#harry styles mature one shot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ijustmissyouraccenths · 4 days

Text

I Want To Kill Her (Part 2)

Au where Y/N and Harry are neighbors who find out their spouses are cheating with each other.

Based off Fortnight by Taylor Swift

Part 1

CW: Smut, cursing, unprotected sex, emotional abuse.

Word Count: 10,085

The months following the gut-wrenching discovery of Teddy's affair were a chaotic storm of emotions and turmoil. The idea of my spouse, the person I trusted most in this world, being unfaithful was unbearable. But without any concrete evidence, doubt enveloped me like a thick fog, suffocating me as I struggled to regain my footing. Though I desperately wanted to believe he wasn't cheating, the blatant signs and whispers from those around us made it impossible to deny the painful truth.

Rage and heartbreak battle within me as I struggle to forgive Teddy, to find a way to salvage our relationship. But each attempt is met with the painful memories of his infidelity, burning like acid through my veins. I'm terrified of losing my British citizenship, my sense of identity and belonging, if I leave him. And even worse, I dread the thought of calling my family and confessing the truth - that not only did Teddy betray me with another woman, but in some sick twisted way, I am also to blame. My family adored him like a son, and he gave me a life beyond my wildest dreams. How could I ever reconcile these conflicting emotions?

Harry's sudden decision to divorce Rosie sent shockwaves through the once peaceful fortress of their home. In just a week, he had packed his bags and walked away, leaving behind a cold and empty shell that was now up for sale. As new potential buyers roamed the halls, I couldn't help but feel a sense of betrayal from Harry's abrupt departure. The last time I saw him was in a dingy motel room, where we spent a desperate night together before he vanished without a trace. His disappearance was calculated and cruel, fueled by his seemingly endless wealth and power. Meanwhile, I was left with nothing but uncertainty and the option to return home to Florida. But Harry's resentment only grew as I hesitated to make a final decision. He wanted me to walk away with no regrets, but real life is messy and complicated - far from the neat and tidy ending he desired.

I was trapped in a prison of a house, held captive by a man who claimed to love me but had truly only created a tangled web of chaos and pain. We forced ourselves into therapy every week, desperate to salvage something from the wreckage he had caused. But even after all the sessions, I still felt like I was drowning in the suffocating grip of his selfishness. It was never enough, and I could feel my sanity slipping away with each passing day.

Evenings rolled into nights and days blurred into months. Each moment seemed agonizingly long as I begged time to fly quicker, to wash away the stale taste of betrayal and deception from my existence. The house that once echoed with laughter and love now felt eerily silent, its walls whispering Teddy's betrayal during the quietest hours. My heart ached in ways I never knew possible, each pulse a reminder of the pain he had caused.

In a bid for relief, I threw myself into cooking elaborate meals, organising closets, watering the drooping plants Teddy had once loved. Yet every activity was tainted with the memory of him - his laughter rings in my mind as I repeat chores we used to do together. It was a desperate plight to keep myself sane amidst the storm that threatened to break me down.

Teddy's unfaithfulness took its toll on my spirit, but Harry's abandonment shattered me entirely. I played over our last night together again and again in my mind. There was something feral about that night; lust mixed with desperation and an underlying tone of finality. He left without any explanation, disappearing like a ghost only leaving behind the faint scent of his cologne and a raw wound that refused to heal.

The cracks were beginning to show. Laughter seemed forced, smiles rarely reached my eyes. The weekly therapy sessions felt more like an interrogation than relief, talks of my own explicit night replaying session after session. Hours spent scrutinizing every detail of our dysfunctional relationship only amplified my misery. Every shared secret, every stolen glance, every whispered promise – all now seemed meaningless and distorted under the harsh scrutiny of reality.

In the end, it was not Teddy who broke me; it was me who had allowed myself to be broken by him. My judgment clouded by love hindered me from seeing the man he truly was – a master manipulator cloaked in charm and charisma. The truth was painful to accept but liberating in its own cruel way. I was no longer in denial. I was no longer the woman who would bend over backwards to accommodate the whims of unfaithful men. I was stronger than my heartbreak, stronger than their deceit. And most importantly, I learned the toughest lesson of my life – not all love is meant to be cherished; sometimes, it's better left discarded.

As I sat in the therapist's office, the stark white walls closing in around me, my voice cracked as I attempted to verbalize the turmoil within me. "I just don't understand how it got to this point," I admitted, tears threatening to spill over.

Dr. Richards leaned forward, her gentle gaze meeting mine with empathy. "It sounds like you've been through a lot of pain and betrayal," she said softly. "But remember, healing begins with acknowledging the truth."

I nodded, wiping away a stray tear that escaped down my cheek. "I know, but it's so hard to let go of everything that was once so real to me."

Dr. Richards offered a kind smile. "It's okay to feel that way. It's all a part of the process." She paused before continuing, "Have you considered what you need to do to move forward from this?"

I took a deep breath, the weight of the question settling heavily on my shoulders. "I... I think I need to start by forgiving myself for allowing this to happen. For not seeing the signs sooner."

The words hung in the air between us, heavy with unspoken pain and regret. Dr. Richards reached out and placed a comforting hand on mine. "Forgiveness is a powerful tool, both for yourself and for others," she said gently.

I closed my eyes, trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. "But how do I forgive someone who shattered me into a million pieces?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Dr. Richards' voice was steady and reassuring as she replied, "Forgiveness doesn't mean forgetting or excusing their actions. It means releasing the hold they have over your heart and mind."

As I sat there, grappling with the weight of forgiveness, a million thoughts raced through my mind. Dr. Richards' words lingered like a balm on my wounded soul, but the path to healing still seemed daunting.

"I understand that forgiveness is crucial, but how do I even begin to untangle the mess he left behind?" I asked, my voice wavering with uncertainty.

Dr. Richards leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. "It's a process, one step at a time," she said gently. "Start by acknowledging your pain and allowing yourself to feel it without judgment."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I nodded, the emotions swirling inside me threatening to spill over. "It's just so hard to let go of the anger and hurt," I confessed.

She nodded in understanding. "Anger is a natural response to betrayal, but holding onto it only prolongs your pain. Remember, forgiveness is not for his benefit, but for yours."

Her words struck a chord deep within me, resonating with a truth I had been avoiding. "I want to move forward, but I don't know where to begin," I admitted, feeling lost in the sea of my own emotions.

Dr. Richards reached for a tissue and handed it to me with a gentle smile. "Start by being gentle with yourself," she advised. "Forgiveness is a gift you give yourself, a release from the burden of carrying someone else's actions."

I took the tissue gratefully, wiping away my tears as her words sank in. "I never thought of it that way," I murmured, feeling a glimmer of hope amidst the pain.

She gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "You are stronger than you realize. Forgiveness is not about condoning what he did; it's about setting yourself free from his grip on your heart."

As I sat there, enveloped in Dr. Richards' compassion and wisdom, a sense of peace washed over me. The road to forgiveness may be long and arduous, but with her guidance and my own resilience, perhaps one day I could truly let go and embrace the healing that awaited me.

The following weeks were a whirlwind of emotion, a rollercoaster of highs and lows. I spent many sleepless nights replaying old memories, wrestling with anger and regret. But with each passing day, the burden on my heart felt lighter. I began journaling my thoughts, pouring out my hurt into ink instead of letting it fester within me. And despite the painful contents, there was a strange sort of relief in seeing my emotions spelled out on paper.

"Writing can be therapeutic," Dr. Richards had suggested during one of our sessions. "It provides a safe space to confront your feelings, as raw and as tumultuous as they may be."

Within the quiet sanctuary of my mind and the solitude of my room, I started to delve deeper into myself; into the wounds that had been inflicted upon me and the ones I had unknowingly inflicted upon myself. The process was painful but cathartic. For each tear that fell onto the pages of my journal, there was a tiny piece of pain and bitterness being released.

Days turned into weeks, and slowly but surely, I found myself becoming less consumed by his betrayal and more focused on my healing. I started attending group therapy sessions where I met others who bore similar scars – our shared experiences bound us together in a circle of empathy and understanding.

In those group meetings, I realized that pain was universal but so was resilience. Listening to others narrate their journeys of recovery ignited a spark within me. I saw mirrored in their stories my own strength and determination to rise above the ashes.

One day, while looking at myself in the mirror after another group therapy session, something remarkable happened. Staring back at me was a woman who looked familiar but different—a stronger version of myself; a survivor. My reflection no longer showcased the woman betrayed by love but instead revealed a woman who had found strength amidst despair.

“I am not just a victim,” I whispered to my reflection, the words filling the room with a newfound determination. “I am a survivor.”

The following week in Dr. Richard's office, I found myself recalling this moment with a sense of pride. "I am starting to see changes," I admitted, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

She returned my smile, her eyes filled with warmth and encouragement. "Change is a testament to your strength and resilience," she responded. "You're embracing this journey with courage, learning to forgive not just him, but yourself as well."

Her words felt like a beacon of hope guiding me through the foggy path of recovery. While the pain still lingered like an unforgotten ghost, each day it seemed less potent than before. I was indeed learning to forgive—forgive him for his betrayal and forgive myself for my blindness to his deceit.

As our session ended, I left Dr. Richards' office feeling lighter than when I had come in. With every step away from her office and every step towards home, I was journeying farther from the woman who had allowed herself to be broken by betrayal and closer to the woman who had found strength in her own resilience.

Journaling had become my safe haven, a place where I could pour out my deepest thoughts and emotions without fear of judgment. But that sanctuary was shattered when one day, in a rush to make it to therapy on time, I left my journal open on the bed. My heart stopped when I returned to find Teddy holding it, his eyes scanning the pages filled with my most vulnerable moments. In an instant, my privacy was invaded and my trust was broken.

The tense silence in the room shattered as Teddy's furious voice pierced the air, causing my heart to skip a beat. I watched helplessly as he held my journal in a white-knuckled grip, his eyes scanning the pages with growing anger. "What the actual fuck is this?" he bellowed, his face contorted with rage.

I stood frozen, my mind racing to find the right words to diffuse the escalating situation. "Teddy, please put that down," I pleaded, my voice barely above a whisper, but he ignored me, his expression dark and menacing.

With a sharp intake of breath, I lunged forward to grab the journal from his hands, but he deftly sidestepped me. The tension crackled between us like electricity, each heartbeat echoing in the turbulent silence that enveloped the room.

"You've been writing about our sessions? and Harry?" Teddy's voice was laced with accusation, his gaze burning into mine with searing intensity.

I felt a surge of defiance rising within me as I squared my shoulders. "It's none of your business," I shot back, my tone sharper than intended, but I refused to back down in the face of his intrusion.

His jaw clenched as he took a step closer, his towering presence casting a shadow over me. "None of my business? You've been documenting our private moments, our struggles! How you also fucked the neighbor?" His voice rose with each word, reverberating off the walls like thunder in a storm “As if that little fucking photo he sent while fucking you, my wife, wasn’t bad enough”.

I could feel my own anger building, fueled by his violation of my privacy. "You have no right to invade my thoughts like this and last I checked, you were the one who started cheating," I retorted, the words dripping with resentment and hurt.

The atmosphere crackled with tension as we stood locked in a battle of wills, neither willing to yield ground. The air grew thick with unspoken accusations and grievances left festering beneath the surface.

"You think you can just hide behind your journal and play the victim?" Teddy's voice was laced with contempt, his eyes boring into mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

My fists clenched at my sides as a surge of defiance coursed through me. "I am not playing anything! This is my way of coping with everything you've put me through, let’s remember who started this mess," I shot back, my voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside me.

His laugh was harsh and bitter, cutting through the charged atmosphere like a blade. "Coping? Is that what you call it? Writing about how I've destroyed you? This is pretty much a sex book." His words were like daggers aimed straight at my heart.

The room seemed to shrink around us as we faced off in this battle of words and wills. Every breath felt heavy with unspoken truths and buried emotions that threatened to erupt like a volcano on the verge of eruption.

"I trusted you," I whispered hoarsely, tears stinging at the corners of my eyes as the weight of his betrayal bore down on me like a crushing weight.

Teddy's expression softened for a fleeting moment before hardening once more. "Trusted me? Look where that got you," he sneered, a cruel twist to his lips betraying the depths of his callousness.

The walls seemed to close in around us as the fight escalated into a tumultuous storm of emotions and accusations. Each word exchanged felt like a blow to an already fractured foundation that threatened to crumble under the weight of our shared pain.

The rumble of thunder outside echoed the turmoil inside as our voices rose in a crescendo of anger and hurt. The room pulsed with an energy so charged it felt as though lightning might strike at any moment, igniting a fire that would consume us both.

"I'm tired of being your punching bag," I declared, my voice firm with newfound resolve.

Teddy's face contorted with fury. "You think you're innocent in all this?" he shot back, his words like venom dripping from his lips.

The air crackled with electricity as we faced off in a battle neither willing to concede. It was a clash of egos and emotions, each word exchanged fueling the fire burning between us.

"I won't be silenced by your guilt-tripping," I retorted, my voice cutting through the charged atmosphere with precision.

Teddy's eyes blazed with rage as he took a step closer, his breath hot against my skin. "Guilt-tripping? You've been playing the victim since day one," he accused, his voice dripping with contempt.

The room seemed on the verge of imploding as our tempers flared and our voices clashed in a symphony of discord. It was a battle of wills and wounded pride, each unwilling to yield ground in this war of words.

"You'll never own up to your mistakes," I accused, my voice tinged with frustration and anger.

Teddy's fists clenched at his sides as he glared at me with unbridled fury. "Mistakes? You're the one who shattered everything we had, we could’ve come back from this. You didn’t have to fuck the first guy you saw!" he roared, his words echoing off the walls like thunder on a stormy night.

The fight raged on like an unrelenting tempest, each word exchanged adding fuel to the fire burning between us. The air crackled with tension as we stood face to face in a battle that threatened to consume us both.

“You know what? I’m done,” I seethed, my voice rising to a fever pitch. "I'll find a place to stay and it sure as hell won't be here!" My fists clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms as I glared daggers at the person in front of me. The fury coursing through my body threatened to consume me, but I welcomed it, fueled by sheer determination to escape this toxic environment.

I took a deep breath and tried to steady my shaking hands as I dialed Bella's number, she was the first close friend I had made in London. The phone rang for what felt like hours before she finally picked up.

"Hey, Bella. It's me," I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside of me.

"Hey, what's up?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

"I need a place to stay for a while. Can I crash with you?" I blurted out, not wanting to beat around the bush.

Bella didn't hesitate. "Of course! What happened?"

"It's a long story," I replied, tears threatening to spill from my eyes again.

"Don't worry about it. Just come over whenever you're ready," she said reassuringly.

I thanked her and hung up the phone before splashing some cold water on my face in an attempt to compose myself. Taking one last look at myself in the mirror, I unlocked the bathroom door and made my way back to the living room.

Teddy was nowhere in sight, probably still seething from our argument. I quickly grabbed my backpack and stuffed some clothes and toiletries inside before heading out the door.

The fresh air outside helped clear my mind as I made my way towards Bella's house. As much as I wanted to stay strong and not let Teddy get to me, his words still stung like open wounds.

I couldn't believe how things had escalated so quickly between us. We used to be inseparable, but now it seemed like we were nothing but strangers living under the same roof.

My thoughts were interrupted as I arrived at Bella's house. She greeted me with open arms and led me inside as Bella and I settled down on her cozy couch, surrounded by the warmth of her living room, she handed me a mug of hot tea. The familiar scent of chamomile filled the air, soothing my frayed nerves.

"So, spill it. What happened between you and Teddy?" Bella asked gently, her eyes reflecting genuine concern.

I took a sip of the tea, feeling its comforting warmth seep into my bones. "It's just... we had another one of those fights about the cheating. The same patterns repeating over and over again. I don't think we can fix this anymore," I admitted, feeling a heavy weight lift off my chest with each word spoken.

Bella nodded knowingly, her empathy palpable. "Sometimes things reach a point where they can't be salvaged, no matter how much we try. It's okay to walk away if it's for your own well-being," she reassured me, her words like a balm to my wounded spirit.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I gazed at my friend, grateful for her unwavering support. "I just feel lost, you know? Like I don't even recognize myself anymore in all of this chaos," I whispered, the vulnerability raw in my voice.

Bella reached out and squeezed my hand reassuringly. "You're not alone in this. You have people who care about you, who want to see you happy and thriving. And remember, sometimes in letting go, we find the strength to rebuild ourselves," she offered with a gentle smile.

Her words resonated deep within me, a glimmer of hope flickering in the darkness that had clouded my heart. I wiped away the tears that had escaped and mustered a small smile in return.

"Thank you, Bella. For everything," I expressed sincerely, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over me for having such a supportive friend by my side.

The early morning light blazed through my window, a stark reminder of the emptiness that awaited me. With a heavy heart, I resolved to find a job, anything to fill the void left by my crumbling marriage. But even as I searched for employment opportunities, my thoughts kept drifting back to Harry. My desperation to know how he was doing gnawed at me like a festering wound, but there was no way to reach out and ask. As I sat in silence, I couldn't help but imagine the different path my life could have taken if I had chosen Harry over Teddy. The image of us together haunted me, a cruel reminder of what could've been. But now it was too late, and there was no turning back from the pain and regret that consumed me.

My fingers danced across the keys of my laptop, typing and retyping cover letters and resumes. The monotony of each hopeful submission echoed the emptiness in my heart, seemingly endless echoes spiraling into a void. To distract myself, I brewed a strong cup of coffee, the familiar smell offering an odd comfort in the chaos that was now my life.

As the day wore on, my efforts bore no fruit. Each potential employer remained a stranger to me, their responses automated and cold. As darkness began to creep into the room, a sense of defeat washed over me and I closed my laptop with a sigh.

I poured myself another cup of coffee, this time opting for the solitude of the balcony to nurse it. The city below shimmered with life just as it always did, indifferent to the turmoil of one seemingly insignificant inhabitant. Despite the layers of concrete and glass that separated us, I felt strangely connected to those anonymous lights - distant beacons in the abyss.

A haunting melody wafted up from somewhere far below, a soulful duet between an old saxophone and an even older piano. The notes danced through the fragmented night air, weaving stories of love lost and found again. Each note was a phantom whispering bittersweet tales into my ear.

Just then, an unexpected sound cut through my thoughts - the shrill ringtone of my phone nudged me back into reality. My heart clenched as I saw Teddy's name flash across the screen. He hadn't called since our fallout; what could he possibly want now? Nervously biting my lip, I answered it. On the other end of the line Teddy’s voice trembled with an emotion I couldn’t quite place; regret perhaps—or was it desperation?

My heart raced as I hung up and blocked Teddy's number. It was a small act of defiance, of reclaiming control over my life. But in that moment, it felt powerful.

I took a deep breath and leaned against the balcony railing, feeling the cold metal press against my cheek. It was a reminder that I was still here, still alive despite the pain and chaos swirling within me.

But even as I tried to convince myself that cutting off all contact with Teddy was for the best, doubts crept into my mind. What if he really did want to talk? What if he wanted to apologize and make things right?

I pushed those thoughts away, refusing to let them cloud my judgement. I couldn't afford to let him back into my life, not when I was finally starting to move on.

With new determination, I went back inside and resumed my job search. As midnight approached and exhaustion began to take hold, I allowed myself a moment of weakness and checked my email one last time.

A spark of hope ignited within me as I read the email from my job recruiter. It informed me that there was a hiring event happening downtown tomorrow and I had been invited to attend. My heart raced with excitement - this could be my chance to finally land a job.

I quickly confirmed my attendance and began mentally preparing for the event. As much as I hated the thought of going out into the world and facing potential rejection, I knew it was something I had to do.

The next morning, after meticulously picking out an outfit and rehearsing what I would say, I set out for downtown. The bustling streets were a chaotic blend of people rushing to work and tourists taking in the sights. As I walked among them, a sense of anonymity washed over me - just another face in the crowd.

Eventually, I reached the building where the hiring event was taking place. After taking a deep breath, I stepped inside and made my way towards the designated area.

The event was packed with job seekers like myself, all eager for a chance at employment. Despite my nerves, I felt emboldened by their determination and pushed forward to talk to employers.

One after another, I introduced myself and handed out resumes with practiced ease. Some showed interest while others dismissed me without a second glance. But instead of feeling defeated by rejection, I soldiered on with renewed purpose.

Hours passed in this manner until finally, just as hope began to wane, someone took notice of me. It was an HR rep from one of the top companies in town, Pleasing.

My heart pounded as I realized this could potentially lead me down the path to seeing Harry again. But I quickly pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the present moment.

The HR rep from Pleasing seemed impressed by my credentials and asked me to come in for an interview the following day. I couldn't believe it - this was exactly the opportunity I had been waiting for.

As I walked out of the hiring event, my mind raced with excitement and nerves. Part of me couldn't help but wonder if Harry still lived in the area, but I quickly shut down that line of thinking. It didn't matter - all that mattered was that I had a chance at a job.

The next day, I arrived at Pleasing's office early, dressed in my best professional attire. The receptionist greeted me with a smile and directed me to the HR department.

I shook myself out of my reverie as the HR rep called me into their office for the interview. Despite my nerves, I answered their questions confidently and highlighted my experience and skills.

As the interview progressed, I could feel the HR rep becoming more and more impressed. The questions became increasingly challenging, but I faced them head-on, demonstrating my knowledge and quick decision-making abilities.

Slowly, the discussion moved on to my potential role in Pleasing and how I saw myself contributing to the company's future. Here, I outlined a comprehensive plan that included innovation, team synergy, and a commitment to meeting corporate objectives. The HR rep listened attentively, occasionally interjecting to clarify or probe deeper into my responses.

The interview concluded on a positive note and I was told that they would get back to me in a week's time. As I left the building, I felt a sense of accomplishment but there was also an underlying excitement - the possibility of crossing paths with Harry and being able to leave Bella’s to find my own flat.

A week passed in a blur of anticipation and anxiety, each day inching closer to the call from Pleasing. When it eventually came through, my heart skipped a beat. They were pleased with my performance during the interview and wanted me on board.

And so began my journey with Pleasing - a journey that was filled with arduous tasks, demanding projects, and incredible opportunities for growth. The work environment was fast-paced but rewarding, pushing me to work harder each day.

