#harryfic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

unabashegirl · 4 months

Text

Meeting her || H.S

Author's note: The following piece is based on The Golden Boy one short from earlier in the year. This story will be how Harry and Y/N met. This took place before the World Cup . This is going to be a three-part story! This is part one. I hope you enjoy! The next part will have smut. Let me know what you think

PS: these IA pictures are getting out of hand.

masterlist

word count: 5.1K

As the autumn leaves danced in the crisp Manchester breeze, Y/N found herself lost in the beauty of this new city. Having recently moved here, her life felt like a blank canvas waiting to be painted with new experiences and adventures. One such adventure awaited her on a chilly evening, as her friend Emma invited her to dinner with her new boyfriend, Harry.

They first met in college during their second year. Y/N got invited to her first party but didn't know anyone. Everything turned around when Emma bumped into her in the kitchen. As the years went by, their friendship got stronger. But when Y/N switched her major to art, things took a turn. Emma didn't like the decision and started keeping her distance.

Y/N came back to Manchester after spending nearly a year in Italy. During her time there, she learned a new way to paint and work with ceramics. Even though her family was closer, she felt a bit out of place, like a foreigner, in her own native country.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Y/N's phone buzzed with a message notification and a follow request on Instagram from Emma. Curiosity piqued; Y/N opened the app to find a warm greeting from her old friend. Emma had just learned that Y/N was back in town and was eager to reconnect and catch up on all the happenings since their last meeting. Ever since, they've been regularly meeting up for lunch dates, dinners, and various events.

Emma had been excitedly telling Y/N about Harry for weeks, and tonight was the night she was going to meet him. She kept going on about how he was a professional football player, having just joined Manchester United, and how his salary was sky-high, potentially making him extremely wealthy. Emma was evidently proud of this and made sure to let Y/N know, almost bragging about it.

They met at a cozy, dimly lit restaurant, where the aroma of delicious food filled the air. Emma was beaming with excitement, introducing Y/N to Harry as he greeted them with a warm smile. He was handsome, with kind eyes that seemed to reflect his genuine personality.

"Y/N, this is Harry," Emma said enthusiastically.

"Nice to meet you, Harry," Y/N replied with a friendly smile, extending her hand for a handshake.

"The pleasure's mine," he responded politely. "I've heard that you're an artist."

Y/N nodded shyly, "Yeah, mostly into paintings and ceramics."

“Anything that we might have seen?”

"Nothing. She's just a beginner, honey," Emma interrupted before Y/N could respond. "She just returned from Italy from picking up a new skill, hoping it might help her sell and turn a profit. You know how it is in the art world – always searching for that breakthrough.”

Y/N felt a momentary offense, a twinge of embarrassment sweeping over her. Not everything Emma had said was entirely accurate. While it was true that everyone aspired to a breakthrough, Y/N had already experienced one, prompting her journey to Italy. Having been invited there, she returned to Manchester with a renewed focus on opening her first gallery. Whispers of her name began circulating in the corners of the art world.

"Fortunately, Harry has already had his breakthrough," Emma added before taking a sip of her martini.

Emma's chatter mostly revolved around Harry's career, the glamorous lifestyle associated with professional football, and the immense potential for wealth. While Harry remained modest and humble about his achievements, Y/N could sense a hint of discomfort in his eyes.

Y/N was someone who valued depth in conversation, she yearned for more than just the superficial. Emma's constant emphasis on Harry's financial prospects was getting on her nerves, but she held her tongue, not wanting to jeopardize her friendship. It was rare for her to have friends, and she didn't want to ruin this budding friendship.

Throughout the evening, she observed Harry, realizing that he was a genuinely kind and down-to-earth person. He seemed uncomfortable with the focus on his financial success, preferring to discuss other aspects of life. Their conversation flowed naturally when they discussed their interests, hobbies, and favorite books.

As the night progressed, Y/N found herself connecting with Harry on a deeper level, appreciating his humility and kindness. Despite the initial annoyance caused by Emma's bragging, she discovered a potential friend in Harry—one who valued genuine connections over monetary gains.

"So, how was Italy? Is it everything that people say?" Harry inquired, his curiosity evident. Having not yet ventured outside the country, most of his experiences were rooted in local settings, particularly in the realm of his games. Eager to hear about Y/N's international adventure, he leaned in, genuinely interested in the tales she might share about the enchanting country he had yet to explore himself.

Y/N smiled, taking a sip of her drink before launching into her narrative. “It is everything and more. The art, the history, the landscapes – it's like a dream. I ended up indulging in the most amazing pasta dishes. And the art is in every corner.”

Harry's eyes widened with interest, "Really? What kind of art did you see?"

Y/N's enthusiasm bubbled as she shared, "Everything from Renaissance masterpieces to contemporary street art”.

As the evening came to a close, she felt a sense of contentment. She had made a new friend in Harry, someone who shared her appreciation for genuine conversations and meaningful connections. Little did she know, this chance encounter would mark the beginning of a beautiful friendship that would enrich her life in more ways than she could have imagined.

Throughout the week, Emma continued to invite her to various events, eager to integrate her into her social circle. One evening, she invited Y/N to attend a football game where Harry would be playing. Y/N was genuinely excited about the prospect of watching a live game and supporting Harry, but Emma's comment about dressing up and putting on makeup stung.

"You should definitely come to the game! It's going to be so much fun. Dress up a bit and maybe put on some makeup—you never know, you might catch someone of Harry's caliber," she said with a wink, attempting to make it sound like a lighthearted joke.

Y/N forced a smile, masking the hurt she felt. It was clear Emma was implying that Harry was out of her league or that she needed to "improve" her appearance to even be in the same league as her or him. She wasn't confrontational by nature, so she simply replied, "Thanks for the invite, Emma. I'll see if I can make it."

As the day of the game approached, Y/N debated whether to attend. The comment had left a lingering discomfort, making her question if she should subject herself to such superficial judgments. But her curiosity to watch the game and support Harry won in the end.

On the day of the game, she wore a casual yet presentable outfit, wanting to feel comfortable and confident in her own skin. She met Emma at the stadium, where she greeted her with excitement.

“I'm so glad you made it! This is going to be amazing," she exclaimed.

“Yeah, I'm looking forward to it," Y/N replied, attempting to infuse her response with enthusiasm, though beneath the surface, nerves churned. Anticipation mingled with apprehension as she contemplated the upcoming interaction. Y/N couldn't shake the memory of previous encounters, where backhanded comments and thinly veiled compliments had become a common thread.

As they took their seats, the atmosphere in the stadium was electric. The crowd's energy was infectious, and she found herself caught up in the excitement of the game. Watching Harry play was impressive—his skill and passion for the sport were evident.

Amidst the cheers and celebrations, Emma leaned over and said, "Isn't he amazing on the field? Imagine being with someone like him."

Her words struck a chord, reminding Y/N of the shallow perspective she seemed to have about relationships. She chose to focus on the game and cheer for Harry, pushing aside the hurt she felt. Deep down, she knew she deserved genuine connections and friendships that weren't based on appearance or someone's profession.

As the game ended and they made their way out of the stadium, she appreciated the experience and the opportunity to support Harry. However, she also realized the importance of surrounding herself with people who valued her for who she was, rather than making her feel inadequate or lesser than because of societal standards or external perceptions.

She continued to focus on her art, pouring her heart and soul into the canvas as she prepared for her upcoming art show. Emma's persistent invitations and comments had left a mark, and she found solace in the therapeutic strokes of her paintbrush. To protect her mental health and maintain her sense of self-worth, she began gently declining Emma's invitations and started distancing herself from her.

One afternoon, while heading to the art supply store, she unexpectedly crossed paths with none other than Harry. Her hair was up in a messy bun, glasses perched on her nose, and she was wearing baggy clothes slightly adorned with paint stains. She greeted him with a warm smile, surprised yet pleased to see him.

"Harry! Fancy running into you here," she said, a genuine smile lighting up her face.

