1st Feb - Text With FWB Harry, Part 2, Texting with uni bf harry, Texting with older bf harry part 2 by @ladyg1rll || Surprise by @deliriumwriting (boyfriend harry, birthday surprise, smut) || Texting Harry by @zclhes || Never Sleep Again by @watchmegetobsessed (bestfriend harry, fluff, smut, angst with a happy ending)
2nd - Love Me by @ladyg1rll (boyfriend harry, frat harry, fluff, smut, this is actually cute hehe) || Extra Thick Icing by @ijustmissyouraccenths (boyfriend harry, his birthday celebration, really wholesome)
3rd - Mean King Part 10 by @gurugirl (my favourite king and queen are back, i missed them so much, I love them so fucking much) || Birthday Kisses by @musicforastylesrestaurant (birthday blurb with a bit smut)
4th - Flower Crowns by @musicforastylesrestaurant (bodyguard harry, it's really sad y'all) || Yes, Sir, Please, Sir by @maladaptivescorpio (ceo harry, assistant reader, smutty blurbs)
5th - Birthday Sex by @maudie-duan (ex harry, it's all filthy hot smut) || Aster extras: jealous, sleepy by @moonchildstyles
6th - Delicate text extra, HTADACM: The Color Wheel, Disturbing The Peace by @harrywavycurly (neighbour harry, banter, fluff, smut) || aster extra: drunk by @moonchildstyles ||
10th - Text With FWB Harry Part 3 by @ladyg1rll || Texting Older Bf Harry part 10 & part 11, Texting uni harry after a date, Texting bf harry when you're horny by @zclhes || Ruined Silk by @unabashegirl (enemies to lovers, hate sex...kind of, lots of arguments and frustration and back forth, smut, some soft moments at the end) || Different era harry reacting to reader having tummy ache by @watermelonlovershigh || I Bought A Cow by @harrywavycurly (this is so fucking cute i can't)
11th-13th - Y/N has a bookstore and Harry owns the shop next door, Part 2, check-in by @jawllines (tattoo artist harry, this was really sweet)
18th - My Wife by @watchmegetobsessed (husband harry, mob boss harry, lots of delicious tension, smut)
23rd - Bad Boyfriend by @fkingstyles (boyfriend harry, little bit of subrry, bit of angst, I wanna smack him hard) || Delicate: Jealous by @harrywavycurly (I missed them so much, my little muffin and her bestie-sugardaddy-boyfriend)
24th - Can You Hear Me Now? by @maladaptivescorpio (boyfriend harry, jealous reader, kinda dom reader, kinda subby harry, smut, his ex on the phone, love love love this one, it's soooo hot) || Knock Twice: Galentine's Day by @harrywavycurly (brother's bestfriend harry, boyfriend harry, narry banter, fluff, smut)
28th - Y/N and Harry have the meet-ugly of the century by @jawllines (assassin harry, might not be for everyone cause there's some triggering things, otherwise it's very silly goofy sweet)
warnings: smut, obsessive behavior, Harry is a certified asshole (not to you duh), minor language, protective behavior, slightly ditzy reader, minor mentions of anxiety, small emotional moments (you just have a lot of feelings okay?), minor threats of violence (keep your hands and feet to yourself plz)
model!Y/N & ceo!Harry by @and-im-okay-with-it
summary: Where Y/N is a famous super model & shes married to privacy-obsessed, kinda rude but soft on the inside ceo!Harry
pairing: ceo!harry x model!reader
warnings:
DATING AND ENGAGED, PREGNANCY/BIRTH, KIDS, BLURBS W/ JUST YN & H, BLURBS WITH THE BABIES by @erodasfishtacos
summary:
pairing: ceo!harry x fem!reader
warnings: angst, smut
Table 11 by @this-is-tiny-mia
summary: An encounter at a restaurant brings together Y/N, a hardworking waitress with little time for love, and Harry, a successful yet guarded man who fears opening up. Both hesitant to risk their hearts, they find themselves drawn to each other, their bond growing through late-night conversations, stolen moments, and quiet acts of understanding.
pairing: ceo!harry x fem!reader
warnings: A tiny bit of angst, use of y/n, casual alcohol consumption over dinner, 700 words of SMUT at the end, use of puppy and daddy, unprotected sex.
bambi | part 2 by @finelinefae
summary: y/n tries a dating app and meets the CEO of Pleasing
pairing: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n
warnings: deer!reader vibes, dating app, online dating, deer!reader, first date, first kiss, fluff, age gap (9 years)
DATING FOR TWO by @eileenrry
summary: Harry grows a delicate relationship with you alongside maintaining his family situation
pairing: CEO/Single Dad!Harry x Fem!reader
warnings: fluff, angst, smut if you squint, mentions of sex, Harry is sappy and in love
CH.3 BARE FROM WE CAN TRY SERIES
✶ pairing: Uni/Roommate/Best Friend!Harry x Inexperienced Fem!reader
✶ summary: Harry wants to do more with you but your insecurities get in the way. Luckily, he helps you overcome them and makes you cum again (with his mouth).
✶ word count: 9.8K
✶ contains: fluff, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering if you squint, kissing, shaving, lots of insecurities, pet names, praise
✶ a/n: Gave myself a deadline to finish this by the end of January, it turned into a little (long) Harry birthday gift! Though half a year gap between chapters is actually so embarrassing. This one has a slice of life and some smut as a cherry on the top! I want to get fully back to writing so we’ll see how it goes! Thanks to all who still remembers WCT and welcome to everyone who haven’t read the series yet!
would be grateful for any feedback, ideas, anything! My dms are always open!
✶ click here for ➵ CH.1 KISS, CH.2 TIGER, HEADCANONS
✶ click here for ➵ MASTERPOST ⋆˚ ౨ৎ ⋆.˚
ALL MY LOVE AND TPWK, E
The morning was like any other — slow in that stereotypical, half-asleep way. You stood in the kitchen in your fuzzy socks and an oversized hoodie that nearly swallowed you whole, the plethora of fabrics pleasingly soft against your skin. The hum of your old fridge you had after your grandparents filled the silence as you waited for the toasts to pop, and your hands were cupped around your favorite mug with coffee inside just how you liked it - dark but not too sweet, bitter enough to wake you up.
From Harry’s bedroom came the faint yet rhythmic sound of his snoring, muffled only by the paper-thin walls of your shared apartment, but somehow still present, the heaviness of sleep still lingered in the air.
It was Monday. Another siren’s call from university, ready to trap you into another endless cycle of lectures, deadlines and exhaustion. You had a long day full of classes ahead and so did Harry, though he never really seemed to care. He never did. And yet, somehow, he always got through everything effortlessly, barely trying and with B’s at the end of the semester. Sometimes you joked about him visiting his teachers during their office hours for securing those grades with just a drop of sweat on his forehead for the work, and he always only smirked at your loud thinking.
He was smart, but a slacker through and through. University had been his mothers dream, not his. He was much more simple, romantic, rather enjoying his bohemian lifestyle than studying. Play in a band, write poems about his lovers, never grow up. School was pointless in this direction, he claimed that proudly.
A soft creak of the door and a muttered curse pulled you back from your thoughts, breaking the comfortable stillness. You glanced up at the source of sound just when the toasts popped and you were spreading strawberry jam across the crispy surface with learned precision.
In the open space stood a girl. She was barefoot, her body snuggled in one of Harry’s shirts you knew too well and the fabric barely covered her bottom, just grazed tops of her thighs lightly. Her cheeks flushed red immediately when she saw you in the kitchen, the realization slowly sinking in. Even though Harry had mentioned something about a roommate while they stumbled in the threshold of your apartment last night, tangled up and sucking on each other’s tongues, she hadn’t expected you to be the roommate. A girl.
“Hi,” Your tone was welcoming and warm, practiced on tons of girls from before, and the easiest thing to do was offering a genuine smile to this one too. This kind of morning was nothing new. By now, the sight of a half-naked girl didn’t faze you in the slightest. “Want a cup of coffee? Or tea?”
She looked like everything you only wished to be. She was beautiful in the way ‘Playboy magazines’ in Harry’s bedroom promised. Hot and sexy, with flawless skin and soft lips, the type of a woman that made men lose their minds in bed. And Harry was losing his mind very loudly last night.
“Oh, um… no, that’s okay. Maybe, uh, where’s the bathroom?” Her voice was small. She was looking around, on her right and left, unsure of which door led wherever, to the quickest escape from you.
You nodded toward the door on her right. “Just there.”
She disappeared almost immediately, silence leaving with her. You heard the flush of the toilet, the rush of running water, and then nothing, just the familiar hum of the fridge again.
You were halfway through your toast when Harry (finally) appeared, emerging from his bedroom in nothing but a pair of boxers, unbothered, his long hair a tangled mess. Without a word, his tattooed arm slipped around your waist from behind, finding home underneath your hoodie as he pulled you back in his chest.
“What are we eating?” He murmured into your neck, voice still rough with sleep. His fingers traced lazy patterns across your abdomen before he reached forward with his free arm, stealing the toast straight from your hand.
“I had a toast” You said with a roll of your eyes but no actual annoyance, turning slightly toward him to see his sleepy face better. His jaw was tightening lightly with every bite he took and the few days old stubble on his cheeks he was too lazy to shave accompanied it. “There’s a fresh coffee if you want”
Harry only grinned, crumbs from the toast catching at the corners of his mouth. “You’re the best” Harry mumbled with a full mouth and pressed a chaste kiss on your neck, out of habit, leaving there a smear of jam with his lips, yet didn’t make any attempt at letting go. He craved your warmth more than you realised. Mornings were quite cold lately.
You stood like that for a while, each of you chewing at your toasts and swaying slightly to the rhythm of Harry’s quiet humming. To a stranger, it might have looked domestic. To you, it was something impossible to name.
“Harry, do you—oh.”
The girl appeared again in the kitchen and her voice died in her throat as she took in the scene unravelling in front of her. You saw the moment realization hit her. The way her expression faltered. “I uh… I should probably go. I have a class at nine. Yeah….” She stuttered, too stunned to say more, and clutched the towel around her body tighter, suddenly feeling too exposed to the two pairs of eyes watching her.
And Harry didn’t even turn. Not even a flinch of a muscle. He just hummed in acknowledgement and tightened his hold on you, as if she could do anything to his sweet best friend. His eyes met hers for only a second and didn’t tell much, just like every other time to the same girls before her, not even when they were writhing under him and moaning his name. They remained empty, nothing but a mirror for them to watch themselves in.
“Okay,” He said finally, the words coming past his lips almost as a tired sigh. “I’ll see you around, then?”
Another girl from Harry’s bed was gone. Leaving your apartment with the same furrow between her brows and a frown tugging at her lips as all the ones before her. Closing the front door shut behind her, she locked you two in your little bubble again
The only thing that remained though was the scent of strawberry jam lingering in the air.
Soon, the two of you were out the door. Harry trailed a few steps behind you, nursing the post-sex aura graciously (and your pink bag over his shoulder), and flicked through a dozen unread messages on his phone, dismissing them all with a simple ‘Not tonight babe, text me another day okay? x’ like if nothing in the world mattered more than listening to you chatter his ears away about everything and nothing at all.
You had the first class together, even the universe itself didn’t seem to want to part your ways. Harry was in his seat restless as usual, and when the idea of focusing on the topic started getting too boring, he abandoned his laptop. Instead of taking notes, he began writing his thoughts onto small pieces of paper and threw them under your nose to get your attention, when his own couldn’t be where it should be.
You rolled your eyes at his attempt to distract you, stoically setting the crumpled papers aside to read it later. But when another landed on your keyboard, followed quickly by third and then fourth, your curiosity won. Despite your best efforts to remain serious, the corners of your mouth twitched upwards as you read his scrabbles and shot him mock-stern look after each one before folding the “letters” neatly and tucking them between the pages of your textbook.
An hour before lunch break, the clock ticked with agonizing slowness, as if time mocked Harry. He sat in his Philosophy class and rather surely was losing his mind over the professor’s abstract theories. Though she had his bonus points for wearing that pretty blouse with polka dots, the fabric low-cut enough to show off her cleavage perfectly. At least something had his attention.
On the other side of the building, you were focused, typing down every word your professor of Art history uttered, until a spam of messages from Harry made your phone ring loudly through the room, making you jump on the spot and curse under your breath for forgetting to put your phone on a ‘silent mode’.
And even under the stern, over-the-glasses glare from your professor to ignore whatever disturbed his speech, you sneaked your phone under the desk anyway and laughed quietly to yourself, beaming at the messages your best friend sent you.
Harry was already waiting outside your classroom, leaning casually against the wall, counting down the seconds until your professor was kind enough to dismiss your class. When you finally emerged among the last of the students like you usually did, he was on you in an instant. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, showing his affection to the entire hallway. Something people and you were used to at this point.
“Oh was it that bad?” You laughed, your voice laced with a hint of amusement at his sudden clinginess. You found yourself in the same position you’d been in the morning and even when you tried to wiggle out of his grasp to get moving, he wouldn't budge. “C’mon Harry! I’m hungry!”
The night was colder than usual when you noticed Harry’s silhouette out on the balcony. He stood shirtless, only a pair of grey sweatpants hung low on his hips as a thin trail of smoke curled from the cigarette between his lips and his eyes scanned over the dark sky decorated with shining stars, distant and quiet, mirroring his thoughts.
You didn't remember falling asleep, but the absence of his warmth beside you had woke you up. With a pained groan, you pushed yourself slowly upright from whatever uncomfortable position you had collapsed into and stretched your arms above your head, letting out a quiet yawn. The TV still played in the background, but now on a lower volume, and the episode of the series you had on passed whatever moment you last remembered, though you didn’t bother to care. For a moment, you lingered in the soft cushions, disoriented and a little drowsy, before you finally stood.
Your steps were slow, hesitant, as if you didn’t want to intrude on whatever quiet moment Harry had carved out for himself, or maybe to save yourself a few extra seconds to admire his perfectly toned back from all the hours of working out.
“Hey,” You murmured, your voice small and still heavy on sleep as you slipped your arms around his waist from behind and pressed your face deeper into the warm skin between his shoulder blades.
“What are you doing here, sweetheart? Thought you were asleep.” His free hand reached back to find your side and grazed the skin of your thigh just below the hem of your skimpy shorts with his fingers tenderly.
“Warming you up.” You mumbled into his skin, the sound of your voice muffled but still clear enough for Harry to make out every word. “Don’t want you to get cold.”
“And you won’t get cold in this little tee and bare feet, y’want to tell me?” His accent broke through the stillness of the moment, a gentle tease obvious in his voice as he slid his hand up and tugged at your shirt playfully, making his point. His cigarette was soon flicked into the ashtray on a small wooden table before he finally turned around to face your pretty pout.
“Stop it.”
“I’m just teasing you, baby. You know that!” He cupped your cheeks gently in an attempt to soothe your distress and rubbed slow soothing circles over your freckles, mapping each one with a careful press of his thumbs.
