soft like glass @luvgods - Tumblr Blog

Sep 17, 2025

Y/N is still peering at him, and honestly, Harry is fully expecting her to either scoff and roll her eyes before denying, or laughing so hard she snorts, then denying. Either way she responded, he imagined her denying him, telling him he was going to be golfing by himself and that she refused to be involved. Golf is golf, at the end of the day. If you aren’t interested in it, then it could be the most miserable thing in the world.

Instead, she straightens out, “Fine,” she agreed, “But Niall gets to come. He likes golf.”

“Done,” Harry answers instantly.

“ – and you owe me something. I don’t know what yet, though.”

Harry blinked at her, “Like – owe you what?”

“Didn’t I just say I didn’t know yet?” She locks her phone, slips it into her back pocket, “You don’t listen at all, do you? I’ll be back in an hour.”

Harry's secret is out & he's totally normal and cool about it (he isn't)

part 1

part 2

(21.9k+ words)

iii.

Tapiocaenthuiast? What kind of name is that?

That was Y/N’s first thought when she saw the username pop up on her screen, with a little cat emoticon doing a thumbs-up. Of all the things that have come from camming, she always found that reading the usernames was more fun than she initially thought it would be. Some people she could tell they used a variation of their name, unashamed in their enjoyment, while others came up with elaborate pseudonames – like pochitopochacco87 and footjobbb22. She finds unremitted glee in reading the different names, guessing what kind of vibe they would have in a comment, what they might ask for, if they’ll ask for anything at all (because with a name like ‘footjobbb22’ it’s kind of easy to guess what he may be interested in). Niall likes to guess too – he interacts with everyone a little more than she can, being the moderator and all.

Tapiocaenthuias93 was just kind of funny to her for whatever reason. Did they like boba? And if they did, then why didn’t they just choose a boba-themed name? Unless they were like. . .really into tapioca pudding. If so, what were they, in their 80s? Did she have an elderly viewer? It would definitely diversify her demographics.

That’s what makes her call them out, that very first time.

“Hi Tapiocaenthuiast? Do you like boba?” She smiled at the camera, curious about what the response might be. When there was none for quite some time, she had thought, Wow, okay, it’s definitely an 80-year-old, does he not know how to pull up the keyboard? Still, she plays it off, asks if he’s shy, makes some comment that alludes to him jerking off, then intends to move on and leave him be. What if he just took viagra or something? She would at least let the old man ride it out and have a good time.

tapiocaenthuiast93 tipped 3000 coins!

Y/N’s eyes went wide. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Niall’s message preview on the upper right-hand corner of the screen that read a very sophisticated HOLY SHIT???? She was so stunned by the amount (which equated to around 300 quid) that she almost missed the reply. It was the most anyone had ever tipped her at a time.

Y/N keeps interacting with him, and he keeps tipping these outrageous amounts, and each message Niall sends is a couple of curses followed by a punctuation keysmash. He seems sweet enough, not very demanding (compared to some high-tipping users, who like to feel entitled to what they think they deserve for tipping well – Y/N’s lucky that they like she’s a brat, or else they would probably stop tipping her, with how she responds to them), and is apparently fucking loaded.

He guides Y/N into a quick and intense orgasm, enough money to take care of more than half of her rent, and then promptly disappears for a couple of weeks. Not entirely, however – he wasn’t catching her lives, but she could see him carefully weeding his way through her videos. Y/N doesn’t know if he knew that, but she could see the stats: how often people went back to view a certain video, what parts they replayed the most. She pays a little extra per month to view it. And tapiocaenthuiast93 has gone through a ton of videos every single night, sometimes multiple a night, but he’d never catch another live.

It was confusing, Y/N was perplexed by it for a couple of days, but then forgot about it. Why worry about it, right? He’s getting past these paywalls, enjoying her content, probably rubbing his palm raw – she’s okay with that. She goes about her business, exists, forgets about it, then continues as normal.

Until he was suddenly in her livestream again, suddenly tipping a ton again, using the recommended emoticons because he’d tipped a certain amount. She teased him, she brought up her boss, he asked about the watch, told her to use the pink silicone vibrator (the one she uses often, and he knew that she liked it), and then stayed the entire duration of the 2-hour stream. He’d donated close to 2000 quid, which again, had Niall keysmashing and cursing in their message thread, and Y/N definitely needed to create a special thing for him. Maybe a private stream? Maybe she could send him her panties in the mail? Y/N doesn’t know – she should give him something, though, right?