"Hey! How have you been?" he responded, his friendly demeanor putting her at ease. Sporting athletic attire, he appeared in the midst of post-run casualness, on his way back to his apartment.

"I've been busy with work, preparing for an art show. It's been quite hectic," she explained.

"That sounds amazing! An art show? I'd love to see your work," Harry exclaimed, genuinely interested.

"Sure! You and Emma are more than welcome to come. It's on Saturday evening," she extended the invitation, acknowledging his enthusiasm. Including Emma felt like the courteous thing to do, although she harbored no intention of having her presence at the event.

"Where are you off to?" Harry inquired, his eyes drawn to her appearance and the sizable tote bag slung over her shoulder. He found the sight rather adorable. Harry admired her confidence and the unique way she expressed herself. While he hadn't seen her art yet, he was convinced that if it reflected even a fraction of her personality, it would undoubtedly be incredible.

Curiosity sparked in his eyes as he awaited her response, eager to understand the purpose behind the tote bag and the destination that had captured her attention on this particular day. The genuine interest he took in her pursuits was evident, a testament to the budding connection between them.

"I'm headed to the supply store. Ran out of a few things in the middle of a painting session," she explained, a hint of frustration in her voice. Having to cut her creative session short was always a predicament, leaving her feeling somewhat scattered. "That's why I look like such a mess," Y/N felt compelled to clarify, a touch of self-consciousness in her admission.

"Mind if I tag along?" Harry inquired, his reluctance to head to his apartment evident. The idea of being alone didn't appeal to him, and his living space still carried the lingering feeling of belonging to someone else.

"No problem. I just hope it won't be too boring for you," she said, a sudden nervousness creeping in. It felt akin to introducing a boyfriend to her parents, as he was about to witness a small yet intimate aspect of her life—her painting ritual. Despite the nerves, a giddy excitement bubbled within her. Rarely had someone shown enough interest in her work to accompany her in such moments.

As they strolled, they exchanged stories about their lives—his experiences with football, her passion for art, and the challenges and joys they both faced. Harry shared the excitement and pressure of being a professional athlete, and she talked about the joys and struggles of being an artist.

And Harry asked with genuine concern, "I noticed you've been a bit distant lately. Is everything okay?"

She hesitated for a moment, debating whether to share her feelings. But seeing his kind and understanding demeanor, she decided to be honest. "To be honest, Emma's comments have been bothering me. It felt like she was implying that I'm not good enough” Y/N shook her head, attempting to banish the same thoughts that had haunted her for years. "Or maybe I just misinterpreted her words," she mused, a flicker of uncertainty lingering in her mind.

Harry's eyes softened, understanding the weight of her words. "I'm so sorry you felt that way. Emma can be a bit... oblivious at times.”

His words warmed her heart, reassuring her that true friendships were built on understanding and mutual respect.

"We're here," Y/N announced, swinging open the door of a small but charming store. "Hi, George!" she greeted, waving enthusiastically to the elderly man stationed behind the counter at the back.

"Ms. Y/L/N! Good to see you! How's that collection coming along?" George, a familiar face and one of her most significant suppliers, recognized her immediately. He had even gone the extra mile to order specific brushes and paints for her, a testament to his belief in her talent.

"Oh, it's going!" Y/N chuckled, making her way to the paint aisle. "This is my friend Harry, George." Harry beamed, waving like an excited child being introduced to a stranger.

"Mr. Styles! Number nine in Manchester, right?" George exclaimed, recognizing him. "Great season you're having! It's good to have you."

"Thank you," Harry responded shyly, still adjusting to being recognized and receiving compliments from strangers.

"You're not going to swap me for Harry, are you, George?" Y/N teased as she bent down to reach for spatulas and sponges on the bottom shelf.

"Never. Still my favorite," George assured, prompting chuckles from both Harry and Y/N as they continued their joint venture, collecting items from Y/N's list and heading towards the checkout.

As Y/N gathered her art supplies, Harry couldn't help but admire the quaint charm of the store. It was filled with the rich scent of pigments and the subtle aroma of wooden easels. The artistic ambiance enveloped them as George continued to chat with Harry, discussing his recent successes in Manchester.

As they bid farewell to George, the doorbell chimed, marking the end of their visit. Stepping back into the bustling street, Y/N couldn't help but feel grateful for the support she received, not only from her favorite art supplier but also from Harry, who had ventured into her world with genuine interest and a bright smile.

"That was wonderful. Thank you for taking me," Harry commented warmly, carrying Y/N's tote bag through the lively streets. The cityscape buzzed around them, a backdrop to the shared experience they had just enjoyed.

Y/N smiled in response, her eyes reflecting gratitude. "Thank you for coming. It means a lot," she admitted, a subtle vulnerability in her tone. "No one has ever accompanied me to these sorts of things."

Harry's smile broadened, understanding the significance of those words. The weight of being the first to share in a part of Y/N's world tugged at his heartstrings. As they walked side by side, the city lights flickering overhead, an unspoken connection blossomed between them.

They found themselves enveloped in a comfortable silence, the echoes of their shared laughter still resonating in the air. The streets, alive with the rhythm of urban life, seemed to dance to an unspoken melody that mirrored the newfound understanding between Harry and Y/N.

Harry accompanied her all the way to her apartment, insisting on ensuring her safe arrival.

"I'll see you at the art show," Y/N said, her voice carrying a mixture of anticipation and gratitude. She gave him a quick but warm hug before disappearing into the foyer of the building. The promise of their reunion at the upcoming art show lingered in the air, a shared moment they both looked forward to. As Y/N disappeared from view, Harry couldn't shake the feeling of contentment. The day had been filled with meaningful conversations, different from his usual exchanges with his girlfriend.

On the night of the art show, the venue was buzzing with people who had gathered to appreciate and celebrate art. The atmosphere was vibrant, filled with an array of colors, emotions, and creativity. She was both excited and nervous, eager to share her work with others.

Not only were her paintings displayed on the wall, but her ceramics pieces adorned the space as well.

As the evening progressed, Y/N noticed Harry and Emma arriving, accompanied by a couple of Harry's friends. She greeted them warmly, hoping for a pleasant evening. However, it didn't take long for the mood to sour.

Emma's disapproving looks and hostile demeanor became evident as she roamed around the exhibition. Her discomfort seemed to intensify with each piece she viewed, as if she couldn't bear to see Y/N in the spotlight.

"What am I even looking at?" Emma whispered to Harry as they stood amidst a sizable crowd gathered around one of Y/N's largest paintings. "And why is everyone gawking? It's not a big deal; everyone can do it." Harry stayed silent; his attention fully absorbed by the intricate details of the artwork.

"Stop it," Harry gently pulled her hand, attempting to hush her down. "You're being rude." However, he couldn't deny that Y/N's creation was something truly unique. The canvas held an amalgamation of colors and emotions that seemed to dance and intertwine, capturing the essence of her artistic vision.

As the crowd marveled at the masterpiece, Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of pride for Y/N. Her work, a reflection of her passion and creativity, had garnered the attention and admiration of those present. He admired the way she fearlessly poured herself into her art, creating something that not only spoke to him but resonated with a broader audience.

Despite Emma's dismissive comments, Harry recognized the significance of Y/N's talent. He hoped that, with time, Emma might come to appreciate the artistry that captured the attention and imagination of so many.

“Let’s go. Why are we even here?” Emma turned to Harry and his friends, “She is not even that close of a friend. She is just a struggling artist”.

Unbeknownst to Emma, Y/N stood silently behind her, absorbing every single word that had slipped from Emma's lips. The gallery buzzed with the murmur of impressed onlookers, blissfully unaware that the subject of their discussion was right there, an invisible presence in the sea of admirers.

Y/N's heart sank at Emma's dismissive comments, her vulnerability exposed to the unintended audience. The weight of those words settled on her shoulders, adding a layer of discomfort to the pride she felt for her creations. Yet, she chose to linger in the shadows, absorbing the unfiltered opinions that echoed in the gallery space.

