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teaspoon-full-of-sugar · 9 months

Text

tangointhenight

pairing: harry styles x reader (au)

warnings: idiots in love trope, long-distance fwb (sounds weird but it makes sense just give her a read luv), switch!harry and switch!reader, detailed descriptions of female and male masterbation, maladaptive daydreaming during a fanfic, mentions of exhibitionism, edging, one singular ‘daddy’, cum swapping, breeding kink, praise kink and degradation, rope play, spitting, choking, mutual masterbation, overstimulation, use of toys (vibrator mostly), crying after sex (iconic)

word count: 13.3k

synopsis: harry records erotic audios, and y/n is an avid listener

author’s note: hello nasties, here’s another filth fic for ya! this has been a long time in the making, and i am so sorry i have been mia for so long, but i am back for the time being to give you this fic. i have wanted to do something like this for a while now, but it’s been a struggle (lots of blood, sweat, and tears put into this). i’m kinda proud of her to be honest, and i hope you enjoy :)

tags: @victoria-styles

masterlist

—

Y/N finally sinks into her mattress after yet another tiring day. She can hear her roommate on the other side of the wall, chatting with her girlfriend over the phone, blissfully ignorant to the fact that she currently has a hand teasing the band of her sweatpants while the other scrolls aimlessly through her phone.

Exhaustion burns behind her eyes, but there’s a desperate ache in her belly, one that demands satiety. She opens the internet app to find it unchanged from the night before, still lighting up in the profile named tangointhenight. His profile picture is a tantalizing photo of his hand, splayed across his thigh, which are clad in tight, floral printed pants, doing wonders for the very prominent bulge. Pieces of paint linger on his thumbnail, a pretty pale mint color, and his skin, tanned with faint freckles and etches of dark ink, looks tempting in the golden light. At his wrist is a braided twine bracelet with cheap beads that have letters that she can’t make out, which looks old and wilted.

She scrolls down, only lingering for a moment to appreciate the photo one final time.

There are some cute little posts and polls in addition to his erotic audios. The newest one, posted just that afternoon, warns not to listen to this in public with a series of cute little emoticons following. If there’s one thing she’s learned about Tango, that’s what she and other listeners call him, is that he’s a bit of an exhibitionist; his audios tend to lean toward nearly getting caught or even being caught (oftentimes leading to a “helping out” situation). She honestly wasn’t into that sort of thing until he started talking about it, and now, she finds it incredibly sexy, the thrill of the quick high and the fear of being caught in such a vulnerable moment.

She’ll definitely have to give the new audio a listen on one of her morning commute trips to the university; perhaps, she could give it a listen while she waits for her class to start, his deep voice teasing and coaxing her into an aching mess. She hopes that it’ll leave her trembling and throbbing for the rest of the day. She wonders if she’ll be able to make it until night before she has to finish herself off or if she’ll have to sneak off to the restrooms during one of her seven minute breaks, foot propped up on the toilet paper dispenser while she rubs herself to her bitter end.

She scrolls down a bit, passing over audios that vary from pillow talk to a dirty fuck in back alleys, before tapping on the familiar link, purple from use, the description teasingly saying: we’ve been visiting my mum for a week, and I haven’t been able to taste you... I guess we’ll just have to be quiet.

It’s one of the first audios she listened to when she was just discovering this new world of pleasure, so it has a special place in her heart. It’s one of his firsts from nearly a year ago, of fuzzy listening quality and nervous voice, but she finds his ramblings endearing; although, admittedly, she thinks anything he does is cute.

She tucks in her earbuds and presses the play button. Tossing the phone to the side, her eyes flutter closed, visions of white dotting through the darkness as they adjust. There’s a subtle cracking sound that indicates that it has finally loaded, and a fuzzy droning sound filters through the headphones. There’s a fan going in the background; it squeaks and grumbles nearby. A door creaks open, one of those fake sound effects that you can buy, but she appreciates the effort.

“Hey, lovie, feelin’ better?”

His familiar voice floats through her ears. She settles even more into her sheets. His voice is a nice, hot cup of tea at the end of a hard day, a drug that leaves her head foggy and senses dulled. His voice reminds her of sleep: deep, soothing, persistent, yet ever fleeting. She yearns for it, like being able to listen to that one mazing song for the first time again or the feeling of sunshine after the long winter months. His voice is intoxicating, reaching a baritone timbre that she can’t quite put to words.

At first, she wanted to put a face to the man who hummed sweet nothings in her ears, who coaxed her to oblivion for nights on end. Now, she’s at ease with never knowing. It keeps things interesting, and she doesn’t think about it as much anymore.

“If only mum wasn’t home, maybe we could’ve snuck a quick one in the shower,” he says. She smirks, picturing him tucked into his childhood bed, a cozy twin that would be a struggle for the both of them to fit in, and he has his old quilt tucked up to his neck, leaving his bare feet exposed because of how little it is.

There’s a moment of silence, then a cute little laugh.

“I know. You wouldn’t want to sin in her godly home, but she loves you, probably more than me. I don't think she would think any differently of you.”

Another beat of silence, then his voice catches in his throat. Y/N smiles softly as he stutters pitifully, slowly, struggling to find his words.

“N-no, y’know tha's not how I meant it,” he says. “Like, she loves you more than she loves me. Not that I don’t love you as much as she does.” He moves, the rustling of his sheets crackling in her ears. She can hear his hand run over his stubble, nails scratching over short little hairs. She wonders if he usually grows out his facial hair or if he’s the type to keep clean shaven.

“She couldn’t possibly love you more than I do.” The bed creaks as he shifts again. “C’mon, babe, join me. ‘S all nice and warm.”

She herself burrows further into her blankets, knowing full well that she’s probably going to be kicking them off in a few minutes. She turns to her side, blinking her eyes open, trying to immerse herself into the fantasy.

“‘M glad you got time off of work to come here with me. I know you could've been spending time back home, but you came here with me instead.” His voice is closer than before, however whispered. Every accentuated vowel that passes through his lips is like a breath of fresh air, and she hums quietly at the sound.

“I really appreciate it. ‘M glad we got to spend this time together.”

She imagines that he tucks her into his neck, coddling her while his fingers trace over the curves of her face, from the furrow of her brow, down to the apple of her cheeks, before stopping at her lips, lingering only momentarily before his thumb would push just past them.

He chuckles suddenly.

“What does it look like I’m doing? Jus’ lovin’ on my girl.”

His short pecks turn into slow, passionate kisses, deep sighs of relief falling from his lips, and she swears she can almost feel his breath on her skin, nose pressed tight to the pulsepoint in her neck as he sponges his lips over her collarbone, teeth nibbling lightly. She tugs the tee up from where it’s settled at her hips to where the curves of her breasts begin, the material squeezing them tightly to her chest. The sensitive skin aches under the tight pressure. She teases her nipples through her thin bra, feeling the tenderness coax chills down her spine.

“Please,” he whines. “Wanna taste you. You can be quiet. I believe in you, love.”

She could picture him now, chin resting on her stomach, eyes pleading with her. She would flick his head at the patronizing tone before brushing her fingers through his hair. Would he have short tuffs or long tresses that she could run her fingers through after a long day, breaking apart the knots that accumulate throughout the day? Does he have pin straight, dark locks that are cut close to his scalp or sand coloured curls that fall gracefully on his forehead? Perhaps, he has a bit of gray peaking through his hairline to match his wise and weathered voice. She could almost moan at the thought. She has always had a thing for older men.

Tango says something, but she can’t really hear it, his words muffled by her racing heart. She pries her pants down shaky legs, leaving them dangling around her ankle, and her fingers work quickly in massaging her puffy clit, arousal wetting the tender skin. Not one for having much patience, she doesn’t wait for him to finish worshiping her body with his mouth before she is rubbing herself through her panties, feeling the cold wetness on her fingertips. Eyes closed, her head falls back on her pillows, legs tensing when she stops suddenly.

“Pretty thighs,” he mumbles to himself between kisses, and she could almost feel his tender touches on the backs of her thighs, which tremble with anticipation. A wetly placed kiss followed by an appreciative hum signals his final descent to her cunt. The sound of languid licks are nearly enough to make her finish, walls clenching miserably around nothing. Fingers slowing close to a dead stop, barely more than a faint fluttering on her sensitive skin, she attempts to collect herself, but it’s difficult when he moans once again, muffled by his furiously working lips.

“Love your pussy, baby.” She melts at his words, eyes rolling back as waves of pleasure rack through her body, hips stuttering in time with each flick of her wrist. “So warm and wet and jus’ perfect for me.” His voice, low with need, makes her throb, arousal slipping into her panties.

She’s close already, an unfortunate effect he has on her. Barely five minutes into her alone time, and she can feel the orgasm begin to build, like an unyielding inferno spreading through every nerve. The stress from her day, the exhaustion with the world, everything melts into just one prominent feeling threatening to burst from her pores. She has to force herself to stop before she falls over the edge in order to draw out this experience as much as possible. She nearly cries out when she pulls her hand away altogether, her poor, puffy clit throbbing painfully.

This continues for a while, the undulating waves of a blistering release and the torture of a cut off orgasm, until the air becomes thick, her heaving breaths heating her empty room.

“There’s my good girl,” he says. “Use me, lovie. Want you to choke me with your pretty thighs.”

His voice is more firm this time, and she could only picture his baleful eyes staring up at her, eager to please her and guide her over the edge. It makes her wonder what they look like; she wonders if they’re a soulful, deep chocolate that darken with lust, a pale blue that reminds her of warm afternoons, or a striking hazel that flickers with green hues in the light.

No matter the color, she is sure that they’re undoubtedly pretty.

“Please,” she whispers faintly.

“More? You want more, my greedy girl?” She nods pitifully, feeling the orgasm build quickly in her belly before she stops once again, fingers pressing into her throbbing clit. “You want my fingers?”

Her walls flutter fruitlessly for some sort of release, for some sort of stimulation. He moans out sharply.

“Feel so good, babylove,” he coos. “So warm and wet f’me.”

She wants to slip her fingers inside, to tease and massage that tender spot that she can barely reach until she struggles to breathe. She wants to feel full, but she doesn’t want to take care of the mess, and it surely won’t be comfortable sleeping in wet sheets. The wipes hidden alongside her other secret toys, beneath mounds of socks and crumpled underwear, do little to take care of the arousal that has pooled between her legs.

She fishes around her bedside table, fingers raking through bundles of panties to find her vibrator, a cheap little thing she got in a set when she first moved into her apartment. Unfortunately, she ran through the other ones that were in the set, and this is the only one left.

She nestles the vibrator on her swollen clit and ticks it on to the lowest setting. This stimulation is different than before; a vague rumbling rattles her bones, making her lips tremble, with choked cries teetering on her tongue. Obscene wet sounds fill her ears, and for a moment, she wonders whether they are coming from the audio or from her dripping pussy, and her thighs tighten around her wrist. She could only imagine the sight of his hands splayed over her hips and on her belly, perfectly pastel painted nails pressing into her wet skin. The shifting of her mattress worries her for only a moment, but her shame melts away, and she loses herself in the sound of his heavy, stifled groans, as if he is truly choking on her. The addition of the vibrator only serves to tease her more as she inches toward the end, brutally building in slow, abrupt waves. She struggles to swallow her whimpers.

He spits suddenly, and her hips jut forward at the sound, an erotic display of dominance, but he makes it seem like such a tender act; she could just melt.

“Can you take another?”

A beat of silence and a sharp intake of breath, squelching sounds growing louder.

“No? That’s alright, lovie, just two, then,” he coos. Her toes curl up a little at his words, hips rising from the mattress. On any other night, she would have craved more; she would have wanted him to coax her open with him telling her that she can take just one more and that she’s his good girl. It’s sad to be turned on by a man simply respecting her limits, but her clit throbs pitifully and some arousal slips out into her underwear.

“Gonna come for me, babe?” His words are slurred and wet. “Make me proud.”

Chills rushing down her spine, her body curls into itself, eager for her release. She wants to come so badly; she wants to feel the pleasure for days afterward, to tremble around her hand until she can’t take it anymore, to come until she’s seeing stars. She wants to make him proud, but she knows that she can’t come yet, or else she won’t be able to hear him finish. She doesn’t have another orgasm in her tonight, and she wants to prolong this experience as much as possible, even if that means holding out on her orgasm. The world spins behind her tightly screwed eyes as she slows her ministrations, the vibrator ticking back down to nothing. Her body reacts before she can even consider the loss, her hips bucking against the toy, attempting desperately to find that little bit of stimulation she needs to finally reach euphoria.

His lips smack loudly as he presses simulated kisses to skin, pulling her back from her foggy mind.

“So good f’me, pretty,” he says, words muted by skin. “So good. Hmm, I knew you could be quiet.” His kisses are slow and tired, unlike before when they were rushed and eager. His mattress grumbles as he moves once again, taking his time to, presumably, trail up the length of her trembling body until they’re suffocating in each other's embrace.

He sighs behind closed lips, heavy and wanton, and she can picture him working his hips into the mattress to find some sort of release. She would pull him up until he was right between her aching legs and press her lips to his neck, feeling his pulse jump at the contact. She would cup his cock through his thin pair of pajamas, teasingly massaging him until he just couldn't take it anymore, caution flying out of his mind as he is overcome by thoughts of her name, her skin, simply her. Trying to form a coherent thought, he would barely be able to hold himself up. She moans quietly at the thought.

“Babylove, we can’t—” He moans, his deep voice splintering. “I don’ know if I’ll be able to control myself.”

She has listened to this audio enough to know what to say to fill the silent gaps to fulfill the ultimate fantasy.

“Please,” she whispers into the dead air, barely audible over her roommate's voice in the next room. “Wanna feel you.” She wishes he was there for her to whisper in his ear, her fingers running up the plain of his back, feeling the heated skin tense at her words. He would quirk an eyebrow.

“Yeah? Y’wanna feel my big cock in y’tummy, pretty baby?”

“Yes,” she whimpers quietly, suddenly very aware of how much she truly wanted to be filled, to have him so impossibly close to her.

“Y’know I can’t say no to you.” She can hear the smile in his voice. She wonders what it looks like, if he beams with an eye-searing grin, his face splitting with happiness, or if he has a shy little smirk, just barely toying on his lips. She likes to think that he has a beautiful smile, filled with warmth and love. She melts a little, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her limbs to the tips of her fingers.

“Get on top.”

She does, eyes still closed as she sits and kneels on her mattress, one hand still between her legs, trying desperately to catch her poor, swollen clit at just the right angle that will leave her thighs quaking, her stomach clenching. Her underwear, which are still stuck around her knees, stretch and snap as her thighs slip and spread further on the sheets.

He moans sharply, and she can feel her hips unconsciously move, as if to pull that sound from him once again. The low vibrations from her little handheld leave her aching for more, nothing more than a faint rumble, but if she flicked it up to the next highest setting, it would surely be heard through the thin walls. Besides, she loves the teasing nearly as much as she hates it, just pushing to the brink before the rush subsides and settles into a quiet lull. Speechless, she gasps for air as yet another jilted orgasm subsides.

She works her hips slowly, careful of the squeaking of her mattress; there are only so many noises that can be passed off as her simply shifting around in her sleep. Her wrist aches at such an awkward angle, but she continues, the burning euphoria just beyond the horizon. He moans, and she nearly follows him, a crest of a cry nearly bursting from her chest but it comes out as a small whimper. She pushes her earbud deeper into her ear, as if to pull him closer.

“Sorry, jus’ feel so good,” he says sheepishly, and she can tell that he’s biting his lip by the faint lisp in his words. It would be torture for the both of them, to be so close but unable to move any faster or harder to finally reach the deepest, most pleasurable part, just barely scratching the itch for intimacy. He whimpers pitifully, and she thinks she might fall apart at the sound, but her stupid vibrator leaves her teetering back and forth between over the edge. She wiggles her hips to try to get a better angle, but with just a hint of stimulation, it’s a torturously slow build up.

“There it is, pretty,” he says, breaths faltering. “That’s the spot. Make yourself feel good, lovie. Use me.” Her legs ache at the awkward angle, trembling with overexertion. She wishes that she could let go of it, leaving it on the mattress with her pussy and thighs holding it in place, so she can grind on it, unhindered by her own body’s exhaustion, eagerly chasing her high. It would also free her hands to tease her breasts again, pulling and pinching at her hardened nipples.

“Love the way you feel, babylove,” he whispers. “Fuck, so wet f’me.” He curses again and again, as if no other words can properly describe the feeling of her, so soft, so warm, so fucking good. She could only picture him in abridged visions, his undoubtedly pretty lips parted with his pretty whimpers sneaking through, his features pinched in pleasure. Her eyes roll back as her orgasm quickly approaches.

“‘M gonna come,” he says suddenly. “Are you close, too?” She whimpers, arousal slips down her swollen lips and into her furiously working fingers, eager to finish alongside him. “Yeah? Y’gonna come with me? Y’gonna come on my cock, pretty?”

She is so close, so unbelievably close, and she struggles to relax her muscles to hold off for just a little longer.

“So fuckin’ good, such a good fuckin’ girl,” he says sharply. His mattress squeaks now, unable to hold back the sharp jolts of his hips, and he lets go of all inhibitions, moaning freely. She could imagine his hand tracing up her belly, cupping her swinging breasts, and he would suckle on her nipples until her fervent hips faltered. He would brush his hands up the curve of her back, digging into the muscles of her shoulders until she fell forward. Faces nestled together, interlocking like pieces of a puzzle, they would breathe each other in, savoring such a close moment of intimacy. It would feel like a lifetime as they waited with bated breath, using each other to get the most pleasure possible.

She comes when he does, holding her breath to keep the moans from slipping, which makes it all the more euphoric, the chance of nearly getting caught at her most vulnerable and the faint lightheadedness making her vision foggy. Her orgasm leaves her legs trembling, slipping away from her still buzzing toy, falling forward into her sheets. She breathes in sharply, barely holding back a pained cry; fat tears of pleasure soak into her blanket as euphoria crashes and beats into her muscles. The heart-racing, earth-shattering, limb-thrashing orgasm makes her chest heave. Just like she wanted, she is left spent on her mattress, the powerful rush still lingering in her trembling body.

She flips onto her back, quickly pulling her bottoms back up onto her hips. In her drunken stupor, her earbuds fell out, and she can vaguely hear Tango’s praises. She picks her phone back up, eyes straining under the bright light, and closes out of the audio.

Her head is light, foggy with the residual high. A dazed smile flickers over her lips, exhaustion settling deep in her bones, finally satiated by her orgasm.

She scrolls through his account once again, this time reading through some of his other posts, like links to playlists and cute stories. Suddenly, the little message icon in the corner looks so appealing, teasing and taunting. Perhaps, she’s feeling a little giddy from her high or maybe it’s from the exhaustion, but she can’t seem to find a reason to not do it.

She sends him a message.

Meanwhile, Harry stares at the blinking cursor petulantly. It taunts him amidst a sea of white, a blank canvas in what should have been a completed midterm paper that’s due in a couple of days. His eyes sink closed, and he starts to drift off, only waking when his hand slips from his cheek, knocking his glasses askew. An old sitcom plays in the background, the canned laughter providing a break in the silence every five seconds. He sighs for the billionth time that evening, struggling to find motivation to even think at this point.

His phone dings, and he happily divulges the distraction, his brows furrowing as he reads a direct message from a user called honeyhi. He’s used to getting comments on his post, with the occasional direct message (which he usually deletes instantly because of poor past experiences), and now, he usually doesn’t think much of them. He isn’t doing it to gain anything from anyone. He just wants to put his thoughts out there, and it’s just an added bonus to get validation from beautiful people.

She doesn’t have a profile picture, not uncommon on that corner of the web, especially since his posts aren’t a lot of people’s taste. He wouldn’t usually indulge in them, deleting them usually instantly, but something compels him to open her message.

Not to be too forward, but I had the best orgasm of my life, listening to your audios. I’ve listened to your audios for a long time, and honestly, listening to you has become the highlight of my evenings ;)

Honey, you have no idea what that means to me.

Truly, his heart swells at her sweet words. It’s nice to get complimented on something you put so much effort into. He bares himself for strangers, expressing such an intimate part of himself for their shared pleasure, and it feels reassuring to get compliments.

I mean it. Also, Tango in the Night is arguably one of Fleetwood Mac’s best albums. Definitely top three.

Most people assume it’s a sex thing.

I wonder why.

He laughs a little at the dry comment.

So, what are the other two in your top three albums?

Pre or post Stevie Nicks?

Post, of course. What kind of question is that?

That was a test. You passed. I think we’ll get along just fine, Tango.

I think so, too, Honey.

—

Y/N rushes past the postman, nearly toppling over when her bag shifts slightly on her arm, her thick binders peek out of the top and dig into her arm. Her hand furiously slaps the elevator button, and she stands impatiently, her dangling keys shaking at her hip. The doors tremble as the weight teeters down to the main floor, far too slowly in her opinion. For a moment, she considers just running up the three flights of stairs to her floor, but that feels a little too eager.

She and Tango have their weekly phone call tonight, and her classes ran long today; that coupled with the stand-still traffic made her more anxious than usual to get home. She always calls first, since her schedule is the most complicated, and she’ll feel absolutely awful if she was late for their call. She feels silly getting worked up over such a small thing, but their friendship progressed beyond the occasional messages in the past month, and she honestly looks forward to their weekly talks. Tango is such a beautiful and humble person, and he is such a stable place of comfort. She knows that he will be understanding and have an independent, secondary perspective on any situation.

He is someone she can rely on for just about anything.

The bell dings above her, and the elevator doors finally part. After barreling inside, she sinks against the railing, glancing at the time, which is still just before her usual calling time. She sighs sharply when the doors begin to close, relief tugging on her shoulders.

However, a hand pushes through the lift’s doors before they can shut, and she bites back an irritated groan; she probably could have made it to her apartment by now if she had ran up the stairs. The man slides in and gives her a grateful nod, accompanied by a small smile. Much to her delight, he presses the ‘close door’ button quickly, and they’re met with no interruptions this time. It’s a quiet ride, despite her nervous feet tapping, and he taps away on his phone,

She admires him out of the corner of her eye, forgetting momentarily about her anxiety. Half of his hair is pulled back in a small bun, exposing the darker locks underneath, and a bandana pushes back the frizzy flyaways that would normally frame his face. The thick strands curl slightly at the ends; there’s one tight coil that she wants to tug on. She could easily become enamored with him, with his pretty green eyes and day-old stubble. His bag has H.E.S embroidered on the bottom corner. A coral colored, gem necklace rests beautifully on his tanned chest, which is mostly covered by a near see-through white top, covered with a baggy, gingham jumper.

After living in the building for two years, they have run into one another on several occasions but have never really spoken. He lives on the second floor, and he goes to the university as well.

When he leaves, after offering another nod and quick smile, she calls Tango. He answers after the second ring.

“Hey, sweets,” he grumbles, not as chipper as his usual self. Her heart sinks a little. He had his midterms last week, and she can only assume that the results are not what he had hoped.

“Oh, no,” she says. “What happened?”

“‘S nothin’,” he insists, but she can hear the irritation in his voice. “‘M jus’ getting myself worked up over nothin’. How was your day?”

Clearly not wanting to talk, he changes the subject, which is something Y/N has grown used to over the past few months. He doesn’t like to vent when he’s too upset because he’s afraid of lashing out and taking his aggression out on her. Thankfully, she has also learned how to distract him. Usually, his annoyance melts away within minutes, and he is his usual, bubbly self again.

“Well, let me tell you, I nearly killed the postman today, and someone nearly hit my car today.”

“What?” He asks incredulously. “Please, elaborate.”

And so, she does.

A couple hours later, Y/N’s in her kitchen, making avocado and tomato toast for the fifth time this week. Her roommate is gone for the weekend, thankfully, which means she can get more stuff done without interruptions (and she can talk to Tango for as long as she wants without getting interrogated about it). His mood had improved significantly after she was able to make him laugh at her own expense (he especially liked the story about how she grabbed her iced coffee too quickly this morning and spilled it all over the barista’s hand).

“I have a question,” he says quickly, as if he wouldn’t have the courage to ask if he held onto it for a moment longer.

“Okay,” she says slowly, almost fearful at the sudden change of tone in his voice.

“Would you be able to listen to something I recorded the other day?” He giggles nervously. “I dunno. I just feel a little,” he makes a little noise, “off about it.”

Stunned, she stares at her phone, the seconds ticking by before her very eyes, and despite the fact that the only reason why they know each other is because she listened to his audios, she’s a little taken aback by the question. Before she knows it, too much time has passed for her to brush off as anything but bewilderment. She stutters.

“I—uh—sure?”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“No, I am.” Stubborn and not willing to back down, she digs herself a deeper hole, despite the odd feeling growing in her stomach. “Yes, I will listen to it for you.”

“Okay, then,” he says breathlessly. “I’ll send it to you.”

Neither know what to say now. Conversation usually came easy to them, so it feels so strange to be stuck in such an uncomfortable silence. Now, she’s gone and ruined everything because of her hesitation. Why did she even hesitate? There’s no reason to be embarrassed. They’re both very open, sexual people, and it’s nothing to get so worked up over. Maybe, it’s the fact that it’s him, and she knows him so well now. Compared to before, when he was just some stranger on the internet, she knows his likes, dislikes; hell, she has even spoken to his cat, and it feels wrong because he is her friend, and that’s not what friends are supposed to do.

“It’s not weird. Is it?” He asks shyly.

“Of course not.” She says it a little too quickly. Admittedly, it feels a little weird, now that she thinks about it. It would be like walking in on your friend having sex. Then again, the only reason why they really know each other is because she listened to his audios (which is basically him jerking off to his dirty thoughts). However, it’s not an aspect they spoke about too often, usually after a couple of drinks. Their friendship, despite how it began, is purely innocent. They were each other’s comfort person; they were there to vent, laugh, and talk with. Neither ever hinted toward anything different, other than the occasional, playful flirting.

“No, I’ll listen to it for you. What are friends for?”

She doesn’t know why her heart is beating so fast.

“Thank you,” he says.

“So,” she says, “do you want me to listen to it now?”

“Eager, are we?” He hums teasingly.

“Shut up,” she scoffs.

“I mean, if you wanted to hear some dirty talk, all you had to do was ask.”

“Please, stop talking.”

“Y’know I’m always down to clown.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

True to her words, she doesn’t wait for him to answer before she ends the call.

Her phone dings a second later with the link along with another cheeky message. The link is to a private web upload platform, and she feels special for a moment. She wonders if she should just listen to it while eating her toast and go about her usual routine, or if she should do what she usually does when listening to his audios. Is that what he would want, though? Would it make him feel uncomfortable? Is it more weird to just listen to him moan in her ear while doing mundane tasks around the house?

Granted, they have had some conversations about sex and the like, but this feels so much more intimate, especially because he knows that she’s going to listen to him jerk off, not to even mention the obscene things that come from his mouth.

What does it mean for their friendship? Perhaps, it’s not even meant to mean anything, just a sincere favor asked between two friends. Maybe, it’s meant to be a step toward something more on his part. Is that even what she wants?

She brushes off that thought quickly, as she has for months, because deep down, she knows it would just end up in disappointment.

Oh, what a mess.

She’s headed on a downward spiral that has no chance of stopping unless it’s hit by a freight train to hell.

She opts to forgetting her toast and slips into her bedroom, falling onto her blankets giddily. She presses play on the audio, her heart racing as it loads, and leaves her phone face down next to her ear, eyes closing to fully immerse herself, trying to ignore her anxiety.

“Hello,” he says slowly, almost shyly, and it feels like one of their late nights again, with him talking through her phone and her cuddled in bed, listening eagerly. “I’ve just gotten home, but I’ve been thinkin’ about this all day. Couldn’t go to sleep before gettin’ it out there, y’know.” He giggles, a pretty little noise she’s heard many times now. He laughs a lot, sometimes at himself, but mostly in response to her. He even laughs at her corny, little puns, which she appreciated.

“And ‘m really hard right now, so that doesn’t help either. I haven’t really been able to come in the past two weeks. Been too busy with… life, I guess. But a friend of mine talked to me about the world of BDSM. She’s a kinky little shit.”

