content: chaotic couple energy, pda, teasing, public mischief, soft!harry behind it all
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The thing about dating Harry Styles was that people expected charm. Grace. Mystery, maybe. Something refined and a little poetic.
What they didn’t expect? You.
You—his loud-mouthed, snort-laughing, lip-gloss-wearing girlfriend with an attitude and a complete disregard for appropriate public behavior. And, somehow, the absolute love of his life.
It starts with you dragging him into a photo booth at a random LA diner at 11pm, both of you tipsy on milkshakes and fries. He tries to behave, poses with a shy little smirk for the first photo—but then you lick his neck in the second one, and he’s gone. There’s no recovery from that. The third frame is a mess of teeth and hands and your laughter echoing way too loud for the sleepy place you’re in.
He has the strip of photos in his wallet to this day.
Then there’s the incident at Whole Foods.
Harry’s just trying to get oat milk. That’s all he wanted. Oat milk.
But you’re pushing the cart and suddenly you’re leaning in, whispering in his ear, “If you bend over like that again in those pants, I will climb you like a tree in aisle seven.”
He chokes on air. Knocks over a box of granola bars. An old lady gasps. You grin like the devil.
Later that day, you’re walking down Melrose hand in hand, and you keep pulling him into alleys to “make out like teenagers.” You make him hold your leg up against a brick wall. Harry can’t stop giggling, hiding behind his sunglasses as if they make you both less obvious. The paparazzi photos are wild. You’re labeled “the menace.” Harry’s grinning in every single one.
At a dinner party, you slide your hand under the table and trace your name on his thigh while maintaining a perfectly polite conversation with Olivia Wilde. Harry nearly knocks over his wine glass when your fingers go a little too high. “Can’t take you anywhere,” he hisses, cheeks red, eyes dark.
“Then stop taking me,” you shrug, licking dessert off your spoon like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.
But the truth? He lives for it. For you.
You with your shameless affection and chaotic flirting and your need to pull him into dressing rooms just to "check how the lighting looks on your outfit while he's inside."
You are a menace.
And Harry Styles is happily your accomplice.
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✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work.
“Okay! All done,” she can hear the smile in his voice, and she instantly feels like a lecher. What the hell was she doing having a thought like that? “Would you get me?”
It’s no better, rubbing the sunscreen into his shoulders. Harry is so broad – he never wears clothes that show it off much, but Y/N had seen him in a workout tank top once and almost gasped. His shoulders are big; his back is sculpted – it’s the sort of thing you might see on an inspo page for working out. It leads into the shape of his biceps and triceps, and maybe it’s for the best that she isn’t that close to Harry? Because clearly, she’d been around him for like a day and a half and she can’t have a normal thought to save her fucking life.
Beneath her fingers, his skin is warm and soft. She doesn’t even realize that the sunscreen is gone until she’s been rubbing it on him for like two minutes.
“Ah, I used too much,” she lied through her teeth, patting his shoulders gently, “There you go, all done.”
or
Y/N has to room with Harry on vacation, and she can't be normal
(A/N: HI FRIENDS!!!! I just wanted to apologize that this took so long!! BUTTT HERE'S THE BEACH VACAY FICCIE I'VE BEEN PROMISING! I hope you guys like it! Even with the writer's block, I had a lot of fun writing it, so let me know if you want a part 2, or else I'll overthink and think you hate it hehe. LOVE YOU, THANK YOU FOR BEING PATIENT WITH ME! Also, guys, I have never been to this part of Japan that they're vacationing in, so I'm sorry if things are wrong, I was just doing research as I went!)
(16.7k+ words)
i.
Y/N has never been to a beach house.
She’s been to a beach, yeah, and she’s been to a house, obviously, but the mix of the two? That’s for people who own shares in oil companies and sleep on Egyptian cotton sheets that they can regularly afford to change. Owning a house in an area even remotely near a beach could be a hole in the pocket, but owning a separate house, away from where you live, just so that you have somewhere fun to spend a couple of weeks in the Summer? That’s a whole separate type of wealth Y/N has never once experienced; one that had been relegated to maladaptive daydreams where she’s famous and getting paparazzi photos taken of her near the ocean for a new single.
So when her friends suggested they rent one in Japan for a little summer vacation, she snorted and asked them if everybody had 3000 each to put toward it. But it turned out that Niall’s uncle’s friend actually owned one. His wife grew up in Minamiizu and wanted to be able to travel back easily now and then when she wanted to visit, but didn’t necessarily want a house there. There was a beach house in Shimoda for sale at the time of them looking, which directly bordered Minamiizu on the southern tip of the Izu Peninsula. It was roughly a two-and-a-half-hour train ride to Tokyo, so they could spend a couple of days in the city as well.
His uncle’s friend was offering them a cheaper rate than anyone would on Airbnb, so long as they promised not to do any gross damage that would need fixing afterward. Which meant, for half the price that a typical Airbnb would charge, they would have a week and a half at a beach house. And when they all managed to get PTO from their respective jobs, managed their other non-work-related commitments around it, and bought their plane tickets, Y/N realized that this was actually happening. They do a lot of talking and fantasizing about different trips that they want to take, but not very often do they come to fruition.
Y/N was excited, though, and a little nervous. It was her friend group, sure, but she had only travelled long distances with Niall (it was on a whim, in his pursuit to meet a man he’d been talking to in Spain, whom she thought they were about to bring back with them on some sort of spousal visa, but he ended up lowkey being a catfish). Y/N was unsure of what all of their travel types were – who was type A, type B, or (in Niall’s case) type C? Y/N knew Adam would be type A, because he’s type A in every other aspect of his life, but how many type As could be in a group without it being too many chefs in the kitchen? And how many type B’s can there be before they get nothing done because nobody has a set itinerary? And how many people were going to threaten to beat Niall for the state he often leaves bathrooms in after he’s done getting ready?
She isn’t sure. Niall, Adam, Mei, and Y/N have known each other since UNI, where they all got disgustingly close in their dorm the first year, when they all used the common room often because they hated their randomly assigned roommates. Then, for the next three years, they shared a four-bedroom flat just a block or two from campus and saw each other at various states of disarray. Then, Mei introduced them to Chris, who worked in the same cafe she did while she was looking for a job that pertained to her degree, and he slid into their group quickly and easily. Niall met Maeve during a mixer that they both happened to attend because they both thought they might be Bi (Niall is still on the fence; Maeve has come to realize she is), and while sparks didn’t fly in a relationship sense, Niall invited her to the bar, and they all hit it off well. And Adam met Harry in the lab where he works, and. . . .
The thing is – Harry is very sweet. He was the person who trained Adam at his job for the two-month period during which they were oriented to the new position. Apparently, lab politics could be sort of intense, and the drama that brewed there was as aggressive as the Bacillus species (whatever that means), and new people get eaten alive there. Harry, allegedly, wouldn’t let Adam get caught up in the drama and once took the fall for something he knew that he would be forgiven for, but Adam would never be able to live down. From that point on, Adam invited Harry to everything they did, and Harry fit in nicely.
But Harry didn’t fit in because his humor was the same or because he necessarily liked the same things as them. Chris and Maeve were as brash and crass as they all could be. Harry fit in because he was polite – he was tender and kindhearted, and very gentle. He didn’t speak much, but his eyes were always very sweet and soft, and when he spoke, it was thought-out and careful. Harry was the opposite of brazen; he cared plenty about how he came off to others, and she thinks that’s why he holds himself the way he does. Yet it was still genuine. His nature was just good, honestly. He was born to save kittens from trees, help kids cross roads, and load up groceries in the elderly’s cars.
For this reason, Harry also seems to have to do a lot of emotional labor for the group, which Y/N isn’t a fan of. It’s because he’s so kind and gentle that everyone is always bothering him with their problems. It’s one thing to express stress or feelings to a friend, but it’s another thing to know that Harry will listen, no matter if it’s the same issue a billion times, with gentle guidance and a soft suggestion. His feelings don’t get hurt when you don’t take the suggestion, though, and he’ll always act like it’s his first time hearing you complain about the same thing, though the little things he remembers tell you that he is intimately aware of every nook and cranny of the problem.
There were plenty of times that Y/N had to coax a drunk Mei or an overly disgruntled Niall away from Harry when they were out and he’d been trapped in their hot seat for a while. “Why don’t we let Harry enjoy some of his night too?” She’d suggested as she guided them away, then ended up lending her ear to the same problem that they were ignoring the answer to.
It didn’t help that Harry was ridiculously smart, too, in all the things that you’d need a smart friend for, so he’s always getting bothered with finance questions, medical questions, and even house-related issues (“Should I get a contractor or do you think I could do this myself?” “Well, do you know how to do it yourself?” “No, but I think I could watch a video on it or something?” “I mean. . .well, that is one option, and you’re welcome to try it, but I think it’d be smarter to get a contractor. I actually know a couple, I can get something scheduled for you?”).
It’s not always like that – they don’t keep him around just to use his brain – but it does happen quite a bit. Y/N thinks Harry might like it too. There’s always a pleased smile on his face whenever the conversation is over, and he never seems to be too annoyed when someone treats him a little like a search engine. He still laughs with all of them, still jokes, and keeps turning up, so he must enjoy them. Hell, Y/N thinks she gets more annoyed with it than he does.
She thinks maybe that’s why she and Harry had never gotten super close. They were friends, yes, but he was the only one she’d never hung out with one-on-one. Y/N isn’t sure why. . .maybe because she just never got an “in”, so to speak? Like, he helped Niall through a pretty difficult situationship debacle that Y/N’s only answer to solve was ‘burn him alive’, and now he and Harry routinely go out for coffee, trying new cafes together as one of their hobbies. He directed Chris to a trusted gutter guy who would quote him a reasonable price on a complete gutter overhaul, and for this reason, he and Chris got together to do house projects a lot with each other (Chris had even helped Harry build his sister’s gazebo – Y/N didn’t know either of them could operate a drill until that). Usually, it went like this: Harry helps a friend, the relationship opens, and Harry and the friend get closer because of it.
But Y/N didn’t want to bother Harry with her issues. She barely wanted to tell anyone when she was going through something because she didn’t want to be a burden. And that doesn’t really fit well with the order Harry does things in, so they just never got past the overly polite stage of their dynamic.
Still, Y/N has noticed that Harry stares quite a bit. She doesn’t know if he realizes he’s doing it, but if she feels eyes on her, there’s a 9 out of 10 chance that it’s Harry’s gaze. Almost like he was trying to figure her out or something? She doesn’t know. As soon as she locked eyes with him, he’d dart to look away with a blushing face, and Y/N never called him out on it because. . .well, that’s just not their relationship.
(She had brought it up to Niall in passing, who said something along the lines of, “Hate to break it to you, but you’re a pretty girl – he probably likes you, and it makes him awkward.”).
That’s why it’s just a little awkward when Y/N realizes that she and Harry are sitting right beside each other on the plane. It’s a long way to Japan to be sitting beside someone you don’t even regularly speak to. She was less worried about not knowing what to say to him and more worried about Harry realizing that she didn’t know what to say to him. Like, the last thing she wanted was for Harry to think that she didn’t like him, and she’s a grade-A yapper, so if she all of a sudden just didn’t speak, it would look a little suspicious, no? And Harry would be the person to notice something like that, because he notices things about everybody and everything – he’s very observant.
For that reason, she does her best to wipe any sense of hesitation from her face. She doesn’t want Harry to see it and feel like she was upset, because she wasn’t upset at all. At least, not with him, just at her complete inability to speak with him in a meaningful way that would make him comfortable.
“Looks like you and I are together!” Y/N smiled softly as they looked at their tickets.
Harry smiled too, but followed up his smile with, “Do you want me to switch with Niall or Mei? That way, you could sit next to a friend?”
And how he said it sort of made her feel sick to her stomach. It was a genuine suggestion and statement – he didn’t say it with any vitriol or spite, but it was the way he’d said it so nonchalantly that unsettled her. Like, he didn’t believe for a second that they were close enough to sit on the plane with each other forever, which, maybe, was true, but she didn’t like how it sounded.
“What? No! You’re my friend too.”
Y/N must have seemed as legitimately startled and unsettled as she felt, because his eyes widened: “Oh, I didn’t mean – I didn’t mean like, we weren’t or anything! I just meant so – you know, because you’re closer, and – I didn’t –”
“Well, Mei snores, and Niall is the worst manspreader in the world,” she told him, “So unless you don’t want to sit with me, then you’re stuck with me.”
“No, I do! I don’t mind sitting with you at all.”
So Y/N is in front of Harry as they make their way to their seats in the tight walkway between rows. When they are stowing their carry-ons overhead, Harry grabs for hers first and makes sure that it slips in easily before working his own on. Even though Y/N’s seat wasn’t technically the window seat, he ushered her in first and took the one in the middle, so he’d be sitting next to the stranger. Y/N is almost overwhelmed by the amount he had taken care of her in all of 5-minutes. Is this the same treatment he’s giving all of their friends?
“I hope this doesn’t come off as rude,” Harry began, pointing at his headphones, “But I have a few audiobooks that I downloaded for the flight. I was going to listen to one of them after we took off, if that’s okay?”
“Oh, no, that’s – that’s perfectly fine, don’t worry about me.”
It was as simple as that. Y/N had been all worried for nothing, just for Harry to be the one to shut her out. Hell, maybe he didn’t like her or something – not that she expected him to speak to her the entire flight. She’d just been panicking about not knowing what to say to him, but she does wonder if he would have put his headphones on for anyone else soon after takeoff. Or, well, Y/N wondered if anyone else would have given him the chance to. He’d said he’d downloaded the audiobooks for the flight, so maybe this was his plan all along.
God, why the hell is she overthinking this? It’s stupid, and she decides that she’s going to take her melatonin and try to sleep for as long as she can, as she’d intended to do no matter who was sitting beside her. Y/N chews the gummies thoroughly and swallows them, just as Harry is about to put the headphones over his ears.
“Just tap me if you need anything,” he offers before placing them snugly over his ears and letting his eyes flutter shut. Y/N stares at him for a little while; she’s able to without seeming like a creep. He’s got his glasses on, resting on the bridge of his nose. His hair is neatly styled like it always is, smoothed away from his face, but she thinks the headphones will muss it up a little. Y/N tries to think back if this is her first time seeing Harry dressed so casually, too – he’s usually a button-up kind of guy, but right now he has an oversized university tee on and soft linen bottoms that – with any of her other friends – Y/N would have just reached out and felt them between her fingertips. Instead, her fingers just itch to touch it where they lie on her thigh.
She turned her head forward again, then to the left so she could peer outside at the clouds that passed them with a soft sigh. She just needs to turn her brain off, probably. Vacations always make her sort of anxious, and her dynamic with Harry seemed to be a little source of anxiety for her as well. Everything she’s anxious about only exacerbates when she’s already nervous.
Y/N lets her eyes flutter shut.
She’s sure they’ll probably get closer during this trip, at least.
. . .
The plane ride wasn’t that horrible.
It was long- somewhere in hour three, she stirred from her melatonin, her legs felt cramped, and the urge to stretch them became so overwhelming that she was about to toss them over Harry’s lap. Y/N knew that with the type of person Harry is, he would have accepted it without a second thought – lifted the armrest between them and let her rest her legs there. Hell, he’d probably even start rubbing them too if she wanted. He’s always absentmindedly squeezing or feeling something, and sometimes that happens to be his friends', whoever's and whatever body part is closest to grabbing.
But she refrained. She only caught Harry looking at her once when she was wriggling, trying to lock her knees, and stretching her feet beneath the seat in front of them. When she met his gaze, she gave what she hoped was a reassuring “I’m totally good and not at all uncomfortable and moments from freaking out” kind of smile, which he returned softly – still looking concerned. A couple of minutes went by, then he showed her how to move the seat back. He didn’t speak, just carefully pointed at the lever on the side of the seat and showed her.
It did make it a little better, which was good. She didn’t love using the toilet on the plane either, but Harry went first, and when she asked him how it was in there, he told her it wasn’t so bad. “It’s more spacious than some I’ve been in the past,” he told her, so Y/N went after him. When she came back, Harry hadn’t put his headphones back in yet. Mei had reached out and squeezed Y/N’s bum from across the aisle, which made her gasp and jolt forward, and Harry all but jumped, prepared to catch her if she hadn’t caught herself on the seats.
Those were the only interesting things to happen, though; otherwise, the plane ride was just long and boring. They had coordinated their flight so that, by the time they arrived in Japan, it would be early afternoon. That way, they could land at their airport, take the train to Shimoda, and get acquainted with their Airbnb before going out to dinner. They didn’t necessarily count this in their days here, since most of it would be taken up by travel.
The airport was busy, and with immigration, customs, and security screening, it did take a bigger bite out of the day than they thought it would, but it wasn’t so bad. Y/N and Christopher made it to the other side far more quickly than anyone else. Harry, who had been beside her to start, had made his way to the back of the line so he could coach their friends on what to do. He was a good person like that, always making his own processes longer so he could benefit others. And it was then, from Christopher, that she found out Harry had actually traveled to Japan before. Though instead of staying in the countryside, he was in Tokyo for the duration of his trip. Which meant he was more familiar with this airport than any of them, even though he’d only been there once, so everyone was relying heavily on him.
The train ride was long but beautiful. Y/N stares out the window at all of the greenery – the further they get from the city, the brighter and clearer it appears. She feels like a dog, pressing her face against the glass with wide eyes, watching the trees and buildings whip past. Niall even petted the top of her head and asked if the “good girl wanted a treat,” but she batted him away. She feels excited and incredibly exhausted, and her belly is growling so intensely that she needs to eat soon or she will start getting snappy. Two hours fly by when you’re able to stretch your legs, and there’s so much scenery to look at that you’ve never seen before.
They (and by "they," she means Maeve) coordinated a ride service to pick them up in two separate cars and take them to the house. That ride was much shorter; the sun in the sky was still visible, but noticeably beginning to be painted pink and orange by evening. It smells like the nearby ocean when they step out of the train car. The sun is warm, but the breeze is cool and brushes across the sweat that has begun building on the back of her neck. Once more, somehow Harry is sitting beside her – before they’d gotten in the car, he started to reach for her suitcase to lift it into the trunk, but she grabbed it before he could. She felt bad because he’d already had to wrestle with her carry-on earlier, so she didn’t want him to do it again, trying to fit both her suitcases into the trunk with everyone else's.
Y/N felt that familiar burn of eyes on her, but when she turned around, Harry had tilted his head down, looking at his phone. Both Mei and Christopher studied Japanese at university, so one of them had to be with a group (if they split into groups) at all times to avoid looking like stupid tourists. Harry has the third most knowledge. Y/N can get by with the little she does know, certain questions she can ask, how to order food, and how to carry on at least a little bit of small talk. The driver knew English, though, so nobody necessarily got to practice their skills or anything.
The house is a good size. It isn’t massive, but it would comfortably fit all of them, even though they’d have to double up on rooms. There were three rooms: two had two people each, and one had three. They thought the best way to decide who roomed where would be to use a random generator, since all of them were close enough that the pairings didn’t really matter. Plus, it would be the fairest in choosing who had to be in the group of three, with slightly less space to work with.
Or, well, it would have been fine, but for some reason, the universe is just desperate to smash her and Harry together. So they do get a nice room for just the two of them, but that’s the issue, isn’t it? It’s just the two of them. If Y/N had been worried about the plane ride being awkward, then a week and a half of her and Harry sharing a space was probably going to be even worse. She could suggest switching too, but there’s a look on Harry’s face. . .well, she isn’t sure what it means. Y/N can’t tell if he hates it or loves it. He seemed indifferent as he heaved his duffel over his shoulder and dragged his wheeled suitcase behind him, going toward their room.
Niall slipped into the space beside her. “Do you think you two are going to cuddle?” He whispered in her ear, “Harry’s a cuddler, y’know?”
No, Y/N didn’t know because she doesn’t know Harry that well at all!
She is trying to be positive about this. Maybe this would actually encourage her and Harry to get closer? That would be nice, she thinks – there’s nothing like sleeping in the same room together during vacation to increase your bond. The first time she realized that Adam was repositioning her head in the middle of the night when she was lying weird, she was like wow, we might be best friends, so maybe something like that would happen. And she’d not felt as close to Mei as she did until they stayed the night in a hotel bed together when their flat was being fumigated (Adam and Niall were sharing the other bed across from them), when she woke up pressed back to back and was so warm and cozy she fell right back to sleep despite needing to pee.
Y/N and Harry could grow a lot from this, right? This could be really nice if it works out.
So hopefully it works out.
. . .
The first night wasn't so bad.
They go out to eat at one of the top-rated places, and they are all dressed relatively cozily for the occasion. The last thing anyone wanted to do after a full day of travel was get ready for anything. They all planned to eat, go home, shower (for the ones who hadn’t already), and get into bed. Y/N eats Kinmedai Nitsuke, which is their prized local speciality, and it’s so tender and delicious that she wonders how many things in the world are this good that she’s been geographically limited to. They do walk down to the beach to at least get a look at it, though nobody could necessarily hop in unless they wanted to soak their clothes.
White, powdery sand is what slips between her toes and coats her flip-flops. From what she could see, the water was a pretty turquoise as well – she was excited to do more than dip her toes in it tomorrow. They’d planned several full-blown beach days so they could truly soak up their time near the water. They take some silly photos, watch the sun set, and Y/N spots a crab that scurries away from her feet, then disappears into the sand – she squeals because it’s cute and also because she’s a little terrified of it.
When they go back to the Airbnb, Y/N is full, content, and ready to shower. Harry needed to as well, but he offered for her to go first. When she all but refused (because he was always putting people ahead of himself), he hurried to gather his towel, his loofah, and his soaps and shampoos. He might have taken what Y/N could only describe as the world’s quickest shower, because as soon as the water had turned on, it was on for maybe five minutes before it turned off. The door to their shared bathroom opened, and Y/N got more of an eyeful of Harry than she thinks she’s ever received before.
To be fair, she’d probably be seeing this much of him anyway tomorrow in his bathing suit. Only then would she know that there was something beyond a towel covering his prick. But right then, with him still dripping wet from the shower, he only had a towel looped around his waist, and it did very, very little to hide an incredibly impressive bulge. One that Y/N had only accidentally seen in a pair of too-tight jeans Niall had squeezed him into one night (and Y/N had to keep staring at his crotch, because he kept readjusting, and whining about how the button was digging into his bladder and wow – she had to try and ignore how cute he sounded when he was whining).
His cheeks are flushed, but so is the rest of his skin, like the water had been scalding. There was a lot of torso she was seeing too, tattoos mapped out on relatively tanned skin – she’d seen these a couple of times too. Harry definitely did not seem like the type to have tattoos, so when she had met him in the wintertime, all he ever wore was long sleeves, and she never suspected a thing. Then Spring came that year, with warmer temperatures and shorter sleeves, and she was finally exposed to Harry’s skin in all its glory. She’d seen bits and pieces but never all of them: how they decorate his skin, how they make absolutely no sense but for some reason fit him well.
“Sorry,” he apologizes, and Y/N yanks her gaze from his torso back up to his body, “I just – I rushed out of here and forgot to bring my clothes. I don’t think I used too much hot water.”
Y/N pressed herself up from where she was sitting beside her open suitcase on the floor. “And it would be okay if you did,” she told him, grabbing for her toiletries and the clothes she was changing into, “I’ll let you get dressed.”
So what if Y/N thinks about Harry’s body the entire time she’s in the shower? That’s her own business. He had a nice body – sue her! Y/N may not know much about him and may not be very close to him, but she can appreciate a nice body when she sees one. Hell, she’ll probably be oogling over all of her friends when they’re here together. It didn’t help that the little beads of water were dripping through the swell of his tits. Y/N shivered a little as she scrubbed herself down, trying not to take up too much time since Harry was in and out. This also cut off her “free-thinking-about-Harry’s-body” time, so it was probably for the best.
She washed her face, brushed her teeth, and put on her cute night set that she didn’t know she was going to be showing off to Harry first. Once she made it back into the room, Harry was sitting on his bed, and Niall and Mei were sitting on her bed across from him. He is still flushed, but this time with many more clothes – pajama bottoms and an oversized shirt. Mei cheered when she saw her, “This is so cute, what the fuck? When did you get these?”
“My Hangyodon nighties,” she grinned, the fish man with the red little octopus sidekick in the middle of his tank top and then speckled all over the pajama shorts, “You love them?”
“Do I love them? I’m going to steal them off you in your sleep!” Mei ran her fingers beneath the spaghetti straps, pulling them until they snapped. “Harry will help me sneak in, right, Harry?”
Harry shook his head with a soft laugh. “No, no,” he told her, “I’m loyal to my roomie.”
Mei grumbled, pulling Y/N into the bed, “Annoying,” she threw her leg over Y/N’s thighs while Niall pulled her head into his lap, “You’ve already bewitched him, hm? I’m cutting it off myself.”
Harry just watches, gaze pleased and soft from his side of the bed. He is leaning back on his palms, stretched out, his legs parted and. . .yeah, Y/N is looking a little, but nothing crazy.
Eventually, Niall and Mei leave, and Y/N gets up under her blankets and smells the gentle, citrus scent of the blankets. Harry’s voice is soft when he murmurs, “Goodnight, Y/N,” he tells her, “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”
She snuggles deeper into her blanket.
“Goodnight, Harry.”
. . .
On the first night of any vacation, Y/N never slept very well. She wakes up periodically throughout the night, checks her phone to see the time, realizes only an hour has passed, and then eventually lulls back to sleep. She isn’t sure why – it’s not like she wasn’t dog tired in the first place. A full day of travel always wore her down to the bone, but being in an unfamiliar space without her familiar comforts left her in a liminal state between consciousness and unconsciousness. Not to mention the time change was fucking with her too.
Y/N thinks the last time she looked at the clock was 4 AM at least, and then the next time she woke up, it was to Harry stretching, standing on the side of his bed. Sun poured in through the blinds, cutting through the curtains and filling up the room. She grumbled a little; the sound of her feet moving against the mattress pulled Harry’s attention over to her. His eyes are all sleep-swollen and soft – he smiled at her, then made his way to the bathroom. He was kind of cute when he woke up, but whatever. Y/N doesn’t care about that. She pressed her face into the pillow and huffed – the sun still looked like it might just barely be 7 in the morning. Of course she’d get paired with an early riser.
She flopped around in bed for a while, at least an additional 30 minutes to an hour, before she finally answered the call of her bladder and went to pee. The dire need to pee plus the pressing urge to see where the hell Harry had disappeared for 30 minutes after waking up is what drags her from the call of sleep. What could he possibly be busy with? And why would she care what he was doing? Her stupid brain just needed something to focus on, she thinks, when there were too many unfamiliar things and too many unfamiliar surroundings. But really, she should be fixating on their beautiful surroundings, the soft, flower-bloom scent that over takes the entire neighborhood they’re in, and the sea salt wind of the ocean nearby.
Y/N peed, then tiptoed out of the room. When she checked her phone, it was 7:05 AM, and she knew all too well that if Maeve and Adam didn’t get to sleep in, they would have two (surprisingly) very crabby adults on their hands. More crabby than Niall or Mei combined, because at least when they’re tired they get a little loopy and silly – Maeve is a bit scary, and Adam is just downright pouty the whole day. Paired with this, both of them are incredibly light sleepers, so something like a creaky floorboard could draw them from slumber in an instant.
Y/N found Harry in the kitchen, quietly making breakfast. When he spotted her, he was just about to flip the eggs. With the pan in one hand and the spatula in the other, he pointed at the table where there was a pile of French toast and fruit sliced already. One plate had already been made up. He works efficiently – how had he done all of this in 30 minutes? “I cut the crusts off that one already,” he told her, voice just barely above a whisper, “They’re still on the plate in case you want them, though.”
“You didn’t have to do that for me.” Her eyes were wide; she could feel them. How had he known she didn’t like the crusts on bread? Also, where the hell did he get groceries from? “How’d you get put on breakfast duty?”
“Oh, I didn’t,” he shook his head, “I just like to cook. Reckon if we are going to be out in the sun all day, we should have something in our bellies.” He nodded his head in the direction of the other rooms. “Niall and Mei came into my room last night to ask what I wanted from the grocery because they were having it delivered. I think they meant to ask you too, but got distracted by your pajamas.”
That made sense. She’d been wondering why they were in her room, but once she was accosted about her pajamas, she’d forgotten to ask.
Y/N made her way to the kitchen table, “Thank you, Harry.”
“No problem,” he told her, “I hope you enjoy it.”
When Y/N took the first bite, she held back a gasp. It was really good – she didn’t know how much of that was because Harry was adept in the kitchen and how much was because of the geographical ingredients. Either way, it was sweet and syrupy without Y/N needing to add any syrup onto her plate. The powder from the sugar covers her lips – she can feel it, tacky and sweet. Her eyelids flutter a couple of times, blinking rapidly before a presence suddenly looms over her.
Harry is there, sliding two eggs onto her plate. They’re over medium- another weird fact to know about how she liked her food. He looks absolutely chuffed watching her eat, his glasses slipping to the tip of his nose, “It’s good?”
“It’s great,” she tells him, nodding, “Thank you, really, this is – really yummy.”
The twinkles in Harry’s eyes are something different. Before the moment could linger any longer, Chris appeared at the doorframe with Mei in tow. “Oh, thank fuck,” he sighed softly, “I woke up like an hour ago, starving to death – I ate like ten of those jelly candies I got from the airport.”
“Loveeee Harry’s cooking,” Mei hums, eyes barely open, “Y/N, I’m sitting next to you. Someone get me scissors so I can cut this tank off her.”
Everyone wakes up pretty soon after that, because while Y/N and Harry are willing to tiptoe around, Mei and Christopher go by the beat of their own drum. And that drum wakes up the whole house when Christopher drops an egg on the floor and all but cries out, wondering what he did to deserve this from the universe. They all finish eating, brush their teeth, and get ready for the beach. They pack up all of their towels and sunscreen, Y/N fits a hat over her head, and she packs a portable fan for when Maeve inevitably starts sweating on the beach, but refuses to get in the water (she likes to swim for about 30 minutes at a time, with 1-hour intervals in between because she doesn’t like how the salt water feels on her skin and how pruny she gets). She also blows up a floaty with every last bit of air in her lungs, which will undoubtedly get stolen by Niall about ten minutes in.
