," Harry asked the kid just because he was eager to help. "Thank you," he appreciated him once the glass was on the table.
"Y/n –" Harry was about to call for her when he saw her watching him from the doorframe of their room. "C'mon, what are you waiting for?" He laughed, feeling a tad bit of shyness creep up on him when he realized that she'd been watching him.
They've known each other since childhood yet she still manages to turn his ears pink by just her gaze – it was yet another trait that Karan got from Harry.
"Could watch you be a baby daddy all day long. Just makes me feel so hot," she whispered in his ears, grinning when he slapped her bum sneakily.
"Did you tell daddy about the puzzle we solved today?" Y/n asked Karan and melted on the inside when his eyes lit up and he sat upright, suddenly excited and eager to tell Harry all about it.
And Karan's energized talking about the animals was how they spent their time eating dinner. Talking about Karan's puzzle, Harry's practice routine for the next day and Y/n's plans for visiting the set for a run-through were some add-ons in the talk here and there. Once they'd finished, Y/n took Karan up to his room to read him one of his nightly-stories, and lull him to sleep – it was Harry's turn to do the dishes tonight.
The toddler was extra tired today. He'd had football practice for a small upcoming match in his school, solved a lot of math problems and a whole puzzle in one day. So, it only took about four paragraphs of the story in the calming voice of his mother for him to pass out.
Y/n climbed down the stairs as silently as she could and pressed a feather-light kiss on Harry's neck, who didn't get scared in the slightest – probably because he heard her jam her toe in the leg of the dining table.
Harry hummed to acknowledge her presence, loading the last plate into the dishwasher. She stood back patiently, and once he was done, Harry turned around and leaned his bottom on the kitchen counter with his arms crossed in front of his chest.
Then, y/n leaned in to press a chaste kiss onto his lips.
"Mm, someone's feeling needy," he smirked when she pulled back, pulling her in again by her waist when she nodded. "What do you need, love?" Harry asked her, pecking her lips again with a soft smile on his mouth.
"Need to taste you, daddy – been so long," she mumbled, slowly and slowly relaxing into his body.
He continued tracing the outline of her lips, "Is that so?" He asked again, and when she nodded he released her lower lip from under the weight of his thumb, watching it rise back to its place.
"Then we'll put that mouth of yours to a good use," he rasped, reaching for her mouth again as he slid one of his hands on the back of her head, pulling her hair back to give him space to litter her neck in kisses.
When her mouth met his skin, she left open-mouthed kisses on it and bit on a few spots before Harry started pushing her down on her knees. Once she was down, she pulled down his sweats on his command and watched as his cock stood up, already hard. She spit on her palm, lubricating his length as she stroked him.
"Hands behind your back," Harry told her, and started lowering her head on his length when she took him in his mouth. "Fuck," he breathed, watching her as he pushed her lower and lower on him slowly.
He cherished the feeling of her warm mouth on him, and when she reached his base, he let out a groan as the feeling of his tip touching the very back of her throat.
Y/n could taste his salty pre-cum that had started to leak from his slit. It would've been more convenient for her if she could've placed her hands on his thighs, but somehow, this position was only making her panties wetter.
When Harry asked her if she was ready to go, she quickly showed him a thumbs up before holding her wrist behind her back again.
Slowly and slowly, Harry started bringing her head back and forth by his grip on her hair. Her lips wrapped around him felt every vien as he brought her head up till his reddened tip. She managed to take a lick at his slit before he brought her down again, faster this time.
Now, her head was bobbing faster on his cock and with the way her saliva was starting to dribble down her chin, she could feel him pulsing in mouth as she hollowed out her cheeks when she hit the base.
She gagged a bit when Harry pushed in till the back of throat. And then, he quickened the pace.
He held her head in one place as she tried to swallow some of his arosual fucked into her mouth, the sounds of her gagging filling the kitchen. "Fuck- you're doing so well, darling," Harry moaned above her, creating a pace again – his eyes unable to move from the sight of strings of her saliva and his arousal moving with each bob of her head.
He fucked her mouth with a fast pace, his tips dragging along her tongue before hitting the back of her throat with each thrust. "Jesus- fuck," he choked, his hold on her head getting tighter as he began ruthlessly fucking into her mouth.
"Breath from your nose, baby," Harry told her, continuing to thrust his cock deep down her throat by now. She started gurgling on her own saliva and his precum, her arms starting to ache as tears leaked out of her eyes and she clenched around nothing, her pussy feeling like it were ready to be pounded.
"Oh lord," he grunted, slowing down his pace just when Y/n thought he was close to releasing down her throat, he brushed his hand through her hair.
Gradually, Harry pulled out of her mouth and just when she was beginning to think that something had gone wrong, Harry helped her get up on her legs.
She stumbled a bit, her legs a bit numb, and knees hurting because of the hard floor. She freed her arms then as well, holding onto his biceps as she balanced herself.
"Fuck you're such a wreck," Harry breathed, wiping away at her damp skin – not able to tell the difference between her tears and her sweat. "And because of me too," he chuckled, brushing her hair back as she caught up with her breath.