One afternoon, a couple of months into my role at Pleasing, I saw him from afar. It was Harry - my former neighbor and one night stand. He looked just as I remembered him: sharp-witted and focused in his tailored suit, there was an air of high authority about him.

My heart raced as I watched him stride through the office, making his way towards the executive level. Memories of our time together flooded back to me - the late nights he spent on top of me, the way he felt, the way he touched me, how he smelt expensive.

Lost in my thoughts, I suddenly realized that I needed to find a way to meet with him. But how? As a junior employee, I didn't have easy access to top executives like him.

Determined not to let this opportunity pass me by, I approached my manager and asked if there was any way I could have a meeting with Mr. Styles. She gave me a skeptical look but promised to see what she could do.

A few days later, she called me into her office with a smile on her face. "I spoke to Mr. Styles' assistant and they have agreed to give you 15 minutes next week," she said excitedly.

My heart skipped a beat at the thought of seeing Harry again after all this time. But what would I say? What would he think of me now?

The day of the meeting arrived and I nervously made my way up to the executive level. As soon as I stepped into Mr. Styles' office, my nerves disappeared - it felt like no time had passed between us at all.

As I cautiously entered his dark office, my heart pounded in my chest. The scent of tobacco and whiskey filled the air, mingling with the intense aura emanating from Harry's piercing green eyes. I could feel his gaze burning into me as I made my way to a chair by his desk.

"Y/N," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I saw the name and couldn't believe it was you, bloody hell."

A chill ran down my spine at the iciness in his tone. Memories flooded back of our tumultuous past, the love and betrayal that had torn us apart. But now, standing in front of him again, I couldn't deny the powerful pull that still existed between us.

"Harry," I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's been a while."

He leaned back in his chair, studying me with an intensity that made my insides churn. "Indeed it has, Y/N," he remarked, his eyes never leaving mine. "I must say, I never expected to see you here."

I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, feeling the weight of unspoken history hanging between us. "I didn't expect to be here either," I admitted, my voice tinged with a hint of regret.

He raised an eyebrow, a flash of something unreadable crossing his face. "And yet fate has a funny way of bringing people back together, doesn't it?"

I nodded, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside me - longing, apprehension, and a spark of unresolved desire. "It seems that way," I said softly.

Harry leaned forward slightly, his expression softening imperceptibly. "Tell me, Y/N," he began, his voice quieter now. "What have you been up to since we last crossed paths?"

I took a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts amidst the whirlwind of emotions his presence evoked. "Well," I started hesitantly, "I've been working here at Pleasing. It's been challenging but rewarding."

A flicker of interest sparked in his eyes. "Impressive." He paused for a moment before continuing, his tone contemplative. "And what made you seek out a meeting with me today?"

I met his gaze squarely, steeling myself against the vulnerability creeping in. "I wanted to reconnect," I confessed quietly. "To clear the air and maybe... find closure."

Harry regarded me thoughtfully for a moment before speaking again. "Closure," he echoed softly. "Perhaps that's something we both need. And Teddy?"

My eyes drop to the ground, avoiding his penetrating gaze. "It's a messy situation, but I had to leave. I've been crashing at my friend Bella's place until I can scrape together enough money for a divorce."

His voice drips with insinuation and I feel my skin prickle with unease. "Oh, how convenient," he sneers. "I knew eventually you would come to your senses, although I thought our night together would have been enough to break you free." My stomach churns at his words.

The atmosphere in the room grew heavy with unspoken tension as their words hung in the air like charged lightning bolts ready to strike.

"You had no right to think that one night could define me or my decisions." I spat.

Harry's eyes flashed with a mix of surprise and something darker as my words cut through the tension between us. "And what right did you have to enter my life again after all this time, Y/N?" he countered sharply, his jaw clenched in frustration.

I squared my shoulders, meeting his challenging gaze head-on. "I didn't come here seeking your approval, Harry," I retorted, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. "I came for myself, to find closure and move on."

He leaned forward, his expression unreadable as he studied me intently. "Closure," he repeated, the word hanging heavily between us. "Is that truly what you need? Or is there something else driving you here?"

A flicker of vulnerability crossed my features before I could stop it, and I felt exposed under his piercing scrutiny. "Maybe it's both," I admitted quietly, feeling the weight of years of unresolved emotions pressing down on me.

Harry's gaze softened slightly, a hint of understanding creeping into his eyes. "I see," he murmured, a touch of regret coloring his tone. "Perhaps we both have demons to face before we can truly move forward."

I nodded slowly, acknowledging the truth in his words. "Maybe so," I agreed, a sense of resignation settling over me. "But facing them together might be easier than doing it alone."

Silence enveloped us for a moment, broken only by the sound of our breathing mingling in the charged atmosphere of the room. Finally, Harry spoke again, his voice softer now. "I never stopped thinking about you, Y/N," he confessed quietly. "Despite everything that happened between us."

My heart clenched at his words, memories flooding back with a force that left me breathless. "I never forgot you either," I whispered, a bittersweet ache settling in my chest.

A myriad of emotions played across Harry's features - longing, regret, and something else I couldn't quite decipher. "Then perhaps we owe it to ourselves to confront the past and see where it leads us, Pleasing has a nice legal plan I can lend to you for a divorce." he suggested tentatively.

I met his gaze, seeing a glimmer of hope reflected in those intense green eyes that had once been my undoing. "Maybe we do," I agreed softly, a sense of anticipation stirring within me.

I stood outside the courtroom, my heart racing with a mix of nerves and anticipation. Today was the day I had been waiting for - the day I could finally end this marriage and start a new chapter in my life. But as I took a deep breath and stepped inside, my eyes were immediately drawn to the sight of Teddy sitting at a table with his lawyer, confidently flipping through some papers.

Next to him sat Rosie, her perfectly styled hair and expensive outfit standing out like a sore thumb among the drab courtroom surroundings. She smiled smugly in my direction as if she knew something I didn't, and suddenly all my confidence wavered.

My lawyer squeezed my hand reassuringly as we walked towards our side of the court, but I couldn't help feeling like an underdog in this battle. How had Teddy managed to go back to Rosie so quickly while still begging for me just a few weeks earlier? And how long had this been going on?

As we began the proceedings, I listened half-heartedly as their lawyer presented their case - painting me as an unfit wife who refused to support her husband's successful career. The lies stung, but I held back from speaking out.

It wasn't until it was my turn to speak that I found my voice. My lawyer had prepared a strong case for me - highlighting all of Teddy's infidelities and emotional abuse throughout our marriage. As I spoke about his controlling behavior and manipulation tactics, Rosie's smug expression faltered.

But when it was time for Teddy to speak, he denied everything with such conviction that even I started doubting myself. His words were smooth and calculated, painting me as an unstable woman who couldn't handle his success.

I felt my anger bubbling up inside me - how dare he twist the truth like this? But before I could say anything, Rosie jumped in with her own version of events. She talked about how supportive Teddy had been during their brief affair, and how I was just a jealous ex who couldn't move on.

As Rosie spoke, her words felt like sharp knives twisting in my chest. The betrayal and deceit were too much to bear, she was the one who was sleeping with my husband. I clenched my fists, trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. But then, a familiar voice cut through the tense atmosphere.

"Objection, Your Honor!"

I turned to see my lawyer standing up, his expression firm and determined. "These allegations are baseless and unsubstantiated. My client has provided ample evidence of Mr. Teddy's infidelity and emotional abuse. I request that these false claims be stricken from the record."

The judge nodded solemnly, looking at Teddy and Rosie with a steely gaze. "I will not tolerate false accusations in my courtroom. Stick to the facts."

Teddy shifted uncomfortably in his seat, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. Rosie, on the other hand, remained composed, a smug smile playing on her lips.

"I have evidence that will prove my client's case, Your Honor," she declared confidently. "I request permission to present it."

The judge nodded again, signaling for Rosie to proceed. She stood up gracefully, producing a stack of papers from her briefcase.

"These documents show that Mr. Teddy was out of town on the dates in question," she began, flipping through the pages with ease. "He could not have been at the locations alleged by Mrs. Y/N."

I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Could it be true? Had I been mistaken all along? Her proof was just texts from Teddy to her saying he was out of town. Which proves nothing, if anything it was more incriminating.

But then, just as doubt started to creep in, a sudden realization hit me like a bolt of lightning.

"Your Honor," I interrupted, my voice trembling but resolute. "I have proof that Mr. Teddy and Ms. Rosie colluded to fabricate alibis and deceive me. They were working together against me all along."

The courtroom fell into stunned silence as I presented the evidence that exposed their treachery. Teddy's face drained of color, while Rosie's mask of composure finally cracked.

"I-I can explain," Teddy stammered, but it was too late.

The judge slammed his gavel down with finality. "Case closed. Divorce granted in favor of Mrs. Y/N. You are to pay her a monthly settlement of alimony."

As I walked out of the courtroom, a weight lifted off my shoulders. It was finally over - the lies, the betrayal, the manipulation. I could start anew with a sense of freedom and clarity.

And as I glanced back one last time at Teddy and Rosie, their faces twisted with defeat, I knew that justice had been served.

Waiting outside of the courtroom was Harry with a grin, he did a sassy wave to Rosie and Teddy.

"Congratulations, Y/N," Harry said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and kissing the top of my forehead. "You did it."

I couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of relief and satisfaction wash over me. "I couldn't have done it without you, Harry. Thank you for everything."

"Always, love," he replied with a gentle smile.

As we walked out of the courthouse hand in hand, I couldn't help but feel grateful for having Harry by my side.

"I'm so glad this is all over," I said with a sigh, leaning into him as we reached his car.

"Yeah, me too," he agreed, unlocking the door and helping me inside before making his way to the driver's seat.

As we drove away from the courthouse, I couldn't help but feel a sense of closure. My marriage may have ended in betrayal and deceit but now I was free to move on and start over.

"So what's next for you?" Harry asked as we drove through the city streets.

“ I think we should celebrate.” I looked at him with a playful smile.

"Celebrate?" Harry raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "And what did you have in mind for this celebration, Mrs. Y/N?"

I grinned mischievously, leaning over to gently tap his knee. "Oh, nothing too wild. Maybe just a quiet dinner for two at a cozy little bistro."

"A quiet dinner, hmm?" Harry's smirk grew wider. "And what about later, when we're no longer 'quiet'? Any ideas for that celebration?"

"Well," I purred, eyeing him up and down playfully. "That all depends on how good of a date you turn out to be."

"I'll have you know," he countered confidently, "that I'm an excellent date."

"Oh really? And what sort of things do excellent dates do to impress their partners?" I challenged him with a teasing glint in my eye.

Harry chuckled softly before leaning closer to me. "I believe the key to impressing you, love," he whispered against my ear, sending shivers down my spine, "lies somewhere between your pasta and your dessert."

"And exactly how do you plan on pulling that off?" I asked skeptically but with undeniable curiosity piqued within me.

"Oh," he smirked wickedly as he brushed a strand of hair away from my face. "I'm sure I can come up with something...tasty."

We arrived at the bistro and Harry led me inside, his hand resting on my lower back. The smell of freshly baked bread and spices filled my nostrils as we were greeted by the friendly hostess. She guided us to a cozy booth in the corner of the restaurant before handing us each a menu.

As we perused through the options, I couldn't help but feel grateful for this moment with Harry. Despite the chaos that had been my life recently, he was there to make me smile and forget about all my worries. I was grateful to be able to be like this with him.

"You know," Harry said, breaking the comfortable silence between us, "I haven't had a proper date night in ages."

I smiled at him. Soon after the waiter came to take our orders and after much deliberation, we settled on sharing a few appetizers and ordering our own entrees. As we waited for our food to arrive, Harry reached across the table to take hold of my hand.

"I'm proud of you," he said sincerely, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. "You handled everything with grace and strength."

I felt tears welling up in my eyes at his words. It meant so much to have Harry's support and encouragement through everything I had been going through.

"Thank you," I replied softly, unable to find any other words to express how much his words meant to me.

Our food arrived shortly after and we dug into our dishes with enthusiasm. We laughed and joked as we shared bites of each other's meals, savoring every moment together.

After dinner, Harry insisted on treating me to dessert at a nearby ice cream shop. We walked through the bustling streets hand in hand, enjoying each other's company in the warm summer night.

As we sat on a bench outside the shop, enjoying our ice cream.

My voice trembles as I stare at Harry, regret and guilt weighing heavily on my chest. "I should've left Teddy that night after the motel," I confess, tears welling up in my eyes. "But I was scared. Scared of losing my residency, scared of facing my family's disappointment. I thought I could endure it for a while longer, or that he would be the one to leave first." My words choke in my throat, coming out as a desperate plea for forgiveness.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," I continue, my voice shaking. "I never meant to hurt you or lead you on. I was just...lost and confused."

Harry's expression softens as he takes in my words. He reaches out to brush away a tear that falls from my eye.

"You don't have to apologize, love," he says gently. "I understand why you stayed with him. But I wish you had told me sooner."

The guilt bubbles up inside of me, threatening to drown me in its heavy weight. How could I have been so blind and selfish? How could I have hurt someone who cared?

"I'll make it right, Harry," I promise him, wiping away the tears from my cheeks.

Harry's eyes light up with hope as he grasps my hand tightly.

"We'll face this together," he says firmly, determination evident in his voice.

And just like that, the burden on my shoulders feels a little bit lighter knowing that I have Harry by my side.

"It's okay," he whispers soothingly, kissing the top of my head. "You did the right thing.”

We finish our ice cream in comfortable silence before heading back to Harry's flat.

"Can I ask you something?" I say, breaking the silence.

"Of course," Harry replies, squeezing my hand reassuringly.

"Why did you never tell me your feelings before?" I ask, feeling a little hesitant.

Harry pauses for a moment before answering. "I didn't want to pressure you or make things awkward between us," he admits. "I wanted you to be happy and if that meant staying with Teddy, then I accepted it. So I left, I couldn’t see you in that situation."

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I realize just how selfless and understanding Harry has always been despite his hardened appearence. He truly cares.

"I'm sorry for being so blind," I say softly.

"It's okay," Harry reassures me. "We all make mistakes."

My heart was pounding as we entered the safety of his flat, my senses heightened by the lingering scent of his cologne. Our fingers traced each other's as he deftly made two cups of steaming tea, every touch sending sparks dancing up my arm.

"Would you like a touch of cream?" Harry asked seductively, a teasing smile playing along his lips. His sultry voice sent trepidating waves through me, igniting an insatiable desire that twisted in my belly.

The sight of him leaning casually against the kitchen counter, bathed in soft light, stirred a primal need within me. I watched as he poured a dash of cream into my cup. The way it swirled and mingled with the dark liquid mirrored our own dance - two intricate beings melding to form something far more tantalizing.

"Thank you," I murmured, accepting the warm mug from his hand. My fingers brushed against his, eliciting a delicate shiver that rippled down my spine. "I couldn't have asked for anyone better..."

As we navigated our way towards the plush sofa, our bodies brushed together, the heat between us flaring like a bonfire on a cold night. The taste of our shared dinner still lingered on our tongues as we sipped on our teas; notes of cocoa and warm spices cascading over our taste buds.

He leaned back onto the couch, pulling me with him until I was nestled comfortably against his side. A silence fell upon us as we enjoyed our drinks; comfortable and yet teeming with an unspoken promise of what was to come.

"There's no rush," Harry purred into my ear, allowing his fingers to trace lazy circles around my wrist. His hot breath fanned out across my heated skin, setting off tremors beneath my flesh. "Let's just enjoy this moment."

His words washed over me like scalding water, igniting a yearning that threatened to consume us both. I finished my tea swiftly, setting the empty cup on the coffee table before turning back to Harry.

"Harry," I breathed out, staring into his deep emerald eyes. They were dark with desire, a mirror of my own want. "I want you...now."

With those words, our evening took on an entirely new flavor - one more intimate and fervently carnal than the most decadent dessert. And as I let go of all inhibitions and allowed myself to drown in Harry's love- the guilt and fear felt like distant memories.

Where there had been tears earlier now blossomed laughter and sighs of pleasure, echoing off the walls of Harry's flat. The heat between us couldn't be contained within mere cups of tea. It was a passionate flame that ignited every sense, searing through every inch of our bodies as we began to explore each other with newfound fervor and desperation.

The room seemed to shrink as my words echoed around us. I could feel myself growing wetter by the second, my heart pounding in anticipation of what was to come. Without another word, he stood up and pulled me close, our bodies pressing tightly against each other.

My hands found their way to his strong shoulders, digging into his skin as he claimed my lips once more. I moaned deeply into the kiss, tasting the tea we just drank on his tongue as he explored every inch of my mouth. His hands traveled down my back, over my ass cheeks, until they reached the hem of my dress.

I gasped as he lifted me off the ground with ease, carrying me towards the bedroom. My legs wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling him closer still. As we entered the room he kicked the door shut behind us, locking us in together.

As he backed me towards the bed, his cock growing hard, he paused to look down at me. His eyes dark and hungry as he took in the scene laid out before him. "You look so fucking sexy like this," he growled out, his voice rough with desire. I moaned in response, my fingers curling into the sheets beneath us as he lowered me onto the mattress.

His lips trailed hot kisses down my jawline and across my collarbone before moving southward. He nipped at my sensitive flesh while his hands explored every inch of my body, tracing patterns around my tits through the lace fabric of my bra. My breath hitched as his warm mouth hovered over my nipples, making them stand at attention.

"Please," I whispered, arching into him as he teased one of my hardened nubs between his fingers and thumb. His tongue circled around it before finally drawing it into his mouth, sucking on it with such force that I cried out in pleasure.

He pulled away slightly, looking down at me with a smirk that made my stomach do flips. "I'm going to fuck you so good, baby girl." His eyes bore into mine as he slowly undid his pants, revealing his already hard cock straining against his boxers. My mouth watered at the sight of him; all 8 inches of thickness glistening with pre-cum that reflected the light in the room.

I reached up to grab his shirt, pulling him down towards me as I wrapped my legs around his waist again. He groaned into the kiss, deepening it as he lowered himself onto the bed between my spread legs. His teeth grazed against my bottom lip before trailing hot kisses down my neck and chest.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath as he reached behind me to undo the clasp holding together my bra. It fell away from me revealing puckered nipples begging for attention which he eagerly obliged by taking one into his mouth while pinching the other between two fingers causing tiny whimpers to escape from deep within me.

His lips trailed down my stomach, stopping momentarily to press kisses to my belly button before continuing their journey south. I shivered with anticipation as his fingers hooked into the sides of my lace panties, pulling them down and off of me in one swift motion.

He took a moment to admire me, spread out before him, completely exposed and vulnerable. His gaze traveled over every inch of me, causing goosebumps to rise on my skin.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmured, before diving back in between my legs. His tongue flicked against my clit sending shockwaves of pleasure through me. I gripped onto the sheets tighter as he continued to tease and lick at my most sensitive spot.

I could feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge, his expert mouth bringing me to the brink. Just when I thought I couldn't take it any longer, he pulled away with a smirk on his face.

"Not yet," he said huskily, crawling back up towards me. He kissed me hard on the lips while positioning himself between my legs. I felt his tip brush against my entrance and I lifted my hips in response.

The room around us was hazy from the scent of our arousal, and I couldn't help but feel like I was in a dream as he continued to tease me. With every lick and nip, his touch sent shockwaves of pleasure through me. My body arched off the bed in response to his expert ministrations, my breasts pressed against his strong chest.

"You taste so fucking good," he groaned, his voice dark and rough with need. His hands slid up my thighs, teasingly close to my aching desire before moving away again. It was driving me crazy!

"Please," I begged him. "I can't take much more."

He chuckled deep in his throat, the sound sending shivers down my spine. "Oh, you think you can handle me?" He leaned down and flicked his tongue gently over my clitoris again, making me gasp in surprise at the intense sensation. "We'll see about that."

I couldn't believe how turned on I was by his dominance. As he continued to tease me, I imagined what it would be like to fully submit to him—to let him take control of my body and pleasure me however he saw fit. It was terrifying yet exhilarating all at once.

It felt like hours (or maybe just minutes?) before he finally eased himself into me, filling me up with his thick cock. I gasped at the sudden intrusion but moaned in delight as he began to move slowly inside me. Every thrust sent violent shudders through my body as we found our rhythm together—his hard and demanding possessions; mine willingly given submission underneath him amidst silk pillows and warm blankets scattered across the sheets beneath us.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into me, wanting more, needing more. His hands gripped onto my hips, holding me in place as he continued to thrust into me with increasing speed and force.

I could feel the pleasure building inside of me, growing and swelling until it was almost unbearable. My nails dug into his back as I cried out his name, consumed by the intensity of our union.

He leaned down and captured my lips in a fiery kiss that only added fuel to the fire burning between us. Our bodies moved together in perfect synchronization, reaching higher levels of ecstasy with each passing moment.

The bed rocked beneath us as we gave into pure primal desire. He was an unstoppable force, taking everything from me and giving it back tenfold.

"Fuck," he groaned against my lips, his voice thick with need. "You're so tight."

"Oh, God," I moaned, my toes curling against the sheets. "Don't stop."

He didn't listen to me of course; instead, he continued to pound into me relentlessly, driving me towards the edge again and again until I couldn't take it anymore. My orgasm crashed over me like a tidal wave, consuming every ounce of my being and leaving me shaking in its wake. He followed close behind with a muffled groan as he spilled himself inside of me. He collapsed on top of me, both of us gasping for breath as we came down from our high.

We lay there tangled together for a few moments before he rolled off of me onto his side. He pulled me against him, his arm wrapped tightly around my waist.

"Wow," I finally managed to say.

We lay there panting for several minutes afterward, our heartbeats echoing in our ears above everything else around us.

Finally, he disentangled himself from me and collapsed next to me on the bed, both of us spent and covered in a sheen of sweat.

"Fuck," he breathed out as he ran a hand through his damp hair.

"That was..." I trailed off unable to find the words to describe the intensity of our union.

He let out a bitter, exhausted chuckle laced with satisfaction. "I swore I'd never marry again, but if this is what life could be like on a regular basis, I may have to reconsider," he muttered through gritted teeth. The thought of committing himself again brought a surge of both fear and longing, but for the first time in years, he felt alive.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the landscape, he turned to me with a mix of vulnerability and determination in his eyes. "I never thought I'd find someone who could make me question my own convictions," he said softly, reaching out to gently touch my hand.