By the time they get down to the beach, the sun is a little higher, but not too hot. The water glimmers and glistens beneath the rays; the water is crystalline blue and turquoise. Apparently, almost everyone had lathered up on sunscreen before they left the house, but Y/N had been distracted packing her day bag, so she waited too late. When she’d finally laid out her towel and peeled off her cover-up, though, there was nobody available to help her get her back.
Well, nobody except for –
“I can get your back for you?” Harry’s voice is soft, as gentle as he can be, holding out his hand for the bottle she is holding.
Y/N’s eyes darted to where everyone else was already splashing around in the water, excited, dropping down to their chins. She looked back to Harry, nodding softly – she felt bad, keeping him out of the water to help her. Harry probably would’ve already been in there had he not seen her looking around hopelessly.
“Yeah, that’d be nice, thank you. I’m sorry.”
He took the sunscreen, popping the cap. “Ah, what are you apologizing for?” Y/N turned away from her, hearing the spurt of the sunscreen into his hand, “I’ll need some help too, if that’s okay?”
It’s cold when his hands touch her – Y/N jumps, hissing from the temperature and Harry. . .well, it sounds like he almost coos, “It’s a bit cold,” he warns her late, “Sorry, I should’ve told you.”
His hands are careful as they massage the sunscreen into her shoulders, between them, and down her spine. They feel huge against her, over her, the back side of her sides and hips. When he rubs over the back of her neck, Y/N swallows thickly – it’s a little hard not to have a little pervy thought float through her. Because if he wanted to, he could probably press her forward and grab her hips, follow her down to the ground, and –
“Okay! All done,” she can hear the smile in his voice, and she instantly feels like a lecher. What the hell was she doing having a thought like that? “Would you get me?”
It’s no better, rubbing the sunscreen into his shoulders. Harry is so broad – he never wears clothes that show it off much, but Y/N had seen him in a workout tank top once and almost gasped. His shoulders are big; his back is sculpted – it’s the sort of thing you might see on an inspo page for working out. It leads into the shape of his biceps and triceps, and maybe it’s for the best that she isn’t that close to Harry? Because clearly, she’d been around him for like a day and a half and she can’t have a normal thought to save her fucking life.
Beneath her fingers, his skin is warm and soft. She doesn’t even realize that the sunscreen is gone until she’s been rubbing it on him for like two minutes.
“Ah, I used too much,” she lied through her teeth, patting his shoulders gently, “There you go, all done.”
She kicked off her shoes and all but stumbled over the little hills of white sand while she ran to the water because she couldn’t look at his face right now. Harry would probably be able to take one peek at her face and read that she’d been thinking something less than. . .morally pure. So she runs right over to the water, only slowing when she gets to the edge of the water, the waves pulling back, then sloshing over her ankles. Niall had already stolen the floatie, so he found it and flopped over, hooking her arm over the edge of the sparkly inflatable. She splashed Niall a bit, and he let out a silent scream, “Dick, you dick!”
“You were feeling Harry up a little bit.” Adam appeared behind her, reaching for her hand that was in the water and pulling it out, flipping it over so she was palm up. He places a big shell in her hand: “Hide this from MeiMei; she’s after it.”
“I was not feeling him up.” She grumbled.
Adam raised his eyebrows, “I mean, baby, I’ve got 20/20 vision and –”
“Mei! Look at this pretty shell!” Y/N hollers, and Adam gasps, grabbing the shell back from her and floating deeper in.
“Oh, evil, you’re evil!”
It was pretty, the water was cool on their skin, and the sun was warm but not oppressive today. Y/N had been prepared for intense humidity, but it wasn’t horrible. They swim for hours, get out to look for shells, take more photos, dig in the sand, and make a sad excuse for a sand castle. Y/N’s lips taste salty from the water, and her fingers are all pruned when they make their way to the beachside treat shack (it’s called Umi-no-le, Harry tells them). She eats a skewer and fries, then plucks off Adam’s edamame in exchange for letting him try some of the seafood off her stick.
Harry disappeared but returned with ice cream, somehow carrying four, keeping one between his index and middle finger and the other between his ring finger and pinky. Somehow, the cones are perfectly balanced because she thinks he could probably palm a basketball, squeeze it, and pop it in a single hand. She didn’t know he was going for ice cream – she probably would have ordered one too, but she didn’t know he was going for it. And maybe she would demand some of Niall’s, but he got Matcha, and she wanted to try the red bean. Actually, all of them had Matcha. . except for Harry.
Stupidly, she mentioned this to Christopher, who had offered her a lick of his cone. “Oh, Harry got red bean.” He turned to find him, “Harry! Can Y/N have a lick of your ice cream?”
Y/N blinked wide, “Oh, I don’t –”
“Yeah.” The cone was presented in front of her mouth almost immediately. Harry hadn’t licked it yet, it seems, and Y/N thinks it’s not fair that she gets the first lick, but when she opens her mouth, Harry says gently, “Go on, it’s okay. You can tell me if it's good.”
So Y/N does lick the cone, dragging her tongue over it slowly and trying not to focus on how Harry watches her. It’s delicious – she’d like to get another taste, sure, but she already feels bad. She’d prided herself on never needing to ask Harry for anything, and yet this entire day she’s had to bother him nonstop- it’s felt like. Even though she didn’t ask him for breakfast. She just wants him to be able to enjoy his vacation too, without having to worry about anyone but himself, yet it’s the first day, and it feels like she is using him 3 separate times.
“Thank you.” She nodded at him, “It’s really good, Harry; you’ll like it.”
He grinned, then licked it himself. He paid no mind to the fact that she had already licked the cone – Harry’s always been quite used to sharing, though. Which has always surprised her. From what she does know of Harry, he only has one sibling, and he’s the youngest, so he should probably be the worst at sharing.
Should she try to do things for him? What could she even do for Harry? The only thing she could think to do was what she had been doing: to be self-sufficient enough that he didn’t need to worry about her. Encourage him to take longer showers – maybe she should take hers first so that he won’t worry about taking the hot water. That’s like. . .all she’s got. She could offer to do things for him, but she knew he would refuse – she’d just have to do it. She could try tonight to put food on his plate or something – Y/N thinks they’re planning on going to a Yakiniku place tonight. Y/N could grill him some meat? Y/N doesn’t know. She just hates feeling like she owes someone something, even if she knows Harry wasn’t expecting anything from the help he gave.
“Do you want one?” Harry asks, waving the ice cream in his hands, “I can go get it?”
Y/N shakes her head, “No, no, I’m okay; I’ll go get it later.”
Harry pouts his lips a little, but continues to eat his ice cream.
. . .
It’s the third official day of them being there (not including the travel day) that Harry surprises her. Or – shocks her, rather.
Their mandatory Anime-level beach episode went swimmingly. They stayed out all day, alternating between playing in the water and playing on the beach. Y/N had fallen asleep briefly on the sand and woke up to an umbrella being opened above her, shoved into the ground. Through bleary eyes, she could make out that Niall was the one doing it, but it was nowhere near a selfless act, because he dropped down on the towel, pulled right beside her, and immediately closed his eyes.
(“Should we cuddle?”
“Too hot, Ni.”
“Ugh, you’re right, you’re right. Imagine me cuddling you right now though.”)
They eventually made their way back to the Airbnb around 3 PM, for those who didn’t take a nap on the beach to nap if they wanted to, to decompress, or to shower off the ocean before dinner. Y/N was sun-tired even after her nap, but she flopped down on the bottom of her bed, face pressed into the covers, the fan above her whipping a cool breeze around the room. Harry moved quietly around the room, but he didn’t stay in there for long.
When they went out to eat that night, Y/N did just as she said she would and did most of the grilling. By no means is she enjoying herself, and after a couple of times of her friends demanding which pieces to grill, she does threaten them to stuff it and take what she gives them before she grills them on the tabletop. Whenever Harry tried to take over grilling, she snapped the tongs in his direction and told him to eat. He only tried twice before getting the hint that she wasn’t going to let him.
That night, she showered first, as quickly as she could, before popping out of the bathroom, out of breath and slightly panting. “The water is still hot,” she told him. Harry seemed startled, like he hadn’t expected her to come out so quickly. So he gathered his things, went into the bathroom, and then showered. It wasn’t as long as she thought it should have been, but it was still longer than the one the night prior. When Y/N was about to fall asleep, Harry offered her a bottle of water, and Y/N shot up to go grab it before he could. She got one for both of them, set it at his bedside, then crawled back into bed.
The next day, they did some local shopping, trying street foods and spending money happily. Y/N doesn’t see much of Harry on this day, but she can feel him staring multiple times throughout the shopping trip. Though any time she turned to follow the feeling, his gaze had been pulled elsewhere. Honestly, she doesn’t even know if it was Harry who was staring at her, but that’s the only person she could think of who would be. Part of her almost inquired about it in a jewelry store, but Maeve distracted her with a beautiful jeweled hairpin.
They went back to the beach at sunset after eating, watching the pink and orangey hues that mottle the sky, and walking off their meals. That night, Y/N rushed to take her shower first again, keeping it brisk and forcing Harry in there sooner than he anticipated. Then she lied to him, told him she was doing some yoga and liked to do it without interruption, so she would stay in the shower a little longer than he normally would.
But it’s not until the third day that something truly shifts in the air between them. The morning was normal enough – everyone made their own breakfast because Harry and Christopher woke up early to work out, taking a run on the beach during sunrise. But he still slices fruit for everyone (he’s the only one who knows how to cut a pineapple appropriately). They have a little bit of a free day, because they planned to go on Perry Road that night, whose streets are willow-lined and beautiful. There were cozy bars and izakayas that they were all eager to discover.
Y/N, Niall, and Maeve lingered around the house, and Adam and Mei went on a trail to see if it was worth it, dragging the others out to it on a different day. Harry and Christopher. . .well, actually, Y/N didn’t know what they were doing. They went on their morning run together, and she thinks they went back to the shops today for whatever reason. Maybe there was something they wanted that they didn’t get yesterday or something. She didn’t know. All she knew was that she, Niall, and Maeve were watching a Japanese drama and wavering in and out of sleep for a lazy little day.
Later that night, Y/N experiences Perry Road in all of its willow-covered, canal glory. She loved the sound of their feet meeting the cobblestone and the water sloshing from rocks thrown. It’s gorgeous, and they go to a tavern and eat and drink to their heart’s content. Y/N is seated beside Maeve, across from Harry, but it isn’t like she’s only left to speak to them. Everyone is chatting about everything – plans for tomorrow, Adam’s situationship, the crab that chased after Mei and how she almost got Y/N pinched when she jumped on her back to get further from it.
“You’re much stronger than I realized,” Harry had noted as they reminisced on the event from yesterday, like it was from years ago, “You barely even stumbled when she jumped on you.”
“Yeah, isn’t it unsettling?” Adam inquired, “I thought I could beat her in a wrestling match, and she straddled and apprehended me in like fifteen seconds flat; it was outrageous.” He motioned toward her, “She hides her strength in her cute demeanor.”
Harry’s cheeks are pink, and Y/N doesn’t know why he’d be getting flushed thinking about it. It’s probably from the alcohol to some degree, Y/N thinks, but it was just so sudden. And like, it’s making her face feel hot too. Was he thinking about her apprehending Adam? Or maybe he’s imagining himself in Adam’s place?
Y/N doesn’t know. She wipes her brain clean of it. When Harry was pouring sake into everyone’s shot glasses, he would have had to reach over the table to fill up hers, so she took the bottle from him to fill up her own. And when he was offering everyone a taste of his karaage, Y/N told him that it was alright (before quietly ordering her own side of it – Harry noticed, definitely, but she avoided eye contact. And she wasn’t trying to be a dick either; it’s just there was barely any left after everyone else tried, and Harry clearly liked it – she wanted him to finish it off). But it was when Y/N had stretched across the table for the salt that Harry definitely could have handed her, but he was mid-bite of his burger – that Harry got upset.
She didn’t think about how it looked until he mumbled, “I could’ve handed you the salt.”
In their time here, Y/N has jumped through hoops so that Harry hasn’t had to do anything for her, and not once has he questioned her about it or commented on it. Y/N didn’t know if she’d finally just pushed him too far or if the sake was getting to him. Maybe both? Y/N isn’t sure. All she knows is that she isn’t expecting him to bring it up at the end of the night. After they finish walking up and down the streets, taking pictures, visiting the beautiful shrine (or as much as they could see with the sun having gone down), they make their way back to the Airbnb.
Y/N is about to grab her things and rush to shower before they all watch a horror movie in the living room when Harry appears in their shared room.
“Can I talk to you for a second?”
She pauses, arms full of her clothes and her towel, and looking at him with eyebrows raised and gaze widened. “Oh? Yeah, sure!” She nods, but her heart is sort of hammering. The face he’s making is not typical of his gentle features; it’s hardened, and he looks upset. . .almost irritated, actually. Harry had never looked at her like that before, and she finds that she really doesn’t like it. She’d actually prefer if he never looked at her like that again. “What’s wrong?”
There’s alcohol swimming in his gaze – he might have had more sake than she originally thought – and she could tell that his cheeks were flushed from his drinks now, since they had been for most of the night at this point. He doesn’t wobble where he stands, but his eyes are just glassy enough for her to see the pink bottle they’d been pouring from for most of the night. His lips were wet too; glossy and pouted from the spirits and the number of times he’s run his tongue over his mouth.
“You never let me do things for you,” he said with no preamble, hands clenched in each other, his thumb running over his knuckles – a nervous habit, despite him not looking or sounding it, “Every time I try to do something for you, you do it yourself. Anytime I offer, you brush me off. You make things more inconvenient for you just so that you can tell me not to. Why? Why do you do that?” His brows furrowed, “At first I just thought you were super independent, but. . .but I noticed things, y’know? You let the others pamper you – you practically begged Niall to grab the remote for you, but when I tried, you immediately scrambled up. You’ll eat off Mei’s plate, but rather order a whole side of something than try mine. You – you like, completely shut me out! Not just here, at home too,” he seemed flustered, frowning, “When we get drinks, you always order your own even if it’s my round to pay. Whenever I offer to pick you up from the store, you go out and get it yourself or go without. Hell, even little things – you know this is the 10th time you’ve reached across a table to grab something instead of just asking me to hand it to you?” Was he counting? “What did I do? Do you – is it something about me? Do you not like me? Do you think I’m gross, or – or –”
“Harry, no, that’s not it at all!” Y/N feels a bead of panic dribble through her. This was actually the opposite of what she was trying to do! She wanted him to feel unburdened by her, not like she was intentionally avoiding him or thought he was gross. She feels miserable that this is what he’s been thinking the whole time. “You – you do so much for everyone else, Harry; I feel like you rarely worry about yourself. I just didn’t want to. . .I didn’t want to be a burden or anything, was all. You’re – I never want to be one,” and maybe she was a little drunker than she thought, too. Her brain is swimming, creating a direct channel from her reasoning to her mouth with little regard for how much she wanted to admit, “Harry, like, you’re always doing stuff for people. You’re listening to their problems, you’re contacting services for them, you’re helping them submit paperwork, and all of that. I just don’t want you to have to like. . .have your brain on when it comes to me. You should just be able to relax sometimes.”
He seems no happier with that explanation than he seemed with her being disgusted by him. Still, he frowns, and it pulls his whole face down so sadly that Y/N feels like the worst person ever.
“But I like that,” he stresses, “I want that. I like when people. . .when people need me, and when I can help. It makes me feel good. I never feel put out or put off or like. . .or like anything bad from it; I just feel good.” He sounds close to whining, honestly, and it makes something twist in her lower belly, “When you let me help with your sunscreen and. . .and when you tried my ice cream, I – I was so happy.” He sighs, pressing the hair away from his face, “Please, it’s okay to let me do things. Please let me. I want to make you feel good too.”
Y/N is just. . .she’s dumbfounded, really. She wasn’t expecting such a reaction from him – not intense, nor this honest. Guilt sits like a heavy lump in her stomach, surrounded by all the sake, and she thinks that she has misread this situation entirely. Harry was definitely an acts-of-service kind of guy, as far as showing love goes, and she’d been curbing his every attempt. He probably thought she didn’t want to be friends at all. No wonder they had such a hard time getting closer.
Because it wasn’t like she didn’t know that he liked to do things for people. She did know that – she could tell by the soft, pleased smiles he always had when someone came to him for something. Y/N guesses she just really hadn’t noticed how much it was upsetting him so badly that she wasn’t allowing him to do anything at all.
“Harry, I’m so sorry,” her shoulders sink, lips pouting to match his, “I really – I just wanted you to have to worry about one less person, is all, but I. . .I definitely over did it, if you think that I don’t like you,” she shakes her head, rattles her brain, “I – seriously, I didn’t know it was upsetting you so much. It started with me just trying not to bother you with, like. . .my problems and stuff, but somehow it amassed into me not letting you do anything for me at all. That’s my fault.”
He sighs softly, “I just want to be helpful to you too,” he explains, then opens his arms, and Y/N doesn’t hesitate to step forward into his embrace. She’d always heard that Harry gives really, really good hugs, but she’d never gotten to experience one for herself. He smells good, even though it was the end of the night and they’d been doing things all day. There’s the barest hint of the smoky smell from the tavern they’d been at, but beyond that, she could smell his fabric softener and cologne. Harry always chose light, airy scents that were gentle and soft. Being near him always sort of smelled like being near a fresh pile of laundry. His arms were big too, wrapped around her, and in them she felt sort of safe and warm. As she tucks herself against him, he rests his cheek against her head, and he rubs his palm up and down her back soothingly. It feels good – really, really good. She can’t believe she’d been self-denying of such comfort without even realizing it. “You’re really fun, Y/N, and you’re amazing. I want to be closer friends, but. . .but doing things for people and helping them out are how I get close. You’re not. . .doing anything wrong at all. I just wanted to make sure that you didn’t hate me.”
“I don’t hate you at all.” Her words are a little muffled against his chest, and she’s almost hyperaware of how bulky it feels against her face, “It’d be impossible to hate you, really. I just. . .I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think this through as well as I thought I did.” She sighed, “But you have to let me do things for you too, okay? I’ll – like, not all the time- but I don’t want this to be a friendship where you give, give, give, and I take, take, take. You shouldn’t let people take advantage of you like that.”
He’s still rubbing her back, slow and soft, “I know, I will, we can. It’ll be good. I’m excited.”
That night, Y/N felt clean and dry after her shower, comfortable in her pajamas and snuggled up in a blanket on the couch while they watched Ringu. She’s not drunk, but she’s in that pleasant, hazy state where she’s still a little buzzed and she thinks the same goes for Harry. Mei lies between Y/N’s legs, her head resting on the inside of Y/N’s split thighs. Harry is to Y/N’s left, also in his pajamas, and one arm is thrown over the back of the couch while he leans into his corner. There’s a pillow between his hip and Y/N’s head, but she’s still tucked there, close enough that she can smell him, and close enough that Niall saw, wraggled his eyebrows, then promptly burrowed into Christopher’s side.
Typically, there is a rule that Y/N is not allowed to lie down during movies because she promptly falls asleep without fail. Adam, Mei, and Niall had started a “sleep-count” each week: how many times they’d put something on the telly and how many times Y/N would doze off during it. This extended into the rest of their friend group, and Y/N would get pillows thrown at her, or tickled, sometimes lowkey heckled until she pouted and woke up. Apparently, Mei was too drunk to really care tonight, and everyone else might have just been startled or confused by the sudden closeness of her and Harry. She can’t think of the last time she sat next to Harry when they watched a movie, let alone lay against him.
Long story short, she definitely falls asleep. She stirs once when Harry gasps at something that happens on the screen, but her eyelids feel too heavy to keep open, even when she peeks them open to see something terrifying. Mei’s head is so heavy on her thigh that she knows for sure she was knocked out. The warmth from either side, plus the scent of Harry’s clothes, is what ultimately put her back to sleep.
The next time she woke up, she was in bed. Y/N is unsure how she got there, but she had a sneaking suspicion it was the snoring lump in the other bed. Through her bleary eyes, she can see how he’s all rumpled, legs kicked out from the blankets, twisted around his body. Y/N doesn’t think she ever gets to see Harry asleep because he’s usually awake by the time she gets up. His mouth is hanging open, and his hair is a mess on his head. He looks cute – Y/N wishes she could press her face into his back and breathe in deeply. Or wiggle up under his bicep, see if he warps his body around to cuddle her.
She fell back asleep, smiling a little. That’d be nice.
. . .
Y/N thought she and Harry were due for only one breakthrough this trip.
It was good – not having this weird amount of negative tension between them. Harry didn’t start pouring his heart and soul into doing things for her, but he did pour milk for her cereal one morning, and he helped her with her sunscreen later that day. She even let him buy her an ice cream without being weird about it. In the same breath, Harry lets her do things for him too – there isn’t much, because he’s very self-sufficient and does everything before anyone could think to do it for him. But she tries her best! Sunscreens him right back, splits a sandwich with him when she caught him staring at it, and she even takes his side when he told them what music he listens to when he’s working out (she didn’t agree at all – Norah Jones is for cozy coffee mornings and gardening in Spring, not for lifting 200kg with your legs, and running with a 12% incline on a treadmill – but she defends him intensely). When they did go for barbecue, Y/N grilled him meat and piled his plate high with it. She even hoarded some of the cucumbers because she remembered they were his favorite from the first place they went to like this.
He still stares at her a borderline weird amount, but that’s never really bothered her. And she doesn’t mind how he swallows thickly when he watches her eat a popsicle, or lick whipped cream off her hand, or when Niall swats her bum in passing, and she gasps. Harry’s cute, and he’s sweet, and it’s fun to see a cute, sweet guy like him flustered about things like that. Especially with how pink he gets, how he fumbles over his words, and stumbles when he walks. She’d been trying to catch a peek of him adjusting or anything, but of course, he’s much too mindful to do something like that too obviously.
It’s the night before their Tokyo day that Y/N finds they will have two breakthroughs on this trip.
The day starts relatively normally; they wake up, they eat, they get ready, but nobody does makeup or anything because they planned to spend the morning at the beach, then the afternoon in the hot springs, and there was a bar nearby where they would get drinks. It was pretty close to where they were staying – a lot of things were within walking distance for them, which was really nice. They are at the beach early enough that the critters are out – birds are flying low, fish are closer to the shore than they are when it’s a little busier, Y/N and Mei hunt for shells while Adam and Harry swim. The others took their time getting down there, but when they show up, it’s a little less calm, and Y/N does get accidentally tackled into the water by a very rowdy Maeve. When Y/N popped back up with a gasp, Maeve apologized profusely. Harry appeared from where he’d been closer to the buoys, right at her side, all wet, with his hair slicked down the side of his head.
“Are you alright?” His brows were furrowed, and his head was tilted. He’s close enough that she can feel the warmth of his body beneath the water.
Y/N nodded, waving them off, “I’m okay, I’m okay.” She wiped the water from her eyes. “At least the water isn’t freezing.”
“You’re playing favorites!” Niall accused her, “I accidentally splashed you yesterday, and you almost drowned me.”
“That’s because Maeve is a precious angel and you are a little creature from the lagoon.”
“What? Lagoon!”
After the beach, they rinse the ocean water off and then head to the onsens. It was nice because the wind had picked up, so it was a little chillier than it had been before, the sun hiding behind the clouds. Sinking into the warm water was like a nice, hot bath. The heat soaked into her muscles, warmed her inside out, but the issue was that it was actually almost boiling. They rented a private one, so they spent most of the time cycling in and out of the heat. Y/N could tolerate about 15 minutes before she had to get out; then she’d cool down, then she’d stick her feet in. They had a cooling room, so after they were all done sweating half their body weight in water, they took some time to settle the temperature in their bodies.
They had showers on site, so they could rinse off once again (“We are going to be giant prunes by the end of the day,” Christopher whined), and they brought clothes to change into. Niall and Adam lost rock, paper, scissors, so they had to take everyone's wet clothes and towels home and meet them at the beachside bar. It was one they hadn’t been to yet, with a wider drink selection and a little bit more traffic than the others. There was a younger crowd, so it was far more rambunctious, and the music was louder.
Y/N felt Harry’s eyes on her all of the time, but she especially felt them on her tonight. And especially when someone at the bar took an interest in her.
The thing is, Y/N rarely gets hit on in public. Y/N used to question it and be bummed out, but then she realized the one thing that pissed her off more than anything was a drunk prick, breathing his vodka breath on her face, trying to get her to blow him in the bathroom. And then, when her frontal lobe developed, she realized that dating a stranger that she met in the bar, drunk, was probably not the best thing in the world for her. So she tried to find the bright side in it, rather than mope about how people weren’t showing interest in her and feeling ugly; she reveled in the fact that she didn’t have to worry about anyone annoying her.
All that being said, rarely doesn’t mean never. Tonight, two people had approached her — one who almost immediately suggested that they go somewhere to fuck, so she squashed it immediately. The other one was a little sweeter, gentler; he sort of reminded her of Harry now that she thinks about it. His name is Yuuki, but he tells her to call him Yuu. He ambled up to her when she was getting a drink with Mei and was normal enough that she hadn’t shipped him off immediately. How the bar was set up was that most of it was outside, and the “inside” was more like verandas with lights strung up around them. They had a table that they were all kind of staking their claim on, and Yuu followed Y/N and Mei back to it.
Truthfully, Y/N thought he was interested in Mei when he first walked up, but Mei is the sort of pretty that a lot of guys are scared of, so they chat up her friend in hopes they’ll be a wingman. That was the sort of situation Y/N thought she was about to experience. But when they got back to the table and they were all speaking, Yuu made it clear pretty quickly that his intentions were with her. Y/N didn’t realize it until he complimented how she looked tonight, and when she brushed it off, he doubled down.
“I mean it,” he assured her, “Like, you guys have been outside sweating all day, and you still look this beautiful? Isn’t that kind of unfair?”
Y/N’s eyes went wide. “Oh, wow,” she chuckled a little, “You’re forward, huh?”
“I try to be, if it’s someone I want.”
There’s a tingle on the nape of her neck, burning, hot. She tried to subtly turn to look, and she locked gazes with Harry, who. . .who is always looking at her. And he looks. . .well, she’s trying to decide how he looks. Upset? No, not really. Not angry either? But he does look put off. Not to the extent that he did when he confronted her, but still, he clearly wasn’t smiling as widely as he had been throughout most of the day.
Y/N could do a couple of things. She could politely decline Yuu because she really wasn’t planning on pursuing this beyond some friendly flirting. Or. . .she could see how Harry would react if she did actually pursue something. Now that Y/N thinks about it, she doesn’t think she’s ever pursued someone in front of Harry before, so she really doesn’t know how he would react. She isn’t sure why she cares how he would react, but it’s something that has suddenly piqued her interest. Does he like her? Niall at least thinks that he thinks she’s pretty and that’s why he’s always looking at her. But she thinks she’s. . .at least a little tipsy. Not really, but that’s what she’ll blame it on if someone asks her.
She just wants to know! It’s like. . .he and Adam do this all the time, right? The scientific method? She’s just testing something right now, creating a hypothesis and testing it immediately. It would be interesting to see his reaction, right? He’ll probably not care anyway, and Y/N would have strung this guy along for a whole lot of nothing. But it’s fun to flirt sometimes. And it’s fun to see how someone like Harry might react if he’s jealous. Heavy on the if, considering Harry might not even like her at all, so she was just wasting everyone’s time.
But that version of Harry she saw the other night, who asked to speak with her directly, who told her exactly what was on his mind, and confidently let her know what he wanted? That was nice to see! She just wondered what other ways she could make him speak his mind.
Still, Yuu is cute and not annoying, and he’s sweet with all the things he’s saying and calling her. It turns out that he isn’t a local, but his family summers here a lot, so he knows a lot of interesting facts and random shit about the development of the island. He also tells her that they need to check out the Shimoda Ropeway, a cable car that takes you on a ride up the Nesugata Mountain, and doesn’t insert himself into the plans like he’s trying to make a date out of it.
Y/N giggles more than she might normally, and she stands close to him. She touches him a little more liberally than she would typically, squeezing his arm when he mentions working out, pulling a fuzz off his top, leaning in close to see the pendant on his necklace. The burn of eyes on her stays the entire time, and whenever she looks up, Harry’s frowning a little, turned away like he doesn’t want to see it but can’t help but stare. Yuu goes to get them another drink, and Niall saddles up next to her, clicking his tongue and murmuring low in her ear.
“He looks like he either wants to cry or devour you,” he tells her, “Maybe both?”
Y/N’s heart starts to race. Is he really looking that way, or is Niall just being delusional? She doesn’t get an answer because Niall disappears just as soon as he’d come to her side, swayed by the call of Adam, clearly getting into an argument on the phone with a drink in his hand. Y/N briefly makes eye contact with Harry before Yuu returns soon after. She couldn’t read him, not at all.
It wasn’t until Yuu leaned in and whispered something in her ear that she heard something fall. Just a soft thud and a little gasp, and Y/N’s eyes followed the commotion, where Harry had dropped his drink in the sand. A little had splashed on his trousers, but nothing seemed broken or dangerous. She wants to get up – to tease him a little, and see if he’d smile about it – but she isn’t rude, and Yuu is mid-conversation with her still, even if it was guided in a more flirty direction.
And she’s able to give Yuu her attention for four more minutes before her gaze tries to find Harry again, only this time, he isn’t sitting where he had been most of the night. They were all scattered around, using the table as a sort of base point, but Harry had been sort of resting against the corner edge of the bar with his drink since Yuu came up to speak to her. He was still close enough that he could be a part of the conversation with Maeve and Christopher, but far enough that he was able to fade into the background if he wanted. Harry was good at finding spots like that when he needed them.
But he wasn’t there. Like a prairie dog, her head perks up, and she looks from left to right, searching for him, but she can’t seem to find him. Something is unsettled in her chest, a small pout forming on her mouth.
“Sorry,” she cut Yuu off, patting his thigh as she stood up, “My friend disappeared on me; I’m g’na go find them.”
“Take your time,” he waved to her politely, “While you do that, I’m going to catch up with my friends and make sure none of them are face down in the sand right now.”
Y/N hunts down Adam, who is frowning at his phone and texting what seems to be a multiple-paragraph-long text with random caps lock moments and exclamation points: “Hey, did you see where Harry ran off?”
Adam looks up at her, his frown soothing when he realizes it’s Y/N speaking to him, “Hm? He said he needed some air or something and went out toward the beach.” Adam made a vague motion with his hand. “Which is silly because we are already outside, but who knows. Would you go check on him? He sounded kind of sad.”