Y/N’s heart lurches, stomach twisting with an unrecognizable feeling, knowing that the certain friend he is talking about is her. She remembers the conversation well, even though she was a little tipsy and very high, mostly because it was also the first time they had actually spoken on the phone, and it began as it normally does, about mundane things that happened that week. Somehow, the conversation shifted to kinks, and she told him that she wouldn’t be opposed to more sinful acts in the bedroom, most of which her previous partners had not indulged.

“I’m pretty vanilla, I guess. I just love to love people. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. I’ve never really been into that sort of thing, but now, I can’t stop thinking about it, and I’ve been kinda into some dark, dom stuff lately,” he admits slowly. “Dark for me, at least, which, again, doesn’t say much.” There’s another laugh, radiant and delicate.

“I dunno why, but I’ve been fantasizing about taking you into our room. A little lackluster, I know, but I’m not into the dark, dingy places, like those sex dungeons they have in the movies, where there’s lots of leather, red lights, music, quite the ambience.” He stops suddenly, and she could imagine his lips pursing to cease his ramblings. She wishes he wouldn’t do that so much; she wishes that he wouldn’t doubt himself and his beautiful way with words. If only he could be as confident in himself as she is in him.

“I just want to lay you down on our bed with our fluffy blankets pushed off to the side. Then, if either of us need to take a moment or stop, we can.” Her heart swells a little at his words. Even though he’s trying to talk about, in his words, “dark, dom stuff”, he is still so sweet and considerate, and she can’t help but soften. He trails off.

Faintly, she can hear him yank his belt from the loops, and it’s, honestly, one of the hottest things she has ever heard; the teasing glimpse of what could come far more erotic than anything any of her other partners could do. She could only imagine what it would feel like to have him in front of her, shirtless with his pants low on his hips; maybe he would be wearing the same floral pants he is in his profile picture, the ones that are unbelievably tight. She would be splayed on the bed, just observing this beauty of a man, waiting patiently for him to come and ravish her.

She’s sure that his tattoos cover more than just his arms, but how many more is a question that haunts her. The thought of a big tattoo on his thigh that she can grind on while he moans about how much of a good girl she is has led to many obscene dreams. She imagines black images carved into his chest, perhaps a trail of floating rose petals from his collar bone to his peck or a hellish looking snake wrapped around his waist. More vividly, she envisions a bold tattoo just beneath his belly button, one that she would scratch at while he violently pounded into her, one that she would kiss and lick before she would take him in her mouth.

Oh, what she would do to be able to feel his skin on hers.

She dips her hand beneath the band of her shorts out of habit, toying with the silky material of her panties. She tries not to think too much about her feelings, fearing it would deepen the ache in her heart.

“Anyway, you’d be on the bed,” he says, his usual slow, stifling voice pulling her deeper into the fantasy, “naked, on your knees with your pretty pussy facing me. You’re all tied up, starting at your wrists and ankles, and there would be a pretty knot down your spine that I can grab while I fuck you from behind.”

Her cunt throbs at the sudden turn. She could only imagine: her face pressed into the pillows, choking on the sheets, her muscles tight, aching beneath the restraints, and her voice raw, sobbing from overstimulation. Exhausted and wanton, she would take anything that he would be willing to give her. He would shove her face into the mattress, mounting her, and he would tug on the rope until it felt like it would permanently embedded in her wet skin, telling her how much of a good little slut she is, taking him so well.

She doesn't know why she’s drawn to rope play; perhaps, it’s all a part of the subtle nuances of the sex, the intimacy of tying the complex binds around your partner and the intricacies of sensory manipulation with such overwhelming stimulation. It’s so much more than just being bound while fucking. There is such a deep reliance on the other person to understand your body, your limits, your needs. It’s about trust and vulnerability. She thinks of it in such a melodic and romantic way; it must have resonated with Tango.

“Or I’d tie your arms to your legs, keeping you spread open for me on your back, with knots around your belly, the lead falling between your tits.” Her eyes flutter closed. While rope play is something that she has always wanted to try but never felt comfortable enough with another person to act on it. He would be different though. She cups her pussy, languidly running her fingers through her wet folds, feeling the arousal slip down her skin before settling on her sheets.

She pinches her clit, and her legs immediately jerk around her arm. Feeling far too sensitive for that type of stimulation, she simply strokes through her lips, focusing her ministrations on the delicate inside, close to her sopping entrance, enjoying the slow build.

“Then, I could hold onto your neck while I fuck you, and I like being able to see your face, to see how good I’m making you feel, to see tears of pleasure run down your pretty face. You could suck on my fingers while I fuck you, deep and hard. D’ya wanna choke on my fingers, pretty?”

She wants absolutely nothing more. She would gladly suck on his fingers if it meant that she could see the look of awe in his eyes, lust darkening his features when she bites teasingly on his nail.

“But if you’re on your knees, I could watch you in the mirror and still see your face. From behind, I can see your pretty, tight pussy take my cock.” He whimpers. “I haven’t decided which I would rather have.”

She can’t decide, either.

Then again, they could always have both.

“Of course, I wouldn’t give you my cock that easily. No, you’re going to be crying for me, begging for me to fuck you, and I dunno if I would fuck you right away or make you beg for it. I think for the first bit, after you’re all tied up for me, I’ll tease you, just barely touching you, pulling on the lead, the ropes tightening around your aching body. I think your tits would look so pretty all tied up f’me, babylove.

“When you’ve finally had enough, crying for me to stuff you full of my cock, I’d let you come, but I’d only use my fingers, never giving you what you really want. Maybe I’ll put a little vibrator on your clit and leave you there, having you come again and again until it hurts. I’d have you keep your panties on, of course. Don’t want you making a mess of the sheets, and then, when I finally give you my cock, I’ll put them in your mouth to keep you quiet, and so you can taste yourself.”

His moans are in the forefront in his sensual song, mixed amongst a symphony of bed and friction sounds. She matches his pace, flicking her wrist in time with the sound of him working his wet cock. She massages the entirety of her pussy, messily rubbing her fingers from the tip of her poor, swollen clit to her throbbing opening.

“Fuck, babylove, you’d be so good f’me, taking my cock so deep in your pussy. Would you cry f’me, pretty? Cry for daddy to fuck you into the mattress.” A rumbling groan finally breaks free, and she is so close to falling apart, her high festering into her muscles, burning through her nerves; her skin feels hot to the touch. She struggles to breathe, but she doesn't yearn for air as much as she does her end. Tears in her eyes, she clutches onto her blanket, tugging it in her mouth to keep from crying too loudly. She sobs, feeling a familiar tightness in her body, just beyond her grasp. Her hand still moves over her pussy, arousal seeping through trembling fingers, but she can’t reach her peak with such light, varied stimulation, her hips buckling.

“My pretty rope bunny,” he mutters. He’s desperate, truly just rambling on and on about anything that comes to mind. “My pretty honey,” he whimpers, almost inaudibly, “honey, honey.”

For a second, she thinks of the times that word has passed through his lips in less sinful situations, a slow, lulling honey when he’s trying to get her attention, sweet and innocent. That’s his special name for her, and she wonders if, possibly, he thinks about her in the same way she does, if he wishes to be with her in such an intimate way, just as she does. She thinks, incredulously, that maybe she isn’t overanalyzing the situation.

His bed squeaks faintly in the background, just barely heard over his withering voice. She can only begin to imagine what he looks like in that moment, legs tense, feet digging into the mattress, his hips thrusting to fuck himself into his fist. The head of his cock would peek through the top of his fist as he coerced his release free. She wishes she could see what he looks like when he comes, when he finally reaches his most euphoric moment. It’s such a primal thing to witness, to see someone liberated of all inhibitions, to observe them completely succumbing to their instincts. It’s such a beautiful thing to see someone acquiesce control and thrive so harmoniously with their body.

“I wanna wrap my belt around your throat.” He swallows thickly. She whines along with him. Perhaps, she’s just fooling herself, but she can swear that she could almost hear the sound of a leather belt squeezing in his fist. A pitiful pool of wetness slips between her ass cheeks.

“My cock hurts just thinking about how you’d sound.” He moans, mimicking the desperate heaves that would undoubtedly slip through her lips as he pulls his belt tightly around her throat. “Then, when you’re bratty, I can just wrap my hand around the belt and make it tighter.

“Please,” he mocks weakly, “please, sir, I’ll be good. But you’re just saying that to get what you want. You’re just a naughty, little slut aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she returns weakly.

“Maybe, I could get you a collar and pull you around with that. Would you like that?” He hums. “Of course, you would. You’re my pretty, little bunny.”

In any other instance, she would feel humiliated to be so aroused at being so weak and submissive to another, but he could convince her to do anything at this point. She’s close, toes curling and muscles tightening, and she waits for his familiar profession that he is also near the edge, but the silence that follows is deafening, a disappointing resolution to an intense narrative. It makes her stop completely, wet hand flipping her phone over to see that, indeed, she had listened to all of the audio. It knocks the air from her lungs when she realizes that that was it. She isn’t going to hear his cute little whimpers as he comes nor his sweet aftercare.

Frustrated from her ruined orgasm, she calls him instantly, and he picks up after the fourth ring this time, as if he knows that she is this needy and frustrated. She doesn’t give him the chance to greet her.

“That couldn’t have been all of it.”

“Well, hello to you, too—”

“I didn’t get to hear you come.”

“Is that what you wanna hear, honey?”

“Well, yeah, I always come with—” She stops before she says something she’ll regret, but by the sound of his laughter, it’s already too late. She wants to hide away in embarrassment.

“It’s only partially finished. I thought I told you that.” She can hear the teasing smirk he surely has plastered on his face, the cheeky bastard. “I just wanted to hear what you thought so far before I finished it. There’s no point in finishing something that I already feel isn’t worth the time.”

“Well, then,” she stutters quickly, “How does it end?”

“How do you think it should end?”

There’s a certainty in his words, as if he has already accepted her as a lover, and she knows that he is giving her the opportunity to initiate the next step. Fear squeezes her chest, and for a second, she worries that she isn’t brave enough to follow through. Every fiber of her being is pleading with her to just take that risk, but another, more rational side of her, is saying it’s better to say a quick I don’t know, and they would move on as normal.

“Where would you come?”

Oh, it feels so filthy to ask that, but it’s so relieving to hear the hum of approval that passes through his lips.

Her heart races, not like before; this is exciting and new and arousing, and it feels wrong. She doesn’t even know what he looks like; hell, she doesn’t even know his real name, and she’s so fucking ready and willing to give herself to him. There’s just so many reasons to not pursue him. She feels ashamed, almost, that she is weak for a man she knows nothing about.

“Hmm, that’s a good question. Where would you like me to come?”

But how can she not get weak when he asks her things like that?

Shivers bloom on her skin in sunflower blossoms. She knows what he wants to hear, and usually, she would tease him, telling him that he didn’t care if he even came or not, but the throbbing between her legs is relentless, and she’s just lust-drunk that she’ll say just about anything to get what she needs. She begins rubbing herself again, focusing solely on her clit this time instead of the entirety of her pussy in the palm of her hand. Breathing out shakily, she answers honestly.

“Everywhere.”

He moans, and she knows that was the right answer.

“Everywhere? Such a greedy girl. You want me to come down your throat? You wanna taste it? Maybe, I’ll have you choke on my cock, fuck y’face until you’re crying.”

After he was done fucking her, she’s sure that he would yank her up either by the rope around her breasts or by the belt around her neck (she can’t decide which yet) and put his cock by her mouth, rubbing himself over her lips and chin, but never quite pushing past the barrier of her lips; no, she would be the one to open her sweet mouth for him, her jaw lax and tongue wet as she takes everything he’d give her.

God, yes, she wants to taste him. She wants him to use her in every possible, degrading way: to use her mouth while she tied up, under his mercy, to fuck her face until she has tears dripping down her cheeks, wetting her heaving chest, to come down her throat until she’s choking on him, but he would pinch her nose and make her taste it until her vision was blurry.

“You’d take it all, babylove. Won’t you?”

He asks so innocently, his deep voice having a soft twinge, but she knows that it’s not optional, not that she would choose otherwise. She would greedily lap at his cum and drink it all, proudly showing off her empty mouth when she’s done. Maybe, he would insist that she keep it in her mouth and pull her into a wet, heated kiss, prying her lips apart so he can taste himself on her tongue.

“I could make a mess on your belly or your tits, and then, I could lick you clean. Or I could mark up your thighs and watch it drip onto the sheets.”

The thought of him marking her with his come is nearly enough for her to reach her peak. A voice in the back of her head chastises her for being so greedy; this is something she has fantasized about since they started talking, and it’s going to be over before it can even begin at this rate. She needs to distract herself, to focus on anything other than the painful throbbing between her legs.

“Or I could come inside you.”

That’s the last thing she needed to hear.

Only because it makes a thick bead of arousal seep into her sheets. It makes her finally give in and sink two fingers inside herself, and fuck, she’s so wet and swollen and pliable. She sobs, truly biting back even louder cries behind gritted teeth. She curses again and again at the feeling coursing through her veins, heat spreading in her belly as her hips frantically move against her ministrations.

“By the sound of that moan, I think that’s definitely preferred. Such a filthy girl. Y’want me to fill your belly? Want me to mark you as mine?”

She just knows that he could fill her to the brim, but he would want to prolong the experience as much as possible, teasing her with his cock and coaxing her to beg for his cum.

She could just imagine the determined look in his eyes, so close to coming, but he would pull out, just barely teasing her trembling entrance with his twitching cock. He wouldn’t move, and when she would beg for him to put it back in and just fuck her until she couldn’t breath, he would say very simply: if y’want my cum so bad, put my cock back inside.

God, his face would be gleaming with this power, satisfied with seeing her so needy for his cum. Shamefully, she would put one of her hands on his hip while the other grasps his cock, pushing on him until he sinks entirely inside her once again, but he still wouldn’t move, simply filling her, the both of them twitching with arousal. He would demand that she make him come if she wants it so bad, as if it's a gift from the heavens.

“Are you touching yourself?” He asks, and only then does she realize that she was drowning in her fantasy; the sudden change makes her stop rubbing herself, her vision hazy. She parts her lips with wet fingers, slipping back down to her entrance, gently prodding inside until that euphoria builds once again.

“Yes,” she admits shamefully. “‘M so fucking wet for you.”

“Dirty little slut,” he says sharply. He has no room to judge, especially since she can hear the all-too-familiar sounds to him jerking his cock, wet sounds of his fist passing over the thick head echoing in her empty room. She is near tears at this point, so needy and high and horny, but she wants to make this last.

“Would you let me come? Please, can I come?”

It’s his turn to moan with approval, and she feels proud. His heavy breathing in time with hers, he seems to be lost in pleasure, voice hitching as he struggles to find words. Her orgasm swells to a near crest once again, but she wants to hear him finish. At this point, she knows what it sounds like, from the frantic ramblings to the guttural moans, and he’s not quite there yet.

“Do you think you deserve to come, honey? You think you’ve been a good girl f’me?”

“Yes, I’m a good girl—fuck—please, please, I need to come.” She stumbles through her words, what little power she held in her withering grasp deflating instantly from his words.

“I dunno, I think you’re a brat who just wants to get off.”

It’s painful how much his words impact her, volatile muscles spasming while she staves of hee end. She whimpers, sinking further in her headspace; she feels a cloud settle in her vision (or perhaps those are tears), overwhelming yet freeing.

“No, I’m your good girl,” she insists.

“I think you’ll have to prove it to me, honey,” he replies slyly. “I don’t think I’ll let you come quickly. I want you to beg for it. Can you do that f’me, babylove? Beg me to come.”

“Fuck, I’m so close,” she says. “Please, please, I need it. Please, let me come.”

“You can do better than that,” he says, voice cracking. Their harmonious sounds of excitement drive both of them closer to their orgasms.

“Oh, god—please, I—fuck—I need it so bad. ‘M so close, please.” She can barely speak coherently. Chills wrack her sore body, waves of throbbing pleasure threatening to break her. She wanted—no, needed—him to finish.

“Come f’me, Honey,” he says. “You’re my good girl, so good f’me. C’mon, babylove, come with me.”

She does. With ears ringing and eyes closing, she comes until her pussy aches. It feels never ending, euphoria consuming every part of her sweat-laden flesh, chilling and fiery, for hours—or perhaps only seconds. She can’t tell.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her vision blurry. Her body trembles with residual aftershocks of her intense orgasm. She lays spread open on her bed, her pussy still too sensitive to close her legs entirely.

“Thank you for letting me come.” In her daze, her limbs fall away limply. All she can do is exist at this moment. She vaguely wonders if he finished with her, the thought of his deep moans fueling another fire. A part of her is disappointed that she wasn't present enough to listen to him, but another part knows that more opportunities will come.

“You’re so welcome, honey,” he says sweetly. “I think we both really needed that today.”

She hums, still recovering from such a powerful end. She slowly regains her breathing.

“I guess I should be thanking you because that’s one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had,” he says. She laughs.

“You flatter me.”

“I’m serious. Nearly gave myself a pearl necklace.”

And just like that, everything continues as normal. Both know that the other is naked and satiated, but neither feels uncomfortable with the fact. If anything, it makes things relieved, open, or comfortable. They’re both giggly in the golden after-glow.

“What does this mean for us, Honey?”

As, yes, the dreaded ‘talk’. Fear immediately spikes in her veins, and she struggles to find her words. Before she can answer, he begins speaking again.

“Look, I really like talking with you, and I don’t want this to make things weird, but I meant what I said earlier. That was probably one of the best orgasms of my life, and I don’t think that I could live without your pretty little moans now that I’ve heard them. Maybe, we can do that again. We don’t have to put a label on it or anything, if you don’t want to.”

Her heart sinks. Is that all that he wants?

“Right, it doesn’t have to be anything serious, just us having some stress relief.” Her words are dry and forced, feeling like bile in her mouth. She grits her teeth. What the hell had she just gotten herself into?

“Hey, uh, it’s late, and I have to wake up early tomorrow. Same time next week?”

She hopes that he doesn’t think that she regrets what they did, and she hopes he doesn’t think too much into her abrupt ending of the call. It’s not a total lie; she does have work early tomorrow morning, but she has had more than a few days where she was running on two hours of sleep and a miracle. She just wants to get off the phone before he hears the contemplation in her voice.

“You think I can wait a week after that? You have too much faith in me.”

“I think you’ll survive, babe,” she says.

“Good night, babylove.”

“Good night.”

She falls asleep quickly after, dreaming of the nameless, faceless man who she bares her soul to.

Later that night, as Harry edits the finally finished audio, he thinks back to Honey and their mutual pleasure, feeling like an absolute idiot for saying that it was nothing serious. He wasn’t expecting her to agree so emphatically, so quickly.

Although, what had he expected? He was the one who suggested it. No matter, he can’t have a relationship right now, especially a long distance one. He would just end up getting hurt, but he likes her too much to stop talking to her completely. He finally took their relationship further even if it won’t lead to anything more.

—

“Are you ready to admit defeat?”

Y/N lets out a breathy laugh, despite her current situation, her hand rubbing leisure circles on her already sensitive clit, which still throbs from her first orgasm of the night. Tango murmurs praise in her humming ears.

She’s not really sure what they are, and she doesn’t want to think about it. It would only complicate things more.

Friends? Definitely.

Well, maybe not definitely, since she doesn’t even know his name, but what other word could she use to define their relationship? What sort of friends would say such filthy things to each other? Why would he call her ‘my honey’ so emphatically if they were ‘just friends’? Too afraid of misinterpreting his intentions and embarrassing herself, she doesn’t mention anything, and he never does either, but it keeps her awake at night, wondering what they could be if she could just put her feelings to words.

This would be the second hour of their phone call, and it only took them ten minutes for the conversation to turn into one of their “stress relieving sessions”. Both of them had a terrible day; she was late for the first day at her new job (they were understanding given the circumstances, but it still left a sour taste in her mouth), and he slept through an exam. She eased him into a submissive headspace quickly, babbling about what a good boy he is and how proud she is of him. Within minutes, he came, and she whispered all the filthy things she wanted to do to him until he was completely spent, his cock milked of all remnants of his seed, twitching and throbbing with empty orgasms.

He easily fell into the dominant headspace after his quick high, and he was adamant that he could make her come more than any of her other partners, even without him truly there. She knows that he can; hell, she has touched herself to his voice more times than she could count, but she likes teasing him, hearing him get all riled up and stubborn.

“Are you gonna come again, honey?”

“Nope,” she breathes, “Not even a little close.”

“You’re obviously lying or not trying,” he says sharply, and a sense of pride swells in her chest at her ability to get a rise out of him without even trying. She smirks.

“What are you gonna do? Punish me?”

“I might have to.”

She’s sure he would, too, but it would be in the most pleasurable way possible, with his mouth and fingers and cock stimulating her until she comes so many times she can’t take anymore. Her fingers trace her most intimate area, nails scraping against her quivering core. She sinks two fingers inside, feeling her sopping pussy swallow them easily, adjusting quickly and craving more. She tries to find that sweet, spongy spot inside her, but she can’t seem to reach it.

“Wish it was your fingers,” she mumbles, her movements certain and even, but it’s never enough for her greedy body.

“Yeah, lovie?” He croons, “they’d be so big in your tight little pussy.” She hums, wishing that he was there to stuff her in every way possible.

“Would you wear your rings?”

“For you? Of course.” Her eyes roll back at the thought; his thick fingers could tear her at the seams, and with the added texture of his rings, she would be coming within seconds. Her clit throbs, blood rushing in time with her racing heart, and she massages it harder, wanton and waiting for yet another release. “C’mon, babylove, Come for me. Make me proud,” he coaxes. His words make her fall over that edge once more, thighs shaking and pussy weeping. She’s sure there’s a creamy stain beneath her, seeping into her wet skin.

“Again,” he demands. She thinks she may break. “Keep going, babylove. Where’s that toy you told me about?”

He knows that she won’t be able to come much longer on her own, with the pain overwhelming the pleasure.

“It’s so far away,” she whines.

“Go grab it, love,”

Her legs tremble as she twists around, reaching blindly into her bedside drawer. She can’t close her legs too much without getting overstimulated; her legs ache and twitch. Once the toy is situated just above her clit, she ticks it on. Her body reacts immediately, limbs jolting about, hips ducking away, and her voice catching. Gasping, she almost wants to take the toy away, the stimulation being far too much.

He thinks differently.

“Turn it up higher, lovie,” he says so sweetly. Her chest feels like it could almost collapse into itself. Still dizzy from her orgasm, she’s not sure if she can take it, her body fighting against her. She wants to beg and plead for something, but she doesn’t even know what for. Is it for yet another orgasm that will surely be more powerful that any other? Or is it for the burning at every nerve ending to stop?

“I dunno—”

“You can take it, such a good little bunny for me.”

The vibrator ticks to the next setting, a sharp, persistent sound echoes in her empty room, followed by an even louder shout. She has not control anymore. Thankfully, she’s home alone or else it would be an awkward morning with her roommate listening to her cries of pleasure well into the night. Her hand shakes, but she presses the head of the toy harder to her clit. She lets out a guttural groan, feeling euphoria seep from every pore.

“There it is,” he moans, breathing growing ragged. He’s surely jerking himself off, basking in the pleasure with her, and it makes her arousal burn deeper. She wants to put on a show for him, to egg him on and make him feel as good as he makes her feel.

“There’s my pretty girl. Let me hear you, baby.”

She can barely squeeze out a few breathless whimpers from her chest, hedonistic—no, animalistic—sobs crash through her. Pain and pleasure fight for control, just as her mind and body do.

“Feel good?”

“Yes,” she says weakly. “Feels so good.”

She comes quickly with a silent cry, her lips parted and face scrunched. Saliva slips from her open mouth, and she is unable to wipe it away, lewdly dripping down her chin to her neck before finding it’s place on her dirtied sjeets. The recovery period is quicker this time; it’s either that or her body is becoming numb to anything but pleasure. It feels like it’s never ending with the vibrator still nestled tightly to her puffy cilt. Her lips are surely swollen now too, tender from too many orgasms, yet still sopping with arousal.

“Don’t take it away,” he says, “You got another one in ya. You can do it, lovie.”

His voice is muffled beneath blankets where her phone lies, lost in her ravenous bouts of pleasure, limbs writhing and tossing. Her body aches when she twists to put it back up by her ear to hear him more clearly, muscles tight from her previous orgasms. Legs closing slightly, she whines when the toy presses harder against her clit, hips ducking away from the strong vibrations, eyes fluttering closed. Her phone falls out of her grasp once more, but the light illuminates the dark room, casting a warm glow.

“Please—”

She’s not really sure what she’s begging for; it just slips out, a weak plea. Perhaps, she just wants him to be there instead of on the other end of a phone call, in some faraway place she doesn’t even know. The room would feel so much warmer with him here, her back pressed to his chest, their sweat mingling. Maybe he would wear those pretty lace stockings he showed her a picture of once, the glittery fabric coarse against her skin as he teases his toes along her leg, keeping them spread. His freckled and inked arms wrapped tightly around her middle, paying special attention to her tummy, he would whisper sweet things in her ear and press on the area right below her belly button, telling her of how he wants to grind his pretty cock against her soft middle until she is sticky with his precum, how he can fuck himself that deep inside her. She would feel him for days after.

“I know it hurts, baby, but just one more, then you can go to bed.”

It sounds so nice, the thought of sinking into her pillows for a good night's rest, but an orgasm sounds even better, one leaving her spent and satiated and sleepy.

“Such a good girl f’me.”

As much as she wants to, the sensitivity becoming nearly unbearable, she can’t stop; she wants to make him proud, to prove to him that she’s his good girl who can take it. Even though he’s not truly there with her to hold her and make sure she comes, she still wants to do as he says. Her legs tremble, threatening to close.

She squeaks when the vibrator hits a particularly sensitive angle on her clit, and she bites into her pillow to keep from crying out. Her hips work desperately, to reach that high for the last time, just one more, like an addict itching for one more hit. It’s her fourth orgasm within ten minutes, and this might just be her breaking point.

“I dunno if I can.” Her words slur, and she can feel spit dripping down her puckered lips. She suddenly wishes he was there to wipe it away, thumb soft and subtle against her skin, lingering on her puffy lips.

“One more, babylove,” he insists. “Just one more. You’re doing so well.” She bites back a mangled cry, eyes squeezing shut, her thoughts lost in a dark chaos. His voice is the only anchor amidst a dizzying high, coaxing her through her stupor with sweet words.

“My pretty girl, my good fucking girl, taking it so well.” His gravelly voice pulls her from drowning, his words gritty from his clenched jaw. “You’re not hurting too much, are ya?”

His deep voice is soft, lilting with a tender care she needs. She could simply melt, blanketed in the warmth of his rich voice.

“A little,” she admits, a dull ache in her belly when she clenches too tightly. “But it feels so good.”

The vibrations pulse through her body, leaving her voice shaky, and she shifts slightly, hips digging into the mattress. It settles on the underside of her clit, and it’s so close to that one spot, until finally—there, there, there—right there. She groans, low and guttural, drawn out from the depths of her chest, animalistic almost. Her body burns and trembles for a second before yet another strong, unrelenting wave drowns her. Every muscle in her body tenses as the head of the vibrator finds the one tender spot on her clit, catching at just the right angle that leaves her eyes teary, world dizzy. She knows it’ll be painful if she doesn’t pull away, a harsh orgasm building, but she can’t stop, not with him listening to her, waiting for her final bitter end.

She’s doing so good for him, such a good bunny. She trembles in the wake of such a violent euphoria, weak moans slipping in time with her belated breathing. It passes through in waves, the pain, a bittersweet burning welling deep inside her, but a different ache persists, one that leaves her yearning for more, one that makes her dig her feet into the mattress and press herself harder on the toy. Her toes curl, and her back arches, free hand twisting the sheets.

He hums appreciatively.

“My bunny likes it when it hurts. Doesn’t she?”

“Yes,” she sobs, “I want it to hurt.” Hips shuttering away from the relentless vibrator, Y/N feels her final orgasm build, pain lingering around the edges as her muscles twitch.