I looked back at him, her own eyes filled with understanding and a hint of mischief. "Maybe it's time to rewrite those old promises," I suggested, a smile playing on my lips.

A sense of peace settled over him as he realized that maybe, just maybe, he was ready to take a chance on love once more. With a hopeful heart and a newfound sense of purpose, he whispered, "Maybe it is."

As the last rays of sunlight slipped beneath the horizon, their eyes locked and they both felt an electric current surge through their bodies. It was a sign that their journey together was just starting and would be filled with endless twists and turns, but they were ready for the challenge.

235 notes · View notes

cinemastyles-backup · 7 months

Text

Summary: Y/n meets Harry at a frat party and it goes.. well?

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, weed smoking, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, oral (both), hair pulling, choking, etc. just filth

My original CinemaStyles-blog has been terminated, so I created a new one.

"Come on, y/n. Its not everyday that we get invited to the one and only Alpha Pi Kappa." My best friend, Margo says as she pulls on my arm, "Come on. Please." She gets down besides me and sticks out her lip, "Please?"

I sigh, "Isn't their dumbass leader Harry?"

She raises her eye brows and smirks, "Yes it is."

I roll my eyes, "No."

"No? How could you say no to .." she gets on her phone and taps before flipping it around towards me, "This." Her screen shows Harry, shirtless, at the beach with his other numbskull buddies.

I smirk slightly and shake my head, "Yeah he's hot. Okay, I'll give him that, but if you're not a popular girl or super hot like him, he won't think twice about you."

"That's why we get hot! Now come on." She stands up and opens the closet, "Pick something. My selection of party wear is way better than yours.. no offense."

I laugh knowing she's right.

"Okay fine." I sigh and get up from my bed, "Oh. This little black dress is cute. I think it'll go good with those red heels I have."

She nods vigorously, "Yes yes yes!"

— — —

My heels clack against the road as we quickly cross with a group of people - all going to the same place we are.

I wrap my arms around myself trying to contain everything. My boobs are about to bust out of this dress.

The music is so loud I can hear it from down the street.

There's people hanging around outside, someone is behind held up doing a keg stand and the bystanders are chanting "Chug! Chug! Chug!"

I chuckle and look around for Margo.

"Hey." She comes up behind me, "Ready? Harry is inside. I wanna get a good look at him." She winks at me and heads for the steps.

I follow after her. She stops as we get inside, looking around in awe. "This is awesome! I'm going to get us a drink!" She yells over the music bumping.

I nod and walk over to a non crowded corner.

My eyes scan the room.

No, I'm not looking for Harry per say, but if he come into my line of vision, I wouldn't mind it. I only ever spoke to him once and he seemed higher than a kite. He bumped into me and didn't even apologize.

Asshole.

Margo comes up to me and hands me a solo cup containing a mystery beverage, "What is this?"

"I don't know, I told the guy making the drinks to make me something good." She goes to drink her concoction but I stop her, "Did you watch him make these? He didn't spike them did he?"

"Oh my god, Thea. Stop worrying so much. Just shut up and drink." She chugs her drink and throws her cup on the floor, "You're not done? Come on, I want to dance!"

I sigh and swirl the liquid around before downing it.

"Oh my god." I try not to gag, "That was so gross."

She grabs my hand, "Come on. Harry is over here. Let's give him a show." She drags me through the crowd of people, planting us directly in the middle.

She starts to move her body against mine. Her hands sliding down my sides. I slowly start to get into it, my hands dragging across hers, turning around to face her.

"He's watching." I see her lips mouth. She points to the left of us and there stands Harry with a bunch of guys and girl, his arm slung over the one red head.

I clench my jaw at the site.

Is it because I hate him? Is it because I'm jealous?

Honestly, I have no idea.

I look away from him but I can feel his stare on me. I bite my lip and start to get into dancing with Margo more. I turn her around and grab her hips as she grinds back onto me.

I flip my hair and slide my hand down her back, glancing over at Harry who now is standing up straight with his arms crossed.

I turn Margo around and I do to her what she did to me. When I look back, Harry's gone.

"Mind if I cut in?" A tall blonde asks slipping between us, "Sure." I smile slightly but that fades as he chooses to dance with Margo.

I stand there, looking around to see if anyone wants to dance with me. I quickly move off the dance floor and go back to my corner. My insecurities fighting their way to the surface.

I shouldn't have worn this dress. I should have just stayed home. I shouldn't be here.

"Hey pretty lady." A guy slams into the wall next to me, "What are y-ou doing all alone?" I lean away from him, "Too drunk. Nope." I go to walk away but he grabs my wrist and pulls me to him.

I yank my wrists but his grip is too tight for me to break free, "Don't be like that, baby." He leans in to try and kiss me but is shoved and he bounces off the wall onto the floor.

"She said no."

I look up to see Harry standing there. He looks over at me, "I told them not to let this shit head in anymore." He looks down at 'shit head' and moves his arm with his shoe, "Get out."

The guy gets up quickly and stumbles towards the door.

Harry looks over at me, "You alright?" I nod, "Um, yeah. I'm good." He nods, "You smoke?"

"Smoke what?" I ask, my innocence really showing.

He laughs and nods towards the stairs, "Come on." He starts to walk away and my legs automatically follow him.

As I follow him, I watch as his arm flexes with each grab of the railing. I think to myself how it would feel gripping my hair as I-

I'm lost in my thoughts that I didn't realize he stopped, "Oops. Sorry." I mumble as I step back from him.

"You're good. Here." He point to a door, "Come on." He opens the door and lets me walk in first. There's two guys sitting in low lounge chairs across from each other.

"What's up, Styles?" The one says holding out the, what I'm guessing is a blunt. Harry takes it and brings it up to his lips. I watch him as he slowly exhales the smoke.

My eyes go to the floor as he looks over at me, "This is y/n." I look up at the guys and hold my hand up, "Hi."

"This is Zayn and this is Louis." Harry walks over and plops down onto the third lounger, "Come here." I slowly walk over to him and he holds his hand out, "Sit."

"On your lap?" I whisper to him. He smirks and nods, "Only if you want to." I nod once before sliding onto his legs. He wraps an arm around my back to support me and lays the other one over my thighs.

"This party is getting boring." He states as he takes the blunt from, I think Louis.

"Yeah, that's why we're up here." Zayn laughs, "Too many people. I'm over it."

Louis agrees, "Totally. So y/n, you go to school here?" I turn my head to look at him and nod with a smile, "Yeah."

Harry nudges me and I look over and down at his hand. Between his ring covered fingers is the blunt with a line of smoke coming from it, "Want a hit?"

I slowly reach up and take the object into my own fingers and bring it up to my lips.

"Now you might cou-"

I cut Harry off with a vicious cough. I bring my arm up and cover my mouth with my elbow, "Oh god." I place my hand on my chest and calm down.

"Here love." Louis sets a water bottle into Harry's hand, "You ever smoke before?"

I shake my head, slightly embarrassed.

"Well congratulations, we just took your stoner virginity." Zayn smiles as he take a hit, "Welcome to the club."

I smile and look down at the blunt before taking another hit. This time I don't cough.

"Hold it for a few seconds before exhaling." Harry says watching me, "It'll feel so good." He lightly squeezes my thigh and I swallow anxiously.

I start to feel dizzy almost, but it's a good kind of dizzy.

"Do you guys do this all the time?" I giggle, "This is awesome."

"She's feeling good." Louis chuckles, "Oh to be a new stoner and not have to smoke so much."

I zone out of their conversation and turn my head to look at Harry. He has his head tilted back as he takes another hit. He opens his eyes and I smile at him when he looks at me.

He reaches up and grabs my chin, pulling me to him. His lips brush against mine, "Open and inhale." He says while holding in his breathe.

I do as he says and he exhales the smoke into my mouth. I hold it for a few seconds before exhaling the excess.

"Now that, my dear, is called shotgunning." Louis says proudly, "That's one of my favorite thing to do."

I keep my eyes on Harry as he brings the blunt to my lips. I wrap my lips around and close my eyes as I feel the smoke hit my throat. I tilt my head back and look down at Harry with a smirk.

He stay still but parts his lips, indicating he wants me to come to him. I lean down and press my lips to his before I lean back and blow the smoke into his mouth.

He shakes his head slightly with a smirk. His hand slides up and down my back and I feel it leave for a split second before it's right back to where it was.

"We're going to be right back." Zayn and Louis get up and leave the room.

"How do you feel?" Harry whispers lowly, "You look like you feel good."

I bite my lip at his words and nod slowly, "Why don't you find out." I shock myself with how confident I sounded just now, but I'm going to roll with it.

I shift so I'm straddling him, "That's why you brought me up here isn't it?" He raise show eye brows and tilts his head, "One of the reasons."

"Oh, okay. So why don't we just focus on the one reason now, and we can worry about the other ones after, yeah?" I watch as his lips curl into a smile and his perfect teeth pull his bottom lip between them.

Without another word spoken, he grabs the back of my neck and pulls me towards him, his lips attacking mine. I let out a slight whimper as his teeth sink down into my lip.

"You like that?" He asks lowly.

"Mhm." I lean back in and continue making out with him. His hands push my dress up and hie slips his fingers into the band of my panties, "These are mine now."

I nod and help him get them off. He stuff them into his pocket before his hand goes back to in between my legs, "Fuck. You're soaked already."

"I kept thinking about you." I whimper as he plays with my clit.

"Thinking about what?" He asks, watching my face twitch with pleasure, "Tell me and I'll give you more."

"You. Your cock." I gasp as he slides a finger up and down my slit, feeling how wet I am for him.

"What about my cock?" He circles around my opening and goes back to my clit, repeating the action until I answer.

"How good you'd feel in my pussy. My throat. Everywhere." I moan and tilt my head back as he slips a finger in, his rings pushing against my skin.

"Your throat huh? Are you giving me permission?" He brings a hand up and rubs his thumb over my lips and chin, "I'd love to fuck that gorgeous mouth of yours."

I wrap my lips around his thumb and nod as I look into his eyes.

His lips part as I suck and grind my hips on his hand.

"You dirty girl, fucking yourself on my fingers." He leans up and nips my chin, "I'll give you something better here in a little bit, hmm." He plants kisses along my jaw as he slips in another finger.

I moan and arch my back, pushing my hips down onto his fingers more, "Harry." I whimper gripping his shoulders, "I want more."

Without any hesitation, he gets a third inside me and I moan louder, "Fuck." He smirks and lets me grind on his hand, watching me.

"That's it, that's a good girl. You gunna cum for me? I can feel you tightening around my fingers." He whispers into my ear, "Be a good girl and cum for me."

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Harry." I reach down to grab his wrist, rocking my hips a little fast, "I'm gunna cum, oh fuck."

I tighten my thighs and throw my head back with a loud gasp. He tilts my head back to him and kisses me as I come down from my high, "You wanna taste yourself?"

I nod and stick my tongue out. He pulls his fingers out of my pussy slowly and brings them up, "Look at how wet you are, fuck." He inspects them and then lays them on my tongue.

I wrap my lips around them, sucking and swirling my tongue to get every part of his fingers I can.

He moan as he watches my actions, "You're so hot." He pulls his fingers out, "Let me fuck that mouth, baby."

I get off of him and he stands up, taking off his clothes, leaving him naked in front of me. His body is perfectly chiseled and his tattoos make it a thousand times better.

"Take your dress off, I need to see all of you." He starts to pump his cock as I slip out of my dress. I go to take my heel off but he stops me, "Leave 'em on."

I nod and get into my knees, "Fuck I can't wait to feel you gag on my cock." He says as he walks over to me. I look up at him and gently place my hands on his thighs.

"If I get to rough just tap me." He brushes my hair back and holds it into a ponytail. He brushes his cock against my lips and I open, tasting his leaking precum on my tongue.

He moans at the licks of my tongue, "Fuck." I start to bob my head before I push myself all the way down onto him, getting my breathing under control fairly quick.

He tightens his grip on my hair and starts to thrust in and out of my mouth, moaning and cursing with each thrust.

I can feel my eyes start to water and I blink, causing tears to fall down my cheeks. He pulls out and brings me up to my feet. He wipes away my tears and my smile at him, "Don't worry. They're good tears."

He smirks and kisses me again, backing me up until my legs hit the bed, the kiss getting hotter by the second.

"How do you want me to fuck you?" He whispers as he kisses down my neck and chest. He lays me back and kisses down my stomach and over my hips. He looks up at me, waiting for an answer.

I look down at him, "Hard and fast. Don't take it easy on me."

He smirks at my words and spreads my legs, "You're dripping for me, baby. Fuck." He leans in and licks a strip up my pussy and sucks on my clit. I gasp and arch my back off the bed, "Oh fuck."

He grips my hips to keep them on the bed and starts attacking my opening with his tongue. I reach down and tangle my fingers into his curly hair, pulling as he starts to vigorously eat me out.

"H-Harry.." I whimper and gasp as I can feel him bringing me towards my second orgasm of the night, "please don't stop. Please don't stop." I chant over and over, "fuck."

I let out a pleasured scream as Harry continues to eat me out through my high.

He pulls away and crawls up my tired body. He kisses me, shoving his tongue against mine so I can taste myself on him.

"Don't you taste good baby?" He groans as he slides his cock against my wet pussy, "I can't wait to feel inside of you."

I pull him closer to me and continue to kiss him.

The kiss is broken by both of us gasping as he slides into me, bottoming out right away.

"Oh shit. You're so fucking tight and wet, fuck." He curses in a deep groan.

"Fuck Harry I need you to move, please fuck me." I beg desperately.

He sits up, gripping my hips so hard his rings will leave bruises. He pins my hips down and starts to thrusts, not giving me a moment to prepare.

I let out a pleasured scream.

"That's if baby. Let everyone know how good I make you feel." He groans, "Fuck. Let your friend know that I'm fucking you instead of her."

I completely forgot about Margo, but I really don't care right now either.

"Harry. Harry. Fuck, Harry." I moan loudly, desperately trying to grip the sheets for leverage, "Fuckfuckfuck." I arch my back off the bed and moan.

"God damn. You're incredible." He praises, "Fuck."

He brings his thumb to my clit, viciously rubbing circles onto it.

I cum again, clenching around him as I arch and twist my body off the, now, sweaty sheets.

"Mm, fuck." Harry pulls out and I can feel his string of cum land on my stomach, "Shitshitshit." He pants quickly, "Fuck."

I lay there breathing heavy with my eyes closed for a few minutes until Harry comes back and wipes off the cum.

He plops down next to me and looks over at me as he brings one arm up behind his head, "Come here." He extends his free arm, inviting me to lay with him.

"You good?" He asks still breathing kinda heavy. I nod, "Oh yeah. I'm good."

He rubs my arm with his hand and I lay there listening to him breathe, "So how do you know who I am?"

He chuckles, "I've known who you are since the day I ran into you by accident."

I smile, "Really?"

"Yeah, I was so caught of guard by how pretty you were I panicked and all I could get out was-"

"Watch where you're going." I say with him.

He laughs, "Ha. Yeah. Exactly. You remember that?" I nod, "You really don't forget when Harry Styles bumps into you and doesn't apologize even though it's his fault." I giggle and poke his chest.

"Yeah. Yeah, sorry about that." He kisses my head and pulls me closer to him. "This probably isn't the best time, but would you want to go on a date with me?"

I smirk and look up at him, "Only if you roll another blunt for us."

He smiles and nods, "Deal."

——

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated and don’t forget to hit follow!

86 notes · View notes

harryssweatcreaturee · 7 months

Text

i kept thinking of sub harry and i needed to get this tiny blurb out, enjoy (; xxx

wc: idek it’s short

warnings: smut, sub!h, anal fingering/rimming

“That’s my good boy, swallow my fingers just like that.”

Her voice praising him made his knees weak, whimpering with his face pressed against the bed as his eyes rolled back.

This was so worth the week of (Y/N) edging him and not letting him cum.

All he could feel, think, and breathe was (Y/N). (Y/N), (Y/N), and (Y/N). He could smell remnants of her lavender lotion against their sheets, her two fingers pushed up inside his tight hole, her sweet voice now being used to praise and demand Harry. He’d call himself lucky, really.

Harry ass was up in the air, knees spread to allow his pretty girl to sit between them and properly take care of him. And while he loved to fuck his girl and eat her out like it was all he was meant to do, he loved this just as much - letting (Y/N) take control and take care of him.

Suddenly his hole felt empty and he was clenching at nothing, wincing and whining because he wanted to feel full again. Only seconds after, he could feel her warm tongue dancing around his slightly gaped hole. Tongue fucked and in heaven, Harry pushed his ass against her face, knuckles white from how hard he was gripping the sheets.

“Easy, baby. Know you’re eager but you need to stay still for me.” One of her hands ran up his back, intending to release his tense muscles as her tongue for to work again, her other hand wrapping around his thick cock to pump him.

All Harry could do is moan and whine her name repeatedly in a broken string - “M’close - please. Please, let me cum. Can I cum? P-please, baby.”

(Y/N) smiled against his skin, a soft bite to his right ass cheek, “Yeah, pretty boy. Cum for me. Let it go. Wanna taste you already.”

And like the perfect boy he always was for (Y/N), Harry made a delicious, salty white mess of her hand. He knew what was coming next and he wanted to see it with his own eyes, bringing his head up from the pillow to turn and look at her lick up her cum-slick hand, his ears swallowing her pleased moans.

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fan fics #harrystylesfanfics #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles mature #harry styles smut #harrystyles #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles story #harrystyles blurb #harrystyles writing #harry styles sexy

63 notes · View notes

narrycherries · 3 months

Text

🩵 happy happy birthday 🩵

#harry styles #harry #harry styles stuff #one direction #harrys house #harry styles pictures #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles gif #harry styles layouts #harry styles mature #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles birthday #happy birthday

50 notes · View notes

freedomfireflies · 7 months

Text

Freaky Fun Masterlist

Eeeee hi!!

So, I thought it might be kind of fun to do some Halloween/Spooky Season inspired extras and blurbs for each of the main Harry's we have!!

None of the extra's and stories will be related to the current timelines! Just a quick fun peek at what they all might get up to for Halloween!!

All one-shots, blurbs, and extras can be read as standalone's!

*These stories will contain Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

Longer Extras:

~ American Psycho* | One for the Money

The one where you and your boss, Mr. Styles, have a little bit too much fun at the office Halloween party.

~ Scream* | Mine

The one where your mafia boss boyfriend, Harry, plans out a Fall Day of Fun. Scary movies included.

~ A-Mazing* | 404

The one where you and Harry find yourselves lost in a corn maze together.

~ Tease Me* | Teach Me

The one where you and your best friend, Harry, are invited to a Haunted House. But ghosts aren’t the only fun thing about this party.

Blurbs:

~ Bite Me*

The one where your boyfriend, Harry, is a vampire. And you wish you could feel what he felt.

~ Wake the Dead* | iFall for Harry

The one where you and Harry sneak into an abandoned cemetery at night. And things get a little spooky.

508 notes · View notes

butdaddyilovehim-hs · 8 months

Text

✨My Masterlist ✨

This is my official masterlist!! Thank you so much for reading my stories and I hope you enjoy them! Just a few things:

Requests are always open, send me any prompts you would like! I only write for Harry at the moment so if you are sending requests it's a good thing to note :)

I take requests for basically any trope or au so send them through!

Feel free to dm me if you would like to join my main tag list or if you would like to join a tag ist for a specific fic

All smut will be updated with a mature label as per tumblr's requirements. Update your settings so you don't miss out! Here is a link to @ gurugirl's lovely post with instructions on how to update them!

Everything is ordered from oldest and this masterlist will have warnings as well as a summary for each work

Reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated!! I always love to hear what you think of my writing!

Happy Reading! x

Series:

The Years Between US (incomplete)

age gap, smut, angst, fluff

Synopsis and Character List

Part I

Mini Series:

The Divorce (incomplete)

the one where Y/N takes on her first high profile case as an assistant at a law firm. Her first client? Harry Styles.

smut, angst, fluff and a Harry who is delightfully insufferable :)

Part I

Part II

Part III

Tolerate It (complete)

the one where Harry is a workaholic and Y/N doesn't know how long she can take it anymore.

angst, taylor swift inspired and a Harry who needs to get his head on straight

Part I

Part II

Part III

Obsession (incomplete)

the one where Y/N meets her brother's girlfriends family for the first time and takes a specific interest in a certain older Mr Styles

Part I

Stars Around My Scars (incomplete)

the one where Y/N is throwing Niall a surprise birthday party and she bumps into Harry Styles on the street while buying candles

Part I

Mr and Mrs Styles (upcoming)

the one where Y/N and Harry are assassins for rival companies and they're trying to take each other down. oh and they're married.

Mr and Mrs Smith AU

A Delicate Point of View (upcoming)

the one where recently widowed Mr Styles is looking for a nanny and Y/N just recently happens to be jobless

Sound of Music AU

One Shots:

The Wedding

the one where Y/N is stressed planning for their wedding and Harry can't seem to do anything right

Rainbows and Hospital Rooms

the one where Harry is a grumpy doctor, Y/N is his intern and she's late on her first day

Kissy?

the one where Harry simply cannot keep his lips off Y/N

Enough For You

the one where Harry kisses EmRata in Tokyo and Y/N finds out on Twitter

Spells of Fate

the one where Y/N keeps feeling dizzy and Harry is ever the protective boyfriend

409 notes · View notes

harrysonlylover · 3 months

Text

Instincts*

Summary: Harry’s primal instincts catch up with him.

Trope: Husbandrry (non famous)

Warnings: breeding kink, a hint of corruption kink, dirty talk, a hint of degradation, mentions of pregnancy and body changes.

WC: 1.4k

Masterlist

Harry lost his sanity in the best way possible.

His mind couldn’t put an effort into focusing on anything except his one and only goal.

Breeding his wife.

It felt like his only purpose in life for a while now. His thoughts were composed of nothing but her ovulation days and how many loads he needed to give her.

Though—she was a bit greedy today.

Her body rested on some blankets and pillows laid out on the ground, with a lit chimney nearby. He towered over her, body glistening with sweat as the fire casted light on his skin.