She’d drafted a message a couple of times, sending it to Niall, he told her it was okay, then she’d scrap it immediately. Y/N just couldn’t decide. Nothing seemed as worth it as the money that he’d paid. And she couldn’t even pour her full effort into coming up with something because of how busy the following week was going to be at work. So it had to go on the back burner. And once again, tapiocaenthuisast is lost in the whirlwind of meetings, fittings, and getting prepared for a gala full of rich people that would undoubtedly make her roll her eyes, with every breath that leaves their mouth.

Then at the gala, she’s a little tipsy. She has been eating finger foods and sipping on champagne that has a little higher alcohol content than she was expecting, and so she takes a sneaky photo in the bathroom of her thighs in the dress. Hiking up the skirt, showing off the soft, smooth skin, the peek of her panties between her legs, and the promise of a livestream when she gets home that night. As soon as she sent it, there was a vibration in the purse that she held on her shoulder. Which could have been a coincidence, but there was a twist in her belly – something that raised red alarms, when she slipped her hands into the purse, pulled out her boss's phone, and saw the notification from her camming site.

Wow.

What the fuck?

Harry Styles is Y/N’s sometimes borderline incompetent boss.

When she met him, she wanted to beat his ass almost instantly. A useless nepotism baby, who got handed a company with zero experience and zero reasoning, apart from being born into the right family. Whereas Y/N had to fight to get into university, she had to work hard to join clubs, do well in her classes, work throughout all of that to pay for it – and even with that, she knew that taking a low-position job at a company would be better than nothing at all. Right out of college, there was no time to wait for a better job to come – after several times interviewing for a position that she was more than qualified for (almost overqualified for), and it was snatched from her by someone severely underqualified because they were a man. It makes her grit her teeth, but she struggles and bears through it. What else could she do but keep striving forward?

So she takes the low position, just as a secretary at first, for a floor manager. And in just a couple of months, she tempts and prods her way into a personal assistant position that is about to open up. The company was big, but also relatively small, if that made any sense. The owner ran as the CEO, so he would be passing the same title down to his son, who would need a personal assistant to help him organize his life. From the start, Marjorie (the woman who trained her) explained that Harry was sweet.

“He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body,” she explained to her, “And with that, he doesn’t really strike me as the type to be able to. . .run the company, entirely by himself. I’ve seen your resume, what you’ve done, and what you can do – his father trusts that you’ll help him keep things in order, yeah? Just do your best.” She fixed a stray piece of hair that had fallen from Y/N’s ponytail, sliding it back inside the elastic, “And try to ignore the urge to slap him when he does something stupid.”

The thing is, Harry probably sees the most of Y/N’s actual personality. To everyone else, she can be soft and sweet, put on a bright smile, and tell them everything they want to hear, but very early on, she realized she wouldn’t be doing that with Harry. They weren’t super close in age, but close enough that Y/N was irritated that he had a company to his name that he didn’t necessarily deserve. The first time he met her was his first day on the job, and she realized he was far more hopeless than she’d originally thought – all big, panicked doe eyes asking her where he was supposed to go for this meeting about 10 different times, who the meeting was with, and what they would be talking about.

“What do you think I should say?” He asked her, his bottom lip had a worried indent from his teeth, “Like, if they want to sell in our stores? Should I hardball them, or would it be a good idea to be friendly?”

Y/N’s brows furrowed, and before she could stop herself, she grumbled, “Huh? What do I look like, a business partner? I’m just here to tell you what time it is and where you need to be.”

He looked at her like a kicked dog, staring out from the glass window of a kennel. “Will you sit in there with me?”

And really, Y/N didn’t take this job to hold someone’s hand through their job. . .but they’d only just met. She relented, sat with him during the meeting, watched him fumble his way through it, then debriefed him on how it probably should have gone. “Didn’t you train with your father at all? Or did you just not bother to pay attention?”

“I paid attention!” He replied defensively, she remembered, fixing his tie, “I’m just nervous, okay? Isn’t it fair to be nervous on your first day?”

“No,” Y/N answered, even though she thought otherwise. It was just easy to say, and all Harry did in retaliation was pout at her. She went to the rest of the meetings with him that day, though.