“Emma, that’s enough” Harry interjected, his voice carrying a mix of anger and concern.

As Emma turned around, her gaze met Y/N's, and the air grew thick with an unspoken tension. Y/N, having overheard every word of Emma's critique, stood there, a silent witness to the candid commentary. The sudden realization that Y/N had been present all along cast a veil of nervousness over Emma.

Caught off guard, Emma's eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed with a mixture of surprise and embarrassment. The vibrant atmosphere of the gallery seemed to dim momentarily; the weight of the words exchanged lingering in the space between them.

Ignoring him, Emma cleared her throat, her voice sharp and accusatory, "You've been avoiding me, Y/N. I don't appreciate being treated this way, especially after everything I've done for you." Caught in the discomfort of the moment, Emma felt the need to assign blame. Admitting fault was inconceivable, especially in front of Harry and his friends; maintaining a positive image was paramount. Emma couldn't afford to be perceived as a negative force, and so, the instinct to shift responsibility to another party took hold. The desire to preserve her reputation and uphold a facade of positivity outweighed the need for genuine self-reflection.

Y/N tried to maintain her composure, choosing her words carefully. "I've been busy preparing for this show and focusing on my art. I never meant to make you feel ignored."

Emma's face twisted into a bitter expression, and she snapped, "You think you're so special with your art, don't you? No one cares, Y/N. I stopped talking to you in college because of these same reasons. You need to realize that you made a mistake by changing majors. Art is not going to feed you.”

The threat stung, hitting close to home. Y/N took a deep breath, trying to stay calm and collected despite the rising humiliation. "Let's discuss this later, privately."

She was relentless, determined to exert her dominance. "No, we'll discuss it now. Harry, tell her she's out of line."

Harry, torn between loyalty and what was right, looked conflicted. "Emma, maybe now's not the best time—"

Emma cut him off, her voice venomous, "Oh, so now you're siding with her? Fine, have it your way."

She stormed off, leaving Harry visibly troubled and Y/N mortified in front of his friends and other attendees. She wished the ground would swallow her whole, but she reminded herself that she had done nothing wrong.

Harry approached her, his eyes filled with apology. "I'm so sorry. She was completely out of line."

She forced a small smile, trying to brush it off. "It's alright, Harry. Let's not let this ruin the evening."

Deep down, she knew she deserved better than Emma's toxic behavior. As the night unfolded, she chose to focus on the genuine appreciation she received for her art, determined to rise above the negativity and continue pursuing her passion and genuine friendships.

After the tumultuous confrontation with Emma, the art show continued, and she tried her best to immerse herself in the joy of sharing her work with appreciative art lovers. The support and admiration she received from the attendees helped ease the sting of Emma's outburst, allowing her to refocus on the success of the evening.

As the night came to a close, she couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. Several of her pieces had been sold, and the positive feedback had boosted her confidence as an artist. She was both proud and grateful for the experience.

As she started to wrap things up and close the gallery, she noticed Harry waiting outside. His presence was a comforting sight after the rollercoaster of emotions she had endured throughout the evening.

"Hey," she greeted, trying to offer a genuine smile despite the lingering discomfort.

"Hey, congratulations on a successful show," Harry said warmly, genuinely pleased for her.

"Thank you. It means a lot," she replied, feeling a sense of relief knowing that the worst was behind her.

"Look, Y/N, I'm really sorry about Emma's behavior. That was completely uncalled for," Harry apologized again, sincerity in his eyes.

She appreciated his concern and understanding. "Thank you, Harry. I know you tried to intervene, and I appreciate that."

Harry nodded, and then a soft chuckle escaped his lips. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving. How about we grab a bite to eat?"

A pang of hunger reminded her that she had skipped dinner in the whirlwind of the art show. "That sounds perfect. Let's go."

They found a nearby café and sat down, the atmosphere much more relaxed and pleasant than earlier in the evening.

Harry's presence was a balm to her earlier distress, and she was grateful for his kindness and understanding. Despite the events of the night, she felt a genuine connection with him, appreciating the way he had handled the situation and his willingness to stand by her.

As the night came to a close, and she bid Harry farewell, a mix of emotions swirled within her. There was a flutter in her heart, an undeniable attraction that had grown stronger throughout the evening. She had started to like Harry more than just a friend, and it made her nervous.

Y/N knew the reality of the situation. Harry was Emma's boyfriend, and pursuing anything beyond friendship with him would be a betrayal of their relationship. Loyalty and respect were paramount, and she wouldn't compromise those values for her own desires. She couldn't deny the chemistry and connection she felt, but she also understood the importance of boundaries and staying true to her principles. It was a delicate balance between her burgeoning feelings and her commitment to doing what was right.

In the following days, she wrestled with her emotions, trying to put distance between her heart and the potential complications that could arise. She focused on her art, pouring her feelings into her creations, finding solace in the brushstrokes that paint her emotions on the canvas.

That was until one day when she found herself at home, and the intercom unexpectedly rang.

"Ms. Y/L/N, there's a Harry Styles wanting to see you," the voice on the other end announced. Shock rippled through her; it had been a few weeks since she had last seen him. Y/N had purposely kept her distance, fully aware of the feelings that had developed within her.

"Yeah, let him in," she replied, a mix of anticipation and nervousness lingering in her voice. As she unlocked the door, she settled back into her painting, attempting to distract herself from the whirlwind of emotions.

The front door creaked open, and soon, a soft knock echoed through the space. "Y/N?" Harry's rough voice called out, filling the room with a mixture of familiarity and uncertainty.

"In here," Harry heard from the foyer, prompting him to close the front door behind him. He followed the sound of her voice, traversing through the space until he finally located her. There she was, sitting on the wooden floor with legs crossed, her hair fashioned into a bun, and wearing glasses that complemented. her.

Harry cradled a warm brown paper bag, emanating the aromatic allure of Chinese cuisine. He knew of this particular restaurant that served delectable dishes, a tantalizing choice for his unhealthy food cravings. Eager to share this delightful find with Y/N, he approached her with a welcoming smile, lifting the bag in presentation.

"I brought some food," he announced, the tantalizing aroma wafting from the bag.

Curiosity sparked in Y/N's eyes as she inquired, "What is it?"

"Chinese," Harry nervously replied, hoping that his culinary choice would meet her approval.

"Good choice," Y/N commended, setting aside her brush and rising from the floor. It was at that moment that Harry couldn't help but notice her attire – a pair of overalls, worn with an easy casualness. However, the revelation didn't stop there; the absence of anything beneath the overalls exposed the side of her breast, a subtle detail that heightened the air of intimacy in the room. The vulnerability of the moment lingered, as did the tempting aroma of the Chinese delicacies. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah” he cleared his voice, “just hungry” Harry didn’t know if he meant for the meal or fo the sudden urge that he had to feel her breast. He recognized that Y/N had distanced herself, a mirror to the sentiments he harbored toward her. The desire to be close to her lingered within Harry, fueled by a genuine fondness. He admired her, not just for her presence but for the profound connection that blossomed in their conversations.

Harry appreciated the way she listened, her attention genuine and unwavering. In those moments, he felt more than heard; he felt understood on a level that transcended the superficial. Y/N held the key to unraveling his thoughts and emotions, creating a unique bond built on mutual understanding and genuine connection.

"How have you been?" Y/N inquired, taking the lead as she guided Harry towards the living room. The air was charged with a mix of anticipation and a hint of vulnerability. "I saw your match last week. You played really well."

Harry's response held a touch of concern, reflecting the echoes of unanswered messages that lingered between them. "I haven't heard from you since your art show. I thought you were mad at me," he confessed, revealing the worry that had gnawed at him.

"I just thought it would be best to gain some distance between us," Y/N explained, her movements deliberate as she set plates on the coffee table. The unspoken complexities of their connection hung in the air, entwined with a hint of secrecy. "I-I am sure that Emma wouldn't like to know that we are spending this much time together."