“I meant the smoking. Quit it. Please. Why do you even do it?” You huffed, your brows furrowed and frown decorated your lips. Your frustration soft but sincere. You didn’t like Harry’s bad habit. You hated it. The years he’d had it, the countless attempts to make him stop that never stuck.
“It quiets my head.” He said softly. “Takes every thought out for a minute.”
His right hand moved from your cheek, tracing down the line of your jaw before settling in the mess of your hair. Slowly, he guided you back toward the door, each step deliberate so you wouldn’t trip over the threshold. “It’s different than what you get from… orgasm for example. More bitter. But you,” His fingers toyed with a strand of your hair. “You’re a sweet thing. So good to me. Always looking out for my lungs. ’M sorry for making you worry so much…”
You tightened your grip on his sides just a little, the need to be close to him supporting it only. Lately, every touch from him made you giddy. It felt charged, electric. Something behind the traces of his fingers and kisses everywhere on your face changed. Something you couldn’t quite figure out.
The moment the balcony door clicked shut behind you, the atmosphere shifted into a much warmer and intimate kind. Harry fell back onto the couch with a pleased, lazy grin, tugging you down with him in one smooth, practiced motion. Another routine, one of the few you never minded. Just newly found closeness and kissing.
You straddled his hips without waiting for a cue, your muscle memory guiding you. You felt like a pro at this mundane thing by now. Your knees sank comfortably in the cushions and your body settled over his just in the way that made you both let out a happy sight.
There was less embarrassment and more courage in your movements, though the clumsiness and inexperience were still very present. And Harry was more than okay with it. He loved it actually. The reckless grinds of your hips over his tattooed thigh and hungry lips that still didn’t maintain the art of kissing perfectly. The rushed releases and messy kisses he always met with a low laugh or a breathless hum at your desperation, maybe even horniness. His sweet innocent best friend wasn’t quite so innocent anymore.
“You had a good nap, sweetheart? You must’ve been so exhausted. You were out like a light.” His eyes searched yours when you were close to him again, so close your breath mingled with his own, as he remembered how sleepy you were when you finally got home after the day full of classes. Cradling your face again in his big palms and squishing your cheeks gently like something precious, he leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss in the crown of your head. The height difference made it effortless for him.
“Mhm, was good. Always sleep good with you.” You murmured as you leaned into him, burying your face in the slope of his shoulder. His profile looked unfairly perfect from this angle. His cheeks covered in a few days old stubble, jaw sharper than a knife and his curls tickled your face lightly with every small movement.
Harry didn’t respond, just let out a quiet hum in acknowledgement before he turned his head toward you. Your noses brushed immediately given the closeness, and the moment he noticed the heat rising beneath your skin, whether from the cold air outside you’d found him in or from being too close, he leaned in.
The first kiss was gentle, a soft press of lips to lips. But minutes stretched, breaths mingled, and the gentleness frayed into something deeper and hungrier until you were kissing him in that familiar untamed rhythm you both knew too well, full of teeth clashing and heat blooming between you.
“So sweet,” He moaned and licked into your mouth eagerly as if to confirm his statement. You were dangerous to him. Better yet worse than a pack of cigarettes. You were killing him the same way. Maybe even more. Making him breathless and reaching after you always in need. And he was already far too deep in whatever this was between you to pretend he could ever walk away from it.
Your head spun at the taste of him on your tongue. Taste so unmistakably and utterly his you’d grown starved for. You’d never imagined kissing could feel like this, like something that seeped under your skin and settled there, permanent.
You giggled at his praises, the kind he never offered lightly, the kind meant only for you. Absentmindedly, you rocked your hips on his lap, receiving a low, unguarded groan that vibrated through you.
“Sweetheart,” Harry rasped, his voice wrapped rough around the warning, but nonetheless bad or scolding. Just an acknowledgement of the effect you had on him. His mouth left yours slowly, trailing over your cheek, along your jaw, settling in the curve where your neck met your shoulder to press a few lingering love bites deep in your skin. He nuzzled in you, breathed in the smell of your body wash and the softness your body lotion left behind.
“Sorry” Your voice lingered in the air, the word small and shy. Still, your arms looped around his neck, holding him as close as possible.
Harry held you gently in his arms. One hand cradled your head, the other settled at your lower back as he carefully shifted, guiding you down onto the couch, all without pulling away from your neck. His body slotted perfectly between your legs as his kisses trailed lower, over your covered chest and stomach, until your shirt rode up beneath his hands and his attention settled somewhere new. Somewhere unexplored.
“What are you doing?” You whimpered at the unexpected touch as his face disappeared against your stomach.
He was leaving soft kisses around your stomach, some quiet and feather-like, some playful with leaving a loud ‘mwah’ behind, and nibbling at the plush skin of your abdomen you’d spent years trying not to think about. He worshiped you like the goddess you were in his eyes and didn’t need a single word to prove it. “Loving on my girl. Such a nice and soft tummy.”
“Harry…” Your breath shook as your hands tangled in his messy hair, fingers gripping instinctively. Your insides felt funny. Everything unsteady and buzzing. Harry always did that to you. Made your body react before your mind could catch up. With any touch at any place. But still beneath the heat, something else stirred. Something tight and uncomfortable. You didn’t want the insecurities to get in the way, but it was getting harder with every kiss he uttered lower and lower and every dip of his fingers under the hem of your shorts.
“Harry…” You repeated yourself, your voice much quieter now you didn’t even think he could hear you. But he did. He stilled immediately when he heard the broken tone. “I don’t- I uh- I’m not sure about this. Don’t get me wrong, I would like uh that but…”
“Hey, hey, it’s okay” Harry lifted himself up from your stomach and crawled back up to face you properly again. His left hand rested next to your head now, supporting his body, as his other cupped your cheek, grounding you. “What is it? Talk to me.”
You stared up at him, overwhelmed by the concern in his eyes and how easily he could read you. He always knew when your thoughts spiralled or when the words tangled before they ever reached your lips.
“I don’t know.” You huffed, frustration palpable in your voice.
“You know, baby. I know you do.” Harry pushed gently, not wanting to be harsh, only to show you the way to go. His thumb brushed across your cheek in soothing circles, then tugged a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I need to know. Otherwise we can’t do anything. Yeah?”
“Did you… want to go down on me?” You asked him bluntly, swallowing the nerves with one question with a sudden rush of courage. You didn’t want to have the wrong idea about this, but you were very confident now in the growing knowledge you had.
The question lingered between you, fragile and exposed. He didn’t answer right away, his eyes searched for yours, not because he was unsure, but because he wanted to be careful with you. With this.
“Yeah, I did.” He said finally. Quiet, honest. “But only if you want me to. You know I’d never do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
Your chest tightened at his confession. The care and love that present in his words. You had thought about this type of act before, more than you would like to admit, especially with him in the picture. Still, you’d never truly believed it could happen to you. The thought thrilled you and terrified you all at once.
“I would want that with you, oh god yeah, but-” You stuttered over your words, hands curling nervously into the fabric beneath you. “It’s embarrassing.”
Harry’s expression softened instantly, something unguarded flickering across his face. He shifted closer, lowering himself so your foreheads touched, noses brushing, the weight of his body comfortingly enveloping you.
“Hey, look at me. Let me see those beautiful eyes.” He murmured softly, as if he was afraid to break this moment. His fingers didn’t stop at caressing your face, the soft touches continued despite the quiet tension humming in the air. “There you go, sweets.”
“There is nothing, and I mean nothing, embarrassing about this. Okay? But if you don’t feel like trying that, that’s okay too. I won’t be mad. Could never be.”
Your eyes searched his for anything that could be telling you a different story, even though deep down you knew he would never lie to you. Not when it came to this intimate topic that became more open between the two of you lately. All you found was patience. Understanding. That familiar warmth in the green of his eyes that had always made you feel safe.
“I didn’t shave.” You admitted at last, the words tumbling out in a rush, and squeezed your eyes shut immediately after, bracing yourself, suddenly mortified at your confession. Saying this out loud to your best friend of years felt mortifying.
“What?” Harry breathed out in disbelief, the corners of his mouth quivering upward into a small subtle smile.
“Forget about it. It’s stupid. This never happened. Why would it? Just… forget about it.” You dismissed the idea quickly, your words dripping with low confidence, the frantic opposite of his, breathless from how fast you tried to get out of this situation. You shoved at his chest, desperate to escape the weight of his gaze and hide in the safety of your bedroom. But he didn’t budge. He remained anchored above you, as unmovable as a stone.
“No, no, no…” He tutted softly at your vain attempt to flee. He caught your hand and placed it down by your body, before sliding his thumb over your bottom lip, drawing your eyes on his effectively. “Should that be a problem? That you didn’t shave your pussy?”
The bluntness of the question made you scrunch your nose. Even the most normal words sounded vulgar when they left his lips, and hearing him talk about those parts of you made your heart stutter.
“Harry!” You huffed in protest, heat flooding your cheeks. You shielded your face behind your hands, peeking at him occasionally through the narrow gaps between your fingers. “Don’t talk like that! I’m being serious here! It’s… it’s gross!”
“Gross? Oh, baby...” Harry shook his hand fondly at your distress. He covered your hand with his, not forcing them away from your face, but simply rubbing your knuckles in soothing motions, hoping it’d calm you down. “It’s not gross. A little pubic hair never killed anyone. Especially me.”
You could hear the smugness in his voice. The quiet pride of a man who knew exactly what he liked. You dared to open your eyes and peeked at him once more, only to be met with that wide grin and dimples in his cheeks you loved to poke. In that moment, you absolutely hated him for being so effortless.
“I’d have to kick every other girl out of my bed if I cared about them being shaved and perfectly smooth. I don’t mind it. It’s their body. Your body. It's not my place to fuss about it. And also it’s completely normal. You’re clean, you’re beautiful… your pubic hair could never gross me out.”
“I haven't showered yet today,…” You mumbled, the confession barely a whisper against your palms.
“Good for me then, I love when pussy smells like pussy.” Harry leaned forward, his lips brushing the shell of your ear with a teasing note. He had you. Slowly but surely cracking and opening up. He didn’t want you to be scared or embarrassed to talk about this. To him, it was human. Normal. And he wanted that for you too. He wanted you to know the pleasure of touch.
“I would like to try, it’s just…” You finally let your hands drop, resting them on your stomach as you began to pick at the hem of your shirt. Why was this so difficult to say out loud? “It’s weird. You being between my legs when I’m all- I don’t really know how to shave, okay? Like down there. Every time I try, I- I just end up with razor bumps and it’s so itchy.”
“Is that all, baby? Is that what bothers you?” He asked softly, receiving only a shy nod in response.
“Hey, it’s okay. There’s no need to be embarrassed.” He murmured, leaning in until his forehead rested against yours. “ I told you, I don’t mind the hair. It’s part of you. However you look down there, I still want you.”
He began to litter the side of your face with small, feather-like kisses, a deliberate distraction from the shame pooling in your chest. “And if you want to try this, but feel self-conscious about yourself, which again you don’t have to be, I can help with that. I want you to be comfortable, to feel nice. My sweet girl.”
Your heart gave a violent thud against your ribs, the rhythm ringing so loudly in your ears you were certain he could feel it through your skin. “Help me? How?”
“I mean I can do it for you,” He corrected gently. “I’ve been shaving my own face and groin since I was a teenager. I have a practice. Would prep your skin, shave you, use some oil to keep you nice and smooth so it doesn’t itch later. And then we can try something new. How does that sound, baby? Would you let me take care of you?”
The thought of having the most intimate parts exposed to Harry sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t the act itself that scared you as much as what he would think of you. Harry was close to being an expert. He’d seen so many women, held so many bodies, most likely perfect in every way. You felt so starkly different from the girls he usually had in his bed. The insecurities were loud in your head, making you often question why he would bother being this patient with someone this inexperienced like you. But the look in his eyes, so steady and sincere made you choose not to ask. You didn’t want to ruin whatever special was between the two of you.
“You’d really do that? You want to do that?” The disbelief in your voice made your words shake.
“Of course. You know I would do anything for you.” Harry smiled widely at your question and leaned down again, pressing a lingering kiss in the corner of your mouth. “I want to make you feel good.”
Another kiss, soft and slow.
“I want you to feel pretty and confident in your own skin. With me.”
A third kiss, more firm this time.
“I want to see you. Feel you. Know every inch.” He lingered there, his breath hot against your lips. “And if helping you with this means you don’t have to worry your little head over it later when my mouth’s on you… then let me do it.”
“You’re crazy.” A small smile finally made it on your lips. You took a moment to just look at him, memorizing every freckle and the familiar contour of his jaw once again, as if you didn’t know it already by heart.
“For you only, sweetheart.” He pecked your lips one last time before pulling away and standing up from the couch. He held out a hand, his expression bright and encouraging. “C’mon then. Lemme show you how it’s done.”
You remembered vividly the day you saw your apartment for the first time. It was barely a home, just a shell furnished with a single couch that had springs peeking through the fabric and you threw it away two weeks after moving in, and the squeaky bed Harry still slept in and somehow it survived the years. Kitchen big enough for dancing, living room promising your movie nights and two bedrooms you could call yours.
And then there was the bathroom. You heartily laughed when you saw it. The apartment was small, almost bursting at the seams while trying to accommodate two lives, yet it featured a massive, grand corner bathtub. It felt utterly ridiculous. But before you could even object, Harry was already signing the lease, seeing the landlord off with an infectious, excited grin.
At that time, you were living separately. It was the start of your years at university. Everything wild and new, yet you still made time for each other. You hung out after classes in the afternoons and evenings, had more study sessions, grabbed a coffee together whenever you could.
The big change in your lives happened one late evening in the library. Instead of studying, you poured your heart out to him, explaining your current situation that had been tugging at your nerves. Your roommate at that time had her boyfriend moving into your shared space and you knew sleeping on the couch in their new lover's nest couldn’t do it. And Harry? He was tired of the relentless noise of the frat house and craved more intimate space. It was a perfect match.
Now, given the new situation Harry brought you in, you couldn’t be happier about that ridiculous corner bathtub. It didn’t feel like a joke anymore, but a wide, warm space for the two of you to sit and explore. To learn. To be intimate.
When you stepped into the bathroom, you watched him, momentarily dazed. Maybe from the nerves that were quietly bubbling in your stomach. Maybe from something deeper. He tugged down his sweatpants and kicked them messily next to the hamper, leaving him clad only in a pair of black boxers. “Don’t want the sweatpants getting wet. Is this okay with you?”
You nodded slowly, your breath catching. You were mesmerised by him. Even though you had seen him like this countless times, the sight of his almost naked glory never failed to leave you in awe. The map of his tattoos and hard lines of his muscles. He was a man to die for.
“Now let’s get you out of these, yeah?” Harry murmured softly and stepped closer, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. He could sense the slight tremor of your nerves and made it his personal mission to ease every doubt.
He continued trailing feather-light kisses all over your face, the sensation making a breathless giggle escape your lips. Moving with agonizing slowness, his lips ghosting over your neck and chest, he sank to his knees in front of you, watching you with the most boyish grin and digging his fingers into the waistband of your shorts.