That’s just how their relationship was. Boss and employee, but the employee kind of spoke to the boss however she wanted, and all he did was fuss a little, frown, but let her continue onward. It helped that Y/N was good at her job, and accidentally Pavlov’d him into needing her, so it worked out. Y/N debriefs him on everything before they do it, she color coordinates and arranges his calendar accordingly, she takes calls, and schedules things that she knows he would forget otherwise. Then, when she started noticing the weight of his position affecting him, she tracked his water intake, made him get one of those fancy rings that track how much rest you’re getting at night, and had him look over the statistics in the morning with her. If he doesn’t eat, she forces him to take lunch. If he starts to sniffle, she chucks an orange at him and orders a herbal tea to soothe his throat.

The longer he was in the position, the more confident he’d become, and Y/N knew that part of it was thanks to her. She’s good at what she does, and even though she doesn’t baby him, even though she’s short with him, she makes him second-guess things, and sends angry cat emoticons to him via email if he’s annoyed her enough that day. . .she did find herself wanting him to succeed. Even if it pissed her off, she couldn’t blame the guy for being born into wealth and, therefore, born into this position. Plus, it helped that he never acted entitled – like it was something that he deserved. He knew that he was fortunate to have this, and he knew when he was out of his depth. So it made it easier to work with him. And Y/N enjoyed not having to lick her boss’s arse, so it was a win-win.

“I reckon he has a big fat crush on you,” Niall had suggested one morning at his desk. He gets there early enough, before anyone has even thought about coming in for the day. The only people ever there that early are her and sometimes Harry, if he finishes his run quickly. That day, it had just been her and Niall, “Either that, or he’s super into brats. But not like brat-taming, ‘cos he’s kind of pathetic. Maybe he just likes that you kind of boss him around a little – oh my god, he’s a submissive.”

Y/N huffed a breath through her nose, “Sure,” she rolled her eyes at him, “Maybe he’ll promise to give me half of the company too.”

“He probably would if you asked nicely enough,” Niall shrugged.

She never thought anything of it. Was he cute in a sweet, pathetic kind of way? Yeah, of course he was, but he was also kind of annoying. Plus, Y/N had seen what his type is – she by no means looks like Rafayel, Kai, or even Aki, who he’s all flushed cheeks and flirty with. She doesn’t act like them either; she’s much rougher with him, with her tongue, with how she treats him. Harry seemed like someone who wanted somebody delicate and gentle, who gave him honeyed compliments to feed the ego she bruises daily.

So, yeah – she’s very surprised to find out that he’s been watching her streams. Even more surprised to find out that it was what had him looking so refreshed as of late, and even more surprised to find out he was tapiocaenthuiast93 (and a little endeared, because of course he would try and throw her off with the name, by acting like he liked something he vocally dislikes, and lowering his birth year by one measly number). Then she’s just downright shocked by how easily he drops to his knees for her, how good he is with his tongue, how he seems to know exactly what she likes and how she likes it because he’d watched so many of her fucking videos, he’d just picked it up.

It was insane, all of it. She knew they were both tipsy, but the revelation had seemed to sober them both up pretty quickly. Now what was left was Y/N wobbly on her legs post-orgasm, and Harry looking entirely too blissed out, pussy drunk in every sense of the word, enough to almost walk out of the bathroom with his mouth and chin still glistening from her. They needed to talk, but they needed to see through the rest of the gala – at least until Callum brought out his runway looks. Then they could wrap it up, go to Harry’s (or Y/N’s), and discuss whatever the fuck just happened.

For the first time in their dynamic, Y/N is the most nervous one, she thinks. Or, well, maybe she knows, because by the time they make it back to the event, Harry is still looking at everyone with bones relaxed and a dazed smile.

Y/N is like – so not happy about Niall being right. She is trying to decide whether or not she would tell him that he was right, when they get distracted by the ambassador of Kering. She may be out of her depth with Harry right now, but she was very much in her depth when it came to schmoozing rich people wearing jewelry probably worth her yearly salary. If she focuses on that, then maybe she could relax a bit, settle into her bones better for what should be a lengthy discussion on how this is inappropriate, that they shouldn’t have done that – that Harry shouldn’t be watching her videos.

. . .

Schmoozing the rich doesn’t help at all, actually.