As soon as the word 'distance' left her lips, a palpable tension surged through Harry. Panic set in, triggering a rapid response. He hastily placed the bag down, reaching out for Y/N. In a swift motion, he grasped her wrist, pulling her towards him with a sense of urgency.

"Harry," Y/N cautioned, her hand pressed against his chest, attempting to maintain a boundary. Yet, defiance glinted in his eyes as he refused to relent. He freed her wrist, wrapping an arm around her waist while the other found its place behind her head, gently pushing her closer.

"No," he declared, the word hanging in the charged atmosphere. His lips met hers with a hunger that spoke volumes, a fusion of longing and passion. Initially resisting, Y/N succumbed to the intensity of the moment, reciprocating the kiss with an equal fervor. The living room became a stage for a silent exchange, where unspoken emotions and lingering desires found expression in the fervent embrace of their lips.

“Yeah, that’s exactly how I’d imagined it”

QUESTIONS OF CHAPTER (answer below) Do you condone Harry and Y/N’s actions? Do think Emma deserves get cheated on?

143 notes · View notes

henrysteelsmurryme · 2 years

Text

"Our First Time," Bruno Mars * (~7.8k words)

just a random little thing, enjoy xx (also haven't proofread so apologies for any errors)

WARNINGS: smut, I think that's it

: :

“Thank you–oh, it’s a little cold.” She relaxes back on her heels and begins to rub her hands together.

“It’s okay.” Harry giggles. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll get used to it.”

“Are you sure? Just give me a second.”

Harry’s stomach flutters for the umpteenth time tonight at her sweet gesture. His face heats and the warmth travels down his chest and to his groin.

He’s a little overwhelmed with how much he’s…feeling right now. He likes her so much, and he cares about her so much, but he also doesn’t love her just yet. He thinks he could get there, but he also kind of thinks he’s already there, because he’s never felt this way towards anyone before. It has to be love–what he’s feeling–right? What else could it be?

But is it too soon to love her? Harry has no clue; he’s never done any of this before. So, how can he trust his own emotions, when he’s never experienced anything even close to love before?

But watching her sit between his legs, rubbing her palms together to warm the lube for him, just so he isn’t uncomfortable–he can’t imagine anyone else being so accommodating, so thoughtful. It reignites the…the care he has for her, the fondness and adoration.

A small gasp escapes his lips, and he can’t it when his hips buck up into nothing. A pearl of precum dribbles from his slit as he continues to watch her hands.

“Okay,” she says with a sigh of finality. “It’s warmer.” Then, her eyes flit up to sheepishly look into his. “Sorry.” She laughs a little. “Maybe I should’ve listened to you.”

Harry has to swallow a lump in his throat–really? He’s crying before she even gets her hand around his cock?–and he shakes his head, coughing roughy before speaking. “No, it’s–It’s okay.” He offers a tender smile, and hopes that his eyes aren’t shining too brightly underneath the soft yellow hue of the lamp. “I appreciate it. Are you ready?”

She nods, shuffling closer to him on her knees. She swallows thickly when she dips her head and peers down at his hard length. Her eyes are wide and full of apprehension. Harry just hopes it’s because of nerves, because he’s nervous too. He’s really fucking nervous.

“I’m nervous,” she says with a sheepish laugh, as if she had been reading his thoughts, as if their minds are aligned. “I’ve never…I’ve never done anything like this before. Well–“ she rolls her eyes and waves a hand "–obviously, but.” She avoids his eyes, fixating on his chest with tight features and a rigid posture.

She must look so stupid, she thinks. It’s a handjob, not rocket science. It’s probably really easy, and she’s just overthinking it and making a big deal out of nothing.

It’s just–she’s nervous. She’s never held a penis in her hands, or her mouth, or–she’s never even seen one in real life. She’s never wanted to, is the thing. But, tonight, as she was sitting in Harry’s lap and feeling him harden beneath her, she found herself wanting him to take his pants off. She wanted to see his stiff cock, wanted to feel it in her hand. Would his skin feel smooth? Would it feel hot? She doesn’t know.

She doesn’t know the first thing about pleasuring someone else, and she really wants Harry to feel good. She wants to make him feel good, she just doesn’t know how, and that makes her nervous.

What if he doesn’t like it? What if he fakes his moans and lies to her? Penises are hard when people are aroused, and soft when they’re not, right? What if he goes soft in her hand right in the middle of her handjob? That would be just about the most humiliating thing to ever happen to her. She would never be able to look Harry in the eye ever again.

And that would be really sad, because she likes Harry. She really likes Harry, more than she’s ever liked anyone else before–and that kind of scares her. Her emotions, and the strength and intensity of them are scaring her.

She thought she was defective, when her friends would talk about the hottest people in her classes, or how much they wanted to fuck the sexy barista at the coffee shop, and she wouldn’t feel the same. How is someone sexy? How can you look at someone and know you want to have sex with them? She had no clue, she couldn’t relate, until she met Harry.

But not even when she met Harry did she immediately feel this…desire to have sex with him. Sure, he’s attractive: she can appreciate an attractive face. But she didn’t understand her friends’ desperate urges to fuck him.

But now, as she sits between his legs, she wants to fuck him. After months of hanging out and getting food and watching movies and studying together, she suddenly feels this intense desire that her friends are always talking about. It came with absolutely no warning, which stunned her. Had she always wanted to fuck him, and has only just now identified the feeling?

But, then again, the more she thinks about it, the more she doesn’t think it just sprung up on her. It started with her simply looking at his hands, studying the veins underneath his skin and just how big his palms and fingers were. She imagined those hands holding her own, resting on her waist and hips. She imagined his fingers gently brushing her hair away from his face, a tender look in his eyes as they gazed into her own.

Then, since it’s so fucking warm out, Harry’s been wearing these shorts that she’s never seen another man look so fucking good in. They’re thin and lightweight and they melt around his thick thighs. And he accidentally–somehow–shrunk an entire load of his laundry, so his shirts he’d been wearing recently were small and tight around his chest and biceps.

She can pinpoint the exact moment he got her all hot and bothered. She’d never been so flustered before, but at the pool party, watching him prance around in those little yellow shorts…She was hot, and she was really fucking bothered. And ever since then, whenever he would be talking to her, she suddenly realized what her friends were talking about with his ‘intense’ look.

The way he’d just stare into her eyes, and she would notice that every once in a while they’d flicker down to her lips. It never got her so flustered before, but she found herself blushing and stuttering underneath his gaze.

Right now, his stare is still intense, but there’s an underlying tenderness and nervousness to them. He may never have realized the effect he has on others, but his own apprehension is softening his ‘intense’ look.

“You sure you want to do this?”

“Oh, yeah.” She nods determinedly, looking down at his length with growing confidence. “I want to, I really want to. Just–guide me through it.”

Harry nods with her, shuffling in his spot. He bends his legs, then stretches them out on either side of her. Then he bends them again, just not as much as before. He plants his palms on the mattress, pushing himself into a more upright position, then he decides to slouch back down.

His fidgeting is halted abruptly by a gentle tone, “Hey,” and an even gentler hand wrapping around his aching cock.

He sucks in a harsh breath, freezing in his spot. She watches his reaction with wide, amused eyes. She laughs, then asks, “What do you want me to do next?”

“Just–“ he gasps for breath, his hands frantically scrambling up and down the comforter. “Go up and down. And don’t squeeze too tight,” he says in a tight voice. “But not too loose either, you know?” A loose whimper leaves his lips when she experimentally strokes him once.

“Just like this?” she asks softly, repeating her careful motions. She gages his reaction, and she feels her underwear pool when his head falls back, revealing his long, tanned neck. A long moan rises from his throat, and his hips buck up to meet her hand.

“Just like that,” he replies just as softly. “Fuck. But could you just–speed up a little bit?”

She nods her head, biting into the inside of her bottom lip in concentration as she mechanically increases her speed. The lube aids her hand in gliding up and down his cock, and she never knew the wet clicking noises would turn her on so much.