“My sweet girl… still doing alright?” Harry asked, his thumbs massaging the skin over your hipbones, putting the right amount of pressure, just to hold you close, before he pressed a lingering kiss to your stomach, waiting for you to give him a consenting nod.
Your skimpy shorts were tugged down your legs with ease, each foot guided out of the fabric and the garment tossed next to Harry’s discarded sweatpants. For a moment, everything stopped and Harry simply watched you, taking you all in. His eyes lingered on the plush curve of your thighs and soft texture of your skin. He traced the silver path of the stretch marks you usually tried to hide, the ones that made you feel exposed in the summer sun. And he loved it all.
Though your panties were still hidden beneath the hem of your oversized shirt, Harry’s calloused fingers found the lace easily. He kept his eyes locked on yours as he slowly stripped the last of your clothing away. Not looking, not pushing your shirt up to take a peek. He tossed your underwear aside and pressed one more reassuring kiss to your stomach before standing up to meet your lips.
“Thank you,” You breathed, reaching after him with shaky hands. Your head a mush of thoughts and feelings, and nothing has happened yet.
Harry moved around the bathroom with ease, prepping everything he needed by the bathtub as you quietly watched him, mentally taking notes. He brought your favourite candle from the living room to set the mood and set aside your bathrobe if you’d want it later. Just the smallest gestures made the knots in your stomach begin to loosen.
“You still sure about this?” He gently rubbed your arms when he stepped back towards you, perched on the edge of the tub and tugging on your shirt to keep yourself covered for a moment longer.
“Yeah. Yeah, I am. You’re- you’re being so nice about this…” You swallowed hard, standing tall in front of him as if to prove your resolve.
“Of course I am, baby. You deserve this.” Harry pecked your lips one last time and with a supportive squeeze on your shoulders, he stepped into the bathtub, settling onto the corner seat with his legs spread and patted his thigh. “Come here.”
You obediently climbed in after him, finding your footing on the ceramic before he guided you onto his lap, positioning you to his liking. With your back pressed against his bare chest and your legs draped over his knees, you were held open for him.
He felt a shiver run through your body when the cold air hit your bare core and pulled you closer, anchoring you in his strong arms. His lips ghosted over your neck again, peppering your skin with small kisses to calm you down. He couldn’t keep his mouth away from you.
“Is it okay if I take a peek now? Can I see you, love?” His voice was muffled against your skin, but the question was clear. You nodded quickly.
“Words, baby” Harry scolded you gently, his lips grazing your cheek.
“Yeah, it’s okay” You whispered in the quiet room, your eyes fluttering shut. You weren’t ready to face his reaction, or yourself.
Harry gathered the fabric of your shirt, bunching it just under your belly button with one hand, while the other started to slowly rub your thigh in a soothing manner. “So pretty. So so pretty. The prettiest.”
“Harry!” You huffed in protest, maybe an embarrassment. You tilted your head back against his shoulder and hid your face in the crook of his neck, your cheek turning red.
He trailed his fingers over your skin slowly before stopping at your mound and brushing your hair just briefly. With no judgment, no shame, only care. You were so precious to him. And so beautiful. Seeing this part of you didn’t just satisfy the curiosity that had been growing within him for a while, but made his heart skip a beat.
“Shhhh, baby. No need to fuss now. You are so beautiful,” Harry murmured against the shell of your ear. The vibration of his low voice sent a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the chill of the bathroom air. He pressed one more lingering kiss to the side of your neck for good measure, his stubble grazing your skin, before resting his chin on your shoulder. His gaze dropped, settling between your thighs with furrowed brows and focused look, yet some sort of adoration. “Open your eyes, sweetheart.”
With a shaky sigh, you mustered the courage and blinked your eyes open. The light in the bathroom felt bright and almost too harsh on your eyes, reflecting off the tiles, and making you feel painfully exposed. You took a second to adjust, your heart beating wildly against your ribs, before you reluctantly bowed your head to look down at yourself.
“I’m gross” You huffed and tilted your head back again.
“Baby!” He protested immediately, his voice taking on a more serious and scolding tone, demanding your attention. “You are not gross! You are the most beautiful sweet thing I’ve ever seen. Shaved or not. Understood? Don’t talk yourself down. You know I hate when you do that.”
“Okay,” You whispered, though your bottom lip stuck out in a pout.
Harry’s lips met your skin for the millionth time that night, his face snuggling into the crook of your neck. He stayed there for a moment, just breathing you in, offering the silent comfort he knew you needed. “We’re gonna start slow,” he promised, his breath hot against your throat. “I’ll trim the hair first, yeah? Nothing scary. Just me and you.”
He reached for the scissors he’d brought from the kitchen and with a final, reassuring kiss to your shoulder, he started working on his promise. The sharp snipping sound of the blades was the only sound that cut through the heavy silence, mixed with the ragged breathing of yours. You tried to get a hold of yourself, but the air felt thick with a mix of tension and vulnerability.
His fingers moved with precision, careful not to touch your core or your skin directly yet. Occasionally, the brush of the cold metal against your thigh made you shiver, but his steady presence kept you grounded.
“All done!” Harry announced in a soft murmur, knowing you had your eyes still squeezed shut and not watching a single thing. “Can you look at me? Sweetheart, can I see your eyes?”
He reached up, cupping your cheek with his large hand, and guided your face toward his. When you finally looked up at him, it felt like his eyes were staring through your soul. You felt like you could drown in the forest-green of his eyes and die a happy woman.
“Please, baby, don’t be scared with me,” He pleaded softly. “I want to make you feel good.”
He leaned in, pecking your lips before nuzzling his nose against yours. It was a tender, domestic gesture that shattered the last of your defences. You whimpered in the kiss, chasing his lips when he tried to pull away, seeking the safety of his mouth. You kissed him deeply, desperately, trying to silence every single thought in your head.
Every single whisper of ”You’re fat. You’re ugly. You’re disgusting. Your stretch marks look horrible. How can Harry even like you? You’re never gonna be like the girls he sleeps with.” lost all the importance in this moment. The thoughts were there, but turned more distant with the weight of Harry’s strong arms around your frame and the solid, muscular chest pressed against your back.
Harry moved on to the next step of the routine with a focused, quiet intensity. He ran a soft washcloth under the tap, waiting until the water was steaming, nearly scalding, before wringing it out carefully. He watched the steam curl off the fabric, then he pressed it gently against your skin.
You felt tears prickle in the corners of your eyes at the feeling. Your hips buckled instinctively into his touch at the contrasting temperature and you reached back, your fingers gripping his hand where it rested steady on your waist.
“Mhm Harry” You whimpered quietly and intertwined your fingers. As the warmth soaked into your skin, your body began to go pliant, your muscles finally unspooling.
“I know, I know. You’re doing so good for me, baby. Is this still alright? We can stop anytime.” Harry nosed at your warm cheek and pressed a lingering salt-sweet kiss there.
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” The words tumbled out of your mouth in a rush, carrying a hint of nerves as you spoke. “Don’t stop,” You added quickly after. The mere thought of him pulling away now made your pulse thrum with a sudden, desperate need.
His hand kept working on your core with confident strokes, softening your skin. He touched you everywhere yet purposely avoided your most intimate center, though you found yourself secretly craving that contact.
Harry sprayed a generous amount of shaving cream in his palm and spread it over your mound. The sound broke the comfortable silence and the typical masculine smell of sandalwood and menthol that you always associated with him hit your nose. He added some more to where your thighs meet your groin and when he was satisfied with his soapy artwork, he reached for a razor.
“Are you taking notes?” He hummed in your ear in the teasing tone you knew all too well in an attempt to ease the heavy atmosphere.
“Uhuh” You bobbed your head, your hands shaking slightly as you reached down to wipe away some of the shaving cream that got on your inner thigh.
“Good. Means next time we can get straight to the good stuff,” Harry sealed his promise with a kiss to the bare skin of your shoulder where your shirt had slipped down and rested his chin there as he looked over between your parted legs.
You tried to settle deeper into his lap, wiggling your legs as much as your current position you allowed it and shaking out your arms to shed the last of your nerves. Harry let out a soft, low chuckle at your movement before he went to work.
The cool steel of the razor brushed against you in the most delicate, precise strokes. He was methodical, rinsing the blade under the water after every two or three passes to get rid of the hair and cream, making sure the process was perfect. He whispered words of encouragement in your ear every so often, sweet and full of love, worshiping you till you were putty in his hands, a masterpiece of his own, and bare to his eyes completely.
“See? It wasn’t that bad” He grinned and set the razor aside on the edge of the tub. He looked down at his work with a sense of pride; there wasn't a single hair left.
“It’s just gonna itch anyway,” You huffed and blinked your eyes open to take a look yourself. Your old struggles tried to make an appearance again, rather a final stand. The job he had done couldn’t ever compare to all your poor attempts at shaving.
“Don’t underestimate me, baby” Harry tutted at your pessimistic deflection and gave your bare mound a playful slap, making you let out a tiny yelp in reaction and squeeze your thighs around his hand instinctively.
“We’re not done yet. One more thing…” He reached for a small bottle on the ledge, squeezing a few droplets of the post-shave balm in his palm.
As he began to rub the soothing cream into your skin, you let out a happy sigh and without any more coyness spread your legs wider, sinking further in his lap, giving him every ounce of access he could want. Harry massaged the balm in thoroughly, every curve and dip of your body until the skin was glowing and soft.
“Look at you, my sweet girl, all nice and smooth for me.” Harry’s voice had dropped an octave, turning deep and rough around each syllable, and wrapping around you like a vine. “Can I touch you now? Do I have your permission? Can I make you feel good with my mouth?”
“Please,” You whispered, your voice wavering at the rasp in his tone and suggestive questions.
“Alright, baby. Up you go,” Harry patted your inner thigh twice before unhooking your legs from his knees. He helped you stand up between his spread thighs, his large hands steadying you as you stepped out of the bathtub. The tiled floor didn’t feel so cold anymore given how much your body had heated up.
Harry followed the pattern closely and joined your side. He intertwined his fingers with yours in a grounding grip before leading the way out of the bathroom, and you followed him like a lost puppy.
The bedroom door clicked shut behind you in a whisper of a sound, sealing you and your best friend into the quiet intimacy of your room. The sheets in your bed were messy, you completely forgot to make your bed this morning, and there were clothes scattered all over the floor you had to put in the washing machine, but Harry didn’t seem to care one bit. He welcomed himself in like he always did.
“Still sure about this? You can change your mind, love, it’s okay” He pulled you closer by your hip until there wasn’t any space between your bodies, his other hand reaching up to tug a stray lock of hair behind your ear.
“I want to try. I trust you.” You nuzzled in his palm like a cat seeking scratches, so innocent with bubbling need in your stomach and desperation dripping between your thighs.
Harry leaned down, ghosting a kiss over the corner of your mouth before claiming the center of your lips. He tilted your head just so, easing you into a slow, languid pace. His hands began a restless journey, brushing over your shoulders, tracing the dip of your back, and cupping the curve of your bum, before he hooked his arms under your thighs and hoisted you up.
“There we go, baby.” He set you down on the mattress carefully, his wide frame instantly caging you in. His knee slid between yours, forcing your legs apart to make room for him. “Let’s go slow, yeah? We’re gonna just kiss now…”
You nudged his nose with yours, seeking him out until he finally gave in, crashing his lips back onto yours. Soft pecks deepened into heavy make outs and your whimpers turned into quiet moans.
Slowly, his mouth moved downward, marking your jaw and the sensitive column of your neck. He sucked a mark on the untouched skin, then over the reddening spot to soothe the sting. It was a claim. A promise. You felt him grow hard in his boxers when his bulge brushed against your bare core, a bit of your arousal smearing over the black fabric, making you nearly choke on a gasp.
“So good for me, my sweet girl…” Harry murmured against your stomach, this time without the distribution of your insecurities chanting in your head. They were silenced now by the sheer intensity of his focus. He squeezed your hips softly in reassurance as he looked up at you with hooded eyes. You’d never seen this look on him before. Messy hair, swollen lips and unspoken promise in his eyes. “Can I make you feel good, baby? Can I taste you? Please?”
“Yeah, yeah” You let out a shuddered breath and tilted your head back into the pillows, closing your eyes.
Harry took the hem of your shirt and bunched the fabric just under your belly button, revealing your naked half to him like the most delicate present. Everything stopped for a moment. He stared at you with something more than lust and passion. He took you whole in. The plush tummy, the stretch marks on your thighs, your bare core. You looked divine.
“Fuck,” He murmured under his breath, suddenly lost at words he had a full dictionary of just a minute before.
“Fuck, baby” He repeated.
“Ugh I knew this is stupid, I look-” You huffed in frustration at Harry’s lack of reaction and tried to squeeze your thighs shut, the familiar shame rising like a tide. But Harry was faster. He held your legs open by your inner thighs, letting out a sharp scolding tut.
“No! Don’t hide yourself! Can you look at me, please, sweetheart?” He dipped his thumbs in the muscles of your thighs and massaged them gently, rubbing the tension that appeared again away, his eyes locked on yours. “You’re beautiful. So fucking beautiful. You’re perfect. There aren’t enough words to just… fuck, baby, if you could see yourself in my eyes!”
You shook your head, hot tears threatening to spill as you squeezed your eyes shut. It felt too good to be real. An insane twist in your reality.
“You’re so pretty,” He pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee before resting your right leg on his shoulder.
“My perfect girl,” He nuzzled his nose in your skin, kissing his way up your thigh at deliberate pace.
“With the most perfect body,” He bit your inner thigh gently.
“Perfect soul,” He traced your stretch marks with his tongue.
“Perfect little pussy,” He sighed and rested his cheek against your other thigh for a heartbeat, watching you unconsciously clench around nothing. “Just for me. All for me…”
“I’m gonna touch you now, okay? Gonna kiss it better,” Harry said softly. He could see the lingering tension in the way you held your breath, and he was determined to erase every intrusive thought until your mind was nothing but a haze of ecstasy.
He kissed around your core at first, at the junction of your thighs, before moving upward to pepper the freshly shaved skin with tender pecks. Your legs were spread wide for him and he accommodated himself quickly as if it was a new place to call home. His right hand remained on your thigh stroking soothing circles, while his left reached up to find yours. He intertwined his fingers with yours, squeezing firmly as if to say “I’ve got you.”
Harry reached down, his touch light as a feather as he pulled up the clitoral hood and exposed your little clit to the cool air before he replaced it with the warmth of his breath. Your hips buckled up from the mattress, a quiet whimper escaping your lips. Then, finally, he leaned in to make the first contact and pressed a lingering kiss to that bundle of nerves, swirling his tongue around before he began to suck.
“Harry!” You cried out and squeezed his hand so tightly your knuckles turned white.