They were only there for an hour more before heading out. It wasn’t like they could necessarily discuss any of the matters at hand in the car because they had a driver there with them, and it was an SUV, not a limo, so there was no partition. That means Y/N has a whole car ride to try and decide what the fuck to say, while Harry still looks entirely too blissed out to her right. He’s been softly smiling since they left the bathroom, his cheeks keep flushing every time they make eye contact, and Y/N has absolutely no idea what’s going on in his head – if anything is going on in there at all.

This whole situation is so crazy; she doesn’t know how he isn’t panicking about this. Does he really like eating pussy that much? Y/N doesn’t want to say she’s shocked, but. . .like, she’s human, she’s thought about what her boss might be like in bed. And with how needy he is with everything else in life, he kind of struck her as something like a pillow princess. Someone who wanted it to be all about him, getting him off, and if you got off too, well, that was just a happy addition to him cumming.

Never would she have guessed he was the type to sink to his knees and eat her out the way he did. Even when she teased him, said that she bet if she told him to, he would – she was still shocked when he did it. And twice as shocked when he was so invested in making her cum, got his whole face into it, moaning and whining against her, grabbing onto her thighs like he needed to melt his hands into her body. His irises were almost completely black, his pupils blown, eating up the pretty green that she was usually looking at her. Y/N was kind of obsessed with the image of him on his knees in front of her – she thinks it’s almost criminal that nobody else got to witness that, especially the way his eyes rolled, when she rocked into his face as she came.

But this would get like – way too messy, right? If they did again. Even if he looked cute when he asked her if he could do it again, because he did well. Is this what Kai is experiencing? Because wow – Y/N has just never had anything like it. Even with guys who swear up and down they love to eat pussy, she’s never had someone so ecstatic between her legs before. It both frightens and excites her what he would have done if there was more time, but –

“Hey,” Harry yanks her from her thoughts, his hand on her thigh, his fingers squeeze to grab her attention (but she also thinks he just wanted an excuse to), “We’re here.”

“Oh,” they had gotten there much quicker than she anticipated. She sort of hoped the drive would drag on a little longer so she could gather her thoughts, but instead she just thought about him eating her out the whole time. This is fucking crazy – how is she going to focus? “Okay, shit, where’s my purse?”

“I have it,” he lets it hang off his fingers, clutching it tight, “C’mon.”

Y/N follows after him, though she knows the way from the number of times she’s come to angrily knock at his door. She’s in a haze, forcing her brain to make a bullet point list on what they should talk about and how they should talk about it. Harry still looks a little silly; sweet and shy, like he’d still be happy to have his face glistening up to this point. He’d undone a button or two in the car, so she could see more of his skin, and Y/N imagined burying her face into his chest and dragging her tongue against him. She could dig her teeth into the muscle too, close to his nipples – are they sensitive? She bets he could cum just from her touching them, and –

“Do you want any water?” Fuck! She needs to lock in – when the hell did they make it up to his flat? Y/N cannot focus literally at all, “Or – I have juice.”

“Water is okay,” Y/N answers, watching Harry place her purse on the kitchen counter gently. She doesn’t know what to do, or where to go, so she just shows herself to the sofa. His flat was spacious – way too big for just one person, and she thinks he needs a cat or something to fill in the space. Maybe a ferret? A couple of bunnies – she isn’t sure, she figures it has to get so lonely here. His sofas are big and grey (she’s thankful, because for some reason rich people think they need white uncomfortable couches, but it seems like Harry chose comfort), and it feels like her body is melting into the cushions. He has a fake fireplace that probably feels really nice, and a huge telly that she doesn’t think he uses nearly enough – he always moans something about screen time, rotting the brain, yada, yada, yada – it’s a line that she would usually say, but he said it first, so she doesn’t like it. It’s actually her self-proclaimed job to counteract everything he says.

Harry fiddles about in his kitchen for a while. If she were of a different mindframe, she’d ask if he wasn’t used to getting his own water, being rich and all, he probably had a maid for that or something. By the time he shows up, he has two glasses, water filled with ice cubes, little umbrellas sticking out, and a straw with a slice of lemon. Y/N laughs a little, especially when she sees the big smile on his face, “Here you goooooo,” he hums.