She never knew moans could turn her on so much either, but Harry’s mewls and groans are spurring her on in ways she never thought were possible.

She finds his skin is smooth underneath her fingers, and his cock is hot and it’s throbbing. It’s throbbing and his moans are growing louder. His fidgeting is increasing, and he can’t seem to stop bending and extending his legs and dragging his hands up and down the duvet, fisting and stretching his hands against the sheets.

She asks curiously, “Are you gonna come?”

Harry scrunches his face up, his blushing chest heaving as he shyly nods. A broken hum of confirmation assures her that she’s done just enough to make Harry feel good. Her chest expands with pride, and her hand moves more confidently along his cock.

Despite the promiscuous question, her tone is genuinely curious, highlighting her innocence. “Does this feel good?” She circles her thumb around the head of his length, watching his reaction carefully.

“Oh, my God,” Harry cries out, rolling his hips into her hand. His head frantically twists from side to side. “Fuck, keep doing that, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come.”

The sob that leaves him scares her a bit, and for a moment she wonders if he’s actually crying. She sees a trail of tears down his temples and his face is crumbled in a way she only recognizes as sadness.

But then Harry’s cock twitches in his hand, and she gasps quietly and looks down in time to see streaks of cum bubble from his tip. It dribbles down his cock, seeping between her fingers as she continues to stroke him through his orgasm. Her movements, despite having grown more confident and fluid, move up and down robotically until Harry’s trembling hands pry hers off.

“Sorry.” She laughs a bit, resting her slick hands on her thighs as she watches Harry catch his breath. Then, just to be a pest, she asks cheekily, “Did you enjoy that?”

Harry lets out a choked laugh, and he shakes his head, his exhaustion clear in his languid movements. “Mhm. That was…fuck.” He wipes at his eye with a single finger. “Thank you, I, uh…” Then he blushes. Who the fuck says thank you after a handjob? “Your turn?”

She smiles widely at him and, despite his obvious embarrassment shown through his rosy cheeks and sheepish eyes, he keeps their gazes locked. She nods. “Yeah. My turn.”

They switch positions, with Harry kneeling between her legs as she lays back on the mattress. When he has his fingers tucked under the waistband of her underwear and is about to start tugging them down her legs, she speaks up. She doesn’t necessarily sound embarrassed or insecure, but if she’s bringing it up to warn Harry, then he concludes it’s probably weighing on her mind. “I–uh. I don’t really…shave, just to warn you.” She lets out a little laugh to cover the fact that she is a little apprehensive about his reaction to her hair.

But his smile is easygoing and reassuring. “Okay. Are you ready?”

She nods, lying back and staring up at the ceiling as Harry slowly pulls her panties down her legs. Then, she thinks she should watch him, right? It’d be boring to just stare at the blank ceiling the entire time. So, she lifts her head–and only her head–and her neck cramps at the odd angle. She goes to sit up all the way, right as Harry begins to press kisses to her stomach, right below her belly button.

“Hey, you okay?” He looks up at her, his lips inches from her stomach. His heavy breaths caress her skin, and she can feel wisps of it brushing over her pussy.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I’m okay. I’m just–I don’t really know what to do with myself.”

“Do you want to see a little bit?” Harry sits back up, reaching around her to grab the pillows. “Here, let me get these situated and…”

All she can do is look at him with, what she thinks is, a loving gaze. Except, it can’t be love, because…it just can’t be. She’s never been in love. So, how would she know what is and isn’t love?

It just seems crazy that she would love Harry after a few short months of knowing each other. But, then again, despite the short amount of time they’ve known each other, they’ve also been seeing each other nearly every day. They’ve grown incredibly close, but she doesn’t think it’s love. It just can’t be.

But watching him arrange the pillows in a way so that she isn’t comfortable–she can’t imagine anyone else being so accommodating, so thoughtful. It reignites the…the fire she feels between her legs.

When Harry finishes the final touches to her makeshift pillow lift, he brings his face right in front of hers. The air shifts between them to something more intense. Sure, they’ve already done something, but what they’re about to do–Harry eating her out–just feels more…intimate than a handjob.

He whispers, “Better?”

She nods. “Can you kiss me?”

Harry answers by pressing his lips to hers, opening his mouth and inviting her tongue inside. He moans as she licks into his mouth, then he pushes her down onto the pillows, kissing her one last time before crawling down her body.

“You’re gonna have to tell me what to do,” he says with a laugh before he kisses her pelvis region. “I’ve no clue what I’m doing.”

“M-kay.” She giggles. “Well, first of all, get down there.” She pushes his head, and they’re both giggling until Harry comes face to face with her glistening cunt, and she can feel his stuttering breaths against herself. Once again, the mood shifts from goofy to intense, and their giggles diminish as Harry patiently waits for her instructions.

“And, uh…” She gasps for breath. Part of her just wants to tell him to have at it, and do what feels right. But Harry literally has no clue what is right and what is wrong. “Uh, here.” She drags her hands down her body and pulls apart her lips to reveal even more of herself to Harry.

She wonders if he felt this exposed when she was stroking him. She wonders if he feels as vulnerable as she does right now. Not even she has been so close to her own vagina as Harry is at this very moment. He’s seeing things she’s never seen before, and for a split second, she prays that everything looks in tip-top shape.

“This is the clit,” she says slowly. She stares straight up at the ceiling, too embarrassed to see Harry’s face or meet his eyes. “It’s…it’s where you should focus most on…because it’s the only part of the human body that is strictly for sexual pleasure. It doesn’t have any other purpose.”

Harry hums to entertain her. He knows what the fuck a clit is; he paid attention in sex education. Still, he thinks it’s nice to have a refresher, because it’s better than him going in too cocky and fucking it all up.

“But, of course, you can…just…” Her finger gestures to her entire cunt. “Go all over, too. Just make sure to focus on my clit.”

“M-kay.” Harry drags his hands up her thighs slowly, feeling her hot skin beneath his palms. He pushes her legs apart even more, reveling in her sharp intake of breath above him.

“Uh…If I, like,” she forces out a laugh, “smell bad or taste bad, you don’t have to do it.”

“Okay,” he breathes out, his mouth watering the longer he stares at her puffy lips, her glistening hole, and her swollen clit. “Are you ready?”

She nods. “Mmhm.”

Harry wraps his arms around the thick of her thighs, and he goes to dive in, but then he pauses. “What should I do first?”

“Um.” She breathes in shakily, and her hips involuntarily roll up to his mouth. His breath is right on her, and it feels like his mouth is right there. She can feel her arousal dripping out of her hole, and she shoves down the whine threatening to crawl up her throat. “Just give me a lick, from–like, from the bottom, to the top. Flatten your tongue and–yeah.”

When Harry does as instructed, licking a flat stripe from her dribbling hole to her swollen clit, a broken, gasped moan escapes from her lips. She arches her back, rolling her hips up to his mouth. Harry does it again, pushing his tongue deeper into her cunt. When he reaches her clit, he wraps his lips around it and gives it a little suck before pulling away.

“Yes, yes!” she cries out. Her hands grab onto his hair, and Harry groans when she gives it a good tug. His cock twitches against the mattress. “That was good, do that again.” Her voice grows more frantic as Harry continues to eat her pussy. He sucks on her clit a little harder, and his eyes roll into the back of his head when she tugs especially hard on his locks.

“Sorry! Sorry.” She loosens her hold and pets his head, making him laugh against her core.

“It’s alright, baby,” he murmurs, his lips grazing her own. “I liked it. You can do it some more…Don’t be scared to pull too hard.” He wonders if she’ll think he’s weird for wanting her to pull hard. Will she judge him for liking the pain?

She cautiously threads her fingers into his hair again, and she experimentally tugs. Harry lets out the smallest noise against her. Then, to be a cheeky pest, she pulls really hard.

“Ow!”

“What, too hard?” She grins down at him.

Harry returns a half-lidded, unimpressed stare. Then he wraps his lips around her clit and sucks hard.