For a second time, guilt warps something ugly and inky in her chest. He sounded sad? That was not what she wanted at all! She – Y/N doesn’t know what she wanted exactly. She kind of wanted him to be – not angry, but irritated, maybe? The same sort of irritation he’d felt when she wasn’t letting him help her out, when he was blunt and to the point with his feelings, if he was feeling anything at all about the situation. Y/N thought maybe she’d get to see another side of Harry that she might not have been privy to. One that’s a little jealous. One that might like. . .do something, if he wanted to, with her.
But instead, she thinks she made him sad. Y/N all but stumbles further onto the beach, away from the bar. Thankfully, he must have just left because she finds him relatively close by, heading off horizontally to the ocean, in the direction of the Airbnb. His head is tilted down, hands in his pockets.
“Hey!” Y/N called out to him, starting forward, “Harry!”
He pauses, so she knows he heard her, but he doesn’t stop. Actually, he sped up a little even, and removed his hands from his pockets, reaching them toward his face as if he might be wiping away tears, and Y/N reached down to take her shoes off so she could move quicker. The little hills and valleys of sand are making her stumble pretty badly, and she almost falls flat on her face a couple of times from how soft it is, her feet sinking in, the little grains sticking between her toes. Her dress billows from the way the wind is whipping, and she almost gets tripped up a couple of times on that, too.
But she makes it to him with no injuries and reaches forward, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him back, “Hey, I called for you –” she starts to scold him until she sees his face.
His eyes are watery, rimmed red, with flushed cheeks and little stained tracks from what could only be tears. Y/N’s eyes go impossibly wide, mouth falling open, “Harry –”
He tilts his face away. “Don’t look at me for a second,” he fusses, hiding behind his hands, “I’m – I’m – don’t –” he’s flustered, she can tell, and beyond the ache she feels for making him sad, there’s a twitch somewhere else too. Somewhere deep and warm and confusing. Y/N is unaware of this bodily reaction to someone crying because she’s never experienced it before. She tries to stuff it down, though, for a second, in favor of focusing on the moment.
Because Harry looks so sad, with a pouted mouth, and a puffy face. Y/N doesn’t know if he’s drunk or not, but when she reaches up to gently touch his face, the skin is warm. “What’s this, hm? Why are you crying?” He goes easily with how she tilts him all around, this way and that, his chin up, down, side, side, like she’s searching for a notable sign of distress, like a scrape or a scratch. She had a feeling that she might know, but that would be kind of crazy, right? If it was what she was thinking, then she was a huge dickhead. He was even more softhearted than she thought he was.
“N-nothing,” he tells her, “There’s sand in my eye.”
He looks unfairly pretty like this, Y/N notes while she’s looking at him. Tear drops cling to his eyelashes, and the color of them is intense, even through the lens of his glasses. His lips are slick and wet, and he sniffles every so often, looking at her with the most pitiful gaze she’s ever seen. Y/N feels horrible and weirdly horny, and she wants to wrap him in bubble wrap and swallow him whole.
“Sand, hm?” She repeats, and he nods, “Nothing else?”
Harry’s quiet, and Y/N sighs a little, her hand falling from his face. What was she doing? This was stupid. . .she should just tell him straight out that she wanted to see how he reacted if she was flirting with someone else, for some reason. It just felt like. . .like she just wanted to know, okay? You can only see someone as hot and pretty as Harry shirtless in tiny swim trunks for so long before you have to start wondering things. And you can only stand for them to stare at you for so long without wondering if maybe they were interested. And maybe for the last two days you’ve thought about how he carried you to bed, and how strong he was, and how big his biceps are, and how he could probably squeeze you tight. How his stamina must be insane if he’s going on runs with Adam and only Adam is returning winded, while it seems like they only had to stop exercising for his sake.
Her fingers carefully loop around his wrist. “Well, I think I was the one to kick the sand in your eye by accident,” she tells him. “Come back with me; I wanna go back.”
“Are you sure? We – I’m seriously fine; I just needed a second to shake some thoughts out of my head,” he told her, “If you wanted to… to stay, I know you were – um. . .speaking with someone.” And though he tries not to, it’s spoken with just enough vitriol that if Y/N hadn’t been suspicious before, she definitely would have been now.
Y/N starts walking in the direction of the house again, fingers tightening around his arm.
“He’ll be okay,” she answers, “Text the others and let them know we’re headed out first.”
. . .
They really don’t speak much on the way back to the house. Harry eventually falls into step with her instead of her dragging him behind her, but Y/N doesn’t let go of his arm at all. She can feel the thundering of his pulse beneath her fingertips, and it sort of makes her salivate like she’s a vampire or a mosquito. What the hell is going on with her? The reaction she’s having to this sniffly, crying Harry is almost visceral. Has a guy ever cried because of her before? She doesn’t know – she’s certain she would remember if this were the reaction that came from it.
They get to the house pretty quickly. They kick off their shoes at the front door, and Y/N dips her feet into the bucket of water (that Harry has been routinely changing out) so that there’s no sand tracking through the house. She led them to their room, even though there was nobody home. It just felt wrong to be out in the open when they both have a room they share, and the others would be home every minute. If she were questioning him, and he started crying again, and in front of everyone? Y/N would feel like a monster. She doesn’t want them to see him crying because she can tell he’s a little embarrassed about it, even though it’s cute.
“Harry –” she begins, because she’s about to apologize and try to explain herself without sounding like a maniac, but Harry starts talking before she can.
“I think you look beautiful tonight,” he rushes to say, “And I thought it first, but I didn’t get the chance to say it. Then that man said it before me, and it just. . .upset me. I could tell he was whispering it in your ear, but I. . .I thought about it first. I know that’s stupid and childish, but –” he shook his head, “But that’s just how I’m feeling right now. I should’ve been the first to say it.”
Alarms are blaring in her head right now, but not bad ones. Good ones. Bright ones. Chirpy, twinkling, sparkling alarms that explode with sweets and whipped cream, cakes and pies. Confetti bursts from the speakers as they sound.
Y/N doesn’t think when she leans in; she just does what her body urges her to do, and it’s urging her to kiss him. Her heart is thudding rapidly when she grabs him by the face and presses a kiss to his mouth, sucking his bottom lip between her teeth and nipping. Harry makes a startled squeak in his throat at first, but accepts her readily, meeting her tongue outside of her mouth to flicker together. He tastes like fruity alcohol plus a hint of saltiness from his tears, and Y/N feels like her head is swimming. This is too much and not enough all at once. But this feeling that she’s been feeling, niggling at the back of her head – she had to satiate it right then and there. It was demanding that she do, actually.
Harry moves fluidly with her. He kisses like someone who definitely knows how to kiss, tilting his head, working himself into it, his hands finding her sides and squeezing. His tongue is feathery when it flickers into her mouth, touching hers softly before curling and rubbing against it. She pulses then flutters around nothing, walls coaxing something imaginary deeper inside of her. It feels good – so good that her eyes practically roll to the back of her head. The heat of his body against hers and the need to press closer and kiss deeper are what drive her. Plus the sweet noises that are leaving his throat, low and whiny, as his glasses get all screwed up, crooked and fogged between them.
Y/N takes a step forward, and her thigh comes in contact with his erection. Her heart was already racing, but it gallops when she feels that. Harry’s big. She’d already kind of clocked this because of his swim trunks and the couple of times she’s seen him in his briefs, but seeing is way different than feeling. Feeling him, she registers that he has a monster in there and it’s something that needs to be dealt with accordingly.
Her hands slid from his face, down his body, toward the belt around his hips, but before she could properly undo it, Harry reached down to stop her.
The sound that she moans against him is questioning, brows pinching together when she pulls away to see him. Was she reading this wrong? Maybe she shouldn’t have kissed him? But he’d been responding so eagerly to it; she wouldn’t have guessed that this was something that he didn’t want or was unsure about. His grip around her wrists is strong, and when she realizes that he’s only using one hand, she thinks she might just pass out.
“Sorry,” her words sound a little wet before she swallows, “Do you – did I – I’m sorry,” she doesn’t feel very drunk from her drinks, but she feels drunk with lust, and the flushed, slicked, and swollen look of Harry’s lips after being kissed. Hell, she could have been doing this every fucking night, couldn’t she have? If he wanted it, she could have given him a temporary lip stain just from pressing their mouths together. “I took it too far? You’re hard, so I thought –”
“I want to do you,” he murmurs, cutting her off and sinking to the floor in front of her. Y/N gasps when his nose drags from her belly button, down to her crotch, pushing his nose against her and breathing in softly. Her stomach does a hot little flip-flop from arousal, his hands slowly dragging from her ribs, down to her hips, and they feel so fucking massive against her, she feels herself getting wetter. “I don’t – I don’t care if I cum tonight, I want to make you cum before the others get here.”
And she definitely, definitely, definitely wasn’t expecting this. Y/N isn’t sure what she thought might happen if she flirted in front of him, but the last thing she imagined was that he’d end up on his knees in front of her. He makes a filthy sight – and an image that she thinks would do numbers on socials and probably inspire many blurbs and headcanons about needy boys who sink to their knees with teary eyes wanting to make you feel good. She can’t believe what she’s seeing or feeling when he starts to bunch the fabric of her dress up, shoving it over her hips and making her hold it so that he can focus on what’s underneath it.
Her panties, she could bet, were already damp, but Harry presses his face against her and sucks in a long, deep breath. Y/N twitches, jumping and giggling from the ticklish feeling, a soft moan tickling from her throat when she feels his lips graze against her folds. Harry guides one of her legs over his shoulder, letting it dangle and encouraging her to rest her weight on him as he tugs the crotch of the panties to the side and drags his tongue up from hole to her swollen, throbbing clit. They whine in unison – Y/N at the feeling of his wet, slick tongue between her, and Harry at her taste (or at least that’s what she’s guessing). He sucks the engorged button into his mouth for two little pulls before popping off, dragging his tongue against her again. She’s happy that her panties are flimsy, stretchy little things today so they don’t get too in the way of his tongue.
Harry eats like he’s starving for it. Like he’d been starved all day and Y/N finally let him have a taste. He laps at her like a needy mutt, desperate, hungry, flicking his tongue between her folds and slurping up what she has to give him. The gravity in how he’s eating her makes her drip directly into his mouth, and every time she squeezes or pulses, it drags him back to her hole like he’s going to suck it right out of her. Y/N’s tummy is so clenched, hips bucking into his mouth, fingers curling up tight in her dress. Her left hand is tangled in the fabric of her dress and also in his hands, where he has a firm grip on her, keeping her as still as he can so she doesn’t topple over. Y/N is wondering how many people he’s eaten out against a wall to have this down to a science, but those thoughts are silenced when he suckles her clit into his mouth again.
His eyes alternate between being blissed out and closed, and staring up at her. Gaze is still all swollen from crying earlier because of her; she’s pretty sure. Did he have a crush on her? Is that why he’s always staring and looking at her? Is that why he was so sad she wasn’t letting him do things for her? Was she reading too far into this?
His fingers dig into her flesh, pulling her closer, moaning against her pussy like he was the one being eaten out. Y/N would do that – she’d split him open and tongue his cute little hole too, if he’d let her. Y/N thinks she’d do anything for him right now if it meant that she could feel his tongue like this more often. There’s a burning coil tightening in her belly, ready to burst while he happily dines between her legs. Her folds feel slick, and her pussy feels a little sloppy, with how much she’s leaking onto his tongue, but he has never seemed so at ease. Even when they were soaking in the onsen today, he seemed ten times more relaxed with a face full of her cunt. His glasses push up against her when he moves closer, and for some reason that really does her in.
Y/N’s head thuds back against the wall, her throat extending with a moan when she starts to cum, thighs shaking hard. It’s intense, more than she’s expecting. She thinks it’s the fastest and hardest that she’s cum with someone else in her life, and it’s unknotting muscles that have been wound up for years and years. Y/N’s pussy contracts like it’s begging for something to be inside of it and Harry listens, letting her grind herself against his face while he wriggles his tongue inside of her. He makes these soft, pleading hums of “Mhm, mhm,” like he’s begging for more, telling her how okay he is with this, how pleased he is. Helping her helps him; he told her that, and she’s certain that extends to cumming.
Eventually, it’s too much. He drags her orgasm out for as long as he can before she’s twitching and sensitive, shoving against his forehead until he detaches from her with a wet pop. Her leg slid off of his shoulder, down to the floor uselessly. Honestly, she thinks his hands on her are the only reason she hasn’t toppled right over yet.
Harry looks lewd. His face was wet and blotched pink all over; his lips were swollen and fat from the kissing and from what he’d just done to her, glistening as he lulled his tongue around them to lap up every bite of her juices he could. His glasses are all fucked, still crooked since they kissed, so she reaches down and straightens them out. Even though he’s holding his body is lewd, on his knees, legs outstretched, his cock obvious and thick in his trousers and a clear wet spot that spreads with each little throb she can see.
Y/N feels crazed, almost, when she sees that. Her eyes wild as she blinks, “You’re – you –” she stutters, and Harry has the nerve to look sheepish.
“Yeah,” he answers delicately, “You tasted really, really good, I – I’ve been wanting to do that since you said nobody has ever made your thighs shake while they ate you.”
Still catching her breath, she asks, “When did I say that?”
“Two years ago, after the movies once.”
Y/N has no recollection of this, and that makes it even more steamy, for some reason. Has he just been thinking about that? For two years?
She moves her foot to the wet bulge in his bottom and presses the sole of her foot along the curve of it. The sound Harry makes is delicious and a little pathetic when he grabs her ankle tightly and rolls up into the touch before jerking away, “Ah, too much,” he whined, thudding his head against her thigh, “We need – we need to – come and lie down, I’ll clean you up.”
Y/N crawled into the bed, wondering what that could entail before Harry appeared at the bedside with a warm, wet cloth in his hand. He’s still in his messy bottoms, but he doesn’t seem to care, as he delicately strips her of her panties. He’s gentle while he wipes away the spit and her cum, before placing a soft, sweet kiss on her thigh before heading to her suitcase. She watches as he picks out the pajamas from her sleepwear packing cube and brings them over to her, along with a new pair of panties.
“Thank you for letting me,” Harry tells her as he lies them carefully beside her, then leans down and places another wet, sucking kiss to her thigh, “Your skin tastes so sweet.”
She is still breathless, mouth opening and closing like a fish, “That – Harry, your tongue is insane – thank you,” she says, instead of asking the million other questions she wants to ask. Neither of them has the capacity for that right now. They just had two very big revelations in the last 72 hours, and Harry has cum cooling and drying probably very uncomfortably in his pants right now. The others would be back sooner rather than later, and at least Mei and Niall will probably tumble into the room, if not to catch them “in the act,” then to see if they are okay. Harry had messaged them that they were feeling dehydrated from sweating all day, and they were going back to get some rest. “I’ve never – I’ve never cum like that before.”
He grins sweetly. Like a switch has been flipped, he’s got that sweet, gentle look in his eyes again.
“That makes me happy. I’ll be right back, okay? I need to clean up.”
Y/N watches him disappear behind the door with a pair of briefs and his own pajamas in his hands. She hears the sink faucet turn on and the gasp of someone who just put a wet washcloth on their softened, sensitive cock. Her mind is reeling.
Hi my lovebugs, this is the sequel-ish to Admiration! It could be read as a standalone though. I had them on my mind recently after I gave it a reread and I forgot how much I loved writing it so I wanted to touch on a few more things from them. Hope you enjoy!
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WC-4k
warnings- angst (resolved), avoidant attachment, talk of failed dates (not with H), anxiety, smut, anal play(not p in a penetration, just teasing it) soft Dom!Harry
There had been a time in the not so distant past that Y/N had been sexually frustrated, cynical, and almost hopeless about meeting the man who could give her what she wanted.
She herself would admit that she had somewhat high standards compared to those she knew, but despite some urges from people around her that maybe they were possibly unobtainable, she refused to lower them. It wasn’t fair of her to settle for something she knew wouldn’t satisfy her, regardless if other people did.
Perhaps that sounded cruel, and maybe it was, but so was settling for someone you weren’t head over heels for.
That had been something she had done at the very beginning of her dating journey, and she had vowed after the third situationship with a man she had only seen potential and not results with that she would never, ever do that again. A lesson learned too many times.
People liked to say ‘if you know, you know’, and she hadn’t been so certain about that in the past. There were lots of instances of people who had given someone a chance when they were unsure and after a few dates it had worked, and for that she was ecstatic for them, but in her case it had only ever ended up with wasted time.
Lots of people had initially been up for the ‘challenge’ when Y/N had tried to state her standards, and at the beginning it worked out slightly, sometimes showing some promise, but she could always see the cracks in the foundation she barely laid down. The cement hadn’t even cured yet when she watched their jaw twitch or heard the sighs of exasperation, and it was then that she would keep an eye on it but knowing that it likely wouldn’t work.
There were three chances. She liked to think she was a very understanding person and that had been part of the problem when she had first started to implement going for exactly what she wanted instead of conceding to what was ‘available’, but with each person it got easier. Depending on the offense, the person didn’t get the third chance.
Two cancelled dates in a row? Bye bye.
Going three days without any texts or calls? Adios.
They said something that very obviously didn’t align with her morals and values? See ya fucking later.
So yes, it had been easy to become cynical after a while.
That was also why four months into being official with Harry that she knew she was going to marry him.
It was a feeling, really, a knowing that settled into her chest and stayed warm and glowy. The idea of being with him forever didn’t panic her like it had in the past with other people, there had been no major fuck ups besides a few cancelled dates because of work which he had rectified nearly immediately by a lot of soft words and heartfelt apologies he had stepped out of said meetings to give, sending her food and calling her on his way home, asking if he could see her to give her a kiss goodnight.
Not to fuck and leave, but a literal kiss goodnight before being prepared to drive all the way back to his home.
Did she end up inviting him in anyways? It depended on her mood. Usually, yes.
For a man so busy with multiple companies and a charity he was actually involved in, he always made time for her. He made sure she knew ahead of time what his schedule was and if he was going to be out of touch for a while, and that was something she appreciated more than he could ever know.
Her avoidant tendencies had shifted into something far more settled, but she still had the remnants of that nasty anxiety that lingered. Somehow he could just tell, and made it a point to soothe it whenever he could.
“I’m so sorry, my treasure.” He looked genuinely remorseful when she picked up the phone to see him on her screen, sleepy and sad. Harry was on a trip in Italy and he’d told her that he would call her at ten in the evening, but once it got to midnight, she was more than upset when her phone had remained silent. Angry, even.
It wasn’t fair to be. Y/N knew he was out making big moves for his career and business was sometimes unreliable when it came to timing, but the anxiety had clawed at her quickly. Again, her old demons that she hadn’t quite slaughtered to completion putting unfair assumptions in her head that maybe he had met someone there more interesting, that he was dreading calling her, or even worse, something had happened to him.
Crying over it had seemed excessive, especially at her age, but Harry had quickly become so, so important to her that she wasn’t quite sure she knew how to deal with it. She could see long term with him, she wanted to be with him more than anything, and her brain was still having a hard time processing that he hadn’t shown any sign of being anything like the mistakes she had dated before that had fed these monsters in her head.
So waking up to his ring tone at 1:32 in the early morning had been a bit jarring, to say the least.
“The meeting ran over and my phone had died. I promise you, I ran to my hotel the fastest I could.” To his credit, he looked disheveled, like he had been running his hand through his normally styled hair and he had some puffiness under his eyes from lack of sleep . Y/N was aware of the fact that sometimes the things he worked on were very involved, and rationally she knew it wasn’t a big deal… but it had triggered an old wound.
It had happened to her an embarrassing number of times before, waiting for a phone call only to say they ‘fell asleep’ or they had straight up forgotten. The feeling of humiliation had been drudged back up like someone stepping in a clear stream and kicking the mud and gunk to make her feel cloudy as she had texted him for the third time unanswered, the feeling of a girl who used to give too many chances rising back.
This was different, though. This wasn’t some party boy or hinge match that had strung her along. This was her boyfriend, one who had given her no reason to truly doubt him.
“And no one else had a charger?” Her irritation showed through her sleepy voice, eyes narrowing at the screen. It felt ridiculous to say and embarrassment hit her gut when she did, but he shook his head in response, not getting prickly about her tone.
“No, my darling, and that was very irritating. I am going to buy a portable one to keep in my briefcase, alright? I won’t let this happen again.” He paused, frowning as he watched her flip on her lamp on her nightstand, letting him see the tear tracks racing down her cheeks. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I don’t like it when you cry. I can see that you did.” It looked like it pained him, no note of condescending lacing his tone. “Breaks my heart. I hate that I made you so upset.”
“It’s okay.” She sniffled, wiping the sleep from her eyes. “I… I didn’t mean to get snappy. I should have known it was something like that, but it made my imagination run a bit wild. It’s stupid.”
“It isn’t.” The strength of his response surprised her. “Nothing about the way you feel is stupid. It was a broken promise, and that’s my own fault. You didn’t do a thing wrong. It’s alright to be frustrated with me for that.” His lips turned into a sad smile, shifting his position on the bed.
“Well… Thank you for that.” It felt strange to have a man validate her reaction like that, even if she did know it wasn’t fully warranted. “I was just anxious, I think.”
“Why don’t you tell me why, hm? I want t’know what goes on in that pretty head of yours. I’ll make sure to keep mental notes so it doesn’t happen again.”
–
The way Harry handled her with such care was a whole new experience and in every single way. He’d made sure to make good on all of his promises so far, and while she knew it could change at any moment, she’d decided to let go of some of those fears to fully take him in. This was the man she wanted to be with and working through those things in order to trust him was important.
Besides that, she had never felt more adored in her life.
“You alright?” He murmured into her skin, kissing on her cheeks as she finished washing the final dish. Harry had cooked dinner so she had insisted on cleaning up, much to his protest. He’d lingered around while she did, offering a hand and chuckling when she whipped the kitchen towel at him, leaving only momentarily to take a quick call before returning right at the tail end of her cleaning spree and attaching himself to her.
“Yeah, I’m great.” The honest answer was that she was flustered from his lips pressing kisses all over her face (at least where he could reach from the position) and down her jaw. It was like he didn’t want to leave any area untouched, tiny pecks and a soft humming from his throat along to the Nina Simone album he’d put on making her skin heat up.
“That’s what I like to hear.” The hand on her stomach fiddled with the hem of her top, letting his pinky graze the bare skin from where it had ridden up. “I adore you. I hope you know.”
The gentle reminder of his feelings made her beam, surely letting him feel her smile against his lips as he gave another kiss to the heated skin. He hadn’t been shy about letting her know that he felt something strongly towards her, even if it was only a few months in.
For a man so refined, poised and controlled in every other context, when it came to letting her know how he felt, the longer they were together, the more free and messy he was in comparison.
Y/N fucking loved it.
“What a coincidence. I happen to adore you quite a lot, too.” She retorted, shutting the water off and wiping her hands on the clean towel hanging over the faucet before placing them on top of his. “I didn’t expect to like you this much, this quickly. Or for you to like me back equally.” Those small moments of vulnerability she sprinkled in to their conversations were sometimes intimidating to give, but the more open she was with him the more she got to know his thoughts.
Harry was more than giving when it came to communication and giving her the validation she needed. Sometimes it felt too good to be true, but everything about it seemed so earnest it was hard to actually doubt him.
“How could I not?” He sounded affronted by the idea of it, shaking his head before nosing into the crook of her neck. “You, my darling, are the most wonderful, intelligent, alluring woman I’ve ever met. I can’t describe to you how lucky I felt when you agreed to start seeing me regularly.”
Y/N snorted, running her fingers over his wrists and up to his forearms before cuffing over them. “I thought you weren’t really attracted to me at first because you didn’t try to fuck me.”
His body stilled behind her. An interesting reaction for someone so smooth, she waited for him to move. It didn’t take long, craning his head towards her, the wrinkle in his brow showed confusion and a bit of offense before he slowly shook his head. She wanted to smooth it away, make his face relax. “That is the exact opposite of what was happening. I was doing everything in my power to show you I was serious, yes, because you deserved the respect of being treated like a lady… but please, never mistake my attraction for you. It has always been… borderline distracting. Even now, I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Deciding to press his cheek against hers, he let out a sad sigh. “I never wanted you to think that. I’m sorry if you’ve ever felt undesired, my treasure. That’s never been the case. I just wanted to do it right.” The 5 o’clock shadow that had become more of an 8 o’clock one tickled her soft cheek as he spoke.
“No, I know you did. I figured that out after the third date when you kissed me.” Her face felt hot when she recalled how carried away the kiss had gotten, her back cold against the passenger side of his car when he’d dropped her off and given her the first proper smooch. The electricity was there immediately and had lit her up, making her cling to the lapels of his jacket and his own hand sliding down her back, dangerously close to her ass.
The memory of the groan he had let out was still something that made her knees weak. The way he’d tasted of wine and the mint he had on hand in his cupholder, too.
“Mmm. Best first kiss of my life. I’d like it to be my last.” Thumbing over her stomach, he pressed her forward and into the sink with a sigh, moving to nose over her cheek as his mouth drifted toward her ear. “You’ve no idea how badly I wanted to say ‘fuck it’, right then and there. Hike that beautiful dress up to your hips and take you right there, because I knew immediately that you were mine and I wanted to take you. Be greedy. But I couldn’t.” Clicking his tongue in disappointment, he let himself press against her ass.
Just the memory of the kiss had done something to him, too.
“Really?” She breathed, swallowing the thickness in her throat. “I-I didn’t know. It was the first glimpse I saw of when you get…”
“When I get what, sweetheart?” He questioned, letting his hand drift up, fingers running right over her breasts. A tease. Harry loved to fucking tease and it always made her squirm. He got off on making her impatient, hearing her whine, only to give in and give her the things she had only thought possible in her books and dirty dreams. It hadn’t helped her learn any patience, but thankfully he had enough for the both of them. “Hm?”
“When you get… feral. I don’t know. You’re always so proper but when you- when you grabbed the back of my neck to keep me where you wanted me, I got so wet.” Her breathy admission made him hum happily, finally allowing his hand to cup her and squeeze. Just a little bit- just another tease as his thumb grazed her nipple over the material of her top.
“Yeah? S’that what you like?” Harry knew damn well that was what she liked. He felt her get wet when he did, he felt her cum when he lost his control, he heard her sounds and how she went lax whenever he took over. “I can’t help myself sometimes. I just adore you so, so much. It takes over a part of me I’ve never seen. You’re the first to bring it out.”
The lack of control he had over himself when it came to her was one of the things she loved most. It was nearly impossible for him to hide it now. The longer they were together the more he showed her.
It shouldn’t have been a surprise when she was bent over the kitchen counter with her fuzzy cheetah sleep shorts discarded across the tiled floor and his hands running over her curves as he thrust into her, slow and deep.
Filling her to the brim, to the point where she let out little gasps as his hips pressed against her bum, he let out low, gravelly murmurs of appreciation. “Look at how you take it, my treasure.” He murmured, fingertips grazing the dimples in her back. “Like you were made for me. So fucking gorgeous, it’s driving me mad.”
Regardless of how filthy their sex got, no matter how hard he took her, how dirty his words developed into when he grunted them into her sticky skin, Y/N never felt anything less than worshipped. Seeing a man break his composure he kept around every other human being because he was so obsessed with her was a sensation that she never knew she wanted, but now that she had it? It was a necessity.
He was reverent and sweet, even, as he picked up the pace and nudged her thighs further apart. “I can’t get enough of you. It’s never enough. Just want t’be touching you every moment… I’d live inside you if I could.”
That sounded especially tempting as his hand slipped to her stomach and down to cup her mound, thumbing over her slippery clit. “Arch for me, sweetheart. Let me see that pretty face.” The opposite hand moved the hair that had fallen in her face, cooing as she did as he requested. “There she is. There’s my girl. Fuck, you’re perfect.”
It would be embarrassing, how wet she got for him, if Harry didn’t love it. He preened every time he saw just how slicked up she got for him, coating his cock and his sac damn near every time he got inside of her. Her body reacted almost excessively strongly to him, in ways she hadn’t known possible, and he worked to get every possible one.
The squelch of his cock inside of her, skin against skin and her panting filled the kitchen, fingers clawing uselessly on the marble countertop when she felt his other hand make the trek from her face towards her bum- and she knew what was coming.
Before Harry, she’d never really considered any sort of anal play to be her thing, but the first time he had gently nudged the tip of his thumb in, she had lit up. It had pleased him to no end, seeing as he knew no one else had touched her there, and he wanted to claim it.
If only he knew just how much she belonged to him.
“Yeah? Want me to put something in this precious little hole too?” He spoke sweetly, like he wasn’t about to do one of the filthiest things a person could do. It was the duality of the man that had her head spinning every time they were intimate, but it seemed to get better every damn time.
“You know I do.” Her reply was breathy as she used her elbows to raise her torso, but he wasn’t having any of that.
“No, none of that.” He scolded, abandoning her ass for a moment to urge her back down. “You aren’t doing any work. You’re going to lay there and be gorgeous while I take care of everything. S’my job.”
Y/N had won the karma lottery for dating so many duds, she was pretty sure. Like a gift from the universe for her troubles, giving her a man who not only wanted to take care of her but thrived off of it. Harry loved to be in charge, sure, but it was the act of giving that really got him off- Caring for her in ways no one else possibly could.
“Okay, m’sorry baby.” She swallowed, taking a breath that was promptly stolen when he spit right over her hole. “Oh, fuck.” Her face went lax as she bleated the curse out, not sure if she wanted to move from the touch or back into it. It was so much, but not enough.
“You like it, I know. M’gonna give it to you. I’ve been neglecting this ass, haven’t I baby? That’s not nice.” He shook his head, rubbing over the rim of it. “So pretty and tight… Makes you feel so good, too. One day we’ll get my cock in there. Get you some toys t’open you up… but for now, I just want to make you cum. You’ve had a long day, and I’ve been thinking about my pussy all fucking day.”
The pleasure was almost indiscribable. Feeling the intrusion of his thumb, his hand on her clit and his cock thrusting into her, she was never more full than this. In moments like this, it was abundantly clear not only who she belonged to, but who belonged to her. The noises out of his mouth, the praises, the worship, all of it in one proved just how much it was reciprocated.