“Thank you,” she takes the glass, it is cold against her fingers and even colder in her mouth when she takes the straw through her lips and slurps it down. It gave her only a couple more seconds before she decided she was just going to have to wing it, whatever she decided to say. “I guess I – I mean, maybe it would be easier if you just asked me questions and I answered what you wanted to know?”

He is also taking a drink, but Harry drinks so much that nearly 3/4ths of the water is gone before he sets it down on his coffee table. He blinks a couple of times, like he’s trying to decide what to ask, what’s the most important to him. “I guess, my first question is – like, why? Not that I’m judging! Obviously, not that I’m judging! I just wondered if it was money, or if it was. . .if you were just into it?”

Y/N thinks back to her senior year of university. She thinks about the cam site she found one night, nibbling at her bottom lip and the tip of her thumbnail. She remembers the first stream she watched, saw the coins pile in, watched a couple get paid for talking, for stripping down, for fucking, and immediately felt her mind start to work. Y/N remembered looking into a ton of different videos online, talking about camwork, the pros and cons, how it works, and where to get your start. She scoured forums and blogs to read about it, the best cameras for it, the best microphones, and how all of those attachments worked. She searched it on Twitter when it was still Twitter — she got all the information she could, because that’s what she does. Y/N is nothing if not inclined to be the utmost prepared, even if it’s something that never fully came to fruition.

But then she had to think about it – if she was interested in being watched. Y/N guesses she never thought about it before. She knew that she would be annoyed if someone wasn’t watching her while she was on top of them, but that’s kind of it. Y/N had never considered voyeurism, on either end.

So she set something up. It wasn’t that hard to find one guy to fuck and his friend to watch, because it was college, and everyone was horny. There was a guy in her sophomore year chem lab who always lingered around the periphery of her friend group, at most parties she was at, but she never really knew him that well – he was more than willing to sleep with her. And his friend, who had just happened to be there that night (and also very beautiful, honestly, too beautiful for her to be able to sleep with because she would’ve just been panicking the whole time), was down to watch them.

And Y/N. . .had never cum so hard in her life.

Everything kind of fell into place then. At first, it was kind of just a fun little side thing to do when she was horny. Then one particular stream she made 400 quid after edging herself for two hours, which was something she would have done that day anyway, and she figured that she could keep this going more regularly. It helped with bills, too, when she couldn’t get hours at work, or when she needed fewer hours to focus on midterms and finals. She had been making more money in 3 hours than she would in an 8-hour shift, so it kind of just made sense.

Y/N didn’t think it was something she’d want to do long term, however, or at least not for the rest of her life. It makes dating hard, honestly, because people get weird once she lets them know about this aspect of her day-to-day. The only person not to bat an eyelash was Niall, who offered to be her moderator to weed out the creepy or shitty comments that she’d been complaining to him about one day and help her spitball ideas for different streams. Otherwise, the people she was interested in dating clammed up, asked to know a bit more about it, and the relationship never lasted much longer after that. She’d given up dating at some point, after a while.

Anyway, she kept it up going into her new job because – again, the money is good. Not that she doesn’t get paid a good amount for her salary, but nowhere near how much she should be getting in the grand scheme. And nowhere near enough to indulge in things she likes, like pretty clothes, the two sequels to a book she hadn’t finished reading yet, and every so often, she can schedule a spa day kind of thing. She works hard for her money, and she spends it as she sees fit. Even if some of it seems trivial, it's what makes her happy.

“The money is good from it – but you already know that,” Y/N answers, and it’s just so cute how pink Harry gets – all rosy and flushed, like he was finding out that she knew, that he knew, all over again, “And it turns me on to be watched, so yeah, s’kind of like. . .best of both worlds, y’know?”

He brought the straw to his mouth again, taking another drink before he replied, “Ah, yeah, okay, that’s – I get that,” he scratched his arm, “How long have you been doing it?”

“Since college,” Harry hums, “I used to post more frequently back then, but now you keep me so busy it’s hard to.”

“Sorry,” he apologizes sheepishly, like he isn’t her boss, “Do other people know? Like your friends or anyone?”

Y/N nods, “My friends, yeah. Niall knows – I think he’s the only person that you would know that also knows,” she runs the pad of her thumb and index finger along the upper slit of her dress, just fiddling, giving herself something to do while she kind of goes out of her way to avoid looking at him. Y/N isn’t sure why she’s feeling so shy, really – she hates this. She likes it better when Harry is the one who is all uncomfortable and wriggly, “Otherwise no.”