“Shhhh,” Harry pulled away from your clit just long enough to look at you and used two fingers to spread you open, licking a long, torturingly slow strip with his tongue. He let out a low hum against your skin, tasting the honey-like sweetness of your arousal. “You’re doing perfect, baby. Taste so sweet…”
He kept his eyes on you the whole time, devouring your reaction, mapping every gasp, every hitch in your breath, how loud your moans got when he found the right spot. He worked on you thoroughly with the expert precision of someone who had done this a thousand times, yet with the type of care that was only for you.
If heaven existed on earth, you were surely in the center of it. A dizzying heat began to pool in your stomach, spreading until your limbs felt heavy and light all at once. Your fingers fisted in the messy sheets, your toes curling as the tension built.
“Tell me how you feel, sweetheart” Harry murmured against your core, his thumb rubbing grounding circles over your knuckles.
“Good—oh god, Harry, it feels so good!” You cried out when he quickened the speed of his tongue and dipped into your entrance, fucking your tight hole with his hot muscle in relentless pace. You were melting in his hands, a puddle of need and wetness dripping on his tongue.
Harry caught your clit between his thumb and forefinger, giving it a playful, light squeeze that made you arch your back completely off the mattress and buckle your hips in his face, before he started rubbing it in quick circular motions.
“Harry please!” You moaned embarrassingly loud in the quiet space of your bedroom and dug your fingers into Harry’s long hair without giving it a second thought. You held onto the roots and tugged at them every time he dived deeper in your core, receiving pleased grunts from him at the friction.
“That’s a good girl! Such a perfect, sweet girl! Lemme hear you! Lemme hear how good I make you feel!” The tone of his voice was smug and cocky, yet held the underlying care for you.
Harry brought his focus back on your clit, his tongue flicking against you with a wide, wicked grin when he saw your mouth fall open in pure bliss. He wrapped his lips around it and sucked vigorously until you were a writhing mess beneath him.
The sound of your loud moans and the taste of your arousal made Harry painfully hard. He ground his hips into the mattress, trying to find some relief for the ache in his boxers, but it did nothing to settle the fire in his blood. He felt his dick leaking, pre-cum soaking into the dark fabric of his underwear, his own climax triggered simply by the sight of you.
He pressed his index finger on your opening and dipped just the first inch in, testing the waters, gauging your reaction, teasing. You were so tight. An innocent thing that has never been touched in these places. Just the thought of how you would feel around his fingers, or worse around his shaft, made him moan loudly.
The unfamiliar heat in your lower belly suddenly exploded, a violent wave that crashed over your entire body. Drops of sweat were dripping down your forehead and sticking your hair on your face. You shook, your legs trembling and as the orgasm took hold of you.
You were beautiful. Breath taking. The most perfect innocent creature Harry ever had the chance to hold. The sight of you coming undone is his arms, thanks to him and him only, his skilful mouth and hands, did wonders to his ego and his heart alike.
Harry held you through the peak tightly, slurping on your wetness like you were his last dinner to prolong your orgasm as much as he could, all while coming into his boxers.
“Mhm, there you go. Coming for me like a good girl,” Harry encouraged in a breathy murmur. Only when you began to jerk your hips away from the overstimulation, he finally moved, crawling up the bed until he was hovering over you.
“Harry!” You gasped, tears from the release streaming down your face. You held onto his hand so tightly you thought you might actually bruise him.
“Shhhhhh, it’s okay. You’re okay, I’m right here,” Harry whispered. He cradled your cheek gently in his palm, his thumb wiping away your tears. “You were perfect. Came so hard for me, love. I’m so proud of you.”
“Yeah?” You breathed out and finally blinked your eyes open to meet the greenery of his own. You were caught in a blissful, floaty headspace that you never wanted to leave.
“Yeah. You were so good for me, sweetheart” He pressed a tender kiss to your sweaty forehead, tucking a damp strand of hair behind your ear. He was looking at you with a new kind of intensity, something even deeper than what you were used to from him. But you couldn’t tell the real meaning behind his gaze. “My sweet, sweet girl.”
His boxers were wet, cum sticking uncomfortably to his skin, but he didn’t care a single bit. This moment was about you. He held you through the aftershocks, murmured words of praise against your temple and stroked your skin delicately. He didn’t want to ever leave this moment either.
“Can- can I have a kiss?” You whispered shyly when your breathing finally started to evening out and your body relaxed, turning into a mix of tired limbs.
“Of course you can have a kiss,” Harry laughed heartily at your innocent request and angled your face to his with a gentle grip on your chin, kissing you softly on your lips. The taste of your own cum immediately hit your tastebuds when Harry licked into your mouth, making you moan quietly.
“All good?” He hummed against your lips, pulling back just enough to see your face. He couldn’t get enough of this sight. A sight only he had the privilege to witness. Noticing your limbs unclenched and your body grew more pliant to his touch, he rested some of his weight on your body, his semi-hard dick nuzzling against your inner thigh.
“Mhm- what is- Harry, did you come too?” You whimpered in sudden realisation when you felt the wet fabric of his boxers against your skin and looked down between your bodies with furrowed brows.
“Yeah, I did.” He admitted sheepishly. “Couldn’t help myself, baby. You do things to me.”
You watched the outline of his dick dumbly, noticing the slight twitch when Harry moved his hips against your thigh to get more comfortable. You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that you did this to him. A small, timid smile crossed your lips, and you sank back into the pillows, letting the weight of this moment settle over you.
“I’m so so so proud of you, baby” Harry repeated softly and slid his hand down to rub your hip in soothing motions. “Were so brave. My good girl.”
“Can we do this again soon?”“Mhm we can try tomorrow again if you want. And maybe next time, I’ll get more than just one orgasm out of you…” Harry’s grin widened. He was already imagining a dozen different ways to worship you. “But let’s get you cleaned up first, yeah? Don’t want you staying all sticky and sweaty.”
DATING FOR TWO
✶ pairing: CEO/Single Dad!Harry x Fem!reader
✶ summary: Harry grows a delicate relationship with you alongside maintaining his family situation
✶ word count: 6.5K
✶ contains: fluff, angst, smut if you squint, mentions of sex, Harry is sappy and in love
✶ a/n: DADRRY content here cause I’m having a DADDRY FEVER lately!!! I wanted it to be a Valentine’s day gift but I had a busy week school-wise and then got a fever, so better late than never! I had this thing in my concepts since April 2025 but got back to it just now. It feels different than what I wrote before and I'm not really sure how I feel about the ending but yeah, I hope you’re gonna like it anyway!
✶ click here for ➵ MASTERPOST ⋆˚ ౨ৎ ⋆.˚
ALL MY LOVE, E
You knew that dating Harry also meant dating the little girl who came with him. Ema. A three-year-old copy of her father, with the same piercing green eyes, chubby cheeks, and a head full of messy chestnut curls. Overflowing with stubborn frowns and quiet watchfulness, she made you feel like you were being tested from the moment you met her. And honestly? You couldn’t really blame her. If you could, you’d try to keep Harry only to yourself too.
Harry was fiercely protective over his daughter, his little treasure, as he called her, along with a million other nicknames that made your heart skip a beat every time.
You didn’t know much about her mother. He had only mentioned her briefly, once or twice, and not wanting to pry, you let it slide. After all, it wasn’t your place to ask. Maybe in time.
When Ema happened, Harry hadn’t been ready for fatherhood. He thought kids would come at least 5 years later, maybe more, not at the age of 30. His whole life was work and business, not babies. Some days he still felt like a teenager himself! Life had thrown a lot at him early on, but he took it all, even if it meant shedding a few tears along the way. And yet, he couldn’t have been happier. His little sunshine turned his mostly stereotypical life upside down. Turned him upside down.
Gone were the nights of wine, replaced with baby formula, 70s rock music changed into lullabies, nonfiction books were swapped for picture books and his polished suits got shoved in the back of the wardrobe in favour of plain shirts (that he had to change multiples times a day anyway, because he and his daughter were messy people).
At first, Harry stayed at home with his little girl until she was old enough for kindergarten. He was wealthy enough to afford this luxury, choosing to watch Ema grow every day. But he was a businessman at heart, and even on paternity leave, he couldn’t help himself. A contract here, a quick visit to his office there, until his assistant had to kick him out after “just a few minutes” turned into an hour, with Ema playing between stacks of important documents.
After Ema celebrated her third birthday and started visiting kindergarten more regularly, without any fussing in the mornings and sleeping for the whole time after lunch, Harry started feeling the creeping of loneliness. He knew Ema needed to play with other kids and socialize, to learn and experience things on her own without his helping hand. But it didn’t stop him from missing her terribly and squeezing her little body tightly in his arms each time he came to pick her up after work. ”You’re silly, daddy!” She laughed loudly every time.
One interview for a world-famous magazine about Harry’s huge impact was at the start of you and him. Three hours of talking turned into exchanged numbers and whispered promises of a date, filled just the night after. Who would have thought that a journalist with an ordinary life could mesmerise a successful man who could’ve had any other woman?
The bond of trust between you two formed almost instantly. He was consumed by you. One look and he was a goner. There was no need to put an effort in perfect makeup and flawless curls, he had already fallen in love with you on day one. The girl with a big coffee stain on her shirt, hair messier than a bird’s nest and not even a hint of mascara because she’d been running late.
Harry was desperate for your first date. That much was certain. There was something so beautiful about you, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, that he had to discover, to claim. He wanted you so badly, his heart ached with it. He made a reservation at the finest restaurant in the city, making sure it would be just the two of you in the whole place. He brought you a huge bouquet of flowers, with a small note ’their beauty smells like you’. He remembered the afternoon you were leaving his office and he smelled your perfume as he kissed your cheek goodbye and your sweet flowery scent hit him hard.
No other woman had caught him the way you did. And oh boy, he was all in. He tossed aside every rational thought that should’ve held him back for his sake and Ema’s. Because the thought of life without you in the picture felt impossible. He didn’t want to flip through photo albums years from now and not see your pretty face there. Call him crazy, but he was determined to have you. He needed you.
Your smile lit up the whole room, even during the inner storm. The effortless elegance that seemed to follow you everywhere you went, the kindness that felt almost unreal every time you spoke. It was all too much. You were it for him. And he didn't even need to know you, because somehow, he already did. Maybe it was the absence of woman's presence, the hormones messing with him, or the longing for love, for giving Ema a mother figure, and himself a wife. But in the end, did it really matter what the reason was? He knew he wanted you, and that was enough.
By the second date, you understood how delicate the relationship you were in the process of building was. It was also the first time Harry told you about Ema, because in his words, “I didn’t want to scare you off, you are too precious to lose”. And it made you fall for him even harder. He treated you like a goddess you in his eyes were. All soft touches and sweet words, he could never settle for less.
After you started seeing each other more regularly, he became truly obsessed with you. His generosity was intensive as if he was trying to fill every corner of your life with reminders of him. A surprise delivery of flowers here, perfumes there, a lovely set of lingerie in the burgundy colour you mentioned just once in front of him delivered right to your apartment.
When you made your relationship official, he bought you the golden necklace you eyed for so long in the small jewellery shop near your block, and made you cry so hard for the first time in front of him.
“I swear you are crazy, Harry,” You sobbed into his suit-covered shoulder, staining it slightly with your tears mixed with mascara.
“Only crazy for my girl,” Harry murmured softly as he kissed your hair, making you cry even more in response. You’ve never felt this loved before.
Yet after all this time, you still hadn’t met the reason of his restless nights, the bright mornings and toys he nursed in his leather briefcase to work. You knew Ema only from photos he shared with you and all the stories that made him smile widely every time he talked about her.
One evening, when he invited you to stay for a night, you finally decided to ask him the question that’s been gnawing on your mind for a while. “Does Ema know about me?”
She was staying with his sister Gemma for the weekend so he could have some alone time with you that wasn't just a few hours per week you usually found on each other given your busy jobs and Harry’s family situation.
The question came unexpectedly. You were snuggled on the big velvet couch under the shield of a fuzzy blanket in each other’s arms, a romantic comedy playing on the TV, creating a relaxing atmosphere.
Harry, caught mid-sip of his red wine, froze. “I umh… well, I’ve mentioned you a few times. I’ve shown her your pictures, tried to hint at us. But you know how she is…”
Ema was daddy’s girl. And he belonged to her only. He was her sun, her moon, and the only person allowed to tie her shoes. She was a little girl. She didn’t understand the world yet, but the idea of sharing Harry’s lap, hugs, or his attention with another woman was a foreign concept he feared would end in a heartbreak.
“You know I respect your boundaries as a parent, Harry. I do,” You sat up straighter next to him, pulling away from the warmth of his chest to look him in the eye. “But shouldn’t she know about me? We’ve been dating for 6 months,”
“I know. I know, baby. She should know.” Harry sighed and tightened his grip around your waist, pulling you back in his side immediately. Your closeness comforted him in a way he couldn’t explain and he buried his face in the crook of your neck to soothe his nerves. “I’m gonna tell her. I promise. I need you in our lives.”
The soft peck on your lips that followed made you blush as well as his words. At this point, you were used to his heartfelt confessions and affectionate touches but it always brought flush to your cheeks and made butterflies fly wildly in your stomach.
But not everything went as Harry planned. It went completely the other way. He wanted to ease Ema into the big change slowly. Having another person around was a serious thing he didn’t want to take lightly. But his job made it’s significant presence in the worst moment.
Harry was in his office, the skyline of London sprawling behind the floor to ceiling windows. He was packing his briefcase, done for the day. A small smile played on his lips as he thought about his daughter he was about to pick up from the kindergarten, excited to see her again, when his assistant, Veronica, stormed in the room.
“Patrick Stevenson is here!” She panted, her knuckles white as she gripped the doorframe.
The echo of the name made Harry stop in his tracks. Stevenson was a businessman of similar power as Harry’s. He was a titan, not really a rival but a best friend neither. His signature on a contract could mean the best deal of the century as well as an amazing partnership between the two men. Harry had been chasing this meeting for months.
“What? But he didn’t have a scheduled meeting, did he?” Harry slowly set a stack of documents back down on the wooden table, sparing Veronica a confused look.
“No, no, came unannounced. He’s waiting in the conference room right now.” Veronica shook her head a few times and stepped further into Harry’s office, closing the door behind her so no one could overhear them.
“Fuck but I have to pick up Ema! The kindergarten closes in- 30 minutes…” He sighed when he noticed the little hand on the clock by the door slowly reaching number four and ran a hand over his face in frustration. He promised Ema to be on time since she was staying there longer than usual and he knew too well how his little girl was. All pouts and hiccups when she missed him a little bit more.
“I could pick her-” Veronica started, but Harry’s sharp voice cut her off before she could even finish a thought. He hated prioritizing work over his daughter.
“No, I need you here with me. I- just give me five minutes, okay? Go get him water, or wine, or whatever he wants…” He waved at her dismissively and waited until she disappeared before he picked up his phone, his fingers flying quickly across the screen. His mom lived three hours away, there was no way she could pick Ema up, and his sister had a swimming lesson with her daughter. There was only one last option.
“Hey, baby, are you free right now? It's an emergency,” Harry rushed out as he paced around his office anxiously, the rhythmic thud of his polished shoes echoing in the otherwise quiet room.