“You’ll never feel undesired again.” He grunted, his thrusts catching a little speed. There was no doubt he could feel her walls clenching around him, sucking on him to try and get him to meet his end, and she could hear it in his voice. “Should have done this over the hood of my car during that third date, just so you knew how much I wanted you. Wanted you to be mine, to crave this cock like I was drooling over this perfect pussy before I had even seen it.”
He’d hidden it quite well. She’d only had a little inkling that he wanted her after their kiss but he’d held off so gracefully that she had been unsure.
Now, there was no questioning it. She was wanted in ways she hadn’t ever fathomed.
“I-I wanted you so bad. I love when you’re a gentleman- oh fuck.” She hiccuped when the tip of his cock brushed the spot she needed again, eyes watering at the feeling. “I love it, but I love this too. Wanna feel you wanting me.”
That was a challenge if he ever heard one, even if she hadn’t meant it to be.
Y/N felt his want when he focused on that spot that had her knees weak, felt it when he kept his thrusts the same to focus on that spot, and especially felt it when she came the first time and he didn’t stop. Not even a falter in his rhythm, no skipped beat. Just the continuation of pleasure.
“I want you so much it aches. I sit at work and think about when I get to see you next, how I can get you closer to me, make up excuses to come by just to kiss you. But if you want me to do this more often? Want me to get you face down and gushing around my cock over and over again? I’ll do it. I want you forever.” His voice was slurred a little bit, but he didn’t stop.
“Adore you so much. You’re everything I fuckin’ dreamed of. Never felt m-more lucky than seeing you on that first date. Knew you’d be mine. Knew I’d have to do anything I could to make you happy. My hands hurt from how… how bad I wanted to run them all over you, but now you’re gonna see.” He breathed, smacking lightly over her clit to get her to whimper for him. “M’gonna show you what’s going on on my head all the time.”
That was what she wanted. Knowing he was in his office talking about god knows what business stuff he talked about, texting under the table that he couldn’t wait to have her was something she wanted.
I had an idea and it spiraled! It was meant to be a blurb but it turned into a one shot, and it's smutty <3 I know I've been light on that lately but more is coming.
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Y/N and her newly established boyfriend had yet to be properly intimate.
Harry was a gentleman on all counts. He paid for their outings without question, he walked her to her door every single time, held every door open- car and building alike. The man knew the sidewalk rule and abided by it every time, he had his impeccable manners while talking to her, pulled out her chair when they went out to eat, he didn’t call her after midnight, and most of all- he hadn’t pushed for anything sexual.
The extent of it had been kisses that got heated enough for her to be pressed against the passenger door of his car before he’d apologized, fixing her lipstick with his thumb and told her with a slight blush on his cheeks that he’d ’gotten carried away’ and apologized for not controlling himself, but he was very enamored with her. Even if it left her with damp panties and a second heartbeat between her legs, the tenderness in which he treated her had been the stand out of it all.
It was the exact opposite of every man she had ever been with. There had been no hint of even daring to suggest a hook up, or bypass the dates to get to the ‘fun stuff.’ Granted, she had asked him what his intentions were when he’d asked her out originally and he’d seemingly honestly told her that he wanted a real relationship and connection- but Y/N had been a bit cynical.
So many times she had gone out with a man who said they were looking for something real but they’d attempt to speedrun the first date to get her alone, or see her a few times, fuck around and then suddenly ‘not feel the spark’ before moving on to another woman to do the exact same thing. Take, take, take without receiving. Literally, in some senses, considering an alarming amount of men didn’t know where the clitoris was located.
The dating scene had been fatigued for her for a long time, and despite the hopes she’d had for Harry, she hadn’t allowed herself to hope. That itself had been hard when it felt like her personal dream man had been laid out in front of her, with pretty seafoam green eyes and dimples she wanted to indulge in poking, so she had told herself that no matter how much she liked him, she would try to hold herself back.
Funny, that was. It hadn’t been that long into dating when she had realized how incredible he was. How intelligent and kind he was, how he had most of the qualities she’d put down in her journals at 3 am when she needed to dream a little bit. Harry was what she wanted, and allowing herself to want it openly had been hard- but she’d been met with a warm reception.
Being a very successful man in business with multiple companies and hats he had to wear, Harry could be seen as a bit stiff, but she’d been able to see past that because he was letting her. She’d seen him laugh and dance a little bit to music he showed her, and just because he was wearing a suit a lot of the time didn’t mean he was what she’d probably have shamefully assumed of a man like him at first glance. Harry wanted to be good, he wanted to give her what she wanted, and for once in her life, she had let go a little bit and let him.
God, she wanted to fuck him. He hadn’t budged on that, and she hadn’t pushed too hard, but thankfully she hadn’t been made to wait an excessive amount of time.
It had been 7 official dates, 3 coffee dates on their lunch at work and 2 times meeting for drinks until he’d asked her to be official. The meticulously prepared candlelit dinner at his place was where he’d gotten her favorite meal prepared, gotten her favorite eclairs from the bakery down the road, and had curated a playlist of artists she’d mentioned liking before he’d asked her on his couch if he would be able to have the ‘honor of being hers’ and vice versa.
It had been the easiest yes of her life, considering the man had put in more effort than she had thought possible. For once in her life she had felt cherished and looked after. He’d sent her money for her nails earlier in the day as well; which she had never asked for but he had said was ‘a man should look after a woman he cares about, even if they are more than capable of taking care of them selves’, and she had decided in the seat while getting her feet scrubbed and the cucumber lotion slathered onto her that she would stop at nothing to lock this man down.
Turned out he was one step ahead. He’d always been one step ahead. And it also turned out she had misjudged him, even if only just.
He had a lot of charisma that was disguised as something else; a big energy that had let her think that he had to be good in bed. That feeling had only been slightly challenged with how quickly he had calmed things down when she had wanted more a few times. In short- she had assumed that maybe the energy he put off was a facade and perhaps his one flaw would be he wouldn’t be very adventurous in the bedroom. Maybe a missionary with the lights off type of guy which, hey! It wasn’t the worst thing in the world. She could fix that.
Harry was a teachable man, considering how brilliant he was. He hadn’t been suggestive and she had sat back and had the self conversation about being willing to show him what she liked, to give him a crash course in dirty talk and how to fuck her how she liked because with everything else he had, sex was something she knew could be adjusted.
It was very, very clear, feeling his large hands on him and her bare tits exposed to the cool air of his bedroom that she had been sorely mistaken. Nipples swollen and sensitive from the way he’d sucked and let his teeth graze them, dress tossed to the side leaving her splayed out naked on his bed, he’d been unable to keep his hands off of her after she asked him if they could ‘do more’ now that they were an official item.
He’d taken the challenge very literally.
“Look at that little clit.” He murmured, brushing his thumb over the swollen nerve. Sitting on his knees between her spread, wet thighs, he looked more comfortable than she would be with hardwood digging into her knees, but it was most likely because of the distraction in front of him. “Poor thing. All sorts of worked up, aren’t you?”
Y/N let out a soft sigh, nodding her head as she bit back a moan. The smallest touches were setting her off. Harry had turned her body into a live wire. With him circling over her clit and the hot wash of his breath as he spread her cunt open for him to see, it was becoming difficult to breathe. Life, and Harry apparently, had come at her fast. So fast that her head was spinning, showing her just how dirty the proper man could really be.
“Yeah, I bet you are. I’ve been thinking about this for a long, long time. Did Y’know that?” Eyes looked up at her, dark and hungry as she shook her head in response. Words escaped her, but she managed to get out a strangled “N-No…” as he hummed under his breath.
That was in fact, news to her.
“I have been. Since the first night we’ve met. I tried very hard t’be good. To not think about you in such a filthy way, but it was difficult. Talked to you for a bit… admitted how absolutely incredible you are… how beautiful… and I knew you had to have the prettiest little pussy. I was wrong, though.” He turned his head just a bit to kiss her sensitive and slightly sticky inner thigh, letting out a chuckle when she jumped just a tad. “It’s even prettier. Most gorgeous cunt I’ve ever seen.”
It was unnerving to feel his gaze on her, to know he was well and truly up close and personal with perhaps the most vulnerable part of her, but she could see the admiration and hunger in his eyes. She couldn’t even pretend not to see it as he let his slippery thumb glide up to her mound of soft flesh above her cunt and back down to her entrance, spreading the slick around.
“Can’t believe how wet you’ve gotten for me. I won’t lie to you, my sweet girl… I’ve been dying for this to be mine.” His voice rumbled against her thigh as he laid a line of kisses, wet and slow up the sensitive skin. She’d have burn from his mustache on her thighs, surely, but Y/N didn’t care. It felt so good, her poor clit was throbbing underneath the passes of the pad of his thumb, and she wanted more.
“Please…” She croaked, lifting her hips. It felt hard to think, let alone speak, but he seemed to like that. Revel in the effect he had on her. “Please, Harry.”
“Please? Please what, sweetheart?” He murmured, pulling back from his kisses to spread her thighs open with his forearms. “What do you want me to do to my pussy, hm?”
Y/N bit her lip to bite back the scream, because what the fuck? How did he do that? How did he command her body so fucking easily that she could feel the trickle of arousal drip down her ass from the soft rasp of his voice and the intensity of how he spoke. Soft spoken, but meaning every syllable he let pass his lips.
His pussy. That was something he’d obviously been dying to say- but she hadn’t realized how much she’d wanted him to own it.
“Because, sweet, precious girl…” He sighed, spreading the lips open as he got a good look at her. “I’m not sure m’quite done admiring my pussy yet. So I think you can sit there and be the cute little thing you always are for me while I get better acquainted with her, and then I’ll give you what you want.”
It was hard not to let her hips jerk up as he tapped his fingertip over her clit, letting another breath wash over her as the heat of it made her stomach tingle. He was staring, admiring, analyzing her like she was art at a museum and that had never been anything close to what she experienced- so who was she to tell him no.
“Yeah I can… I can sit. I can wait.” Her throat felt thick as she spoke but she managed more than two words, and that was a feat in itself.
The smile on his lips was her even bigger reward.
“Thatta girl.” He praised, leaning up a bit to kiss her lower tummy- very close to where she wanted him to be. “I’ll always treat you well. Make it worth your while for letting me see what you’re letting me own, hm? Suck that pretty clit and make you stain the sheets… give you anything you want. Just need to stare a bit longer before I get her all puffy and wet… ruin her a little bit.”
She was already ruined, but she had vastly underestimated the way it would feel to have a man she desired so intensely to coo and stare at her body like it was his favorite thing.
Honestly, she had no idea how long it had been of his sweet and filthy words. His knees had to be numb as he dragged her to the edge of the bed, chuckling at her squeal of surprise as he pulled back for a moment to run his hand down her body. From her collarbone all the way to her cunt, cupping it in his large palm as she let out a strangled moan. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Seeing you spread open for me… You have no idea what that does to me, little treasure.” Clicking his tongue, he momentarily removed his hands to roll up the sleeves of his button up.
The always impeccably pressed and starched button ups, rolling the sleeves up his forearms as he began to look undone himself. The hair he gelled back tousled from her hands, a curl draped over his forehead and the 5 o’clock shadow was getting darker from when she’d first arrived. It was a brand new side to him.
“I’ve tried very hard to behave, Y/N. I’m a gentleman, and I will treat you as such… but something has clued me into the fact that it may not be what you want in this scenario, hm?” He shifted on his knees and she could hear the metallic clinking of his belt, but it was hidden from view. “I have to admit to you that I’ve never felt such unadulterated hunger in my life as I have with you. I don’t feel passion to this level. But you’ve brought something out of me, and I have to tell you that I’m becoming obsessed with you.” Lifting her leg, he planted a wet kiss to her calf. “With your voice.” A kiss to her knee. “With how you look at me, your intelligence…” he rounded up her thigh. “And now, this body.”
He audibly groaned as he spread her lips open with his fingers again, pursing his lips- and surprising the hell out of her- spitting on her clit. His eyes didn’t stray as she gasped, watching it slide down her pussy before he rubbed it into her already soaked skin. “So let me show you just how crazy you’ve made me. How obsessed I am with you. And most of all… how grateful I am that you’re letting me own you.”
Harry did more than that.
With his mouth on her, Y/N felt like she was floating. Again and again, he made her cum. Like a man starved, he’d barely pulled away from her pussy- save for letting his tongue run over her other hole which had her shuddering from the touch she wasn’t used to- and she had to wonder if he’d ever be able to be pulled away.
“You have no idea…” The usually well put together man whined against her pussy, trying to get her to cum a fourth time. It almost hurt, tingly and sharp, but she loved the pain as he sucked over her clit and sloppily spit back down over it. Webs of her arousal and his saliva stuck to his chin as he worked his fingers inside of her, the other hand keeping her down by pressing over her stomach. “No fucking idea what trouble you’ve just started.”
Y/N only hoped she could get more of it.
“It feels…” Y/N was finding it hard to breathe for an entirely different reason now. “God, it hurts but it feels so good. You’re r-ruining me. Like you said… oh, fuck.” Her hips tipped up as he curled his fingers, a deep chuckle vibrating against her clit. The sounds were pure filth. The squelch of his fingers fucking her deep and practiced, his mouth sucking on her cunt, his groans and her weak whimpers and whines as she tried to keep her head on straight bounced off his maroon walls. “H-Harry I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna fucking cum a-again and… fuck, I’m gonna make a mess.”
She’d only been able to do it twice before, and she’d done it herself. Truthfully, the reason she didn’t go for it more often was because of the mess squirting made- but that didn’t deter the older man.
If anything, it spurred him on further.
“Make a mess then, treasure.” He panted, nosing at her clit. “Make a mess all over my hand and my face. I don’t give a fuck about the sheets.” One of the first true curses she’d heard from him had her clenching around him, but more than that was seeing him so undone. Wrecked by her alone, his new fascination with her pussy. “You’re going to give it t’me now. Alright?” His hand on her stomach came down to smack at her clit, the light, sharp sting making a gasp rip from her throat.
Fuck, that was good.
“You’re almost there. I can feel it. M’not stopping. Give it to me, Y/N. Let me see what my pretty pussy can do. Want the mess, want you to soak me. Be good for me, give it.” He was commanding it, keeping the pace just as he had it as his mouth went back to her clit.
Her body liked to obey.
With a scream that startled herself, she slapped her hand over her mouth as she came. Squirting on his fingers, she felt him moan against her pussy as he pulled his mouth off her clit and rubbed it frantically instead with his hand. “Give it t’me, give it baby- yes, yes, thatta-fuckin’-girl…. That’s what I want, give me what I want, let me give it to you- Fuck.” He snarled, tongue lapping over his fingers to taste her.
Writhing on the bed, she let out a little sob as she fell back flat on the bed instead of sitting on her elbows, body jerking as little bursts of her squirted over his fingers and surely soaked his hand. Never had she heard him so unhinged as he lapped her up, thanking her in between and telling her she was a good girl, that she was perfect as his fingers slowed until they stilled inside of her, kisses pressed to her thighs and belly as she got over sensitive.
It felt a bit fuzzy as she whined at the emptiness, a brief recalling of him saying to sit still before he was back, stroking sweaty hair out of her face and a warm washcloth gently cleaning between her thighs.
“There you are.” He murmured, voice warm and smile soft as he swiped his finger over her cheeks. “M’sorry baby. Got overwhelmed, hm? No more tears.”
Y/N hadn’t even realized she’d been crying. It just felt so good, she felt so safe, and she’d drifted away. Coming back to his smiling face felt very good, especially with his tender touch. “Hi.” She peeped, reaching up for him. There was no fight from him to come down, balancing on his one hand as he gave her the kiss she wanted.
“Hello, beautiful girl.” He murmured with an amused smile. “Let me take care of you, okay?”
“Mm… ‘Kay. For how long?” She asked without meaning to, but his answer was what she wanted to hear regardless.
“As long as you let me. I take care of what’s mine.”
CW: whiney harry, dom harry, punishment (edging), teasing, dirty talk all just freaky stuff guys lol!! let me know what u thinkkk xx
WC: 2.2K
miss your pussy baby
12:34AM
Y/N stared down at the message, the light illuminating her face in her otherwise dark room. She was adjusting the covers over her shoulder when the video pinged through.
The camera was a bit shaky and the room was lit yellow, creamy white sheets rumpled around his bare legs and thighs. It was flipped to the back view so she could see bits of generic hotel decor— a wooden table upon which his suitcase was thrown open and the beginning of a hallway which no doubt led to the bathroom.
The star of the show was his big, twitching cock resting on his abdomen, curved to the right of his bellybutton. The mere sight of it had Y/N biting her lip and clenching her thighs.
She could hear needy little sounds through her screen; whimpering, for fuck’s sake, as his tatted hand wrapped around the base of his dick. He was pink and leaking from the top, a line of cum dripping down towards his knuckles. Y/N held her breath as he delivered the first stroke and at the same time whined lowly, “Fuck, fuck— baby, please. Please, miss you, miss fucking you— shit,” Another stroke and his hips thrusted into his fist, “Miss you on my cock, on my tongue, on my fingers. Please, angel, I’m so horny for you,” His voice was gravelly and rough, how it usually got when he was aroused. It made butterflies stir in Y/N’s tummy.
Just as things got really good and Y/N trailed her own fingers towards where she throbbed, the video ended. She groaned out loud, already feeling pent up. It was not fair that her boyfriend sent her these borderline pornographic videos all while being inaccessible on the other side of the world.
It’d been three weeks since he left, and they were the longest, driest three weeks of Y/N’s life. She was so used to being around him 24/7— waking up with him, cooking breakfast with him, shopping with him, even showering with him… she felt as if she was in the middle of a drought, the way she thirsted for even a drop of him. Just a moment with him.
Thus it was safe to say that the video he sent had her bent in ways she’d never been before for anyone in her life. Feeling quite desperate and needy herself, she geared up to send him a text back.
why are you so horny
spot a pretty girl in the audience?
12:40AM
Y/N knew the text was lowkey toxic. But she also knew that when Harry was really turned on, he got sweet and begged her nicely, so she was hoping to get some of that out of him. It didn’t happen that often, yet when it did, she always enjoyed it more than she anticipated. A smirk played at her lips as she watched the three texting bubbles appear and disappear four times in a row; it was clear to her that he was having trouble stringing a reply together.
no of course not baby
only have eyes for you
12:41AM
idk hun i think youve got someone else in mind
12:41AM
Y/N and Harry had been dating for quite some time now, and she knew he would never do anything like what she was insinuating, but it was fun to be a bit bratty and run her mouth from time-to-time. What was he going to do, fly to her country right that second and punish her? The physical distance between the two of them was what gave her the confidence to keep playing along with this bit.
Biting back a grin, she waited as the bubbles appeared and disappeared again. After a minute of this, she was worried he fell asleep or something, until her phone pinged with another video.
In this one, his legs were spread wider. He held the phone with his left hand weakly, the right one squeezing the base of his painfully hard cock before slowly stroking up towards the tip. He traced his thumb around the plump pink muscle as another drop of precum coated his knuckles. Again, in the back, he whimpered her name, bucking into his own hand, “S’only ever like this for you, lovey, I promise. Only ever want to fuck you— wanna fuck you forever. Never leave that perfect pussy. Shit— Please, baby, send me a photo, anything, need to see you—” He was cut off by the sloppy wet sound of his hand stroking himself, “Anything, please.”
Now that was something.
Y/N’s whole body was practically buzzing. She could feel herself getting more worked up as she replayed the video at least three times— each one appearing better than the last even though it was the exact same thing.
It was very rare for him to get like this; normally it was her who did all the begging and pleading. Watching and listening to him being so whiney for her always did her in. Deciding to be a tease, she purposefully left his video on seen. She wanted him to wait for her, get more desperate for her, because then she knew when he finally had her, it was going to be good.
Y/N (regretfully, yet optimistically) put her phone on Do not Disturb and shut it off. After all, she had to be up earlier than usual tomorrow.
She had a bloody flight to catch.
-
London was unbearably hot during this time of the year.
Y/N’d seen people post about it on social media and on weather reports, blazing red on the telly warning people about the massive heatwave that was going to hit the city these couple of months; but it was so much worse than she expected. She was lucky she was dating an international popstar, though, because that meant she got access to the best of the best rooms and condos and suites whenever she stayed with him. The aircon at Harry’s house was fucked, sadly, so he had to stay at a nearby hotel which was close to the stadium. Y/N didn’t mind— as long as she was with him, that was all that mattered.
It was just after his last show when she arrived at Wembley to surprise her boyfriend. Y/N tried to keep the whole ordeal as hush hush as she could, and when he caught sight of her waiting by his dressing room after the show, he all but ran to tackle her in a sweaty hug. Seeing him after a long time was always very sweet— sometimes they got teary-eyed as they embraced, told each other how much they missed the other, kissed (heavily)— all over sometimes; Harry liked to start at her eyebrows, go down to her nose, her lips, her chin, peppering them everywhere until she pushed him away.
Now, actually, Y/N physically couldn’t push him away.
Well, it wasn’t like she really wanted to anyway— she may not show it with her tears and her incessant whining, but the truth was that this was exactly where she wanted to be.
Exactly where she hoped to be when she sent Harry that mean, toxic text and then proceeded to ghost him.
Her wrists were bound to either side of the big bedframe. She was completely bare and at his mercy, nipples peaked and spit slicked from his constant sucking and licking at the sensitive buds. She could feel herself dripping down her thighs and staining the sheets below her. There were gnarly purple marks all over her tummy, thighs, and chest, all placed conveniently so she could hide them if needed.
After playing the perfect, doting boyfriend role in front of the world, he completely switched personas as soon as he had her alone for a moment. She could feel the tension in the air when he clicked the lock shut, told her to strip with a stern expression and set their leftover takeout down on a spare table, all about two hours ago.
Y/N could taste tears on her tongue though she could do nothing to wipe them off. She’d already almost come three times on his tongue at this point and she was ready to sign her soul away to the devil just to feel the beginnings of a real, followed-through orgasm.
Harry was tucked between her legs, both of her knees adjacent to his ears as he blew a stream of air at her twitching pussy. His hands pulled her lips apart, making way for him to observe how her clit was engorged and throbbing for his attention. “If you weren’t such a brat when I needed you, this wouldn’t be happening,” He said, lowly. His eyes wandered up to her face where she jutted her bottom lip out and simultaneously bucked her hips towards his face. He delivered a sharp smack to her thigh to keep her in place.
“I–,” She began, but was cut-off as he traced featherlight circles on her clit with his tongue. All the sexy scruff that’d gathered on his jaw tickled her sensitive skin, “Fuck— Harry, I’m sorry, please. I was only teasing. I’ve been so good— haven’t even touched myself.” Her back arched off the bed as he wrapped his lips around the bud and suckled harshly once, twice, thrice before popping off, her body chasing him again, “I’m not sure that’s enough, pretty. I was really hurt.” He replaced his tongue with a lazy thumb, resuming the circular motions to keep her heading towards the false hope of an orgasm.
Y/N tugged against the restraints as he spit on her pussy and mixed his saliva with her juices. She was going to beg him again as best as she could, before he suddenly pushed two fingers into her achy hole, at the same time still going strong with his thumb. Her body jerked when he curled his digits, jaw dropped open in a broken moan of his name. She had to force her hips to be still— fighting the instinct to grind them against his hand. Harry didn’t thrust his fingers; instead, massaged the tips of them against that sensitive, spongy spot inside her. If he didn’t stop now, she was worried she’d come really fast and he’d increase her punishment tenfold.
(Y/N says this having learnt from prior experience).
“I said I was sorry!” She cried, “Please, I’ll do anything. You can use me— use all of my holes, I don’t care, do whatever you want.” Harry continued his minstrations without hesitance. She could hear the nasty squelch every time he curled inside of her, each sound pushing her closer and closer. Her back came off the bed once more, “You make a tempting offer,” He stopped as he noticed her about to come. Y/N was basically sobbing now, wrists sore from his ties digging into her skin, and thighs shaking, “But I don’t think you’re coming at all tonight, baby.”
Harry gave her cunt a break and kissed the skin around her pussy tenderly. He gently set her legs down from where they wrapped around his shoulders and licked a path from her mound up to her marked sternum. Reaching her breasts, he wasted no time cupping one and dragging his tongue along the peaked nub. She struggled to keep her eyes open as he flicked it, drooling over her skin and then sucked on it, hard.
His other hand went up to her mouth, ring and middle fingers dipping inside for her to bite, “Now if I give you my cock, I’m afraid that’s just a nice little treat for you, hmm? Not really a punishment, is it?” Harry asked, parting from her tit. Strings of saliva connected him to her as he spread his spit over her chest, the sight of which was utterly filthy.
Nodding as well as she could with his fingers in her mouth, Y/N shook her head ‘no’ and mumbled incoherently, “Mm-mm. I just want— just want to feel you,” her voice was muffled, barely audible, and Harry had to slightly pull his fingers back as he came up to face her.
“Sorry, what was that, darling?” He asked sweetly, still rubbing her nipple. Just as Y/N began talking, he stuffed his fingers in her mouth again, deep enough that she slightly gagged. Harry found all of this very amusing, apparently, because he popped a dimple and feigned confusion. He tsked, “Fucked dumb already?” In an act of tenderness, he wiped her tears from her flushed cheeks and neck.
Y/N tried to give him her best sad, desperate, hungry-for-dick look, and for a moment she thought maybe it was working when he placed two gentle kisses on each damp eyelid. He continued kissing down her cheeks, her jaw and then finally her forehead.
“My sweet girl’s all teary eyed,” He cooed, still fucking her mouth with his two fingers. Harry cocked his head condescendingly, “S’a shame they’re all going to waste,” A hand wrapped firmly around her throat, “Even more shameful that I’ll have to fuck my fist right in front if her instead of this perfect pussy to teach her a fucking lesson.”
A/N: so sorry guys i just had to write this u got in my head!!! THIS WAS LOWKEY FUN TO WRITE LIKE A SHORT LITTLE FREAKY BLURB IF YALL HAVE ANY REQUESTS LIKE THIS ONE SEND IT THROUGH!!! THIS IS MY LAST TREAT TO U BEFORE I HEAD TO UNI AND LOWKEY DISAPPEAR!!! ALSO IK I SAID I WOULD WRITE THIS CONCEPT ABOUT CASUAL BABIES BUT CURRENT HARRY HAS BEEN ON MY MIND AND HES HOT AS F U C K SO THIS HAD TO BE DONE!!!! MIGHT DO SOMETHING FOR CASUAL LIKE THIS DOWN THE LINE SOMEDAY!! MAKE SURE TO LIKE REBLOG COMMENT SHARE AND ASK!! MUCH LOVE <33
summary - you and harry enjoy each others company after the wembley tour
word count: 1.5k
pairing: long-term-boyfriend!harry x reader
Wembley was empty now.
There was only the crew cleaning up the masses of boas and rubbish that was all over the floor.
You were on stage, trying to salvage the flowers that fans had thrown on stage for Harry during Grapejuice. You hoped to collect them and press them into a frame so Harry could hang it up in your house. Possibly in his recording studio.
You were kneeling on the floor, collecting the flowers into your Love On Tour tote bag.
“Babe!” Harry called from the side, entering the stadium from the tunnel.
“Hi, baby.” You smiled and waved at him, before returning to your collecting.
“Hi, baby.” You smiled and waved at him, before returning to your collecting.
“What are y’doing? Been looking for you for ages.”
He had changed into shorts, vans and a hoodie now. He looked very cosy and loveable. You loved him in his comfortable clothes, especially because it makes hugging him cosier.
Harry stopped to take out his phone and take a photo of you on the stage, without you knowing. He looked at the photo afterwards, zoomed into you and smiled at how pretty you looked.
He pocketed his phone as he made the rest of the way to you.
“Are you okay?” You asked, worried that he needed you for something.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Was just missing you.” He admitted.
You stopped adding flowers to your bag and watched him walk all the way over to where the archway was in the stage to get through to Johnny’s Place.
You knelt over to him and dangled your face and hands over the edge. Harry reached his hands up and held onto your hands, very careful not to pull you in case you fell.
He smiled when his hands met yours, having missed your touch for the past half an hour.
“Missed you too. Y’look good.” You told him.
“I’m in m’gym clothes, babe!” Harry laughed.
“I know.” You laughed back, squeezing onto his hands.
“Put m’best clothes on for you.”
He let go of your hands then, terrified he might accidentally pull you if he wasn’t concentrating.
“Are you sure you’re okay, though?”
“Yes babe. I’m sure.” Harry smiled at how thorough your concern was. “Gimme a minute.”
Harry shuffled along the floor and ran up some secret stairs to get to you.
You went back to picking through the flowers, to find the best ones for him. There were so many different types of flowers with lots of different colours.
You felt him come up behind you before you heard him. His presence was like a warm, comforting, blanket over you.
“What’re you doing, love?” Harry asked over your shoulder, crouching down.
You turned your head to see him, his face only inches away from yours. You smiled at him, giving him a quick peck before replying.
“Collecting these flowers.”
“Why?” Harry went in for another kiss, because he can’t keep his distance from you. Then he kissed you again because he can’t keep his lips away from yours after just one taste.
“Because I want to make you a gift and you’ll ruin it if you keep asking questions.” You turned your head away from him and secured all the flowers in the bag.
Harry moved behind you as you did so.
“Y/N?” He said softly.
“Yeah?” You turned around, to find Harry with a flower in his hands.
A pretty pink flower that matched your dress. He had snapped the flower from the stalk. He reached the flower up to being your ear, tucking it there so it would stay.
You blushed as he did so, smiling so widely as he loved on you in his own way.
“I love you.” He said.
“Do you?” You pretended like you didn’t already know.
“Yeah. Very much so. Sing all m’songs about you, don’t I?”
“What? Even Love of My Life?” You questioned, turning to sit cross legged on the floor so you could face him. Harry still crouched, probably comfortable from all the pilates. “Where you’re singing about how I was the love of your life?”
“Shut up. You know why I wrote that song.” Harry replied quietly.
You did know.
It was when you and Harry had gone on a break because the distance between you was too much. He wrote the song, sent it to you to ask whether it was okay if he put it on his new album he was creating, only for you to come knocking on his door the next day, teary eyed, demanding an explanation.
You’d talked for hours and hours that night until you decided you had something worth fighting for.
“I do. Sorry, H baby.” You cupped his cheek with your hand and rubbed over his soft skin.
“It’s okay. Only because we’re okay.” He smiled at you.