“Such a dirty little slut.” Her back arches at his filthy words, arousal pooling beneath her. She could feel it wetting her thighs. “Just f’me, right, honey? Just my pretty slut.”

She comes quickly, eyes rolling back as it overwhelms all of her senses. She feels tense yet relaxed. A broken cry breaks from her swollen lips as she shatters, falling apart for the final time. Her muscles quiver, tiny shocks lingering in the aftermath of so many orgasms in such quick succession. Her limbs ache. Her heart races. Her pussy throbs. She knows that this will be all she can take, her body completely spent. She can’t find the energy to keep her eyes open, and they roll back.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” she says, still struggling to find her breath and collect her thoughts, but when she does, a smile breaks her face. She feels everything and nothing all at once, so perfectly numb. She finds herself laughing incredulously because that cocky little bastard was right: he made her come more times than anyone has before. She laughs until tears slip down her warm cheeks.

This is the part where the emotions start to become just as overwhelming as her release. So much sinks in all at once, and she realizes just how alone she is, and she wishes he was here to pull her back down to earth, to hold and to love. She feels deflated. The sexual release is such a rush, but it brings devastating lows. With tears in her eyes, she struggles not to cave into herself.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she lies, a sob curling in her lungs, forcing its way out in a blubbering mess. Once the first one escapes, the rest follow easily. She can’t seem to stop, heaving cries wracking her already sore body as she clutches onto her pillow. She fists her phone to her ear in an attempt to be closer to him, but that makes the feeling grow worse, settling to a black hole in her stomach, sucking all euphoria from her. Tears soak into her skin and sink into her ear, muffling his comforting words.

“Let it out, babylove,” he says softly. “I know, I know. I know. Sometimes it can just get really overwhelming.” His words are gentle, just as he is, and maybe that’s what makes this even worse. He is everything she wants. He is just so perfect for her in every way, but he is ao far from her reach. Maybe it would be better if he wasn’t such a good person. Maybe that would make the yearning go away. She’s quiet, slowly breathing through stuttering sniffles.

“Hey,” he says softly, “Go pee and clean yourself up, babe. Know you don’t like feeling all wet down there. It makes your peach all sticky.”

She nods, knowing full well that he can’t see her, but doesn’t move. She honestly doesn’t think she can.

“Go on,” he murmurs when he doesn’t hear the familiar rustling of her sheets. “‘M right here, honey.”

A few more tears squeeze out of her eyes at his words. It makes her whole demeanor crumble once again; she’s upset because he’s not really there, he’s not there to hold her and kiss her and love her, and that’s not fair. She just wants to have him here to tell her that everything will be alright; she wants him to be there to laugh with, to just be with. He is such a good part of her life, but she just wishes that he could physically be there in the way she dreams.

She cleans up quickly, tossing her spent underwear into her dirty laundry. Just as she had suspected, the remnants of her orgasms stained her thighs.

What’s that ache in her chest?

“Good girl, feel better, lovie?”

She nods and whimpers, unable to calm her trembling lips.

“Good, ‘m right here, babylove. Y’did so good, so proud of you.”

She crawls back to bed moments later, shuddering breaths and swollen eyes being the only remnants of her breakdown. She sniffles and wipes her wet eyes with the back of her hand, which smells vaguely of her feminine wipes.

“Sorry, if it was too much,” he says.

“No, no need to apologize,” she says quickly to get rid of any lingering guilt he has. It felt amazing, to be tested just beyond her limits, to be pushed to a shattering breaking point, to trust him to know what she can take. “It was nice. I just sorta—” Her voice breaks. “I dunno. Everything just got a little overwhelming. I think I’m better now.”

“What do you need from me, honey?”

She nearly starts crying again at how sweet he is. She almost could imagine that only a few minutes ago he was calling her his dirty little slut and demanding her to come until she could handle it.

“Just talk to me,” she says.

“So, I saw a couple dogs today,” he begins awkwardly. “Well, I was attacked by two little frenchie’s when I was walking to class, and it completely made my day ten-times better. They were so cute with their chubby little legs.”

He rambles on about his week, and it feels nice and familiar.

She’s nearly asleep when he begins talking about his mother. Apparently, she was visiting him last week, which was nice for about a day; then, he began realizing why he moved away in the first place: she is so smothering.

“And my mum is always nagging me to go out and socialize. She was like,” he breathes in, adjusting his tone to a falsetto. “Harry, you’re never gonna be able to find anyone if you don’t…”

He continues as normal, chattering away in his low, sleepy voice. She doesn’t think he even realizes his slip up, words spluttering out of his mouth so quickly that even he probably couldn’t hear it. She smiles as sleep finally overwhelms her.

Harry.

His name is Harry.

—

#also if this is too niche and it flops lets just forget it happened #okay? okay.#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #ellie writes #ellie writes smut #ellie writes filth #gif not mine #credit to owner

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watchmegetobsessed · 5 months

Text

MISTLETOE

A/N: oh my god??? im actually posting something??? wow!!! okay joke aside lol its been ages since i last poste anything and im not saying im back, but i've been trying to write here and there so hopefully i will be back soon. until then, here is this little something i manage to finish last month!

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

SUMMARY: Everyone knows Harry is crushing on Y/N, but he hasn't made any major moves. Maybe tonight, when they find themselves under the mistletoe...

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“So Styles, are you gonna man up and ask her out finally, or be a baby?” Niall laughs, bumping his shoulder against Harry’s as they are approaching the pub they spend almost every Friday night at.

“Shut up,” he groans, but it’s impossible to miss the blush on his cheeks. Niall didn’t even drop a name, but they both knew who he was talking about.

It’s kind of an open secret that Harry has been very into Y/N. Well, all the boys know at least and they very much enjoy teasing him about it. Or maybe not about the crush, but about how long he’s been into her and he still hasn’t made any major moves. The past couple of weeks it’s been even more intense, because it seems like Y/N has been very much open towards Harry and his interest in her, but he’s been clearly waiting for him to make a move.

As the boys arrive at the pub it’s just as buzzing as always even despite the painfully cold weather that’s been keeping everyone on campus wrapped up in their warmest clothes. A few days ago it was even snowing for a bit, though there’s nothing left from the whiteness by now.

Harry sighs happily as the warmth of the crowd inside hugs him in an instant. The bunch that’s already there, including Y/N, is sitting in the back at a table they often sit by, it’s kind of their spot at this point.

He spots her in an instant and his cheeks warm up, but this time it’s not because of the temperature inside the pub. He saw her just the other day at lunch, but he can always feel his heart skipping a beat as if she was coming back from a months long trip.

“You’re being obvious,” Niall bumps his shoulder against his, grinning at his friend, but Harry just rolls his eyes again as they make their way over to the table.

With only two weeks until winter break the place is decorated, there are garlands running along the walls and pipes, ornaments hanging from the corners of the framed photos, there’s a tiny christmas tree on top of the bar and if you’re not paying attention you can end up standing underneath a mistletoe here and there as well.

“Hey! Thought you guys weren’t even gonna make it!” Jackie exclaims as she stands from the table, hugging the boys one by one. She is practically the person who brought the group together, everyone in the gang either had a lecture together with her, went to practice with her or shared a room with her. The latter is how Y/N got to meet the boys, including Harry. Though the two girls are not roommates anymore, they are still very close.

Just as Harry wraps his arms around Jackie his eyes meet Y/N’s over her shoulder and his ming blanks for a moment. With her shy smile, simple yet flattering outfit and vibrant aura she is definitely the one who steals the show, at least in Harry’s mind.

“Hi,” he breathes out when they are finally facing each other and she gifts him with the brightest smile as she lifts her arms to wrap them around his neck.

“Hi,” she giggles, her front pressing against his and he holds her just a bit tighter and longer than anyone else. Which she seemingly doesn’t mind.

Of course they end up sitting next to each other. It’s no surprise to anyone. Niall is sitting across Harry and every time Harry looks his way he gives him a nudging, teasing look that screams “come on, make a move” which Harry tries to ignore as much as possible, though Niall tends to be a bit much at times.

“What are your plans for the break?” Y/N asks him, the two of them have kind of tuned out of the conversation that’s happening around the table.

“Just going home, spending time with my family. My mum is very excited,” he chuckles softly. “What about you?”

“Pretty much the same,” she smiles. “I’m pretty sure my mum has already started cooking.”

They talk about family traditions, gifting and funny stories from past holidays, completely forgetting about the rest of the group for a while. When their glasses empty out they head over to the bar for a refill, sticking to each other’s side still.

When Y/N tries to pay for her drink Harry steps in, earning a knowing look from the bartender.

“What a gentleman,” he murmurs under his breath with a smirk, pushing the two beers towards them. Harry’s ears turn red, while Y/N just nods in agreement.

A guy hurries past them, pushing Y/N slightly against Harry whose hand moves to her waist out of instinct to steady her. The moment gets lost in the crowd to everyone else, but not to them. Harry’s whole body flames, the closeness of her feels exciting and calming at the same time and he doesn’t know, but she shares the same feeling.

“You alright?” he manages to ask her, their faces way closer than ever before. She peeks up at him with a short nod.

“Yeah, thanks.”

It feels like a moment that would be perfect to finally make a move. Harry knows and as he is looking at her he also knows that she wouldn’t reject him, yet he still can’t get himself to take that step and cross the line he’s been dancing on for so long.

The seconds pass by and the moment fades as well, disappointment bubbling in her gut as she moves back from him, his hand falling off her waist and he is already regretting being such a coward.

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself as Y/N starts to move ahead of him, back to the table and he follows her feeling like the biggest loser ever.

Why is he so afraid of making a move? She’s all he’s been thinking about, they get along so well and everyone’s been telling him she wants him too. But still, that awful voice in the back of his head keeps reminding him there’s a chance she rejects him and everything would be ruined after that.

Defeated, they join the rest of the table again and they both can feel a wall sitting right between them. Harry keeps replaying the moment in his head, he thinks of everything he could have done not to mess up his chance, wishing he could go back in time and man up finally.

Soon enough the group moves to the darts boards as Niall and Liam start a match, the rest enjoying the show because Niall is known to be quite competitive in any and all sports.

Harry is standing by Y/N again, but there’s tension between them obviously and his mind is racing to find a way to ease the situation. Should he ask her to talk? Pretend like nothing happened? Or what if he just swung an arm around her right now? What if–

“Oh! You two!” Niall snaps him out of his thoughts, pointing at him and Y/N. “You’re standing under the mistletoe!”

They look up at the same time, checking that he did not lie, there really is a mistletoe hanging above them. Their gazes meet and the moment is back. Y/N is looking at him with hope tinkering in her eyes and Harry knows he can’t mess it up this time, but he needs just a few seconds to build up the courage, this is a big step and he…

He is taking too long. He sees the moment when Y/N is letting go and panic sets in, screaming at him to do something and then… he finally does. Just when Y/N turns her face in defeat he gently cups her cheek, turning it back and she sucks on her breath before he finally presses his lips to hers.

A lot happens around them, there’s whistling and clapping and Niall shouts something but it all tunes out to Harry, she is all he can sense. Her arms are quick to snake around his neck and his hands find their way to her waist, pulling her tight into his embrace, hoping he never has to let go of her.

All his fantasies about what kissing her would feel like vanish and he swears it’s all he has ever known, the touch of her soft lips, the way her tongue swirls against his, the warmth of her body pressed against his.

Their mistletoe kiss stretches long and neither of them really wants to end it, but reality pushes its way back into their bubble and the noise pops it. Pulling apart they stare at each other for a while before Y/N’s lips slowly break into a smile that Harry feels like wants to own forever. He can’t bear the thought of anyone else being the reason she smiles this way.

“Harry Styles finally grew some balls!” Niall shouts, completely stomping over the moment they just shared as they turn back to face their friends, arms still around each other.

“A Christmas miracle!” Jackie joins in on the teasing.

“Okay, okay! I get it!” Harry groans, not quite enjoying being in the center of attention.

Y/N’s arms have moved to circle around his abdomen and she gently squeezes him, grabbing his attention. The moment he looks at her smiling face he forgets about everything that’s making him uncomfortable.

Leaning down he presses a short, lingering kiss to her lips, replacing every word he ever wanted to tell her and she understands it all, happy to be finally speaking the same language.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

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cupid-styles · 3 months

Text

a day in the life (ymls)

it's been awhile since I've posted anything about these cuties so here's a lil blurb!!!!! hope you enjoy :)

word count: 1.3k

content warnings: family stuff, y/n is no longer pregnant BUT there's discussions of her pregnancy, giving birth, and lactating/breastfeeding

ymls masterlist

main masterlist | talk to me

patreon

. . .

Y/N never asked Harry to live with her.

They never had a conversation about it, instead just deciding to go to her house after she and Clementine were released from the hospital because it would likely be easier to recover in her own space — all of her lactation gear was there, along with the three (3!) different pregnancy pillows Harry purchased for her throughout the duration of the pregnancy.

But then he just never… left.

In hindsight, despite neither of them bringing it up, they both recognize that it’s a way past overdue discussion. Someone should’ve been like, “hey, I know we’ve only been dating for like four months or so and we’re having a baby together, but should we live in the same space, maybe? Just for ease of parenting and all that?”.

Surprisingly, though, since Y/N very much appreciates her own room — she didn’t do well in college when she had a roommate in their dorm, and she’s very much an introvert that adores heading home at the end of the long day and simply being alone — she hasn’t completely hated Harry being around all the time. It’s the most that they’ve ever spent time together, a whopping three and a half weeks straight since Clementine was born.

It’s a different kind of time, though, considering a newborn’s schedule is unlike anything else. They alternate between who gets to nap during the day and while Y/N is technically cleared for recovery, she still aches like… well, like she pushed an entire body through her. (Even when she tears up looking at Clementine nearly every day, she still shudders at the thought of giving birth. Harry called it the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and she sincerely wonders if he’s mentally well.)

And somehow, they’ve developed a schedule that works quite well, for now at least. Clementine, their sweet little baby girl, is a decent sleeper. Per all those parenting books Harry obsessed over for nine months, she spends most of her time sleeping, with multiple feeding times throughout the day and night.

When Harry and Y/N both manage to be awake and conscious during the day, they hover over her bassinet — well, formerly in Y/N’s room, but now it seems to be Y/N’s plus Harry’s room? — quietly leaning in to make sure she’s breathing okay, admiring her cute little face, and taking pictures of the adorable onesies Harry puts her in. They have visitors, of course, including both pairs of their parents, siblings, and mutual friends. There’s a lot of crying and smiling and, oddly enough, entertaining, which is silly considering they’re still brand new parents who are working off of two- or three-hour incremental naps.

In terms of their dynamic, things shift slightly, but Y/N is still the grump Harry adores. She’s exhausted, understandably so. The whole breastfeeding thing wreaks havoc on her body and Clementine doesn’t love it, so she tries her best to regularly pump milk for her, but she hates sitting on the couch, asking Harry to turn on some stupid reality show to distract her, and feeling the machine push and prod at her breasts.

“This makes me feel like a cow,” she’d huffed the first time they did it, and it made Harry snort so loud he had to excuse himself from the room.

But Harry… he’s good, even if it’s difficult for Y/N to properly communicate that to him. She knows she got very lucky with him, not just from a partnership standpoint — which, that’s an entirely different conversation that they haven’t gotten to yet — but a parenting one, too. He has no reason to get up with her at 3 am because Clem’s doing her sweet little lamb cries from the corner of their bedroom. Y/N can very easily escape to the room she designated as her nursery months back, where there’s a comfy nursing chair her mother bought her, but instead Harry’s up before Y/N’s eyes are even properly open, gently placing her in her arms and pushing a warm bottle into her hand.

He insists on helping her with every feeding, taking on more diaper changes than Y/N, and even doing his best to take care of her along the way. He helps her into the bath when her bones and joints are too achy to stand in the shower, he never complains about cooking them dinner (if Y/N orders food one more time, she thinks her bank will call her and ask if she’s been taken hostage by one of those ordering apps), and, even with her heightened hormones and emotions, she does indeed cry helplessly, salty tears leaking onto her daughter’s forehead when Harry comes home one day with a bouquet of flowers, a tidy note in the front that says “for my girls”.

It makes him laugh so hard, the sight of his cranky girl in her milk-stained robe standing in the kitchen, gently rocking Clementine as she holds the pretty stems.

“Why are you laughing?” Y/N sniffs, lifting her hand to quickly wipe tears away from her cheeks.

“Because you just look so cute right now,” he says with a grin. He takes the flowers back from her, murmuring out something about putting them in a vase.

“Sometimes I do wonder if you’re certifiably insane.” Y/N mutters, partially to herself. When she glances down at a milk drunk Clem, a smile quirks at the edges of her lips. “What do you think, Clemmie? Is dada crazy?”

Harry knows that this isn’t the traditional family he dreamed about, that having a baby with Y/N was a risk he was only willing to take because he always wanted to be a dad — but shit, he’s so happy.

(Y/N is, too. She’s over the moon, with the way gratitude feels like it fills up her body in a way she’s never experienced before. And she knows she’s awful at expressing her feelings, but when she glances back up at Harry, eyes twinkling with a healthy blush over her cheeks and a smile on her lips, he knows. He just knows.)

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lilystyles · 4 months

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wildest dreams.

part two of style, written by @lilystyles

my masterlist & style masterlist

authors note the very requested part two of style. i got lots of asks & reblogs & comments asking for more of style!H so i decided to write one for y'all. thanks for all the love on it. also there was one ask i got with the idea of y/n going on a blind date and i LOVED it so thank u anon 🩷

brief description y/n and harry start to see each other more and more. but it's a secret, things get complicated when emma sets y/n up on a blind date. harry doesn’t like it one bit.

warnings! slight age gap, SMUT (f!receiving, fingering, daddy kink, missionary, riding, very slight breeding kink, no condom, all the good stuff) sexual tension, mentions of drugs&alcohol abuse. wordcount: (around 15k words)

fratboy!older!bffsbrother!harry x younger!innocent!reader

* * * * *

Harry arrived at Y/n’s massive and buzzing share house almost twenty minutes before eight.

He’d parked his car nearby and quietly realised to himself on the walk up the driveway that he’d never actually been inside the sharehouse before. He had dropped her off a fair few times and picked her up a handful from here but Y/n preferred to come stay at his place. He couldn’t blame her, Niall’s place was similar he lived in one of the frats nearby campus. His room and the house were disgusting and Harry much preferred his clean quiet house with his sister. Even though Harry was in a frat too, he lived out of the house. The only reason those guys had welcomed him into the frat in the first place was because he was on the Uni soccer team and he was really good. His room was turned into a storage room for alcohol, dartboards, and bongs. Harry had hooked up with a few girls in there regardless of the lack of bed.

He felt a funny feeling in his tummy walking up the driveway, since when did he get nervous? He’d been with so many people he didn’t think that existed for him anymore. But this was different, this wasn’t just anyone this was Y/n. His Y/n. The girl from home.

He looked up at the house biting his lip, Y/n’s place certainly wasn’t as trashy as Alpha Chi Sigma, thankfully. Hers was a little ways off campus it was this old run-down brick house with two stories and eight rooms. It was jam-packed with students and actually threw quite a few parties, known on campus for its great big backyard and one of Y/n’s roommate Mike's weed brownies. Y/n didn’t care all that much when parties happened, she’d either invite Emma and they’d have lots of tequila and end up asleep in Y/n’s room, or she might even invite Harry and his mates too just for fun. Otherwise she just locked her room and escaped to the library or the Styles’ place.

As Harry reached the big red door he knocked loudly and a short girl opened the door before his knuckles had even retracted back to his side. He recognised her from his Economics class, he thought. She was in some pyjamas and looked up very confused.

“You're not the Chinese guy.” She said eyeing him annoyedly, groans escaped the mouths of others inside, and he could understand their disappointment. “Who are you?”

This made Harry feel suddenly rather guilty for not being the Chinese delivery guy and he frowned, “I’m Harry, ‘m a friend of Y/n’s?”

“Upstairs third door to your left.” She said shortly opening the door wide enough to let him in before promptly sitting back down on the couch with a bunch of other students, they were watching what looked like a Japanese horror film.

Harry shut the door behind him and made his way upstairs quickly, Y/n’s roommates didn’t seem all that friendly, he hoped was going in the right direction. As he reached the top of the stairs he heard music coming from one room that sounded like a rave and knew that definitely wasn’t Y/n’s room, he heard people chatting away in another, and when he was at the third door he saw a small sign on the door that said ‘Y/n’s Room <3’. He smiled at the familiar neat handwriting that was on so many birthday cards in his collection, and knocked on the door, with a few quick taps.

He heard some shuffling behind the door and it wasn’t long before the door swung open. There she was, his Y/n. Even though he’d only seen her a few hours ago it felt like a long time ago now. How did he already miss her?

“You're here early, Styles.” She said surprised checking the time on her phone in her hand. Harry didn’t seem the type to show up early, and normally he didn’t Y/n knew that about him from years of experience. He was even late to his own birthday parties and if you asked a single person who had hooked up with him they’d say he was always late when they invited him over. Just his way. He wasn’t a timely person.

Harry smiled down at her form, she looked much more rested than this morning. She had taken a nap for a good portion of the morning and a long shower cleaning every inch of herself, she felt very rejuvenated now. The warm water had soothed her aching muscles and small bruises that littered her body from last night. She’d washed off all the sweat and alcohol that had sweated out of her this morning, and her hangover had eased, thank god. She had taken some aspirin for her head too and drank lots and lots of water.

She looked so soft and cosy, the golden light of her room hit her face, showing all the angles of her calm expression. She was wearing this matching tracksuit set that was a blue almost grey colour, and some fuzzy pink socks Emma bought her for Christmas last year. Her hair was freshly washed, dried, and styled in her usual way. Her beautiful face was bare of makeup only some moisturiser that smelt really good, and her lips were covered in a glossy lip balm.

“Wanted to make a good impression, Babe.” He said smirking.

Y/n let him join her inside shaking her head, it was very unlike him to be on time and she’d expected he would arrive around 8:30 instead of 8. He placed his bag of snacks and DVDs down onto her little bed taking in the space.

Her room was so her, she had this big mattress on the floor that took up most of her room. Her sheets were mismatched shades of pink, blue, and lavender and she had about a dozen pillows. She had lots of fairy lights strung up, posters, and photos covering her walls. Her mattress and little desk by her window near the back of the room took up most of the small space. But if she had picked a bigger room that meant having a roommate so she didn’t mind all that much.

It was quite neat in here. She had all her desk organised with her laptop and textbooks. Her cupboard had somehow miraculously shut despite the large array of clothes stuffing it. She had a candle burning that smelt like cinnamon cookies, but underneath the candle was the underlying smell of her. Whether that was her laundry detergent or something that was just her, Harry didn’t know, but the smell brought him great comfort.

He shrugged off his big thick coat too, the day had turned into a windy-rainy one and he wanted to stay warm, but Y/n’s room was very warm inside. He was in an ashen grey hoodie with red flannel over the top, some black jeans and sneakers. His hair was unruly as always but he looked extra good today. He made himself comfortable on the bed grabbing a pink bear and cuddling it to his chest playfully. He dwarfed her bed with his tall form, and he looked so funny sitting in her bed. Harry Styles, sex god, player, and party animal, with a rotten attitude, was curled up in her bed. She almost wanted to take a picture to show people, but she knew she wouldn’t be telling a soul about him being with her tonight.

“I’ve known you for years I already have all the impressions needed, Harry.”

He looked over at her from her bed. “Yeah, but you’ve never seen me on a date before, have yeh? I can be wholesome.”

What? This is a date?

Y/n blushed deeply, if she’d known that this was a date she would have dressed a bit nicer. She was just in some joggers and a hoodie, but to be fair to her they were her nice ones. The ones lacking ice cream stains and holes. Harry had seen her looking like a hungover mess, he’d seen her in the middle of the night at the library, he’d seen her with the flu, and she never looked bad even at her worst.

“This is a date?” She asked looking down at her sock-covered feet.

She’d been dreaming of this day since she was a kid when Harry had helped her when she fell off her bike and scraped her knee. She still remembered the day vividly, it was something she thought of every time they all went home to Holmes Chapel for the holidays or summertime, and they drove passed the playground. She still had the scar their on her right knee, even now. And she remembers Harry putting the bandaid on for her and kissing her knee to ‘take the pain away’. Every time she felt the little bump or saw the lighter patch of skin on her knee she thought of him kissing it. She’d stopped crying after he’d done that and from that day on, her heart belonged to him.

She thought if they ever did somehow end up together on a date, that’d he would take her for a drive or they’d go to the cinema. Something normal. Maybe even a romantic stroll somewhere or something wild like skinny dipping. But instead here he was in her room making himself at home in her little bed where she’d spent hours thinking of him; before her eyes finally allowed her to sleep.

He laughed at her shy expression, patting a spot on the bed beside him for her to sit. “Wasn’t I obvious about that?”

She sat down beside him, laughing at herself she didn’t know much when it came to dating, she’d only had two or so boyfriends. She’d tried the one-night stand thing once but it wasn’t for her. She didn’t know dating etiquette. So she was all stiff beside him now feeling even more nervous than before he’d arrived. This whole thing with Harry frankly didn’t feel real, she’d liked him for so many years and only now was he starting to show similar feelings toward her, it honestly tripped her out a lot. It would be like your celebrity crush showing up at your door with flowers, a bit of a dream, right?

“Not to me.” She said looking at him. He smelt deliciously good beside her, and she wanted to devour him.

He looked over at her with the same eyes he’d given her in the kitchen when she’d comforted him, all soft and molten like an ice cream on a hot day. As he lifted his hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, she leaned into his touch, his hand was so warm and smooth against her face. He was so gentle with her and she felt her mind flashback to last night for what felt like the millionth time when his hands were all over her body. Though they’d been a bit wild, he was always gentle with her unless she asked him otherwise.

“Well I’m sorry, but this is a date, is that alright with you?” He asked, nibbling his bottom lip to contain a smile. She was just so cute, sitting there in front of him like a doe-eyed little thing. You’d have thought that she barely knew him with how she was acting.

She nodded. “Fine by me.”

“Good to hear, Baby.” He sighed at her because she still seemed very nervous. He didn’t know how to comfort her other than touch. “Why are you so far away? You know I don’t bite, not unless you ask me to.”

She looked over at him, “I’m just nervous, I guess. If my fourteen-year-old self could see me now…”

She didn’t finish her sentence.

This made his heart swell. “You're nervous around me? Even after everything we did last night?”

She shrugged like that was an obvious conclusion. “Well, yeah…of course.”

This made him throw his head back laughing, like a little kid. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous too. S’okay to be nervous. But don’t worry it’s just me. Nothing special.”

That made her feel better, she looked up at him, a smile cracking on her face. “You're nervous too?”

He nodded. “Of course I am. I’m on a date with a gorgeous girl, I’d be a fool not to be.”

Y/n pecked his cheek in response, her lips smearing against the tiny stubble on his cheek, as she quickly moved away and opened the bag excitedly to see the things he’d brought. He brought snacks as requested all their favourites (peanut M&Ms, popcorn, and a tub of Ben & Jerry’s) along with a few DVDs. The one he had been raving about was in there and she grabbed it putting it on the very small telly she had by the end of her bed.

Harry explained a story about how he went to three different grocery shops to find the peanut M&Ms because apparently, the world was in a shortage today. This made Y/n want to kiss him because he’d gone to all that effort knowing Y/n’s favourite movie snack was M&Ms. Whenever they went to the cinema she always got them, and the three of them would go a fair amount. They loved going late at night and talking loudly in empty cinemas about how cheesy the films were.

She looked at him from the edge of the bed. He’d kicked his sneakers off into the corner and he was resting on her bed, head lying on her pillow, a knitted blanket over his lap. He looked very comfy and at ease, and honestly, he was. The smell of her bed was comforting and the soft tone of her voice was soothing. Y/n had a way of driving him crazy, usually when her attention wasn’t on him, but a way of calming him instantly when their eyes met.

“You hungry? I want pizza.” She asked brows pinched in thought.

He nodded grabbing his phone to call them. “Sure. Joeys?”

“I think I want a ha—”

“Hawaiin with no pineapple, I know, you freak. Who doesn’t like pineapple?”