“Harry, what’s going on? Is everything okay? Is Ema alright?” The worry in your voice clear as day, making Harry’s chest tighten with guilt.
“We’re okay. Sort of. You remember the Stevenson guy I was talking about the other day? He just appeared here. For a meeting. And you know how good this deal could be for us but- I can’t pick up Ema from kindergarten.” He sunk into the leather chair, rubbing a hand over his stubbled cheeks in distress.
“Oh I can pick her up. It’s no problem. She knows how I look right? I don’t want her to panic or something,” You sprung from your chair so fast you almost tripped over your feet and threw a hoodie on. Ema’s kindergarten wasn’t far away from your apartment and Harry’s office. You walked around the place often even before you started dating Harry, always admiring the garden and playgrounds.
“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry. She knows you’re my girl,” Harry let out a sigh, a mixture of relief and sadness swirling in his gut, “I’m sorry this is how you’re gonna meet her, I really wanted it to be more special, not rushed and hectic,”
“It’s not your fault, Harry,” You murmured in the reassuring tone that always got to Harry, soothing every single worry that was left in his head and tension in his body, “I’m happy I can help. Now go make the deal, yeah? I’ve got her,”
“Yeah,” He laughed quietly at the encouragement, “Come to mine office after you pick her up. I know I’m saying this all the time, but you’re an angel, my love. Thank you,”
It didn’t take you long before you were standing in the doorway of Ema’s kindergarten. The building looked like it was made in the last century, but was freshly renovated. You were surprised Ema wasn’t in the top-notch place with a silver spoon in her mouth but rather normal surroundings. Ema’s education was really important to Harry and just because he had the privilege of a wealthy life, he didn’t want to raise a spoiled brat. He wanted her grounded, not crying every time she didn’t get everything she wanted.
“Hello, I’m here for Ema Styles,” You smiled brightly at the teacher. She looked about the same age as you, and she greeted you excitedly.
“Oh yes! Mr. Styles called ahead. Ema is already waiting on you!” She pointed at the small table where she was sitting, clutching a crayon in her small fist, finishing her drawing. “ Ema your- you can go home finally!”
The call of her name got Ema’s attention and she looked up from the paper, her pigtails bobbing slightly when she looked up at you. Her expression was blank, her green eyes unreadable. She didn’t smile or cry. Without saying anything, she got up and started getting dressed all by herself.
“Hello,” She said to you quietly when you stepped out onto the London pavement. She had a purple sweater on, partially hiding her light pink dress, and pink ballet flats, the picture she drew in her hand. Harry loved to dress her up like a proper princess. “Made this for daddy,”
“That’s beautiful, Em! Daddy’s gonna love it. Puts it in a frame and on a wall for sure!” You crouched down to her eye level and looked at the paper. The drawing was a chaotic mess of lines and circles in bright colours, but you could make out two stick figures holding hands, resembling the picture of her and Harry.
You walked mostly in silence to Harry’s office. You tried to have a conversation with her, asked her various questions from “What did you have for lunch?” to “What is your favourite animal?” but her answers were short, barely any. It’s been ages since you took care of a child. You couldn’t mess this up!
The skyscraper where Harry’s office was stood right in front of you just over the street, it’s top hidden somewhere between the clouds. “C’mon Ema, we’re almost here!” You took her small hand in yours when you reached the crosswalk, the evening rush hour at its peak.
But Ema didn’t like this. In the split of a second she pulled at your hand and bit down on the flesh of your wrist.
“Ema! Ouch!” You gasped, pulling your hand away to check the mark. The half moons of her teeth cut deep in your skin, some of them drawing blood. Ema didn't look sorry at all. She looked defiant, her lower lip trembling as she clutched her drawing tighter.
You didn’t dare to scold her, nor touch her. Your hand throbbed in pain for the rest of the walk and the ride in the elevator, a painful reminder of her territorial love for her father.
“There are my girls!” Harry walked in his office with a wide, yet slightly tired smile about an hour later, his tie loosened at the collar. You were sitting in the leather armchair that was probably more expensive than your whole kitchen, watching Ema play on the couch with the toys she had there.
“Daddy!” She shrieked, running into his open arms. Harry caught her mid-air, spinning her around as she erupted into peals of delighted laughter. The cold, silent child from the walk was gone, replaced by a radiant, giggly girl.
“Hey, my darling,” He murmured, kissing her forehead before walking over to you. He tucked Ema under one arm and used the other to pull you into a brief but firm kiss. “Thank you so much, baby... Was she a good girl?”
“Mhm, yeah she was,” You lied at his question and tugged at the sleeve of your hoodie to hide the mark Ema imprinted on you from Harry, forcing a small smile instead. “I should probably get going, though. I still have to finish some articles and umh, I can see someone missed you a lot,”
“You don’t want to grab dinner with us? I wanted to celebrate the deal with both of you!” Harry pouted at you, his thumb grazing your cheek. He could see you weren’t completely at ease, but he didn’t want to push it. After the few months of dating, he knew your body language like the back of his hand as well as every sign of your uneasiness.
“Would love to, but I really can’t. Call me later?” You got up on your feet and gently rubbed his arm, hoping he would let it go.
“Okay,… text me when you get home then,” He pulled you in another kiss that lasted just a few moments before Ema decided to disturb you with an insistent tugs at Harry’s shirt, clearly wanting attention again, making you pull away with a sad smile.
Not having sex with Harry was torturing yet a respectful and delicate thing at the same time. Even though he was head over heels for you, he was taking this part of your relationship very seriously, though his hands and eyes slipped more than once. During your steamy makeouts, he gripped on your waist a little more tightly, or even let his hands wander underneath your shirt. When you were straddling his lap, he buckled his hips to meet yours, creating some friction. And a few times he even gripped on your breasts, which made you giggle. He loved to mark your skin, dig his fingers in your flesh, cling to you until you had to pull him off. You didn’t have many chances to do something more, but when you did, it had you ruined.
It took Harry many relentless attempts before you finally found the courage and agreed on staying over again, for the first time with Ema under the same roof, especially after her angry bite he still didn’t know about. He bought the excuse within the first second and smothered your hand in soothing kisses, living in the reality your friend’s dog attacked you.
You had a ‘family’ dinner first. Harry was the one who talked most of the time but neither of you seemed to mind. He was in his element. He told animated stories about his work, adjusted just slightly so Ema could understand it too, and enjoyed spending the evening with people he loved the most.
After that, Harry was quick to usher Ema in bed. He didn’t want to neglect her but he was so excited about you he couldn’t contain himself. He pulled her dress over her head quickly, making her curls bounce around her face as he searched for her pyjamas with unicorns.
“Daddy,” She squirmed in her bed from the sudden cold and wrapped her arms around her body to warm herself.
“I’m coming, sweetheart! Adorable unicorns for an adorable girl!” He huffed out a laugh and kneeled back in front of her on the floor, helping her dress up. He knew all too well she was clever to do it all herself but he wanted to save some time.
“Read me?” She pouted when he tugged the little pair of leggings on her wiggly legs and smoothed the wrinkled fabric with his palm.
“A story?” He let out a sigh, but smiled immediately, not wanting to look annoyed with her.
“Mhm. From grandma,” Ema crawled over her bed to hand Harry the book her grandma, Anne, wrote. She fell in love with it immediately after Anne read it to her for the first time, and ever since then Ema demanded it from Harry.
“Okay, but just one chapter, yes?” Harry took the book from her and ran the back of his hand over her cheek. “Now get under the covers, bug, so I can start,”
To Harry’s luck, she was out like a light by the third page and with a good night kiss to her forehead and a whisper of “I love you”, he turned the moon shaped lamp on her bedside table off and closed the door of her room with a quiet thud.
You were just getting out of the ensuite bathroom, your body wrapped in a fuzzy towel Harry got warmed up on the radiator for you, steam followed you out of the door as you patted your hair dry.
The shelves in the shower were full of fancy sounding bottles bought just for you to make you feel at home, or like a princess given the expensive brands from Dior to other French and Italian names you've never heard before and could only dream about with your paycheque. In Harry’s eyes, it was the bare minute he could do for you.
Your body smelled like orange blossom, creamy vanilla and cedar. A mix you found made Harry feral.
Suddenly a solid weight pressed against you from behind, strong tattooed arms sneaked around your middle and held you in a firm grip against his chest. “Did you have a nice shower, love?”
“Mhm” You hummed with a soft smile he couldn’t see, and slowly turned around in his arms so you could see him. “Really nice,”
“You used the body wash I bought you, didn’t ya? You smell,” Harry buried his nose in the crook of your neck and took a long whiff, basking in the smell of your freshly washed body. “Divine. Delicious even. So good for me.”
You giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close as he pulled you up in the air, making you squeal and kick your legs. “Harry! Ema is right down the hall!”
“So responsible,” He moaned in your skin and set you down on the king sized bed, his body hovering over yours in no time, his knees parting your legs. He trailed kisses all over your neck and jaw before he settled on your lips, kissing you deeply.
“Yeah, that’s why you should keep little Harry in your oh-“ You whimpered in his mouth when you felt his bulge press against your thigh, excitement obviously proud in his sweatpants.
“Baby,” Harry huffed like a child that couldn’t have his lolly and tightened his grip around your waist in protest, not wanting to let you go, preferably ever. “Please. We’ll just have to be quiet,”
“What’s got into you?” You grinned at his eagerness. You’ve never seen him this giddy. His fingers shook and little moans escaped his lips with every grind of his hips against yours. You cupped his cheeks with your hands, the stubble stung your palms pleasingly as you turned his head to look at you.
“I don’t know. You- you just smell so nice! And I’ve been thinking a lot about this, us, and we’ve been together for so long… I want to move our relationship on another level,” Harry murmured, his voice taking on almost a shy tone.
You haven’t done more than cunnilingus, fingering or blowjobs. Harry was very strict about sex. He knew the birth controls nowadays were very effective and with minimal chances of getting pregnant, but he needed the assurance of your relationship. It was a living hell for him and his cock, he couldn’t count the number of times he jerked off to the images of you, but he didn’t want to risk unplanned pregnancy too.
“Yeah?” Your cheeks turned red at his confession, “Are you sure? You know I don’t mind doing just the other things, we don’t have to have sex,”
“No, no, no,” He shook his head abruptly and covered your hand on his cheeks with his own, keeping it in its place. “I want to make love to you,”
You leaned forward and pecked the corner of his mouth softly before focusing on the centre of his lips and kissed him deeply, trying to communicate the love and care your heart held for him.
“Is that a yes?” He nuzzled his nose in your cheek and pressed a few kisses behind.
“But we really have to be quiet. I don’t want to traumatise Ema on our first time,” Your hands slowly moved over his broad chest and under the hem of his worn out shirt, tracing his abs with your pointer finger before you tugged his shirt over his head and threw it somewhere on the floor..
“I’m so lucky,” Harry sat down on his shins only to take a look at you sprawled underneath him, your body hidden just under the fuzzy material of the towel. “Such a beautiful girl and all mine,”
He toyed with the edge of the towel before tugging at it lightly, unwrapping you like a gift on a Christmas Day. Your nipples perked up at the hit of cold air, goosebumps appearing on your skin immediately.
“Oh and look at those tits,” Harry groaned and dived in without even checking with you. He needed his mouth on your skin like oxygen for breathing. He wrapped his lips around your nipple and started sucking as he palmed on your other breast.
You wrapped your legs around his middle, digging your heels in his lower back, keeping him as close as possible. Your back arched from the mattress at the feeling of his tongue on your sensitive bud and you let out a quiet moan.
“Daddy?” The small, tiny voice from the doorway was like a bucket of ice water.
“Fuck,” Harry cursed under his breath and rested his forehead against your shoulder to contain himself.
He was so excited about spending the night with you in a new way. Not just with his head between your legs, but also with his cock filling you up to the brim. It’s been more than three years since he had sex.
You scrambled up under Harry and immediately wrapped the towel back around your body, your face flaming hot, as you hid yourself from the innocent eyes of the little girl.
“Hey, bug. What’s wrong?” He sighed and pulled away from you when he was sure you were decently covered.
“Can’t sleep,” Ema stuck out her bottom lip, pouting at Harry with the biggest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. It wasn’t something new for her. She had a few sleepless nights and craved the warmth and comfort of her dad from time to time. Just like tonight.
“Oh baby,” Harry stood up from the bed and obtrusively tugged at the fabric of his sweatpants around his crotch, trying to hide the tent a group of scouts could camp under, before he crouched in front of her.
You used this moment to change into something and took Harry’s discarded shirt from the floor and put it on, accompanying it with a pair of fresh panties.
The steamy night was officially over. You didn’t mind Ema staying with the two of you. At the end of the day she was still Harry’s daughter and the most important little human, but deep down you feared her, as if you had to be on your toes any time you were in her presence.
“Get in the bed then, you can sleep with us tonight, yeah?” He encouraged her softly with a gentle rub on her shoulder and stood back up, making his way to you.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I will make it up to you. A weekend, just the two of us, this little monster at my mum’s or sister’s,” Harry pecked your lips, his hands cradling your face gently. “Now get in the bed too so we can cuddle,”
You moved to the edge of the mattress to give her space, letting Ema take up the whole middle Ema, but she didn’t want your generosity. As she climbed in, her small foot lashed out, a deliberate, sharp kick landing right in your stomach, making you cry out in pain.
“Oi, little girl! What was that?!” Harry’s voice raised to the tone you only heard him use in work, but never with his daughter. He rounded the bed quickly, his expression stern.
“We don’t kick other’s, it could really hurt them. This wasn’t nice from you. And here I was thinking you could get extra cuddles tonight, but I’m not really sure you deserve them now when I saw this.” He shook his head disapprovingly and rested his hand gently on her back.
“Sorry, daddy,” Ema whispered, her gaze dropping to her lap.
“No, sweets. Don’t be sorry to me. Why did you do that?” Harry brushed a few messy locks from his daughter’s forehead as he held her close to his side with his free hand. He had a frown on his lips and his brows were furrowed, a clear disappointment by what his daughter did to you was written all over his face. Ema never acted like this. She was always a sweet and kind girl, just like Harry raised her. This behaviour didn't make any sense to him.
Ema only shook her head in an answer and wrapped her chubby arms around Harry’s torso, burying her face in his bare chest. He looked up from his daughter back at you with confused expression, not really sure how to deal with the situation on his hands, and only subconsciously tightened his grip around her small tired body and pressed her closer in his side in an attempt to soothe both of them.
“Remember what we said, darling? That we treat each other with kindness and respect? If you don’t want to talk about it right now, okay, it’s past your bedtime anyway... But we are gonna have a big talk tomorrow. I won’t let this slide. Can we agree on that, sweetheart?”
You watched Harry handle this unusual situation with grace and calm mind, his patience not flinching at all, not even for a split of a second. And you slowly started to realise that maybe you were the cause of Ema’s behaviour.