His tattoos were on full display, curls hanging loosely on his forehead with his cock erect against his stomach, and dripping on her pussy.

She let out small whines as his thumb teased her swollen clit. He coaxed two orgasms out of her with his mouth, something that was set in stone in their sex life.

But—his future baby mama was ovulating, and after giving her two orgasms, it was time to fill her up.

“Look at you darling, legs open and spread. Are you that excited for Daddy’s cum?” He spat on her pussy, allowing it to mix with his dripping pre cum that was torturing her. He didn’t give her his cum yet—he’s just teasing her by allowing a small amount of it to fall on her pulsing pussy.

“Uh-huh.” She nodded immediately, drooling at the thought of getting knocked up.

Everything felt warm and lovely. Their naked bodies being near the fire as he prepared her to receive his load did something to her brain chemistry. Besides, the sight of her husband—acting so primal had her spreading her legs as wide as possible.

“Hmm, gonna be a good mama?” He leaned down, pressing a torturous peck to her glistening pulsating pussy. His tongue licked up the pre cum that dripped down, as he enjoyed the smell of her ovulating pussy that ignited something in him.

“Fill me up, please.” The plea in her voice was rushed. She loved having sex with him, that was a solid fact. But, she was weak for his naked body and thick cock.

His mannerisms and actions changed after wanting a baby. Every single thing was ten times more attractive. Things as simple as his pumped biceps and chiseled abs—or his veiny hand that choked her throat a billion times before.

“Look at you, so pathetic. Begging for my cum, but you can’t help it, can you? You need me to breed you.” He felt lucky for not passing out at the erotic sight in front of him. His wife. His lover, so bare for him with her legs spread, giving him her pussy to use and breed.

Always so good for him.

He grabbed his cock and tapped it at her clit. She tried to jerk her hips, needing some friction, but he was quick to slap her pussy.

“Behave.” He ordered her. He had to breed her properly so he was very adamant on doing everything perfectly.

He tucked his bottom lip between his teeth as his cock sank into her warm walls. It was an irreplaceable feeling—especially because he would be impregnating her.

She let out a loud whine, as her fingers gripped the pillows next to her. Her facial expressions displayed relief and ecstasy just like he expected.

“That was exactly what this pussy needed, eh? Felt relieved when I stuffed you.” He grinned, looking down at her body as she rolled her eyes when he went deeper.

Her warm wet walls were driving him insane. Just the idea of having her take his cock on her ovulation day made him dizzy.

He fastened his pace gradually, his hips moving perfectly to hit her favorite spot. Her moans were music to his ears. There was something so lustful in having her lie down and take his cock and cum.

He was ready to keep her up all night to make sure she got stuffed. Besides, his stamina and sex drive were unmatched—which is why she sometimes asked him to use her body and manhandle it as he wished.

“God look at that baby. My cock is so deep inside you.” He pressed his ring-clad hand on her stomach. “See, that means my cum will be everywhere.”

His thrusts were now rough, hitting her cervix and making her breasts jiggle. The sound of wetness has never been this loud, not to mention their skin slapping.The lit fire added to the ambiance, making them feel extra warm and hot.

“You hear that? That’s my cock breeding this pussy.” He smirked at her state—falling apart at the feeling of his thick cock fucking her warm pussy.

“M—more.” She smiled as if she was stuck in a haze.

“Oh, baby, such a cockslut. Used to be my shy virgin girl and now you’re begging me for a baby.” He tsked, feeling his ego inflate at the thought of her progress.

He corrupted his lover, but he wasn’t to blame. His cock was just too good.

He grunted upon looking down to where they were connected. His cock was slick with precum and her wetness, sliding in and out of her hole as she whined and whimpered.

“That’s right. Letting your husband use your hole for breeding.” He pulled away, watching her pussy clench around nothing upon feeling empty, before thrusting back harshly.

Her face was to die for. So pretty just for him. He loved watching her eyes roll back or seeing her sweet smile, knowing that he’s fucking her hard and fast.

She opened her mouth wide open, an indication of wanting him to spit inside. He immediately leaned in, grabbing her face roughly before spitting in her mouth.

“Shit. Dirtiest cockslut.” He sealed their lips together as he continued his brutal thrusts.

Sweat covered their bodies, and everything felt heated. The fire, their lower bodies—along with their skin on skin contact and intense kisses.

“You’ll look so beautiful with your bump and full breasts.” He panted, trying not to cum on spot at the idea.

“Yes—please.” A few tears slipped from her eyes at the intensity of their sex.

His pounding was ruthless. The way his hips drove into her could only stem from good stamina. As if he trained himself to last for her.

“Whose going to make you a mama?” He slowed down his thrusts, laying his forehead against hers.

“You.” She groaned, scratching his back.

“Whose cock is breeding you?”

“Yours.”

“Damn right.” He pulled his body away and wrapped his hand around her throat.

When she’s too gone for him, she wouldn’t tell him that she’s cumming. But he knows her body—so when she began clenching more and mumbled things under her breath, he knew.

“I know baby, let go for me. Let me give it to you.” She loved deep strokes at the end, so he switched to that.

She came on his cock without a warning. Her entire body shook under him as she moaned his name out loud, and scratched his back.

Her pussy gripped him tightly, pulsating around him and it was so fucking warm. He couldn’t hold it and followed her orgasm by filling her up.

It felt otherworldly, releasing in her like his life depended on it—making sure that he was so deep inside so that it catches.

“That’s it, let your womb have it.” The feeling of his hot cum filling her up was euphoric and intense. He prepped her face with kisses, mumbling love confessions, telling her what a perfect wife she was as she stilled his hips inside of her.

“No leaking until I pull out, m’kay?” She can still feel his cock twitching inside her as his cum flowed.

She was too lost in her thoughts, dreaming of her swollen belly and Harry sucking on her lactating tits—

“Baby?” Once he grabbed her chin, she was pulled out of her daydream.

“Are you my good breeding whore?”

She nodded immediately like it was common knowledge.

“Then clench your pussy for Daddy and hold it. No leaking please.” He whispered, before moving her hair away and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

He continued to whisper dirty things in her ear—how this was just the first load and that she deserved way more for being his good girl.

He promised her to stay up till dawn, and frankly?

She couldn’t wait.

——————————————————

Taglist: @prettythingsworld-blog @slut4marvelmenn @cherrycokeslay @wandas-lawyer @tbsloneely @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @missmielyhoran @harryssideboob @harrysficreblog @itslottiehere @hsonlyangelxo @gem1712 @adachhi @tpwkkkkk @hrryberry @summertime-pills @lhhrryismyhome @marzhshaim @harrystylessslut @keepdrivingkisses @rideeonstyles @matildasatellite @a-strange-familiar @greivingfortheliving @babyyangel111 @soblavk @straightnogayhs @awesomenavy @infinatetatie @be-with-me-so-happily @harrysrockstarsgf @cherrys4suckers @straightontilmornin @stilesissaved @daphnesutton @elioslover

2K notes · View notes

0oolookitsme · 7 months

Text

Another One?

Type - A One-Shot!

Verse - Model!Harry x Fashion Designer!y/n

Word Count - 4k (she's a thick one y'all)

Warnings - A little bit of crying (subrry), cursing and well, smut.

A/N - Damn, this is the second longest smut piece I've ever written!

Kinks - Dry Humping, Mirror Sex, Mommy Kink, Over Stimulation.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

Please rb to share!

It was a formal get-together organized by a friendly colleague of Y/n's. "I've met some new professionals, and I think it's going to be helpful for the newbies to make some connections," she had told Y/n while they were having lunch together. Y/n had only appreciated her idea in response, saying that she too would love to chat with them.

When it came to the decision of a 'plus-one', everyone knew she was going to bring Harry. After all, it had almost been a year since they went public with their relationship. The party was formal, but it was held on the rooftop of a restaurant so everyone had settled on dressing up pretty casually.

Most men were seen wearing button-down shirts with pants or jeans, and women were mostly in flowy dresses. And Y/n was one of them – wearing a one piece long-maxi dress. Its sleeves came right till her elbow, the shoulders were puffed. It was plain black in colour and she had worn her platinum jewelry and white heels at the end. To match her Harry was wearing a shirt that faded from white on the top, to black at the bottom. Shedding leaves were patterned on the shirt, and he had styled it with a pair of retro-black jeans – tying the outfit together by wearing some black Converse that had white stripes on them.

She had french-twisted her bun, and Harry had his hair tousled to the side. They had left the house with Harry trying to seduce Y/n into a quickie, and Y/n sliding her hands on his chest, and leaning in to promise in his ear that she'd reward him if he'd be good for her at the party.

Both of them knew that she didn't need to tell him that – he knew his way around at any gathering. But, just out of habit, Y/n had radiated some dominance and almost called him a good boy. Which led to Harry's mind being in a frenzy all night.

They talked to people together, Harry's hand on her lower back as his thumb rubbed against her clothed-skin. As the time passed, Y/n had fled away from him and was chatting with other people while he was stuck in a group of men who he had no interest in talking with.

He was, at the end of the day, an introverted guy. Sure he walked on runways for the biggest of brands, for the millions of people to watch but he just couldn't shed down the shyness of his personality. And, y/n loved that.

He was an introvert, she was an extrovert so they balanced each other out perfectly. But a lot of the times she felt like she was leaving Harry out, abandoning him whenever they went out with many people. But Harry swore he wasn't bothered by it, well, most of the time he wasn't. But tonight wasn't like the most and he was very bothered by all of these people around him. He just wanted to be alone with his girlfriend, but he knew that she wouldn't want to leave this party due to the 'important' people that were here.

So, he excused himself out of the group chat and beelined his way to Y/n, who was clearly faking a laugh. "Hi," he mumbled as he kissed her jaw, his hand immediately sneaking around her waist. He needed to be touching her to stay calm or he would surely lose his mind by all of this overwhelmness.

"Hi," she genuinely smiled back at him, kissing his cheek in return. "Meet Harry, my boyfriend," she introduced him to the lady she was talking to. "Harry, this is Ms. Holly, an expert-tailor for Gucci," she said regarding the lady.

Holly extended her arm to shake hands with him. Harry dreaded having to touch anyone else, but out of politeness, he did. "Of course I know him!" She exclaimed and then added a brag, "the world renowned model – Harry Styles." She wasn't really exaggerating, it was true – still a blush creeped up Harry's neck as he mumbled a small 'thank you'. She turned her head at the call of her name and muttered, "it was very nice to meet you guys," with a wide smile before walking away.

Harry, on the other hand, was getting impatient. He did not want to be near anyone else but Y/n right now. "How long is it going to take?" Was the first thing Harry asked her, moving closer to her so that their bodies were touching.

"I think we'll be having dinner soon, and should leave after that. Why?" She asked him, wrapping her hand around his bicep. "Is something wrong?" She continued when his eyes flicked away from hers.

"No, everything's fine. Just wanna go home," he muttered lowly, suddenly remembering that there were people around who had caused him to straighten his back.

Y/n understood just then that he wasn't feeling it tonight. She knew it could be hard to socialize sometimes, especially as an introvert. And, over time she had realized that Harry wasn't quick to voice his discomfort in public until he was feeling too overwhelmed.

"Okay, let's just bid our goodbyes quickly," she said, kissing his temple.

Then Harry's eyes went wide. "W-what?" He stuttered. "I can wait a little longer, I know this is important for you," he assured her.

"Well, it isn't really important for me, per se. After all, this was hosted for the new employees, and I know most of these people," she said with a slight roll of her eyes.

Harry knew that if this really was important, Y/n wouldn't be this dismissive about it and ready to leave. And, while the host was a good friend of theirs and would understand, Harry still wanted to respect her and well, it was only a matter of time now.

He'll just spend it listening to people chat and laughing every once in a while. "Its only going be a little more. We've stayed for so long, might as well stay till the end," Harry shrugged.

"Are you sure? Because I'm ready to go home," Y/n told him, feeling a little unsure when he replied with a 'yes'. "Okay, but tell me when you want to leave, yeah?"

"Mhm," he hummed, pecking her lips before putting on a wide grin on seeing a couple approaching them. He knew that if he were to behave good right now, he'll be rewarded for it at the end of the night, in his bedroom that he shared with Y/n.

He brushed his uneasiness under the rug right then and there, and decided that if he's going to stay for longer, he might as well make it fun.

That's when all the sneaky touches and grazes started. Brushing up against her bum, or kissing her jaw, or spreading his legs when he sat in front of her. He knew that she was catching up with him, and he loved seeing her ignore his antics and interact professionally with the people who thought licking her ass would get them somewhere.

"Don't make me take you home, Harry," she leaned in to whisper in his ear, smiling at him later to make sure that the people around didn't think they were having any issues.

It was a warning, but Harry was suddenly feeling way too confident. He proceeded to tease her throughout the night. When it did come down to dinner, he was hoping he would get her alone but Y/n invited a couple over and decided to mingle with them instead. Now, she was doing it intentionally.

If he was going to act like a brat, then he was going to be treated like one.

He kept brushing his thigh against her, kept slipping his hand way too low on her back and even kept a hand on the inside of her thigh as they chatted and ate desert.

At the end of the night, Y/n made sure to stay as long as she could. She knew it'd frustrate Harry, but that's what he gets for acting up. "Please, need you," he whispered defeatedly in her ear, again moving closer to her in a manner that their sides touched. The rebelliousness in him was gone once he wasn't in the spotlight anymore.

A smirk pulled up on her lips, as a woman walked away from her and towards the car her husband was sitting in. "Yeah, what do you need, baby? She asked him, just filling up time knowing that he wasn't going to be 'rewarded'.

"Anything. Anything from you, I promise I'll be good," he cried silently, his hold on her hand tight as they walked to their car.

"What good will be being good now? You've been nothing but a brat for most of the night," Y/n said as a matter of fact, sitting in the driver's seat of the car as Harry slipped in the passenger side, feeling dominated and fuzzy.

"But I was also good! I waited for the night to be over, and I socialized! I was good!" Harry shifted in his seat to partially face her and insisted. "I behaved well!" Frowning, he said, feeling like he was being injusticed.

Y/n shrugged again, and Harry was feeling more and more agitated. "Who are you trying to convince, baby?" She asked, looking straight ahead at the road.

"I- but I was good!" Harry whined this time, wanting some sort of acknowledgement for his good behaviour.

"Oh? So was it me who sat with my legs spread when people were watching? Or was I brushing up against you as you talked to some people who were ecstatic to be in the same room as you? Ok, wait up – was it me who had my hand on your thigh as you sat with your new colleague on a dinner table. Well, it surely was me who's hand was slipping lower and lower down your back, wasn't it?" Y/n looked away from him once she was finished, a victorious smirk on her face as finally Harry had nothing to say.

She heard him sigh and saw from the corner of her eyes as he shifted again and sat straight this time, peeping out of the window. Just because she didn't want to push him too far, she placed her hand on his thigh, rubbing her thumb against it as they drove without any more talking, with music playing on medium volume.

Harry never once looked at her again but Y/n wasn't fazed by it. She had seen him like this before, and she wasn't going to melt at this little drama and not punish him. He was going to get what he deserved, whether good or bad.

Harry felt she was being unfair – he deserved something after that long night. Yes, he didn't behave well for the whole of night, but what about the parts when he was a good boy?

Once they reached the garage, she shifted her hand from his thigh and placed it behind his seat as she backed inside once the automatic doors opened. She didn't miss the way his head turned so quickly at the loss of her touch.

"C'mon, I can't wait to get to bed." Y/n said as she got out of the car and in that moment, Harry's stomach dropped.

He trailed behind her, feeling low because she just denied touching him but somewhere inside him, something told him that it wasn't going to be this easy. He watched the sway of her bum as she climbed the stairs ahead of him, feeling painfully hard in his pants. He was sure he had a wet patch on his underwear by now.

He sat on the bed after changing and saw as Y/n paced around the room, removing her jewelry and make up or taking down her hair and changing her clothes or putting her purse away. And, Harry's pretty sure this is the longest it has ever taken Y/n to unwind.

When finally she came to the bed, Harry couldn't help but curl around her like a little puppy. He layed his head in her lap as she went through some of her mails, making circles on her thigh with his index finger.

Y/n faked a yawn above him and made sure he realized that she had put her phone away. And just when he did, he sat up straight, looking at her with pleading eyes. "Please, mommy," he whispered, his eyes glossing over. "Need you."

That's when she knew it was go time.

"Why don't you use my thigh, baby? I'm too tired tonight to give you anything more," she said as she slipped down the bed, raising her thigh up a little.

Harry only nodded frantically, getting up on his knees to unbutton his sweats. "Keep them on, don't want the bed to get dirty," he heard her say and her slight coldness was starting to get to him as he felt more and more sensitive by each second.

"Y-yes mommy," he said before putting one of his knees on the other side of her thigh, and lowering on it. The moment he felt slight pressure on his dick, he let out a whiny noise as he built a pace, going back and forth on her thigh. His head was thrown back and somewhere, he was waiting for Y/n's hands. Anywhere, he just wanted her to touch him.

But when he opened his eyes, he saw that she had picked her phone up again felt pathetic to still be grinding. But he couldn't stop himself, not when he felt so sensitive and felt like comming already. So, he used his own hands to pinch his nipples and travel on his abdomen and neck – they weren't as soft as hers but felt good nevertheless.

"Oh fuck," he breathed as his body felt hotter and his pace of rubbing increased and then broke. It was hard to keep it the same when he felt pleasure getting more intense and he kept on touching his body.

"Stop."

His hips stuttered once, but they didn't stop. "Hm- w-what?" He asked, still going.

"I said, stop. Won't say it again," Y/n said from below him, her voice stern and her phone gone.

Harry stopped, but his hips were still twitching every other second. He looked down when her hands held his hips in place, and met her furious eyes. He got off of her when she lowered her leg and watched in despair when she got off the bed.

She moved to braid her hair in front of the mirror and Harry felt like he was going to lose it. "I need to come, please. I'll do anything," Harry begged, his eyes glazed over and mind fuzzy. He was aching so badly, he just needed to release.

Y/n walked back to the bed, and offered him her hand to help him get off the bed. Her brows were raised at the corners, and her eyes had fallen into angry slits.

Harry met the floor on wobbly legs, and kept holding her hand as she took the two of them to the bathroom. He wasn't even confused, he just wanted to come.

"I'm going to punish you in front of the mirror, so you can see just how bratty and pathetic you are." Her tone was firm and slightly disapproving, as she switched on the lights.

Harry was pulsing by now, sure that he was going to burst if she even brushed against his body. "Sit." She commanded him and he slid atop the counter which had a mirror in front of it. Right now, his back was faced the mirror. "Back on that wall," Y/n ordered him again, tapping her foot impatiently as she watched him dumbly figure out the obvious position.

"Took my dumb baby too long to just sit?" She teased him, lowering her head to look at him when he looked down. "Why so shy now?" She cooed at him, raising his chin by her thumb and index finger.

"Please," he whispered again, looking at her with doe eyes and wobbly lips.

Y/n only hummed in response, brushing away the waves that had fallen and stuck on this forehead. "Begging is a good look for you," she told him, a small smile on her face as she wiped the sweat off of his skin and pressed a chaste kiss on his lips.

"I'll give you one more chance to be a good boy," she said and watched his eyes light up. "Spread your legs for me."

And Harry did, very eagerly so. He turned to look at himself in the mirror on her command and saw 'just how pathetic he looked'. His cock sat on his tummy, achingly hard – its tip an angry red and beads of precum leaking from its slit.

"See, what a mess you are and I haven't even touched you once," she bragged with a proud smirk. "Looking so fucked out already," she teased, chuckling when his cheeks turned red.

"You wanted to come, right? Think you've earned it?" She asked him, her hands behind her back. She scoffed at his silence, "sure you did."

Bending towards him, she placed her hands on his thighs. "So, you will come." She said as if she had it planned all along. And before Harry could do or feel anything else, she was spitting in her hand. "Colour?" She asked, and held his cock when he mumbled "green." She gave him a few strokes before leaning further in to press a kiss right on his slit.

He hissed at the feeling, and already started bucking into her hands. "Sit still or I will stop," he heard her say and placed his bum down again, feeling overwhelmed will all the pleasure. He felt so sensitive down there, that he was ready to come already.

Y/n wrapped her mouth around his cock, and started sucking on it. She didn't go all the way down, instead pumped the length that wasn't in the mouth, with her hand. The precum kept leaking in her mouth and she kept spurting little bits of it out, watching as it slid down his girth. She was having fun, watching as he ached to move but was wise enough to not fuck up his one chance of getting a release.

She felt his thighs start to shake and his veins grow more prominent under her hold, and knew he was going to cum.

"Fuck, fuck- m-mommy, gonna cum-" he stuttered. So she sucked just a bit harder, swept a kitten lick once more on his slit and he was shooting ropes of white cum in her mouth. And, when she backed away just after a few, some of the cum went on her chin and the rest went on her hand.

Tera were slipping down Harry's cheeks as he quivered. He felt way too sensitive now but he also felt as he was electrified. Ecstasy and bliss flowed in his body at the release and he felt like he could come again just by reminiscing on the pleasure he was feeling.

But he felt too sensitive so when he opened his eyes, and saw Y/n wipe the cum off her chin and hold it out for him to lick, he did and had her finger come out clean.

"Such a good little pup, aren't you?" She praised him, wiping the tears away. A little pout formed on her lips, "came so fast – barely even touched you," she said and Harry knew the pout was to mock him.

She moved away and wiped some sweat off of her own forehead. "Think I want a taste one more time, do you think you can give it to me?"

"Too sens-sensitive, mommy," Harry whispered.

"But you wanted to come baby – you thought you'd earned it!" Y/n claimed, looking at him with a surprised expression. "I think you should come once more, after all, you were so good for me all night," she shrugged with a chuckle.

Harry felt mocked and taunted and as much as he wanted to be offended, he didn't feel so. Instead, he felt blood rush to his dick yet the tip was so sensitive that the slight breath of Y/n was making him wince.

"Gonna be your g-good boy, mommy," Harry choked out.

"Cry all you want, baby– I'm starting to think you're quite enjoying this," Y/n said with her gaze settled on Harry's hard on. "Such a brat," she teased him, looking at his flushed face.