You lay down then, still a few flowers surrounding you underneath.
Harry then came and lay down beside you, close enough to interlock his hand closest to you with yours. You turned to smile at him, only to realise he was busy admiring the moon high up above Wembley.
The stars were out and shining for him. The moon beaming down on the both of you.
“She’s so pretty.” Harry said, talking about the moon.
“Prettier than me?” You teased.
“Nobody’s prettier than you, love.”
You were silent for a few moments, both of you just admiring the still and silence. It’s hard to believe this place was filled with over ninety thousand people a couple hours ago.
You’d come to realise that Lloyd snapped a photo of the two of you like this and it quickly became your favourite photo with each other. Holding hands, laying amongst the flowers, gazing at the beautiful moon.
“Harry?”
“Hmm?”
“Can I tell you something?”
“Anything.” He squeezed your hand.
“Sometimes, when we’re apart, like you’re in LA and I’m in London, I look up at the moon and remember that it’s looking back down at you too. Like she’s watching over both of us simultaneously. It’s comforting, knowing we’re small enough in this expensive universe to be closer than we realise. Don’t you think?”
Harry didn’t reply and you wondered maybe he just didn’t get it?
You turned to look at him and he was already looking at you, stars now reflecting in his eyes.
“It’s cool if you don’t think that. I mean, like…”
“Y/N?”
“Yeah?”
“Marry me.” He smiled so widely.
“Wha–”
“Marry me. Please.” He repeated himself, sitting up to pull something out of his pocket. He pulled out a small, dainty, engagement ring - one that you recognised from Anne’s collection. “Marry me and just be with me. Always. I know marriage doesn’t change who we are or how we love each other, but I just want to make you a little bit more mine. I’m always going to pick you. You are the love of my life. Choose me? Because I choose you.”
You didn’t realise you were crying until Harry was going slightly blurry in your vision
“Yes,” You whispered, “Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” You shouted more and more loudly.
You sat and reached up up to grab his cheeks for a kiss. He wasn’t ready for it, but quickly found his rhythm against you. He kissed you so lovingly and you gave him all of you in return.
He pulled away, red lipped and slightly breathless.
“Let me put this on you.”
He held you hand shakily and your own hand was shaking. He slipped the perfect ring on and you smiled with so much happiness.
“Harry, it’s gorgeous.”
“Mum gave it to me. She gave it to me the moment we went on a break and I knew that I’d screwed up. She gave it to me, making me promise that I’d work hard to earn you back and marry the one person who I’d ever fully loved.”
“You’ve been carrying it around all this time?” You asked in disbelief.
“Always knew I was going to ask you. It was just a matter of when.”
ignore the account it was on my explore page but my brain went to an entire concept when I saw it…it’s giving you flying in to see him on tour and land mid day before a show. You settle into the room while Harry’s off working out. After a bit he’d text you that he’s hanging out in this lobby area of the hotel and to go meet him. When you walk in you hug his friends and say your hellos, and then you immediately go into his lap and give him the biggest hug😔😔 you’ve missed each other so much but you aren’t the pda couple, so you keep it to a quick peck in the moment. For another half hour or so you’re just cuddled into his side catching up with him and his friends. He’s subtly drawing his fingers up and down your arm just itching for more of you😔 After a bit they’d leave to go get ready for the venue, and you finally have your alone time😔 you’d look up at him and say “hi” and he’d just grab your face and kiss you so hard and deep😔 he’s asking how the flight was, saying how much he missed you. You’re running your fingers at the back of his neck. Sitting there chatting for some time before you both decide to go get ready to leave for the show😔😔
NOOOOOOOOOONONOONONONONOONO OH MY GOD IM GONNA CRY THIS IS SO SWEEEEET PLEASEEEEEEE 😔😔😔
It is Harry’s birthday, and Y/N is doing everything she can to keep the surprise she planned from slipping out before the big moment.
📝 word count: 5.4k
⚠️ content warning: none. super wholesome.
Harry has always been unfairly good at making ordinary days feel important.
Not in the over the top, cameras and candles everywhere kind of way. It is quieter than that. More dangerous, almost, because it sneaks up on her. Notes tucked into her bag that she does not find until hours later. Her favorite snack appearing on the counter after she casually mentioned craving it once. Playlists sent at the exact moment she needs them, no explanation attached.
Last year on her birthday he woke up before her, slipped out of bed, and came back with coffee and a croissant with a single candle stuck in the middle because he could not find the actual birthday candles. He sang to her in a sleepy voice, hair a mess, grin crooked. She laughed so hard she almost cried.
And he just shrugged like it was nothing. Like making her feel special was as natural as breathing.
Which is why she is standing in her kitchen now, staring at a blank notebook page titled Harry’s birthday, feeling a determined little knot in her chest.
This is her turn.
He has never asked for much on his birthdays. If anything, he dodges the attention. Says he does not need a fuss. But she has noticed the way he lingers on small thoughtful things. The way he keeps old cards. The way he smiles softer when something feels personal.
So she is not planning a spectacle. She is planning a feeling.
Her phone is plugged in beside a mixing bowl, screen lit up to a group chat she created a week ago. Nothing suspicious in the name. Just a cake emoji and a balloon. Innocent enough if he ever glanced at it.
She smooths a hand over her hair and starts typing.
Y/N:
Hi!! I hope this is okay. I wanted to ask a few things about Harry’s birthdays growing up.
The read receipts appear almost immediately.
Y/N:
I am planning something small for him and I want to get the details right.
What cake did he always ask for as a kid?
A bubble pops up from Gemma.
Gemma:
Chocolate fudge. Every single year. He was very loyal to it.
Another message follows right after.
Gemma:
Mum tried to switch it once and he acted personally betrayed.
Y/N laughs quietly, picturing a younger Harry being dramatic over cake. She writes chocolate fudge in her notebook, circling it.
Y/N:
That is actually adorable.
Did he like anything specific on it?
Anne replies this time.
Anne:
Very thick icing. The overly sweet kind.
And lots of candles. He loved blowing them out.
Then another message.
Anne:
He always made a serious wish. Eyes closed and everything. Would never tell us what it was.
Y/N’s expression softens. She writes thick icing and lots of candles, then adds serious wish in the margin like a secret note.
Y/N:
This is so helpful thank you.
I want it to feel familiar for him. Not just pretty.
Gemma:
He will be touched you even asked.
Y/N glances around her kitchen. Ribbon samples spread across the table. Two different candle packs because she could not choose. A bakery website open on her laptop with three chocolate fudge options pulled up.
Her nerves hum under her skin, but it is the good kind. The kind that comes from caring too much.
She types again.
Y/N:
Who would you say he feels happiest having around on his birthday?
I am keeping it small. Just his people.
Gemma sends a short list of names. Close friends. Family. People Y/N has heard him talk about with warmth in his voice.
Anne:
Small is perfect for him. He enjoys it more when it is relaxed.
Y/N nods to herself like they can see her.
Y/N:
That is exactly what I want.
Just a room where he feels loved.
There is a brief pause before Anne replies.
Anne:
Thank you for doing this for him.
Y/N’s chest tightens a little.
Y/N:
He does this for me all the time.
It is my turn.
Right then her phone buzzes with a new message. Not from the chat.
From Harry.
Harry:
What are you up to today?
Her eyes flick to the half hidden decoration box by the wall. She quickly types.
Y/N:
Just cleaning and running errands.
Nothing exciting.
Harry:
Sounds suspiciously productive.
Miss you.
A smile pulls at her lips.
Y/N:
You would be bored here.
Go do your rockstar things.
Harry:
My rockstar things are not that fun without you.
I will see you later?
Y/N:
Of course. Later.
She sets her phone down before he can ask more. Before she slips and ruins the surprise.
Then she looks around at the lists, the cake research, the tiny details she has been collecting about him like puzzle pieces.
He makes her feel special without even trying.
So she is going to try. Really try.
And if she gets it right, maybe when he closes his eyes to make that birthday wish this year, he will already have what he wants.
The morning of his birthday starts too early for Y/N.
Her eyes open before her alarm, mind already running through a checklist. For a second she just lies there, staring at the ceiling, heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and nerves.
Today is the day.
Her phone is on her nightstand, already full of notifications from the group chat. She grabs it and scrolls.
Gemma:
Do you need me to bring anything?
Y/N:
You being there is enough but maybe grab ice on the way later?
I am weirdly paranoid about running out.
Gemma:
Noted. Operation Birthday Boy is underway.
A message from Anne sits just below.
Anne:
Good morning dear. Let me know what time to arrive.
And please do not stress yourself.
Y/N smiles softly at that.
Y/N:
Come around six. He should be here at seven.
And I am trying not to stress but no promises.
She finally gets out of bed and the reality of the day hits her all at once.
Her living room is half transformed. Boxes of decorations tucked behind furniture. A folded banner hidden under a blanket. Polaroids she printed of little moments between them stacked neatly on the table, waiting to be hung.
It is going to be perfect.
It has to be.
Her first task is the cake.
She drives to the bakery mid morning, repeating chocolate fudge with thick icing in her head like a mantra. The bell above the bakery door jingles when she walks in, the smell of sugar and cocoa wrapping around her instantly.
The woman behind the counter smiles.
“Pickup?”
“Yes, for Y/N,” she says, trying to sound calm.
The box comes out. White. Simple. Tied with a ribbon.
Y/N’s stomach flips as she lifts the lid just a little.
Chocolate. Thick swirls of icing. Candles packaged neatly on the side.
Then she sees the writing.
Happy Birthday Henry
She blinks.
“…I am so sorry,” the baker says quickly. “We must have mixed the name from another order. We can fix it.”
Y/N laughs, but it comes out thin.
“It is okay. It just needs to say Harry.”
Fifteen extra minutes. That is all it takes to fix. Fifteen minutes she did not plan for.
By the time she gets back to her car, her phone lights up.
Harry:
Morning birthday to me.
What are you doing today?
Her pulse jumps. She quickly types back.
Y/N:
Working a bit and then probably relaxing.
What about you?
Harry:
Got a few things earlier but I might be done sooner than I thought.
Sooner.
That word lodges itself in her brain.
Y/N:
Oh nice. Productive birthday.
Harry:
Maybe I will come by later?
If you are not busy.
Her eyes widen. No. No no no.
Y/N:
Today might be messy for me actually.
Rain check till tonight?
A pause.
Then:
Harry:
Mysterious.
Alright. Tonight then.
She exhales so deeply she almost laughs. Crisis barely avoided.
Back at her place, the clock feels like it is moving twice as fast. She tapes streamers that refuse to stay. One side droops. She fixes it. The other falls. The banner is crooked no matter how many times she adjusts it.
Her phone buzzes again.
A friend:
Running 20 minutes late. Traffic.
Another:
Is six still good?
Another:
Do you need drinks?
Every message feels like another spinning plate she has to keep from crashing.
By mid afternoon, there is frosting on her sleeve, tape stuck to her fingers, and a tiny knot of panic forming in her chest.
This was supposed to be simple. Thoughtful. Easy.
Instead it feels like trying to hold together a dozen little details that all want to slip.
She looks around at the half finished decorations, the cake box on the counter, the carefully planned pieces of love she has built for him.
And quietly, to herself, she says,
“It is okay. He is worth a little chaos.”
And she keeps going.
By noon, Y/N realizes the hardest part of the surprise is not the cake or the decorations.
It is him.
Harry is perceptive in that quiet way. He notices tone changes. Gaps in replies. The way she types when she is distracted. If she goes too quiet, he will know something is up. If she is too cheerful, he will also know.
So she builds a plan.
Act normal. Text like usual. Complain about something small. Keep the rhythm of the day the same.
Her phone lights up while she is untangling a string of fairy lights.
Harry:
How is your day going?
She takes a second before answering, thumbs moving carefully.
Y/N:
Honestly?
Kind of rough.
The typing bubble appears almost instantly.
Harry:
Rough how?
She bites her lip, then commits.
Y/N:
I got my period and it is being evil.
Like the kind where you question your life choices.
A few seconds pass.
Harry:
Oh no.
Do you need anything?
Y/N:
A new uterus maybe.
But I will survive.
He sends a sympathetic reply.
Harry:
You should be resting then, not doing errands.
Y/N smiles to herself. Perfect. He sounds convinced.
Y/N:
I am mostly just at home.
Heating pad and dramatic sighs.
She actually is standing on a chair trying to tape a banner straight, but the image she paints is much calmer.
Harry:
I would bring you chocolate if I could.
Her chest warms at that, even as she steps down and fixes a corner of the sign.
Y/N:
You can make it up to me by choosing dinner.
What do you want tonight?
There is a pause long enough that she wonders if he got busy.
Then:
Harry:
You do not have to do dinner if you feel bad.
Y/N:
I know. I want to.
Just something easy.
He thinks about food the way he thinks about most things, slowly and seriously.
Harry:
Maybe pasta?
Or takeout. Whatever is easiest for you.
Y/N:
Pasta I can do.
Comfort food day.
Harry:
You are too good to me.
She glances at the clock. Too good and currently running ten minutes behind schedule.
Y/N:
Only on your birthday.
Harry:
So I get special treatment today?
Y/N:
Do not get used to it.
He sends a laughing reply and a heart, simple and unassuming.
Meanwhile her living room looks less simple by the second. Polaroids are clipped to a string across the wall now, tiny snapshots of them. Blurry selfies. A photo of their coffee cups from a random Tuesday. A picture of him laughing mid sentence that she secretly loves.
Every detail is a quiet I see you.
Her phone buzzes again while she is arranging candles.
Harry:
What are you up to right now?
Her eyes dart to the mess around her.
Y/N:
Curled up on the couch.
Trying to convince my body not to be dramatic.
She is actually kneeling on the floor surrounded by wrapping paper, but he does not need to know that.
Harry:
I wish I was there.
I would rub your back.
That one makes her soften for a second.
Y/N:
Later you can.
If you still want to.
Harry:
I will.
Text me if you need anything before then.
She sets her phone down, heart thumping a little.
He has no idea.
No idea that his mom will be here. That his sister is already on standby. That a chocolate fudge cake with too sweet icing is sitting in her kitchen with his name finally written right across it.
No idea that this whole day is being stitched together quietly for him.
She looks around at the half chaos, half magic of her apartment and exhales.
“Okay,” she murmurs to herself.
“Still on track.”
For now.
By late afternoon, Y/N’s apartment no longer looks like her apartment.
It looks like a version of it that is trying very hard to be festive but also calm. Streamers hang in soft colors she picked because they felt like him. Not loud, not flashy. Just warm. Fairy lights glow along the wall even though the sun is still up. The polaroids are finally clipped in place, a quiet timeline of little memories.
She has changed outfits twice already. The first was too dressy. The second felt too casual. She settles on something in between, something he once said she looked pretty in without realizing he was giving her a reason to keep it forever.
Her phone is practically glued to her hand now.
The group chat is alive.
Y/N:
Okay important parking instructions
Please do NOT park in front of my building
A few seconds later she adds:
Y/N:
He is too observant and will absolutely clock random cars
Gemma:
Where should we go then?
Y/N:
There is a parking garage half a block down
Or street parking around the corner
Just not directly outside
Friend:
On it. Secret agent mode.
Another message pops up.
Anne:
We are leaving soon dear.
Do you need me to bring anything?
Y/N:
Just you
And maybe help me not spiral if I start to
Anne:
You are doing wonderfully already.
Y/N smiles but her stomach is in knots.
Someone buzzes her building door early. Too early. She hurries to the intercom.
“It is just me,” one of his friends says. “I can circle if needed.”
“No no you are fine,” she says quickly. “Just come up and be quiet.”
Quiet. As if this whole plan is not built on the edge of chaos.
Soon her apartment starts filling in small, careful ways. Coats placed down gently. Voices hushed. People peeking at decorations and smiling at her like she has done something impressive.
But the little things keep piling up.
The extra candles she bought are missing. She finds them still in the car. She runs down and back up, slightly out of breath.
The banner starts peeling off one side again. Tape. More tape. Why does tape never work when you need it to.
The pasta she planned for later sits half prepped on the counter. She still has to finish it so the story she told him stays believable.
Her phone buzzes.
Harry.
Her heart jumps.
Harry:
How is my favorite patient doing?
She types while adjusting a crooked photo.
Y/N:
Alive
Barely
Harry:
Still feeling bad?
Y/N:
A little
But I will survive
Then, before she can lock her phone, another message comes through.
Harry:
I might head your way soon.
Her fingers freeze.
Soon?
Y/N:
I thought you had things till later?
A typing bubble appears. Stops. Appears again.
Harry:
Got done quicker
But I need to make a stop first
Then I will come by
Her eyes flick to the clock.
He is early.
Too early.
Y/N:
What kind of stop?
Harry:
Just a quick thing
Nothing exciting
Nothing exciting to him maybe.
A disaster to her.
Y/N:
Okay
Just text me before you leave there
Harry:
Will do
She lowers her phone slowly, like it might explode.
“He is coming early,” she whispers to the room.
Every head turns.
“How early?” Gemma asks.
“I do not know yet,” Y/N says, already moving. “But everyone needs to be ready. Like actually ready.”
Suddenly it is motion everywhere.
Someone dims the lights to test them. Someone else helps fix the banner. His mom gently moves the cake box to the safest corner of the counter.
Y/N walks in a small circle, mentally checking everything again.
Decorations
Cake
Candles
People
Music playlist ready
Her phone buzzes again in her hand.
Harry:
Leaving my stop in a bit
Her pulse thumps in her ears.
Everything is almost in place.
Almost.
And almost feels terrifying.
She looks around at the room full of people who love him, at the cake chosen from his childhood memories, at the tiny details built just for him.
Then she whispers to herself,
“Please just hold together a little longer.”
The apartment settles into that strange, tense quiet that only happens before a surprise.
Lights dimmed. Music queued but paused. People tucked just out of sight in the living room and kitchen, pressed behind walls and furniture like a group of very excited children trying to be subtle.
Y/N stands near the door, phone clutched in her hand, listening to the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears.
Every little noise feels loud. The hum of the fridge. A quiet whisper. Someone’s shoe scuffing the floor.
Her phone buzzes.
Harry:
Heading to the car now
Her throat goes dry.
Y/N:
Okay
Drive safe
She turns to everyone and mouths, “He is on the way.”
A ripple of movement follows. People straighten. Someone almost knocks into a chair and then catches it. Gemma gives Y/N a small reassuring smile.
Ten minutes pass.
Then fifteen.
Each one stretches forever.
Then her phone lights up again.
Harry:
I am here
Her stomach flips.
Here here.
She rushes to the door and hits the buzzer to let him in, then spins back to the room, whispering urgently.
“Okay everyone ready. Stay quiet till he is fully in. Like fully in.”
Nods all around. Grins. Anticipation.
She moves fast, doing one last sweep. Cake in place. Candles nearby. Lights set.
Then she hears it.
The elevator.
The soft mechanical ding down the hall.
Her pulse jumps into her throat.
“Positions,” she whispers.
She steps back toward the entryway, trying to look casual, trying to look like a girl having a normal, low key, period day like she claimed.
The lock clicks.
The door starts to open.
She turns her head to whisper one last “wait” to everyone behind her.
That is when he walks in.
And he is already halfway through the doorway.
There is no dramatic pause. No clueless expression.
He walks in like he always does, pushing the door closed with his foot because both of his hands are full.
In one arm is a bouquet of flowers. Not random ones either. Her favorites. Soft colors, the kind she once pointed out in passing at a market weeks ago.
In the other hand is a small paper bag and a chocolate bar balanced against it.
He looks up at her immediately, eyes warm and a little concerned.
“I come bearing supplies,” he says gently.
Her brain short circuits for half a second.
She looks down.
The paper bag is very clearly from a pharmacy. The top is folded but not enough to hide what is inside.
Tampons.
Chocolate.
Flowers.
Her mouth actually parts a little.
“You said you were suffering,” he adds, like this is the most obvious thing in the world. “Thought I would help.”
Behind her, thirty seconds away, is a room full of people holding their breath.
In front of her is him, sweet and completely unsuspecting, hair a little messy from the wind, looking at her like she is the only thing that matters in the room.
For a split second she forgets the plan entirely.
“You did not have to do that,” she says softly.
He shrugs, stepping closer, holding the flowers out to her.
“Course I did. It is your terrible day.”
Her heart squeezes so hard it almost hurts.
From the living room there is the faintest sound. A tiny shuffle. Someone adjusting their stance.
His eyes flick past her shoulder for half a second.
Suspicion almost sparks.
Y/N reacts on instinct. She steps forward quickly, taking the flowers, gently grabbing his wrist.
“Wait,” she says. “Do not take your shoes off yet.”
He blinks, confused. “Why?”
Her mind scrambles for half a lie.
“I, um, just cleaned and the floor is still a little wet.”
He glances down automatically.
That buys her maybe five seconds.
Five seconds to turn, wide eyed, and silently signal everyone to be ready.
Five seconds before he looks back up.
“You are acting weird,” he says lightly, a small smile tugging at his mouth.
Weird but cute. Not suspicious yet.
Not fully.
Not until he takes one more step in.
He is still looking at her with that curious little smile, head tilted slightly like he is trying to piece together a puzzle.
“You are acting strange,” he says, voice light. “First you ban me from coming over, then you claim you are dying, now I cannot even step on your floor.”
Y/N lets out a nervous laugh that is only half acting.
“I am not dying,” she says. “I am being dramatic.”
“That is my line,” he replies easily.
Behind her, the apartment is so quiet it feels staged. Because it is.
She still has the bouquet in her hands, fingers gripping the stems a little too tight. Her heart is racing now for a different reason. The good one. The here we go one.
He shifts the paper bag in his hand. “Can I at least put these down before you give me my next rule?”
This is it.
It has to be now.
She steps back slowly, giving him space to walk in.
“Okay,” she says. “You can come in.”
He raises a brow like he has just won something. Then he steps forward, finally crossing fully into the apartment.
Two more steps.
One glance to the side.
He notices the lights first. Dimmer than usual. The faint glow of fairy lights along the wall.
Then the polaroids.
Little snapshots clipped in a line.
His smile starts to shift, confusion mixing in.
He turns back to her. “What is all this?”
And that is when the room erupts.
“Surprise!”
The lights flick on brighter. People step out from their hiding spots. Familiar faces. Friends. His mum. Gemma. All grinning, some already laughing at his expression.
He actually startles, shoulders jumping a little. His eyes go wide in real shock, hand flying to his chest.
“Oh my—” he cuts himself off with a breathy laugh. “You are joking.”
His gaze sweeps the room, landing on each person like he is making sure they are real. Then it lands back on Y/N.
Realization clicks into place.
He squints at her playfully. “You.”
She tries to look innocent. Fails completely.
“You have been lying to me all day,” he says, but he is smiling now, warmth all over his face. “The period, the suffering, the mysterious behavior.”
He lifts the little pharmacy bag. “And I showed up with emergency supplies like a fool.”
The room laughs.
Y/N covers her face for a second, laughing too. “You are not a fool. That was very sweet.”
He shakes his head, amused. “I was wondering why you would not let me come over. Thought I was in trouble.”
Then he looks around again. At the cake on the counter. At the decorations. At the people who came just for him.
His expression softens in that quiet way he gets when something actually hits him.
“All this… for me?”
His mum answers gently from across the room, “Of course for you.”
He exhales a small laugh, almost disbelieving, then walks straight to Y/N.
The flowers are still in her hands when he reaches her. He sets the chocolate and bag on the table beside them and pulls her into a hug with one arm.
“You are unbelievable,” he murmurs near her ear. “In the best way.”
She hugs him back, heart finally settling now that the secret is out.
“Happy birthday,” she says softly.
He leans back just enough to look at her. “Now it all makes sense. You have been weird for weeks.”
“Weeks?” she repeats.
“You hid your phone from me yesterday,” he says. “I noticed.”
She gasps. “You were not supposed to notice that.”
“I notice everything,” he replies smugly.
Then he smiles again, bright and real, the kind that reaches his eyes.
“And I love it.”
Behind them someone starts lighting candles. Someone else puts on music. The room fills with chatter and warmth.
But for a second, in the middle of it, he just looks at her like she gave him something bigger than a party.
Like she gave him a memory.
The party finds its rhythm quickly.
Music hums in the background, low and warm. Someone is laughing near the kitchen. His mum is telling a story from when he was little that has everyone grinning while he shakes his head in playful embarrassment. The cake has been admired at least five times already, though the candles are still waiting.
Harry moves easily through it all. Hugging people. Thanking them. Smiling in that soft, genuine way he gets when he feels comfortable.
But every so often, his eyes find Y/N across the room.
Like a quiet check in.
Like she is the anchor in the middle of it.
Y/N is by the counter pretending to fix the stack of plates for the third time when she feels it. Hands sliding gently around her waist from behind. Familiar. Warm.
She does not even have to turn to know it is him.
He tucks in close, chin near her shoulder, voice low enough that it is just for her.
“You really did all this,” he murmurs.
Her breath catches a little. “Maybe.”
His arms tighten slightly around her waist. Not possessive. Just close.
“You are special, you know that?” he says softly.
The noise of the room fades for a second.
“I mean it. No one has ever…” He trails off, then tries again. “No one has ever made my birthday feel like this.”
Her heart squeezes.
“And I love you,” he adds quietly, like it is the simplest truth in the world.
That does it.
She spins in his arms so fast he has to loosen his hold to let her turn. Now she is facing him, hands landing lightly on his chest.
Her expression is half fond, half exasperated.
“I was being so weird,” she says. “Like suspiciously weird. And you still showed up with flowers and chocolate and tampons.”
He laughs, a soft huff through his nose. “You said you were suffering. I panicked.”
“It is your birthday,” she insists. “You are supposed to be the one getting things.”
“And you are supposed to be taken care of when you feel bad,” he replies easily.
She looks up at him for a second, really looks at him. At the sincerity that never feels forced with him. It is just how he is.
“You are too good,” she says.
“So are you,” he counters.
From across the room someone calls his name. Probably about the candles.
He glances over, then back at her, like he does not want to leave the moment yet.
“This is my favorite birthday,” he says quietly. “Already.”
She smiles, warmth blooming in her chest. “You have not even made a wish yet.”
He leans in just a little, voice playful now. “I might not need to.”
Then he presses a quick kiss to her forehead before stepping away toward the cake and the people calling for him.
Y/N stays there for a second, steadying herself against the counter, watching him laugh as someone hands him a lighter for the candles.
All she wanted was to make him feel special.
Somehow, he still found a way to make her feel the same.
By the time the candles are lit, the room glows golden.
Someone dims the lights again and a soft chorus of voices starts up, a little off key, a little loud, but full of love. Harry stands in front of the cake, hands on his hips for a second like he is taking it all in.
Y/N watches from beside his mum, her heart full in that quiet, steady way. This is what she wanted. Not spectacle. Not noise. Just this.
He looks around once more at everyone, then leans down toward the cake. Right before he closes his eyes, his gaze flicks to hers.
Just for a second.
Then he shuts them and makes his wish, serious like they said he always was. No joking, no theatrics. Just a quiet moment between him and whatever he believes listens.
He blows out the candles in one breath. Applause fills the room. Someone cheers. Gemma immediately starts teasing him about getting older.
Cake is cut. Plates passed around. Chocolate fudge and thick icing exactly the way he liked it. He takes one bite and laughs softly, pointing at it.
“This tastes like my childhood,” he says.
Anne looks at Y/N knowingly. Y/N just smiles.
Later, gifts are brought out. Nothing over the top. Thoughtful things. A book he mentioned months ago. A framed photo. A vinyl. He opens each one slowly, actually looking at them, thanking people in that sincere way that never feels rushed.
When he gets to Y/N’s, it is small. Just a box and a card.
He reads the card first. His expression softens in that private way again. He does not read it out loud. Just presses his thumb over the paper for a second before opening the box.
Inside is something simple but personal. Something tied to a memory they share. His smile grows, quiet and real.
“You remember everything,” he says to her.
“Only the important things,” she replies.
Eventually the night winds down. Hugs at the door. Leftover cake packed up. Promises to see each other soon. The apartment slowly returns to something resembling calm.
The fairy lights stay on though. Y/N cannot bring herself to turn them off yet.
When the last guest leaves, the silence feels soft instead of empty.
Harry helps her gather plates, refusing to just sit while she cleans. It is easy with him. Natural. Like they have done this a hundred times.
By the time they are done, it is late. The kind of late where the day finally settles into your bones.
They get ready for bed quietly. The excitement has faded into a warm hum. Y/N changes and slips under the covers first, exhausted in the best way.
A minute later the mattress dips. Harry slides in beside her, warm and familiar. He turns onto his side and, without a word, pulls her gently into him. Her back to his chest, his arm draped over her waist.
For a moment neither of them talks.
Then he murmurs, voice sleepy and sincere, “Thank you for today.”
She laces her fingers with his where his hand rests on her stomach. “Did it feel special?”
He lets out a soft breath. “It felt like me. That is rarer than you think.”
That settles deep in her chest.
“What did you wish for?” she asks quietly.
He hums like he is considering. “If I tell you, it will not come true.”
She smiles into the pillow. “Fair.”
A small pause.
Then he adds softly, “But I will say it already started coming true before I blew out the candles.”
Her heart does a slow, happy flip.
Sleep starts to tug at the edges of them. The day finally catching up.
His grip around her waist loosens just slightly as he drifts, but he never fully lets go.
And Y/N lies there in the dim fairy light glow, thinking maybe the best part of birthdays is not the party or the cake or the gifts.
Maybe it is this.
The quiet after.
The feeling of being chosen in a hundred small ways.
And she falls asleep with that thought, his steady breathing warm at her back, the day ending exactly the way it should.
Okay but can we get a squirting blurb cause.. 🫣🏃🏻♀️
i gotcha, babe 😏 thanks for giving me an excuse to look at pictures of Harry Styles wet
One More? - A Harry Styles Smutty Blurb
Masterlist
Summary: After a long night, you ask Harry for just one more
822 words
C/W: smut, mention of fingering (f receiving), use of a vibrator, squirting, overstimulation (kinda not really)
“Oooooh fuuuck,” you groan, your orgasm riding out its final waves, crashing against your body. You slump back against Harry’s chest, panting for breath until you feel your body begin to tingle back to life. “One more?” you ask, your voice wobbly and tired.
“Insatiable, aren’t you?” Harry chuckles into your ear. He slips his fingers out of you, sucking them clean of your arousal. “Wasn’t that your third one, already?”