Every single bone in your body screamed ’leave!’ at you. You were stuck in your thoughts and Harry’s bed, unable to do anything. Staying made you feel bad because of Ema but leaving would hurt Harry.
In no time, Ema’s body grew limp against him and quiet snores were escaping her lips, signalling she was soundly asleep again. You watched the situation that normally made you coo with a heavy heart, knowing this all was your fault.
“I have a hard on,” Harry mouthed when he was sure his daughter was out like a light, and stuck his bottom lip out enough to pout at you.
The corners of your mouth quirked up slightly at the reassuring revelation that Harry wasn’t mad at you, but the clear opposite. You let out a quiet chuckle at the irony and looked down in your lap, your cheeks turning a tint red.
“Come here,” He laid back in the silky pillows with Ema half sprawled over his bare chest and made a grabby hand, pulling you in his free side. His strong tattooed arm sneaked around your shoulders and cradled you close to him, his lips found the crown of your head and pressed a kiss there. He could tell you were a little thrown off by Ema and wanted to soothe your worries. “I’m so sorry, baby”
“It’s okay,” You let out a long sigh and nuzzled in the croak of his neck, hiding under his chin. You still felt a shooting pain in your stomach, sure there would be a big bruise, but tried to overcome it. You had a perfect view on Ema, her face lacking the anger and envy she held against you a few minutes ago. It almost made you tear up. You wanted this little girl to love you just as much as you already loved her.
“It is not okay. She can’t hurt my girlfriend. That is forbidden in my book.” Harry huffed. It was obvious in his tone how upset he was, even though he tried to hide it for both yours and Ema’s sake.
“I swear she’d never kicked anyone. She’s always been a good girl.” He added, now much more quietly, as if he had to convince you.
“I’m not mad at her, Harry,” You mumbled against the skin of his neck in reassurance, but maybe the words were meant more for you than him.
“She’ll come around, I promise…” The words were determined, but you could hear a hint of uncertainty somewhere between the syllables. Harry took your hand in his gently, your fingers soft against his rough ones, and covered Ema’s curled fist that’s been resting in the middle of his chest with it. “She’s gonna love you before we both know it.”
The talk came right after breakfast. You were planning on leaving as soon as you could after opening your eyes, not wanting to make Ema even more upset, but Harry insisted on your presence and the apology Ema had to give you.
“So,” Harry started after all tummies were full and the dishes were cleaned up. “What are you gonna tell me about last night, Ema?”
The three of you were sitting together in the living room on an L-shaped couch, you by Harry’s side, his grip around your waist tight enough to prevent you from pulling away, and Ema across from you. This was the first time Harry had to have such a talk with his daughter. His hands were sweating a bit and his knee was shaking as he was thinking about how to approach this situation.
“I’m sorry, daddy,” She mumbled with a quiet sigh and looked down at Mr. Snuggles, her plush bunny you gave her, in her lap.
“Sweetheart,” He tutted at her apology, “Why did you kick her? You know this isn’t nice. I’m very disappointed.”
Ema stayed quiet, her gaze focused only on her bunny, not daring to look up and show her tears filled eyes. Harry didn’t pressure her to talk, he knew he had to give her little mind some space.
“You like her more,” Ema whispered finally.
The quiet confession broke Harry’s heart. He knew jealousy could play a part here, but not in that significant amount.
“Ema…” Harry murmured her name sadly, his arm tightening subconsciously around you at the revelation. “I love you both so much, and you both make me so damn happy, bug. And it doesn’t mean I love one of you more or less.”
You watched the quiet exchange with bated breath and guilt creeping up your back. The last thing you wanted was to have Ema feel like this about you.
“Come closer, gimme a snuggle, darling,” He reached out his free hand to her and patiently waited until she crawled over and hid in his chest.
“I want her to live with us someday, be a proper family,” Both of yours and Ema’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise at Harry’s words, not expecting this in the slightest, but he didn’t seem to care or notice and only cradled Ema closer. “Wouldn’t you want that too? Be a big happy family?”
“Like Olivia’s family?”
“Yeah,” Harry let out a small laugh at her question about her friend from kindergarten she spent a few afternoons with, “We could have a mommy too, you know, like Olivia has,”
“Do you love me, daddy?” She asked in a small voice, her lips quivering with tears she was trying to fight.
“I love you so so so so so much, Ema. You’re my sweet girl, my little treasure,” He murmured in her curls, still untamed and messy just like his own. “Remember this, okay? I’m gonna love you forever,”
“Does she love me?” Ema peeked up at you. Her eyes were glassy and lips dropped in the most heart breaking pout that would make you give this girl the whole world. Harry followed her gaze and turned his head himself, watching you with a hopeful expression.
“I love you too, Ema.” You said softly, as if a louder tone could startle her, and hesitantly reached up to cup her cheek. “I don’t want to make you sad, sweetheart. And I don’t want to take your daddy from you. But he makes me happy too, just like you. Maybe we could share him?”
The almost silly offer lingered in the air filled with nothing but quiet sighs and your breathing for a few moments. Harry’s eyes were moving between you and his daughter as if he was watching a tennis match, not wanting to miss a single emotion and reaction from either of you. And then finally, Ema nodded.
“Okay,” She took the peace offering with a small nod and covered your hand with her smaller one on her cheek.
“One more thing Ems,” Harry gave her little body a squeeze. The main point of this conversation still unfulfilled.
“I am sorry for kicking you,” Ema whispered with a sad pout.
“Thank you, Ema. I forgive you.” You said and ran your fingers through her hair, tugging a loose strand behind her ear.
Harry’s heart was full. Seeing his two girls finally getting along made him tear up. He pressed a kiss on Ema’s cheek first before he kissed you softly on your lips. “My girls. I’m so damn happy,”
Summary: "and then his hand was finding your waist, pulling you gently into the pocket of space beside him, away from the crowd, tucking you both into the shadows like a secret, like being close wasn’t enough, like he already needed more of you."
A/N: Even though I'm bummed as fuck, I planned on posting this today. For those who need a little pick-me-up. This is for the @jarofstyles Fic Challenge. All the new promo was super inspiring, and I kind of veered off course from the original prompts... sorry!!
Word Count: 8.2K
Warning: Drug Use. Dance Floor Smut, Bi-Fem!Reader.
You hadn’t known him, the stranger from across the tent. In theory, you were only two aimless souls in a sea of people living two different lives, who probably would have never met in the real world. But as your bodies came alive with the electric pulse of the beat pounding through the space, you felt it, the rhythm thrumming like a never-ending heartbeat, pulsing from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, and you knew this night was different. Because in that moment, all you were was heat and air, and the breath that left your body, as the fevered euphoria of those surrounding you, danced through your limbs and raced through your discoed hearts, like the beat was never going to die—and when the two of you finally locked eyes, it hit you like a breeze of sound brushing over your damp skin, and your heart swelled with a new determination, as a thrilling chill tingled up your spine, forging the tether that would be drawing you to him before the end of the night
Your only goal tonight was to dance, to be somewhere outside your normal existence, and thrive with the current of life surrounding you—the people, the music. You wanted to lose yourself, mind, body, and soul—and that was what you had done. All night, you had moved from tent to tent, as the hours of the night drifted with the songs racing through your veins. You hadn’t gone alone, but somehow, you lost your friends along the way, and when your phone died, you gave up searching, because you didn’t want to suck the fun from the night when you rarely had this kind of chance to let loose and be present like this.
After drifting from tent to tent on a whim, you told yourself this would be the last spot, then you would figure out how to get home, or at least try to find a charger. Earlier, when you found yourself alone, you made friends with a girl named Sam, who was vibing the same way you were, and as you hit it off, you decided to journey through the night together. At some point, she mentioned that her brother was working a VIP tent, and that she could get you in, saying, “I owe you, girl, tonight would have been shit without someone like you to make it fun.” And you laughed, wondering how something like this could not be fun, but then you guessed, based on the way she navigated you guys from space to space—easily setting the mood like a perfectly curated playlist—that she must have done this thing all the time.
The minute you stepped into the tent, you knew it was a different playing ground, the quality of life much different from your own, the kind of people that payed for a good time, yet Sam fit right in, and as she pooled you along you just took it in, not quite ready to dip your feet into the sound experience just yet. That was when you first saw him, not thinking anything of it, just an attractive guy entering and leading a group of his friends into a tent, nothing major, but he stood out, and that was what you noticed right away. As you watched, unable to take your eyes off him, he must have sensed you looking, because he caught your gaze just as he put on a pair of sunglasses, and for a moment he held your stare.
When he finally looked away, you stood there observing his movements, his casual demeanor, like nothing about this was a big deal, yet you could tell it was, you could tell by all the influencers you kept spotting, some even talking at their cameras, even the random celebrities told you that this was the spot to be. Then your eyes almost lost him as he and his group made their way to a small corner of the tent, tucking themselves away, but you didn’t think anymore of it. “Here, take this,” Sam said, dropping a tiny pill into your hand, then shoved a bottle in the other.
“Don’t worry, I tested everything…I saved it for exactly this, because this DJ is the best one we’ll see tonight. Do you see all these rich idiots? They’ve paid thousands of dollars to be drugged out of their minds on whatever tickles their fancy, but tonight, dude…tonight we’re going to live like we’re one of them...and this Molly is just the trick.” And as you stared into her big brown eyes, something about the way she was looking at you made you want to do anything and everything that came out of her mouth just to match the energy she was giving.
Then your gaze dropped to the pill, already sticking to your sweaty palm, and she said, “Listen, this is my brother…” When you looked up, a guy with eyes similar to Sam’s was standing across from you, giving an assuring smile as if he were completely at home in this situation. “This is Josh, okay, take a picture of his face…If we get separated, you can trust him, I promise…” she told you, popping her own tiny pill into her mouth, and you watched as she chased it down with water.
And for some reason, without another thought, you did the same, so that you could free up your hand to grab your phone, and as the pill hit your tongue, the salt from your palm flashed across your taste buds, followed by the acrid taste of sulfer, and your water was opened in seconds, just to get the foul taste out of your mouth. It had been years since you rolled last, not since college, you weren’t necessarily a chicken, it just wasn’t normally your first choice, and it’s not like it was ever offered in the settings you found yourself in these days, so you thought, why the hell not, you could live, you could take chances.
“Smile, Josh!” you told,” Your heart pounding from the surge of adrenaline your simple choice brought you, yet you knew it was a risk, and you could feel it surging to the tips of your fingers as you took the picture.
Josh’s grin widened as he looked into the lens of your phone, and you snapped the picture, then you shoved the phone into your pocket, thinking something told you this wasn’t his first time playing guardian to his sister’s newfound friends. “Have fun, ladies,” he said, already melting back into the shadows of bodies behind him, and before you could process anything else, Sam’s fingers were lacing through yours, her grip firm and sure as she pulled you toward the pulsing heart of the tent.
“Come on,” she laughed, and there was something magnetic about the way she moved; you had felt it all night, her alluring gaze, her captivating smile, reeling you in like she was already riding the wave you were about to catch, “Let’s get lost in this.”
The energy was already there as the crowd swallowed you whole, heated bodies pressed close in the humid darkness, and for a moment, you felt that knowing glint of uncertainty, because of course, you didn’t know these people, hadn’t been this embedded in a world of circling drugs and VIP anything, or been this close to a drug dealer, who just happened to be your new friends brother, who was casually dealing to the wealthy with a wink and a smile. But then Sam spun to face you, her soft hands finding your waist, and gosh, her eyes were so bright and inviting, making your chest tight with the anticipation of what this night could bring.
“Hey,” she said, her mouth moving closer to your face, her breath on your cheek, “Try and loosen up, okay? We were having so much fun earlier... don’t think about anything else. Just let it all happen.”
And she was right, you guys had been having fun all night, almost instantaneously, the two of you sharing this undeniable chemistry, the way she had been so attentive to you all night, this complete stranger, like you guys had been friends your whole life. And now, maybe it was the way she said it, or maybe it was already the beginning of whatever was in that pill, but suddenly the fear was dissolving like sugar on your tongue, sweet like her smile, warm like her touch, turning into something headier. Then the bass line dropped, and you felt it thrum through your bones, and when Sam started moving, she pulled you closer, your hips meeting hers, and you moved with her, just like before, as your bodies found the rhythm. When your eyes met hers, you shared a knowing smile, something familiar, something you didn’t know you were craving.
Then that was all there was: just the breath filling your lungs and the blinking flash of the strobing lights overhead, smearing everything in hints of neon pink and electric blue—your mind solely focused on one thing, just the girl before you, watching as the light illuminated the gorgeous features of Sam in a fractured, brilliant hue—every detail—the sheen of sweat glowing across her collarbone, the way her long brown hair stuck to her neck, and every so often she would gather and lift it, allowing what little air was circulating to graze her damp neck. Then you would watch as it fell, in awe as the long strands hit her shoulders—and god, she was like magic, easily the most beautiful person there—it was everything—her touch, her focus, how her hands seemed to know exactly where to connect, making you forget everything except this moment.
And maybe this was the moment you truly let go, because you weren’t sure when the dancing had become something else, when the space between your bodies disappeared entirely, when her thigh slipped between yours, and your fingers tangled in her hair.
All at once, she was air and life, and everything that you needed, because around you, even as other bodies pressed closer, all the random hands brushing against your arms, your back, Sam seemed to be the one who anchored you—Sam, whose soft lips were suddenly so close to yours, so close you could taste the sweetness of her breath. She was like the drink of water you needed, because suddenly you were so thirsty, so fucking thirsty, and your only thought was maybe a kiss could be the only thing that could quench your thirst. She was tantalizing, the softness of her curves luring you closer and closer, as the crowd moved as one organism, swaying and pulsing to the beat, and you were part of it now, melting into the mass of heat, sound, and touch, as everything began to feel different—everything liquefying under your fingertips, like skimming your fingers over the surface of water, colors and sounds bleeding brighter at the edges of your vision, as every brush of skin against skin sent sparks down your spine and vibrated through your entire body, slowly awakening each tiny cell one bye one with each breath that you forced in.
Then Sam’s hands were on your face, your eyes drinking her in as your mouth went completely dry. Her thumbs were tracing your jaw, each touch making the skin come alive in it’s wake, as you felt the pulsing hum building between you, her thigh lifting between your legs, flush to the cotton panties under your short dress, as your clit pulsed with a racing need, your whole body canting toward her, pulling at that inevitable pull that had been there all night—and as her mouth inched toward yours, your heartbeat raced through your body, making your lips and face numb, your eyes blooming wider, as your vision narrowed to just her—and you thought, how crazy it was that fear even exsisted, how quickly it could dissapate when the heart knew what it wanted. Because you wanted this; wanted to feel the supple softness of her lips pressed to yours, as your grip on her hips tightened, afraid that if you let go, she might disappear.