Y/n leaned in again, this time she was kneeled on the floor as she took him in all the way. His tip went a little past the back of her throat and she gagged, before pulling him out completely.

She wiped the saliva off her chin by the back of her hand as she looked up at the way he had thrown his head back. "Don't close your eyes, baby. Look at me," she calmly ordered him.

Still looking up at him, she took his cock in her mouth again. Now, she going all the way in with every bob of her head. Saliva mixed with his precum trickled down her chin and on the marble floor as gagging and gurgling sounds filled the bathroom.

She still hadn't looked away, her eyes had glossed over and Harry felt the knot in his belly moving lower and lower. God, she was being so messy he felt like bursting at the seams.

She backed off for a minute to breath. "What was that?" She asked him when she saw his mouth move. "Can't hear you over all the noise you're making, baby," she said, taunting him again.

"So- so good mommy," Harry heaved, his lips bitten and face looking as if it was sprayed with water.

"Aw, you're out of breath! Was that too fast baby?" She laughed, getting up on her knees again. The floor below her was a bit slippery now because of her sweat and the mess she had made. She smiled when Harry chuckled and shook his head lightly before she took him in her mouth again.

She sucked on his sensitive tip for a bit before taking him in, inch by inch with each bob of her head.

"Jusus- fuck I'm gonna come again," she heard Harry groan, and increased her pace. She reached his base, the baby hair tickling her nose as she stayed like that before backing off. She took a huge breath in before going all the way down again.

The tip of his cock hit the back of her throat again and again, and the gurgling sounds were back. Her hand crawled up his chest before she started pinching and twisting his nipple, while her other hand played with his tight balls.

"O-oh mommy! I'm cumming, I'm cum-cumming," Harry shrieked, heaving heavily and shaking before he felt himself start to release in her mouth.

Y/n though wasn't stopping which caused the cum to dribble down her chin along with her saliva. The floor below her was covered in the mess she had made and when she finally took her mouth off of him, she had completely milked him out and immediately sat back on the floor.

"Fuck, that was good," she chuckled, breathing heavily. Some of the hair strands had fallen out of her braid, and framed her face while the white t-shirt she had been wearing was drenched in sweat and her saliva, making her boobs quite visible. "Another one, baby? Think you deserve one more?" She laughed.

Harry remained limp atop the counter, heaving with his eyes closed and a small grin on his mouth. His hair was sticking on his forehead again and lips were bitten into a sharp pink colour. "Can never earn that mouth of yours," he laughed dryly, shaking his head with all his might.

632 notes · View notes

ijustmissyouraccenths · 2 days

Text

Love Story

Colette is an up and coming actor, Harry is an international popstar who fell in love with cinema. When the pair work on a rendition of Romeo and Juliet, their worlds collide as feelings develop.

CW: Brief mention of dying, Smut.

Word Count: 11,860

Colette stepped into her dressing room, a lavishly appointed space designed to echo the opulence of the Verona in which her film "Romeo and Juliet" was set. The walls were draped in deep burgundy velvet curtains, softening the room with a rich, warm texture that whispered of hidden secrets and dramatic declarations. Golden accents framed mirrors and furniture, reflecting the flickering light from several ornately carved silver candelabras positioned thoughtfully around the room.

As she entered, her eyes were drawn to the vanity, an exquisite piece of craftsmanship with an expansive mirror bordered by tiny bulbs that bathed the area in a gentle, flattering light. Upon the surface lay an array of cosmetics and brushes, each laid out with precision, their handles catching glints of light like miniature scepters waiting to bestow their magic upon her.

The air was filled with a subtle scent of roses and myrrh, creating an atmosphere that was both calming and invigorating, as if the very essence of romance and tragedy had been captured and dispersed through the room. A large window draped with heavy curtains looked out upon a secluded garden that boasted marble statues peeking through lush greenery—Juliet's own secret sanctuary.

Colette’s costume hung on a dress form; it was a stunning creation of silk and lace, the fabric dyed in shades of moonlight and adorned with delicate embroidery that mimicked the intricate patterns of an Italian tapestry. The bodice was fitted, designed to accentuate her figure while allowing for the dramatic movements required in her scenes.

Next to the dress stood a pair of custom-made shoes, their leather soft and supple, seeming almost alive, like they were molded from a piece of night itself. They were embellished with small pearls and crystals, which twinkled like stars against the shadowy backdrop.

On a small table beside her plush, velvet-covered chaise lounge lay her script, its pages worn from use yet handled with reverence. It was flanked by a quill and an inkpot—an affectation provided by the director to inspire connection to the era they were emulating—as well as a delicate teacup painted with scenes from Shakespeare’s works.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself amidst this feast for senses—a real-life canvas painted with details fit for royalty—Colette prepared mentally to step once again into Juliet's world: one where love defied reason and every corner held both beauty and sorrow. She sat at her vanity, poised to transform under the artful hands of her makeup artist, ready to breathe life into Shakespeare's timeless lover once more.

The door to her dressing room opened with a soft creak, heralding the arrival of Madame Laurette, the makeup artist whose skills transformed actresses into visions from another time. Clad in a smock splattered with the remnants of foundation and rouge from previous masterpieces, Madame Laurette carried an ancient-looking leather case, which she set down with a practiced grace next to Colette.

"Ah, my dear," Madame Laurette began, her voice a soothing melody, "today we paint the tragedy and triumph of young love upon your canvas." Her hands were deft as they opened the case, revealing rows upon rows of pots and brushes, pencils and palettes; tools of the trade laid out like a surgeon's instruments, each with a purpose to bring forth beauty from bareness.

With delicate fingers, Madame Laureette applied a light moisturizer to Colette's face, preparing the skin like a primed canvas. She then used a sponge to dab on foundation that matched Colette's complexion so perfectly it seemed as if it were but a whisper on her skin. As she worked, she spoke softly about the character of Juliet—her passion, her grace, her strength in the face of despair.

Next came the eyes—windows to Juliet's soul. Madame Laurette chose shades that reflected the hues of twilight; dusky purples and soft blues blended seamlessly to suggest a depth of emotion. The eyeliner was applied in a fine line, accentuating the shape of Colette's eyes, making them appear larger, more expressive. Lashes were curled and coated with mascara that made them flutter like the wings of a night moth.

Cheeks were next attended with a brush dusted in rose-pink blush that brought a gentle bloom to her porcelain skin, reminiscent of English roses in bloom. It was as if Juliet herself had paused in a garden, momentarily caught up in thoughts of her Romeo.

Lips were not forgotten—painted in a soft red that was bold yet not overwhelming—a color that whispered of promises and kissed by starlight. As Madame Laurette worked her magic, the transformation from actress to character was nearly complete.

Finally, Madame Laurette set everything with a light dusting of powder which seemed to pull forth an ethereal glow from within Colette herself. Standing back to admire her work, she nodded slightly as if granting approval to proceed with the act.

As Madame Laurette packed away her tools and bid her farewell with wishes of good luck, Colette took one last look at herself in the mirror. Now staring back was Juliet Capulet: tragic yet triumphant in her love—a young woman framed not only by curls dark as raven wings but also by an aura of timeless romance that would soon spill over onto the stage under countless watching stars.

Her movements were infused with an anticipatory grace that seemed woven from the very threads of the narratives she was set to embody. The costume assistant approached, a vision of focus and professionalism, carrying the garment that would complete the transformation: a dress that seemed spun from moonlight and gossamer dreams.

The dress itself was a masterpiece of historical accuracy blended with theatrical flair. Its fabric was a whisper-soft silk that flowed like water over Colette's form, pooling slightly at her feet in a shimmering cascade of sky-blue. Intricate embroidery adorned the bodice, featuring delicate vines and flowers meticulously stitched with silver thread, catching the light with every subtle movement and suggesting a lattice of morning dew. Sleeves of sheer chiffon draped elegantly from her shoulders, airy and almost translucent, giving her arms the appearance of being wrapped in wisps of cloud.

As she stepped into the dress, the assistant deftly laced up the back, pulling the strings tight enough to sculpt her waist without hindering breath—a crucial balance for any performer. The final touch was a delicate ribbon tied in a bow just below her collarbone, a nod to youthful innocence and burgeoning romance.

Once dressed, Colette floated towards the full-length mirror, her steps tentative yet poised as though she were both discovering and remembering Juliet’s haunted grace. Her reflection seemed to transcend time; here was Juliet not as mere fiction, but resurrected in flesh and blood and silk, her eyes alight with both excitement and a hint of sorrow for the tale she was to live anew.

Taking a deep breath that lifted her chest slightly against the soft confines of her dress, Colette turned away from her reflection—away from Juliet's temporary shelter—and made her way out of the dressing room. The corridor outside was lined with flickering candles encased in glass lanterns hanging from ornate metal stands, casting shadows that danced like shy phantoms on the walls.

As she walked, her dress whispered secrets only she could hear, each step a murmur of silk. Exiting the building, she stepped out into an expanse that felt less like part of a film set and more like stepping through a wrinkle in time into Verona itself. The set designers had outdone themselves; cobblestone streets wound beneath balconies overflowing with ivy and blooms. Lamps glowed softly along pathways and a distant fountain murmured in melodious tones.

Here under the vast expanse of an artificial twilight sky beginning to pin itself with stars, Colette paused at the center of an old square waiting for Harry's arrival. In this moment suspended between reality and fiction—where night air kissed her cheeks as sweetly as any lover might—she was neither Colette nor Juliet but something timeless; a whisper of love’s eternal reverie waiting to be awakened by Romeo’s pledge beneath soft-footed shadows.

Colette felt eborn into another age and another life—her heart beating rapidly with anticipation and empathy for her character’s imminent joys and sorrows. She moved towards the set where artificial stars awaited their nightly audience and real emotions would stir under painted skies.

Just as the anticipation in the air reached its peak, Harry emerged from the shadows, a figure pulled from the very pages of Shakespeare. His costume was a masterpiece of Elizabethan artistry—velvet doublet embroidered with intricate silver threads that caught the light with every subtle movement, making him shimmer like a star newly born into the night sky. His breeches were of a similar rich fabric, hugging his legs with a precision that spoke of many hours spent in the tailor’s care. Upon his feet were boots made of soft leather that whispered against the cobblestones as he moved.

His hair, usually untamed and wild, had been tamed into soft waves that framed his face, echoing the romantic heroes of old. Around his neck, a heavy chain with a cross pendant rested against his chest, gleaming softly in the lamplight. His eyes, when they met Colette's, sparkled with a mixture of excitement and nervous energy—the perfect echo of Romeo’s own youthful vibrance and passionate soul.

As Harry walked closer to where Colette stood, waiting in her character's eternal reverie, his presence seemed to draw the very essence of the night towards him. The distant murmur of the fountain seemed to harmonize with his every step, creating a melody that resonated with the quiet rustling of Colette’s gown. Each element of the scene—the glowing lamps along the pathways, the soft rustle of ivy against stone—seemed to lean towards him, as if nature itself was eager to hear the tale these two star-crossed lovers would enact.

The square they occupied breathed with an air of ancient romance; it was as though they had truly stepped back in time and were no longer actors on a set but living embodiments of their characters. The buildings surrounding them wore age like proud badges, their windows darkened save for the occasional flicker of candlelight that suggested life continuing unaware inside. Above them, the crescent moon cradled stars that had witnessed countless tales of love and tragedy.

Harry reached the center of the square, his boots clicking on the cobblestones with a rhythmic certainty. He stopped before Colette, who remained motionless, her gaze fixed upon him with an intensity that belied the serene expression on her face. Her costume—a flowing dress of midnight blue, embroidered with tiny silver threads—whispered tales of bygone elegance as it caught the breeze, fluttering lightly around her ankles.

Clearing his throat softly, Harry began to recite Romeo's lines with a tender fervor that seemed to pull at the very air around him. "But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun." His voice rose and fell in perfect cadence, each word a brushstroke painting emotions across the canvas of the night.

As he spoke, an unexpected gust of wind stirred the leaves around them into a gentle dance, mirroring the turmoil brewing in Romeo's heart as he gazed upon his forbidden love. The scent of rose and old stone mingled together, casting a spell over the scene that was palpable. The director, hidden in the shadows beyond the set's makeshift lights, allowed himself a small smile at the authenticity of this moment—cinema magic in its purest form.

Colette responded in kind, her voice carrying back to Harry with equal parts longing and restraint. "O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?" She stepped forward slightly, her hands clasped before her as if to steady her racing heart. Her eyes never left Harry's, and in them flickered the fire of Juliet's love—a burning, all-consuming flame that acknowledged neither reason nor consequence.

The crew around them had ceased all movement; even those seasoned in film felt themselves caught in the spellbinding performance unfolding before them. The prop master forgot his duties for a moment, lost in the authenticity of Colette's accent and the palpable connection between her and Harry.

Above them, clouds began to drift across the moon's face slowly veiling and unveiling the celestial glow. This natural play of light added a dramatic flair to the scene below—an unwitting collaboration between man and nature that highlighted this poignant moment of shared solitude between two lovers cursed by fate.

Every detail was perfect, the way the lamplight flickered as though trembling with anticipation; how a distant owl hooted right at Juliet’s tender confession; the subtle shift of fabric as Harry moved closer to Colette—contributed to an atmosphere thick with drama and history. Even those behind cameras or holding booms felt as if they were no longer just creating but witnessing something transcendent; a story retold yet forever new in its telling.

As Harry delivered Romeo’s pledge of undying love beneath Juliet's window conceived anew beneath towering oaks and ageless stone buildings, it was clear this was not merely a recitation but an act of truth.

The director, normally a stoic figure shadowed by the breadth of his responsibilities, allowed a rare smile to creep across his face as the final words lingered in the air, trembling like the leaves around them. His approach was silent, reverent almost, as if stepping into a sacred space that the actors had conjured with their spellbinding talent.

"Cut!" he called out, but the word was soft, filled more with awe than command. The silence that followed was profound, filled with the collective held breath of the crew before they erupted into spontaneous applause. The clapping rolled through the set like thunderous waves, each member expressing their unbridled admiration for what they had witnessed.

The director raised his hands, beckoning for quiet, his eyes gleaming with both pride and something akin to gratitude. "That," he said, his voice steady but imbued with emotion, "was nothing short of magnificent. Harry, Colette—I've seen many a scene in my years behind the camera, but what you both have delivered today transcends performance. It reaches into the core of what it means to be human; to love, to despair, to hope."

He walked over to the actors, who were still nestled in their characters' final embrace, slowly returning to themselves as they listened to his praises. "Colette," he continued, turning to her with a respectful nod. "Your Juliet is both vulnerable and fiery; you’ve given her a depth that breathes new life into Shakespeare’s lines. And Harry," he turned with equal admiration to the young actor whose eyes still held a glimmer of Romeo's passion. "You’ve played Romeo not just as a lover but as a warrior fighting against the inevitable tragedy of his fate. Exceptional work."

The surrounding buildings and trees seemed to absorb his words, casting longer shadows as if in agreement. The director then turned towards the crew members who had captured every nuanced moment on film. "And let’s not forget the incredible work of our crew—lighting, sound, props—this magic can’t happen without each piece falling perfectly into place."

He clapped his hands together once more, this time signaling an end rather than silence. "Alright folks, let’s pack up here—remember this feeling of accomplishment. We’ve got early scenes tomorrow and we need to bring this same energy."

As they disbanded gradually, whispers of praise continued amongst them like quiet ripples on a pond at dusk; everyone shared part of the triumph. Juliet’s balcony scene would be remembered not just for its beauty and tragedy but for its vivid realness that evening under the shrouded moonlight—an echo of love carried softly by the wind through the leaves of those ancient trees.

As the crew began to disperse, the air filled with the clatter of equipment being packed and the soft murmur of satisfied conversations. Harry and Colette slowly walked side by side toward the dressing rooms, their costumes slightly less pristine than they had been at the start of the day but still radiant under the fading sunlight. The path was lined with ancient oaks, their branches gnarled and stretched toward the sky like silent watchers of countless tales unfolding under their gaze.

Harry glanced at Colette, noting how the evening breeze gently lifted strands of her hair. She looked ethereal, a stark contrast to the raw intensity she had displayed on stage just moments before. "You were truly magnificent today," he said, his voice carrying a warmth that lingered in the cool air. "It’s amazing how you transform so completely."

Colette smiled, a blush tinting her cheeks. "Thank you, Harry. You were incredible as well. There’s a certain ferocity you bring to Romeo that’s both thrilling and heart-wrenching."

They reached the dressing rooms, tucked behind a curtain of ivy that draped over the stone walls of the old stage building. Its doors stood like portals back to reality from the whimsical world they had just left behind on set.

Pausing by her door, Harry shuffled slightly, a mix of eagerness and hesitation playing across his features. "Colette, I was wondering, would you... perhaps care for some dinner? There’s this little place I know nearby, quite secluded, perfect for winding down."

The offer hung between them like a delicate promise; a chance to extend the enchantment of their shared performance into the evening. Colette’s eyes lit up with genuine interest. "That sounds lovely, Harry. A quiet dinner would be perfect." Her smile was inviting, bridging the gap between their on-set romance and off-set camaraderie.

As they walked towards Harry's car parked under a canopy of whispering leaves, they talked about everything from their interpretations of their characters to trivial anecdotes from their daily lives. The restaurant was nestled in an alley illuminated by strings of faint golden lights that created halos in the misty night air.

Inside, they chose a corner table surrounded by bookshelves filled with worn volumes and odd trinkets—a cozy retreat from the outside world. As they ordered, they continued to unravel layers of conversation, each topic a stepping stone deeper into each other’s thoughts and dreams.

The meal was delicious—simple fare but made with care—a reflection of the restaurant itself. They laughed over shared appetizers and lingered over wine that painted their thoughts in broader strokes. The candlelight flickered across their faces, casting soft shadows that danced to an unplayed rhythm.

By dessert, Harry found himself watching Colette with renewed appreciation as she articulated her ambitions for future roles and her vision for modern theatrical interpretation. She listened equally intently as he described his journey through being a musician and his aspirations beyond.

As Harry and Colette lingered over the last sips of their drinks, the cozy warmth of the restaurant began to feel like a protective cocoon against the crisp night air outside. They shared a quiet moment, smiling at the serendipity of their meeting and the depth of conversation it had spurred. But as they rose to leave, pushing their chairs back gently against the worn wooden floor, the surreal bubble they had enjoyed burst with abrupt clarity.

Stepping out onto the alley, they were met not by the quiet of the night but by a sudden burst of flashing lights and clamorous voices. Paparazzi, having caught wind of their dinner together, swarmed around them like moths to a flame. Cameras clicked and flashed relentlessly, capturing every gesture and expression, as reporters shouted questions trying to pierce through the veil of their private evening.

"Harry! Colette! Are you two more than just co-stars?" one voice rang out, sharper than the rest.

"Is this dinner a sign of a new Hollywood power couple?" another chimed in.

Shields up against this intrusive barrage, Harry instinctively placed a protective arm around Colette’s shoulders. He guided her gracefully yet swiftly towards his car, parked under the now ominous canopy of leaves that whispered secrets in a tone much darker than before. Each flash from the cameras cast stark shadows on the ground and painted their path in fast paced steps.

Colette kept her head down slightly, her smile replaced by a composed mask of cordial indifference; it was clear she was no stranger to these encounters but nonetheless hoped they might evade them tonight. Harry muttered a polite "have a good night" as he helped her into the passenger seat of his car.

Inside the relative safety of the vehicle, they exchanged a look—a mix of amusement and exasperation—and Harry let out a sigh as he started the engine. The lights outside continued to flash through the tinted windows as he maneuvered out of their parking spot.

The drive back was quiet at first, as if they were both processing the sudden shift from intimate conversation to public spectacle. Yet soon enough, Harry turned down the volume on an ambient tune that had started playing automatically when they entered.

"That was intense," he said, glancing over at Colette with an apologetic half-smile.

"It always is," Colette replied, turning to face him with a resigned smile. "But hey, part of our charming careers, right?"

Harry laughed softly. "Yeah, charm is one word for it."

As the car glided through the dimly lit streets, the silence between them grew heavy with unspoken thoughts. Colette broke the tension first, her voice soft but tinged with a hint of frustration.

"I sometimes wonder if this is what we signed up for, you know? The constant scrutiny, the invasion of privacy... Is it worth it in the end?" she mused, her gaze fixed on the passing city lights.

Harry nodded thoughtfully, his grip on the steering wheel tightening imperceptibly. "I ask myself that question too, especially on nights like this. It's like we're always under a microscope, every move dissected and analyzed by strangers."

A sense of comfort blossomed between them, a shared understanding born out of their parallel experiences in the spotlight. Colette turned to Harry, a spark of defiance igniting in her eyes.

"But despite all of that," she continued, her voice gaining strength, "we can't let them define us or dictate our every move. We're more than just their headlines and gossip fodder."

Harry smiled at her resolve, a flicker of admiration shimmering in his eyes. "You're right, Colette. We're artists first and foremost, creators of worlds and emotions."

Their shared conviction filled the car with a renewed sense of purpose, a quiet determination to reclaim their narrative from the prying eyes of the paparazzi. As they neared Colette's apartment building, Harry parked the car with a sense of finality.

"Thank you for tonight," Colette said sincerely, turning to face him with a genuine smile. "Even the chaos at the end, I truly enjoyed our conversation and dinner, it was really good."

Harry returned her smile warmly. "Likewise, Colette. We are more than just co-stars caught in a media frenzy."

As Colette opened the door to her apartment, the image of Harry in his Romeo costume flashed vividly across her mind. His appearance had been a perfect blend of vulnerability and valiance, his attire accentuating the expressive lines of his body as he moved with an almost ethereal grace on stage. The sheer, soft fabric of his shirt clung to him as if it were part of his own skin, and the way the stage lights had caught the highlights in his hair made him look like a figure from an old-world painting—romantic and heroic.

Inside her quiet apartment, everything seemed too still, too empty compared to the warmth of Harry's presence. She tossed her keys on the table absent-mindedly and moved towards her bedroom, her mind replaying their conversation in the car. His words echoed in her ears, blending with flashes of his smile and the intensity in his eyes when he spoke about their artistry. It was as if he'd stripped away all the glitz and scandal that so often cloaked their lives, revealing a raw, sincere connection between them.