“Me.” She said. She’d never really noticed how observant Harry was until now. He knew her pizza order, he knew she liked peanut M&Ms, he knew her chamomile tea brand, and he knew she liked popcorn extra buttery. Which happens when you have history like they do, but she never thought he cared that much. So what if she knew he liked pepperoni with extra spice? She was obsessed with him for most of her adolescence, that made sense. But why did Harry know that? She was the obsessed one.

“Hey mate, yeah can I get a large Hawaiin no pineapple please, and large pepperoni extra spicy, and a loaf of garlic bread too thanks.” He said into the phone.

Y/n told Harry her address in a hushed tone and he parroted it to the pizza guy on the phone. The pizza would arrive in 20 minutes from now, so Y/n joined his side happily and hit play on the telly. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder so she could rest against his side, and it all felt very domestic. Her cheek was resting against him and she felt her eyes drooping even though she’d already napped today.

Y/n normally cuddled with Emma and watched movies on her shoulder while Harry brooded on the leather recliner and complained when the girls picked a rom-com of some kind. But she saw him cry during The Notebook last month. He always said Spiderman was his favourite movie but she knew it was actually The Notebook.

She felt guilty at the thought of her best friend, and a pang in her tummy. Normally if a guy had even made eye contact with her Y/n was blowing up her phone with every detail, that’s what best friends are for. But she couldn’t tell her about Harry. They’d stop being friends. Emma and Y/n had many friends who had come and gone because of Harry, she didn’t blame any of them for shagging him. He’s always been attractive and shaggable, but she knew better than to get with him then and she didn’t know what had done it but lately, he’d just been irresistible last night and right now.

Maybe back then she just had more self-control. Y/n remembers a girl named Cami the most. She and Harry hooked up once drunkenly at a party Gemma had thrown while Anne and Robin were away and the next morning Emma and Y/n walked in on her giving him a blowie. Cami was then banned from any other sleepover. Which was a shame because Cami was super nice, it made Y/n wonder if those years of friendship protected her from Emma’s harsh banishment or if that didn’t count.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” He asked her playing with the strands of loose hair resting against his arm.

She looked up at him away from the telly she’d zoned out on. “I- Em.” She said.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I knew it would be something you’d be thinking about.”

She sighed. “Yeah, I just- she’s gonna hate me, H. I want you, but you know I can’t.”

Harry knew Emma was Y/n’s number one person and they were basically like sisters, Y/n was a part of his family, though he’d never seen her in a particularly brotherly way. She came on holidays overseas with them, she was invited to family dinners, and they’d even had a Christmas Eve together a few times in the past couple of years. And that wasn’t something he would ever try and get in the way of, Y/n being there was what made him want to attend. Because he loved that Y/n was a part of his life in that way and he’d grown up with her, he loved having her around. He cherished those moments and even though he didn’t act like it, he would miss her when she wasn’t there. Last Christmas Eve she was with her Grandparents and he’d hated playing Scrabble without her.

She had no idea of any of his true feelings. Which was his own fault, he knew that, he was purposefully rude to Y/n to keep her at arm's length, and acting like she didn’t exist to try and suffocate his feelings from her. Emma was behind that, ever since he could remember he wasn’t allowed to share Y/n. Emma was always reminding him when his eyes lingered on her longer than they should, that Y/n was Emma’s best friend, off limits. And despite how he felt about her he’d listened to keep Y/n out of the drama of Emma’s wrath.

But Harry cared for Y/n very deeply and he wished Emma wasn’t so weird about it. Why couldn’t they both just share her? And anyway, it was Y/n’s decision, not Emma’s. She wasn't a toy she was a person, who made her own decisions whether or not Emma approved. Normally Emma’s judgement was the only thing Y/n needed to make a decision, but when it came to Harry she had to disagree.

And anyway, she seemed pretty happy to be wrapped up in his arms right now, despite knowing what trouble it would cause if anyone found out. She knew it was wrong to lie, and hide, but she didn't think it was wrong be around Harry. That's what felt right.

“I know she doesn’t like people getting involved with me.” He began, “But that’s only because they always get hurt by me and it becomes a whole thing. But I would never hurt you.”

His reassuring words made her feel better but she looked up at him, with one more worry. “How is this any different than you and Cami, Lacey, or Tiffany—” She was about to continue her long list of girls but he cut her off.

“Because you're the only one for me.”

Y/n was about to ask him what he meant by that but the doorbell rang. “That’s probably pizza.”

She sat up and left before he could say anything else.

She was happy to be with him and she enjoyed his company and his cuddles but this whole thing scared her a lot. There were a lot of risks in going down this path with him and she was painfully aware of all the risks, she knew every single one and the reason she hadn’t gotten with him before now was because she knew it was dangerous for her to get involved with such a gorgeous devilish creature.

Don’t get her wrong she trusted Harry with her life. But that doesn’t mean she trusted him when it came to his relationships. He’d never had a girlfriend, all the girls thought they were his girlfriends but he never saw any of them as more than a shag. Which is fine, but she knew she couldn’t be satisfied with just a shag. Her heart was too soft for that boy to only want his dick.

When Y/n came back with the warm pizzas burning her hands Harry was sleepily cuddling her bear in bed and she felt her heart melt and let her thoughts melt away too. They ate the pizza in bed and all worries were washed away as they distracted themselves with Y/n’s favourite film. When Harry Met Sally.

Harry remembered the countless times this movie was on at midnight when he came downstairs to see Y/n asleep on his couch using it to tune out Emma’s snores.

Her eyes stung with sleep as she watched tonight, it comforted her, and the smell of Harry and the gentle sound of his heartbeat lulled her to sleep. She fell asleep quickly into the movie and Harry only noticed when he was getting no replies from her during his complaints about how cheesy and unrealistic this movie was. When he realised she was asleep right there on his chest he stopped talking and moving; wanting to let her sleep there. He grabbed the knitted blanket from the bottom of their legs and brought it to just below her chin.

Kissing her forehead before focusing back on the movie. He thought Meg Ryan was pretty fit and the gentle breathing of Y/n was calming, it wasn’t long until he fell asleep too holding her very close to him. Not a worry about being caught, or oversleeping, just enjoyed the warmth of her body and the soft breaths that hit his neck.

It was a couple weeks later until Harry saw Y/n again and he hated to admit it to himself that he missed her, more than he’d ever missed anyone and it had just been a few days. She wasn't even his girlfriend, and she was already driving him up the wall.

She’d called him that afternoon and it brought out something in Harry he’d never expected to find within himself.

Harry was not a jealous person. He wasn’t possessive at all. Never had been and he never thought he would be. It just wasn’t who he was. He always thought it was because he just never had those feelings within him, he just didn’t care. He thought jealousy was stupid. What good came from it? Jealousy never accomplished anything.

He didn’t care if the people he’d been with had moved on or gotten with someone else, one time a girl he’d had a bit of a fling with for the Summer ended up hooking up with his best friend and he truly didn’t care. Like at all. They expected him to get angry, shout, or stop talking to them at least. But he didn’t he just shrugged and said something about how he understood. He found someone else to spend the night with quickly after their conversation, and when someone brought it up he completely forgot it had even happened, which shows how little he cared.

He just never got jealous, and it was something he felt was beneath him. Since he saw sex as such a casual and easygoing thing to him, he felt like he belonged to everyone and no one all at once and so he saw people as all the same. It was all just a blur of people and feelings. He was lucky, he never got sad after sex or disgusted he just felt a release, left, and that was that. He didn’t like to chat all that much, he was a fuck and leave kind of guy. If the person really needed a cuddle or some aftercare he wouldn’t just leave right away but he knew cuddling usually meant feelings growing, so he tried to avoid that at all costs too. Which to some was just awful to be around, and he could understand that too. Sometimes people wanted a connection that wasn’t just compatible kinks or sexual chemistry. Something deeper, love, burning lust, tenderness. That’s not to say Harry wasn’t a good lover, he was great no matter the person he could click well with them. He made them feel like they were the only two people in the world, but there was still a bit of a shadow to his love-making that made the people know that’s all it was.

Just a fuck, just a kiss, just an orgasm. Nothing more, nothing less.

He’d heard or read about people having sex that felt like fireworks or magic or something ridiculous and sappy and he’d thought it was all blown out of proportion. Sex was more primal and animalistic to Harry. It wasn’t something otherworldly. It was like eating, sleeping, or breathing. It was just a natural human experience and urge, and people needed it to survive a healthy life. It wasn’t tied to any emotions, just like eating a sandwich at lunch. Wasn’t anything to be ashamed of either.

And it certainly wasn’t ethereal, or at least it wasn’t until Y/n.

He hadn’t felt so connected with someone like that ever. In conversation, in sex, in life. She understood him, she accepted him, and despite their differences, it worked. And god, when they had sex it was just so time-stopping. Touching her was like touching heaven.

His jealousy, his attraction, made him realise he liked her. Like actually liked her, and that if this was what liking someone was that meant he never had before. He’d never liked anyone except her.

He’d never wanted to date someone, take care of them, and be with them without having to do anything. Just be together, you know?

Harry wanted to date Y/n, take care of her, and just be with her. The unfamiliar feelings rolled through his skin like a tidal wave. All these feelings were new to him, and it meant he didn’t know how to act. It was overwhelming and he didn’t know who to confide in.

Because now all of a sudden he was a jealous person? It just didn’t make sense. None of it did.

When he found out Emma had set Y/n up on a double date with her and Zayn, Harry was not one bit okay with it. He couldn’t have cared less if someone he’d been with fucked his best friend in front of him, but the idea of someone thinking they could talk to Y/n made his skin crawl. Someone getting to touch her like she’d let him, someone getting to kiss her sweet lips, whisper filth in her ear? He hated it. He hated the thought.

Jealousy burned his skin like wildfire and he didn’t know what to do. He knew Y/n wasn’t his girlfriend, but they’d been on a date now which meant more to him than any other interaction with any girl he’d ever had. It had been a perfect first date that eventually led to her falling asleep in his arms and him playing with her hair as he memorised every freckle on her face. They both woke up the next morning with a giggle and she walked him to his car her hand in his, and to his surprise kissed him against the hood of his car. It was enough to have him dazed and wanting more, her lips smeared against his excitedly with an innocent giggle. When she pulled away she whispered a breathless goodbye and he hadn’t seen her since.

They’d called a few times and chatted until the early hours of the morning about anything and everything, and he’d seen her at his house a few times. But he wasn’t allowed to act how he wished because Emma was always there, he’d always call Y/n when she was home complaining about how he wished things were different. But since neither of them knew what was going on yet they knew it was best to not tell her.

Y/n didn’t want to go on this double date. She couldn’t think of anything worse. Zayn’s friend Peter was a notorious prick on campus. He was just straight-up horrible and so jarring on the senses. They’d met here and there and Niall hated him too which was enough for Y/n to know everything she needed about the bloke.

Y/n was pretty sure no one liked him, not even Zayn. But Y/n agreed for Emma’s sake. She knew Emma really liked Zayn (or so she said) and this was one of ‘the only ways their date would happen’. But that didn’t make her not want to go. She called Harry as soon as Emma left her place to get ready.

He answered on the third ring.

“Hi, Baby.”

She could practically hear his smile. Things were going well for them. She thought the shift from whatever they once were to this would be awkward but it was easy. They were still teasing, and rude, but the words hardly had any edge anymore. Even when she swore at him it felt like a kiss and now when he stared at her Y/n noticed the softness in his eyes. Had that always been there?

“Hey, Styles.”

He sighed softly sitting down on his couch, “And to what do I owe this pleasure, Y/n?”

“Some bad news.”

He sucked a breath, “What’s wrong?” His voice melted into her spine, and he sounded worried. He was thinking the worst, and though this was pretty shitty it was nothing like he was thinking. He hoped she was okay.

“You know I like you, right?”

He nodded but forgot she couldn’t see. “Yes, I like you too, what is it?”

“I’m sorry, H, but I didn’t know how to say no without blowing our cover…” She said avoiding saying it. She didn’t know how he would react. He’d been so lovely, she didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

“Spit it out, Trouble.” He said.

“Emma begged me to go on a double date so she could be with Zayn.” She said pinching her eyes shut and practically wincing on the other line.

“And what did you say?”

“I said yes, I’m sorry,”

Harry felt a pang of jealousy rush into his chest unfamiliarly. But he didn’t want to make her feel bad. He knew she hadn’t meant to hurt him. She sounded so guilty over the line, he was just glad she couldn’t see him. He was embarrassingly jealous. He felt winded as his hand moved up to his chest, squeezing where the pain was. Normally he always knew the right things to say, but he struggled to find the words. He was just pissed.

Emma, totally got in the way time and time again. It’s like she was out to sabotage them. He wanted to tell her off, but he knew better. Y/n would be mad if he did that.

“It’s fine, we only went on one date.” He said, but it didn’t come out like he wanted. He wanted to sound aloof and fine. But his voice came out forced.

Y/n sighed, he was right they had only been on one date. But she felt that it had meant more to her than any other dates she’d been on. And she was sure it would mean way more than this stupid date. “I know. But I wanted to tell you that I don’t like Peter. I hate that guy actually, he’s a fuckin’ prick….”

Harry despised Peter. Even more now. He got to be with Y/n all pretty in public on a date, Harry knew no one would treat her as well as he could. Harry knew what she wanted. What did Peter know?

“...But Emma asked me. And if I’d have said I was seeing someone else, involved in something serious, she would have drilled me like a Russian spy. You know that it’s very surprising for me to be seeing someone, she wouldn’t have let it go.”

Something serious. His heart swelled despite it all.

Harry let out a small laugh, “It’s okay, Y/n, really.”

“I don’t want to go, but it’s only for a few hours. Can I call you after?”

This made him smile, despite how pissed he was she was so cute. “Yeah, ‘course.”

“Okay, good, well I have to get ready, Styles, talk soon.” She said.

“Bye, Trouble” He hung up and his hands itched to do something. But he knew he couldn’t do anything he’d just have to wait for her call. The whole thing made him antsy.

Just as he hung up Emma walked through the front door. She was holding some shopping bags.

“What are you up to?” He asked. They looked like clothes and shoes.

She looked over with a smile. “Me and Y/n have a double date.”

He acted surprised standing up, “Oh yeah? With who?”

“Zayn and Peter.” She said walking to her room and Harry followed, wanting to know more details he’d been too afraid to ask Y/n.

“When?”

“Tonight, at seven,” Emma replied quickly hands looking through her racks of dresses, eyes far from Harry who had sat himself on her bed.

“Where?” He prodded.

She looked over, “What is this? 21 questions? Why do you care?”

“I’m not allowed to be interested in your life? Gosh, forgive me caring, Em.”

She rolled her eyes. “I thought we’d grown out of the protective thing?”

“I just worry about you two. Boys are pigs.”

Emma sighed. “You would know.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“We’ll be fine. It’s just at Andy’s Burgers. It’s super close to Y/n’s place. And your friends with those guys, you know they aren’t serial killers.”

His lips curled in disgust as his jaw clenched and defended himself. “Zayn is fine. Peter is not my friend at all. I hate him. He’s such a stupid twat. I don’t understand why would Y/n go out with him.”

Emma turned around her hands landing on her hips. “Because he’s hot and he’s supposed to have a big dick.”

This made Harry’s jaw clench hard. Peter better not try anything with Y/n, or he’d rip that dick off. “Why would Y/n care about something like that? Doesn’t she like guys with actual brain cells? Doesn't like her.”

Emma squinted, her brows pinching. “Like who, mate? It really is none of your business, Harry, we don’t question your awful taste. Anyway, I don’t see why you care? Y/n can get with whoever she wants.”

This made Harry’s stomach curl. No, she couldn’t. She could only be with him. He wanted her all to himself. No one was worthy of her, not even himself, but at least Y/n wanted him. She didn’t want Peter. She’d just told him he was a prick, she couldn’t want him.

Harry didn’t want anyone else, and he’d turned down a plethora of women and men since that night with Y/n in his bed. He’d avoided telling her that, to avoid upsetting her. He sat up, annoyed and beginning to feel his mind go on a loop of bad thoughts of Y/n with other people. Y/n kissing another boy. God, it made him feral with rage.

He shook himself out of the images pooling in his mind. “Whatever, I’m going to Niall’s. If you need me call me. Don’t let them drive you home if they’re drunk or summat.”

She nodded. “Thanks, H.”

He nodded getting up and leaving. “Bye, Em.”

“Catch ya.” She said.

Harry grabbed his phone, wallet, and keys and left. He was gonna blow off some steam with Niall. Anything to get his mind off Y/n sitting pretty beside that dickhead ginger Peter. Thoughts of Y/n drifted to the back of his mind as he played Mario Kart with Niall and talked shit about Niall’s new boyfriend Paddy, Niall met his mates last night and they’d been proper twats to him and Paddy tried to gaslight him later on when they got back to his flat. Niall ended up leaving in a fit of rage. Harry tried his best at giving advice, he wanted to confide in Niall about this whole Y/n thing but he knew it could blow up in his face. Not that he didn't trust Niall to keep it hushed.

Y/n’s thoughts however were on only Harry, she would do anything to be on a date with him right now. They could be sharing a milkshake and talking about music or their days, honestly with Harry she would be happy to watch paint dry, his company made anything infinitely better. He was fun, he was cheeky, and she could be herself.

But no, she wasn’t with Harry, she wasn’t having fun at all. And she could hardly be her normal self one bit. She had to be quiet and polite when all she wanted to do was roll her eyes and spit out what a dickhead this boy sitting in front of her was.

She was sat beside the stupid prick Peter sipping down this actually quite delicious peanut butter & chocolate shake that was new on the menu and munching on some fries to keep her lips and hands busy while he talked her ear off. She loved the food here. She and Emma came here all the time to study and eat their body weight in their fries which have this great chicken and spicy salt flavouring on.

She just wanted the date to be over. He was so dull. The only thing he’d talked about the entire date for the past hour was him. His father’s business, how he could’ve had a career in Hockey if he didn’t injure his knee in his final year of school, and then making jokes about his ‘big’ dick and laughing like the complete and utter Tory he was. Which Y/n knew was a load of crap because one time he’d sent it to Emma during their first year of Uni and it wasn’t horrible but it certainly wasn’t some magical penis like he was saying.

Even just by looking at his face, you could tell he had no idea where the clitoris was. (Harry knew where it was blindfolded and you could just by the cocky look on his gorgeous face).

Y/n honestly thought it would’ve been less painful to slam her head between a door repeatedly. Zayn and Emma were hitting it off from the other side of the booth. They were leaning in closer, giggling, flirting. She was happy for Emma, really she was, but she didn’t see why she or Peter had to come. They added nothing to this date.

She was thankful when dinner arrived, it meant the date was almost over. She dove into her burger eating quickly so she could make an excuse to not talk or look at Peter. She hoped if she finished quickly the date could end quickly too.

“Are you girls going to that party on Saturday?” Asked Zayn taking a sip of his strawberry shake.

Emma looked at Y/n swallowing her mouthful of cheesy fries. “That’s the one at Harry’s Frat. Niall’s idea.”

Y/n nodded, she’d only go if Harry did or Emma really wanted her there. “Oh, dunno. Maybe.”

Emma smiled. “It sounds fun. I love costume parties.”

Y/n sipped on her shake and looked down at her lap her phone had a message from Harry on it. She’d check when no one was looking. She thought it was cute that he was checking on her.

“Hate those guys though. So cocky.”

Y/n looked up and without thinking scoffed, staring him down. “Who Harry and Niall?”

Peter looked over. “Yeah. Think their god’s gift because their football team’s the most supported at the Uni. Bunch of twats.”

“Can’t be any worse than you.” She said, and Emma was surprised eyes widening from across the table, Y/n’s words held a bite. But she knew that despite Y/n’s soft timid nature, she did not put up with people saying rude things about people she cared about. She was generally a calm, soft, and kept to herself kind of person. But if someone said something she didn’t agree with she always spoke up. “At least their only point of conversation isn’t about their less-than-thrilling cocks and daddy’s money.” She rolled her eyes.

“Calm down, Babe. It’s a joke. We are all mates here.” Said Peter.

Her brows furrowed as she looked at Emma, why wasn’t she saying anything? If someone had said something about either Y/n or Emma to Harry he probably would have punched them without even thinking. And Niall too, Y/n remembers one time some guy smacked Y/n’s ass at a party and Niall had to be pulled off him by three people.

“Are you dumb? Niall is our best friend and Harry is Em’s brother, you really think we aren’t going to be annoyed if you talk shit about them? Who do you think you are, huh?” She said turning to look at him.

Emma diverted the topic to something else and eventually, when Peter and Zayn were talking about Hockey, she made a signal for Y/n to follow her to the loo. Y/n was still pissed, and very ready to go home, she felt herself stewing in the corner her rage burning up under her skin. She didn’t understand why Emma hadn’t said anything, and that frustrated her more. She really hoped Emma was devising a plan for their escape but when they stepped inside the bathroom Emma stared at herself in the mirror reapplying her lip gloss she said something Y/n very much did not want to hear.

“I know Peter was a dick, but did you really have to have a go at him?”

This made Y/n even more annoyed than before, she’d only come on this fucking date for her and now she was complaining about how she acted when Peter was the one acting like a prick. Y/n didn’t see why she was at fault.

She and Emma never argued, Y/n didn’t like this. Emma was always on her side, even if Y/n had been in the wrong Emma would always be on her side. And anyway, she was protecting Harry and Niall. Not just anyone. She didn’t go out of her way to make the conversation turn into her having a go at him.

“Yes. I did. I only came on this date for you so that you could be with Zayn. Which you could’ve done without me and Peter. He’s awful, and you two could’ve just gone and done something on your own I don’t see why I had to be here.” She said, arms folding and Emma watched her.

“And you know I don’t like when people are rude about our friends.”

Emma nodded. “I know Babe, sorry. I just didn’t want you to feel left out. You never go out with guys, I didn’t want to make you feel bad if me and Zayn start dating, you know?”

Y/n’s brows pinched, she was acting like that wasn’t Emma’s fault. Every boy she’d ever liked other than Harry, Emma had stolen or taken away. It’s like she wanted Y/n to be all hers. Not that it bothered Y/n much, if she couldn’t have Harry should didn’t want anyone anyway.

“I don’t care about boys.”

Emma sighed grabbing her hand. “I know, but it wouldn’t hurt to put yourself out there, Babe.”

“Okay, sure, I see your point. But Peter? Really?”

She laughed. “Yeah, your right, he isn’t really your type. But he was the only available one on a Friday night.”

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. “Yeah, wonder why.”

Emma tucked a strand of Y/n’s hair behind her ear. “Can I ask you one last favour?”

Y/n frowned eyes sharpening. “I’m not shagging him.”

Emma laughed tossing her head back. “No, not that.”

“Then what?”

“Can you get a lift home with Peter instead of me? I invited Zayn over, Harry’s gone to Niall’s for a bit. I need a good shag, and I need it now.”

Y/n sighed, a big groan leaving her lips. “Fine. But please make this date end soon. I don’t want to miss Murder She Wrote which starts at 9.”

Emma laughed. “Okay Grandma, don’t worry you’ll be tucked in bed in 30 minutes I can guarantee it.”

They stepped outside the loos walking back to their table and Y/n sat down on the side with Peter, sitting as close to the edge as possible. While the three were wrapped up in conversation Y/n quickly checked her phone she had a message from Harry still waiting for her reply.

Harry Styles 🍒

Call me as soon as you're home. Miss your voice.

This made her smile to herself, hearting the message before returning her attention back to the table. The three of them were talking and Y/n felt herself zone out staring out the window. Rain was dripping down against the windows. She was just thinking of Harry, and internally screaming at the fact she wasn’t on a date with him right now. He had become more clingy than she’d expected over the past few weeks, he called her a fair amount and they snuck talks in private when they could but they hadn’t had a chance to go on another date yet. The way he was so kind and clingy to her was honestly shocking, normally he was the best at a fuck and ghost. She assumed he’d do the same, which she knew she’d just pretend to be fine with and then probably lose her shit when she saw him with another girl.

But nothing had been as explosive as she thought it to be, and that was probably because Emma hadn’t the faintest idea.

By the time everyone finished their meals Zayn and Emma made a dash for it. Leaving their money on the table with the cheque. Zayn paid half and Peter paid the other. Emma kissed her cheek and patted Peter’s shoulder before the two raced away, giggling. Y/n was cranky at the fact Emma had only thought of herself the whole night and sighed leaning back into the seat of the booth. More than ready to leave.

Y/n frowned to herself as Peter seemed totally intent on keeping her there for a bit more of a chat.

She tried to be polite about needing to head home. Making up some project she needed to do, but Peter’s hand slid onto her knee and she felt disgust crawl up her spine. She felt uncomfortable.

“Maybe we could just pop into the loos then, I bet your into that kinda thing. Can tell."

Y/n’s jaw dropped and she pushed his hand off quickly, she tapped her phone and Harry’s number dialling instantly. He was in her favourites. She needed his help, she knew he would come. She brought the phone to her ear.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She said lips curling in anger.

Harry picked up on the second ring. “Hi, Baby.” He said, raspy. There was lots of noise, he must’ve been in the car driving home.

Peter grabbed her wrist and pulled her close. “C’mon, don’t be such a prude. I paid for your dinner. You owe me at least a blowie.”

Harry, spoke over the line into her ear. “Y/n?”

She snatched her wrist out from his rough palm.

“Get off me!” She shouted and grabbed the last of Emma’s milkshake from the table and threw it onto him. He flinched at the cold milkshake hitting his skin, his Ralph Loren polo was now caked in thick pink liquid, and his ginger hair was now soaked and dripping down over his eyes as he gasped.

“Bitch!” He shouted, wiping his hand over his eyes.

“Fuck yourself, you pathetic fucking prick.” She shouted pointing her finger at him. Harry had heard the interaction and his fingers curled against the steering wheel, knuckles turning white from his grip. He put his foot on the pedal. He was already turning the car around in her direction.

“Sorry, can you pick me up please, Harry? Peter’s a creep, I need you.”

“Of course, hang tight I’ll be there soon.”

Peter was shouting at her like the pathetic baby he was and some waitresses came over to help clean up the mess she’d made by throwing at him.

“Sorry,” She whispered to the cherry-haired girl who came over with a cloth and spray. The girl just laughed as Peter rushed over to the manager who had come out at the sound of the ruckus.

“It’s okay, he seems like he's a bit of a knob.” She said looking over at Y/n.

“Are you alright?” The blonde waitress asked from the other side of her.

“Yeah, he’s just a handsy asshole,” Y/n explained.

It took only a few minutes before the doorbell rang above the entryway door and Harry entered the restaurant. He looked dishevelled and his eyes were wild as he stepped inside. His hair was wet from having walked from his car to her, the thunderstorm outside had soaked him. The top of his grey hoodie was speckled in rain, and his eyes were all stormy and this dark green that Y/n melted over. He made his way over to her and she felt herself forget for a second why he was here.

She was just happy to see him.

“You okay?” He asked and she nodded, feeling relief flood her tummy. Harry always made her feel safe. He’d always felt like her protector even growing up. She remembered one time at her school dance some boys were trying to get Emma and Y/n in their car, they were drunk as skunks and she remembered Harry racing over and Y/n’s whose eyes were glassy with worry and he actually rubbed her arm. Then he drove them both to the party and made sure they were okay the whole night. He’d made her feel safe then too.

He rubbed her wrist, almost the same as that night at school. His thumb stroked it softly, as his eyes darted from hers to Peter who was still there. Covered in a milky pink drink, and swearing angrily.

Harry made his way over to him and grabbed him by the collar, in a rush of anger. He was bursting with anger and Y/n watched him surprised in her spot by the waitresses. She watched silently, expecting Harry to just tell him off. But he did more than that, Harry’s fist connected with Peter’s face and it made a slap, and he fell back onto the counter of the register with a bang.

His nose was bleeding upon the impact.

“If you ever touch her again I’ll fucking kill you. You hear me?” The calmness of his tone was actually chilling and Y/n felt herself tense up. Harry pushed him again. She knew if she let him he’d stay and pummel him for the rest of the night.