She throws her head back, a noise Harry’s never heard before leaving her mouth. Then, to be a cheeky pest, he doesn’t let up.

“Harry!” Her hands leave his hair and she pushes his face away from her. Harry fights back, giggling as he desperately sticks his tongue out to catch any part of her with the tip of his tongue.

She gasps for breath, her chest heaving. “Fuck you.”

Harry belts out a loud laugh at that.

She grabs the hair at the top of his head. “Shut up and lick.” She doesn’t realize how rude it is to shove his face into her cunt without asking until she’s already done it. Panic floods her body before its quickly replaced by pleasure when he immediately resumes licking into her, completely unbothered by her aggressive actions. In fact, she thinks he liked it, because he eagerly eats her out. She whimpers and ruts against his mouth, watching with a crumbled expression as he sucks on her clit. “L–Lick it, please, Harry. Put your tongue on it.”

“On your clit?” He lays his tongue flat over the swollen bud.

“Y–Yeah, but–I want–a little firmer, and more frequent. Like, point your tongue a little bit and–” A breathy moan leaves her when Harry laps at her clit with a firmer stroke. Then he puckers his lips around it and sucks before resuming his licking. His tongue paired with his lips sends her into a dizzying haze of pleasure. “Oh, my God, Harry,” she whispers, her face crumbling as her fingers tangle in his hair, locking his head between her legs.

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna come.” A muffled whine escapes from her, and she arches her back and pulls Harry’s face deeper between her thighs. Her lips part to exhale short, choppy breaths. The pleasure is intensifying slowly in a way that leaves her quivering for the finale. It feels so much different than when she pleasures herself.

She remembers that belly breathing helped intensify an orgasm–something she’d learned from Tik Tok. For someone who wasn’t very interested in having sex with anyone, she sure did stumble onto sextok quite a bit. She’s learned many helpful tips that she was sure she would never use in her life.

So, she evens out her breaths, her stomach rising and falling dramatically. It helps though, because the sparks of pleasure intensify. “Fuck, Harry.” Her mouth falls open and she lets out a loud screech as she orgasms.

Harry panics for a moment, because that noise she made obviously meant she climaxed, right? Plus, she gushed a bit into his mouth and on his chin. But she’s still holding him to her, so does he still need to lick her? When she was stroking him after he came, it kind of hurt, so he had to pull her hands off. Is it hurting her?

He decides to continue licking her and sucking on her clit until she finally pushes him away.

They both lie on the bed, breathing heavily. Slick sweat covers their body, shining underneath the soft glow of the lamp.

“That was–” She closes her eyes and inhaled deeply. Her body is still trembling, and she’s a bit embarrassed by it. Harry wasn’t nearly as flustered as she is after his orgasm. “That was really good, Harry.”

“Really?”

She nods. “Mm-hmm. I don’t–” Can she take another orgasm like that? She’s not sure. It was really intense. Maybe one is enough. They could still have sex; she just wouldn’t need to come.

Harry notices her…exhaustion. “We can stop right here, if you want. We don’t have to go all the way tonight.” The corners of his lips lift up into a smug smirk. “You seem a little…tired already.“

Her face relaxes into a deadpanned look. “No, I still want to have sex,” she decides. Fuck Harry and his newfound cockiness. He doesn’t deserve to feel this smug after his first time. Who knows if he’s even good? She might just have low expectations because she’s never been eaten out before.

Harry presses his lips together to hide his smile, but it still shines through. He crawls over her body until his head is aligned with hers. He leans down and sweetly pecks her nose. Her stomach flutters at the gentle gesture, and her suffocating pride washes away.

She smiles up at him, and he softy beams down at her.

They don’t say anything for a while. She just looks at him, taking in his flushed cheeks and wide eyes and swollen lips and–the bottom of his face is all wet. Warmth floods her cheeks with the realization that it’s from her. She opens her mouth, no noises coming out.

Hastily, she reaches up and wipes his face with her hand because it must be uncomfortable for him, right? He might think it’s weird and gross and–

And Harry gently holds her wrist before she can pull her hand away, and his eyes stare intently into hers before they focus on her hand. He doesn’t hesitate to lean in and stick his tongue out. The firm muscle strokes her fingers, and her breath hitches at the obscene sight.

She then thinks he could suck on her fingers because he’s going to have to stretch her out before putting his cock inside her. The erotic thought is so arousing that she almost voices it, until she realizes that it needs to be her that’s sucking on his fingers because he’s going to be the one stretching her out.

Right, she needs to calm down a bit. She’s obviously not thinking straight.

But maybe he doesn’t want to stick his fingers up her. She doesn’t know why, because he just had his mouth on her, so why would he be hesitant about his fingers? But, she should ask first, just to be sure.

“I–uh.” Harry then blushes, hard. “I…like the way you taste.”

She feels hot all over. “Really?”

He nods shyly. “I, um. I really enjoyed that.”

She laughs a bit. “Yeah, me too.”

Then his features shift back to that smug little smirk. “Yeah? So I did good?”

She rolls her eyes. “I guess. Anyways, um, I’m gonna have to get stretched out before…”

He nods. “Okay, do I just…?” Then she feels the tips of his fingers on her cunt, moving around a bit to find her hole.

She sucks in a harsh gasp and squirms when he moves a little too far down. “Right here, right here,” she says quickly, grabbing his hand and positioning his fingers over the right hole.

Harry nods obediently, the tips pushing in just slightly before he hesitates. “You good? You still want to do this?”

She nods, sneaking her hands under his arms and laying her palms flat on his shoulders. She takes a deep breath and braces herself. “I’m sure.”

She arches her back a bit when Harry pushes his fingers in. They slide in smoothly, thanks to her orgasm. She wonders if she’ll feel anything from them, because she doesn’t when she fingers herself.

When Harry experimentally thrusts his fingers into her until it’s smooth and wet, she speaks up. “If you curl your fingers up, you’ll hit the g-spot. Though I’m pretty sure it’s just a myth and it’s actually just–” She’s cut off by her own gasp when Harry curls his fingers just right and she feels something. “Oh, my God.” She gasps again, and her back arches in pleasure rather than discomfort.

She lets out a deep moan, rolling her hips to meet his fingers. “Fuck, Harry.” She wraps her arms around his neck and tucks her head underneath his jaw. “That feels really good.”

“Does it?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Do I just keep curling and uncurling my fingers?”

“You can try thrusting them again, and maybe curl at the end?”

Harry does as instructed, even though she sounds just as clueless as he feels.

She hugs him closer and twists her neck, her lips grazing his jaw as she quietly asks, “Can you, can you speed up a little bit?”

Harry hums, quickening his thrusts. She lets out a long, quiet moan right into his ear. “Scissor them,” she whispers. “Gotta stretch me out for another finger.”

“How many are we gonna go up to?”

She hums thoughtfully. “Three?”

Harry nods, determined. Honestly, this is taking a lot longer than he thought it would. Not that he’s complaining, because he’s really enjoying every second of it–it’s just not what he expected, is all.

It’s when he fits three fingers into her that she shifts uncomfortably. “Um, do we have that lube? It’s getting a little dry.”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’ll get it.” She yelps a bit when he yanks his fingers out in his haste to get her comfortable again. “Sorry! Sorry.” He pets her cunt, and it makes her laugh.

They’re both giggling as Harry rummages through the plastic bag on the ground. He grabs a couple condoms and the lube bottle before he sits back up on the bed.

“Okay,” he says as he squirts some lube–maybe too much–onto the palm of his hand, “do you want me to warm it up a bit?”

“No,” she shakes her head, “it’s okay. But, uh, it’s supposed to go on your fingers, not your palm.”

His mouth opens. “Right.” He wipes his hands on the towel underneath her body.

“You don’t need a lot of lube either.”

“Okay.” He squirts a tiny bit onto his three fingers. “This good?”

“Mm, a little bit more.”

“Good?”

She nods, flashing him a smile. She giggles a little bit. “Yes, that’s good.”