In that aching breath of need, time seemed to drip like honey down your spine, each second becoming minutes of sweet desire, as you felt the chemical warmth ripple and spread like tiny waves through your veins, making every sensitive sensation sharper and deeper, more intense, and just as her lips were brushing yours, just on the sweet edge of a kiss—your legs clamping around her thigh tighter—a voice cut through the moment like a knife, and suddenly there was a guy beside you, his energy too eager, his pupils blown. “Hey—sorry to cut in, ladies—but you guys look like you’re having a good time—do you know where my friends and I can score some dust?”
Then he gestured back toward the corner of the tent, and your eyes followed automatically, past the writhing bodies and the fog machine haze, to where a small group stood apart from the crowd. And there he was—the stranger from earlier, sunglasses still on despite the darkness, and there was something about his posture that made him seem both part of and separate from everything happening around him, a mystery that loomed around the glow of his body as the light hit his face, and then he smiled, and you couldn’t force your eyes away, it was like his stare was a thread taking root, and you wanted to be closer, just to know, just to hear the sound of his voice.
When he nodded back at you, your breath caught in your chest, and without thinking, you leaned into Sam, your lips brushing her ear as your hands found her arm, grazing over the soft skin that felt like velvet, as your fingers slowly worked their way to her hand, and laced through them. “I saw that guy earlier,” you whispered, your words coming out breathless, now honeyed with a new want you didn’t quite understand. “I think I want to dance with him.”
The molly was hitting, you could tell by the weight of the words rolling off your tongue, lapping like waves of euphoria, making your skin feel like it was made of stardust glittering under the lights flashing above you, as your eyes slowly left his, and when Sam turned to look at you, her pupils were wider, as a giddy laugh bubbled up from her throat, and you both started giggling, the laughter taking over, the feeling so powerful you couldn’t stop as you felt it burst bright behind your eyes—everything was suddenly hilarious and perfect, and beautiful, the feeling almost too much, but in the best way.
“Oh my god,” Sam breathed, her hands still on you, still holding you close even as she turned back to the guy who was waiting, and you buried your face into her neck, feeling playful, feeling shy. “Take my friend with you. Then meet me by the DJ booth.” She blurted, her voice sticky-sweet with her own high, as her words ran together. “I know where to find some.”
Your face ripped from her neck in a dizzying haze, as you watched the guy’s face light up. Then Sam was pressing a kiss to your cheek, whispering, “Go have fun, baby, get what you want,” before she was slipping away into the crowd, probably heading back to find Josh, leaving you standing there with your heart hammering and your skin on fire, the stranger’s friend already reaching for your hand.
And as you took it, you felt like you were entering a different world, one where the ledge of freedom was boundless, where danger didn’t exist—where the temptations of your desires were slowly unfolding before you.
His friend’s hand was warm in yours, his grip loose but guiding, as he pulled you through the crowd like you were made of water—your body flowing effortlessly between the swaying mass of people, making each brush of skin against your bare arms send little ripples of sensation cascading down your spine. All you could see was the flashing lights and the stranger’s destination ahead, like the sea of bodies were parting just for you, as the glinting rays of violet and gold lingered in your vision, seeping into trails of light that glimmered at the limits of your eyesight, making your body pulse. And then you were there, crossing the lucid threshold into the corner of the tent where the stranger and his friends had carved out their own little world, and when you finally stood before him, everything else seemed to fall away.
He was already looking at you, like he had been waiting, like he had known you were coming all along. Up close, he was even more striking than you had thought—tall and lean, his body loose and relaxed in a way that made you want to melt into him, and when he smiled, dimples dipping, it was slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. Then he was taking off his sunglasses, revealing the true nature of his eyes, and god, they were green—the kind of green that made you think of jumping into deep water on a sunny afternoon in the heart of summer—and the way they were looking at you now, had your stomach flipping with the waves running through you, making your heart beat with the rhythm of his energy—an energy that you could feel yourself ready to consume.
“I’m Harry,” he said, leaning into your ear, his voice low and warm, cutting through the pounding bass like it was nothing, like his voice was already part of a song you were listening to, and then he leaned in even closer, his stubble grazing the sensitive skin near your ear sending chills up your arms, as you caught the clean scent of mint, and something earthy under the sweat and the smoke that clung to everyone around you—and then his hand was finding your waist, pulling you gently into the pocket of space beside him, away from the crowd, tucking you both into the shadows like a secret, like being close wasn’t enough, like he already needed more of you. Because maybe it was the drugs, or you were just horney, but even the slightest touch had your body vibrating, like an instrument he was tuning, playing each note, making your body sing out, desperate for more, for anything and everything, all at the same time.
And when he said “I noticed you,” his lips brushed your ear as his warm breath ghosted over your skin, making every tiny hair stand on end. You shivered, the racing sensation shooting up the back of your neck, and burst with the pulsing lights overhead, making you gasp and cling to his arm, as a wave of sound swelled through your body, then crashed low in your belly and spread outward like a slow fire. “When I first came in. You were standing by the DJ Booth—you looked like you were ready to have fun. I think I saw you take something…”
You turned your head to look at him, and the movement felt slow, like the thick liquid of syrup, like time itself was stretching and bending around you, and when your eyes met his, you felt that tether again—that invisible thread that had been there from the moment you saw his from across the tent—pulling taut between you, anchoring you to this stranger whose name you now knew but nothing else.
“Yeah…it must have been after I lost track of you,” you told him, and your voice came out different than you expected, softer, breathier, glazed with whatever was rolling through your bloodstream, making everything feel more, feel deeper, feel like it mattered in a way that nothing had ever mattered before. “I noticed you too...I was curious…”
His smile widened, and there was something knowing in it, something that made you feel like he could see right through you, like he understood exactly what was happening inside your body, the way the chemicals were cresting and falling like waves against a never-ending shore—and you watched as he tilted his head, those green eyes gazing at you with a magnetic focus that was stealing all your consentration, so intense it made your breath catch, and then he leaned in again, his hand tightening on your waist just enough to draw you closer.
“May I ask what you took?” he questioned, and there was no judgment in it, just curiosity, just a genuine desire to know.
“Molly,” you breathed, and suddenly saying it out loud made it feel more tangible somehow, more aware of the way your heartbeat was thrumming through every inch of your body, or the way your skin felt like it was humming with static—teeny, tiny little electric beats, dancing and swaying with every touch and sound even as you were completely still. “My friend, Sam, gave it to me. Her brother—”
“Oh, yeah—Josh.” Harry said, completing your sentence, nodding as if he understood, “Sam is usually with him, but never with a friend, not like this…” He said, pulling back as his eyes roamed down the length of your body, like his intentions were being set, like this was all perfectly normal, and maybe it was, in this world, in this tent packed full of rich humans doing lavish, careless things. “He’s a good guy. We all know him. You’re in good hands.”
Then he reached behind him, his body shifting, and when his hand came back, he was holding a metal bottle, and he held it out to you like an offering. “Here. You should drink some water…stay hydrated.”
You looked at the bottle, then back at him, and something playful blinked through you, cutting through the haze of want and warmth just enough for you to raise an eyebrow. “I know better than to take drinks from strangers,” you teased, as a flirtatious streak inched through you in a way you hadn’t quite intended but didn’t regret.
Harry laughed, and the sound of it did something to your brain, made your chest feel tight and giddy, made you want to hear it again and again until you had memorized every note. “Smart girl,” he told you, and then he was bringing the bottle to his own lips, tipping it back, and you watched—spellbound, and fucking hypnotized—as the water slipped into his mouth, as the long column of his throat worked with each swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing in a way that made your mouth go completely dry. Then a single drop escaped the corner of his lips, trailing down his chin, catching the light right before he swiped it away with the pad of his thumb, and slowly dragged it across the swell of his bottom lip—and you felt your thighs press together involuntarily, felt that aching throb between your legs begin to quake.
When he lowered the bottle, his heated gaze found yours, his stare bringing something darker, more intentional, and you licked your lips without thinking, suddenly so thirsty, but not just for water—for something else, something more—your mind already reeling over how quickly the heart’s desire could shift, could want something new, something overwhelmingly different, in the span of a single breath.
“Your turn,” he rasped, his voice rough, and he pressed the bottle into your hand.
Without hesitation, you took it, feeling the cool metal surge through your palm, and slowly—still skeptical—you brought it to your mouth, never taking your eyes off him. When the water hit your tongue and slid cold and crisp down your throat, it was incredible, like the best thing you’d ever tasted, so damn good that you actually moaned, the sound escaping before you could stop it. The sensation broke through you like a dam opening—the cold rushing and spreading through your chest and meeting the heat in the boom of your belly, creating something electric, something that flashed and fizzled along every nerve ending until your toes were curling inside your shoes and your eyes fluttered half-closed from the pure relief of it.
Suddenly, the water was sacred, and reviving, and you drank deeper, not caring anymore how it looked, or when the water overflowed past your lips and spilled down your chin, trailing cold paths down your neck, and pooled in the hollow of your throat before continuing down, like a river, slipping between your breasts and into the cleavage of your dress, and soaking into the fabric, but it felt so good—the cool only amplifying the vivid waves coursing through you. You would have poured the entire bottle over you if you hadn’t felt like you needed it more. In that moment, you had no shame, you didn’t care because you could see the way Harry was watching you, the way his teeth were sinking into his bottom lip, the way his eyes tracked every drop of water as it made its journey down your body, and you knew—Because you could tell by the way he was looking at you—that he liked what he saw.
When you finally lowered the bottle, gasping, your chest heaving, Harry took a step closer again, eliminating what little space had crept between you. His hand came up to your face, and for a second, you thought he was going to touch you, and then thought you might actually combust if he did, but instead, he just brushed his thumb across the corner of your mouth, catching the last lingering drop of water there.
“Better?” he questioned, but you could only nod, your voice lost somewhere in the rush of your own heartbeat.
Then his hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you in, and you went willingly, your body moving like it had been waiting for exactly this, like every step you had taken tonight had been leading you here, to this corner, to this stranger named Harry who was looking at you like you were the only person at the entire festival, and now all you could feel was the heat radiating from his body, could feel the solid warmth of his chest against yours, and when he started to move, guiding you with him, his motion was slow, matching the rhythm of the bass still pounding through the tent, and strangely enough, despite all your fear and shyness, it felt like the most natural thing in the world—for his strong hands to be holding you against him, while swaying in time with the breath leaving your body, as your bodies began to find the same pace—the gesture was entrancing, intimate, as your body sang out, moving in sync with his.
As your connection grew, time became this mystifying concept that stretched and veered like elastic, as fluid as the movement of each sounding beat, pulsing through the space, expanding and contracting like lungs taking in air, flowing in and out in ways that shouldn’t have been possible. Yet, there you were, you and Harry somehow existing in your own realm, your own private world etched out from the chaos around you, as the dancing became talking, became touching, became something that had no name, just a feeling. His hands moved across your hips, then your waist, then traced up your sides in a way that only made you want more—and when the words stopped, all that told you of the man pressed against you was the way he moved—the way your bodies fit like matching pieces, melding together into the shape of one being, forging a familiar connection, the kind you only ever felt after sex—Because who was this mysterious man who seemed both completely at ease and somehow watchful, like he was used to being looked at but not used to being seen, yet he let you watch him, didn’t shy away, and that only made you more intrigued.
And all the while, the waves kept coming—rolling through you in peaks and valleys, each one making your skin feel more alive, more sensitive, more desperate for contact. Every brush of Harry’s fingers was like a tiny explosion of pleasure, sparks cascading down through your body, making you gasp and lean into him, and you could tell by the way his breath would catch, by the way his pupils would blow wider in the darkness, that he felt it too—that maybe he was on something similar, or maybe you were just that intoxicating to each other.
“There you are!” a familiar voice shouted, cutting through the captivating haze of Harry’s presence. Reluctantly, you turned, and the movement felt like swimming through honey, to find Sam emerging beside you. Your eyes scanned over her, reacquainting with the features that had stolen you so entirely earlier—her flushed cheeks, her glowing beauty, that wide and wild smile that had drawn you in from the start. She was holding something in her hand, her fingers curled around it protectively, and when she looked between you and Harry, her grin turned knowing.
“I see you’ve been making friends,” she said, and then she was pressing close to you, her body fitting against your other side, and god, the sensation of being sandwiched between them—between the soft curves of Sam and Harry’s strong stature—made your head spin in a frantic frenzy to hold onto every feeling buzzing through you.
“I brought you something,” Sam continued, and when she opened her hand, there were three tiny pills nestled in her palm, catching the fractured light of the changing strobes above. “Round two. For the best part of the night...” She told you, leaning closer, then pressed a kiss to your cheek.
You looked at her, then at Harry, who was already plucking one of the pills from her palm with a casual ease that said he had done this before, probably many times, that this was just another night in a life that seemed as foreign, and beyond any concept in your mind, like wishing on a distant star, hoping that the wish would come true. He raised an eyebrow at you, a silent question, and something in you, maybe some last lingering thread of caution, whispered that this was probably too much, maybe even too fast, or even the exact kind of thing you would regret in the morning—
But then Sam was pressing the tiny pill into your hand, and her fingers lingered against your palm, and god, all you could think was how beautiful she was, as she looked at you with those big brown beautiful eyes, and Harry, dammit, he was looking at you too, and the music was pounding and the lights were flashing, and fuck, weren’t you already so far from the person you had been at the beginning of the night? And in that split second, the distance from you now, and that person then felt unbridgeable—you were already here, you were already doing this, and now you were going to see it through.
“Together,” Sam yelled, holding up her own pill, and Harry did the same, and all of the sudden, it felt like a ritual, felt like a pact, felt like you were sealing something between the three of you that couldn’t be taken back, a contract that would be set for the rest of the night.
And so you raised your pill, brought it to your lips, and when all three of you swallowed at the same time, you felt something shift in the air around you, felt the charge in the power of choice, an electricity rising with the knowing—the thrill gesturing a promise of what was to come.
The next wave hit harder than the first, building and building until you felt like you might burst at the fucking seams with it, like whatever you had felt before was happening ten times over—you had no control, you were letting it take you, your body moving to the beat as you danced. Before long, Sam’s hands were finding your body again, the two of you picking up where you had left off, your attraction peaking as she pulled you into her. Her hands moved to your face, and then her mouth met yours again, but this time with no reservation. The kiss was soft, slow, as her lips melded to yours, as if the wave rolling up her spine was in sync with your very own, and as it crested, you felt the hunger set in.
Because then her tongue was sliding across your lips, asking for permission, until you opened for her, letting her in, as every ounce of her energy poured into you, and your tongue basked in the sweetness of her mint-stained breath, letting it all rush to your head. All you could think was how perfect, how fucking good it was, as you moaned into her mouth, your desperate hands already seeking her waist, her hips, the curve of her ass through her thin dress, and you gripped, pressing her closer, and her thigh slid between yours just like before—just like those moments before everything spiraled into something else.
The energy was still shifting, settling into whatever silent pact the three of you had formed, because as you were getting lost in Sam your body was still aware of the heat at your back—the feeling unwavering and sure, as you felt Harry’s chest press into you harder, felt his heated breath on your shoulder, as his hands found your hips from behind—and there you were caught between them now, poised between Sam’s softness and Harry’s strength, as your body became a vessel for sensation, for pleasure, for every overwhelming feeling that was crashing through you like a fury of power you never knew existed.