She walked over quickly and grabbed his arm softly. “C’mon, let’s just go. Can’t beat his awfulness out of him.”

“‘Can try.” He replied but ultimately he listened, pulling her into his side and they both apologised to the staff as they exited the restaurant. Harry’s hand slid into hers and she followed him to his car it was raining bad, big fat droplets hitting their faces as they walked steadily to the car. He opened the door for her and she slid in, he shut it when she was all tucked inside. The rain was coming down heavily and when he plopped in beside her he didn’t start the car, his hair was drenched and his eyelashes were thick with water. His face had turned soft again. He watched her for a beat. “Are you sure you're okay? I can go murder him if you want.”

She was silent for a second before turning to face him, she looked beautiful even with her frown. “Harry’s it’s fine. Can you just take me home?”

He nodded. She looked tired and frustrated, and in turn, this upset him. Y/n was too sweet to be treated like this. He wouldn’t let anything like that happen to her when he was around. He’d take care of his girl. The drive to Y/n’s house from the burger place really wasn’t far and she normally would’ve walked home if not for this heavy downpour of rain, and she had wanted Harry to be the one to comfort her. When Harry’s car pulled up outside the front of the house she looked over at him.

He was waiting for her to say she’d call him later and kiss his cheek but she didn’t. She looked up at him and sighed, bringing her hand up to push a loose curl away from his forehead.

“You wanna come up?” She asked.

He smiled. “You sure?”

She smiled bigger. “Yeah, come on.”

He turned the engine of the car off and just as Y/n went to open the door he said, “Wait.”

She listened, watching as he bolted out of his side of the car to go to her side and open the door for her. She giggled at the gesture. Harry really wasn’t what people thought.

He held his hand out for her to grab and she grabbed it as he helped her step down. The rain was heavy but neither of them seemed to care all that much considering they were both already soaking, and walked slowly up to her door. His hand was warm in hers and she shivered into his side. The rain had brought a chill to the air that nipped at her skin.

She unlocked the door and stepped inside pulling him in with her. The house was nice and warm, they’d been lucky enough to have an old fireplace still built in. It warmed the front rooms and meant their heating bill was much less since they only had to take care of a few small rooms. Harry followed her down the hall.

This was the second time he’d been here, so now he knew where her room was he followed less nervously. The house was practically empty tonight beside from a few people in the living room and kitchen. Everyone must’ve been at one of the frat parties. She opened her bedroom door and they kicked off their shoes and socks that had gotten all soggy.

Y/n shrugged her small pink coat off and put it over her desk chair. Harry stayed sort of stagnant behind her. Running his fingers through his hair.

“Are y'cold, H?” She asked gripping the hem of her top, her back was facing him as she lifted it off. Revealing her lacy pink bra and bare back.

He felt his eyes widen and cheeks heat up. She yanked her jeans down and revealed a pink g-string that matched. It had bows on it, and it was all girly and pretty. Suddenly the wholesome urge to take care of her turned back into something a bit less wholesome. His cock twitched as she bent down to take her socks off. He had a great view of her plush perfect body. His hands flexed by his sides, and he looked down at his feet, did she want him to look?

She turned around running a hand through her hair, “Styles? You okay?”

She looked like a fucking dream.

He nodded looking up. “I- Yeah,”

She giggled. “What’s wrong?”

He rolled his eyes sighing, a smile remaining on his face. His cheeks had dusted in a soft pink that was unusual for him and only made Y/n more inclined to tease him. Roles reversed.

“Don’t play all dumb, you know you're fucking gorgeous. And I can’t exactly concentrate when you look at me like that.”

She walked closer to him as her hands slid under his hoodie and thick cotton t-shirt, hands grazing his skin. Her hands were cold, and he hissed slightly but made no movements to step back.

“Like what?” Her eyelashes fluttered up at him.

“Like that.” His hands slid around her back and down to cupping her ass in his big hands and bringing her closer to him. Their height difference had him bending down, ready to scoop her up into his arms.

She moved her hands onto his shoulders and pushed herself up on the tips of her toes, lips close to his. “Kiss me.”

He leaned down connecting their lips together. She pulled him closer, whispering against his lips. “‘M cold.”

He leaned into her touch, she was gripping him tightly against herself. He pulled his arms away from her to lift his jumper off. She gripped the hem of his t-shirt and pulled that off too. His tattoos filled her vision and she wanted to bite and suck and lick and touch every single one of them. God, he was just gorgeous. And honestly, being able to kiss him was more pleasurable than any other experience she’d ever had. Kissing him alone was something she could do for hours. When Harry just looked at her that alone was more breathtaking than anything any other boy had done. To have him here in her room, kissing her, holding her, well it was everything she’d ever dreamed of. If her fourteen-year-old self knew she’d probably faint, scream, cry, and go into shock.

Her hands slid to his hips and gripped the button of his jeans, as his hands found her cheeks and kissed her again. She yanked them down a little bit revealing the fern tattoos she loved so much. She remembers him posting on his Instagram when he’d gotten them, Y/n practically choked on her water when she saw them. He was just walking sex. She wasn't any better than him, completely filthy in that head of hers.

He started walking forward and leading her back to her bed. She sat down on the mattress eyes wild looking up at him. His bulge was right in her eye-line and she smiled up at him, and she grabbed him to join her. He slotted in perfectly into her arms and his hips pressed into the thin string that was covering herself. He wasn’t ashamed that his cock was already growing in size in his pants, and he gently pressed it against her in hopes of some relief to his aching balls.

She sighed breathily into his mouth at the weight of him on top of her, she kept pulling him even closer. Their chests pressed into each other, and Harry was so warm, and Y/n was so soft. He could’ve stayed like that all night, in her arms.

He pecked her lips one last time as he pulled away to kiss along her chest. The little necklace she always wore that Emma had bought her was around her neck. It was the first letter of her name. His finger ran along it, stroking her upper chest.

“Should get a H.” He said before nibbling into the plush flesh of her tits. They were so warm and soft against his face. If he wasn’t so needy for her he’d just rest against them and sleep, smelling her delicious scent of that clean soft scent she always smelt of, it was so comforting to him.

She smiled and softly ran her hands through his hair, her legs were still wrapped around his back. “Why?”

He looked up, and suddenly all those emotions of jealousy and protectiveness were back rushing through him and making his hands squeeze her hips tightly. “So people know you're mine.”

This shocked her a bit and Harry was nervous for a second, he had revealed quite a bit of feelings in that moment and distracted himself with her neck. Kissing along her sweet-smelling skin. His lips were so gentle against her like he was afraid she’d break.

“And then what would you wear to show who you belong to Styles?” She said. Her voice was raspy and breathy from his kisses. His head snapped up and he smirked wickedly.

“Well, why don’t you mark m’back with your nails like last time, and leave some bruises on m’neck until we can come up with a permanent solution?”

She smiled and felt her pussy throb at the thought. After the last time Harry was between her legs she’d ended up with bruises on her thighs, hickeys everywhere, and she was so sore it hurt to sit all day. She’d told him one night on the phone and he’d lost his mind over it. Loved the idea of Y/n being marked up from him, sore from their sex, unable to sit without thinking of him.

"Sound good, Princess?"

“Okay.” She replied content with his answer. Her lips formed in a pouty kissy face and he came up to press his into hers for a long peck, she smiled when he pulled away. How could he be so cocky and rude but also so soft all at once? He moved his way back down her body and kissed her hips sucking a spot into her left hip. His hand rubbed her stretch marks along there and kissed over the now bruised mark he’d made.

He moved further down until his mouth was right against her pussy. His nose brushed against the material as he looked up at her. “Gonna let me take care of you?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He smiled. “You’re such a good girl f’me. Perfect lil' thing.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

He loved when she slipped into that state of submission and obedience because normally, despite her calm presence, she basically never let Harry have anything without being teased. She was a bit of a brat to him, which turned him on an unfathomable about.

He pulled her knickers off and threw them to the side. As he spread her legs even further apart he moved one of her thighs to rest on his shoulder and the other he pushed forward toward her tummy, practically folding her in half. His ring-covered fingers gripped them and he leaned in close to her. The lips of her were like petals of a flower, splayed out and dewy. Her clit was puffy and swollen in arousal like the bud of a flower. He brought his free hand forward and circled her clit softly. Her hips squirmed into his hand and he heard her let out a shaky breath.

“Ah,” She gasped when he leaned in closer and his breath hit her dripping pussy. It was cool and shiver-inducing and she could practically see his smile, even though her eyes had made their way shut.

He placed a gentle kiss on her clit and her hands moved to his hair quickly. “Please.”

He was teasing her and he loved the reaction it pulled from her. Now that they’d already been together once there was a certain familiarity in this. He knew what she liked and he was ready to explore things that he hadn’t already. Including taking his time and eating her out like he’d been thinking about since he was probably fourteen.

He looked up at her, her lips were in a pout of frustration. “What’s got you pouting, Princess?”

“Want you t’help me, Harry.”

“You can beg better than that, Y/n.”

“Please, Daddy.”

“Please what, Baby?”

“Please taste me, Daddy. Need your mouth. Want it.”

He smirked looking up at her. “‘Atta girl.”

She felt her clit throb at his raspy words. He leaned forward and licked a long stripe of her slick up into his mouth. She tasted tangy and sweet just like he’d imagined. His mouth watered at the taste, and he smirked. Once he’d tasted her he knew he wouldn’t be able to tease her any longer. He started moaning and grunting into her and the vibrations of it had her mewling and tugging on his hair.

“Fuck.” She cried out, neck arching into the pillow.

He was acting like a starved man and sucking onto her clit with such a hunger that it startled her. She hadn’t expected him to be so wild and good at it. She knew he was good, but Jesus, she was already feeling so much pleasure within mere minutes. He was suckling into her bud like a bee on a honeysuckle flower, all headily. The sweet nectar spilled onto his tongue as he kissed her lips, and practically devoured her whole. She was already feeling dreamy with the pleasure, floating with lust.

As he began to speed his tongue up and get more sloppy with his languid movements, she gained less control of her body. Her legs tried to shut on him and they were beginning to shake softly, he gripped them tighter and split her open for him.

His tongue lapped up the slick that was leaking out of her hungrily, and as he slipped his tongue near her weeping hole she let out a particularly loud whine and her back arched off the mattress. “Fuckin’ hell, feels good, Daddy.”

He pulled away for a breath looking up at her, rubbing his thumb over her clit in slow hard circles that had her eyes welling with tears of pleasure. “Yeah, sucha’ good girl letting Daddy eat this little pussy.”

She was bucking her hips and squirming under his tight grip. He could tell she was getting close as she ground against his face, her moans were getting louder and more desperate. Her slick was dribbling down his chin and he was moaning every few licks. He’d taken to rubbing his cock against the edge of the mattress for some relief, and Y/n coming on done from his touch was too much for him to stay still. He needed to relieve himself. Or he’d come his boxers, which he thought we be a bit pathetic. He wanted to prove to her how good he could be with her, how he liked to take his time when he could. But his neediness was making him have a little less control than he liked.

He continued eating her pussy with such a raw animalistic frenzy that her orgasm washed over quickly, taking her by complete surprise. Her tummy filled with waves of pleasure that shot all through her body as her muscles tensed and her pussy throbbed, she could feel herself clamping down onto his tongue as he groaned.

When she came it was with a desperate, soft, cry of his name. “Fuck, Harry.” She said, shutting her eyes and gripping his hair. “‘M cumming.”

“Cum for me, angel.”

She did. Hard. She felt like she had no control of her body as Harry talked her through her orgasm encouragingly. “That’s it, good girl.”

He’d slipped his fingers inside with ease and began curling against her. She felt herself fall back limp into the sheets as he continued licking and thrusting his fingers inside of her, and her hands moved to his hair once again pulling on it. Her mouth was loose-lipped and she found it hard to keep herself quiet now.

“Oh, fuck, Daddy,” She said breathlessly, all soft and quiet. It made him smile as he looked up at her, slick coating his lips.

“Gonna be a good girl and let me make you cum again?”

She nodded biting her lip. “Mhm.” She said before throwing her head back when his fingers hit that soft spot inside her that she couldn’t reach with her own fingers. It made her melt and shake.

Harry noticed her reaction and smirked to himself. “Found it.”

As she watched him from between her thighs, his head bobbed and the muscle of his arms flexed, he was pinning her to the bed so that he could keep going. Her second orgasm found itself much easier, it took Harry a few kisses and rubs against her clit along with his fingers pounding into her until she came.

Her legs moved to shut around his head and her nails were scratching along his shoulders and back. She kept repeating the words, “Please, Daddy.” Over and over, until.

“Oh, I think you’re gonna make me cum again.”

He kept his steady pace and sloppy kisses going, pulling away only to say. “Cum for Daddy, pretty girl,”

And she did. It was like his words had complete control over her. The ball growing in her tummy snapped and rushed through her. This time her whole body shook as she gripped onto his arms in support, she felt this release like a tidal wave.“Fuck, fuck, fuck,”

The tightness of her muscles flexing and her body shaking had her spent. She had never come so hard, and it for so long. It was a few minutes before she finally felt the pleasure subside to something more easy to take.

She was mewling and babbling all drunken from her orgasm. “Jesus, H.”

He helped her through her second orgasm, kissing along her hips and thighs to give her swollen clit a chance to rest. When she finally came down from the peak of her orgasm, she went limp again, eyes shut, and for a moment there she couldn’t hear or see anything. She could only feel him. Feel what he’d made come over her.

When she looked down at him he’d pulled his fingers out only a few centimetres away and his mouth was damp. His chin was covered in slick and as she began to take in his appearance. His neck and the top of his chest was dripping. She was confused for a second, it couldn’t be sweat. Despite their intense state, she knew he couldn’t be sweating that much. And then she realised.

“Oh, I squirted, sorry.” She said embarrassed trying to shut her legs. He looked at her like she was crazy moving back up so that his hips were between her thighs.

“Sorry? What are you on about? You squirted f’me, and you looked beautiful doing it too. Absolutely nothing to be sorry about.”

She smiled, still feeling shy and blushy. She’d squirted on his dick before, but certainly not his face. She hadn’t expected it to feel so good. “Thank you for making me cum.”

He smiled, and despite his rotten mouth and dominant cocky rough edges, in that moment he looked all soft and gooey and truthfully the fact he got to see Y/n so soft and vulnerable around him made him eternally soft for her. He wanted to see her like this all the time. Red-faced, pouty lips, eyes glassy in pleasure, and words slurring from complete satisfaction. Something only he got to see.

He wanted to be the only person who got her to squirt all over his face. Wanted to be the only one to taste her sweet little pussy. He wanted to be the only man for her. He felt so possessive over her like a kid not wanting to share his favourite toy. But he knew at the end of the day, it was always going to be her decision who she was with.

But Y/n thought that over the years it was pretty damn obvious who she wanted.

Harry was the only one for her.

She wasn’t in some other boy's bed tonight, she was with him right now, running her nails softly along his arms despite how needy they both were for each other. She was slow with her touches like they had all the time in the world because really they did.

It was raining so heavily outside, the wind was howling wildly rustling all the trees nearby, and the thunder roared above them. The shelter her little room provided them with was perfect, and it felt like all time ceased to exist. The sky had turned dark and so had their eyes, her room was almost pitch black, and they were both so warm and close. Skin to skin.

Y/n was right here, naked, and waiting for him.

Things weren’t so bad after all.

He placed a soft long kiss on her lips and she could taste herself on his tongue. Things tonight felt different than the first time, although Harry was fueled and fiery with jealousy and he wanted to take her roughly, it all felt more intimate.

His hands moved to her hips squeezing the plush flesh and running his hands over the stretch marks that decorated her skin. Every inch of Y/n was beautiful, and he’d never thought that before about anyone. He’d never seen someone's hands and thought what absolutely beautiful hands they had, or what beautiful teeth they had, or how cute their ears were. There wasn’t a part of her body that he wouldn’t worship.

To him, she was the picture image of beauty.

The kiss deepened as he rolled them over. His head rested where hers just had, and he could feel the warmth her body had left behind. She sat right up against his cock, and she could feel him throbbing against her. His old thin boxers left little room for him to hide his aching want. He was honestly rock hard, watching her cum twice, feeling her, tasting her. It had him so hard he could’ve cried.

Her tits were right in his eyeline, all soft and full. He took one into his mouth sucking on her sensitive nipple, and enjoying the loud whine she let out. His hands had fallen to her ass now, and she’d taken to grinding against his clothed cock. He could feel the wetness of her leaking down onto his boxers and he wanted to stuff her full. Despite her two orgasms, Y/n was still managing just fine on top of him.

She pulled back just slightly so she could grip the hem of his boxers and tug them off. His cock sprang up against his tummy, and even though she’d seen it before she’d probably never get used to how fucking big and gorgeous his cock was. The pink ruddy tip that glistened in precum, his long veiny shaft, that girthiness he had. God she could stare at it for hours, she thinks he is beautiful in the way those ancient paintings of Greek gods were beautiful. His hair was unruly and curly and fit for a golden wreathe to sit, his body all muscular and tanned, his absolute manliness. Something about how capable he was was just enough to have her squirming her thighs.

If she was to paint him, she’d want him to look something like this. Messy, needy, and staring right at her. She moved her hand to grip his cock giving it some gentle strokes, he was hissing already. Her hands were so warm and soft, and she pursed her lips and spat down onto him, allowing her to stroke him faster.

“Such a pretty cock, Daddy.”

He let out a laugh through his moan, “Pretty?”

She nodded. “Just like the rest of you. Beautiful.”

He felt his cheeks warm in a blush. No one had ever called him that before. She was still stroking him and he felt his eyes begin to squeeze shut in pleasure. His hips rutted up into her hand a few times.

“Want to feel this pretty cock, Daddy, please,” She said, her voice in a gentle begging tone.

He opened his eyes and smiled his hand moving from her hip to her cheek stroking it with his thumb.

“Come sit on it, all yours to sit on, Princess.”

She smiled up at him, kissing his jaw and letting go of his stiffy so that she could move her legs up the bed. When she was hovering over him she placed her arms by his shoulders ready to slide onto him when he stopped her.

“Wait, condom?” He asked, kissing her nose.

She shook her head. “Wanna feel you, s’that okay?”

He felt his cock twitch at that. “Yeah, I’m clean, trust you. Want that too.”

She smiled leaning forward to place a kiss on his lips. Her hand grabbed his dick and brought it up between her slick folds, collecting the wetness. She slowly slid down onto it and felt herself stretching for him, her two orgasms allowed more room for him to glide into her easily, but no matter how wet she was his cock was always going to stretch her out.

When she’d made it halfway she looked up at him, “Y'big, sorry,”

He just pushed some hair away from her face, kissing her jaw near her ear. “Take your time.”

Eventually, she made it hilt of him, sitting down on him softly. They both let out heavy sighs at the feeling, she felt so full of him. He was so deep, she could see the bulge of him in her tummy. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder and his hands massaged her thighs softly. If not for their burning desire Harry could’ve stayed just like that for hours. His back against the wall, her resting against him, cock all warm inside her. It was perfect.

She eventually lifted her head up and smeared their lips together in a messy gentle kiss. Her arms wrapped around his back in an embrace as she began to lift herself up and then back down slowly. The stretch starting to burn in pleasure now, and the pain subsiding. He moaned into her mouth loudly as she started to pick up a rhythm of deep hard thrusts. The tip of him was hitting that spot that had her eyes rolling back into her skull as she started to find the rhythm that was right for them both. She was going slow yet hard and deep, it had her pussy clamping down against him which was sending him up the wall.

Her pussy was to die for, so tight, and perfect around his cock. Wet and warm. He wanted to bury himself in it all hours of the day. Her lazy bounces started to pick up as she gripped his shoulders for leverage. His hands moved from her hips to her ass, gripping her tightly as he began to pump his cock up meeting her bounces. He was moaning and grunting into her neck and tits at the feel of her tight pussy, he started kissing her all over.

It was a beautiful sight, his pretty girl's tits bouncing right in front of his face, and her moaning against his cock. He couldn't help but smile, a devilish one.

“Daddy, fuck,” She swore. She was getting close again. Her previous orgasms had her so sensitive to his touch.

One of his hands came forward and began to rub messy circles against her puffy clit. She let out a whine and shut her eyes bouncing as if her life depended on it, his other hand squeezed her ass kneading it roughly, as he thrust his cock up into her pussy.

“You’re Daddy’s good girl aren’t you?”

This made her let out a particularly loud whimper.

“What was that, Princess?”

She just let out another noise of pleasure.

His hand moved up to grip her chin so she’d look at him. “Say it, Y/n. Tell me.”

“I’m your good girl, H.”

He frowned. “H?”

Her hips were stuttering on his cock and the hard rubbing against her clit. “I’m your good girl, Daddy.”

He smirked. “Who’s little pussy does this belong to?”

God, he was filthy. She fucking loved it. It’s what she’d imagined him to be liked. Raw, rough, filthy, dominant, and possessive.

She cried out as his thrusts began to speed up. She was dizzy with it all, struggling to speak.

Her voice came out hoarse and breathless. “Yours,”

“What’s mine, Y/n?”

“My pussy, it’s yours. I'm yours.”

He smirked. “Good girl, sucha' good fucking girl.”

His thrusts caused her entire body to jolt forward, as her nails scratched down his arms and she began to scream at the pleasure.

“That’s it, take Daddy’s cock,”

She gripped his arms for dear life, “Gunna’ come again. Ah, mm, fuck.”

He didn’t stop for a second and it was only a few thrusts until she was squirted all over his cock and shaking wildly. He could tell he’d fucked her hard because she was practically limp on top of him when her orgasm subsided, she was spent. Harry had ruined her. Three orgasms, three mind-blowing orgasms, she didn’t know if she could handle another.

He kissed her lips. “Good job, sweet girl.”

She smiled dazedly. “Thanks, Daddy.”

“Want me ta’ take care of ya’ now.” His voice hadn't gotten even slower, slurring from the absolute raw fuck he was having.

She nodded and he helped her off him. She fell back onto her bed, back amongst the mess that was her sheets. Her hair lay above her like a crown and he kissed her lips softly, enjoying this gentle side to her. It seems the more she came the softer she got, more clingy, handsy. He fucking loved it. He was sure his shoulders were covered in scratches from her, and his hair had been tugged about by her. He probably looked just as fucked out as her.

She was covered in a light sheen of sweat, and her lips were swollen. She looked up at him fluttering her lashes. Sexiest little thing ever, a total minx. “Want you.” She whispered. She wanted him to cum, fill her up. She'd been thinking about for years, especially lately.

He grabbed her legs spreading them far apart so he could slot in between her. He was sitting up on his knees all tall above her. Her tummy curled in anticipation and desire, he was so fucking hot. His gorgeous veiny hands touched her and those ring-covered fingers of his gripping into her flesh hard. His swirls of ink were still visible under the moonlight.

He was a sight. A pure filthy sight she wanted to hold onto in her mind forever.

“Want to fill you up, Princess.” He replied. His cock was begging for his orgasm, he’d managed to last through one of her orgasms pulsing against him, but he knew the next one would push him over the edge. He slowly slipped inside of her, and her hands found their way to his arms, gripping them hard.

He started thrusting roughly without much warning, causing her bed to shift and creak under the weight of them both. She moaned loudly, “Oh, fuck,”

With each thrust her body jolted into the bed, as she tried to find a way to control her squirming body.

He let out a hiss as his balls slapped against her ass. “Feel so good around me, sweet girl. Fuckin' perfect. Made for this cock.”

She pulled him closer so that her chest was pressed into his. His face slipped into the side of her neck and shoulder and gently kissed along there. One of her arms wrapped around his back and the other found his hand, he held hers tightly. He continued fucking into her deep, it felt so good it hurt and her hips jutted to meet his.

“‘Wanna cum, Daddy, can I?” She said softly, in a pleading tone that had his balls aching to fill her pussy up with his hot cum. He grunted pounding into her just that bit harder, this final bundle of energy he had was going toward making her finish.

She felt her tummy tightening familiarly with her orgasm. She knew that she couldn’t hold onto it much longer.

“Cum f’me please, Y/n.” He whimpered, “Be a good girl and let me feel you cum on m’cock.”

His hand held hers tightly, and this romantic intimate side of him was all too much for her, this was somehow hotter than his rough side. She loved to see him like this.

She pulled his face to hers, and they kissed as she finished. It was all teeth and tongue, noses brushing into each other, and she cried out into his mouth. He nibbled her lip and felt her clamping against him rapidly.

When he pulled back from the kiss they were breathless, each thrust had her practically crying out.

“Gonna make me cum, Y/n,” He whispered. “Where do you want me cum?”

She wrapped her legs around his hips. “Inside me, please, Daddy.”

When he made eye contact with her that’s when he finally orgasmed. The thrusts of his hips grew sloppy with pleasure as he let out a loud moan of her name and some curses. She was scratching his arm and back softly letting him fuck her full of his cum as his pleasure subsided. He didn’t move out of her, just landed on top of her. His head resting right above her fast-beating heart. He was fucking spent.

She stroked his hair feeling nice and full of him. She could feel his cum inside her, dripping out onto his cock. He was warm and big to cuddle she loved it. He lifted his head up when he caught his breath, placing a kiss on her forehead, then her nose, then her cheeks which made her giggle, then finally her lips.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered.

“Oh, shut up Styles, I already let you fuck me, no need to butter me up now.” She teased.

He rolled his eyes, still inside her, still holding her hand. “You’ve always been beautiful, most gorgeous girl in the whole world.”

Her face turned soft, cheeks blooming in a soft dusty rose. “You’re beautiful too.”

He smiled. “Thank you.”

Eventually, he pulled out of her, she felt empty and whined at the feeling. She was so sensitive now. She honestly wouldn't have minded if he'd stayed inside her for the rest of the night.

She shut her eyes and as he sat back, he watched his cum drip out of her. It made his tummy flutter. He knows he shouldn’t be thinking this far ahead considering Y/n and him weren’t even dating. But if she got pregnant with his baby, that would be the cutest thing in the world. He cut those thoughts from his mind and stood up.

“Gonna clean y’up.” He said, walking to her bathroom. He found a cloth in there and wet it with some warm water walking over to the bed.

She opened her eyes which had turned bleary with sleepiness. She smiled tiredly over at him. He smiled back, grabbing her legs and spreading them so he could wipe her down. She whined at the touch of the cloth.

“Sorry, Baby.”

She let out another soft wince. “S’okay, worth it.”

As he stared down at her he noticed how sweaty she looked. “Wanna shower? I’ll help you. We probably should after all that rain and other stuff.”

She nodded, a small laugh leaving her mouth. “Okay, just don’t let me fall asleep and drown in there.”

He laughed. “Course not.”

He helped her up to a sitting position and she looked up at him sluggishly. “Really got me sore, H.”

He frowned. “Sorry, Angel.”

She teasingly sharpened her gaze, “You aren’t sorry, you filthy boy.”

He smirked. “‘M not sorry for taking what’s mine, I am sorry you’ll be sore tomorrow.”

She rolled her eyes. “You will be sorry when I keep complaining.”

"I'll massage you, don't worry."

He picked her up startling her, she always knew he was strong but never expected him to pick her up with such ease, and if she wasn’t totally spent she’d want to test what also he could do with those big muscles. Throw her around maybe? Fuck her standing up? She’d make a note to herself to try that later.

His hands were under bum and as he walked to the bathroom, the shower was surprisingly big and had a tiny little shelve that came out which had all her soaps and shampoos, but there was enough room for her to sit on it.

He turned the water on warm and placed her onto the sink bench. She watched him under the pale light of the bathroom. How was this the same Harry from before?

This was a soft kind man, a gentleman, hardly a frat boy dick. She didn't know where'd he been hiding this side of him. But she liked him just as much as he did the rotten-mouthed boy she knew.

In the shower he took care of her as promised, washing her hair with the lavender-scented shampoo she owned. He used some too, and he helped wash her skin with this fresh-smelling shower oil she had. Softly cleaning her sore parts and he massaged her body with such a gentleness that she melted right into his hands.

She’d never expected Harry to be one to stay and cuddle after, let alone help shower. He was so nurturing to her. It made her feelings bloom and spread through her body like wildflowers.