Harry grins back at her, hovering over her body and finding her hole again a little easier. The initial thrust is smooth thanks to the extra lubrication. She sighs with relief at the cold wetness.

“Could you rub my clit a little bit?”

Harry hums, sitting back on his heels and looking down at his hands. His other hand gingerly hovers over her core, his fingers delicately touching her clit. He rubs in slow circles.

“Remember to keep thrusting.”

“Oh, right.” The fingers on her clit slow down a bit as he picks up the pace of his thrusts. Then he quickens his circles on her clit. “I’m not very good at multitasking.”

She barks out a laugh. “You’ll get better at it.”

The discomfort from the stretch of his fingers turned her off a bit, so she wanted to get her body ready again for his cock. But now, as he works both her clit and her supposed g-spot, she can feel another orgasm quickly approaching.

She pushes herself up by her elbows, her hips rolling over and under his hands. “Wait, Harry–” A small gasp escapes her, and she hangs her head back, her hips moving even more.

She lets out a whine when Harry stops. “What?”

“Nevermind, keep going, keep going!” She feels too good to make him stop. Tears brim her eyes, her face scrunching up with pleasure as he quickly resumes his hands. Her mouth falls open, moaning loudly as her second organs quickly washes over her, taking them both by surprise.

Harry’s tone holds surprise, along with a bit of curiosity. “Wow, you’re–you’re clenching around my fingers.”

“Oh, God.” She falls back onto the bed, meaning quietly as Harry continues his movements. She rides out the rest of her orgasm, then she pushes his hands away when it starts to hurt.

Harry watches her as she calms down. This orgasm seemed more intense than the last despite happening much quicker than he anticipated. She looks even more spent. “Are you sure you still want to continue?”

She nods weakly as she heaves for breaths. “Just…give me a minute.”

Harry cheekily grins down at her, crawling over her and hovering over her body. “I’ll give you a couple minutes.”

She’s too tired to even respond. Harry rests some of his weight on her, leaning down and peppering kisses anywhere his lips can reach.

“Okay, I’m ready.” She nods with determination a few minutes later. She tries to ignore the ball of anxiety growing in her stomach.

She hopes it doesn’t hurt too much. And, she doesn’t think she’ll ever be as vulnerable as she is right now, as Harry attempts to get the condom on by himself.

She swallows thickly as she stares at his cock, his clumsy fingers fumbling with the condom. She would offer her help, but she knows it wouldn’t be very useful. Plus, she’s only growing more and more nervous the closer they get to actually having sex.

He has the condom on (after throwing away the first and rolling open a second one). He applies some lube over it, stroking his cock a few times. He lets out a whimper at his own touch, his hips rolling up to meet his hand.

Her eyes widen at that. That’s what he’s going to be doing to her in literally a couple minutes. His strong thighs flex as he lifts his hips. His thick cock disappears under his fingers, and the head peeks out every so often as he bucks into his hand.

His cock just seems…so large. And she’s not sure whether it’s because she’s a virgin and has never seen one before in real life, or if he’s actually just big.

She wasn’t worried about it when she was stroking his length, because she wasn’t thinking about it actually going inside of her.

But Harry’s stretched her out enough, right? He used three fingers, but maybe four wouldn’t hurt?

Panic fills her gut and she quickly reaches down and shoves three fingers into her. Oh, God, she’s already tightening up again. Is she wet enough? She can’t get too wet or else she won’t be able to feel anything, or at least that’s what she’s learning from Tik Tok–

“Hey.” A gentle tone interrupts her racing thoughts, and a gentle–albeit wet–hand lays over her thigh. Harry’s thumb rubs against her skin in a way he hopes is comforting.

She looks up to meet Harry’s soft gaze.

“Are you okay?”

“Just nervous.” She lets out a small laugh, and then shocks herself when tears spring to her eyes. “Sorry–”

“Hey, don’t be sorry.” He leans over her and makes sure to wipe his hand on the towel beneath her before he cups her cheek. His thumb repeats the comforting motions. “You can back out literally mid-thrust, I don’t care.”

She lets out a more genuine laugh, and he giggles quietly with her.

“Do you want to back out now?”

She looks deep into his eyes and shakes her head. “Just–can you make sure I’m stretched out enough? I feel like I’m tight again.”

“Of course, baby.”

When he inserts his fingers back into her, she realizes she’s overreacting, because it feels the exact same.

“You’re just as loose as before. I think if you get nervous, you’re gonna tighten up. And you’re still plenty wet, unless you want me to add more lube?”

She shakes her head again. “No, I’m good. Just…Are you ready?”

He nods, then he situates himself on top of her, his elbows laying on either side of her head to hold himself up. “Uh, spread your legs for me?”

She does so, and then she completely panics when Harry rests more of his weight on her, and she can feel his length pressed up against her core.

“Hey, hey, hey. You all right?”

Her voice is high-pitched, her tone careful. “Uh huh.”

“Seriously, if you want to stop–”

“I don’t, I don’t. Please.” She grasp his shoulders. “I’m gonna be nervous. Let’s just–” Well, let’s not just get this over with. That’s not very nice to say. And it’s not at all how she feels.

Harry carefully watches her, then he dips down and kisses her deeply. As she gets lost in their kiss, he rolls his hips forward, his cock pushing between her lips.

She gasps, pulling away and squirming underneath him. Panic is clear in her voice. “What–What are you doing?!”

Harry kisses her. “Just gonna…grind against you a bit. I’m not going inside yet.”

She unintentionally lets out a sigh of relief. “Okay, okay.” That sounds nice, actually.

And it feels really nice. The head of his cock nudges her clit with every gentle grind of his hips. She moans against his mouth, bending her knees and dragging her foot up his calf. “Fuck, Harry.”

“Does that feel good?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Harry grinds harder against her, and she lets out an even louder moan. All thoughts of panic or terror are completely wiped from her mind. Pleasure consumes her, and the fire in her belly reignites.

His cock feels so good against her. She wonders if it’ll feel just as good–if not better–inside of her. She really wants to find out.

“Harry,” she whimpers against his lips. “I’m ready, please.” She opens her mouth and kisses him deeply, pushing her tongue past his lips.

Harry hums into the kiss, stroking her tongue with his. “Do you feel better? You’re not as nervous?”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m not nervous anymore.” Then it hits her.

They’ve been doing this for nearly an hour already. And in that time, Harry’s come once while she’s gotten off twice. Even then, he came right at the beginning, so the rest of the time has been spent taking care of her.

His cock grew hard relatively quickly after he came, and he’s been hard ever since. That has to be painful, but she never thought about it because Harry never once complained.

He’s been quiet about his discomfort because he doesn’t want to pressure her into moving too quickly. He wants to go at her pace, despite his cock begging for the opposite.

It’s getting increasingly hard for him to muffle his sounds though as he rubs his cock through her folds. He whimpers and whines into her mouth and she’s been swallowing his pretty noises up without even thinking about what they mean.

He’s hurting, and he pushing it aside for her comfort. He’s delaying his relief for as long as it takes to get her to calm down again (and it took quite a while).

God, he really cares about her. And she really cares about him. She loves that he’s so thoughtful, that he’s been so especially thoughtful tonight. It’s one of the things she likes most about him.

His warm hands on her waist help anchor her back to the moment. His fingers softly grasp her skin, his fingers dancing along and leaving goosebumps in their paths. Every single one of his touches has felt so good tonight.

“Sorry,” she laughs. “It’s just–You’re being so sweet, and I can’t imagine this going better with anyone else.”

When Harry grins at her, the skin around his eyes crinkle, and she finds that his eyes are glassy as well, reflecting all of her comfort and gratitude back at her. “Me neither. This is–I’m just really glad it’s you.”

She nods. “Me, too.” Then she leans up and kisses him hot and hard, moaning into his mouth. “C’mon, let’s do it.”