“Ah, I see. Are you. . .I guess I was wondering if you were ever worried that people would find it?” Harry leans back into his sofa, and he stretches himself out, which moves the fabric of his shirt and shows more skin. Y/N’s mouth waters – he isn’t even trying to be sexy or anything, he’s just relaxing, but Y/N imagines crawling into his lap, and then she smothers that thought under his plush couch cushions.

“Ah, I mean,” she shrugs, “If it was ever an issue, there’s an option where you can archive the account – make it look like it doesn’t exist at all? So I always kind of just planned to gaslight whoever found me.”

Harry blinks at her for a second, scratching along the line of his jaw, “Are you planning on gaslighting me?”

She rolled her eyes, "Obviously not, dummy.” Y/N shook her head, “Why would I be talking to you about all of this if I was planning to trick you? Honestly, I probably would have tried to, but I was caught off guard tonight. More so now that I know who you are.” He hums, nodding, plucking at his bottom lip, “How did you. . .find me? And when you realized it was me, why didn’t you like. . .I don’t know – I’m shocked you didn’t report me to HR immediately.”

“Oh, of course not,” Harry sat up a little straighter, shaking his head, “I mean, even if I didn’t start watching, I wouldn’t have done anything, y’know? Because really, it isn’t any of my business. I first – I found you by accident one night, because you were recommended by this old account that I used to watch a while back. And at first, I was going to try and ignore it, because. . .again – I didn’t think it was my business, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” He admitted, then he’s sitting all the way up again, leaning forward – not toward her, but back toward his water, “Like – I had just been with Rafayel and Kai, back-to-back, and I was still just itching under my skin, and I was kind of drunk, so I looked you up again, and you were streaming, so – y’know. And then I slept better than I had in months, so I kept watching.”

Y/N considers all of this, and now she’s sat up too, leaning forward, pulling her legs up on the sofa. She criss-crosses them the best she can in the dress in an effort to get comfortable, and she doesn’t care if the fabric stretches out – it was bought on the company card anyway. “Why did you give me so much money, then? Not that I don’t appreciate it, but I guess I’m just shocked. . .it was a lot.” Y/N plucked at her bottom lip, pulling, “You could’ve just given me a bonus if you thought you wanted to give me more money.”

“I – at first it was kind of out of guilt,” he explained, “When I – I mean, I just thought if I was going to be watching you without your permission, then I might as well give you something. I was never expecting to like. . .y’know –”

“Talk me through an orgasm?”

Harry grimaced at himself, “Ah, yeah,” he scratched behind his neck, “You’re good at what you do though, y’know? So I just. . .I wanted to pay you back for it. I hadn’t been that relaxed in so long; you deserved to get money for it. But I couldn’t just like – hand you a lump sum and say it's because I watch you get off.” Y/N snorted, as Harry’s hand slid from his neck, resting in his lap, “I guess, my biggest question is. . .is if you want me to stop watching? Because I will! I obviously will, if you don’t want me to, I’ll get rid of my account and never watch or speak about it again.”

With a tilt of her head, she watches him closely. His face has been pink the entire time they’ve been speaking, even though Y/N is trying to be matter-of-fact about the whole thing. Harry is so flushed and embarrassed for someone who had just whined against her pussy two hours ago; it’s more endearing than she’d like to admit. The smart thing to do would be to ignore the endeared, soft spot in her heart that she secretly harbored for him and tell him yes, she wants him to stop watching.

“No, you don’t have to stop,” she answered anyway, plucking at her bottom lip, but then to make sure there was definitely no misconstrued understanding, she continued, “I mean, you’ve been taking care of the company much better now that you’re getting a regular, full nights sleep and are taking your off days to actually relax. If I took that away from you, I’d have to start working twice as hard again.”

It’s easiest to say it that way. Honestly, Y/N doesn’t really know why she wants Harry to keep watching her; she just knows that it gives her a little bit of a headrush. He sees her all day at work, prim and proper (as proper as one can be, telling your boss off for every move he makes), and then he goes home and jerks off to her in his room, with the lights low, and a video of her riding something on the screen. He ate her out at a party like he’d been thinking about it for months.