Colette tried to settle into bed, pulling her covers close, but restlessness took over. Turning onto her back, she stared at the ceiling, her thoughts spiraling around Harry’s comforting arm around her shoulders earlier that night. She remembered how secure it felt, a protective circle that shut out the incessant flash of cameras and curious stares. The smell of his cologne, a subtle mix of bergamot and sandalwood—seemed to linger on her skin, transporting her back to their fleeting moments of privacy amidst the chaos.

The more she thought about him, the more details came flooding in. How his lips curved into a smile just before he laughed, how his eyes lit up when discussing a particularly passionate scene. Even the way he held himself during their performance—confident yet tender—seemed etched into her memory with surprising clarity.

A sigh escaped her lips as she turned again in bed, fluffing her pillow in vain search for comfort. The digital clock on her bedside table glowed 2:17 AM; time was slipping by slowly tonight. Every tick seemed to resonate within the quiet room, each one reminding her of Harry’s gentle demeanor and unspoken assurances.

Why was it so difficult to push these thoughts aside? Why did every tiny detail of him seem magnified tonight? Colette knew that sleep would be elusive as long as these memories danced through her head, a sweet torment but a torment nonetheless.

Realizing that fighting it was futile, she sat up and reached for a book from her nightstand. Perhaps diving into someone else’s fictional world could ease her back from hers filled with all too real emotions spurred by Harry. Yet as she flipped through page after page, Colette found herself reading without absorbing any words. Her mind was back with Harry, reliving each moment spent together that day.

Finally surrendering to the inexorable pull of those memories, Colette set the book aside and allowed herself to reminisce about every glance exchanged and every laugh shared with Harry until tiredness eventually claimed victory over turmoil—a bittersweet end to an evening that neither camera flashes nor gossip columns could ever truly capture.

As the first rays of morning light began to filter through her gauzy curtains, Colette felt a tentative peace settle over her. The unavoidable sunrise not only heralded a new day but also the unavoidable return to set where today's scenes awaited her—scenes that would force her to bridge the gap between reality and fiction, between Colette and Juliet, Harry and Romeo.

The day unfurled slowly, each moment stretching languidly as if aware of the weight it carried. Colette arrived on set, her heart thrumming a nervous rhythm against the cage of her ribs. The set was a meticulous recreation of Verona, the air perfumed with artificial blooms that lined the faux stone balconies. It was here, beneath a painstakingly crafted balcony, that she found Harry already immersed in his role, his eyes distant yet filled with an intense purpose.

As makeup artists fluttered around them like attentive sprites, dusting their faces with powder and painting their lips, the boundary between Harry and Romeo, Colette and Juliet blurred seamlessly. The director—a wiry man with a penchant for perfection—guided them through their positions with an authoritarian yet oddly paternal touch.

"Remember," he said, his voice low and urgent as if conveying a secret, "this kiss isn’t just about passion. It’s about discovery, wonderment. You’re unveiling layers of your soul to one another."

Taking their places, Harry extended his hand with a gallantry that could either be attributed to him or to Romeo—it was hard to tell at this juncture. As Colette placed her hand in his, their fingers tentatively entwining, she wondered if he felt the same electric surge that ran up her arm.

The cameras rolled silently, capturing every nuanced expression. Around them, the crew faded into obscurity; it was just Harry and Colette, Romeo and Juliet. As Harry spoke his lines—the words Shakespeare penned centuries ago—his voice wove around her heart like a tender vine. His gaze held hers captive and in that moment, under the watchful eyes of countless unseen spectators both present and future, fiction turned into a palpable reality.

With the gentlest of motions indicative of both apprehension and certainty, Harry drew closer. His breath mingled with hers—a sweet prelude to the imminent ballet of their lips. When their lips finally met in an embrace as old as time yet fresh like dew on morning leaves, there was a hush on set so profound that even the rustle of fabric seemed sacrilege.

The kiss deepened not out of direction but from an intrinsic need to explore the burgeoning emotion that had started off as an onscreen farce but had bloomed into something indefinably real. They existed in the breath between lines; in the silence between words—their world distilled into the small space between their intertwined fingers and mingling breaths.

As they parted—an infinity encapsulated in seconds—their gazes lingered longingly; not solely because the script demanded it but because their souls hesitated to disentangle.

"Cut!" The director's voice sliced through the thick curtain of emotion, abrupt yet not unkind.

Applause broke out among the crew, bringing Harry and Colette back from Verona to the soundstage. Yet something lingered in their shared glance, a spark that neither the stark lights of the studio nor the return to their own separate lives could dim. As they stepped away from each other, there was an awkward moment of hesitation, a mutual recognition of something undefined and new swirling between them.

The rest of the day passed in a daze of repeated scenes and whispered lines. Colette found herself more aware of Harry's presence, every look and every touch magnified under the scrutinizing lens of her newfound feelings. Off-camera, they joked and laughed, but there was an unspoken agreement in their smiles, a secret tucked away behind their lighthearted banter.

When filming wrapped for the day, Colette felt the exhaustion from emotional strain more than from physical demand. The carousel of her thoughts kept spinning as she drove home, the ghost of Harry’s touch lingering like a promise on her skin.

Back at her apartment, she knew she ought to eat something or perhaps review scripts for tomorrow's shoot. Instead, she found herself at her window, gazing out into the twilight cityscape, her mind replaying every encounter with Harry. It wasn't just their characters who had discovered new emotional landscapes; Colette feared she was standing on the precipice of a revelation herself.

Her phone rang, slicing through her silence. She hesitated before answering, half-hoping it was Harry. It was her agent instead.

"Colette! Todays news came in; you were absolutely sublime! Everyone’s buzzing about the chemistry between you and Harry," her agent enthused over the line. Though meant as praise, each word weighed heavy on her soul like stones filling her pockets.

"Thanks," Colette managed to say, her voice a mere whisper against the storm inside her. "That means a lot."

"Listen," her agent continued, oblivious to Colette's turmoil, "There’s talk already about future projects for you two—maybe even some endorsements together. This could be huge for your career."

Her career. Right. That’s what mattered. Yet as Colette ended the call and sat back against the soft cushions of her couch, she couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps this time, something else mattered more.

She finally allowed herself to consider the possibility that what was scripted for Romeo and Juliet might have woven itself into the fabric of reality for Harry and herself. Could life imitate art to such a degree? Or was it merely caught up in the whirlwind of creating something beautiful together?

The night deepened around Colette as she sat alone with her thoughts. She knew decisions lay ahead, decisions about how far she should let this potential off-screen relationship develop amidst their on-screen romance. Tonight though, she would allow herself one certainty: that in all her roles, both lived and acted, nothing had ever felt quite as dangerous or as genuine as whatever was unfolding with Harry.

The room dimmed further as the last strains of sunlight vanished, leaving only the flickering shadows cast by the streetlamps outside. Colette's mind, a whirlpool of longing and rationality, began to conjure vivid scenes of Harry reciting lines from their recent scenes. Each word, artfully delivered with his rich, emotive voice, seemed to echo through her now quiet apartment, filling the spaces between her scattered thoughts.

He had stood there on stage, beneath the opulent glow of the set lights, his eyes finding hers in the scripted moments that felt all too real. "But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks?" Harry's voice had quivered slightly with a passion that transcended performance. Colette remembered how her heart had leapt at those words, how the scripted distance between them seemed to collapse in a singularity of shared emotion.

As Romeo, he had been impetuous yet earnest, his every motion weaving a spell of youthful ardor and desperate love. And now, alone, she let her mind replay those scenes—his beseeching gaze, his hands reaching not just for Juliet but for Colette herself. Could it be that each line he delivered was an arrow aimed directly at her heart? The balcony scene unfolded again in her thoughts: Harry's silhouette framed by the mock Verona backdrop they had on set. "With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls; For stony limits cannot hold love out," he had declared fervently.

Could stony limits hold her emotions at bay? Her career had always been a fortress of sorts—a necessity to keep vulnerability at bay. But Harry’s portrayal of Romeo dismantled her defenses brick by brick, not through sheer force but through the tender strength of shared vulnerability.

In her mind's eye, Colette wandered back to a moment during rehearsals when Harry had improvised—off-script yet profoundly resonant—speaking directly to her soul beyond the bounds of their characters. "And yet I wish but for the thing I have: My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite." How his eyes had held hers, unwavering!

The thought brought an unexpected tear to Colette's eye—a tear for the uncertain future, for the potential hardships they might face together or apart, but also a tear for the beauty of a connection that might just transcend the ephemeral world of acting.

Colette rose from the couch and moved towards her window. Gazing out into the starlit cityscape, she pondered over these newly tapped depths within her heart. Perhaps tomorrow she would make decisions with consequences she couldn't yet foresee. But tonight belonged to dreams and whispered lines—a night where Harry's recitations from Romeo and Juliet swirled around her heart like a sweet yet potent incantation. Tonight was not about contracts or cameras. It was about understanding that what they might share could be as profound and real as any love story ever penned—an ode not written by Shakespeare but lived by two hearts daring enough to explore it.

As the hours ticked by, the city outside her window slowly transformed. The glaring neon signs dimmed to a soft glow, and the relentless honking of cars turned into a distant murmur, as if even New York herself had decided to catch her breath. In that serene quietude, amidst the gentle rustle of leaves and the occasional chirping of a late-night bird, Colette's mind kept returning to Harry—to his eyes, his voice, his surprisingly delicate touch on stage.

She tried reading a book, but the words blurred into meaningless shapes as her thoughts danced back to those moments onstage when the air between them seemed charged with an electric intensity. It was in those moments when Harry's voice would deepen just so, casting out lines like spells that wrapped around her heart, binding it inexplicably to him.

Restlessness finally got the better of Colette. With a sigh, she set aside her book and picked up her phone. Her thumb hovered over Harry's contact—for a moment she hesitated—but then, driven by an impulse she neither questioned nor understood fully, she pressed call.

The phone rang briefly before Harry's familiar voice filled the line. "Colette? Is everything alright?"

"I couldn't sleep," she confessed softly, the words feeling both foolish and necessary.

There was a pause—a thoughtful silence—and then Harry’s voice came again, quietly intense. "Come over, then. I’ve been trying to distract myself with scripts and lyrics, but it seems tonight is bent on being restless."

A small smile touched her lips; relief washed through her in gentle waves. "Give me twenty minutes?"

"Take your time," he replied with such warmth that it felt like a hug through the phone.

When Colette arrived at Harry’s apartment—a modest yet cozy space filled with stacks of books and paintings that spilled from every corner—she found him sitting on the balcony overlooking the twinkling skyline. He had two cups of tea steaming gently on a small table between them.

As she stepped out onto the balcony, he rose to greet her with an ease that belied his earlier restlessness. They didn’t speak much initially; words seemed superfluous as they sipped their tea and let the city’s nocturnal symphony envelop them.

It was only after both cups were emptied that Harry spoke again, his voice soft but clear against the backdrop of whispering winds. "You know," he began hesitantly, "tonight reminds me of our final act last week—the way Juliet looks at Romeo with such... such unguarded hope.”

"Yes," Colette whispered back, feeling that familiar pull in her chest—the inexplicable connection that seemed to thrive in shared silences and stolen glances rather than grand declarations.

"Sometimes," Harry continued, turning to face her more fully now, "I wonder whether we’re more than just actors playing parts—whether some scenes bleed into reality without us even noticing."

Colette reached out then, touching his hand lightly. "Maybe they do," she said simply. And for a long while after that, they sat there together—two figures etched against a sprawling cityscape—finding solace in each other's presence and in the quiet conviction that tonight was not merely about roles or rehearsals; it was about discovering truths hidden within lines delivered.

As the night deepened and the city's sounds ebbed into a lulling quiet, the conversation between Harry and Colette drifted from their characters' tragic romance to their own realities—careers that were as dazzling as they were demanding, personal lives constantly scrutinized by the public eye, and futures uncertain but full of potential.

"Sometimes I think about stepping away," Harry admitted, his gaze locked on the distant lights. "From the music, from the films—just to see who I am when the lights go off."

Colette nodded. The vulnerability in his voice resonated with her own unspoken fears. "It's as though we're constantly wearing masks, isn't it? Onstage or off, it's hard to tell where the character ends and where we begin."

"Yeah," he sighed. "Tonight though, being here with you—it feels real. No scripts, no audience." His eyes met hers with an intensity that sent a shiver through her.

She smiled, feeling a sense of kinship forge deeper between them. "No masks," she whispered.

They sat for a moment in silence, each lost in contemplation of the rare simplicity this evening had brought them—a stark contrast to their everyday chaos. Harry eventually stood up, stretching his arms towards the starry sky before offering his hand to her. "Come on, let’s take a walk. The night’s too beautiful to spend it all sitting down."

Reluctantly leaving their secluded spot, they wandered down quiet streets lined with barely lit cafes and closed bookstores, their steps synchronized in comfortable silence. Every so often, Harry would point out an old theater or a quaint little art gallery he’d visited during his tours. Colette listened intently, her heart swelling with an affection that was new and yet profoundly familiar.

As they turned back towards Harry's apartment, he stopped suddenly under a streetlamp’s soft glow. "I haven't felt this... peaceful in months," he confessed, looking at her with an earnestness that made her heart skip.

She reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. "Neither have I," she said. "It’s easy to forget what quiet feels like when your life is full of noise."

Harry nodded, his gaze lingering on her face as if memorizing every detail. "Do you think it's possible? To find peace amidst all the turmoil?"

"I think," she started, pausing to gather her thoughts under his attentive gaze, "it's about finding the right person to share in those quiet moments—the ones who hear the music in your silences."

A warm smile spread across Harry's face as he drew her closer. Underneath that streetlamp, amid the sleeping city and beneath an audience of stars, they found a momentary escape—not as Romeo and Juliet caught in Shakespearean tragedy nor as celebrities shadowed by fames relentless spotlight—but simply as Harry and Colette discovering solace within each other's company.

As they slowly headed back to his apartment, hands entwined with silent promises of more shared nights like this one, both understood that while their careers might pull them in different directions come morning, tonight was theirs—a night marked not by dialogues written by playwrights long gone but by honest words exchanged between two souls navigating through life’s vast stage together.

She felt the warmth of his hand in hers, the roughness of his skin against her own soft palm, sending shivers down her spine. She looked up at him, taking in the way he moved, so confident and yet so gentle at the same time. Colette couldn't help but feel safe in his presence. The sound of their footsteps echoed on the empty sidewalk, mixing with the distant hum of traffic and occasional howl of a lonesome siren. As they turned into an alleyway, she breathed in the scent of freshly baked bread from a nearby bakery, mingling with the stale smoke from a cigarette butt left behind by some passerby. The stars above twinkled like diamonds scattered across a midnight sky, their light guiding them home.

They walked hand in hand beneath the glow of the streetlamp, casting shadows on the brick wall behind them as they stepped forward. The rhythm of their stride became synced, almost like they were dancing to an unknown melody. Every now and then, Harry would point out constellations he recognized or make up stories about the ones he didn't, his voice deep and soothing like velvet caressing her ears. His laughter rang out when she teased him about his astronomical knowledge—or lack thereof—and she loved how genuine it sounded despite everything that surrounded them.

Colette paused for a moment to look at a painting on an old doorstep; it was beautifully executed yet marred by graffiti tags that told stories of love lost and hearts broken. Harry stood beside her, looking over her shoulder as if seeing it for the first time too. She noticed how his presence made even this decrepit alleyway seem somehow beautiful.

They continued walking, their steps echoing softly against the pavement as they neared Harry's apartment building. As they reached the front door, he stopped and with a flourish produced a set of keys from his jeans pocket. The metal jangled softly against each other as he unlocked it, and then they stepped inside out of the cool night air into the warmth of his cozy living room. Setting down her purse, Colette looked around at the familiar surroundings - the worn sofa, the bookshelf filled with favorite novels and framed photographs from past adventures, and the unlit fireplace waiting for winter evenings. The musty smell of old books mingled with freshly brewed coffee drifting from the kitchenette.

"Well," Harry began as he shut the door behind them, "I guess this is where our little adventure ends."

Colette's heart sank at his words but she forced a smile anyway. "Yeah... it was fun while it lasted."

"It always is," he agreed quietly, moving towards her and giving her one last hug before gently pushing her towards the door. "You should get some sleep though, early morning meeting tomorrow."

With one final wave goodnight, Colette slipped through the door and into the hallway, hearing it click shut behind her. Outside on the sidewalk, she took a deep breath of the cool night air and felt a slight shiver run down her spine as reality came crashing back in - work in the morning with its emails and deadlines and office politics. But for now, she allowed herself to linger on the memory of their night together: The taste of wine on her tongue still lingering; the soft buzz from alcohol fading; Harry's touch still lingering on her skin like tiny electric shocks.

As Colette closed the door behind her, she could hear the familiar clicking sound filling her with a sense of finality. The night air was crisp against her skin, carrying with it a chill that sent shivers down her spine as she took in deep breaths of the city outside. Her mind was still reeling from the events of the evening; it had been an unforgettable journey into a world she never imagined existed. But alas, all good things must come to an end, and now she found herself standing on the sidewalk once more, back in reality. The neon lights from nearby stores cast an artificial glow upon the pavement as she stepped away from Harry's cozy apartment and began to walk towards home. The sound of footsteps echoed on concrete as cars honked their horns in the distance, creating a symphony of urban noise that surrounded her.

She could still feel Harry's embrace pressing against her back as if he were wrapping his arms around hers again, sending tingles up and down her spine with each step she took away from him. She could still taste the sweetness of red wine dancing on her tongue - its tartness mixing with the lingering taste of their passionate kisses as if it were a bitter-sweet symphony only they shared. She let out a soft sigh and looked up at the starry sky above; the sight always managed to calm her nerves but tonight it only served as a reminder that their time together was over.

The streets were empty save for a few late-night stragglers making their way home from parties or bars, their laughter and music fading into nothingness as Colette walked further down the block. A soft breeze rustled through trees lining the sidewalk, leaves whispering secrets only they knew while carrying with them.

Once Colette made it home she brushed her teeth and went into her cozy bed wrapped around in her favorite cotton pajamas, snuggling deep into the softness of her sheets. She reached over to her phone on the bedside table and saw Harry's name still glowing on the screen. A smile tugged at her lips as she remembered their last goodbye

As she drifted off, Colette imagines walking through Central Park once more. The crisp air rustled through trees, carrying with it the scent of autumn - earthy and musky. She could hear the sound of leaves crunching underfoot and see birds flitting from branch to branch overhead. They sat together on a bench, leaning against one another as they watched nature's greatest show for free. He held her hand closely, lacing fingers between hers as if they were always meant to be entwined like that. And then she felt a drop of rain on her nose, followed by another one on her cheek. They both laughed as they ran hand in hand towards his apartment; their shoes splashing through puddles left behind by an unexpected shower that cloud-covered sky promised earlier in the day.

Colette woke up with that same coolness brushing against her face but found herself alone in bed instead of curled up with Harry. The memory lingered like a fond dream but faded away with each blink until all that was left was reality.

Colette got ready and made her way over to the studio, today was the last day of scenes, and the scene where Romeo and Juliet meet their demise.

As she entered the bustling set, the weight of the final day pressed on her shoulders like a heavy curtain about to fall for the last time. The air was thick with a mix of excitement and melancholy, as everyone from the crew to the cast moved with a purposeful urgency, aware that this chapter was closing. Colette brushed past the props and costume racks, her mind still tangled in thoughts of Harry and the night that they had spent wrapped in each other’s company.

She found herself in front of her dressing room mirror, staring at her own reflection as she slipped into Juliet's intricate gown. Each layer of fabric seemed to wrap her tighter, not just in character but also in the realization that soon she would have to strip away this identity that had become a second skin over months of filming.

"Knock knock," came a familiar voice from the door. It was Harry, leaning against the frame with that charming smile that always seemed to disarm her.

"Hey," Colette replied, her heart skipping a beat. "Ready for the grand finale?"

"As I'll ever be," Harry said, stepping inside and helping adjust a loose strand of her hair. "It’s surreal, isn’t it? Feels like just yesterday we were stumbling through our first lines together and today we die together."

Colette nodded, feeling the corners of her eyes moisten. "I'm going to miss us—this."

Harry took her hand gently, squeezing it reassuringly. "The end of one story, Colette. Not the end of everything."

Together, they walked onto the set where the final scene awaited them—a beautifully tragic conclusion to Shakespeare’s timeless tale. The set was a somber array of shadows and light, perfectly crafting an ambiance befitting their last moment as Romeo and Juliet.

As they stepped into their marks, silence enveloped the set. The director called for quiet on set and slowly, every surrounding noise dulled into obscurity until there was nothing but the fictional world they were anchored in.

"Action!" came the resolute call.

The scene unfolded with an intensity that mirrored the raw emotions both Harry and Colette felt. They delivered their lines with a palpable passion, their voices laced with the poignant realization of both the characters' and their own impending separation. As Romeo, Harry took a vial of poison, his hands trembling slightly—a detail that added a layer of desperate realism to his performance. Colette, as Juliet, lay motionless on the stone-cold crypt, her chest rising and falling subtly, awaiting her final cue.

When it came time for Juliet to awaken, Colette's eyes fluttered open to meet Harry's gaze one last time. The sorrow in his eyes was reflected in hers; no longer just acting, they were living their characters' tragedy. As she spoke her last lines, a tear escaped down her cheek, blurring the boundary between performance and reality.

The potent mix of fiction and their personal goodbye charged through their final kiss, drawing a silent gasp from the crew around them. As Juliet drove Romeo's dagger into her chest, Colette collapsed beside Harry with a grace that spoke volumes of the artistry she had poured into her role.

For a few heartbeats after the director called "Cut!" nobody moved. The echo of their lines lingered in the air, heavy with the weight of finality. It was only when the applause broke out that Harry and Colette were pulled back from Verona to the stark reality of the studio set.

Still lying beside each other on the cold ground of the set crypt, they turned to look at each other one last time. The clapping around them faded into a distant murmur as Harry reached out to brush away another tear from Colette’s cheek.

“That was...” Harry started but seemed unable to find the right words.

“Beautiful,” Colette finished for him, her voice barely above a whisper. “And absolutely fucking heartbreaking.”