“Please, please,” you beg, “just one more? One more, please?” You tug on his arm, trying to redirect him towards your weeping pussy. “I want it so bad, please.”
Harry doesn’t give in right away, enjoying watching your naked body writhe with distressed need. Getting you to this stage, this degree of wild desperation for your carnal desires, was one of his favorite things. One orgasm was satisfactory, two was fantastic, but after the third in a row, you turned into a weak-limbed, cock-dumb thing, pawing at him for more, more, more.
Brushing your hair with his hand, he shushes you. “It's okay, baby, you can have it. But my poor fingers need a break.” You start to whine, but he quickly reassures you. “You're okay, you're okay, we just have to get creative.” Harry kisses your head before leaning over to the nightstand, opening the drawer full of toys and pulling out the new vibrator he bought last week. “Wanna try something new?” he asks, shaking the device in front of you enticingly.
“Yeah, yeah, please, give me, please.” Without his touch, you had closed your legs, clenching your thighs together, attempting to create any kind of friction between yourself. At his offer, your legs open automatically, obedient to anything he suggests. Gripping your leg, Harry lifts it over his own, then does the same to the other, widening you further.
He turns the vibrator on and the sound makes your cunt tense in anticipation. Harry presses the bulbous head on the edge of your lips, teasing and prepping you at the same time. Your eyes slam shut, closing off your sight, heightening your other senses. You can feel Harry’s bated breath against your back, the tremor of his hand against your thigh, the heat from his hard cock against your ass. He’s restless, wanting to watch you fall apart all over again.
Then you feel the vibration travel until it’s pressed firmly against your clit, and it already feels like too much. High-pitched whimpers turn into drawn out cries, mumbles of Harry’s name spilling out of you.
“That’s it, baby. How does that feel?”
“So good.” The words come out so fast it sounds like one word. “S-so, so good.”
Harry hums approvingly in your ear. His unoccupied hand threads into yours, holding it against your pounding heart. “Give me a squeeze when you’re about to come, okay?” It takes a while for his words to process through your rattled brain, a while before you can nod in agreement.
You feel the vibrations throughout your whole body, your toes curling, fingers wiggling, shimmying as much as you can while trapped between Harry’s legs.
Harry nudges your hair aside with his nose, kissing up your shoulder until he finds that tender spot on your neck. He knows he’s found it when you gasp at the brush of his lips across it. Latching on, biting and sucking on the skin, coloring your neck in bruises, you turn into putty beneath him.
Pressure builds up inside of you, that familiar rise of tension, but this time, it feels bigger, heavier. Harry slips the vibrator back and forth across your bud, slow at first, then sharper and faster before letting up and pressing the device harder against you.
“Oh Harry, Har, Harry, oh fuck,” you babble hopelessly. That feeling in your stomach pulses, demanding to be set free. You crush Harry’s hand, signaling your impending release.
That’s when Harry presses a button, accelerating the quivering toy. The quicker pace surprises you, gasping before letting go with a scream of pleasure. Your orgasm wipes you out, knocking over you, and the continued vibrations on your clit keeps it going longer. Gushing out of you, your arousal squirts out, wetting the bedding underneath you. Another stream spurts out of you before you shove the vibrator away, one last contraction forcing out more wetness from your soaking pussy. You slump back, collapsing further into Harry’s chest, completely spent after the harshest orgasm you’ve ever experienced. A shiver overwhelms you as a drop of your come drips down your pussy, leaving an icy trail on your skin as it slides down onto the sheet.
“Holy shit, love,” Harry exclaims, in awe of the soaked spots. His fingers trace the pattern you created, revering it like artwork. “One more?” he asks.
You laugh through your pants, your eyelids fluttering open. “Who’s the insatiable one, now?”
“It’s your fault. I want to see if you can do that again.”
summary: you go on ELLE Magazine’s ‘phoning it in’ segment to prank call some of your friends, but how does harry, your fiancée, react to you prank calling him?
pairing: current!harrystyles x fem!reader
a/n: i literally wrote this in like an hour so it might suck BUT i needed to bring this to life! i loooove phoning it in, so i was cheesing the entire time i wrote this omg. lmk yalls thoughts and if anyone has ideas lmk🫰🥹
word count: 1.8k
the lights are bright on Elle Magazine’s “Phoning it in” set.
there’s faint music playing from an overhead speaker that drowns out the sound of the hum from the lights and shoes squeaking against the shiny floor every once in a while.
you’re currently sat on the little white seat your friends have sat in as your hair and makeup team give you some last minute touch ups in between the phone calls.
as you sit there, you open instagram to watch videos of harry’s opening night in wembley stadium, biting the tip of your pastel colored nail when you see his outfit, before eventually closing out of the app and going back to being present in the moment with the rest of the crew.
when you set your phone down, you giggle at your friend’s reactions to your prank calling
the energy on set is great.
everyone’s been so sweet to you ever since you walked into the large studio, and you can tell everyone genuinely loves working here.
there’s girls talking and looking at what’s probably a schedule on an ipad, the camera operator making small adjustments, your assistant silently keeping an eye out to make sure everything runs smoothly, and other staff that just want to see the prank calls unravel.
you’ve fallen victim to being prank called by some of your friends before, so you were very excited to be doing the pranks and finally not getting the burnt end of the stick.
so far, you’ve called suki waterhouse, asking if you can go grocery shopping in her fridge since you left your wallet at home and need food for a party you’re hosting, charli xcx, asking for tips as you want to seriously start a DJ career,
though charli saw through your shit immediately.
“babe you’ve never been into djing like that, why are you being weird? are you doing that damn elle prank call thing?”
your manager, saying that you want to quit acting, rachel sennot, saying that you hit her costar josh hutcherson with your car while trying to make a U-Turn, and now you’re about to call harry.
you and harry got engaged 4 months ago, after having been together since 2022, you both decided the time was right, despite his tour lasting for the rest of the year. unfortunate for you, since you miss him.
but! you’re due to join him in the next few days, so you’re just finishing up some last minute interviews here in LA as promo for your most recent project. after this, your schedule is completely free to see harry on tour until december.
harry knows you’re here, because you mistakenly told him a few nights ago, so you really need to focus and put your acting skills to use.
that oscar nomination last award show season wasn’t for nothing
that’s why, you’re flipping through the small notebook filled with potential pranks trying to find the perfect prank to pull on him. if you say something too big, he’s not going to believe it, but you also want a reaction out of him.
ask him to join love island with you?
no
tell him you crashed your car and now you’re hanging off a cliff?
waaay to extreme
ask him if you can collab with him on a song?…
we all know harry doesn’t do collabs.
ever.
so, when you show it to your team, and when they all start giggling, imagining harry’s reaction and knowing damn well you can’t sing, you know that’s the one.
your eyes drift towards the time in the top left corner of your phone
2:19 pm LA time
so it’s 10:19 pm for harry in london, you think, quickly thinking of the time difference and circumstance
“wait but he just got off stage not too long ago. should i still call?”
your team is walking back to stand behind the camera while you glance around at the people on set asking for their opinion as you trace your tongue along your gums.
you really don’t want to wake him if he’s asleep, but you reeeally want to prank him.
“your call, but it should be fine” you hear your assistant say as she stands off to the side. she’s heard you talk about harry’s schedule so much that she basically has it memorized.
“mmmm, okay” you say to yourself as you think, blotting your lipstick, moving your hair forward, and adjusting your rings as you wait for your cue.
as you wait, you’re smiling and giggling in your seat under the warm lighting like a schoolgirl with a secret as you think of harry’s reaction.
someone behind the camera gives you a countdown and thumbs up after a few minutes, your queue to start, and you immediately put your “customer service” voice, as you call it, on.
“okay so next, i think i’m going to call my fiancée… if he answers ” you say smiling softly to yourself as you unlock your phone. (you take every chance you get to refer to him as your “fiancée”)
you sit there, letting it ring on speaker, expecting to hear, a “hi darling” or a “hi angel” but instead, all you hear is an automated “the mailbox is full and cannot except messages at this time.”
your jaw drops and everyone starts laughing
“guys cut that that’s so embarrassing.”
but you don’t mean it, hell, you’re laughing too
“oh my gosh i can already hear twitter with their ‘he didn’t answer because it’s PR’ bullshit”
it’s inevitable, so can anyone really blame you when your eyes roll and you shake your head with a small smile?
everyone’s giggling, and when you go to text him, your phone buzzes as your contact for harry pops up at the top of the screen, waiting for you to decline or accept his call back.
“he’s calling he’s calling”
the words spill out quickly, like they always do when you get nervous, and you can’t contain the large smile forming on your lips and the laugh coming from your mouth.
everyone immediately quiet’s down and you clear your throat before answering on speaker
“hi baby”
your voice is calm and cool, hiding the fact that you’re 5 seconds away from laughing and ruining the prank
“hi darling, i’m so sorry, i was in the shower. you alright?”
your heart actually melts like an ice cream on a hot day
while looking at the crew, you put a hand on your heart and mouth “aww”
“no baby i’m fine, how was the show? i saw videos, and oh my gosh. 1, you were fantastic, and 2, never stop wearing those sunglasses. you were giving very george michael vibes”
you hear him laugh softly
that laugh that makes you feel like you’re on your guys’ first date again, and it’s very obviously sleepy, but still pushing through to talk to you.
“thank you darling, lambert did good eh? but no, it was great. mum and gem were there, the crowd had fun, and the fireworks went well, thank goodness. i can’t wait to do it again tomorrow”
he exhales softly in relief that it went smoothly, and you can picture him in your head. lights off except for the lamp next to him, his phone laying on the pillow so he doesn’t have to hold it up, and him buried under the hotel duvet
you slump back in your seat, muting yourself before telling everyone
“fuck i love him”
after a second, you sit up and quickly unmute, fidgeting with your necklace
“awww baby that’s so fun, i’m so proud of you. i’m buzzing i can’t wait to go”
you’re smiling so hard that you’re pretty positive that harry can hear it in your voice too
“thank you darling. but what’s up? it’s almost half passed 2 isn’t it? how was elle?”
ever attentive, always asking about you
“elle went good, im home now.”
lie
“but im laying here thinking, and baby i had the best idea ever. like you’re not ready. are you ready? are you listening? oh my gosh wait no pun intended”
you quickly go on mute to laugh freely, and when you do you hear harry laugh at your joke and slightly hesitate,
“go on…what is it?”
he’s definitely more awake now
you unmute and smile
“okay, hear me out. what if we collab on a song together. like just write me a verse, or ill write it im not picky, and it’ll be song of the summer”
the line is quiet
so quiet, in fact, that you have to check that your wifi didn’t go out
“harry? you there?”
“no, no i’m here”
“sooo? what do you think? good idea, right?”
and you know why harry’s hesitating. without sugar coating anything…your voice isn’t the best. but you love to sing.
you sing in the car, in the shower, while making dinner, and even while walking around the house.
you’ve tried to get harry to teach you how to at least hold a note, bless him, but you’re a lost cause
“mmhmm! it’s a great idea darling” he finally sputters out after a minute
“baby….. are you lying?”
the teasing offense in your voice is thick
“no! what? of course not”
“then why is your voice so high? you act like i don’t know you”
you hear rustling, like he’s sitting up in bed
“can i ask what sparked this idea?”
the way he asks is almost as if he’s physically scratching his head as he says it
and you have to take a breath to not laugh
“i don’t know, i just thought it’d be fun. don’t you?”
“no it would..”
“but…?”
“darling are you sure?”
“harry, this would literally go triple platinum”
quickly, you go on mute as harry tries to find his words. trying really hard not to call you a bad singer
you hear him sigh softly, so you unmute before he finally responds
“i mean if you really want to i can call tom and ask to set something up. but darling, are you sure?”
when he asks if your sure for what feels like the 10th time,
you lose it.
you bust out laughing and so does the crew
“oh fuck off” you hear him mumble behind a laugh
“baby i love you! this was for elle’s prank call thing” still in a fit of giggles and satisfaction that it was successful
“oh thank goodness”
his words come out so quickly you barely catch them. which only adds fuel to your laugh
“baby!”
“darling, i love you so much, but…”
“no i know i can’t sing. but you were so cute! look at you, willing to make my dreams come true at the expense of your music catalog!”
“you’re worth more than any music catalog, my love”
you sigh happily, a flush creeping up on your cheeks
“baby i’m on camera” you whine in faux annoyance
“i love you”
“i love you most”
you smile softly, and before you say bye you remember that you were instructed to ask for permission for elle to use his voice
“oh baby, does elle have permission to use your voice/this phone call for their video?”
you ask, smiling as you bite the tip of your nail
“i mean i guess…”
he mumbles quietly, still laughing softly
“no i’m kidding, go for it”
you hold up a thumbs up and nod at the crew
“thanks superstar, i’ll let you go so you can sleep, no more pranks for today. call me when you wake up, yeah?”
“mmhmm, i will. g’night darling. love you, miss you”
and despite his sleepiness, you can still hear him blow a soft kiss
“sleep good, love and miss you too”
and with that, you hang up.
but not before blowing a kiss back
you put your phone away, do the outro they have scripted for you, and thank the crew on the set.
everyone is thanking you, still laughing here and there and ‘aweing’ over yours and harry’s relationship
when you’re finally walking to your car, bags in hand half an hour later, you check your phone for the first time since calling harry
you expect to see emails, random notifications, or texts from people reminding you to do something
but instead of any of that,
you see a new unread text from harry sent 3 minutes after you called him
| if you really want to make a song together, all jokes aside, we can. just let me know. get home safe, love you always, even despite your lack of vocal. xx
You became his sugar baby to survive, but Harry’s possessiveness soon turns into something softer. The black card pays the bills, but it’s the unexpected love that threatens to ruin you both.
TITLE: Baby
PAIRING: Harry Styles x Reader
RATING: Explicit (18+)
STATUS: 10 Parts 🌟 COMPLETED 🌟
WORD COUNT: > 25,000 words
TROPES: Corporate Sugar Daddy / University Student Sugar Baby , Age Gap (45 & 21) , Forced Closeness (The 40-Hour Weekend Rule) , Strict Contracts / NDAs , Size Difference , Wealth Gap , Dominant/Submissive Dynamic , Academic Mentorship
THE VIBE:
Signing a strict NDA for a £15,000 monthly allowance.
"In the bedroom, I want to be obeyed.".
Getting a MacBook Pro because your broken Dell offends him.
Terrifying public jealousy over a young waiter.
Skipping an Aspen ski trip for a vintage typewriter.
Obliterating his elite ex-wife at an art gallery.
Maliciously complying with the contract until he snaps.
"Do you want to get what you paid for?".
A billionaire hiding in Soho out of pure jealousy.
Watching her graduation from a parked Range Rover.
Dropping the penthouse key and shattering a crystal bow
EXCERPT:
"Do you want to talk about poetry, Harry?" she asked, tilting her head. "Or do you want to get what you paid for?"
The words were a slap in the face.
Harry stopped moving. He looked at her naked body, and for the first time in his life, his desire warred with a crushing sense of shame.
"Don't say it like that," he said roughly.
"Like what?" She stepped closer, placing a hand on his chest. Her palm was warm, but her touch felt mechanical. She began to undo his buttons. "You were very clear, Harry. You pay for my time. You pay for my company. I'm just trying to be... efficient."
She pushed his shirt open and leaned in to kiss his neck. It was a practiced move. A move a courtesan would make.
"Y/N, stop," he said, grabbing her wrists.
She looked up, her eyes wide and innocent. "Stop? Is something wrong? Do you want me to do something else?"
"I want you to stop acting like an employee!" he shouted, the frustration finally boiling over.
Y/N didn't flinch. She just looked at him, and a small, sad smile touched her lips.
"But I am an employee, Harry," she whispered. "You fired the girlfriend. Remember?"
Harry stared at her, his chest heaving. He wanted to shake her. He wanted to scream that he hadn't fired the girlfriend, he had just panicked. He wanted to drag her downstairs and make her pasta and dance in the kitchen.
But the ghost of his own words hung between them. I am not your boyfriend.
He couldn't take them back. Not without admitting he was wrong. And Harry Styles did not admit he was wrong.
Summary: you’re Harry’s girlfriend, and you’re meeting Gemma for the first time.
Some pet names used, y/n used once.
Mid june 2012:
You and Harry had been dating for nearly 6 months. Time with him flew by, while also having those slow days at home that felt like eternity. He was a real gentleman in every way, so there was no doubt that your family would adore him just as much as you did. The first time they met he was calm and didn’t display any nervousness, but when it came time for you to meet his family it was a completely different story.
You had already met Anne, his mum, and it went really well. Full of polite smiles and curious conversation. However when it came to meeting his sister you were more jittery than ever, why exactly? No reason at all, nothing negative had ever happened this was just…different. You knew how it was, older siblings making sure younger ones were treated right in relationships.
That’s why you were subtly biting your nails on the way to one of the fancy London cafes they’d picked. And of course he noticed right away, it was a nervous habit of yours.
“You alright?” He said softly, resting his palm on your knee to try and distract from the different scenarios racing through your head.
“Yeah fine” it was a simple reply to try and stop him from pressing further, if you were worried so was he.
“Liar, you’re chewing your fingernails you always do that when somethings up” he wasn’t going to let this go until he got an answer.
“It’s just…what if she doesn’t like me?” It was a completely reasonable worry, especially when it was someone as important as his family.
“She likes everyone, you have to do something seriously wrong for her not to. You’ll be ok honey I’ll be there the whole time” every word he said was reassuring it was always like that.
The car pulled up in front of the cute little cafe, laced with blossoming flowers and happy families. Gemma was sat looking at something on her phone, when Harry broke her from her daze. They exchanged there hellos and then she moved on to you.
“Hey you must be y/n!” Her tone was friendly not judgemental at all.
“Yeah, it’s really nice to meet you” you returned that welcoming lilt in your voice, trying to match the tone of the group.
“He talks about you all the time, and I mean like allll the time!” That shocked you she must already know a lot by now.
“Well only the good stuff I hope!” Your comment was met with a soft laugh from both of them. That was a good sign, the rest of the day went well you had taken a liking to each other. It gave you piece of mind that Harry’s family had excepted you so easily, it gave extra senses of love and acceptance.
This is short and doesn’t have much dialogue cause it’s my first time doing anything like this! But I can write longer ones if anyone ever sees this. This isn’t proof read so there might be a few mistakes. Also there ought be a few words that re repeated loads oops…
In which Harry is hard but Y/N is his soft place to land. People have doubts over her being able to handle the alpha, considering her cashmere and tea like demeanor, but something about it evens out.
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“My Blossom.” The alpha spoke lowly, watching as his mate approached him. Something was wrong- something was bothering her. He could smell it- and he didn’t like it. “Why are you wilted, my love?”
It was his way of asking her why she was upset. Usually, she was upbeat. Chirpy. Cooing and grinning, moving slowly with the air of comfort radiating around her. Warmth was her aura, and people tended to feel it. Even Harry’s closed off demeanor had felt it the first time he had seen her- but today, she seemed to have cooled down.
Her scent was always the first indicator that something was amiss, the sweet honey and jasmine tinged with the smoke of a candle blown out too soon. It was the most obvious alert, but he could see it very clearly. She was trying to act alright, but that precious smile didn’t reach her eyes- and it pissed him off. If it were just a documentary bothering her, having accidentally stepped on a bee, burning a batch of cookies or something he could soothe away with a few purrs, she would say so. Communication was usually never an issue with them.
She didn’t come out and say it, meaning something had pissed her off.
Something he was going to deal with.
“I’m okay, my Moon.” Stepping into his vacinity she was drawn to him like a moth to a flame, hands finding his chest with another weaker smile. Like he wouldn’t see that her eyes weren’t crinkled just the tiniest bit like normal. “It is nothing of importance. I’m fine.”
Of course he didn’t buy it. Pawing at her waist, he backed her up into the counter before lifting her up on to it. His gaze was intense, searching her thoroughly as he tried to get it out of her. There were no marks or bruises on her, no sign of physical pain, so that was something- but an emotional bruise could hurt just as much, if not worse.
His hands settled on her waist possessively, pulling her closer as he towered over her seated form on the countertop. "Look at me." He growled lowly, his eyes searching hers for any sign of deceit. He could smell the lie on her, the faint scent of bitter herbs hiding beneath her usual sweet aroma. Nothing displeased him more than her pain. Emotional, physical, it irritated him more than most would consider rational- but he tried to be, for her benefit. Y/N hated making him upset at all. She did whatever she could to avoid tripping the delicate wire that was his temper. Not because he was ever aggressive with her, but he was quick to satiate his thirst for revenge. An eye for an eye. The preferred method for the mother of the pack was peace, calm, order. The complete opposite, balancing him out. This time, though, he didn’t seem too keen on letting it be brushed under the rug.
"Who upset you?" His tone left no room for argument, his alpha voice rumbling slightly as he demanded answers. The slightly sharp tone was paired with the sweet stroke over her cheek, trying to sooth any sting the tone may have. Harry didn’t want her to feel like he was upset with her, but not knowing what upset the love of his life was infuriating.
“I am alright, Alpha.” She whispered, cupping his face in her hands. “It is simply the wind bringing in the weeds. Soon it will blow over.” Her fingertips scratched slightly over his stubble, letting out a soft little sigh for him. Her sweet, stubborn man. The leader of the pack had to be, and he was born for it- but it was hard to calm the fires he was impulsive to start when it came to her. “I was made aware that some members of our pack simply do not understand our dynamic, my Moon. And that is alright.” It did upset her, though. He could smell that and she knew it, but she also knew his temper. Harry usually was a fair alpha to his pack despite his temper, especially since she had mated with him, and she didn’t want him losing his head over something so trivial.
"Blossom..." He caught her wrist gently but firmly, bringing her hand down from his face to press a kiss against her palm. Her sweet touches only partially distracted him from the rising storm inside. The wolf pressed against his mind, insisting they protect their mate from the unseen threats, pacing like he was locked in a cage. Always a fighter, it had still taken Harry by surprise how bloodthirsty he could become when it came to Y/N.
"You think I won't gut every creature who looked at you wrong today?" The words were a dark whisper against her skin, the alpha tone heavier. Enough to make her let out an almost silent whine as she squirmed just a bit, giving him a look. “No, none of that.” Tapping against her chin, he searched her eyes. “You come in looking wilted and sad. Who has taken your time in the sun, sweet one?” Nudging her nose with his own, he knew it was a dirty play to make her fess up, but she responded to his sweetness. “Hm? Just let me know what was said.”
“Harry.” She sighed, letting her eyes close. “It truly is trivial. I promise. I had just…” Swallowing the lump that had materialized in her throat, she leaned into him and let their forehead press together. The closeness usually helped. “People have been talking… questioning me today, actually. About if I think I will be able to handle you at your worst.” She started off slow, running her hands down his shoulders. Trying to keep him calm, feeling his body tense up as she spoke. His hackles were raised.
“Some of the warriors, they were speaking to me in the great hall. They were warning me of how you are during times of war. In battle. About how you almost went feral, and they said that I seem very… soft.” It didn’t offend her that they thought she was soft because she was. Y/N took pride in it. But softness didn’t equate to being weak. “They had said in passing they had expected you to mate with a fierce warrior. Someone with more bite, who could keep up with you. I suppose it upset me because I am not that. I’ve never wanted to be. I know my strengths, but.. Hearing that some of our pack think we are not well matched? It displeases the soul connection.” To her wolf. It had angered her, and Y/N hated feeling angry. The inky black feeling swirling through her body was not a common one she felt and it was one she wanted to rid herself of.
A low growl rumbled in his chest as he processed her words, his grip tightening slightly on her hips. The audacity of any of the pack to question their bond, to doubt the strength of his gentle mate... Considering the kindess she showed every day? The meals she planned, the baskets she had started to put together for families expecting pups? Did they really not know how badly his nerves needed some calm, some sweetness? Y/N was his match in every sense of the word. The goddess wouldn’t have paired them together if that wasn’t the case. Hearing the surely censored version from her -because she was still being a pack mother and protecting them-, it set his blood aflame with barely contained fury. The disrespect. The disgusting lack of gratitude. It was unfathomable.
"Listen to me very carefully, Blossom." His voice was velvet over steel, each word precisely enunciated while trying to keep it softer for her sake. "Our connection goes far beyond mere strength or fierceness of a warrior. Your fierceness lies in putting up with me.” He tried to soften his tone with a joke but it didn’t really work. The anger was festering and he wanted to know who exactly said it. Most of all, he wanted her to never let those words bother her because none of them knew what he needed. Only she would ever have the slightest clue of what he would need.
“You are my anchor in every storm, my light in the darkest of nights. The only reason I have not set out to find who it is that is spreading this disgusting lie, this delusion that anyone but you would ever be remotely capable of knowing my needs, is because you soothe me. Like your teas do for you, your presence does for my entire being. Wolf and all.” Needing the skin contact, he slipped his hand under her top, feeling the warmth of her back. “Do you see? You understand how I just calmed, just by touching your bare skin?” His voice dropped to a rasp, shaking his head. “They will never know what I need. You, my mate from the stars, are the only thing I will ever need.”
Y/N let out a sigh in response, relaxing a little as he spoke his truth to her. Not once did she doubt that he thought these things, not once did she doubt her connection to him- but it had hurt to hear people think she wasn’t the correct woman for him. That they thought he could do better. Some of it was from obvious jealousy, considering some of the very wolves saying the things were warriors themselves, but it still did not feel good. The alpha female would be the first to admit she was sensitive, she always had been- but it also bothered her to know they doubted their alpha’s bond.
She could see why they’d be jealous. Harry was powerful in every sense of the word. He was handsome, intelligent, strong, able to lead effortlessly. There was nothing about him that would turn off a wolf looking for a mate to protect them and provide the best life- but he was hers. Y/N owned his heart.
His heart ached as he felt her relax against him, her warmth that he adored so much seeping into his hand. He hated that she had to hear such nonsense, hated that it hurt her- lies. Pure and utter shit lies that had him feeling the flames of anger flicking back to his stomach. "I swear to the moon and back, Blossom, no one knows me like you do. You see things in me that I don't even see myself.” His mate would never be able to truly know how much it had shocked him from their first meeting until now, how she could read him. How she knew what he needed at all times, even if he tried to deny it of himself.
“And as for needing someone stronger, fiercer... that is complete shit. They have no idea what you do for me. How you uplift me, keep me strong on your own terms. They don't understand that your gentle strength is the very thing that keeps me grounded."
Harry's voice dropped to a whisper, his breath ghosting over her ear as he pulled her impossibly closer. "You are the shield that guards my feral nature from emerging and becoming everyone’s problem. You saved me from losing myself. You, my love, are the soft melody that soothes the savage beast within me." His instincts urged him to protect her, to hunt down those who dared speak ill of his mate- the mother of the pack, no less. Yet, he held back, knowing she needed gentleness, not brutality. It would be dealt with, no doubt, but she would be put above that. That’s the way it would always remain. "Anyone can battle, but only you can give me peace. Only you can quiet the storm inside me."
As he whispered those words into her ear, he felt her melt into him, her smaller frame pressing against his built one like a puzzle piece. Her scent seemed to wrap around him, sweet honey and jasmine filling his senses- calming the beast within him further. Her breathing hitched slightly, a soft whimper escaping her lips as she nuzzled into his neck, seeking out comfort and reassurance that only he could offer her.
The sound of her soft whimper was music to his ears, the gentle vibrations traveling through his chest as he held her close. He responded with a purr of his own, stroking her back soothingly. His scarred hand rubbed the bare skin with comforting circles as he pressed kisses to her hair. "Hush, my love... my gentle soul. None of that matters. What matters is you and I, our bond, our love. Nothing and no one can ever change that." His voice was a warm blanket, wrapping around her and keeping the chill of doubt at bay.
Harry could feel her frame shaking slightly, not from cold but from the emotional turmoil she had endured today trying to release itself. It infuriated him that anyone had made his angel of a mate feel this way, but he focused on soothing her instead of hunting down the culprits immediately. If this had been before she had worked her magic on him, any other true problem, he would have snapped. Attacked. But his priorities had shifted. "Blossom..." He murmured, his voice low and rumbling, "Look at me, please."
Slowly, she lifted her head, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears as they met his gaze. The sight of her grief pierced his heart like a dagger, his instincts yet again screaming at him to eliminate whatever had caused her distress. But he swallowed his fury, choosing instead to drink in the beauty of her vulnerable expression. "There she is," he whispered, thumb gently wiping away a stray tear that dared to trickle down her soft cheek. "My fierce, tender flower."
He pressed gentle kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, her jawline, and finally her lips- each one a silent promise of his unwavering love and protection. His touch was worship, as if he were praising every contour of her face with his lips. Perhaps he was. It’s what an angelic being like her deserved. Too fucking sweet for the likes of the beasts that tried to steal that sweetness from her. It belonged to him. She belonged to him as he belonged to her, and that was going to be made very clear. Between each kiss, he murmured soothing words against her skin, peppering his own affection in the ways he knew how. How she’d taught him. "You're perfect. Made of the stars. Brave. Mine. Always mine." His hands cradled her face, his calloused thumbs caressing her smooth skin in a soothing rhythm.
He loved her with a power that had previously been unknown to him- and now that he was more than familiar with it? The people who had made her question it were going to find out.
——
When Harry walked into the training ground, they knew immediately. It was a change in the air, like the birds stilling in the trees. Nature knew he was angry. With his broad shoulders back and his expression like stone, it was hard to miss. The harsh lines of his face were accentuated by his jaw ticking slightly. His eyes were dark, almost black, his entire body language screamed "danger". He was silent, deadly, and someone was in for it. No one spoke as he entered, the wolves freezing mid-training. They knew that look.
Each step echoed off of the trees deliberately, measured, as he approached the front of the training grounds. His presence was a storm front, cold and heavy enough that the other wolves began to shift nervously. He didn't need to bark orders, didn't need to raise his voice. The pure menace rolling off him in waves was more than enough. "Who was speaking about my mate?" His voice was quiet in volume, but it cut through the air like a blade.
The group exchanged uneasy looks. None wanted to be the one to answer. They had seen Harry lose his shit before, but never like this. Never so controlled. So dangerously still. It was silent for a while, looks nervously thrown to one another. They knew what he was talking about, but no one wanted to speak out. Not when he looked that angry. It took a few minutes of uncomfortable silence before one of the bravest, or perhaps dumbest, Grace, stepped forward slightly. "Alpha?" She tested the waters carefully. "We were- it was just chatting shit. Teasing. You know how it goes." She tried to laugh it off, but it fell flat. Nothing about this was a joking matter. Multiple people winced at her attempt to try and be casual with the Alpha, but there was nothing they could do.