When they were both clean Harry even helped her dry her hair, and change into some comfy clothes. While she was brushing her teeth and putting some skincare on he fixed up her sheets and tucked himself into them. He'd put his rings in the little dish she had on her bedside table. Checking his phone to see it was late. They'd been going for a while.

When she came out in a baggy shirt that Harry had worn last time he was here, it still smelt of him, and some little black knickers he felt his heart skip a beat. She looked especially good in his clothes.

“C’mere.” He opened the duvet and she slid in beside him tiredly. He pulled her close, right in the crook of his chest, he’d decided to wear nothing to bed. Which bothered neither of them. He ran hot, especially with Y/n snuggling right up against him.

Her window was open letting the heavy downpour of thunder and rain become background noise as they fell asleep. He kissed her temple, rubbing her back underneath his shirt.

“Night, Beautiful.”

She shut her eyes kissing one of the swallows on his chest. “Night, Styles.”

Sleep found them both quickly and Harry held onto her the whole night. He was completely smitten with her, the one girl he couldn’t have was the only one he wanted. Fuck. They were so screwed.

PART THREE???????

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stylesharrys · 8 days

Text

the special herb masterlist [weedrry]

welcome to the series masterlist of the special herb! this is a compilation of oneshots following weedrry and y/n every time they've gotten (accidentally) high together.

this series will include mentions and consumption of marijuana in different forms such as; weed brownies (edibles), joints, bongs, thc oils. this also contains smut -- each oneshot will have smut warnings for what is included. if these topics make you feel uncomfortable, please do not read. your mental health comes first!

(( these can be read separately or in the order listed below. ))

🍒 indicates smut.

special brownies 🍒

summary: harry and y/n accidentally eat their roommates special brownies. (2.3k)

special smokes 🍒

summary: harry and y/n struggle with their self-control after sharing a joint at niall’s house party. (3.7k)

special oils 🍒

summary: harry accidentally uses tom’s thc oil in their pasta dinner and round three begins. [coming may 3rd @ 6 pm bst]

#weedrry #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #imagine harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles angst

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rafesmuse · 2 years

Text

HP PORN LINKS > 500 celebration !! <

warning: these are twitter links that contain porn !!

thank you for 500 followers! I’ve decided to made this post since many other posts with porn links consist of links to accounts that unfortunately do not exist anymore. hopefully these accounts won’t be deleted anytime soon !

includes: draco malfoy, theo nott, harry potter, fred weasley, george weasley, ron weasley, mattheo riddle, neville longbottom, cedric diggory and tom riddle

navigation | masterlist

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ draco malfoy

roommate!draco fucking you

ceo!draco fingering you after work

naughty picnic date with draco

playing mario kart while draco fucks you

riding husband!draco on your honeymoon

thigh riding draco

mutual masturbation with draco

draco breeding you full

supporting streamer!draco from under his desk

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ theodore nott

car sex with theo

streamer!theo fucking you on his desk

best friend!theo fingering you

squirting all over theo’s cock

enemy!theo breeding you

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ harry potter

neighbor!harry coming over to fuck

giving sub!harry a handjob

car sex with harry

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ fred weasley

riding fred in the middle of the night

dom!fred spanking you

netflix & chill with best friend!fred

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ george weasley

george + breeding kink

giving gamer!george a blowjob under his desk

bathroom sex with george

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ron weasley

needy ron waking you up for a blowjob

sex with ron in his dorm room

enemy!ron fingering you

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ mattheo riddle

sitting on mattheo’s face

bestfriend!mattheo fucking you on his couch

mattheo fingering you while driving

riding roommate!mattheo

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ neville longbottom

car sex with neville

bouncing on roommate!neville’s dick

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ cedric diggory

dom!cedric showing no mercy

riding cedric in a park

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ tom riddle

dom!tom fucking you roughly with a dildo

calling with your friend while tom is fucking you

sitting on tom’s face

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harryistheonlyoneforme · 1 year

Text

Harry Styles Masterlist

Series

Ruin (complete) - in which an innocent YN goes into her very first gynaecology appointment unsure of what she should expect. her first visit is definitely not what she’d expected [gynaecologist harry]

Just A Little Taste (ongoing) - in which YN books a much needed massage appointment from someone named H. Styles. Imagine her surprise when the most beautiful man she’s ever seen arrives for her massage [masseuse harry]

One Shots

Quality Time* - in which harry and yn spend some quality time on the couch [cottage core harry]

Maison* - in which harry returns home after being away and just wants to be close to his wife [ceo harry]

Align* - in which yn is bent over doing yoga and harry wants her to stay just like that [stepdad harry]

Wake Up Call* - in which harry comes home after a long flight to a wonky ac and a wife who’s fast asleep [nhl player harry]

Restless* - yn is needy after seeing harry come home after a match, but he needs his rest [boxer harry]

Grumpy* - in which harry comes home to yn in a bad mood and makes all of those nasty feelings go away [nhl player harry]

Just One More* - in which yn is ready for a baby and harry can’t get enough [nhl player harry]

Focus* - in which yn keeps eyeing harry’s arms and he puts them to good use [dad’s best friend harry]

Little Freak*- a sneaky YN decides to tease her secret boyfriend from across the room, and Harry doesn’t like his patience tested [dads bestfriend harry] Tastes So Sweet* - Harry and YN indulge after a day out together [bestfriend harry]

Partition* - in which yn is mad at harry and he lets her take her frustrations out on him [ceo harry]

Got Me Right Where You Want Me* - YN and Harry spend a day on the golf course together, but she won’t make it easy for him [ceo harry]

Kiss in the Kitchen like it’s a Dance Floor* - Harry comes home after a long day at work and wants nothing more than to spend an evening with his wife. She never fails to remind him of how they’re perfect for each other [ceo harry]

Simplicity* - Something as simple as Harry scrolling on his phone can send a pregnant Yn into a frenzy [ceo harry]

Can’t Get You Off My Mind* - with YN’s mother out of town for the weekend, and most likely Harry, YN has decided to get a little wild. what she doesn’t know is that she should check her sources before inviting people into her home [dads bestfriend harry]

Could We Live With Just A Taste* - Harry and YN decide to make some vegan weed brownies that she saw on tiktok and end up eating way more than the recommended amount. The both of them being heavily intoxicated leads to an unexpected end to the night [plug harry]

I Don’t Wanna Talk To You* - YN shows up to Harry’s house for an impromptu visit and what she finds literally flips her upside down [cheater harry]

I Just Want What’s Mine* - Harry and YN attend a pack party, and when she decides to tease him, he shows her why she shouldn’t [werewolf harry]

Walk Through Fire For You - after a draining week at work, Harry takes it upon himself to try and make YN feel better [roommate/bestfriend harry]

subspace*

Harry fingering YN in the mirror*

Thigh riding and finger sucking*

Quickie* Part 2* [DBF Harry]

One of Harry’s employees is rude to YN without knowing who she is [CEO Harry]

pregnant reader wants to ride ceo harry*

mafia harry goes on a tampon run*

first mother’s day without yn [widower harry]

#harry styles fic rec #harry styles smut #harryistheonlyoneforme #harry styles fic #harry styles filth #dbf harry styles #harry styles #smut #harry related writings #dbf harry #masterlist #smut masterlist #dbf!harry #dadsbestfriend harry #plugrry #plug harry

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harryslittlefreakk · 4 months

Text

masterlist

* indicates smut

^ indicates angst

you can join my taglist here

and if you want to know more about me you can find out some fun facts here LOL

my requests are open :) please feel free to tell me anything you’d like to see, no idea is too wild here. 🫶🏼

late night talking (completed)

a chance meeting with harry before his wembley dates leads you into a whirlwind relationship. harry x fan!y/n

my policeman *

harry is the police officer assigned to your case, though you are inexplicably drawn to one another 🤭 age gap romance

dr. styles*

fratboy!harry is a surgical resident in your class, and he helps you to relieve some stress

the pact* part 2*

you and harry made a childhood pact to marry if you were both still single when he reached 30. now that his big birthday is approaching, you find out whether your friendship (and your pact) have stood the test of time

little angel*

a little drabble of needy y/n and dad!rry goodness, the pact extra but can be read alone

to build a home *^

buzz cut!rry and y/n spend their first new year’s together after splitting up and they look back on happier times. inspired by the song

girl crush *^

harry x bisexual bandmate y/n, based on the song

harry turns 30 *

a filthy smutty blurb about harry’s birthday 🎈💖

after the storm *^

y/n wakes up in her sworn enemies bed, with a city-wide storm keeping her trapped there. in the time that she’s stuck with harry, can they overcome their differences and build a friendship? 🫢🤷

obsessed ^

harry is your roommate, best friend … and crush 💃 he’s finally broken up with his girlfriend and you’re struggling to hide how you feel about him. loosely based on the song!!

arrogant s.o.b ^

based on this request - grumpy/mean Harry and readers first fight and he says something really harsh/yells and makes her cry? And then feels really bad after like grumpyxsunshine vibes?

#harry x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fan #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry x fan #harry x y/n #harry styles masterlist

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heliads · 1 year

Note

whilst requests are open I have an idea to put forth after years of us discussing this man. Harry Hook x reader based on 'the way I loved you' by taylor swift. Childhood friends to lovers, to strangers to lovers again mayhaps? idk babes. Love you though, I hope your requests don't get out of hand again so you can stay stress-free!

eva i love you for sending this in, please let me talk about harry hook. he's insane and i cannot get enough of him

masterlist

You are lying on your bed in a dorm room in Auradon Prep, and if you close your eyes, you can almost convince yourself that you’re somewhere else entirely. Your roommate hung a lantern in the window, and with the glass pane cracked halfway, the light sways back and forth on the ceiling, painting shifting golden silhouettes on the perfectly painted ceiling. If you let the present world fade into the corners of your consciousness, you can pretend there are flaws in the endless pristine magnificence. You could even pretend that you aren’t on the continent at all.

No daughter of a princess should ever be anywhere but in Auradon. That’s the way it should have been, but you ran the second you got the chance and ended up amongst criminals and sons of thieves instead of with other prettily polished girls. Is it a terrible thing to admit that you miss it more than anything?

You shouldn’t, that’s the worst part. You left them willingly. As time passes, though, you’re starting to think that what you thought was one great fight with the so-called lowlifes of this world might have been the greatest time of your life. It’s like fording a raging river; while you’re in the thick of the waves, you think you might drown, but when you’re safe on the dry shore again, all you can think of is the coolness of the water, how the flood had sparkled like a thousand sapphires.

You shut your eyes and then you’re back again, just a kid, happier than you’ve ever been and twice as free. It had been easy to leave, actually, easier than it should have been. In your family, there were enough siblings and cousins and relatives that just one girl could go unnoticed. It’s not that Ariel intentionally tried to blur all of her daughters together in her memory, but it couldn’t be helped. She was one of seven daughters, and you were one of many as well. It wasn’t her fault, no, but it was your excuse anyway.

It turns out that nobody bats their eyes at a mermaid’s daughter when she’s running headlong towards the surf. You dove into the waves and came up to shore miles away. Your mother was terrified of losing any one of her children to the endless sea just as her father lost her to land, so none of you were allowed to stray that close to the beach. Of course you would see how far you could go the second you were unsupervised. Of course you would push the limits just to learn where you would break.

You ended up scaring the daylights out of a boy in a small sailing craft not far from the limits of the Isle of the Lost. You hadn’t meant to go that far, but you were giddy with the feeling of doing something wrong and he was trying to escape as well. He’d offered for you to hitch a ride with him so long as the wind was good. You thought that suited you well enough, so you took the hand he gave you and listened when he introduced himself as Harry Hook.

He said his name the same way you did, emphasis on the first name and not the last. It’s the exact opposite way any child of a prince or princess does, and you think that might have been why you liked him from the start. The sun shone overhead, and you talked to him about running away and taking to the sea and all the things you wanted to do if you just had time.

Neither of you wanted to leave, not really, but of course all good things have to come to an end at some point. You watched the sun sink lower and lower in the sky with all the dread of a doomed man going to the gallows. You must have looked seriously unhappy, because you remember Harry laughing and saying that you could meet him tomorrow, if you wanted. You wanted that more than anything, as it turned out, so you eagerly agreed.

Harry took you as far as he could towards Auradon again, and watched as you dove into the water. You can still remember how he’d watched you go, the way his eyes had tracked the water as if he could look at you forever, even after you disappeared from view. He stayed there for a long time before finally forcing his ship to turn around again. You’d know; you stayed there on the ocean floor watching him back until he was gone.

The next day, you slipped away to meet him again, and the next day, and the next. When you were caught trying to go out to the sea sometime in the second month, you fought until you could find a suitable excuse. Your mother was perfectly fine to let you go to some private school by the coast, it would mean one less child to keep track of. The papers were signed and agreements made before you could so much as blink.

You, of course, never went to that school. Instead, you showed up on Harry’s ship just like usual and told him that you wouldn’t be going back. Harry had been talking about a friend of his, Uma, and how she was forming a crew of her own larger pirate ship. You wanted in, and he couldn’t be more delighted to take you home.

You think you replayed the memory of him introducing you to Uma about a thousand times over in your head, and you’ll do it again tonight. The slats of the dock had been slippery under your feet, but you knew that so long as he was by your side, you would never once fall. Uma had looked at you questioningly, blue-green hair cascading down her shoulders, but Harry had hardly been able to tear his eyes away from you.

“This is Y/N,” he’d said, “she’s my friend.” He’d imbued the word with all the hope and grief and joy you could ever possibly attach to such an idea. Harry smiled as he said it, took your hand, let his eyes open comically wide so you’d know he was just joking when he mentioned that he’d jump overboard if Uma didn’t take you on.

Luckily for him, Uma had no problems with you. She saw something in you, the same sort of restless troublemaking spirit the rest of them had in spades. Before you knew it, you were quite literally learning the ropes of how to help out on Uma’s ship.

From there on out, everything was perfect. You watched the sun rise and set from the deck of a ship you could call home. When the weather was good, you spent all night and day out in the grasp of the world, and when the storms raged on, you hid belowdecks with the best friends you’d ever had. They wanted you, not your mother in a younger form, but you. Just you. It was wonderful.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that you would end up falling in love with Harry. You were hurtling towards that fate as fast as you could, running and sprinting towards the inevitability of it all. No one compared. No one had half as much influence over you as him. And, when he finally managed to tell you how he felt, you thought you might be able to take over the entire world with the sheer force thrumming through your veins.

Perhaps you should have taken that as a warning. The universe doesn’t care much for happy endings, you’ve learned, even for its fairytale heroes. Princesses grow old and fade into obscurity. Princes forget how to save the day. Villains live out their days with fantastic dreams that will never be achieved. You learn how to deal with adequacy, and pretend that it is enough for you.

You loved Harry because he was wild, your untamed, brilliant boy, but then you hated him for it, too. Just once, you wanted to walk into a room and know what he was going to say before he said it. Every word from his mouth was a dagger in your chest. Some days, he was a hopeless romantic, others, he was mad and uncontrollable. He never hurt you, but at least the pain of a blow would be something you could depend on and understand.

Your mother tried to find you about a year or two after you took to the sea, and you used that as your excuse to break up with him. Harry found out you would be returning to Auradon at the exact same time as the rest of the crew. You think he might hate you for it still. You think he would have reason to hate you for a lot, actually, most importantly that you were never quite enough to match him.

So you slipped away from the ship with the worst kind of goodbye, one that you did not mean, and you never looked back. You greeted your mother and agreed when she said that it was time you took up your studies at Auradon Prep. You joined the endless number of would-be princesses and princes and pretended that it was all you had ever needed in life. If you woke up sometimes with the sound of waves crashing in your ears, or felt the steady rock of a ship beneath your feet as you dreamt, you ignored it. Such illusions only belong to the past, and they will never be yours again.

You still have a jacket of his in the corner of your room; you brought it all the way over here, anywhere you go. You never had the heart to give it back. You don’t know that you could if you tried. It still smells like saltwater and laughter and sun-bleached him, and you have absolutely no idea what you will do when that familiar scent fades.

Still, you weren’t able to completely erase his influence on you. Children of villains arrived at Auradon Prep, and instead of running away from them, you befriended them as quickly as you could. Mal thinks like you do, her and the rest. You laugh like them– not quite as polite as you should be, but loud and beautiful and real. You hang out with them all the time and, when they talk about how much they wish they were back on the Isle of the Lost, you lie to yourself that you do not agree.

You never told them the full scope of your exploits, but they know part of it, enough that one day Mal knocks at your door and tells you that she needs your help on a pirate ship. She needs to get something from the Isle of the Lost, a mysterious ingredient for a spell, but they have to keep it a secret so they can’t use the bridge. The next best option, then, is to sail. It’s not a far destination, so it would work.

A thousand memories of sun and surf flash through your head, and you find yourself agreeing before Mal can so much as finish trying to convince you to go along with her plan.

Mal blinks in surprise. “Really? You’re sure? I thought you would have mixed feelings about that time in your life.”

You breathe out slowly, trying to calm yourself. “Certain things scare me more than others.” Certain people, that is.

Mal winces as she leads you out of your dorm and back into the hallway. “Actually, we might have a problem with that.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

Mal casts you a nervous glance. “Before I continue, remember that you already agreed. I’m not letting you leave now.”

You laugh. “I’m starting to get worried. No, Mal, I’m not backing out. Just tell me already.”

Mal holds up her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. Never doubted you for a second. It’s just, well, we don’t have a ship at our disposal, obviously, so we’re borrowing one from Uma.”

You shrug. “I have no problem with that. Uma’s great.”

“Yeah,” Mal says, drawing out her syllables in an attempt to buy herself time, “but she insisted on having a skeleton crew present. You know, to make sure we wouldn’t run aground or something like that. That includes her first mate.”

Your head snaps up. “Harry’s going to be there?”

You can feel Mal’s gaze on you, but you refuse to look at her. Instead, you’re scanning the hallway, every door you pass, sure that he’s going to be waiting for you, leaning casually against a wall or peering out of a window or somewhere you could find if you just looked hard enough.

“He is,” Mal confirms, “is that going to be an issue?”

Yes. “No, I’ll be fine.”

You can’t really tell if Mal believes you or not, but then you’re rounding the corner and the rest of the VKs are in front of you, and the conversation must be dropped as Mal explains her plan. You’re going to join the four of them and Uma’s guys in piloting the ship over to the Isle of the Lost, where you’ll search for a talisman hidden somewhere on the island. Once the talisman is secured, you’ll head back. Easy as that.

Mal leads your group to a boathouse on the southern part of the shore. You take up a position in a corner of the room, hidden by the shadows. You suppose that’s why the pirates don’t see you immediately when they come in a matter of minutes later. You suppose you chose that place on purpose so you could get a good look at Harry without him seeing you.

He looks just the same. You don’t know why you thought he would change, that he would have to look different to explain how different you feel, but he’s the same. It makes a soft smile rise to your lips at the same time as the weight of all your memories pierces you through the heart.

Uma’s talking to Mal, doubt lacing her every word. “I hope you have a good idea of how to run a ship, because I don’t think any of your friends have the slightest clue what to do on the sea. That’s my territory, in case you forgot.”

“I know,” Mal says, temper just as strong as always, “that’s why I brought a friend.”

Harry arches a brow. “What friend?”

“That would be me,” you say, and step out of the shadows to face him.

For a moment, you swear that time stands still. Harry’s breath catches in his chest as he looks at you for the first time in months. He has never been one to show off weakness, always laughing off injury or claiming not to feel pain, but in this instant, you can see the shock lancing through his eyes, wracking his frame until he has no choice but to stand there and stare.

Uma breaks the silence, wrapping an arm around your shoulders with a grin. “Y/N, good to see you! I take it back, Mal. Y/N could captain a fleet of ships with her eyes closed.”

It’s easy, after that, to pull yourself together. Uma’s friendship is something familiar, a rock you can stand on. “I appreciate your confidence,” you reply, “good to see you too, by the way.”

“Of course,” Uma says dismissively, then adds somewhat unnecessarily, “Hey, Harry, look who it is!”

Harry swallows hard when Uma addresses him, tries to pretend he’s just like normal. “Yeah, I saw. Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey yourself,” you say quietly.

Evie looks at you nervously, then quickly speaks up. “So, should we get to the ship? We only have so much time before people start looking for us.”

Uma rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you guys are too popular, I get it. Ship’s docked outside.”

Harry takes this as his excuse to bolt out, and you watch him go with wide eyes. Evie heads over to you as soon as everyone’s attention is off you again. “Hey, is everything alright?”

“Perfectly fine,” you whisper back through gritted teeth. Of course it is a lie. You couldn’t be more affected by this.

You avoid Harry the entire duration of the trip over to the Isle of the Lost. It’s difficult, especially when you push off from the shore and the wind is on your face again and everything is just like you remember. You tug a few lines into place, tie them down with the knots he taught you, and race to the bow as soon as you’re free.

You forgot just how wonderful it is to sail. You laugh delightedly as the ship picks up speed, skipping over the waves as the wind snaps the sails almost to bursting. This close to the surface of the water, you can’t hear anything, but you sense something anyway, and that’s how you know to lean back up and look to your side to see Harry standing there, smiling as he takes in the sight of you.

Your laugh dries up in a moment and you feel frozen there, trapped in this moment with him. Someone calls your name a second later and you’re able to spirit away to safety, but you can still feel his gaze burning like a brand into your back every moment until the ship docks at the Isle.

Mal announces that you’ll be splitting up in pairs so you can properly canvas the island for the talisman. Before you can look at her or Evie, Uma suggests that you and Harry work together, and the rest are already partitioned into pairs before you can fight it.

Fine, then. You’re certain he’s put her up to this, but you won’t give him a scene if he wants it. Instead, you march resolutely towards your assigned location, and pretend that you’re just really invested in finding the talisman so you can’t hear him when he tries to talk to you.

Eventually, Harry has enough and puts his hand on your arm, trying to get your attention. You spin back around by reflex, dagger in hand and held to his throat before Harry can get so much of a word out. The Isle has always brought out a different part of you, more of a villain than any princess’ daughter.

Instead of looking afraid, Harry just laughs. Usually, this is the time at which you’d join in, but you narrow your eyes and hold strong.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he says when he’s finally able to get his laughter under control, “I don’t think your friends would like it very much if you killed someone on your little vacation to the island.”

You glare at him. “We’re not friends anymore, sweetheart, or have you forgotten that already?”

“When your knife is to my throat? Couldn’t forget that if I tried. Out of curiosity, why are we enemies again? I seem to remember you liking me very well just a couple of months ago.” Harry says, reaching up to tap your forearm where you still hold your blade.

You pull your dagger away but stand there still, thrumming with the urge to run. “We’re too different. You’re a villain, and I’m a perfect angel, obviously.”

Harry grins. “What, just because you’re the daughter of a princess? You’ve never let that come in between us before. You’re not Ariel, you’re Y/N, and I have always loved that about you.” Something like doubt flickers across his face. “Is that why you left? You thought you had to become more like her?”

You glance away from him, suddenly unable to look him in the eyes. “I left because I had to. We weren’t working out.”

“Why not?” Harry asks, and suddenly he’s the one in control now, he’s the one stepping forward until your back hits the wall and you have nowhere to run, “What was so wrong with us, Y/N?”

Your hands are shaking. Harry takes the knife from you, carefully sliding it back in the holster on your side. His hands linger there a second longer, and when he finally takes them away, you can’t tell if you’re glad of it or deeply unhappy that you can no longer feel him.

“We could never work,” you insist.

“Why not?” He replies, “Show me we could never work. Prove me wrong.”

Harry Hook has always been somewhat of an enigma to you, just as unpredictable as the sea that both of you love, but somehow you know it’s coming when Harry leans forward and kisses you. For a moment, you consider pushing him away, and then you realize that you do not hate this, not him, not in the slightest, not at all.

Surrender is not the worst thing in the world. Sometimes it’s like the release of a sail to the wind, the acceptance that even though you let a person go, they will always come back to you. You surrender the last of your inhibitions and you kiss him back. It is everything you missed, the fighting and the laughing, the good times and the bad all in one. It is all that you love about him and more, what you didn’t realize you held most dear until you were gone.

Harry breathes quietly against your lips and you breathe back, one small circle of in and out and together. He grins, says, was that really so bad? And you laugh and tell him to shut up, so he does, but only by kissing you again. The island can wait, the talisman and the life waiting back for you at school. You have your boy back, and you could not care about anything else.

requested by @thatfangirl42, i hope you enjoy!

disney tag list: @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @/thatfangirl42, @amortensie

#harry hook #harry hook imagines #harry hook x reader #harry hook oneshot #descendants #descendants imagines #descendants x reader #descendants oneshot #disney #disney imagines #disney x reader #disney oneshot #descendants harry #descendants harry imagines #descendants harry x reader #descendants harry oneshot

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jarofstyles · 6 months

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Indigo- Sapphire

Hello my loves, here they are! Your favorite tattoo artist and his girlie. Let me know what you think plz plz plz

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Warnings- tattooing, mention of anxiety and needles etc

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Y/N had a lot of thoughts.

The first one was that tattoos hurt, yes, but in a different way than she had originally thought. Harry had been right in telling her it was more so uncomfortable than anything else, because while it wasn’t a sharp, blazing pain, it was dull. Throbbing. Like she was being scratched by her cat in the same spot. It was bearable, though. Way less discomfort than she had thought. It was nice to feel capable, to not worry that she was going to embarrass herself in front of Harry.

Which brought her to thought number two.

Harry was stupidly, ridiculously, infuriatingly gorgeous.

Y/N had been peeping at him as they spoke, his eyes glued to the piece as he spoke which gave her more of a sense of comfort. Like she was getting away with staring. It would be hard not to with him up so close to her, his warmth radiating through the plastic-y gloves. The first thing she had noticed was how nice his hair was. A warm chestnut hue with some natural caramel highlights- at least, she was pretty sure they were natural. It was longer and curled, little ringlets near his ears making her fingers itch to tuck it back for him. It was clipped up in the front, and that made sense considering he had a habit of running his hand through his hair, but she wanted to see it down again. The full effect.

In another way, she was happy that it was pulled out of the way because she could really get a good look at him. His jaw was sharp, but not so much that it was necessarily stone like. He looked like a statue, but one that was carved with the human likeness that made people feel uneasy. His cheeks were high and his brows were straight, not a ton of arch to them, but he kept himself well groomed. There was a tiny hint of stubble on his upper lip along with a cute little birthmark that she hadn’t noticed before. That had brought her attention to his mouth.

It was almost embarrassing, how distracted she had gotten watching his lips move while he talked. They were a raspberry pink, slightly wet from his habit of occasionally licking over the bottom one before starting a sentence. A pronounced cupid’s bow dipped in the middle of the top, making her want to trace it. They were a little bigger than she had normally noticed, but then again- she didn’t typically spend this much time observing a man in such detail.

He had a few blemishes, a few cuts that looked like he may have gotten himself while shaving, but it just made him human. Reminded her that he was just like her in that way. Just… gorgeous. His eyelashes were something she was incredibly jealous of, the irritating trait of men getting the good eyelashes striking yet again. She had to wonder how they’d look if he used her lengthening mascara? A wandering thought to think about later.

They’d been chatting about this and that, a bit of gossip about Niall and his new girlfriend who he had recently introduced to the group, some about her work, some about his. What really caught her off guard though, was how easy it was to talk to him.

Silences aren't awkward. Sometimes they fell into them and it stayed that way for a moment before moving on naturally and she didn’t feel like crawling out of her skin. Y/N had a bad habit of wanting to fill those silences so she would babble, and considering she still had a decent amount of nerves because her crush on Harry was growing in size by the minute, she really liked this detail. He was being sweet and inquisitive without prying all that much, asking the basic friend questions- and some odd ones.

What’s your favorite color? His was Yellow, he responded.

Did she have any pets? No, her old roommate did and she catsits sometimes. He didn’t, but he wanted one.

What was her favorite gift she got as a kid? A knock off barbie dreamhouse. She hadn’t cared that it wasn’t the same as the rest of her friends, her mom had been so happy to give it to her that it had become the most cherished thing. She had it in her attic to this day for her future kids, should she choose to have any. His was a high quality art set.