Harry wasn’t afraid to take what he wanted, as his lips brushed your shoulder, your neck, leaving tingling trails of vibrations in their wake. His hands were searching, moving down your body in a slowed frenzy, taking his time until he slid his large hand down between you and Sam’s bodies, and you gasped into Sam’s mouth as his fingers found the space where your hips met Sam’s thigh, and when he pressed, when they both pressed, you choked on your moan, your whole body jolting with a pleasure so overwhelming and sweet it edged on an aching pain to be ruined. Yet, there was Sam, swallowing every sound, each one only making the kiss deeper, as her hand came up to tangle in your hair, and you felt Harry’s other hand slip around to your stomach, pressing you back against him, letting you feel the heat of him, the hard, bulging want of him against the curve of your ass, and you pressed into it.
You were lost, completely, and utterly lost in a universe they were creating, each body connecting and moving until you had no clue where you ended and they began, as your mind losttrack of everything except the rhythm of your three bodies moving together, finding a pace that was entirely your own in a tent full of strangers—Sam’s mouth, Harry’s hands, the throb between your legs that was mounting and climbing with every brush of flesh, every whispered word, every roll of hips. At some point, your bodies had shifted, and you realized the bare thigh between your legs was Harry’s, and now, it was pressed against you, pressed against the thin wet fabric of your panties, and without thought you were grinding against it without shame, chasing the friction, chasing the relief that was building like a scream budding at the back of your throat.
Your mind kept moving through pockets of reality, moving as fast as the bass pounding through you. As the second pill hit its peak, Sam and Harry’s faces became a blur—who was kissing who, whose mouth was on yours now, whose hands were where, you didn’t know. It was euphoria and madness competing, and you found yourself struggling to keep your eyes open through all the pleasure, through all the moments when your body felt like it would explode from another touch, but then a kiss was breaking, and someone’s mouth was leaving yours, and when you forced your eyes open at a moment of control, it was Sam again, and you both stood there panting, and she pushed her forehead to yours, her eyes glassy and unfocused, her smile so beautiful it made your chest ache. “God, Girl…” she breathed, “you’re so pretty like this. So fucking pretty.”
And then Harry was there, his mouth at your ear, his voice a low rasp that rippled through your entire body. “She’s right,” he said, and his hand was moving now, sliding down from your stomach, down over the front of your dress again, down to where you needed him most. “You’re fucking stunning.”
His hand began to move, and suddenly, you didn’t know who to turn to, who to kiss, who to cling to—you wanted them both, wanted everything they were giving you, wanted to drown in the sensation of being wanted by two people at once, of having your cup overflow with attention and desire and the touch of hands that were needy for you. And they seemed to understand, seemed to read you flawlessly, because they kept moving with you, kept touching you, kept making you feel like you were the center of the galaxy opening up between the three of you.
As you shifted again, Harry guided you backward slowly, his hands gentle on your waist until you felt the cool press of the tent wall against your back, tucking you into the darkest corner of their little section, hidden from view by shadows and bodies and the sheer mess of the crowd beyond. Sam followed, her body now pressed against your front again, as Harry moved behind you, letting his weight rest against the tent wall, sandwiching you once more. It was; something about this change felt safe and dominating at the same time, as the heat of their bodies burned through you.
Sam kissed you again, taking each movement slower this time, more intentional in the way she moved. Then Harry’s hand slid down to cup you through your dress, his palm pressing against your throbbing core, and you whimpered into Sam’s mouth, your hips rolling into his touch without conscious thought, as his fingers began to move in slow circles, elevating the pressure, slowly rising and swelling, and you were already so close, had been close for what felt like hours, and everything was heightened, every sensation amplified a thousandfold until you couldn’t tell if you were coming, or if you had been coming this whole time, but still you wanted more.
And this time, when Sam pulled back from the kiss, her lips trailed down your jaw, down your neck, sucking at the pulse point gently, and you let your head fall back against Harry, let your eyes flutter open just enough to see Harry’s face above you, his green eyes dark with want, his lips parted, his breath coming faster now. And when he leaned in to kiss you, it was nothing like kissing Sam—it was harder, hungrier, his tongue demanding entrance, his teeth catching your bottom lip in a way that made you cry out against his mouth. His fingers kept moving, kept pressing, kept circling that spot that was driving you insane, and you were climbing, surging toward something you could barely comprehend.
Sam’s mouth was drifting, pressed to your collarbone now, her tongue tracing the line of it, and you felt her hand slide down to cover Harry’s, felt her guide his fingers more firmly against you, and the combined pressure made your knees buckle, made you grateful for the sturdy hold of Harry’s body and the way their bodies were holding you up.
“I want to watch him make you come,” Sam whispered, lifting her mouth to your ear, and fuck, her words were like striking a match, like pouring gasoline over fire, and you had to reach down, had to grab Harry’s wrist and still his hand, because you were right there, right on the edge, and you weren’t sure you could survive going over just yet.
“I’m going to go dance with his friend,” Sam continued, pulling back to look at you, her eyes encouraging and mischievous at the same time. “But I’ll be watching…”
You nodded, at a loss for words, and your body trembled with the effort of holding back, of not letting go right there with both of them still pressed against you. Sam smiled that smile—that sexy, knowing smile that had reeled you in from the very beginning—and pressed one last kiss to your lips, soft and sweet, lingering just long enough to have you wanting.
Then her gaze flicked to Harry, and something passed between them, some wordless communication that you were too far gone to interpret. “Have fun,” Sam said, and then her gaze swept back to you, and her smile widened, and she was slipping away, just like that, melting into the crowd as if she had never been there at all, leaving you alone with Harry.
For a moment, neither of you moved. Harry’s hand was still between your legs, motionless and waiting, his body rigid with the tension of holding back, his restraint barely steady, like he was holding himself accountable by sheer force of will. And you realized, in that moment, that you needed to tell him—needed him to know—because suddenly the wanting was too much, was consuming you from the inside out, because if he didn’t touch you, you might die.
“I want you,” you said, turning to face him, your voice wrecked, but you knew he heard it, knew by the way his eyes flashed in the darkness. “Don’t stop, okay? Whatever you do, just please don’t stop.”
He nodded, and without pause, he was moving, switching your positions, until your back was flush against the wall, and he forced his body against you, solid and heavy, the perfect weight and pressure. His thigh moved between your legs again, and you could feel the hard length of him against your hip, could feel how much he wanted you, and the idea of his dick made you dizzy with power and need.
“I won’t stop, this is your warning,” he forced, his voice rough, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. “Let go for me…I’ve got you, okay…”
And then his hands were at the hem of your dress, sliding underneath, his fingers finding the waistband of your soaked panties, the material rendered useless and ruined, evidence of everything you had been feeling all night. He hooked his fingers into the fabric and pulled, slowly, dragging them down your thighs as your body shivered with the anticipation, as his steady hands moved past your knees, until you were stepping out of them, and you watched, breathless, as he balled them up in his fist and shoved them into his pocket as if they belonged to him now.
“For later,” he said, and the promise in those words made your clit throb so hard you had to bite your lip to keep from moaning out.
Then he was pushing his thigh up to your bare pussy, and when you looked down you notice the hint of a tattoo, peeking from where the hem of your dress had bunched, and holy fuck, this guy was so hot, you thought, as his skin heated seeped into your slick folds—and as his hands grasped hold of your hips, gripping hard enough to gain control, his eyes bore into yours with a hunger that made you feel like you were never going to be the same again.
“Take what you want…what you need, love,” he said. “Use me.”
And so you did…
Because then you were rolling your hips, letting the slick of your pussy coat the damp skin pressing into you, as you ground against the hard muscle of his thigh. The friction was glorious, was everything, was the answer to every question your body had been asking all night. As you grabbed hold of his shoulders, you noticed Harry was watching you, and you took inventory, taking in the hard line of his tight jaw, his ragged breath, the way his hands were guiding, but not controlling, letting you set the pace, letting you chase your own pleasure while he held you steady.
You knew it wouldn’t take long; you could already feel it building the second he stole your panties—that wave, that fucking crest that felt boundless. Your body was climbing higher and higher, as you rocked and ground your hips against him, bearing your weight into his strong thigh, as your fingers dug into his shoulders, your head falling back against the wall as the pleasure spiraled tighter and tighter, puddling into liquid molten, your pussy making a mess of him.
“That’s it,” Harry groaned, his voice straining, as his thigh flexed beneath you. “Fuck, Love, you’re so wet—I can feel you—you’re close, aren’t you?”
But, you couldn’t answer, could only whimper, could only nod, could only keep moving, keep chasing, keep reaching for that edge that was so close now you could taste it, could feel it aching through your gritted teeth as you forced back your moan, holding your breath because you knew this was it—that you were going to take it, your hips gliding with such ease against his soaked skin, and just as you were about to tell him, felt the words about to burst from the back of your throat—he pulled his thigh away without warning.
And fuck, the sudden loss of pressure made you cry out, made your eyes fly open, made you reach for him with desperate hands as you found your footing—but he was already there, already catching you, already sliding his hand between your thighs to replace what he had taken from you. His fingers slid to your entrance with ease, your pussy so slick and ready that he groaned at the contact, and when he pushed two long fingers inside you, you nearly shouted his name, as the stretch and the fullness sent shockwaves of pleasure radiating out through your entire body.
“I’ve got you,” he said again, and then he was moving, his fingers curling inside you, working you, inching toward that spot that made stars bloom behind your eyes, as his thumb pressed into your pulsing clit, and you moaned into his shoulder, your whole body screaming with pleasure as you rolled your hips to meet his hand, and you lifted your leg to wrap around his hip, to pull him closer, to drive his fingers deeper.
You were there, you were right at that edge, peaking with every thrust of his fingers—it wouldn’t take long, not with everything that had been building all night, not with the drugs still singing through your veins, not with the way Harry was touching you, knowing exactly what you needed, like he was in your mind controlling every movement, anticipating every need that was rising, as the pleasure crested and broke, and you came with a cry muffled against his neck, your tongue dragging across the salt-slick flesh of his throat, tasting him, claiming him, as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed through you, each one more intense than the last, until you were shaking, your whole body trembling, barely able to stand.
Harry held you through it, his fingers still moving gently inside you, drawing out every last ripple of pleasure until you were gasping, your oversensitive pussy shuttering, as you pushed weakly at his wrist—and it was only then that he pulled his hand away, and you watched, dazed, your mind a blissed-out chasm of need collapsing in on itself, as he brought his glistening fingers to his lips and licked them clean, making you swallow hard as your mouth went dry.
“Mmmm,” he breathed, his pupils blown wide. “I knew you would taste good.”
And holy shit, you were a goner, and your body went limp in his arms, growing weightless as you sagged against him, every limb liquid and loose, and for a long moment, you just breathed together, his heart pounding against your chest, yours pounding against his. And then, slowly, your hand drifted down between your bodies, as your fingers fumbled and grazed over the thick bulge straining against the front of his shorts, and you palmed him through the fabric, feeling him twitch beneath your touch.
But before you could do more, his hand caught your wrist, halting any further actions.
“Not here,” he forced, trying to gain his composure, but you could tell he was desperate, and there was something in the way that he was looking at you that made you want to fall to your knees right then and there. “Come back to mine with me.”
It was a suggestion yes, but more a plea, and as you looked up at him, at his flushed face and swollen lips, his eyes were still burning with want, and you knew—you just knew—that if you went with him, this night would become something else entirely, something that would mark you, change you, leave indents on your soul that would never fully fade.
“Not without my friend,” you told him, because even now, even lost in the haze of him, you couldn’t abandon Sam, couldn’t leave her behind.
Harry smiled, something slow and knowing, something that hinted at promise. “Okay,” he answered. “But only because I want you so bad.”
And you leaned up on your toes, and pressed your lips to the corner of his mouth, and let your breath ghost across his skin as you whispered your answer.
“Good,” you said. “Because, now I’m going to let you have me any way that you want.”
OKAY BABE, i'm sending asks to my favourite creators with lists of my favourite bots they've created so it's easier for me to just link to their post replying to it if they have a lot of bots that i love, instead of exceeding my link limit. and also so their followers can appreciate your work 😽
starting strong
you're staying over for a week (age gap)
tweeting about each other
highschool sweethearts
divorced parents who can't stay away
you had a fight with your boyfriend
a long drive on the tour bus
you meet his family
you had a fight with your boyfriend (2015 version)
age gap relationship
you show up for his birthday
you're the one he really loves
you're in the band and secretly dating
texting during an x-factor break
you're going out with your ex
former band mates
age gap relationship (he's younger)
he doesn't want to leave the bed
you moved in together
you're his date for his mom's wedding
start of the hiatus
he helps you ask your crush out
you two are dating (pre x-factor)
at the pool together
his school crush (pre x-factor)
rivals who like to flirt
he's your possessive ex
he helps you study
zayn's best friend
together on his yacht
he's faking sick so you'll take care of him
sharing an umbrella
your daughter recognises him
game night with you and your younger brother
"style", by taylor swift
niall's best friend at a party
"dial drunk", by noah kahan
you're trying to stay together for your kid
you're sick and he's making you food
he comes home because of a spider emergency
together in rome
he stays at your beach house with the boys
on a vacation together
"temporary fix"
a spontaneous date in paris
you're in a pr relationship, and you hate it
he calms you down and the boys get suspicious
he's in love with you (you're in the band)
"we never go out of style"
he's wearing your sweater
he just won aoty
"keep driving"
you go on holiday without your kids
you come home with your first baby
professor x student
you tell him your fiance cheated on you
he shows you hs1 for the first time
he likes an interviewer
he helps you study (age gap)
his girlfriend's big premiere
princess and her knight (secret romance)
he doesn't want you to be alone
it's your first time seeing his show
your boyfriend cheated on you (louis' sister)
you meet again at the x-factor bootcamp
you two are on a game show to find love
he gets jealous over you flashing a clerk
you're his house keeper
his tattoo artist for the butterfly tattoo
he's piercing his ears for your daughter
he gets his banner at msg
you sing a song to him you wrote about niall
your mom dies (toxic marriage)
"i'd rather try with you a million times"
fans figure out your song is about him
i hope the links are right lolololol 💞
oh my god there's thousands of them
thank you soooooo much for liking my bots this much (and this many of them) 🩷🩷🩷
and sorry i didn't post this yesterday, i didn't open tumblr the whole day
i just want to thank you all for the support and requests and everything else you’ve given me during my time so far here. i’m so proud of all of these bots, but none of them would’ve been possible without you guys! 2 million interactions is insane (2.1 as of today—ahhh!). so, thank you thank you thank you!! a million times thank you! i promise this bot dump isn’t a goodbye, just a see you later! MWAH!!
izzy806
pixelskylines
germansingergirl
baratheonpilled
tangentwithtanner
janainaart
discoholicmusic
blakekathryn
andulkaphoto
snowghoul