They helped each other up and took a bow to the crew whose cheers had now filled up space like light flooding into dark corners. It was over — their journey as star-crossed lovers had come to an end on screen.

Just then, the director, a tall figure with a rumpled look that spoke of endless days and sleepless nights, stepped into the circle of light. He adjusted his glasses, looking from Harry to Colette with an expression torn between admiration and the perpetual dissatisfaction of a perfectionist.

"Truly magnificent," he pronounced, though his voice carried a but that hung in the air unspoken. The crew quieted, sensing there was more to come. "However," he continued, casting a quick glance at the cameraman who nodded sheepishly, "we had a slight glitch with the lighting. One of our key lights flickered out right at the crucial moment."

A collective sigh rippled through the team, mixed with a few suppressed groans. Yet no one protested— they all knew the importance of getting it just right.

"We need to go for another take," the director declared firmly. The disappointment was palpable, but so was the resolve to perfect the art they were all crafting together.

Harry and Colette exchanged a look of weary determination. Without a word, they moved back to their starting positions beside the stone altar that served as Juliet's final resting place.

As the crew reset their equipment, Harry glanced around at the towering set pieces that recreated Verona's gothic splendor. Artificial moonlight streamed through stained glass windows crafted from gel and plastic but beautiful nonetheless. Shadows danced along walls textured to look like ancient stone, casting eerie patterns that whispered of old secrets and timeless tragedies.

Colette smoothed her velvet gown—a rich crimson that pooled around her like spilled wine—and repositioned her hairpiece, tucking a stray lock behind her ear before she lay down once more on the cold faux-marble slab.

The props master darted forward to adjust the placement of the dagger—a replica so finely crafted it seemed as sharp as truth itself—before scurrying away as silently as he had arrived.

"Places everyone!" called the assistant director, a sprightly woman whose energy seemed inexhaustible. Her voice cut through the murmured conversations and last-minute adjustments, snapping everyone back to attention.

As silence reclaimed the set, encapsulating it in a tense bubble of anticipation, the director looked over his tableau one last time. Satisfied, he lifted his hand high then brought it down sharply.

"And... action!"

In a haunting moment, Colette delved deeper into her character, her eyes brimming with an unfathomable anguish originating not in physical torment but in the profound intertwining of loss and love. As she enacted plunging the steel through heart and bone with tragic precision, Harry’s response mirrored her intensity—his visage a masterful portrayal of despair and utter helplessness.

Silently, the cameras rolled, capturing each subtle nuance: the taut muscles beneath Juliet's delicate makeup; Romeo's trembling fingertips reaching across unseen barriers; Colette's quivering shoulders as she drew breaths heavy with sorrow. When she crumpled beside Harry once more, her descent seemed like a graceful surrender—a fragile leaf succumbing to its inevitable fall.

The seconds stretched endlessly until once again the director called out "Cut!" His voice broke through Colette’s final shuddering breaths and this time when he spoke there was no hiding his satisfaction. "Perfect," he said simply, nodding with fervor.

The applause that erupted was spontaneous and heartfelt, echoing around the cavernous studio like waves crashing against a shore. Crew members wiped away tears, caught in the emotional riptide of the scene they had just witnessed.

Harry and Colette, still entangled on the ground, finally allowed themselves a small smile—exhausted, relieved, and a little incredulous at the magic they had managed to recreate. As they stood up, their faces glistening with sweat and theatrical tears, they were enveloped in a series of eager hugs and congratulations from everyone around them.

The makeup artists hurried over with their kits ready to do touch-ups, but for a moment nobody touched Harry or Colette; it was as if their looks were sacred, perfectly capturing the essence of the poignant tragedy they had just embodied. The director approached them, clapping Harry on the back and kissing Colette on both cheeks.

"I couldn't have asked for more," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You both brought Juliet and Romeo to life in a way I never could have envisioned when we first started this project."

Harry, catching his breath, nodded appreciatively. "It felt right," he admitted, looking down at his costume, stained with artificial blood that somehow felt all too real at that moment.

Colette brushed a tear from her cheek and laughed lightly. "I think I'm going to miss her," she confessed, referring to Juliet. "It's strange how a character can become a part of you."

As they made their way off the set, passing through the constructed archways and past the fabricated stone tombs, there was a collective sense of completion but also of loss; the world they had created was temporary, its dissolution inevitable now that the film was wrapped.

The wrap party later that evening was a lively affair held at a local venue adorned with replicas of props and costumes from the film. The mood was buoyant yet bittersweet as cast and crew mingled, sharing memories from months of hard work.

Colette found herself standing by a balcony overlooking the city lights, a glass of champagne in hand. Harry joined her soon after.

"It's going to be odd not seeing everyone tomorrow," he said, leaning against the railing beside her.

"Yeah," Colette agreed softly. "It's like saying goodbye to family."

They sipped their drinks in companionable silence for a moment before Harry spoke up again.

"What’s next for you?" he asked curiously.

Colette shrugged slightly. "A few scripts to read; maybe some time off. And you?"

"Same," Harry replied. "Though it'll be hard to top this experience."

They smiled at each other, sharing an unspoken acknowledgement of the journey they had shared. The night grew deeper around them as words gave way to shared glances and laughter from inside reached their ears—a soundtrack to endings and new beginnings alike.

“Why don’t we get out of here, go to my place for a while.” Harry said while looking over at Colette.

Colette glanced up at the stars twinkling above, considering his invitation. A gentle breeze ruffled her hair, bringing with it the distant sounds of celebration from inside. It felt like the perfect end to an intense and transformative day.

"Sounds like a plan," she replied with a smile that matched the lightness in her heart.

They excused themselves from the party, slipping away unnoticed among the throngs of well-wishers and fellow revelers. The city's streets were quiet as they walked side by side, their footsteps syncing in a comfortable rhythm.

Arriving at Harry's place, he unlocked the door and let them into his warmly lit apartment. Colette really examined the place. The space was tastefully decorated with various mementos from his travels and projects, each piece telling a story of its own. Colette wandered over to a shelf displaying several old cameras and script binders.

"This place has character," she commented, picking up a vintage camera and examining it closely.

"Thanks," Harry said as he went to fix them some drinks in the kitchen. "It's my little sanctuary away from all the chaos."

Returning with two glasses of wine, he joined her by a large window overlooking the cityscape. They talked for hours about everything—from their fears and dreams to trivial stories from set—each conversation thread drawing them closer, weaving a new layer into their friendship.

As dawn hinted at its arrival with a soft glow on the horizon, Harry poured them each another glass of wine. "To new beginnings?" he proposed, raising his glass slightly.

"To new beginnings," Colette echoed, clinking her glass against his. They sipped their wine in serene silence, watching as the city slowly came to life.

Harry's heart raced as he leaned in closer to Colette, his breath hot against her ear. "I have to do this," he whispered urgently, desperation lacing his words. Colette's eyes widened in surprise, but she nodded, giving him permission to continue. And with that, Harry pressed his lips hungrily against hers, pouring all of his pent-up desire and longing into the passionate kiss. Electricity crackled between them as their bodies molded together, fueling the intensity of their connection. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the taste of each other on their lips and the overwhelming need driving them both.

“I’ve been thinking about this since we filmed that scene.”

Colette's breath hitched at Harry’s admission. "That scene?" she inquired, her voice trembling with a heady cocktail of nerves and anticipation. He traced his thumb across the contour of her lips, nodding before reclaiming them with a renewed intensity that left no room for doubt.

"That damn scene," he murmured against the luscious curve of her mouth, his hot whispers making her shiver in response. His hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer so she could feel every hard inch of him against the softness of her body.

Colette's heart pounded in her chest as Harry's thumb traced the contours of her lips, her eyes fluttering closed at the feeling. His hot whispers sent shivers down her spine, and she couldn't help but arch into him, seeking more contact.

"That scene," he murmured against her skin, his voice thick with desire, "made me want you even more." With that, he claimed her lips once again, his tongue diving deep into her mouth as his hands found their way up underneath her shirt. She moaned into the kiss, feeling his calloused fingertips brush against the underside of her breasts.

His touch sent electric shockwaves through her body, making every nerve ending tingle with anticipation. She whimpered softly against his mouth, clutching at his shoulders as he teased her nipples through her bra. "Harry," she gasped out between ragged breaths, her voice barely a whisper.

He pulled back slightly to look down at her flushed face. "Tell me you want this," he growled lowly, eyes dark and intense as they bore into hers. Colette swallowed hard before nodding frantically. "I do," she whispered back in a voice that shook with need.

Without further hesitation, Harry scooped Colette up into his strong arms and carried her over to the nearby bed. He set her down gently before kneeling down between her spread legs and gazing up at her with a hungry glint in his eyes. "You are so so fucking beautiful," he murmured approvingly as he ran his roughened hands up along the insides of her thighs until they reached their final destination: the lace-covered mound of between them.

Groaning lowly, Harry pressed his fingers against the damp material covering Colette's core and pushed them through the fabric to slide along her wet folds. She cried out softly as sensations she hadn't felt since that fateful day on set washed over her once again—sensations that only seemed to intensify now that they were alone together like this .

Harry's fingers slid deeper into Colette's wet folds, finding her swollen clit and circling it gently. She moaned loudly, arching her back as the sensations overwhelmed her. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, his voice thick with desire.

"Oh god yes," she whimpered, her eyes fluttering closed. "Please, Harry. I need you."

He pulled his fingers away from her core and stood up, pulling her with him. She stumbled to her feet, feeling unsteady from the intense pleasure he'd just given her. He backed her up against the wall, their bodies flush from chest to thighs. His hard cock pressed against her stomach, making her even wetter.

"You are so pretty, love.," he murmured again, his lips brushing against hers in a featherlight kiss. His hands roamed over her body, squeezing her ass cheeks and pulling them apart to reveal her tight little hole. "I want you to feel every inch of me inside you."

Colette shuddered at his words, imagining how good it would feel to be filled up by him. She reached down between them and took hold of his cock through his pants, stroking it slowly as she looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Please," she whispered again.

Harry groaned deeply and grabbed hold of her wrists, lifting them above her head and pinning them against the wall next to her head. His other hand slid down between their bodies once more, pushing aside the fabric of their clothes until he could position his cockhead at her entrance. He looked into her eyes for permission before thrusting forward powerfully into her tight heat.

She cried out in shock and pleasure as he filled her completely in one swift motion. He began to move inside her slowly at first, watching as she adjusted to his size. But soon enough he picked up speed, slamming into her over and over again with a roughness that made Colette's legs shake uncontrollably beneath him."Fuck yes!" she screamed breathlessly as he took control of their coupling completely."

She could feel every inch of him, stretching and filling her while also leaving her wanting more. His grip on her waist tightened as he picked up speed, slamming into her so hard that the bed shook beneath them.

"You like that?" he growled, his voice hoarse with lust.

"God yes!" she moaned back, arching her back to meet each of his thrusts. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she clung to him, unable to resist the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her body. He reached down between them and rubbed circles around her clit with his fingers, sending shudders of delight through her entire being.

"You're so fucking tight," he grunted, leaning down to capture one of her nipples in his mouth and sucking hard. The sensation sent electric shocks straight to her groin, making her even wetter for him. She cried out his name as he hit a particularly sensitive spot inside her, causing an explosive wave of pleasure that left her breathless.

Colette found herself begging for release as he continued to thrust into her unmercifully. "Please... I need you to cum with me!" She could feel herself getting closer and closer to the brink but didn't want it without him by her side. In response, he picked up the pace even more, driving deeper than ever before as they both neared their climaxes together.

Their bodies moved in a frantic rhythm, the sound of their heavy breathing and the soft thuds of flesh meeting flesh filling the room. Colette felt the coil of tension winding tighter and tighter within her, her entire being focused on the overwhelming sensations Harry was eliciting from her.

Just as she thought she could take no more, Harry’s movements became even more purposeful, his strokes deepening, each pushing her further towards that edge. His mouth left her nipple with a wet pop, traveling up her neck, leaving a trail of kisses until he reached her ear. His hot breath against her ear sent another shiver down her spine as he whispered, "Let go for me, love. I’ve got you."

And with those words, Colette felt the dam break. A powerful orgasm washed over her, waves of pleasure pulsating through her as she cried out his name, her body trembling uncontrollably. Harry followed soon after, his own climax overtaking him with a groan as he buried his face in her neck, his body shuddering against hers.

As they both regained their breath, Harry slowly pulled back to look at Colette, his eyes soft now with a tender glow. Gently, he pressed a kiss to her forehead before easing out of her and helping her lay down on the bed. He lay beside her, pulling her into his arms and wrapping her up in his warmth.

They lay there in silence for a moment, neither needing words to express what had just transpired between them. Finally, Colette turned to look at him, a shy smile playing on her lips. “That was…” she started but seemed lost for words.

“Everything,” Harry finished for her, smiling back. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear gently. “You were everything, my Juliet.”

Colette snuggled closer into his embrace, feeling an unfamiliar sense of peace wash over her. What had started as an undeniable attraction had blossomed into something far deeper in these moments alone together. They both knew that what was happening between them wasn’t just fleeting passion; it was something that might just redefine their understanding of connection and desire.

As the night deepened, outside the confines of their intimate world, the city's sounds blended into a distant hum, almost like a lullaby meant to soothe them in their post-climactic serenity. Harry lay there, feeling the gentle rise and fall of Colette's breathing against him, his thoughts meandering through the events that had led to this moment.

After what felt like an eternity bathed in silence and warmth, Colette stirred slightly, breaking the magical spell that had enveloped them. She lifted her head to meet his gaze, her eyes reflecting a mix of wonder and a hint of vulnerability. "Harry," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the quietude. "What does this mean for us? For tomorrow?"

Harry’s heart tightened at her words. Tomorrow. With their lives so deeply entrenched in public scrutiny and their careers always on the line, the weight of reality began to dawn on him. Yet looking into Colette's hopeful eyes, all he wanted was to delay those worries, to live in this bubble for as long as they could.

He brushed his lips against her forehead softly, choosing his words with care. "Let's not think about tomorrow yet," he murmured softly. "Tonight, it’s just you and me. No labels, no expectations. Just... us."

Colette nodded slowly, nestling back into his chest. "Just us," she echoed, allowing herself to be enveloped by the warmth of his promise.

They stayed like that for a while longer until sleep began to claim them, their bodies entwined in a quiet promise of the now with thoughts of tomorrow held at bay.

116 notes · View notes

thedevilinmybrain · 5 months

Text

Harry knows Louis has his reasons. He's heard all of them, listed out like one blow after another. The focus should be on the band, on the music, too much at stake. They can't be selfish, need to think about the rest of the boys, the fans. So many things weighing on them, should know better than to push back against management. Louis is the oldest so he needs to make the right choices, be a role model, be mature enough to know when enough is enough.

Louis talks and Harry can hear Simon's voice.

Standing against the wall, Harry presses the rim of the glass against his lips, can smell the vodka inside. It's expensive, served straight because Harry can't afford the calories, no sugar after seven. It's all part of the image, the routine to make Harry hotter, more attractive with a sharp jawline and thin waist. His hair is getting longer now, brushes against his jaw, a real Mick Jagger in his tight jeans and drawling accent, charming whomever he feels like. It doesn't mean shit when he's watching Louis wrap his arm around the shoulders of some up and coming.

He's pretty, Harry guesses, as far as aesthetics go. Big eyes and smooth skin, an upturned mouth in a smirk that makes him look a little impish. Louis is being bold tonight, no one that important around to side eye him, to shove a pretty blond in a mini dress into his lap. So, Louis is free to laugh into the guy's neck, face flushed red and drunk. His free hand has been on the guy's thigh for over an hour, holding him close, holding him down, with a ring on his finger that belongs on Harry's. Louis had said they had to break up because too many people were watching them, that it was a liability, that it just wasn't possible. But someone with a name the tabloids don't care about is safe, Harry guesses.

Jealousy is a fucking collar around his throat, chokes the air out of his lungs, drags him down like an anchor into the darkness, drowning him. Louis used to do that to him, to press their cheeks together, to keep Harry close and safe against his side. Always had to have his hands on Harry somehow, around his wrist, on his waist. But that was before Louis decided to start eating out of the hand that feeds them.

This morning, leaving the studio, Louis had held the door open for Harry and smiled at him, all big and bright and cooing at him. Come on, baby. Hurry up. Like it wasn't a punch to the gut when Louis is the one who told Harry he had to stop calling him that. When Louis is the one who set up the rules, who laid down the way it was going to be. And Harry has been trying to be so good, kept himself away, doesn't try to press or talk to him. Even when it feels like Harry's sawing off a limb every time Louis is in the room.

"Feels fucking rude," Niall mutters, digs his fingers into his own cup, tugging out a cherry. "Over there flaunting it."

"Niall," Harry sighs, takes another sip of his own drink. Across the room, Louis takes the pipe from Zayn, holds it up to show his newest friend.

"Well? It fucking is. I know you all broke up and shit, but honestly? To do it here?" Waving his hand at the center of the room, Niall's top lip curls. "Fucked, mate. Really fucked."

Niall is right. They're in one of the public houses that the label owns, all blase designs and inconsequential art on the walls. But it's still in front of their friends, some of the crew, all the lads. Harry can't remember ever feeling so on the outskirts of the people he considers family, so fucking lonely in his own skin.

"You're Harry fucking Styles," Niall hisses, venomous and angry. He's felt like this since he heard the news, had been the one to pull Harry out of that bathtub, soaked through his clothes, wine drunk and sobbing. Louis doesn't know any of it, but Niall does.

"It was almost Tomlinson." Harry mutters, takes the rest of his drink in one shot, rolls off the wall to stalk towards the stairs. He hasn't worked up the ability to charge across the room yet, to stand his ground, to call Louis out on his shit. No, not yet. So, Harry prefers to have his meltdown behind closed doors, to cry his eyes sore and try to rub the tattoos off his skin.

#larry #drabble #just something i have been thinking about writing #canon era jealous harry #maybe too inspired by lyrics

136 notes · View notes

harryssweatcreaturee · 2 years

Note

could u write a blurb about one of the new songs????

cinema maybe 🫣

a/n: this is unedited and not proof read and im sorry if its not amazing bc im in class rn but still whipped this up 🤲🏻

masterlist

warnings: sexual content

Keeping composure was never hard for Harry.

Not until tonight.

There was something about her that he couldn’t quite get out of his head. He didn’t even know her name. But those eyes. Those eyes screaming devour me from across the room with no consideration of the people around them, of the loud music booming inside those four walls, of the fact that they didn’t know each other.

Since the moment the group of those women walked in, she took his breath away. That dress accentuated her body so well. Her hair was perfectly slicked back into a ponytail that Harry couldn’t help but want to pull as she showed him how good her mouth can be. Forgive him for being so crude but he couldn’t get the thought of her on her knees out of his mind. Sue him.

Harry had a few drinks in his system. He was deciding that he had enough liquor courage to go over and spit it out. He had a feeling, a very strong gut feeling that his thoughts we’re being ran inside her pretty little head too. There was no way he was going home alone tonight, and if he was, at least he tried.

After downing another green tea shot, Harry aimlessly threw both his arms around his friend’s shoulder automatically making them huddle with their eyes on the curly haired man as if he were about to propose a toast, “Y’can all go home without me. I think m’getting lucky tonight.”

The loud music was no distraction to the coital thoughts running in his brain, not understanding what was consuming him so much about this woman who he hadn’t heard a single word slip out of those pretty, red lips.

Her eyes didn’t leave Harry, watching as he so confidently walked through the crowd of sweaty, inebriated people. She had a smirk on her tainted lips. Harry mirrored it, finally close enough to smell her strong perfume and breathe the same air as she.

Harry leaned against the table beside her, softly grabbing her elbow to pull her in and speak directly into her ear. “There’s a man in here, Harry I believe, looking for the girl with the pretty red lips wondering if he can take her home tonight.”

She giggled. God, that laugh.

She flattened her hand on Harry’s chest, tiptoeing in her heels that didn’t help much in comparison to Harry’s height, her other hand reaching for his chin to tip his head down.

“You can tell Harry that she’s ready to go.”

Harry smirked as his eyes momentarily rolled back. Her voice had to be the most beautiful tune Harry had ever heard. It had him in a tight chokehold and all he could wonder was how good she’d sound moaning his name. He immediately dug into his pocket for his phone, ordering an uber for the pair to go back to his house for the beginning of their night together.

There was plenty of ubers around there area meaning his uber had arrived no longer than a minute after he ordered it. His hand came up to the small of her back, guiding her through the pool of intoxicated people, and out the front door, searching for the red sedan that was about to confine them for 7 minutes into the ride of what he had no idea would be the best night of his life.

“After you,” Harry held the door open, as the woman climbed into the car, then joining beside her with a small huff. He turned his head to face her, finally looking at her up close and personal.

“I’m trying really hard to not pull you in and kiss you right now.” He confessed barely above a whisper, eyes glancing between her own and those lips that kept calling out his name.

She smirked, licking her lips and leaning in close enough to faintly feel them on his, tips of noses touching and breathing each other’s air. “How unfortunate that you have to wait a few minutes before getting to enjoy me. Gotta love an eager man, hm?”

Her hand creeped onto Harry’s thigh, slowly running closer to the one place he most needed attention. He hadn’t even noticed how hard he was. Not until her hand palmed his clothed cock with that smirk widening on her lips.

“My name’s (Y/N). Wanna make sure I hear you say it when your cock is down my throat.”

Harry had to suppress a whine. A true minx under the skin of what could come off as an innocent woman. But God, no. That was far from true, and Harry was yet to be aware of this.

(Y/N) made sure to keep her voice at a whisper, not wanting to let the driver in on their conversation.

The car ride soon came to an end, and it felt far too long for Harry. He slammed the door shot after they both got out, apologizing to the air for his aggressiveness. One hand held (Y/N)’s as they walked towards his front door, the other fumbling to get the right key into the knob and turning it harshly to finally let them in and be free from their sexual torment.

Harry barely let go of the key before (Y/N) pulled him into a desperate kiss, muffling moans of relief and pathetic whimpers. It was intoxicating. He could taste remnants of mint and melon on her tongue as they both stumbled through the hallway and into Harry’s room. Aimlessly slamming the wall to find the switch.