The forest seemed to echo the unnatural silence as Harry's eyes snapped to her. "So you think she's not good enough?" His voice was deadly soft, head tilting slightly. "You think you have the right to question her worth? To question our bond?" He took a step closer to Grace, towering over her. Not just in physical presence, but in power. His eyes flashed with a primal fury that made her take a step back. "She's the heart of this pack. The very air that we breathe. And you dare to speak ill of her?" His voice rose, reverbing through the trees. "I should rip out your throat for even thinking such things, let alone trying to speak them out loud. Cut out your tongue. I thought you would be able to put pathetic jealousy to the side and embrace having a pack mother, but I overestimated some of you." The other wolves shifted uncomfortably, suddenly very interested in the ground. They knew he was correct. His anger wasn’t misplaced. No alpha took well to their mates being threatened.
"I should line you up and demand the names of anyone whose goal was to make my mate upset. Make you suffer the same amount of days as the tears I’ve cleansed her face of. It’s what anyone deserved after disrespecting not only the pack mother, but the alpha himself. Any disrespect on her is a disrespect to me.” His snarl was deep as he watched them flinch. It pleased him, in a sick way. They should be scared to upset her.
“I think you all have gotten a bit too comfortable with her kindness. I am not as kind as her. I have a penchant for revenge and you all know how I handle that in this pack. I should kill you all for trying to place doubt on my soul tie.” He said after a long moment, his snarling voice returning to that deadly calm. "But I won't. Because she asked me not to. My mate is kind, forgiving. Things I am not. She thinks you're misguided, not malicious."
He looked out at the group, his gaze icy and unforgiving. "But let me make one thing clear. If I ever hear such talk again, if I ever sense even a hint of disrespect towards my mate, the matriarch of this god damn pack? There will be consequences." He paused, letting his words sink in. There was no denying that Harry would make good on his word. He always did.
Harry took one last glance around the circle of startled wolves, ensuring his message had sunk in thoroughly. His stance remained rigid, hands clenched at his sides as he battled the lingering urge to discipline physically, let out the anger. But for his mate's sake, he restrained himself. She was asleep in their bed with swollen eyes, and that simply wouldn’t do. Getting back to her was the priority. "Understood?" He growled, awaiting their confirmation with barely concealed impatience. The weight of his gaze pressed down on them, demanding verbal acknowledgment of the unspoken rules he'd just laid out.
The chorus of “Yes, Alpha.” Wasn’t good enough for his wolf- but it would do for now.
——
As Harry slipped back into their shared room, he moved with a practiced quiet, not wanting to disturb his sleeping mate. The soft moonlight filtering through the closed sheer curtains illuminated her peaceful form, curled up beneath the blankets like a little lump. Her body was turned away from the door, one of his pillows between her arms as she snoozed- most likely to get his scent close. He shouldn’t have had to leave her at all so she had the scent from the source, but it had been a necessary sacrifice.
Quickly shedding his clothes, the fabric rustled softly in the still room as he kicked it to the side. The laundry basket would have to wait for tomorrow. With no shame of his nudity he carefully climbed into bed beside her, slipping under the blankets to share his body heat with her. He inched closer, his larger frame spooning around her smaller one as he placed a few kisses to her bare shoulder.
Rubbing his nose into the crook of her neck, the man took a deep inhale of the purest source of her. The familiar sweet scent of honey and jasmine soothed his frayed nerves, undoing some of the tension that had his bones creaking. There was no cure like the feeling of the one person in the world that was hand plucked by the goddess herself. Nothing could compare. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back flush against his chest as his hand rested over her soft stomach. Even in sleep, she let out a content sigh and wiggled back against him, seeking out his warmth. His hardness pressed against her backside, but he ignored it for now. This moment was about comfort, not lust.
“Where were you?” Well… with her not as asleep as he thought, he let out a hum as he inhaled her scent again. Y/N was sleepy, sure, but her hands rested over his own rubbing over the backs of them, over his knuckles and fingers.
"Training grounds." He murmured lowly, exhaustion in his voice. He knew she was checking his hands for bruises, for cuts, his knuckles for any splits. She always did that when he was gone too long. He loved that she worried about him, that she checked his body for damage- but he had promised not to lose his temper and torture anyone in her name tonight. He had made good on that promise- even when it was extremely hard. "Why are y’up?" He called softly. "Are you alright?"
“I’m alright, my Moon.” She nodded, leaning back into him. “I just can not manage to sleep well when you aren’t in the bed with me. Especially when I don’t know wherever it is you’ve run off to. Sneaky”
"Mmhmm." He hummed skeptically, pulling her into him. He knew she wasn't sleeping well without him, but he had to handle it soon or he would go crazy letting he anger fester. "M’sorry, my petal. I had to make sure they knew you were to be respected. That is all." He asked, his voice low as he felt her fingers splaying over his knuckles again, searching for any signs of injury as she was given the other one.
"Stop worrying about my hands, love." He murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple as he interlaced his fingers with hers deliberately, halting her inspection. "They're fine. I kept my word, didn't fight anyone." He reiterated softly, squeezing her hand gently to reassure her. His breath tickled her ear as he nestled closer, feeling himself settle a little bit. This was the meaning of life, he was pretty positive. To be laid up in bed with the love of his life. To protect her and keep her happy. All of those things felt like the best thing to do.
She let out a content sigh, her body melting into his as she squeezed their intertwined fingers. The relief was palpable, her shoulders sagging slightly as the tension drained from her muscles. "Thank you, Harry." She whispered, her voice thick with both the interrupted sleep and multitude of emotions. "I know it's hard for you to hold back, especially when it comes to protecting me. But... thank you for keeping your promise."
"For you? Anything." The Alpha mumbled into her hair. The way she trusted him, even when he was clearly wound up... it meant everything. "Go back to sleep, beautiful Blossom." He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder. "Need your sleep." But he didn't move away yet.
Unable to ignore the hardness pressing insistently against her ass cheeks, Y/N squirmed, grinding back against him. Sleep was not on her mind now that he had come back. The breathy little moan that escaped her lips betrayed her body's awakening desires, even if her mind was still fuzzy with sleep. Harry growled softly into her neck, his teeth grazing her skin as he stiffened further against her. "Sleeping beauty," he murmured huskily, "don't wiggle your perfect little ass like that unless you want me to do something about it."
She needed the sleep, sure, but if she tempted him… Harry would give her what she needed. What she deserved. His body was hers in whatever way she needed it. The erection was a natural reaction to being so close to her own naked body, but he knew that if she continued he would have little time before he lost restraint and pushed into her plush little cunt.
He waited for her response. Would she go back to sleep like an angel? Or would she grind against him again, seeking out friction? His body was tense, his length throbbing against her backside. If she gave one little hitch of her hips, he would spread those lush thighs apart and slip inside. He was an Alpha, he had a lot of repressed feelings from today and he hasn’t been able to completely release them yet. He was already hanging by a thread. The fact she was naked and his body was wrapped around her wasn't helping any bit of self control he had.
As she remained still for a few moments, he let out a shaky breath, his heart pounding in his chest. But then, without warning, she gave a subtle shift of her hips, rubbing her ass against his cock- and what was left of Harry's control snapped like a twig. He groaned, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he pushed her thighs apart and notched his head against her entrance. "Fuck, baby..." He hissed, feeling how sweet and sticky she was. Her cunt was always perfect but he especially appreciated it today. Slick, like she had been waiting for this exact thing. Always waiting for his cock. “S’good. Good little pussy…” The words were slurred against her throat, holding her still as he pushed the thick tip further into her.
Her lips parted in a silent gasp as he entered her, back arching slightly from the sudden- but welcomed- intrusion. Though they'd made love countless times, the sheer size of him never failed to take her breath away. One of her hands went for his wrist, nails digging in as she anchored herself. A whimper escaped her, muffled against the pillow as he buried himself deeper. The feeling of him inside of her was more satisfying than anything else she had experienced- Having her mate so close to her was a dream. She felt her inner walls flutter around him, welcoming him home.
Her reaction spurred him on, his hips starting to move in a slow, deep rhythm. Each thrust was measured, designed to make her feel as good as possible. It was all instinct at this point, knowing exactly how she liked it because they were designed in the stars to compliment each other. His forehead pressed against her shoulder, breath coming in short pants as he focused on the feeling of her wrapped around snugly him. "So fucking tight." He groaned, his fingers flexing on her soft skin. "Missed this. Missed you. Missed being inside my girl..." It didn’t matter if he had fucked her awake this morning, it was never enough. “So good.” His voice was ragged, filled with hints of that primal need that had been clawing at him all day long.
"Sweetest flower..." The Alpha breathed against her ear, thrusting slower but deeper. Each careful push hitting that spot inside her that made her mewl. His free hand slid down to toy with her clit, knowing exactly how sensitive she was there, feeling her tighten up around him as he found the swollen little thing. Her slick coated both his cock and fingers, the sound of their fucking filling the quiet room. "Feel how perfectly you take me? You were made just for me..." His teeth nipped at her neck, holding her in place while he continued to worship her body. “This pussy was made t’take this cock all the way in.”
"Harry..." She panted, her voice going up an octave. He knew that voice. Knew that she was getting there. Knew that she was loving how he filled her up. Her inner muscles tightened around his length, sucking him deeper.
"Mmhmm?" He hummed, his fingers swirling around her clit faster. He knew her body better than she knew herself sometimes. Like how she liked to be touched. Like how she liked to be kissed. Like how she liked to be stretched around him. He could hear it in her voice every single time, the slight hitching, the way she was panting his name. He knew she was begging without actually begging.
"You need something, petal?" He growled, his fingers pausing their swirling motion. "You need me deeper? Harder? More?" He flexed his hips experimentally, pushing a little deeper inside her. "You need me to mark you up again?" He licked over the side her neck, inhaling her scent deeply as it got thicker, sweeter with the arousal she leaked all over him.
The reaction was obvious to him as she clenched up around his cock, letting out a keening little whine. She wanted to be marked up, to be bitten again. Nothing would compare to the bond mark she had, but she loved the snap of pain. More marks and bruises on her to show how well loved and fucked she was. Just because she was sensitive and sweet didn’t mean she wasn’t just as jealous and possessive as her mate.
Harry's response was immediate, his teeth sinking into the tender skin of her neck. He held her in place with his arm wrapped around her waist, his other hand gripping her hip as he fucked her harder, deeper. The bite was hard enough to leave a mark, his canines piercing her skin as he claimed her once more. "Mine. My perfect Blossom… All I ever need." The growl of his voice vibrated against her neck, hot breath panting against her. "Always mine." He sucked at the mark, his tongue soothing the bite before he bit her again, this time on the other side of her neck.
"F-Fuck..." She whimpered, the sharp stings of his bites making her clench around his cock with such intensity that he could barely hold himself back. She melted into him completely, one hand reaching up to grip his hair, nails digging into his scalp, pulling him closer. "Harry- I love you." The words were panted out as her hips moved with his rhythm, meeting each thrust desperately.
"Love you too, baby. So much." He kissed the marks, his hips snapping forward and back at a bruising pace. "Gonna fill you up, mark you inside and out." His fingers found her clit again, pinching and rolling the sensitive nub as he fucked her towards her building orgasm. "Cum f’me, Blossom. Squeeze my dick with that sweet little cunt. Show me who it belongs to." The order was low and commanding, his teeth nipping at her earlobe.
The sound of their flesh meeting filled the room along with her breathy moans and his gravelly growls. Every stroke of his cock felt like heaven, stretching and filling her completely. It was the way it was supposed to be, having him keep her full. His tongue grazed her new marks occasionally, sending jolts of pleasure and pain through her body.
His movements became more insistent, his cock swelling slightly. "Need your tight little pussy to milk me." His hand moved from her clit down to rub against the sensitive spot where they joined, feeling where his cock was stretching her open, where his knot had begun to slowly swell. "Need me to breed you deep and keep you filled?" His voice was raw with desire, knowing exactly what she craved. It’s precisely what she always wanted. His girl always wanted it, craved it just as much as he did.
"Mhm." She pushed back against him, taking him deeper. "Your knot, Harry..." She whined softly, spreading her thighs wider for him. "Want it inside me..." Her hips rolled back to meet his thrusts, her hole fluttering around him already. "Fill me up." She loved his knot. Loved how it stretched her out, how it locked them together, kept him as deep as he could get. It was possessive and dirty and she really, really loved it. “Harry-“ She moaned softly. “Want to be full of you. Please?”
"Fuck, my heart..." He groaned, his knot swelling larger as he fucked her with growing desperation. "Gonna lock you up with my knot. Give you what y’want." His voice was strained, words slipping off his tongue as he had no filter when he was inside of her. "Gonna make you cum on my dick, milk my knot. I'll keep you full of me all night. S’what you deserve." The thought of it was too much, his control snapping as he felt her slicked up pussy starting to convulse around him.
His knot swelled, thick and ready to take her as it pressed against her tight hole. Holding himself there for a moment, he savored the feeling of her, of her cunt trying to milk him for all he was worth- but he didn’t want to hold it from her any longer. With a grunt, he pushed forward, his knot seating itself inside her with a soft pop. He was trapped, locked inside her, unable to pull out even if he wanted to. And he never wanted to. He wanted to stay buried inside her, keeping her full and satisfied as he got to stay warm.
As his knot sealed them together, Y/N's orgasm crashed over her, her pussy clamping down around him like a vice as she let out a high pitched whine. "Fuck yes, cum on me. Give it all to me, my love." Harry groaned, grinding into her. He could feel her pulsing around him as he emptied himself deep inside her, marking her as thoroughly as possible. Each twitch of his cock sent another spurt of his seed flooding her, his hips making shallow grinding motions, ensuring every last drop stayed buried within her.
"Gods, you're the most beautiful thing to walk this plane of existence." He murmured, his lips finding her shoulder as his hips moved slowly, working them through it. "Look at you taking everything I give you...The most incredible woman alive. You are what I live for." Petting her hair back softly, his voice dropping lower as he felt her body relax around his knot. "Best I've ever had. You ruin me. I never want anything else."
She let out a soft little mewl, feeling the pulses of him emptying every drop in her. Intimacy like this was something she had never even fathomed, but it was everything needed. "Harry. My love." His name was like a purr, her body languid and happy. "You make me feel incredible. Always so sweet." Her voice was dreamy as she sunk into his embrace. "You know how to make me feel loved..." He made love to her body and her mind each and every time. I was impossible to not feel the adoration pouring off of him. "You always protect me. You are the best Alpha.” Turning her head, she met his eyes. “Kiss me, please.”
A soft, adoring smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he shifted slightly to catch her lips in a tender kiss. One hand remained possessively on her hip while the other caressed her face. "How could I not protect my perfect mate? My everything?" He murmured against her lips before deepening the kiss, showing her exactly how much she meant.
If he could figure out a way to hang the stars in an order she found pleasing, he would do so. He would rearrange the hours in a day if he had the power. Never in his life had he found a motivator like she had become for him. He would change the entire world just to see the ghost of a smile on her perfect lips. He would move mountains, shift tectonic plates, and rewrite the laws of physics if it meant seeing her happy. "You are my reason, Blossom." He whispered against her lips, his voice filled with an overwhelming amount of love and devotion. "My reason for breathing, for living, for being. You own all of my love.”
Summary: Harry researches squirting, buys supplies and toys, then brings Y/N to multiple orgasms while experimenting with different techniques.
A/N: AHHH this chapter is insane!! 10k words of Harry trying to make Y/N squirt. I had a lot of fun with this!!! Can’t wait to write more on these lovebirds. Let me know what you think!
Word Count: 10k (wooohooow!!)
Warnings:
SMUT, 18+ ONLY
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
The cursor blinks. One click. That's all it takes. One click and the video that was never meant to exist outside the walls of this apartment becomes something else entirely. Something public. Something permanent.
Harry's hand covers yours on the mouse, his chest pressed warm against your back, his breath uneven against your ear. The two of you haven't moved from this spot in nearly two minutes, frozen in that breathless space between want and actually doing it.
"You sure?" he asks for the third time.
Your heart hammers so loud you're half-convinced the neighbors can hear it. "Are you?"
His thumb strokes over your knuckle. You feel him swallow, the bob of his throat against your shoulder. "I've been sure since the first tape."
The first tape. God, that feels like a lifetime ago now; when a simple suggestion turned into something neither of you could've predicted. And now here you are, three tapes deep, piled up on the desk beside you like evidence of every line you've crossed.
You press click.
The upload bar appears. A progress bar. A little estimated time remaining that ticks down with agonizing slowness. Your stomach drops through the floor.
"Fuck," you breathe.
Harry's arms wrap around you, pulling you back against him, and you can feel him half-hard already. Of course he is. The adrenaline of this is hitting him the same way it's hitting you — that terrifying, intoxicating rush of no turning back now.
Four minutes. The bar crawls. You watch the percentage climb, and Harry's lips find your neck, pressing soft, distracted kisses there like he can't help himself, like the reality of what you've just done is already making him need you again.
"There it goes," he murmurs against your skin as the bar fills to completion. "Posted."
It's done.
The screen refreshes automatically, and there it is: your video, live on the account you created together. The thumbnail is deceptively innocent: a shot of his hand on your hip, your face turned away, just the curve of your bare shoulder and the shadow of his body behind yours. But anyone who clicks play will see everything.
Harry exhales a shaky breath. His hands slide under your shirt, palms hot against your stomach. "Watch the view count with me?"
You shake your head, laughing breathlessly. "You're insane."
"You uploaded with me. That makes you equally insane."
Fair point.
He pulls you into his lap in the desk chair, your back against his chest, and the two of you sit there watching the little number tick upward. First ten views. Then thirty. Then a hundred in what feels like minutes. Comments appear—heart emojis, stunned reactions, people asking for more.
"Look at that," Harry says, voice rough with something you can't quite name. Pride, maybe. Possessiveness. That familiar dark thread of arousal that never seems to fully fade when it comes to you. "They're watching you."
Us, you think, but you know what he means. They're watching you, the way you look when he's inside you, the sounds you make when you can't help yourself, the way your body responds to his. It's all out there now, and the responses are already flooding in.
"Bet they wish they were you," he adds, lips brushing your ear.
You turn your head to look at him. "Or you."
His eyes darken. That wasn't the answer he was expecting, and you can see the effect it has on him — the way his pupils blow out, the way his grip tightens on your waist. He likes the idea of people wanting to be in his place just as much as he likes them wanting yours.
"We should make another one," he says.
"Already?"
"Already."
You don't film again that night. You're too wired, too caught up in the strange new reality of being watched, of knowing that somewhere out there, strangers are seeing you in your most private moments. It's surreal. It's terrifying. It's also so fucking hot that your thighs press together instinctively as you follow Harry into the bedroom, the weight of what you've just done still humming through your bloodstream like a live wire.
The bedroom is dim, only the bedside lamp casting a low amber glow across the sheets. You strip out of your clothes without thinking, leaving them in a careless pile at the foot of the bed. Harry watches you the whole time, his eyes tracking every movement, every inch of skin revealed. His shirt comes off next, then his jeans, and when he's down to his boxers you can already see the outline of him, half-hard from the adrenaline of uploading that tape.
He pulls you into bed, and the second your bodies meet under the covers the tension breaks. His mouth finds yours in a kiss that starts slow and quickly turns desperate, his tongue sliding against yours, his hand cupping the back of your neck like he needs to hold you there. You moan into it, and he swallows the sound, rolling you onto your back and settling between your thighs. The weight of him is familiar and grounding, something solid to cling to while your mind spins with everything that's happened tonight.
His lips leave yours to trail down your throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin there. He knows exactly where to linger, where to suck just hard enough to make your hips twitch up against him. Your hands find his shoulders, nails dragging lightly over his skin as he works his way lower, his mouth closing around one nipple. He sucks gently at first, then harder, his tongue flicking over the peak until you're arching beneath him. His hand comes up to give the same attention to your other breast, fingers rolling and pinching until both nipples are tight and aching.
"Fuck, Harry," you breathe, and he hums against your skin in response, the vibration shooting straight between your legs.
He takes his time, lavishing attention on your chest until you're squirming, your thighs squeezing around his hips. Only then does he continue his descent, kissing down the center of your stomach, his tongue dipping into your navel just to hear you laugh breathlessly. His hands slide down your sides, gripping your hips, and then he's settling lower, his shoulders pushing your thighs apart as he makes room for himself between them.
The first drag of his tongue through your folds is slow, deliberate, like he's savoring the taste of you. You gasp, your hands flying to his hair, fingers threading through the soft strands. He groans at the contact, the sound muffled against your cunt, and the vibration makes your thighs tremble. He licks you again, broader this time, his tongue flat and hot as it drags from your entrance up to your clit. When he reaches that sensitive bundle of nerves he circles it slowly, then flicks over it, then sucks it gently between his lips.
Your hips buck, and he brings one arm across your lower stomach to hold you down, keeping you pinned while he works. His tongue moves in practiced patterns; circles, then strokes, then that fluttering motion that always makes your toes curl. He knows your body so well by now, knows exactly how much pressure to use, how fast to go, when to ease off and when to push harder. It's almost unfair how good he is at this.
Two fingers press against your entrance, circling the slick opening before sliding inside. The stretch is perfect, just enough to make you feel full, and he curls them immediately, searching for that spot that makes you see stars. He finds it on the first try, the pads of his fingers rubbing against the spongy tissue, and your whole body jerks.
"There," you gasp, and he doesn't need to be told twice. He focuses his attention there, his fingers stroking in a steady rhythm while his tongue continues to work your clit. The combination is devastating. Pleasure builds in hot waves, each one cresting higher than the last, and you can feel yourself getting wetter, slick coating his fingers and chin as he works you open.
Your moans fill the room, unselfconscious and raw. Harry loves it when you're loud, and he rewards every sound with more pressure, more speed, his fingers pumping faster as his tongue flicks relentlessly over your clit. You can feel the orgasm building, that familiar tightening in your core, the way your thighs start to shake. It's going to be a good one, you can tell from the way the pleasure is spreading through your whole body, from the way your breath is coming in short gasps.
Harry adds a third finger, and the stretch makes you cry out. He works them in and out, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet room, his tongue never stopping its assault on your clit. You're so close, teetering on the edge, your fingers tightening in his hair.
"Don't stop," you beg, voice breaking. "Harry, please, don't stop—"
He doesn't. He doubles down, his fingers curling harder against that spot inside you, his tongue moving faster, and something shifts. The pleasure changes, deepens, becomes something almost too much. There's a strange pressure building, different from your usual orgasms, and for a moment you feel like you might need to pee. The sensation is overwhelming, almost frightening in its intensity.
"Harry—" you start, but then the orgasm crashes over you and the words dissolve into a broken moan.
It hits harder than anything you've felt before. Your whole body locks up, thighs clamping around his head, and then something releases. Wetness gushes out of you in a hot rush, soaking his hand, his chin, the sheets beneath you. The sound is filthy, a wet splatter that you can hear even through your own desperate cries. Your vision whites out, pleasure so intense it borders on pain, and you can feel yourself pulsing around his fingers, more liquid spilling out with each contraction.
Harry makes a sound you've never heard from him before. A low, guttural groan that vibrates through his whole body. He doesn't pull back. If anything, he presses closer, his tongue lapping at the wetness, his fingers still working inside you as you ride out the aftershocks. More liquid seeps out with each movement, and you're vaguely aware that you're making sounds you've never made before, high and broken and completely out of your control.
When it finally subsides, you're shaking. Your thighs are trembling so hard you can't stop them, and your chest heaves with each breath. Harry slowly withdraws his fingers, and even that small movement makes more wetness leak out of you. He sits back on his heels, staring down at the mess between your legs, and when you manage to lift your head to look at him, his face is completely wrecked.
His chin and mouth are glistening. His chest is flushed. His eyes are wide and dark, and when he looks at you there's something almost reverent in his expression.
"Holy fuck," he breathes. "You squirted."
The words hang in the air between you. You blink, trying to process what just happened. You've never done that before. The few times you've gotten close, it always felt too intense, too strange, and you'd pulled back before it could happen. But Harry didn't stop. He pushed you through it, and now the sheets are soaked and your thighs are wet and he's looking at you like you just performed a miracle.
"I—what?" Your voice is hoarse, like you've been screaming.
"You squirted," he repeats, and there's awe in his voice. His hand comes up, fingers still shiny with your release, and he actually brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean. The sight makes your stomach flip. "Fuck, that was the hottest thing I've ever seen."
You cover your face with your hands, suddenly embarrassed. "I didn't even know I could do that."
Harry's hands wrap around your wrists, gently pulling your hands away from your face. He leans over you, his body covering yours, and you can feel him hard against your thigh, straining against his boxers. "Don't hide," he says softly. "That was incredible. You were incredible."
His mouth finds yours again, and you can taste yourself on his tongue, sweet and musky. The kiss is slower now, less frantic, but no less intense. His hands roam over your body, relearning every curve and dip like he's seeing you for the first time. When he pulls back, his eyes are bright with something that looks almost like excitement.
"I want to do it again," he says.
Your laugh is breathless. "Give me a minute to recover first."
"No, I mean—" He shifts, and you feel the hard line of his cock press against you through his boxers. "I want to make you do it again. On purpose. I want to figure out exactly how to get you there."
The thought sends a fresh pulse of heat through you. "Harry—"
"I've never seen anything like that," he continues, and his voice has taken on that focused quality it gets when he's working on something. "The way you just—fuck, the way you came, the way it felt around my fingers. I want to do it again. I want to try different things, see what works."
You can feel him grinding against you now, his hips moving in small, unconscious rolls. He's so turned on it's affecting his ability to form coherent sentences, and there's something deeply satisfying about that.
"Like what?" you ask, curious despite yourself.
"Positions," he says immediately. "Different angles. Maybe toys. I want to see if I can get you to do it while I'm inside you. While you're on top. While you're—" He cuts himself off, groaning. "Fuck, I need to be inside you right now."
He shoves his boxers down and kicks them off, and then he's naked above you, his cock hard and flushed. He takes himself in hand, stroking once, twice, before lining up with your entrance. You're still so wet from your orgasm that he slides in easily, the stretch making you gasp. He buries himself to the hilt in one smooth thrust, and you both moan at the sensation.
He doesn't move right away. Just stays there, deep inside you, his forehead pressed against yours. "You feel so fucking good," he breathes. "So wet. Fuck, you're dripping."
The evidence of your earlier release is still everywhere. The sheets beneath you are damp, your thighs are slick, and now his cock is coated in it too. Every time he moves, there's a wet sound that makes your face burn. Harry seems to love it. He pulls out slowly, watching as his cock emerges shiny and wet, then thrusts back in harder.
The pace he sets is deliberate, each thrust measured and deep. He's watching your face, cataloging every reaction, every gasp and moan. His hand slides between your bodies, finding your clit, and he rubs it in tight circles as he fucks you. The dual sensation is almost too much, your body still sensitive from the first orgasm.
He shifts his angle, lifting your hips slightly, and the new position makes him hit that spot inside you with every thrust. Your mouth falls open on a silent cry, pleasure building again despite how recently you came. Harry watches your face intently, adjusting his movements based on your reactions.
"Right there?" he asks when your thighs start to shake.
"Yes. Fuck, yes."
He maintains that angle, his thrusts becoming faster, harder. His fingers work your clit in time with his movements, and you can feel that strange pressure building again, that overwhelming sensation that makes you want to pull away and push closer at the same time. Your hands fist in the sheets, your back arching off the bed.
"Harry, I — It's too much."
"I've got you," he says, not slowing down.
He keeps thrusting, his fingers working your clit, his cock hitting that spot inside you with every stroke. Your thighs shake harder, your grip on his shoulders tightening. Pleasure builds and builds until it crests, and you come with a broken moan, your cunt clenching around him in rhythmic pulses. Harry groans at the feeling, his rhythm faltering as your walls squeeze him tight.
He doesn't stop. He fucks you through it, his thrusts growing faster, more urgent. Sweat beads on his forehead, his breathing ragged. Your body is oversensitive now, every drag of his cock inside you sending sparks through your nerves, but you don't want him to stop. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he responds with a low curse.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he pants. "So fucking tight after you come."
His hand leaves your clit to grip your hip, fingers digging into your skin as he holds you steady. He drives into you with purpose now, chasing his own release. The wet sounds of his cock moving inside you fill the room, mixing with his heavy breathing and your soft moans. He shifts his weight, leaning back slightly so he can watch where his cock disappears into you, and the sight makes his rhythm stutter.
"Look at you," he breathes. "Taking me so well."
You reach between your bodies, finding your clit again, rubbing it in quick circles as he fucks you. The added stimulation makes your toes curl, another orgasm building even though you just came. Harry watches your hand move, his eyes dark and focused.
"That's it," he encourages. "Touch yourself while I fuck you."
His thrusts become harder, deeper, the head of his cock hitting that spot inside you with every stroke. Your fingers move faster on your clit, matching his rhythm. The pressure builds again, different this time, less overwhelming but no less intense. When you come, it's with a soft cry, your body arching beneath him as pleasure rolls through you in waves.
Harry groans at the feeling of you coming around him again, his hips snapping forward with more urgency. He's close now, you can tell from the way his breathing changes, the way his thrusts become less controlled. You squeeze around him, and that pushes him over the edge. He buries himself deep and comes with a broken moan, his cock pulsing as he fills you. You can feel the warmth of it, the way his body shudders above you as he rides out his orgasm.
When he finally stops moving, you're both breathing hard. Harry lowers himself carefully, his weight settling on top of you, his face pressed into your neck. His heart hammers against your chest, matching the frantic rhythm of your own. Neither of you speaks for a long moment. The only sounds are your breathing and the occasional wet sound as his cock softens inside you.
Eventually, Harry lifts his head. His hair is a mess, his face flushed, and there's a look in his eyes that you recognize. The look he gets when he's found a new obsession.
"I need to research this," he says.
You laugh, the sound shaky. "Right now?"
"Soon." He pulls out slowly, and you both wince at the wet mess that follows. He sits back on his heels, looking down at the destruction you've wrought on the bed. "I've never seen anything like that. I want to try different things, see what triggers it."