Did she believe in the paranormal? Yes, she did. He was undecided. A healthy skeptic, he’d said.

It was lighthearted but also not necessarily small talk, which usually made Harry itch. He’d confessed that earlier to her, making her see a bit further into him. It was obvious that he was curious about some of the things about her and considering what had happened the night before, she had to wonder what the intention was.

He had said he got nervous around her because she was so pretty it intimidated him. That he said and did stupid things when he was around a girl like her. Insinuating maybe a returned crush? Confirming it? She didn’t know. She also didn’t know what he wanted out of this. Was it going to turn into a nice friendship where they laugh about his crush on her later on down the line, or would this develop into something more?

Y/N didn’t want to get ahead of herself. They’d just started talking, but having been repressed from allowing herself to feel that attraction to him, it had just hit her like a truck. He was so sweet, so gentle with her. The opposite of what people may assume about his exterior. When they went out, despite how charming he was, he was quiet most of the time. Outside their friend group, she had seen him revert back into a cool mask, stony and giving the impression that people shouldn’t come up to him. Not quite as intense as the one he had worn with her but enough for her to see that his resting face definitely gave him the reputation he had. Sometimes she wished she had that ability, considering all sorts of people came up to her to talk when she didn’t even know them.

If this was the real him, the one who had theorized with her if ghosts were real, she wanted to know more about him.

“How are you doing?” He had stopped to wipe some excess ink, looking up at her from the stool.

Harry had felt her staring. It had become increasingly harder to keep his cool when he’d thought about it, so he had tried his best to focus on the piece. It was easier said than done. He could feel her eyes scanning him, seeing it from the corner of his eye. It intimidated him. Him out of all people! That’s how he knew this was actually deep for him. Sure, he had crushes before. It was just- Y/N made him feel a lot of new things to him, and that’s why he had fumbled so hard early on.

This was her first tattoo and she had entrusted him with it. His art was currently inked on to her skin and the linework was done, finally moving on to shading. She’d taken it like a champ, sitting better than a lot of other people did. There had been no squirming, no complaining, just a request to move her arm a bit which he had happily done. Her skin took the ink well, the lines standing out against the tone of it. Still, he wanted to check in again.

“I’m good.” Her tiny smile came up again. It flipped his stomach. “Great, actually. I expected it to hurt a lot worse. I mean, it isn’t great but I wasn’t sure how my pain tolerance was going to hold up. It was just like you said, the scratches!” There was a bit of babbling from her, making his own lip quirk up. Too fucking cute.

“Great. You’re doing fantastic. I’ve had veterans sit in my chair and bitch about it hurting, so you’ve got them beat.” He knocked her knee with his hand before moving to switch out the needles. “M’gonna switch to doing a bit of shading now. This is going to feel a tiny bit different but let me know if you need a break again.” Eyes looked towards her water bottle he had given her sitting between her legs. “And take a sip of that, please.”

Y/N gave a little salute, nodding to him and doing as asked as he switched the things out. It was little cute things like that salute that made him want to cuddle into her. She was just stupidly fucking adorable and he had now gotten to a point where he was seeing deeper parts of her personality. It drove him mad. He had to pace himself, aware that not even 24 hours ago she had been nervous around him for a completely different reason.

The new set was finished being set up, Harry turning back towards her when he heard the water bottle crinkle again. Holding it up, she shook it slightly to show that she had drank down to another divet in the bottle, making him chuckle quietly. “Good job, sweetheart.” He praised, gloving up. “Thank you for listening t’me. Now we have to get started so we can get proper food in your stomach.”

Y/N was happy he couldn’t read thoughts because hers were going wild.

Sweetheart? Good job? The fact that he was going to feed her after?

Her thighs subtly pressed together. The words had gone straight to a hot, gooey, sticky place in her stomach and jolted right down between her thighs. It was depraved on her part really, considering it had all been chaste. He had praised her for listening, for drinking water. He’d only used a nickname… and that smooth voice that had her toes curling in her shoes. Heat burned her ears as he turned back to her with the buzzing gun in hand. Yeah, he would definitely have some thoughts if he could see how much just a simple praise affected her.

Sure, she knew she had a praise kink. It wasn’t a shock to her, but the ease of Harry being able to trigger it was a real problem. It had always been something that she melted with, being called a good girl, doing a good job, taking it so well. Praise kink 101, beginner stuff. Adding in the strikingly handsome and mysterious to her man with a semi admitted crush on her, his hands on her body and his willingness to take care of her? She was a goddamn goner. Finished. All he had to do was continue to stroke her ego a little bit and she would slide down to her knees. Pathetic? Perhaps. She never claimed to be anything otherwise.

His hands were warm through the gloves, holding her arm in place as the needles stippled her skin. Eyes went back to his face, his septum piercing corrected from being out of place earlier. Only this time, she caught him licking over his lip and swore she saw a flash of… something. Did he….?

Her mouth opened before her brain could tell her not to ask because it would be a blatant admittance to staring, but it was too late.

“You- Do you have a tongue piercing?”

Y/N winced slightly at her own tone. It sounded incredulous, but it was more so shocking that it had taken her a bit to notice that had her so surprised. More than judgemental, she was curious. “Sorry, sorry. That was a weird tone. M’not judging you! I swear. I just didn’t notice it and I thought I would have.” In her head, she facepalmed severely. Probably would have physically if it wouldn't have jostled her arm that was tattooed. “God, ignore me. I just didn’t know you had one and for some reason it surprised me.”

Her flustered nature made Harry grin. It was fucking cute. He hadn’t even remembered that he had one because he’d had it for a while but he had changed it recently. “Hey- It’s cool.” He let himself laugh, squeezing over her arm as he shot her a look. “I do. I know you aren’t judgin’ me. I changed it recently. It used to be pink, so not as noticable, I don’t blame you for not noticing. I wanted to go back to silver though.” He poked his tongue out a bit so she could see as he wiped away some ink, watching in amusement as her eyes widened.

“Oh. I feel like I keep rambling at you.” She laughed, her own embarrassment evident on her face. “That’s so cool. I thought about getting my nose pierced at some point but I don’t think it would suit me.” It still did sit in the back of her mind sometimes, though. It looked good on Harry, his occasional hoop and the stud he had most of the time always having been attractive to her. “I’m going to ask the overasked question- Did it hurt?”

Her curiosity was only natural. If anything, it made him feel nice to know she actually had an interest in that sort of thing. He hadn’t been hiding his piercing on purpose, but if he had realized she would be so interested in it earlier then maybe he would have switched a while back. “Eh, not that bad. It swelled up a bit so I had to be careful for a bit but luckily mouth stuff tends to heal seemingly quicker. I stuck with a soft food diet for a bit- got one of those punch cards at the smoothie place down the block, had 2 free ones by the time I was done.” He laughed at the memory. It was still a place he frequented every week. “Couldn’t do anything with it and had to be careful so I didn’t bite my tongue. It swells a bit and it’s partially why it’s recommended not to eat hard or spicy foods.”

Harry had given plenty of piercings before and the tongue wasn’t the worst, but the healing was defintely one of the more annoying ones. You couldn’t really forget about the swelling in your mouth, and the iron taste stuck around for a few days. Luckily for him, he wasn’t a chatterbox and people barely knew he had even had it done.

“Wow. I think you have a bigger pain tolerance than me.” Y/N laughed, feeling her cheeks cool down slightly. Harry hadn’t seemed offput by the questions, rather eager to answer it. But one more remained. “So is there a reason you got it? Y’know, the aesthetics and stuff like that? I’d be worried about a tooth chipping or something.” Y/N babied her teeth so any piercing in the mouth 24/7 would worry her.

“No, no. It’s far back enough that it doesn’t rest on the teeth, the roof of my mouth. There is a piercing I refuse to do that is a bar through the tip of the tongue. If you do it incorrectly you can cause severe nerve damage, and it’s known to chip teeth. But a regular piercing on your tongue isn’t much of a risk. Not in my experience.” He hummed. Again, he felt a little flustered at this one because the reason for the piercing was for aesthetics, yes… but. “Real talk? I thought it looked cool and there are… benefits to having one.” At her raised brow he knew she wanted the proper answer, making him exhale deeply. “Uh- It’s like… It enhances oral sex. Some people think it feels better.”

Harry was a self proclaimed pussy lover. He liked dicks just fine too, he didn’t limit himself, but there was just something about licking up a pretty cunt that had gotten dripping just for him. His hookups were short but there was always a longing to give more of that. It was something that plagued his fantasies, as shameful as he felt, thinking about the girl sitting right in front of him.

Sitting between her thighs with his arm locked around her hips, keeping her nice and still despite the twitches she would give off involuntarily as his tongue swiped up her folds, nose bumping her clit as he greedily lapped her up. He could beg for the chance to have her sprawled out for him and her thighs locked around his head as he took his time tasting her. He had been very respectful and wasn’t planning on doing anything to make her uncomfortable, but she had asked. He wouldnt lie to her.

“Oh!” She squeaked. “Damn it. See… I looked up tons of stuff about tattoos and nose piercings but I’m showing my lack of knowledge here.” A nervous giggle erupted, Harry noticing as she squeezed her thighs together. It was subtle- if he hadn’t been paying attention he wouldn’t have seen it. It was caught and he felt downright smug. She was thinking about it and obviously, she didn’t hate the idea.

“S’alright, pet.” He replied, looking up to give her a smile. “You’re sweet. Not a problem to ask me things you want to know. You don’t have to know it all, m’happt yo teach you anything.”

There was a slight shift, a heavier more charged energy in the room as Y/N sat quietly. She found Harry exceedingly handsome, his sex appeal not only oozing from his pores but his heart. She was trying very hard not to get ahead of herself here, knowing she definitely could fall into it if she allowed herself to do the thing she actually wanted. Shyness was her savior, at this point.

They continued talking until he was finished, helping Y/N up and standing with her a moment to make sure she was steady. One too may clients passed out after standing up after a session and he didn’t want that to be her experience. Once she was all clear, he led her over to the mirror to look at her tattoo reflected in the glass. How it looked on her body. She looked it over with a wide smile, flexing her arm to mimic the movement he had told her about before to see the stem did indeed stay where it was supposed to be.

“Harry.. I can’t even thank you enough.” Her words were raspy, awe showing through as she let him wrap it up. He had given her the lecture, the talk about keeping it from the sun, the moisturizing it, not itching, the whole nine yards. She knew most of what he said, but she had still managed to be surprised at how much he seemed to care about the integrity of the tattoo. “It’s incredible. Everything I could have hoped for, both in the tattoo and the experience. I’m so happy with it.” Big eyes were shining up at him, giving him the most awed glint to them. Without warning, she tossed herself into his arms, wrapping them around hus shoulders to take him in for a hug.

He froze for a moment, their embrace catching him off guard. She hadn’t seemed to initiate much touch except for last night when she was tipsy and leaning into him, so he had been surprised at her willingness to do so- but he wasn’t about to waste this. Arms wrapped around her torso, a chuckle leaving his throat as she squeezed herself to him all while being mindful of her tattoo.

She smelled really fucking good. A hint of sweet but defintely something floral. Her cheek pressed against his shoulder as she whispered thanks to him again, pulling back much too soon for his liking. She was beaming, a beam he had put on her face and a picture he wanted to photograph in his mind forever. He had made her smile like that. It had altered his breathing a little bit, watching as she gave him the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Yeah, he was effectively fucked.

“You don’t have t’thank me, Y/N. I’m really happy you chose me to do it. It makes me feel good that you trusted me enough even before we cleared things up.” He knew he would be making up for that for a long time. Not because she would hold it against him, but becaus he hated that his awkwardness had caused any sort of negative feeling for the sweet girl.

“Of course I did. If anything, I knew you’d be professional.” There was a pause before she lightly nudged his foot with her own. “I do prefer us like this, though. I had a lot of fun talking to you.” He had interesting stories, despite being quieter than her, and his voice was utterly delectable. She would eat it up anytime.

“Me as well.” He returned the shy smile to her, walking back towards his office. All her stuff was in there along with his own. Their hands bumped as they walked side by side, his heart rattling in it’s ribbed caged, the slight hook of her pinky as they entered the room making it pause before it was dropped. He had a lump in his throat, one that was begging him to ask for more from her, but it wasn’t the right time.

The right time didn’t come until after they’d grabbed some food down the street. Playing a slight game of knocking feet under the table and gentle flirations, both of them having hated cheeks and in harry’s case, heated ears as they spoke softly to one another the entire time. It was far different than being out with their friends, his attention solely focused on her and the quieter atmosphere allowing her to hear his quieter chuckles and little hums he made in the middle of her sentences as a reply. He let her talk his ear off about her hunt for a certain eyeliner brand at the shops lately and how she’d made friends with employees who text her when it came in, she was only missing the Sapphire and Indigo variations.

Harry sat and responded appropriately, even adding in some things, but he wa content to hear her sweet recalling of the baby penguins she wanted to go see at the museum desperately, her nosy next door neighbor, anything really. It was one of the best meals he’d ever had and he hated that it even had to end.

He could see himself more than happy listening to her rambling every night as they ate. It was a bit shocking considering how much Harry loved his solitude and quiet, but Y/N just tickled a part of him that had never been open for access before. There was no way he could fumble this, no way he could waste an opportunity to take a chance on this. He had to man up and simply ask.

The walk back to the shop was similar to the hallway, their hands knocking until Harry took initiative this time and let their pinkies link. Y/N continued talking, stumbling over her words once as she felt their fingers connect but her pace in words only increased. The smile wider. He took it as a good sign. The journey had been far too short for his liking, the fact he had to take his hand away from hers as she unlocked her car making him frown. Hands stuffed themselves in his pockets to keep from reaching from her again, watching her toss her bag to the passenger seat before turning to him.

“Thank you for-” “Go on a date with me.” Harry’s words tumbled from his lips without being able to stop them, interrupting her mid sentence. Working up the nerve to ask her not allowing him to wait a second more or he would lose the confidence. “Shit- sorry. I meant, would you? Want to go om a date with me?” He watched as she blinked up at him, those pretty eyes rounded and shocked as her mouth opened and closed. It was his turn to ramble. “I had a really good time with you today, and I like you. I know I probably hurt your feelings in the past but I will make it up to you. I took you out tonight but this wasn’t a date- I just…”

Oh, god. This was why he tended to stay the quiet and mysterious type.

“Harry.” Y/N’s hands braced on his forearms, squeezing as she laughed through the utter of his name. “Harry. Relax. It’s okay. I… I would really, really like that.” She watched him deflate slightly from his tense stance, head tilting to the right. “I had an amazing time with you. You don’t have to make anything up to me at all. It was an accident. I’m sensitive. But I like you too.” The admittance was quieter than the rest of her words, shyer. A grown woman feeling like a kid all over again. He liked her.

Liked liked her.

“Yeah?” He asked again, “I’m really happy t’hear that. I wanted to ask you before we went to dinner but I got nervous.” His hand returned to anxiously rub the back of his neck, shooting her his own relieved smile. “I won’t let you regret it. I promise..”

He stepped forward, holding her car door open for her while getting closer to her. It was getting dark and she had stuff to fo tomorrow which she had told him about, her whole itinerary actually. It was- you guessed it- fucking cute. “Need you to get home safe, so text me when you walk in the door, and then we can plan our date. Sound like a plan?”

Y/N nodded, not hesitating before wrapping her arms around his shoulders. This hug wasn less awkward, Harry’s hand falling to her back to rub gently a few times before she pulled back. He’d dwell on how nice she felt pressed against him later. Again, the girl decided to shock him, reaching up on her toes and pressing a kiss to his cheek before sitting down in her driver’s seat.

“Bye Harry. I can’t wait to talk to you again.”

His cheek burned with the heat of her kiss the entire time he watched her drink off. It was cool but very much there as he drove home. The lipgloss stain burned yet again as soon as he got a text once he got inside his own place, shoes kicked off and arm over his head trying to relive the feeling of her lips on his skin yet again.

Y/N: I’m home, inkmaster :-)

H: All in one piece, I hope.

He wasn’t. Surely, a tiny bit of his heart was still stuck in her palm.

Y/N: Yep, lost my sunglasses though. Think they’re in your office. Good thing I’ll be seeing you soon

Y/N: So… our date?

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shellshocklove · 1 year

Text

conversation | peter parker

pairing: college!peter parker x college!female!reader

summary: peter parker is in the friendzone. and it sucks. especially when the girl he’s in love with is dating his best friend. smack dab in the middle of a bad situation peter struggles to keep his feelings at bay when the girl of his dreams comes to him for advice about her failing relationship.

warnings: i guess post!nwh, swearing, cheating, peter pining for reader, everyone being a bad guy, smut 18+ (minors dni!!!), unprotected sex, creampie

word count: 4.1k

a/n: um my first peter fic! it’s based on the song conversation by joni mitchell. listen to it, or don’t, i’m not your mother. i said i was going to stop posting writing, but i have “i must create or i’ll go crazy” disease so... (i’m still not a writer)

main masterlist / ao3

She comes to him for conversation, for comfort, for consultation. But Peter wished she came to him for something else.

He remembers the first time he saw you. How he’d thought his heart had stopped for a second, forgetting how to do its most basic function. How could someone look so effortlessly beautiful? How could a voice sound so sweet while asking such a mundane question?

“Is this seat taken?”.

“N-n-no!” he’d manage to stutter out, his cheeks flushed red and completely taken aback by the fact that you were talking to him. You’d given him a playful smile before seating yourself next to him.

Did he believe in love at first sight? Yes, after seeing you for the first time, Peter started to think he did.

Meeting you in a chemistry class, Peter thought, must be the universe’s take on a bad joke, because… you two had chemistry. Everything just felt so easy when he hung out with you. His smile always wide, cheeks hurting. Conversation flowing freely, or engulfed in a silence, that was always comfortable. The only thing though, even though you two had chemistry, you weren’t any good at it. Actually, you were barely passing.

And that’s how your time began. Sharing sodas after class, in a rundown diner, over chemistry homework. You’d seen how Peter had gotten straight A’s on all his tests, and one day you’d carefully asked if he would be so kind as to help you. Those were the actual words you’d used. If Peter would be so kind. As if he wouldn’t have done anything you’d ask without a second thought. Okay, maybe not anything. He doesn’t think he’d murder someone if you asked… or maybe… if you were in danger and it was the only way–

“Peter!” you laughed, waving your hand in front of his face, “Are you even listening to me?”.

“Huh!?” he hummed, a familiar warmth spreading through his cheeks as your laugh rang through his ears.

“You zoned out a little,” you said, scrunching up your nose. Oh god he loved when you did that– you looked so cute.

“Oh! S-sorry” he stuttered out, still embarrassed that you’d caught him daydreaming, “What were you saying?”.

“Ehm… just forget it” you looked away, waving your hand, “It was just something Harry did again”.

His name coming from your mouth felt like a bucket of ice-cold water over Peter’s head. Harry Osborn, your boyfriend, and Peter’s roommate.

As much as Peter loved Harry, he didn’t treat you well. This was usually how your conversations during your study dates would go, once it was clear that after a few hours of studying, you were done with chemistry for the day.

You’d usually bring up small things that Harry had done that hurt you or annoyed you. And Peter would be tasked with giving you advice, or comfort, or consolation. You always apologized after, for bringing Harry up in conversation, but Peter always brushed it off telling you it was fine. But it wasn’t. It always reminded him about his own failures. How if he hadn’t been such a pussy at Betty’s party, all those months ago, and told you how he felt, this wouldn’t just be a study date, but a real date. The problem was just that Harry had beat him to it that night. In Harry’s defense, he didn’t know about Peter’s feelings about you. No one did.

You’d disappeared at some point in the night, and Peter figured you’d gone home. Turns out you did go home, but not to your own apartment, but to Peter’s and Harry’s instead. A fact Peter didn’t know until the morning after when he’d bumped into you in the kitchen, his heart dropping to his stomach at the sight of you in nothing but Harry’s shirt.

Peter’s dreams weren’t completely crushed at that moment. He still harbored hope for you. Harry was quite the whore (Harry’s own words by the way, not Peter’s), and this wasn’t the first time Peter ran into one of his hook-ups in the kitchen after a night out. In Peter’s mind this was only a one-night stand. But he couldn’t have been more wrong. Not soon after, you started showing up at the penthouse, not to hang out with Peter, but with Harry instead.

Peter tried his best to not be disappointed when you came over. But the tiny spark of hope he had about one day calling you his, soon fizzled out and died. Every time he saw you and Harry kissing, holding hands; he knew nothing would ever happen between the two of you.

Trying to forget you, he started busying himself with classes and patrol, seeing you less and less. He’d run into you sometimes when you were visiting Harry. Only a short “Hello” leaving Peter’s lips as he’d retire to his room before Harry could see how much Peter wanted you.

Back in his room, Peter would convince himself that you and Harry being together was the best thing for you. If you were with Peter, he’d only end up hurting you. You deserve the very best, and Peter knew he would never be good enough. He was a fucking mess most of the time. He was always late to things, never on time, he couldn’t afford to treat you to nice things like Harry did, and his double life could make you a target, which was the last thing he wanted.

Peter kept his distance the best he could, but as time went on it got harder and harder to convince himself that Harry treated you the way Peter thought you deserved. Peter knew Harry wasn’t being honest with you, and it killed him to keep his mouth shut. The bubbling anger simmering under the surface every time he’d see a girl who wasn’t you, slip out of Harry’s bedroom. Then like a curse, a few moments later, his enhanced hearing enabled him to eavesdrop on yours’ and Harry’s conversations on the phone. Harry would always apologize for being too busy to come over and hang out. And with the softest voice, you’d let Harry off the hook every time. Leaving the penthouse, to go on patrol after nights like that, Peter admitted, his punches hit a little harder.

Your relationship tasted especially bitter in Peter’s mouth whenever Harry would throw parties at the penthouse. A hand over your shoulder or around your waist, never leaving your side, showing you off like you were a prized possession and not a human being. Was this the final straw for Peter? Seeing yet another way Harry didn’t treat you as well as he should; that had made him not want to make up an excuse, like he normally would, when you’d ask him if he wanted to study at the diner.

Peter had kept his distance from you for the last six months. Tried to stay in his lane. To turn the other eye. To fold his feelings for you in on itself like a piece of paper so many times he hoped they’d disappear. But one look at you again, sitting across from him at your regular booth at the diner, and his origami-ed feelings had sprung up again like a blooming flower in spring.

“I just really wanted to see him, you know? I’ve been so stressed about this chemistry exam– that I know I’m gonna fail by the way, and work’s been kicking my ass– and I just wanted to hang out with my boyfriend… but he canceled on me three times this week”.

Or maybe the final straw, for Peter, was the way your whole body deflated in front of him. Peter could feel his heart break in real time watching you turn your head away, hiding the wobble of your bottom lip. And the worst part of it all was that Peter knew why Harry had canceled on you. He’d been over at someone else’s place. But Peter knew he couldn’t tell you that.

Carefully he reached out his hand, brushing it over the back of yours as you rested it on the table. “I’m sure Harry’s just been busy! I know he’s got his exams in a few weeks, and he hasn’t been home as much lately” Peter said, trying his best to make you feel better.

You watched your hands for a moment, how Peter brushed his hand over yours trying to sooth you the best he could. Then you turned your hand, wrapping it around his in a gentle hold. The soft touch of your warm hand, making Peter stop breathing for a second.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “you’re probably right, Peter”. You tried your best to smile, but Peter could see your sorrow written all over your face, breaking Peter’s heart even more.

“You’re a good friend Peter!” you started, “I’m so sorry for always talking about Harry, but it’s just that you know him so well, so it’s easier to talk about him with you– and you always manage to say the right thing to make me feel better” you looked down at your intertwining hands.

“It’s almost scary how easily you can make me feel better Peter– it’s like you have superpowers or something” you said, a chuckle escaping your lips.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you about my superpowers?” Peter quipped, trying his best to cheer you up even more. A smile spread across your face as you shook your head.

“My powers are actually being very good at chemistry– AND knowing how to make my friend who’s failing her chemistry class feel better”.

A giggle left your lips at Peter’s joke as you let out a sarcastic “haha, very funny”, playing along.

If only you knew though. How he wished that this mess could be fixed with his actual superpowers. How he wished he could just put on the suit and save you from Harry. How he wished he could free you.

Landing safely on the rooftop of Harry’s penthouse, Peter looked around for his backpack he’d hid with his clothes. He’d managed to hide his double life from Harry so far, and he planned on it staying that way, which meant changing in and out of his suit crouched behind a rooftop vent, every day.

He was back earlier than usual, cutting tonight’s patrol short as it had turned out to be a quiet night. He’d stopped a man stealing a lady’s purse, and after he’d helped a man, who he was 90% sure had dementia, find his way back to his apartment. After that he’d just swung around the city for a few hours. At sunset he’d found a good spot at the top of this new skyscraper they were building downtown. His feet dangled off the scaffolding as he watched the sky turn every shade of pink and orange, before the sun dipped below the horizon.

Back home, on the roof, Peter felt the soft touch of the spring night against his naked skin. He quickly changed out of his suit before stuffing it back into his backpack, swinging it over his shoulder before he headed towards the rooftop door. With a light bounce in his step, Peter made his way down the stairs, his head filled with thoughts about all the studying he needed to do before his exam next week. Slipping through the front door he’s so distracted by his own thoughts he almost doesn’t hear it. The sounds of muffled moans accompanied by Harry’s bedpost hitting the wall.

But he does hear it, and images of how sad you’d looked earlier at the diner start flickering through Peter’s head. Before any rational thoughts can stop him, he’s fished his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. He’s had enough. His fingers work on their own accord, pulling up your contact.

Peter hi, um are you at the penthouse right now?

He knew you weren’t, but he figured this was the best way to bring it up. Taking long strides across the floor, he made his way towards his bedroom door. Why did he suddenly feel like he needed to hide?

He passed through his bedroom door while he slipped his backpack off his shoulder. Not even ten seconds later his phone buzzed in his hands with your reply. He sat down quickly on his bed, one leg bouncing in an anxious rhythm, as he read your reply.

You no? i’m at home why?

Peter i think you should come over there’s a girl with harry in his room

Did this make him a bad person Peter asked himself as he watched the three dotted bubble appear and then disappear. Was this just him acting out of his own selfishness? Letting the devil on his shoulder whisper in his ear and guide his hand? Or did it make him a hero? Saving you from a toxic relationship?

You i’m coming over.

The sound of your footsteps echoed down the streets, mixing with Peter’s calls of your name as he practically jogged behind you trying to catch up to you.

“Peter” you sighed, “just please go back home”.

“No!” he finally caught up to you, grabbing a hold of your wrist, pulling it a little, making you slow down.

“I don’t think you should be alone right now”.

Your face was blank, the only sign of any emotion coming from your restless eyes dancing across his face. He couldn’t decipher what you were thinking. You were angry of course. You were furious only minutes ago when you stormed out the door with both Harry and Peter at your heel.

Harry had spoken his sorry sentences. Telling you it wasn’t what it looked like. Begging for your forgiveness. But he was only kidding himself trying to convince you it wasn’t what it looked like, that he hadn’t cheated on you, when you’d literally caught him with his dick inside another woman.

Harry stayed behind in the lobby, probably thinking it wasn’t worth it to go after you into the spring night, in only his robe. Just as Peter were about to rush after you Harry spoke up,

“If you go after her you’re dead to me!”.

The venomous bite to Harry’s tone stopped Peter dead in his tracks.

“I know you fucking told her” Harry accused, “If you go after her I’m kicking you out– I NEVER want to see you again”.

But standing here, out on the streets of New York at midnight, holding your hand Peter knew he’d made the right decision.

“Ok” you said it so softly Peter didn't think he’d even hear it if his hearing wasn’t enhanced.

“Ok” he repeated.

You pulled your hand away, a knife twisting in Peter’s heart, and started walking. You didn’t say a single word on the way back to your apartment. Peter imagined you were hurt, but you weren’t crying, and Peter didn’t know if that scared him or comforted him.

Safely back inside your apartment you didn’t even acknowledge his presence as you threw your jacket off by the door. Then you walked down the hallway, taking a right at the end, to where he assumed your living room must be. Peter had never actually been in your apartment before.