"C'mon, wanted to come down your throat, but I need something else more than that right now," Harry said as he picked her up bridal style in his arms, the veins in his biceps popping out.
"What is it?"
"Need to feel your pussy, darling."
When Harry dropped her on their bed, she immediately got up on her elbows, her knees touching but feet wide apart. "Fill me up, daddy? Want another baby," she whispered, looking at him through her lashes.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Harry groaned, climbing up on the bed while stroking himself. "Fucking hell – 'course I will," he told her as he sat back on his calves in front of her. "Gonna make me daddy of three, aren't you -- since you clear need one at all times, as well?" Harry teased her.
"Open your legs for me, wanna see ya." Y/n did as Harry told her and he swiped his middle finger through her folds, realizing that she was already soaking wet, ready to take him.
"Gonna give you all my babies, darling. Gonna fill you up to the brim and get you pregnant again," he rasped, lining himself against her hole, wetting his tip. "Fuckin' missed watching your belly swell up with a baby – my baby, " he said while watching himself disappear inside her pussy.
Beginning to thrust into her, Harry's hand came to knead one of her boobs. "Need to see you breastfeed a little one again – see those leaking nipples," he choked out, so turned on that he already felt close to climaxing.
"Gonna come for daddy, love?" Harry cooed at her, feeling her thighs begin to shake around his hips already. "Give it to y' husband."
Y/n lied there under him, shaking and moaning as the knot in her belly moved lower and lower. "Gonna cum- fuck –" she coughed, shaking harder as her skin felt like it was on fire when Harry started rubbing her clit.
"Come for Daddy, darling. Doing so good," Harry praised her, increasing his pace as he felt his own balls tighten. As he thumbed tighter and faster circles on her sensitive bundle of nerves, he felt her walls clenching around him.
"So good for me, so fuckin' good around me – fucking made for me," Harry grunted, feeling like he was going to combust.
"Co-coming daddy – O-Oh I'm cuming fuck-" Y/n stuttered, her back arching as Harry fucked into her pussy mercilessly. She could feel him pulsing inside her, and once he hit her g-spot again, she felt like she had been electricuted as she came on his cock.
Her cum went everywhere as Harry continued fucking into her, the bed creaking under his pace. "So good for daddy, look how much you came," he chuckled breathlessly, looking down where she had soaked him and the mattress, white strings of her cum sticking to his base.
Y/n intionally cleanched around him again, lying fucked out of her mind and breathless.
"Good girl- that's a good fucking girl," Harry cursed before he shot ropes of his cum deep in her pussy. Ramming into her pussy until she had milked him dry, he finally stopped when some of his cum started spilling out of her.
"Gonna fill you up again, make sure I put a baby in you," Harry told her as he wiped sweat off his forehead – grinning down at her when she hooked her arms under her knees, giving him full access to her pussy.
"Daddy's gonna give it to you good, sweet girl," Harry said gleefully, laughing when Y/n managed to swat at his chest.
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anxieteeeaa · 1 year
Text
BAD IDEA
baby you’re a bad idea, i could do a few more years (based off the song bad idea by dove. cameron)
WARNINGS : cheating, consensual- non-consensual, fwb, dom!harry/ sub!reader, cream pie, fingering, degradation, exhibitionism, humiliation, condescension, name calling, etc.
BARE WITH ME I HAVEN’T WROTE A FIC IN YEARS LMAO
The music could be heard from blocks away. this was the biggest halloween party in town. Everyone was going to be there. Y/n and her boyfriend Ryan parked a few blocks down from the house due to how packed it was, the bass of the music bumping in there car as he reversed into his spot.
Reapplying her lipstick and taking one last selfie with Ryan, she adjusted her skirt and did a double take before stepping out of the car once he had opened it for her. “Thank you.” She grinned and stepped out with a smile “Anything for the Pirate Queen” he tipped his hat before shutting the door. “We do look great I have to admit.” he stated as he did a once over at their outfits. Y/n hummed in agreement and held his hand as they made their way to the party.
Her heart thumped in her chest as they came closer to the house, realizing how many people there really were. Granted, she’s a people person, but not when it comes to the entire city being here. Stepping inside you could feel the music in your body. The bass was high, the air smelled like weed and different flavors or nicotine. “I’m gonna go get us some drinks, you wanna find us somewhere to sit?” Ryan questioned as he pressed a kiss on her forehead. She nodded in agreement before pushing through the crowd to find a spot. She finally found the perfect spot, not too close to the music, yet not away from the crowd. She made herself comfortable and sat on her phone while she waited for her partner to return.
“Fancy seeing you here puppy”
I've got a little left in here, funny how you reappear
She recognized that voice anywhere. Her chest tightened and she chose to ignore him and focus on her phone.
“I know you heard me puppy. Look up at me.” She immediately obeyed, examining his costume that he had chosen. It was his girlfriend’s idea for her friends to come in matching couples costumes. And let’s just say Harry definitely nailed it.