Your body is still trembling, aftershocks rippling through you. "Harry, I don't even know if I can do it on command. It just happened."
"We'll figure it out," he says, and his voice has that determined edge again. "Like I said, we’ll try different positions, toys, maybe I can find some information about the anatomy, figure out exactly what's happening."
The thought of him researching this, treating it like a project, should probably be weird. Instead, it sends a fresh pulse of heat through you. "You really want to do this."
"I really want to do this." He leans down, kissing you softly. "But only if you want to. If you're okay with it."
You think about it, the intensity of those orgasms, the overwhelming pleasure, the way it felt to completely lose control. It's terrifying. It's also the hottest thing you've ever experienced.
"I'm okay with it," you say. "If you want to try getting it on tape next time."
His smile is brilliant. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
He kisses you again, slower this time, and you can feel the promise in it, the promise of more experiments, more research, more nights like this one. When he pulls back, his expression is soft.
"We should probably change the sheets," he says.
You look down at the soaked mattress and laugh. "Probably."
Neither of you moves right away. You just lie there together, tangled in the mess you've made, the reality of what just happened settling over you like a warm blanket. Harry's hand finds yours, fingers interlacing, and you squeeze gently.
You just want to exist in this moment, in the aftermath of something neither of you expected.
Eventually, you drag yourselves out of bed and strip the sheets, replacing them with fresh ones from the closet. The new sheets feel cool and clean against your skin as you crawl back into bed, and Harry pulls you against his chest, your back to his front. His arm wraps around your waist, and you can feel his breathing slow as sleep starts to claim him.
You lie there for a while longer, listening to his heartbeat, thinking about the video you uploaded and the one you'll make next. The thought should probably keep you awake, but instead it lulls you into a strange, contented peace.
The morning light filters through the curtains in thin stripes across the living room floor. Harry is already awake when you wander out, hair still damp from the shower, dressed in nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants slung low on his hips. He's on the couch with the laptop open on the coffee table in front of him, and from the look of the screen he's been at it for a while. Multiple tabs are open, the glow of the monitor casting a pale light across his face as he leans forward, elbows on his knees, scrolling through something with focused attention.
You pause in the doorway, watching him for a moment before he notices you're there. His eyes flick up, and a slow smile spreads across his face.
"Morning," he says, voice still rough with sleep. "Coffee's on the counter."
You pour yourself a cup and carry it over to the couch, settling beside him. The screen is filled with what looks like medical diagrams and text-heavy articles. One tab shows a cross-section of female anatomy, labeled with clinical precision. Another displays a forum thread with dozens of comments. A third has a video paused at the beginning, the thumbnail showing a couple in a bedroom setting.
"Research," Harry says before you can ask. He reaches for his own mug, taking a sip without looking away from the screen. "Figured I'd get started early."
You lean in, trying to make sense of what he's looking at. The article on screen is titled something about the Skene's gland and its role in female ejaculation. The text is dense, full of anatomical terms that make your head spin. Harry seems to be absorbing it without difficulty, his eyes moving steadily down the page.
"Did you sleep at all?" you ask.
"A few hours." He clicks to another tab, this one showing a collection of studies with titles you can barely pronounce. "Couldn't really turn my brain off after last night."
You sip your coffee, watching him navigate through the tabs with purpose. He's bookmarked at least a dozen pages already, organized into folders with names like "Anatomy" and "Techniques" and "Positions." The level of organization is almost impressive.
"Find anything useful?"
"Lots." He clicks on one of the forum threads, scrolling through comments from users describing their experiences. "Apparently there's a lot of variation in how it happens. Some people need specific stimulation, some can do it from penetration alone, some need a combination. The angle matters. The pressure matters. How full the bladder is matters, apparently."
You raise an eyebrow. "How full the bladder is?"
"Yeah." He points to a paragraph in one of the articles. "There's this idea that the fluid comes from the Skene's gland, which is near the urethra. When you're aroused, blood flow increases to the area and the gland fills up. If your bladder has some fluid in it, it can create more pressure. Not enough to actually pee, but enough to trigger the response."
You stare at the screen, trying to process the clinical language. "So what, I should drink water before we try again?"
Harry laughs, the sound low and warm. "Maybe. Or maybe not. The sources seem mixed on that one. Some people say it helps, others say it doesn't make a difference. I think we just need to experiment and see what works for you specifically."
He clicks back to the video tab and presses play. The footage that loads is clearly homemade, a couple in their bedroom with the camera set up on a tripod. The woman is on her back, the man between her legs, and the angle is explicit. You feel your face heat up, but Harry watches with clinical detachment, pausing at certain points to study the positioning.
"See how his fingers are angled?" he says, pointing to the screen. "He's using a come-hither motion, pressing up toward her pubic bone. That's the spot we want to hit."
You watch for a few more seconds before he pauses it again. "And the pressure. He's not being gentle. It's firm, consistent. I think I was too light last night. That's probably why it took so long to build up."
He's talking about your body like it's a puzzle to solve, breaking down the mechanics with the same focus he applies to everything else. There's something oddly arousing about it, the way he's treating this like a project he intends to master.
Harry opens another tab, this one showing a list of recommended toys. He scrolls through, reading descriptions and reviews with the same intensity.
"Vibrating toys might help," he says. "Something curved that can maintain pressure on the right spot while also stimulating the clit. Or maybe a wand. Those seem popular for this specifically."
He adds several items to a cart without hesitation, then moves on to another article about breathing techniques and muscle relaxation. You sip your coffee and watch him work, the morning stretching out around you in a strange bubble of domesticity and explicit research.
By the time the coffee is gone, Harry has compiled what looks like a full study guide. He has notes in a document, bullet points organized by category, links saved and categorized. The level of detail is almost academic.
"You know this is kind of insane, right?" you say, but there's no judgment in it. If anything, you're impressed by his dedication.
Harry glances at you, a small smile playing at his lips. "You said you were okay with trying again. I want to do it right. I want to know what I'm doing instead of just guessing."
He closes the laptop and sets it aside, turning to face you more fully on the couch. His hand finds your knee, thumb stroking absently over the fabric of your pants.
"I want to try a few things tonight," he says. "Different positions. Maybe with you on top so you can control the angle. Or from behind, if that feels good. I want to see if the toy helps, or if fingers work better. I want to pay attention to how long it takes, what builds up to it, what makes it more intense."
The way he talks about it makes your stomach tighten with anticipation. There's no hesitation in his voice, no embarrassment. He's simply stating facts, laying out a plan like he's scheduling a work meeting.
"And if none of it works, that's fine too," he adds. "But I think it will. I think we can figure this out."
You nod, and Harry leans in to kiss you, soft and brief. When he pulls back, his eyes are bright with that same focused energy from last night.
"I'm going to order some of those toys," he says, reaching for the laptop again. "They should be here in a couple days. Until then, we can practice with what we have."
He opens the browser again, pulling up the cart to check the shipping times. You watch him work, the morning light shifting across the room as the day begins in earnest. Harry is already lost in his research again, clicking through pages, adding notes to his document, building his plan with methodical precision.
And somewhere beneath the clinical language and the diagrams, there's a thread of heat running through it all. The knowledge that tonight, when the research is done and the lights are low, he'll put all of this into practice. That he'll touch you with purpose, with intention, with the full weight of everything he's learning right now.
You finish your coffee and settle back against the couch, watching him work. The cursor blinks on the screen as he types another note, his fingers moving with steady purpose across the keyboard. Harry is deep in his research now, clicking between tabs, cross-referencing articles, building out his document with the kind of focus that makes everything else fade into the background. You watch the screen over his shoulder for a while longer, the clinical diagrams and forum threads blurring together, before you stand up and carry your empty mug to the kitchen.
Harry barely registers the movement. He's muttering something under his breath about angles and pressure points, his attention locked on whatever study he's reading. You rinse your mug and set it in the sink, then lean against the counter and study him from across the room. His bare shoulders are tense with concentration, the muscles shifting slightly as he scrolls and types. The gray sweatpants hang low on his hips, and you can see the faint outline of his spine when he leans forward.
After another ten minutes, he finally closes the laptop with a soft click and stands up. He stretches, arms reaching overhead, and then he turns to look at you with that focused expression still lingering in his eyes.
"I'm going out," he says.
You raise an eyebrow. "Out where?"
"Store." He crosses the room and disappears into the bedroom, returning a moment later with a t-shirt pulled on over his head. "Need a few things. Towels. Maybe some other stuff. I want to be prepared for tonight."
The way he says it makes your stomach tighten. Prepared. Like he's stocking up for an experiment that requires supplies and planning and attention to detail.
"What kind of things?" you ask.
Harry is already pulling on socks, sitting on the edge of the couch to tie his shoes. "Absorbent towels. The ones we have are too small. And maybe some waterproof sheets if they have them. I don't want to keep stripping the bed every time."
He stands up and grabs his keys from the bowl by the door. Before he leaves, he pauses and looks back at you.
"While I'm gone, I want you to take care of yourself," he says. "Shower if you want. Eat something. Rest. I don't want you thinking about tonight or stressing about it. Just focus on you."
You open your mouth to respond, but he's already out the door, the lock clicking behind him. The apartment settles into silence, broken only by the distant hum of traffic outside. You stand there for a moment, processing the instruction. Take care of yourself. Focus on you. It sounds simple enough, but there's an undercurrent to it. A directive. Harry wants you rested and relaxed and ready, and the thought of him planning your day even while he's gone sends a strange thrill through you.
You start with another cup of coffee, moving through the kitchen with deliberate slowness. The fridge is stocked, and you pull out eggs and vegetables, chopping and whisking with the kind of care that turns a simple meal into something meditative. You eat at the counter, scrolling through your phone without really absorbing anything, your mind drifting back to last night despite Harry's instructions. The memory of his fingers inside you, the overwhelming rush of release, the way he looked at you afterward like he'd discovered something new. It plays on a loop, and you have to actively push it away to focus on the food in front of you.
After breakfast, you shower. The hot water feels good on your skin, and you take your time, letting the steam fill the bathroom and loosen the tension in your shoulders. You wash your hair, condition it, stand under the spray longer than necessary just to feel the warmth. When you step out, you take your time drying off, rubbing lotion into your skin with slow, careful strokes. The apartment is quiet, and you move through it in just a towel, enjoying the freedom of having the space to yourself.
You settle on the couch with a book, but your attention keeps wandering. Harry's laptop sits closed on the coffee table, and you resist the urge to open it and see what he's been researching. Instead, you force yourself to read, turning pages without really processing the words. The morning stretches on, and you find yourself checking the clock, wondering how long Harry will be gone and what he'll bring back with him.
Around noon, you make lunch. Something simple, a sandwich and some fruit, eaten while standing at the window and watching the street below. People pass by, cars move through traffic, and the world continues on like nothing has changed. But everything feels different now. The knowledge of what's coming tonight sits in your chest like a weight, equal parts anticipation and nerves.
You try to rest after lunch, stretching out on the couch with a blanket pulled over you. Your body feels sensitive, every brush of fabric against your skin reminding you of last night. You close your eyes and breathe, trying to follow Harry's instructions, trying to exist in this moment without projecting forward. But your mind keeps drifting back to the research he was doing, the way he talked about positions and angles and pressure like he was preparing for a test he intended to ace.
The sound of the door unlocking pulls you from your thoughts. Harry steps inside with several bags in his hands, his cheeks flushed from the cold outside. He sets everything down on the kitchen counter and shrugs off his coat, then turns to look at you with a small smile.
"Did you rest?" he asks.
You nod, sitting up on the couch. "Tried to."
Harry unpacks the bags, laying everything out across the counter with methodical precision. There are several large, thick towels in neutral colors, the kind meant for beach trips or heavy use. He unfolds one and examines the texture, then sets it aside and moves on to the next item. A package of waterproof mattress protectors, the kind that zip around the entire bed. Several bottles of water, which he lines up on the counter next to a new bottle of lube. A small bottle of massage oil. A pack of washcloths.
Then he reaches into one of the larger bags and pulls out a black box. He sets it on the counter and opens it, revealing a curved silicone toy with a bulbous head and a smaller attachment designed to sit against the clit. The packaging is still sealed, but the shape is unmistakable. A wand vibrator comes next, still in its box, followed by a smaller curved dildo made of smooth glass. Harry lines them up beside the towels and sheets, his expression focused as he checks each item against some mental list.
He opens another bag and pulls out a bottle of toy cleaner, a pack of batteries, and a small bottle of arousal gel. Everything is arranged in neat rows across the counter, each item serving a specific purpose in the plan he's been building since last night. You watch from the couch as he creates order from the chaos of shopping bags, his movements deliberate and purposeful. When everything is laid out, he turns to face you.
"I got a few different sizes of towels," he says. "Figured we could try them out and see what works best. The waterproof sheet should help with the mattress, but I want to be prepared anyway."
He picks up the curved silicone toy and turns it over in his hands, studying the shape. "This one is supposed to be good for hitting the right spot while also stimulating the clit. The reviews were pretty consistent about it working for this specifically."
He sets it down and gestures to the wand vibrator. "And this one has different intensity settings. I figured we could try it on lower settings first, see how your body responds before going higher."
Harry crosses the room and carries the waterproof sheet and several towels into the bedroom. You follow him, watching as he zips the protector into place and smooths it over the mattress. The regular sheets go on top, and he lays two of the thick towels across the center of the bed, overlapping them slightly for maximum coverage.
He steps back and surveys the setup, his expression satisfied. The toys and supplies remain on the kitchen counter for now, organized and ready for when they're needed. Harry turns to you and pulls you into his arms, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips.
"Tonight," he says, his voice low. "After dinner. We'll try a few things. See what works."
You nod against his chest, and he holds you there for a long moment before releasing you. The rest of the afternoon passes in a strange haze of anticipation. Harry puts away the remaining supplies in the bedside drawer, fills a glass of water and sets it on the nightstand, checks that the batteries are installed in the wand vibrator. Every action is deliberate, part of the preparation he's been building toward all day.
You try to stay present, try to focus on the small tasks of the afternoon, but your mind keeps drifting forward. To tonight. To the research Harry has done and the supplies he's gathered and the focused determination in his eyes when he talks about figuring this out. The apartment feels charged with it, every surface holding the promise of what's to come.
Harry moves through the space with quiet purpose, checking and double-checking his preparations. When he finally settles on the couch beside you, his hand finds yours and squeezes gently.
"Ready?" he asks.
You squeeze back. "Ready."
The hours pass slowly after that. You eat dinner together at the small table by the window, the conversation light and easy, neither of you mentioning what's coming later. Harry washes the dishes while you dry them, and the domestic rhythm of it settles something in your chest. By the time the kitchen is clean and the lights are dimmed, the anticipation has built into something thick and electric.
You head into the bedroom first. The towels are already laid out on the bed, the waterproof sheet crinkling faintly beneath them. The toys sit arranged on the nightstand beside the bottle of lube and the glass of water Harry set out earlier. You open the drawer where you keep your nicer underwear and pull out a set you haven't worn in a while, black lace that sits low on your hips and cups your breasts in delicate patterns. The fabric feels cool against your skin as you step into the panties and pull them up, adjusting the waistband until it sits just right.
Harry appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. He watches you without saying anything at first, his eyes tracking the movement of your hands as you reach for the matching bra. You slip your arms through the straps and fasten it behind your back, the clasp clicking into place with a soft sound.
"I need to say something before we start," Harry says.
You turn to face him, your fingers still adjusting the straps on your shoulders. He pushes off the doorframe and steps into the room, his expression serious.
"There's no pressure tonight," he says. "I want to be clear about that. If it happens again, great. If it doesn't, that's fine too. I don't want you thinking you have to perform or make something happen just because I went out and bought all this stuff."
You nod, reaching for the dress you'd laid out earlier, but Harry continues before you can put it on.
"I'm serious," he says. "I got carried away with the research and the shopping and all the planning. But at the end of the day, this is supposed to be fun. For both of us. If you're not feeling it, or if your body just doesn't do it again, we move on. No disappointment. No trying to force it."
You step into the dress and pull it up over your hips, the fabric settling around your thighs. Harry watches you smooth it down, his hands sliding into his pockets.
"I mean it," he says. "I want you to enjoy this. Whatever happens or doesn't happen. The second it stops being good, we stop. Okay?"
You turn to face him fully, the dress hugging your body in all the right places. "Okay."
Harry crosses the room and kisses you, his hands resting lightly on your waist. When he pulls back, his expression has softened into something warmer.
"Good," he says. "Now let's go make the bed a mess."
Harry pulls his shirt off and tosses it aside. He steps out of his pants and leaves them on the floor, then he reaches for you. His hands find the zipper at the back of your dress and he pulls it down slowly. The fabric loosens around your body and he pushes it off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor around your feet. You stand there in the black lace set while he looks at you, his eyes moving over your body with clear appreciation.
He kisses you again, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against yours. His hands move to your waist and he walks you backward toward the bed until the backs of your knees hit the mattress. You sit down and he follows, pressing you onto your back as he settles over you. The towels beneath you are thick and soft, and the waterproof sheet makes a faint crinkling sound when you shift.
Harry's mouth moves down your neck, pressing open kisses to your skin. He reaches your collarbone and continues lower, his lips brushing over the lace covering your breasts. His hand comes up and cups one breast, his thumb stroking over the nipple through the fabric until it hardens under his touch. He pulls the cup down and takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking gently at first, then harder. His tongue flicks over the peak and you arch beneath him, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders.
He gives the same attention to your other breast, pulling the lace aside and sucking until both nipples are tight and sensitive. His hand slides down your stomach and between your legs, his fingers pressing against the lace of your panties. He rubs you through the fabric, feeling the heat there, and when he pulls his hand away his fingers are slightly damp.
Harry sits back on his heels and reaches for the nightstand. He picks up the curved silicone toy and turns it over in his hands, checking the buttons. He presses one and the toy hums to life, a low vibration that fills the quiet room. He turns it off again and sets it down, then reaches for the bottle of lube. He squeezes some onto his fingers and reaches between your legs again, pulling your panties to the side. His fingers slide through your folds, spreading the lube and your own wetness together.
He presses one finger inside you, then two, working them in and out slowly. His thumb finds your clit and rubs in small circles as he stretches you open. When he adds a third finger, the stretch makes you gasp. He works them deeper, curling them slightly, searching for the right angle.
"Tell me if this feels good," he says.
His fingers press up toward your pubic bone, and when he finds the spot that makes your thighs twitch he focuses there. He rubs in a steady rhythm, his thumb still working your clit. The sensation builds slowly, the pressure inside you growing with each stroke. Harry watches your face, adjusting his movements based on your reactions.
After a few minutes he pulls his fingers out and reaches for the toy again. He turns it on to the lowest setting and presses the curved end against your entrance. The toy slides in easily, the curve pressing up against that same spot inside you. The smaller attachment sits against your clit, and when Harry turns up the vibration both points of contact come to life at once.
The feeling is intense. The toy vibrates against your clit while the curved end pulses inside you, pressing against that sensitive area with consistent pressure. Harry moves the toy in small circles, changing the angle slightly, watching how your body responds. He turns the intensity up another notch and the vibrations get stronger.
Your hips roll against the toy without you meaning to. Harry holds it steady, letting you move against it, his free hand resting on your thigh to keep you spread open. The pressure builds in your lower stomach, different from a regular orgasm, more intense and harder to place. You feel yourself getting wetter, the toy sliding more easily as your body produces more slick.
Harry watches the toy move in and out of you. He turns the intensity up again, and the vibrations against your clit make your thighs shake. The pressure inside you grows, but before it can crest Harry turns the toy off and pulls it out slowly.
"Not yet," he says. "I want to try a few more things."
He sets the toy aside and reaches for the wand vibrator. He turns it on and presses it against your clit through your panties, the broad head covering more area than the previous toy. The vibration is stronger, deeper, and it makes your whole body tense. Harry moves it in small circles, pressing down with varying amounts of pressure, seeing what makes you react most strongly.
He pulls your panties off completely and presses the wand directly against your bare clit. The sensation is almost too much, and you reach down to grab his wrist.
"Too much?" Harry asks.
You nod, your fingers tight around his wrist.
Harry eases off slightly, giving you a moment to adjust, then presses the wand back against you with lighter pressure. "Better?"
"Yeah," you breathe.
He slides two fingers inside you again while the wand works your clit, his fingers curling up toward that same spot.
The combination makes your back arch off the bed. Harry fucks you with his fingers while the wand vibrates against your clit, his movements steady and deliberate. He adds a third finger and the stretch makes you moan. "Fuck, Harry."
He works them in and out, the wet sounds filling the room, his wrist twisting slightly with each thrust to hit different angles inside you.
"You can take it," he says, his voice low. "You're doing so good."
You feel the pressure building again, that overwhelming sensation that makes your thighs shake. Harry keeps the wand pressed against your clit and curls his fingers harder, and something shifts. The pleasure spikes and you come with a broken sound, your cunt clenching around his fingers in rhythmic pulses. Harry works you through it, his fingers slowing but not stopping, the wand easing off to a lower intensity as your orgasm fades.
He pulls his fingers out and turns the wand off, setting it aside. He leans over you and kisses you, his hand stroking your thigh gently.
"One," he says against your mouth.
He gives you a minute to catch your breath, then he reaches for the glass dildo. He runs it under warm water from the bathroom sink and brings it back, the glass smooth and slightly warm in his hand. He coats it with lube and presses the rounded end against your entrance. The glass slides in easily, and the firmness of it feels different from the silicone toy or his fingers. Harry moves it in shallow thrusts, angling it up toward your pubic bone, watching your face for reactions.
He finds an angle that makes your breath catch and focuses there. He fucks you with the glass dildo in steady strokes, the firm pressure against that spot inside you building that familiar tension again. His free hand comes up to your clit, his fingers rubbing in tight circles as he works the toy in and out.
"Right there?" he asks when your hips twitch.
"Yes. Don't stop."
The pressure builds faster this time. Harry keeps the rhythm consistent, his fingers on your clit matching the pace of the toy inside you. Your thighs start to shake and your hands fist in the towels beneath you. Harry watches your face, adjusting the angle of the toy slightly, pressing harder against that spot.
"You feel so wet," he says. "Soaking the toy."
You feel yourself getting close again, that overwhelming sensation building in your lower stomach. Harry keeps the toy moving and his fingers working, and the pleasure crests into another orgasm. Your cunt clenches around the glass and you moan as the waves roll through you. Harry works you through it, his movements slowing as your body relaxes.
He pulls the toy out carefully and sets it aside. He wipes his hand on one of the towels and leans over you again, kissing your forehead.
"Two," he says.
You reach up and grab his shoulders, pulling him closer.
"Harry," you say. "Just fuck me. Please."
He looks down at you, his eyes dark. "You sure?"
"Yes. I want you inside me. Just you."
Harry's jaw tightens. Harry stands up and strips off his boxers. His cock is hard, flushed dark at the tip, and he strokes himself once before climbing back onto the bed. He settles between your legs and lines himself up with your entrance. He's not trying anything specific now, just sliding into you the way he normally would, his hips pressing forward until he's buried to the hilt.
He stays there for a moment, his forehead pressed against yours, both of you breathing hard. Then he starts to move, pulling out slowly and thrusting back in with steady rhythm. His hands grip your hips and he angles you slightly, lifting your lower body off the bed so he can go deeper.
The position lets him hit that spot inside you with every thrust. Harry fucks you with purpose but without the deliberate focus from earlier, just chasing his own pleasure while you take what you need from his body. Your hands come up to his shoulders and your nails dig into his skin as he moves faster.
"Fuck, you feel good," Harry says, his voice rough. "So wet already."
The wet sounds of his cock moving inside you fill the room. You're soaked from the earlier orgasms and the lube, and every thrust makes a slick noise that makes Harry's rhythm stutter. He leans down and kisses you, his tongue sliding against yours as his hips snap forward harder.
"Want to feel you come on my cock," he says against your skin.
You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him deeper. Harry groans and buries his face in your neck, his thrusts becoming more urgent. His hand slides between your bodies and his fingers find your clit, rubbing in quick circles as he fucks you.
The pressure builds differently this time. There's no toy, no deliberate angle, just Harry inside you and his fingers on your clit and the steady rhythm of his hips. Your body responds anyway, that overwhelming sensation growing in your lower stomach with each thrust. You feel yourself getting close again, your thighs shaking around Harry's waist.
Harry keeps thrusting, his cock hitting that spot inside you over and over. His fingers work your clit faster and his breathing gets ragged against your neck. You feel the tension building and building until it breaks, and something releases.
Wetness gushes out of you around Harry's cock in a hot rush. The sound is filthy, a wet splatter against the towels, and your vision whites out as the orgasm crashes through you. Your cunt pulses around him and more liquid spills out with each contraction, soaking the space between your bodies.
Harry freezes. He pulls back slightly and looks down between your legs, his eyes wide. His cock is still inside you, coated in your release, and the towels beneath you are visibly wet.
"Holy shit," he says. "You just—fuck, you squirted."
He looks genuinely confused, his brows pulled together as he processes what just happened. He was not trying to make it happen. He was just fucking you the way he always does, and somehow your body responded anyway.
"I wasn't even—" He stops, staring at the mess between your legs. "I didn't do anything different. I was just—"
He pulls out slowly and more wetness leaks out of you. Harry sits back on his heels and looks at his cock, shiny with your release, then back at your face.
"I thought I had to do all that stuff with the toys and the angles," he says. "I thought I needed to figure out the exact combination. But you just—while I was inside you normally."
He runs his hand through his hair, still looking confused. "I don't understand. I wasn't even trying."
You laugh breathlessly, your body still trembling from the intensity of it. Harry leans over you and kisses you, his hand cupping your face.
"That was the hottest thing I've ever seen," he says against your mouth. "And I have no idea how it happened."
He pulls back and looks down at the soaked towels again, shaking his head slightly.
"I spent all day researching this," he says. "Bought all those toys. Made all these plans. And you just did it while we were having normal sex."
He looks at you with something like wonder in his eyes, his confusion mixing with clear arousal. His cock is still hard, twitching slightly as he takes in the sight of you spread out beneath him, the evidence of what just happened all over the bed.
"I guess we don't need the research after all," he says.
He stays there for a moment, his gaze moving between your face and the soaked towels beneath you. His cock is still fully hard, the head flushed and glistening from your release, and he reaches down to give it a slow stroke without really thinking about it.
"You just squirted on me," he says again, almost to himself. "While I was just fucking you the way I always do."
He leans over you and kisses you, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against yours with clear hunger. His hand cups your face and he presses his body against yours, his cock hard and hot against your thigh.
"I want to keep going," he says against your mouth. "I want to feel you do that again while I'm inside you."
Before you can respond, his phone buzzes on the nightstand. Harry ignores it at first, his mouth moving down to your neck, but it buzzes again and then a third time in quick succession. He sighs and reaches for it, his brow furrowing as he unlocks the screen.
His eyes scan the message and his expression shifts. He sits up slightly, still between your legs, and reads the text again.
"It's from Mark," he says, his voice flat.
He turns the phone so you can see the screen. The message is from Harry's coworker, the one who came over for dinner last month. It says: Dude. Is that you in the video that got posted on that site? The one with the black sheets?
Harry stares at the message. Another one comes through while he's still holding the phone.
I'm not judging. Just surprised. Didn't know you two were into that.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
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Rule number one: do not fall in love with your boss.
Rule number two: do not forget rule number one.
Rule number three: when he looks at you like that, pretend it doesn't mean anything.
Summary: When you land a job as the personal assistant to Harry Styles, the calm, charismatic CEO of Fine Line Enterprises, you quickly learn the role is much more than managing a calendar. From early morning calls to last minute flights and being the gatekeeper to one of the busiest men in the industry, your lite becomes completely intertwined with his.
All you had to do was pass history. Nobody said anything about keeping your hands to yourself.
Word count: 11k
Authors note ✉️: okay so this is my take on nerd!harry and I want to be clear that I didn’t want to lean too hard into the stereotype. He’s not awkward or socially clueless, he’s just incredibly smart
Warnings: SMUT
The test came back face-down.
That was never a good sign. Professor Aldridge always handed back the good ones face-up, like she wanted you to see the grade before you’d even touched the paper, wanted you to feel good about it in front of everyone. Face-down meant she was giving you a private moment with your disappointment.
You flipped it over.
Sixty-one.
You stared at it long enough that the number stopped looking like a number and started looking like a shape, red ink pressed into the top right corner of the page like a brand. Around you, the shuffle of papers and the low murmur of other students reacting to their own grades filled the lecture hall, but it sounded far away. Sixty-one. You needed a seventy to pass the class. You were four weeks from the midterm.
You tucked the test under your notebook before anyone could see it.
Professor Aldridge dismissed the class at five past, and you were already reaching for your bag when her voice cut through the noise.
“Miss y/n?” She was looking directly at you. “Would you mind staying back a moment?”
The last few students filtered out. You made your way down to the front of the room, test in hand, and stood in front of her desk feeling very much like you were sixteen and not nineteen.
Professor Aldridge was not an unkind woman. She had sharp eyes behind square-framed glasses and a habit of pausing for a long time before she spoke, like she was choosing her words carefully. She looked at you now the way she always looked at things she was trying to understand.
“This is your second exam under a seventy,” she said, not accusatory, just factual. She folded her hands on top of her desk. “I want to talk about what’s happening.”
“I know the material,” you said, and then immediately felt how defensive it sounded. “I mean, I think I do. And then I get in here and it just.”
“Doesn’t translate.”
“Yeah.”
She nodded slowly. “That tells me the issue isn’t comprehension. It’s retention and application under pressure.” She slid a printed sheet across the desk. “I want you to look at the tutoring resources the department has available. There are a few graduate students who take appointments, and the writing center can help if your essay responses are where you’re losing points.” She tapped the paper. “Which they are.”
You picked it up. There were three names listed, email addresses beside each one, and a note at the bottom about the campus library hosting drop-in study hours on Thursdays.
“I don’t want to see you fail this class,” Professor Aldridge said. “You clearly have an interest in the subject. Your participation is good. But interest alone won’t get you through the midterm.”
“I know.” You folded the paper in half. “I’ll reach out.”
“Good.” She gave you a small, decisive nod that meant the conversation was over. “Office hours are Tuesdays if you need me.”
You thanked her and walked out into the hallway, blinking against the fluorescent light. The paper felt heavier than it should have in your hand.
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