He followed you down the hallway, after neatly hanging both his and your jacket on your coat rack. He found you on the floor by your couch, your back resting against the front, holding your knees to your chest, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, as soft sobs escaped you.

“I’m sorry you had to find out like that” Peter apologized, sitting down next to you on your carpet. A feeling like his only purpose in life was to comfort you, overcame him. So, he wrapped a hand around your shoulders, pulling you against his chest. You leaned in closer to his body, your hands shifting from hugging yourself, to hugging Peter tightly.

“No, this was exactly how I needed to find out” you sobbed, “I needed to see it with my own eyes, or I wouldn’t have believed it”.

Peter let you cry until there weren't any tears left to cry, cooing you and whispering all the most reassuring words he could muster up past midnight.

“I don’t know why it hurts so bad… I think deep down I always knew he wasn’t being honest with me– he always kept me guessing” you said. No, Peter thought, he kept you down.

Before Peter could say anything, you lifted your head from his chest, a big wet spot on his t-shirt left in your wake. You looked him right in the eye, and Peter could feel a budding warmth of red covering the apples of his cheeks.

“Please Peter” you pleaded, moving your face closer, the closest it’s ever been to his. Your right hand traveled to cup his hot cheeks, pulling him even closer to your face. So close he felt your breath tickle his skin while you spoke,

“You always make me feel better– it’s your superpower, remember? Please make me feel better”.

Closing his eyes, Peter knew he couldn’t deny you, his heart screamed out for you. This was everything he wanted, was it not? With a shuddering breath and a heart beating out of his chest, he closed the space between you, brushing his lips over yours.

Your other hand cupped his other cheek, pulling him even closer to your body, letting out a small whimper as you kissed him back. Peter felt like his head was spinning. He didn’t know where he ended, and you began.

Then it all became a bit of a blur. His hands found your waist as you climbed onto his lap, brushing your tongue over his bottom lip, deepening the kiss. Your hand left his cheek to toy with his hair, and Peter just about moaned into your mouth. He needed more of you, and with the way you were grinding down on his growing bulge, he knew you did too.

Warmth flooded his body wherever you touched him, and he didn’t think he could ever get enough of you. When your hand left his hair, he just about sighed with disappointment, until he realized how you toyed with the hem of his t-shirt. Raising his hands, he helped you pull it off him. Absentmindedly, you threw it away, before your eyes fell to his chest, quickly scanning over his muscles before they traveled up to his face, where they looked into his soul. Half a second later you pulled him in for another heated kiss.

His hands fell to your ass, helping you grind down on him. Fuck, he was properly hard now, his cock straining against his jeans. With every brush of your core against his cock you whimpered into his mouth, making Peter almost feel lightheaded. You were so pretty. Your lips tasted like raspberries, and under his hands your skin was softer than velvet.

“Take off your pants please” you pleaded against his skin as you started pressing soft kisses down along his jaw and neck.

His hands raced to unbutton his jeans. You pulled away from his neck, staggering to your feet on wobbly legs, making a whine leaving Peter’s lips. Over him you started pulling on your pants, dragging them down your legs along with your panties in one go. Mesmerized by your silhouette, Peter almost forgot what he was doing. You quickly sat down beside him, fingers coming up to hook around the waistband of Peter’s jeans. Then you started pulling them down to his mid-thigh along with his boxers. Peter almost forgot to breathe as you freed his aching cock.

When you climbed onto his lap, Peter’s brain started working again. His hands fell to your ass, steadying you as you got comfortable on his lap.

“D-did you want me to…” Peter trailed off, not knowing how to say what he wanted to say. Instead, he showed you. His right hand rubber over your ass and hip before his fingers brushed over your clit. You mewled at the contact, your eyes closing before you shook your head.

“No, no I just want you– I need you, Peter”.

Fuck, Peter thought. He’d dreamt of hearing you tell him you wanted him, for months. And now it wasn’t a dream anymore.

“O-okay” he stuttered, reaching a hand between your bodies, grabbing at his shaft in a rough hold. With his other hand he helped guide your hips to hover over his tip, sliding it back and forth over your slit, and lining it up with your opening. He could feel how wet and desperate you were, coating his cock in your arousal.

With a hand resting on his shoulder, you slowly sat down on his cock. First slipping the tip in, before your walls swallowed the rest of him, taking him fully inside. A choked moan fell from Peter’s lips as he savored the feeling of your velvet pulsing walls around him. Rocking your hips back and forth, your puffy clit rubbing up against his pelvis, as your mouth fell open in a silent gasp, gaping around words you couldn’t get out.

“Shit” you panted, “You’re so deep”.

“Yeah” Peter breathed out, head falling back against the couch, “You feel me in your tummy?”.

“Fuck,” you lifted your hips, slowly starting to move, “y-yes, I d-do”.

Looking up at you, as you moved over him, Peter thought you looked like an angel. The way your ceiling light lit up the back of your head, Peter was sure you were wearing a halo.

Your rhythm increased and soon you were bouncing in his lap. Your breathy moans falling from your lips, the wet noises coming from where you were connected, and the way you were starting to clench around him, were making the tension in Peter’s stomach grow. Knitting his eyebrows together, Peter didn’t know how much longer he was going to last.

Scared he’d finish before you, his fingers found your clit, pressing down in tight circles. Under the touch of his fingers you almost jumped, while a shuddering breath left your lips. Then Peter felt himself start to get desperate, meeting your bounces with a thrusting of his hip, pushing his throbbing cock even further inside you.

Every brush of his fingers over your clit, coincided with a thrust of his hips, and soon he felt your wall flutter around him. He could feel how your wetness ran down his shaft and down his balls, and he knew you were as close to the edge of ecstasy as he was. His fingers never let up on your clit, and soon you clenched around him so hard he couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“Fuck,” Peter spat, “I’m gonna cum”.

“I–Inside” you moaned, “You can come inside– it’s okay”.

Your words pushed him over the edge, making him come hard inside you with a grunt. He didn’t slow down his fingers on your clit, and the feeling of him filling you up and the brush of his fingers, must’ve pushed you over the edge. Half a second later your hips stilled as Peter felt the frantic pulses of your orgasm milking his cock.

The feeling of you riding out your orgasm on his sensitive cock, clenching down on him as your body shook with aftershocks, it was almost too much, too intense for Peter. His breath came out in hard pants, and his body felt hot to the touch.

Peter didn’t know how much time passed as you both came down from your highs. It could have been three seconds or three hours. All Peter knew was that with you, he lost all sense of time. But this moment of bliss must come to an end. Everything is temporary, and someone must be the first to pull away.

On wobbling legs, you slid off his lap, sitting down next to him on the floor. You leaned back, grabbing your panties off the couch. Peter averted his eyes. The act was somehow too intimate to watch, even after what you two had just done. Instead, he busied himself with pulling his pants back over his ass, and tucking himself away, as a silence fell over the both of you. It felt heavy, loaded with questions he didn’t know if he wanted an answer too. After a few minutes a whisper left Peter’s lips, breaking the silence,

“I think I might be homeless”.

You didn’t answer right away, but Peter could hear your breathing change multiple times, like you were going to say something,

“I’m sorry”.

tagging some mutuals (this is so embarrassing): @hollandweather, @luciwritesstuff, @userholland, @t-lostinworlds, @silkscream, @sparklingsin, @logangarfield, @justapurrcat, @tomdutch, @devotion, @lnmp89, @mayal0pez, @melodicheauxxo-writes,

...

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker x y/n #spider man x reader #spider man #tom holland #peter parker smut #peter parker angst #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #tom holland smut #tom holland fanfiction #spider man smut #spider man fanfiction #mcu!peter x reader #peter parker x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #*writing

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cupid-styles · 5 months

Text

december with you

the tattoorry christmas one shot is finally here :D I know you guys really loved their original story so I hope people like this little look into their life together during the holiday season!!!!

read only angel (the original series) here

word count: 4.2k

content warnings: mentions of y/n's terrible parents, smut (dirty talk, a bit of degradation, mutual masturbation, tiny bit of impact play, grinding, daddy kink)

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

December 5, 2023

"Have you ever had a real Christmas tree?"

Y/N and Harry are currently both bundled up in layers of sweaters, scarves, and puffy jackets, but their fingers are still messily intertwined and hidden in Harry's coat pocket. They're walking back to his place from the shop after a long day of work and school, and Y/N can't help but gaze longingly at the Christmas tree salesman across the way. There's an array of forest green trees and wreaths, the comforting balsam and pine scent creating a fragrant wintertime cloud around them.

Harry's so focused on braving the cold with his girl that it takes him a moment to register that she's said anything at all. He thinks for a moment — he hasn't gotten a Christmas tree for the past few years of living alone, but the employees usually stick a small one in the shop for a hint of holiday spirit.

"Yeah, we always got them growing up. My mom had a thing about 'em, always said they were better than fake ones."

She hums as they pass the display, Harry gently dragging her along down the block — his apartment is so close he can taste the warmth. They've only been properly dating for a few months now, so he's still learning about her communication tells and body language, and it's only then that he realizes that's her way of saying, I never had one before.

"Did your parents put up a Christmas tree?" he asks. He knows it's a sore subject, that she's still very much in the process of healing from years of trauma, but she tends to be comfortable with questions that aren't directly related to them. Things like, what was your favorite Halloween costume growing up? and what did you want to be when you were little?

"They did, but it was always one of those fake white ones." Y/N replies with a wrinkled nose. Finally, they're approaching the front of Harry's building, his keys already in his hand and prepared to unlock the front door. They make quick work of shimmying into the lobby, immediately breathing out mutual sighs of relief from the instant temperature increase.

"Those barely count as Christmas trees," Harry murmurs, pressing the elevator button. She nods, agreeing and following him inside. She buries her mitten-clad hands into the pockets of her jacket as she watches him press the floor 4 button. "Maybe you and Luce can get a real one?"

"She's Jewish. I think I'd feel bad about putting a tree up."

Harry nods his head, unsurprised by his girl's ever-polite nature in never wanting to make anyone else uncomfortable. Realistically, her roommate probably wouldn't care if she wanted to get a real Christmas tree, especially knowing her history with her parents.

The conversation ceases as he unlocks the door to his apartment. As soon as they step inside, they perform the routine they've been following for the past few weeks — shedding of jackets, scarves, and gloves, toeing off shoes in the entryway, and Y/N shuffling in the direction of Harry's bedroom to change into comfortable clothes while he proposes dinner options.

She's currently changing into her favorite pair of his sweatpants and an equally worn and cozy sweatshirt (Harry specifically did laundry the night before, knowing she'd want them) as he calls out takeout suggestions.

"Italian?"

"Mm, Lucy and I made pizza last night, so pass!"

"Sushi?"

"Last time you didn't like it, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," Harry mumbles, mainly to himself, "Chinese, then? I'm in the mood for something noodle-y."

"Chinese is good," Y/N says as she walks out to meet him in the living room. He grins when he sees her, the image of her in his clothes never quite getting old. Even though it's something he witnesses multiple times a week, he can never help his length from thickening up in his briefs. "Can you get me the veggie lo mein? And maybe we can split some dumplings if you want?"

"'course, dovie."

He unlocks his phone and pulls up the food ordering app while Y/N occupies herself with cozying up on the couch, bundling underneath the fuzzy pink throw blanket. She watches him as he looks down at the screen in his hand, his eyebrows slightly furrowed in focus. He looks so cute, Y/N thinks — sometimes it's silly to her that someone like him could like her, but he never makes her doubt his adoration.

"Alright, all ordered," Harry announces with a smile. He leans over the couch to press a kiss to her hair. "I'm gonna go change, you wanna pick something to watch?"

She hums noncommittally, her eyes fluttering to his as she looks up to see him standing over her. She reaches out to clasp a hand around his wrist — for what, they're both unsure of in the moment, and it seems like she's just as surprised as he is. He quirks a brow in silent questioning and her lips part, the pink tip of her tongue running over the ridges of her two front teeth.

"About the tree," she forces out, a look of distress so severe you'd think she was asking to marry him. "Did you... like it?"

"...did I like the tree?"

"Yeah," she nods, shifting onto her knees so she can lean her chest against the back of the couch and face him. "The tree your mom would get. Did you like it?"

"Sure. It was nice," Harry replies with a shrug. He reaches out to thumb over her plushy bottom lip, giving it a small squeeze. "What are you getting at, dove?"

Harry tries to practice this with her frequently. He's learned that she tends to be afraid of asking for what she wants, even if it's something small like stopping at the grocery store on their walk home. He knows it's from years of trauma from her parents, but he also knows that she's beyond capable of voicing her wants and needs. He's not sure if she's aware that he does this with her — some days are better than others and he always promises himself to take it easy with her.

"I was just wondering if maybe we could go see them. The trees."

He smiles gently. "Yeah, we could do that. Do you just wanna look at them?"

Y/N shrugs her shoulders, a bashful blush blooming over her skin.

"We could get one if you want," he murmurs as he ducks down to catch her eyes. "We could put it up here."

"Really?"

His heart squeezes at the instant twinkle in her eyes, a hopeful expression painted over her features. He grins and nods.

"Of course. We can go tomorrow."

"Okay," she agrees with a smile, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips. He gasps in fake shock and she giggles.

"Careful dovie, I might just think you like me."

. . .

December 14, 2023

Y/N hates the cold.

Today, it's bitterly cold, the tips of her ears red from the harsh winter wind nipping at them all afternoon. Her hands are stuffed in mittens, she's wearing multiple thermal layers beneath her North Face puffer jacket (an early Christmas gift from Harry, who claimed her current coat wasn't cutting it), and her toes have officially surpassed an acrid sting and live in the completely and utterly numb category.

But she supposes it's worth it all to walk arm-in-arm with Harry as they explore his favorite holiday market.

He's been blabbing her ear off about it since it started in the last week of November, explaining that he discovered it his first year living in the city, just a few months after opening the shop. He said that business was slow and he couldn't afford to visit his family in London for the holidays, so he was feeling particularly down, but this market actually awoke a bit of festive spirit in him. Ever since then, he comes back every year, gets a hot chocolate, and walks through the rows of vendors, even if he doesn't buy anything — and he was beyond excited to experience it with Y/N this year.

It just so happened that they hadn't taken the weather into account. Harry asked Y/N about a million separate times, making sure she was still okay with going (and while she much would have rather stay home, snuggled up with her boyfriend with a Christmas movie on, she couldn't bare ruining his plans, especially given all that he did for her).

And the thing is, Harry can tell that she's borderline-miserable in the cold. But every time he asks if she wants to go home, her chapped lips form into a small smile, shaking her head, insisting that she wants to keep going.

Finally, Harry spots the hot chocolate vendor at the end of sidewalk; a much-welcomed excuse to hopefully warm his girl up.

"This place has the best hot chocolate," he says as his pace quickens slightly. If Y/N's arm wasn't looped around his, she's sure she wouldn't be able to keep up with his long stride.

"Oh, yummy," she mumbles, digging into her pocket to pull out her wallet, "Do y'wanna share one or each get one?"

"Put that away." he instantly replies with a scoff. In a second, he's produced his own wallet, quickly ordering one hot chocolate each.

"Harry," Y/N whines quietly, "You always pay for things, why couldn't you let me get this?"

"'cos I wanted to."

"That's what you always say!"

He chuckles as he graciously accepts the hot chocolates from the salesman, then hands one to Y/N without a second glance. She huffs to herself as she pulls her hands from her pockets to clutch the warm cup. It already smells heavenly, her eyes nearly fluttering shut from the coziness oozing from the warm steam.

"Seriously, will you let me get us dinner or something tonight?" Y/N asks as Harry guides them towards a bench. She's not really in the mood to perch her bum on a freezing cold slab of wood, but if today's anything to go by, she'd do anything for Harry.

"No," he replies with a cheeky grin. "I like spoiling you."

"But I don't want you to spend so much—"

"It's not about the money, Y/N," he says, a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows. "You deserve the very best and I will give you that. Okay?"

Truthfully, she can't tell if she's more surprised or turned on by Harry's sudden harsh tone, but nonetheless, she nods her head.

"Good. Now drink your hot chocolate, dove."

Wordlessly, she lifts the cup to her lips and takes a sip, the decedent taste instantly outweighing the slight sting of pain from the warm liquid hitting her tongue.

It's delicious, just as Harry promised. She doesn't think he could ever steer her wrong, even in the context of something small like a beverage. It's something she learned quickly into meeting him — even when they were just friends, she trusted him implicitly. Perhaps it had been naive on her part, but in all honesty, she wouldn't change it for the world. She feels so lucky to have someone who cherishes her as much as he does, even knowing all the nitty gritty details of her life.

Despite the comfortable lull in conversation, they shuffle closer until their puffer-covered arms are flush against one another. His glove-clad hand reaches out to give her thigh a small squeeze as she people watches and takes in the wintery scenery around them.

"Thank you for bringing me today," she says through cold swollen lips, "I really like it here."

He smiles. "Thank you for coming. Know you're freezing."

She giggles and takes another sip of her hot chocolate. He's just about to ask her if she's ready to head back to his place when a smattering of applause distracts them both. They turn around to see a man on one knee with an engagement ring in his hand and his girlfriend — or fiancee now — nodding her head enthusiastically. It's a picture perfect moment in front of the large decorated Christmas tree with onlookers cheering them on and taking pictures.

"'s sweet." Y/N murmurs, shifting her posture to turn back around. Harry swallows before humming quietly in agreement. He stands from his spot on the bench and holds his hand out to take her empty cup, tossing them both in the garbage can before nodding his head in the direction of the exit.

"Would you ever want something like that?" he blurts out before he can force himself to swallow the words down. She glances up at him as she loops her arm through his, burying her hand back into the warmth of his pocket.

"Like what?"

Harry shrugs. "Like... a big proposal."

"Oh," she wrinkles her nose. "I've never really thought about it, to be honest."

"Really?"

"Well, yeah. I always assumed my parents would just marry me off to someone they approved of."

"I'm sorry," he mutters with a shake of his head. "That was a stupid question."

"It's alright. I guess I can think about it now."

He smiles as they stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn.

"Why're you asking?"

Harry clears his throat before shrugging his shoulders again. With a small smile, she bumps her arm against his, a silent and sweet encouragement to voice his thoughts.

"I think about a future for us, is all."

"You do?"

He returns her smile as they walk across the street, nodding his head. "Of course I do."

"What do you think about?"

"Well, I think about us maybe moving a little further out of the city, but not too far so I can't get to the shop every day. Maybe a dog or a cat... you're working in publishing or editing or doing whatever you want. And we're just... we're happy."

A grin flowers over Y/N's face. She wriggles her hand out of her pocket to grab Harry's, doing her best to give it a squeeze through the layers of their thick gloves.

"That sounds nice," she replies softly as they pass by the familiar shops on the way to Harry's apartment, "Do we get ever get engaged?"

Harry glances down to look at her, a small wrinkle between his eyebrows. "Only if you want that."

She hums. "I'd like that."

"Yeah?"

She nods as they approach the front of his building.

"Only if you let me get a real Christmas tree every year."

Harry laughs.

"I'll get you one every day if you let me marry you."

. . .

December 23, 2023

"I have an early Christmas present for you."

Y/N peers up at her boyfriend over the frames of her blue light glasses. She's finally finished with finals but has been checking her grades religiously, waiting for them to be posted. With the time she unintentionally took off this semester, she had to work harder than ever to make sure she passed everything.

"Are you trying to distract me from worrying about my grades?"

With a smirk, he shrugs his shoulders boyishly. "Maybe. We both know you killed it, dovie, there's no use in stressing."

She sighs lightly and closes her laptop, placing it on the coffee table.

"Plus, you deserve a reward for doing so well," he murmurs, sitting down next to her. "Do you want your gift?"

"I feel like you're gonna give it to me regardless of what I say."

"You know me well," he says through a laugh. "Alright, close your eyes."

She does as she's told, preparing herself for something silly, like a pack of her favorite Christmas cookies or a coupon for a kiss. Instead, when Harry tells her to open them, he's holding a massive, cuddly teddy bear.

"Oh," she smiles. "This is cute. I had one just like this at my parents' place."

"I know."

It's only when her eyes flitter to his face and she sees his smirk that she realizes he's recounting much dirtier memories than her. Instantly, she blushes, remembering how he somehow figured out what she'd done with her stuffed animals in the time they'd spent apart.

"Do you wanna show me how you did it?" he nearly purrs, kneeling down so he's eye level with her, "I've thought about it almost every day since you admitted to grinding your cute little pussy on your stuffed animals, thinking of me."

She nearly chokes on her spit. She doesn't think she'll ever get used to the way Harry can flip at a moment's notice, his demeanor switching from her sweet, kind boyfriend to a hot domineering version of himself that always manages to fluster her.

The thought of doing... that in front of him is somehow humiliating, even if he's done far dirtier things to her before. Still, though, she doesn't want to disappoint him, and she can't help that the prospect of being a little embarrassed is a turn-on for her — something she only discovered because of him.

"'kay," she breathes out with a small nod of her head.

"'kay?" he echoes with a chuckle, "You wanna show me, pup?"

"Mhm."

He places the teddy bear on its back on the carpeted floor before turning back around and holding his hands out. He guides her down, pretending not to notice the tremble in her hands, and presses a kiss to the side of her head. Ducking down slightly, he tells her she doesn't have to do anything she's uncomfortable with. She's quick to shake her head and give his hand a squeeze, mumbling out, "I want to."

He hopes that she knows well enough to exercise her right to consent at any point — they've had just about a thousand conversations about it over the past few months, and Y/N always swears up and down that she'll tell him if she feels even the tiniest smidge of discomfort.

She straddles the stuffed animal between her thighs like she's done it a million times before, and it makes Harry's stomach squeeze knowing that she has. Nibbling on her bottom lip, she pulls her thin sleep shorts to the side, revealing just the smallest bit of her mound to him.

"Show me, dove," he whispers, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. He places gentle hands at her hips as he slowly helps her rock forward, a breathy whimper falling from her lips almost immediately. "There you go, that's my good girl. Keep going."

She swallows harshly and repeats the same movement once more, allowing Harry's hands to fall more so in the background. He's not used to seeing his girl in control, but on the rare occasion where he does, it drives him absolutely insane.

With his knees pressing into the fluffy carpet of his living room floor, he suppresses a groan as he watches her; his sweet, soft girl in her flower-printed shorts as she trails deft fingers up to her chest, giving her breast a squeeze. His eyes roam over her body — the dimples in her thighs that appear as she grinds her hips, the slight jiggle in her ass punctuated by quiet moans. He gives her left hip a harsher squeeze to remind her that he's there and her eyes flutter open.

"Does it feel good?" he asks huskily. She nods quickly, though he can tell her thighs are beginning to strain. "Do you need daddy's help?"

He glances down to where her core meets the soft stuffing and smirks when he sees the matted material, a clear sign of her arousal dripping down. He sneaks a hand down below and cups her warm pussy.

"Let daddy have a look, yeah?" he mutters, pushing her body up so he can the study the mess between her legs. "This drippy and swollen just from humping a teddy bear?"

With flushed cheeks, she nods.

"Silly girl."

He lightly pushes her back down so her pussy makes contact with the wet spot she left behind. She gasps quietly as his hands find purchase back on her hips.

"Daddy'll help this desperate pussy cum, alright?"

In a moment, he's guiding her hips up and over the teddy bear, making it so she's doing minimal work. Her eyes fall closed again as her moans get louder and breathier, a telltale sign Harry's learned to look for and adore.

"Atta girl," he mutters lowly, "Let daddy do all the work. Can't believe how cock dumb you get from this— 's kinda pathetic, really."

"'s n-not," she utters through a whimper.

"No? 's not? Then how come you're about to cum from it?"

She wants to fight him on it, even if she normally never would. She's typically quite submissive and it's a dynamic they naturally fell into; one that they're both comfortable with. But with the growing stressors of school constantly thrumming through her brain and Harry's active attempts to teach her to better stand up for herself... well, he's the only person to blame for this sudden change in attitude, after all.

"'m not," she replies with a clenched jaw, holding in the moan threatening to spill from her spit swollen lips. He laughs humorlessly, quirking an eyebrow at her sudden boldness.

"You're not?" he asks, steadying his hands and stopping the rapid gyration of her hips. She puffs out a frustrated breath when he prevents her from moving, suddenly aware of how quickly her heart is beating. "I'd watch your mouth if I were you. I'll make sure you don't cum for days if you wanna act like a brat."

"I'm not being a brat."

Harry snorts and reaches for her hair, twisting his fist in it and pulling. She gasps.

"Say that again."

It's a threat and they both know it. He's curious to see where this goes — if she's really that set on this back-and-forth or if she's ready to be his good girl again.

With her head ducked back in his grasp, her throat bobbing with nerves, he's shocked by her response: "I'm not being a brat."

"Bullshit," he spits. In a second, the tight grip he has on her hair is released, but he's pushing her down, a hand between her shoulder blades so her core and chest are completely flush with the fluffy material. She sounds out a quick oh!, shivering slightly from the rough maneuver. "I'm done helping you. Get yourself off on your own, brat."

She feels like it's a test, but she's leaking now, humiliatingly so, so she issues a tentative roll of her hips, half-expecting some sort of teasing insult from him. He doesn't say a word but he's also removed his hands from her completely now. She feels empty without his touch, though the all-encompassing need to finish is expanding through her body, completely distracting her from any sort of normal response.

"Tell me when you're gonna cum." he says lowly. She nods, feeling his presence from behind her, almost emitting a taunting, looming air. It's only when she hears the familiar slick passes that she realizes he's not as unaffected as she assumed he was. It delivers an ego boost to her, swelling up in her chest as she moves her hips, grinding down against the fabric wet with her juices, knowing that her mean, grumpy boyfriend is watching and getting off to her.

The steady stimulation against her clit is so delicious that she's quick to get to the edge, clawing her fingernails into the carpet. Her jaw drops as she feels her muscles contracting, her eyes rolling back.

"Cum," she pants out in a whimpered tone, "G-gonna cum."

"Good girl."

She gasps from the full-body pleasure, her form shaking as she clutches to the floor for stability. Her orgasm is strong and occurs perfectly in tandem with Harry's, who she realizes is finishing just as she reaches the end of hers. She hears him groaning and it makes her clit buzz, and then feels streaks of hot cum painting her ass. She gasps out in surprise, her lower half still twitching from the intensity.

"Fuck, you're so fucking hot," Harry grunts through clenched teeth, "Fuck."

She continues laying there obediently, waiting for him to finish. She thinks she could fall asleep right here if she wanted to, but Harry is quick to maneuver his position so he's back on his knees in front of her.

"You okay, dove?" he asks gently, smoothing her hair. "Know that was a little rougher than normal. Was it okay?"

With a hazy smile, she nods. "Mhm."

"Alright," he chuckles. "I'm gonna go grab something to clean you up with. Stay here."

She listens to the sounds of him traipsing through his apartment, returning a few moments later with a damp washcloth. He cleans the mess between her thighs followed by the one he painted on her ass, then wraps an arm around her waist to guide her to his bedroom.

"Wait— I don't wanna go to sleep yet," she says with slightly rounded eyes. "It's almost Christmas and— well, we haven't, like, sat by the tree yet."

Harry raises his eyebrows, "Sat by the... tree?" he turns around, glancing at the Christmas tree they purchased a few weeks back, when Y/N originally asked if they could get a real one. If he's being honest, it was overpriced and they haven't been taking the best care of it, so he assumes it'll be dead shortly after Christmas. (He's kind of dreading having to take it out because he's nervous she'll get sad.)

"Yeah... when I was a kid, I always wanted to sit by a real Christmas tree and drink hot chocolate and watch a movie." she explains with a small shrug, "We don't have to do that though, I know you're probably tired from work—"

"I'd love to," Harry's quick to cut her off with a shake of his head. "Why don't you go and put some sweats on and I'll make our hot chocolates, okay?"

"Really?"

He chuckles softly. "Dovie, I'm not sure how you haven't realized this yet, but I would do anything for you."

Her grin is so wide that Harry hopes it never leaves her face.

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