He giggles against her lips. “‘Kay.” Carefully, he reaches down and grasps his length. “This is the right hole, right?“

She laughs out loud, throwing her head back and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Yes, it is.”

Harry lets out a sheepish laugh. “Sorry if I bust before you even cum.”

“It’s okay.” A gentle smile stretches her lips. “You can just eat me out again. You were pretty good at that.”

Harry opens his mouth to respond, but he finds no words to say. His face flushes, hard, and a strangled squawk leaves his lips. He dips his head sheepishly into her neck, whining against her skin when she snickers then threads her fingers through his hair at the back of his head. He’s suddenly a little nervous as he starts to push his hips forward.

They both gasp as the tip of his cock dips inside her.

“You okay?”

She nods. “You okay?”

Harry nods. Then he pushes in even more. Her tight walls squeeze around him, pulling a rough moan from his throat.

“Is it–“ His voice is strained as he tries to contain himself. He feels an immense desire to ram his hips forward, to sink into her all the way. “Is it wet enough?”

She nods, her eyes squeezed shut. “Honestly, just do it it all. Like a bandaid.” She hopes he gets the message; her brain is a little foggy at the moment.

“Are–Are you sure?” Once again, he’s reminded of how similarly they think, how their minds almost seem to be aligned. He really swears she can read his mind.

“Yes, please, do it.”

Harry takes one deep breath, then in one smooth motion, he completely slides into her.

They both let out a shout of a moan. And…holy shit.

“Holy shit,” she breathes out, resting her forehead on Harry’s shoulder.

“Holy shit,” Harry gasps. A wrinkle of pleasure crawls up his spine, and he moans loudly into her neck when he presses his hips against hers as closely as possible.

And…fuck, sex feels really good.

She doesn’t feel any pain. Sure, there’s some discomfort from the stretch of his girth, but…underneath that, there’s a thick layer of pleasure that’s currently coursing through her veins. Despite the main event of the night happening between her legs, she feels that spark of ecstasy in her breasts, tingling her nipples. She feels it on the sides of her neck, just underneath her ears. A dizzying wave of heat envelopes her, and she can barely register her mouth moving. “Go, please.”

“Fuck.” Harry reels his hips back and experimentally thrusts forward. “Oh, my God.” He doesn’t know why all his friends complain about using condoms, that they don’t feel a thing. Harry feels everything. Her walls are so snug around him, and when he pulls out, he can feel his cock literally being sucked right back in.

“Harry, go, please,” she begs. “It doesn’t hurt.”

Every snap of his hips brings a new sensation of pleasure neither her nor Harry have ever experienced before. Their skin, glistening with sweat, slaps against each other, and the sound shouldn’t be so hot, but it is, and it’s making her even more wet and it’s spurring Harry on to drive into her even harder.

He groans when her fingers lock onto his hair and pull. She tugs even harder, signaling she wants to look at him. When he brings his head back, she slams her lips onto his, mewling and whining into his mouth. The kiss distracts Harry a bit, her tongue caressing the inside of his mouth draws his attention more to her mouth than his hips.

She giggles into the kiss. “You’re right. You suck at multitasking.”

He giggles with her, then whines, tucking his head back into her neck. “Stop,” he whines, dragging the word out. “M’sorry, you just feel–oh–so fucking good.”

“So do you,” she whispers. She cradles the back of his head, her eyes fluttering shut with pleasure. “You feel so good, Harry.”

The clear bliss in her honest tone makes Harry slow down. She sounds like she’s in another world, somewhere far away. And he wants to go there with her. He wants to feel the rapture that’s consuming her. He wants his toes curling and his body trembling.

So, he slows down, and tries not to get too lost in the pleasure. He wants to stay in the moment, reveling in every single second he’s inside her. He never wants to forget this feeling of euphoria.

For just a moment, he forgets about her. He realizes then how men can be so selfish during sex. When it feels this amazing, it can be easy to forget that you’re literally partaking in this act with another person. A drop of guilt dampens his pleasure. He can’t forget about her, not when she’s the reason he’s feeling this good. Not when she’s the only reason he wants to do this.

“Baby…” He lifts his head and smushes his face against her cheek, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her skin over and over again. His brain is so hazy that he finds himself struggling to think of much else besides the pleasure coursing through his cock. He moves down to her neck, and really begins to suck her skin into his mouth. He nibbles on a particular spot, then lays his tongue over it in hopes of soothing the pain.

“Oh, my god, Harry.” She arches her back into him and sucks in a sharp breath. “Fuck…” Then she grabs his hand, and guides it to her breast. “Please.” Her fingers squeeze around his, making him pinch her nipple. Harry quickly catches on, and he twists and pulls on her hardened bud before deeply massaging her breast.

His lips travel to the center of her neck, his tongue licks up her chin, and his mouth meets hers in a steamy kiss. His other hand slides under her neck, then moves to the back of her head where he fists her hair and turns her head. She whines at the slight pull on her hair, realizing how good it felt. She wants him to pull harder.

He was guiding her face away from him to kiss on her other cheek, so when she tries to reconnect their lips, he tightens his grip on her hair and pulls harder, forcing her to peer over his shoulder as his lips travel across her cheek.

She cries out, “Yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes!” She gasps for breath as she lifts her hips up to meet his thrusts. Her hands smooth up and down his back, and when he thrusts into her again, it feels different, and it feels really fucking good. She grabs at him, trying to anchor herself as he continues to deliver her all the pleasure. Her nails dig into his skin, but neither of them notice.

Harry suddenly announces, “Oh, my God, I’m gonna come!”

“Please, Harry–I need–My clit–”

Harry’s hand fumbles between their bodies as it travels down to her pussy. His fingers messily rub against her, and she doesn’t really think he’s too concerned with finding the exact location of her clit, because the four fingers he’s using aren’t necessarily focusing right on the bud, more so just the area he thinks it’s at. But, he is hitting the right spot, and her clit is so swollen and stimulated that it doesn’t take much to send mind-boggling sparks of pleasure up her spine.

Harry orgasms first, and the moans he’s letting out directly into her ear is what finally sends her over the edge.

He collapses on top of her, and she welcomes the weight with open arms, even if they’re both sticky with sweat and cum. Her ears are ringing a bit, and she thinks if she were to stand up right now, she’d see stars and pass out. Is that when you know you’ve had good sex?

Her muscles tremble, and she can feel Harry’s own body quivering above her. Yeah, that was great sex.

Her tone is slightly incredulous and very blunt. “Oh, my fucking God.”

Harry wheezes out a laugh into her neck. “Jesus Christ.”

“I kinda feel like crying.”

Harry pulls away from her neck, his own eyes glistening and a sappy smile on his face. “Me, too!”

They both giggle, then Harry moves to pull out. Then they both groan.

“I’m just gonna–“ he dives right back into her, laying on her and kissing her neck sweetly “–lay here for a bit more. I know I’m supposed to get the towel and clean you up and whatnot, but I can’t feel my legs right now.”

She giggles, running her fingers through his hair and gently combing through the tangles. He purrs into her skin. “And whatnot? What, you finally fuck me and you suddenly drop the romance?”

“Never,” he mumbles into her jaw, kissing her skin over and over. “Never, never, never, I–“ I like you too much. “…I like you too much.” They’ve literally just had sex with each other for the first time ever; Harry doesn’t think she’s going to get scared away by him expressing his likeness for her.

A giddy smile stretches her lips. She turns her head and kisses him over and over. “I like you, too. A lot.” Like, a lot a lot. “Like, a lot a lot.”There’s no point in holding back now; they just gave themselves to each other in one of the most intimate and vulnerable ways she can think of.

“I can’t wait to do that again.”

She barks out a laugh. “You’re literally still shaking!”

#harry styles #harrystyles #harryfanfiction #harrystylesfanfiction #harryfluff #harrystylesfluff #fanfiction #harry #harryfic #harry fic #my writing #harrysmut #harry smut #lmnop #harry fan fiction #harry styles fan fiction #harry fluff #harry styles fluff #our first time

111 notes · View notes