(Y/N) pulled away, rolling her bottom lip into her mouth and keeping it there with her teeth as her hands slowly and teasingly pulled her dress down, leaving her clad in nothing but a black lace thong. She dropped to her knees, fingers working quick to unbutton Harry’s jeans and swiftly shoving them down along with his briefs.

And those eyes. Those fucking eyes that speak for themselves stared up at him so innocently as her viscous tongue laid flat on the base of Harry’s cock, licking up to the crown of his tip and beginning to slowly take him in by inch. Like a cock sucking professional, she took him in completely as her eyes rolled back and a moan vibrated on the skim of his cock.

“Fuck me.” Harry moaned out while she began to suck on him like her life depended on it, bobbing back and forth. She was so skilled, so perfectly in tune with how good she was and that alone was driving Harry wild. He was struggling to stay standing as he felt like his knees could buckle at any moment. Harry’s hand grabbed her ponytail, wrapping it around his fist for leverage and she obliged. Her mouth fell open, eyes once more gazing into his as if she was asking him to fuck her mouth.

So he did. Every gag elicited a moan from Harry, a pathetic sound letting her know that he felt good – so fucking good.

“Such a perfect fucking mouth, (Y/N). Where have you been all my life?” He huffed, head falling back as his climax approached with a twitch of his cock, painting the back of her throat white with ribbons of his cum. And she didn’t waste a drop, swallowing every bit of his seed like if it were honey.

“Does this mean I can get fucked now? Was I good enough?”

Harry scoffed in disbelief. Could she be any more perfect? Harry pulled her up by the ponytail, (Y/N) wiping her oral commissures with glossy eyes. “Get on the bed.”

While (Y/N) slipped out of her thong and climbed into bed, Harry rolled a condom onto his cock, walking to the edge of the bed where she laid with her legs spread wide open for him.

“Fuckin’ hell. Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. Look at you. So fucking wet for me already.��

Her pussy was glistening with her arousal, dripping down to her tightest hole and the whole sight had Harry struggling to breathe.

Harry aligned the tip of his cock to her drenched hole, gripping her thighs tightly as he thrusted in until he bottomed out and a sleek moan left her mouth.

“I – fuck! Please, Harry. Fuck me. Please. Move.”

(Y/N)’s neediness made Harry smirk, leaning down to kiss her as his hips started thrusting in an even, yet harsh rhythm. Her cunt was so tight around Harry, the slick sounds filling the thick air and into the ears. It was the perfect recipe for a perfect song. Her repeated moans of Harry’s names, the sound of their skin slapping together, her drenched cut swallowing Harry’s cock.

Harry’s mouth breathed in all her muffled moans as her hands flew to his back, her nails digging into his skin and scratching down enough to rip his skin and make it burn. But it felt so good and it stroked his ego. Harry’s hands left her thighs and gripped the sheets beside her torso, fucking into her mercilessly and with one goal.

“Fuck. Y’keep clenching. Come for me, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) whimpered with a soft nod as her hands fell from his back to grip his biceps hard as she finally let go around his cock, immediately milking Harry for all he’s got to spill into the condom with sloppy thrusts.

Harry was spent. He pulled out of her pussy, walking into his ensuite bathroom to slip off the condom and drop it into the bin. He could hear her feet on the floor, padding softly before he was joined by her sitting on the toilet. It felt oddly domestic, making Harry chuckle and leaving her on her own.

Harry woke up the following morning to an empty bed and the corner of a ripped piece of paper on his nightstand with a phone number and (Y/N)’s name. Harry sat up in his bed as he reached for the paper and his phone, quickly going to his messages and typing in her phone number.

‘Thank you for the fun night. Hope we can repeat it soon. H’

Yet despite just one night and only knowing her name, Harry was intrigued. He carried on with his day lazily spent on the couch, repeatedly checking his phone for a message to come in. He felt pathetic to be checking every so often, finally deciding to just throw his phone onto the other end of the couch and reach for it whenever he’d hear that ding.

And it came in.

Harry groaned into the air as he leaned over and snatched his phone, reading her message over and over with a growing smirk on his face.

‘You can expect me there next weekend. x’

Somehow, someway, they ended up texting every day for the whole week and ending their nights with long phone calls where they spoke about each other and whatever they did for that day. Harry knew he was developing a crush on this woman, more excited than ever to see her again and not just for the good sex.

But he had to admit, the sounds of her slick pussy lived in his mind – and he loved to remind her of it.

It was Thursday night, their routine phone calls in play as he wiped his kitchen counter, phone pocketed between his ear and shoulder and a soft moan came through.

“What are you doing?” Harry froze his ministrations, letting out a deep breath before he heard her voice again through the phone.

“Can you guess?” Her voice was soft and laced with lust, another moan following and rushing straight to Harry’s cock.

He dropped the towel on the counter, walking straight into his room as his heart began to race. “If you’re getting yourself wet for me,” Harry groaned as he fell back onto his bed, hand slipping into his sweats and wrapping around his cock,

“I guess you’re all mine.”

taglist: @mouthfulloftoothpasterry @imavirginhoe @camflowervol6 @evanjh @majasophieanna @msolbesg @harrysddtittys @lollypopsx @damnasstyles @awesomebooklover17 @ayeshathestyles @tenaciousperfectionunknown @his-only-angel-1989

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fan fics #harrystylesfanfics #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry styles au #harry styles fics #harry styles smut #smut #harrys house #cinema #harry styles one shots #harry styles mature

1K notes · View notes

narrycherries · 3 months

Text

🌟 new patreon exclusive series! 🌟 check out the patreon if you’re interested in exclusive content & early access!

here is the author’s note to the introduction of this series!

[this series involves the relationship of the reader x Harry as they figure out their intimacy - please note that this is not straight smut right off the bat, this is a build up series that will touch on different struggles, efforts, and events that relate to the reader gaining get sexual confidence and understanding how to form a sexual relationship]

#harry styles #harry #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurbs #harry styles stuff #harry styles fanfiction #one direction #harry smut #domrry #harry styles mature #harrys house #harry styles pictures #harry styles baby #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

7 notes · View notes

justmystyles · 10 months

Note

Hi!!! Just saw your requests are open and I couldn’t help but jump on this bc I love your writing so much!!!

Not sure if you do these but could you write something angsty loosely based off All I Ask by Adele with Harry and reader? Maybe with a happy ending that could be down the line after coming back together after maturing/time apart? :)

thank you so much for this ask! i really hope i gave you what you were looking for! 🖤

All I Ask

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

word count: 3.5k

summary: you're finally starting to get over harry, what happens when fate brings you back together?

warnings: 18+ only NSFW, smut, oral (f & m receiving)

a/n: my first request AND my first smut. let's do this!

*i say it's a plus size reader, while i don't focus a lot on that aspect (because your size should not define you), it will come up, so i just wanted to be upfront about it.

tags: @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @brightlightsinlife @cute-as-ducks420 @gem1712 @golden-hoax @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @n0vaj3an @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

Harry kept his hood up and head down as he walked the late night streets of New York. He didn’t have a destination in mind. If anything, he was trying to get away from his thoughts. Trying to find something to distract him.

New York was where he fell in love with you, and then a few months later where you planned your future together. It had been nearly a year, but he could swear his sheets smelled like you. He had spent countless nights in that bed thinking of the nights you shared together, the feeling of the two of you wrapped up in one another. Your smile, your laugh.

Your laugh. It had become one of his favorite sounds on the planet. He could sell out the biggest arenas, but nothing made him feel better than hearing you laugh, and knowing it was because of him. Sometimes, he could still hear it.

Harry froze in his spot. It sounded too real that time. And then he heard it again. Like the siren sound of a mermaid calling to a sailor, his eyes followed the melodic laughter, and he found you almost immediately.

You were surrounded by a large group, he recognized a couple of your friends, and there were a few people he hadn’t seen before. He was at a loss for what to do, so he just stayed rooted in place. Watching you. And then he saw something that he wished he hadn’t.

A man came out of a nearby bar and approached your group. His arm went around your shoulder, and as if it were second nature, both of your arms snaked around his waist, your head resting on his chest. It was as if his heart was breaking all over again.

You were having a great time, your friends had just finished a hilarious comedy show. You kept telling them it was their best one yet. But the laughs didn’t end there, as with every show, the after party spilled out onto the sidewalk, and into the bar next door. It was the first time you’d been able to actually enjoy New York since things ended between you and Harry. You were finally starting to feel like yourself again.

Then you heard those whispers and hished gasps that you hadn’t heard in ages, and you immediately tensed.

“Y/N, you good?” Lou looked down at you with a concerned glance, but you didn’t hear him. All you could hear were the whispers.

“Oh my gosh, is that Harry Styles?”

“It’s him! Quick get your phone out!”

At that point, your friends had heard the whispers too. They knew about your history with him, they had done everything they could to get you out of your funk post-breakup, they saw what a mess you were. They were all trying to get your attention, asking if you were okay, trying to guide you into the bar for a much needed shot of anything. None of it registered.

You pulled yourself out of Lou’s arms, your eyes darting around the street until they locked on his. You silently walked away from your group, you saw Harry begin to move as well. Once you were in front of each other, you stopped.

“Harry,” you whispered.

“Y/N.”

You closed your eyes, trying to compose yourself. You forgot how beautiful your name sounded coming out of his mouth. When you opened them, you saw him moving closer with his arms outstretched. You immediately stepped into the embrace, as if you were a magnet. You both sighed instantly on contact.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, but when he began to pull away, you knew it wasn’t long enough.

“So… uh, what are you doing here?” Harry asked, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Dan and Jay had a thing,” you nod your head over to your group of friends, who had been watching the entire interaction. “You?”

“Recording, and a couple of meetings.” You nod in understanding. “How was the show?” He asked.

“Good, really funny. How is the–”

“Excuse me,” you were interrupted by two women holding out their phones. “Harry, do you think we could get a picture?”

Harry smiled at you apologetically, and you nodded in response signaling that it was okay. He took the photos, and a small crowd started to surround you.

“I’m going to take off,” you whisper in his ear as he finishes another photo op.

As if out of instinct, his hand reaches out and grabs yours, you gasp quietly as that familiar jolt of electricity shoots through you at his touch.

“Wait,” he pulls you closer. “Do you want to go grab a drink and catch up? I know a place.”

“Sure,” you respond before he can even finish his sentence. You weren’t ready to say goodbye to him again. Not yet. “Let me just go tell my friends.”

Harry nods, and watches as you walk down the street to your friends. You had said yes, but he was afraid that if he let you out of his sight, you would disappear.

When you returned, he took a few more pictures, said goodnight to everyone there, and placed his hand on the small of your back, leading you away. The second his hand was on you, the concerns of your friends replayed in your head.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“We’re just starting to get you back.”

You shook it off. If anything, this would be good, it would be the closure you never got. Things between you and Harry ended while you were on opposite sides of the world, so you never got the chance to really talk things out. Maybe this was that chance.

After walking a few blocks, you arrived at a bar and were seated in a back corner booth. You both ordered drinks immediately, hoping to clear out some of the awkwardness. The conversation started off simple enough, you caught each other up on work, your families, typical topics. Then, feeling emboldened by the alcohol, Harry asked the question he was dreading.

“So your boyfriend didn’t mind you coming out with me?”

“Boyfriend?” You ask, unsure where that was coming from.

“That guy you were hugging when I saw you.”

You’re silent for a moment, trying to remember what was happening right before you saw Harry. “Oh, that was Lou,” you wave your hand dismissively. “He’s an affectionate drunk.” You chuckle through the butterflies. Was he jealous that you may have been with someone else?

He nodded his head in understanding. “So you’re not…”

“I’m single. I’ve been on a couple of dates, but none of them really clicked.” You shrugged. Your mind went back to the last date you went on.

“I had a lot of fun tonight.”

You turn to your left, smiling softly at the man in the drivers seat. “Me too, thank you for dinner.”

“Anytime,” he continued talking, but his words faded away as those familiar notes started ringing through the speakers. You looked at the screen to confirm, when you saw Harry’s name, you immediately reached over and turned off the radio. You looked over to your date, who eyed you curiously. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine,” he chuckled. “Not a Harry Styles fan?”

“I, uh… I went through a phase.” It wasn’t a lie. The phase just happened to be more than making playlists and going to concerts.

“My little sister is obsessed,” he continued. “She was going on and on about how excited she is that he got back with his ex.”

“He… what?” You choked out the words. For about a month after you broke up, you were keeping tabs on gossip and fan blogs, but your family and friends reminded you that doing that would only make moving on harder.

“Yeah, I guess he and Taylor Swift are a thing again? I dunno, they’re probably just trying to get inspiration for their albums or something. Celebrities are all so fucked.”

Your chest tightened at the memory. He wasn’t single.

“Speaking of, I heard you and Taylor are a thing again.”

His brow crinkled, it was the same face he always made when he thought you said something crazy. “We’re not.” He said simply.

“Oh, sorry. I just heard that...”

“You should know better than to believe all that gossip rubbish. I’m single too.”

“Oh,” was all you were able to say.

A silence fell over the two of you as you took in all the information. You were both single, you both got the impression that the other was happy about that. What next?

“Do you have any regrets about us?” Harry broke the silence.

“I… what?”

“Because I do,” he didn’t even let you process his question before continuing. “I regret not getting one more night with you.” Your eyes went wide, but he continued, wanting to get it out before he lost the nerve. “I keep thinking about our last time together, and I think about all the things I would have done differently if I had known that was going to be it.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” you reply, tossing your head back and finishing your drink in one gulp.

“What if we… I mean we could,” he took a deep breath before continuing. “Do you want to go back to my place?”

“Absolutely.” You answer without hesitation.

Harry finished his drink, slamming his glass down on the table. He then pulled out his wallet and dropped some cash to cover the bill. “Let’s go.” He stood, offering you his hand which you took immediately.

The taxi back to Harry’s apartment was silent. You were both weighing out the pros and cons of what you were about to do. Your friends were right, you were just starting to come back around, starting to heal. Would this destroy all of the work you’ve put in?

Truthfully, you didn’t care.

Harry opened the door and held it for you, allowing you to enter first. As you did, you felt his eyes on you causing a chill up your spine. You heard the door latch, and before you knew it, Harry’s hands were on your waist, and his lips were on your neck.

He spun you around so you were facing him and crashed his lips against yours, swallowing your moans. He walked you backwards, pinning you between the wall and his body. While one hand traveled up to tangle in your hair, the other slid down your thigh, lifting it to hook around his waist.

He pressed into you further and you could feel his hard cock pressing against your core. “Do you feel that, Y/N? You feel what you do to me?”

“Yes,” you gasp against his lips as you lift your hips, desperate for more friction.

“Mmm… so eager. Did you miss my cock? Miss how well I fill your sweet pussy?” He latched onto your neck with a series of biting kisses that would most definitely leave marks.

“God yes.”

Harry growled at your response, lifting your other leg so they were now both wrapped around him and began walking toward the bedroom. As he moved, you could feel his cock rubbing against you, you tightened your legs trying to get as close to him as possible.

Once you were in the bedroom, he threw you down on the bed, immediately crawling on top of you. His hands traveled up your body, grabbing the hem of your shirt as he did and lifting it over your head. He pressed his lips to yours in a dizzying kiss, he quickly moved down your body, kissing across your collarbone and down your chest as he reached behind you and unclasped your bra.

He pulled back for a moment, admiring your topless form. His hands cupped your breasts, squeezing gently before he came back down, taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Your back arched as you gasped in pleasure. He kissed across your chest, paying the same attention to your other breast. Your hand came up, cradling the back of his head as your fingers ran through his curls.

His hands slid down your body, pausing to unbutton your pants before pulling them down with your panties. As soon as your pants were on the floor, his lips began traveling the same path his hands just had until he was settled between your legs.

“I swear, you’re even more beautiful than I remember.” His husky tone went straight through you.

He gave you a wolfish grin before lowering his head, running his tongue slowly through your folds, moaning at his first taste of you. “Still so sweet.” He commented before he refocused, circling your clit with his tongue.

“Oh god,” you moan as your hands fall to his head gripping onto his hair trying to move him exactly where you need him most.

Harry pulls his mouth away, littering your inner thighs with kisses as he slides his hand up and slowly starts inserting a finger. “Fuck, you’re so tight darling.”

You look down at Harry bashfully. “There hasn’t been… I haven’t…”

Harry growled at your response. “Good girl,” he praised, causing a small whimper to escape you. “Have you touched yourself?”

“Mmhmm,” you were so lost in the feeling of his fingers pumping in and out of you that you were unable to form words.

He arched a brow at your response. “And were you able to make yourself feel as good as I did?” You shake your head in response, still unable to speak. “Use your words, sweetheart. I want to hear you.” He crooked his fingers just right, hitting that spot deep in side of you.

“No!” You scream.

“That’s right,” he responded. “Because nobody will ever make you feel as good as I can.” To prove his point, he lowered his mouth once again and started working his tongue in time with his hand.

“Oh fuck, Harry please.” You pleaded for your release.

“That’s it Y/N, give me everything.”

At his words, your back arched off the bed and Harry’s name fell off your lips like a mantra. He worked you through your climax, holding your thighs open as he lapped up every last drop of you.

As you were coming down from your high, he began kissing back up your body. When he got to your face he kissed you deeply, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue.

He stood from the bed, pulling his shirt over his head. You watched with rapt attention, your eyes traveling every inch of his torso. You shifted, crawling to the end of the bed where he stood. When you got to him, you reached out, pulling his sweatpants to the ground, allowing his hard length to spring free.

You wrapped your hand around his base, his hips instantly bucking into your touch. You pumped your hand twice before leaning down and swirling your tongue around the tip. As you opened your mouth and began taking him inch by inch, his hand gathered your hair and rested on the base of your neck, helping to guide you down further.

“Mmm, just like that. Such a perfect little mouth.” Harry kept his eyes locked on you, memorizing every possible moment.

When you gagged on his length, he instinctively thrust his hips. He was close, you could tell. You felt him tug on your hair. Picking up on his signal, you slowly remove him from your mouth and sit back on the bed, giving Harry a questioning look.

“I need to be inside you.” He grabbed your face, pulling you into another kiss. “Do I need a…”

“I’m still covered.” You answer, confirming that you’re stll on birth control.

“Such a good girl. Lay back for me, beautiful.” He commanded in a tender tone.

You complied, and Harry was immediately on top of you, the head of his cock positioned at your entrance. “Are you ready for me?”

“Yes Harry, please.” You begged.

He entered you slowly, desperate to feel every inch of you. Once he was buried to the hilt, he paused allowing you a moment to adjust. When Harry felt you shift underneath him, he knew you were ready and pulled out to the tip before plunging back in quickly causing you to gasp.

He continued to move at a torturous pace, his hands moving all over your body, as if he were trying to memorize every curve. His mouth traveled your neck and chest, marking you as his, even if it was only for tonight.

“I’m close angel, I need you to come again for me, can you do that?”

“Yes Harry, please yes.” you were desperate for another release.

His hand dropped between your legs, circling your clit in time with his thrusts. The sounds of your shared moans and skin against skin filling the room.

“Harry, yes… fuck… oh!” You screamed as you covered his cock, your breathing rapid.

His thrusts sped up, becoming more erratic as he chased his own release. “Fuck!” He groaned, dropping his head to the crook of your neck as he filled you.

You stayed like that for a moment as you both recovered. Before long, Harry dropped to your side. He instinctively lifted his arm to pull you close but stopped himself, remembering the situation you two were in.

The room was silent as the two of you laid there, minds racing over what just happened, and what it meant.

And how much it would hurt to say goodbye.

The reality of the decision hit you, and you began to panic internally. You had to get out of there before you completely lost it.

“I… uh, I should probably take off.” You clutch the sheet to your chest, suddenly feeling more self-conscious than you ever had around Harry, as you begin to sit up.

“Oh,” he was surprised by your abrupt decision. “Are you sure? It’s late, you could stay if you…”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Harry.”

“No, of course not. I’m sorry.” He threw his legs over the side of the bed and slid his sweatpants back on. “Let me walk you out?”

You nod as you pull your shirt on. You confirm that you have everything and make your way out of the bedroom, Harry following behind.

You got to the door and let out a sigh before turning around to face Harry. “It was really good to see you.”

“You too,” he responded, his eyes never leaving yours.

You stood there in silence for a moment, neither able to believe that this was really it. This was the final goodbye. “Take care of yourself, Harry.”

“You too, Y/N.” He pulled you into a hug, holding you so tight that it felt like he was never going to let go. You didn’t want him to let go.

Unfortunately, he did, and it was time to go. Time to finally close this chapter of your life. With a sad smile and a wave, you stepped out the door, and out of Harry’s life forever.

The next morning, you were in your hotel packing the last of your things when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were bloodshot and puffy thanks to the combination of the uncontrollable sobbing and inability to sleep. The second you heard Harry flip the lock on his door, your tears fell, and they hadn’t stopped. You grabbed your sunglasses off the desk and slid them on before grabbing your bags and exiting the room.

When the elevator doors opened, you trudged into the hotel lobby. You were tired and hurting, you were so focused on holding back your tears that you didn’t hear your name being called. When you felt a hand on your shoulder, you jumped and snapped your head around, your breath catching in your throat when you saw him.

“Harry?”

“I have more regrets.” He lowered his sunglasses, and his eyes looked just as bad as yours did. “I regret not fighting harder for us, I regret not making you feel special and important. I regret letting you walk out the door last night without telling you that I still love you. I never stopped.”

You removed your sunglasses, your way of showing him that you had been struggling just as much. You were trying to come up with something to say, you had to say something.

“I…”

Nothing came out, so you did the only thing you could think of, you dropped your bags and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a kiss that you hoped said everything you were unable to. When you felt his arms wrap around your waist and pull you flush to him, you knew you had succeeded.

You finally broke apart to catch your breath, your foreheads pressed together, your eyes searching his.

“Do you have to go back today?” He asked through a whisper.

“I could probably stay another day or two.”

“Good,” he kissed you again before taking your hand and leading you out of the hotel.

He took you back to his place, you had a lot to talk through, a lot to figure out. But for the first time in a long time, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, like you were whole again.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles headcanon #harry styles angst #harry's house #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry edward styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #love on tour #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic

177 notes · View notes