“Why bother me? Don’t you have some toy to go fuck around with!” She sassed as she got up to look for her boyfriend only to be pushed back down. “ No need for the attitude puppy. Just the two of us right now.” He stroked her chin with delicacy before grabbing her throat. “Next time you speak to me like that I won’t be so nice. Understood?” She didn’t respond.
He squeezed her throat harder. “I said, Do you understand puppy?” He gritted his teeth as he waited for a response. She nodded her head as she struggled for air. “I guess you aren’t so dumb after all” he let her go before dragging her outside onto the patio. She tried to protest, only for him to shove her onto the ledge and tear a whole in the center of her stockings. “You think you can just come to my party dressed up like some whore and get away with it?” He spanked her ass waiting for a response. “You think just because you have that pretty little boy you too don’t belong to me?” He chuckled as she struggled to respond. “Cowgirl” she choked out. “I’m a cowgirl” she sobbed as he spanked her once more.
He roughly yanked her hair back and brought her towards one of the chairs. “Well then.” He unbuckled his pants with one hand, the other holding a firm grip on her hand and made himself comfortable. “Since you’re a cowgirl, why don’t you show me what a proper ride looks, hm?”
She was soaking wet and the thought of Harry manhandling her just made her clench. “Go on puppy” he tutted “I don’t have all day, unless you want your pretty little boyfriend to come out here and see you on my cock.” He smirked, causing a whimper to release her throat as she straddled him and slowly began to sink down on his cock.
I know I shouldn't do it, but I'm gonna do it. See exactly where i’m shouldn’t go, i’m running to it.
I been trying out the high road, and I hate it. I’ve got a lot of sins but you’re my favorite.
“That’s my good girl” He groaned out as she began to rock her hips against his cock. He was perfectly snug and could feel his tip bumping against her womb. “Such a good puppy. You know how Daddy likes you to ride his cock.” He choked out as he ripped her top open, firm hands fondling her breast. A gasp escaped her lips as she felt herself become even wetter at her words. “Better shut your mouth puppy.” He cooed. “Someone might hear you screaming my name. We wouldn’t want that know would we?” He knew she didn’t care, nobody could fuck her like Harry could.
And I know you’re performing, but it’s working for me. We can talk about it in the morning
“Please” she sobbed as she swirled her hips. She needed him to fuck her like she deserved. She needed to cum.
“Please what puppy? You want me to fuck you like the filthy little whore you are? Fuck you like I own this pussy of yours?” She let out a wet moan as he placed her feet down on the ground and started fucking up into her. “Awe. You’re just creaming all over my cock puppy.” He chucked. “I bet your boyfriend can’t fuck you like this uuu. That’s why you always come back to daddy so you he can take care of you. Isn’t that right you filthy whore.” She held onto his shoulders as she let herself be fucked into another dimension.
“Did you hear that? I think someone’s coming? Better be quiet puppy.” He cooed as he flipped her over and took her from behind. She covered her mouth as her stomach bubbled. “Y/n?” Her boyfriend called. “Are you out there?” They heard footsteps coming closer but neither one of them spoke. Her mouth dropped open as her orgasm was at it’s peak. Before she could come the footsteps faded and were soon no longer heard. “Say cheese puppy” Harry snickered as he pulled out her phone and took a picture, quickly hitting send under her boyfriends contact.
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“Oh fuck.” Y/n felt like her body was on fire, her orgasm gushing out as Harry filled her with him hot cum. Giving both of them a minute to breathe, he slowly placed her on her back. “Never forget.” He sighed. “I own you.” He placed her legs on his shoulders and took another.
“Fuck it, let’s do it again”
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stylesloveclub · 1 year
Text
Pleasing Masterlist
˙· .° 。  ˚ 。  ° . · ˚ ˙ · . ° 。 ˚ 。  �� . · ˙ · .° 。 ˚ 。 °.  · ˙ ‧̍̊  
Pleasing - part 1
In which y/n is a broke waitress, and Harry is a Michelin star chef who thinks she’s cuter than a puppy. 
Pleasing - part 2
In which y/n has a crush on her boss, and Harry still thinks she’s cuter than a puppy.
Pleasing (sp*nking blurb)
In which Harry goes on a business trip to Milan, and y/n misses him a lot. 
Pleasing (jealous blurb)
In which another waiter flirts with y/n, and Harry gets really jealous.
Pleasing (stressed blurb)
In which y/n is really stressed with school, and harry just wants to take care of her. 
Pleasing (grumpy h blurb)
In which Harry's acting kinda grumpy, and y/n helps him... destress. :)
Pleasing (vday blurb)
In which Harry takes y/n out for valentines day and y/n gets a bit handsy when she’s drunk.
Pleasing (thigh riding blurb) 
In which y/n is sleepy after a long shift and accidentally starts rubbing against Harry's thigh, and Harry loves his needy girl and wants her to sit on his face! 
concepts tag! (i will organize all of our concepts one day but that day is not today) 
˙· .° 。  ˚ 。  ° . · ˚ ˙ · . ° 。 ˚ 。  ° . · ˙ · .° 。 ˚ 。 °.  · ˙ ‧̍̊  
2K notes · View notes