She liked it – it turned her on. If knowing a ton of strangers liked to watch her get off got her all worked up, then knowing her incompetent boss couldn’t help but touch himself watching her – well, that just does things she can’t quite describe. It feels like something intense in her body; her cells shiver with it.

Harry smiles – she doesn’t know if he’s on to her or not, but he seems relieved, “Okay,” he nods his head, “And about – like, do you think. . .I mean, I did pretty well in the bathroom, right?”

Y/N stares at him, something bratty crawls through her chest like it does every time she sees him. Only the thing is, when Y/N’s bratty, she used to think she wanted someone dominant to correct her. To meet her brattiness head-on, set her straight, get her right. But with Harry, he’s always just let her be a brat. He does nothing about it but sighs and grumbles, and she likes his reluctance to stop her from fussing and whining and complaining and doing what she wants. A bratty power bottom and her subby top – doesn’t that sound delicious? It does to her, at least. That would be a good title for a livestream.

“What did you do in the bathroom?” She inquires instead of affirming him, and the look on his face is even better than Y/N imagined. Confusion twists on his features; she can see the panic crossing his eyes like he’s wondering if he’d hallucinated the whole thing.

Maybe it’s because he’s drunk or because he’s just a little dumb (her favorite type of man is a kind of dumb one), but he tries to remind her, “Oh, uh – y’know. When I was on my knees for you?” Y/N tilted her head like she really didn’t know, “When I tasted you?” He supplied, sounding embarrassed and shy, and Y/N wanted to dig her teeth into any part of his body and chew.

“Ohhhh, yeah, I remember that,” she hums, “You’re wondering if we can do that again, huh?” Harry nods quickly, swallowing hard enough that she can see his Adam’s apple bob with it, “Hm, yeah, sure. If I’m in the mood.”

It’s meant to come off flippant, distant, make him wonder if she even liked it, but Harry – bless him – smiles, seeming even more relieved than when he realized he could keep watching her, “Oh, good,” he scratches the side of his head, “Just let me know when – when you want. I’ll do it whenever.”

God, what was she going to do with him?

. . .

Things were. . normal lately.

At least they were as normal as they could be, all things considered. When Y/N and Harry went back to work the day following the gala, Harry wasn’t greeted with Y/N’s flirty smile and a well-thought-out innuendo that would allude to anything. Instead, he was met with her same indifferent, but also still slightly annoyed expression when he walked into the office. He greeted her as he always does, and was left ignored as he always is, only for her to pop in front of his desk five minutes later with his schedule for the day. It was time for budget management, Harry’s least favorite part of the job, just because of how dreadfully boring it was. Y/N knew this when her introduction was, “It’s your favorite week of the month,” before rattling off all of the reports and graphs that had been sent to him.

So he understands that work life wouldn’t change a bit. Which he expected, if he’s honest. Y/N is not someone who lets outside influences affect her work. There was a week where Harry had accidentally upset her – he can’t even remember what he’d said or done to put her off, but he knew that when she stormed off without her usual quip, he’d fucked up pretty bad. Even with how angry she’d been at him, she still did her job dutifully, never sparing a detail to make him look stupid at a meeting, never disrupting the normal flow of their day out of spite for him. Sometimes her words were a little more biting; he remembered that, but they were biting because she wasn’t being her typical self. Wasn’t scolding him, or calling him dumb in her roundabout way. It stressed him out that she was just acting like a normal personal assistant, which was his hint somewhere that he didn’t want a normal assistant at all, no matter how often he would fuss to himself that he did.

He found out a pretty big secret of hers, now she knows that he knows, but it still feels like she’s the one in power. And she is, really – Harry isn’t the type of person to hold something like that over her head. If anything, he’s the pervert for watching her, honestly. He’d keep this to himself, and she knows that he will, because. . .well, he’d do anything she said he thinks. Now that he’s tasted her. Now that he knows what it’s like to be on his knees for her, his face smushed between her thighs.

It’s all he can think about. His dick is rubbed raw by the next week, almost begging him not to touch it, but he just can’t help it! Every time his brain supplies him with an image of her cunt right in front of his face, his prick twitches. Hell, if the wind blows, it tickles his olfactory nerve, and he remembers the heady scent, how it made him dizzy, how badly he wants to be smushed between her thighs again. If he could just have more time, he thinks he’d spend hours between her thighs, wet his face until his jaw was sore, and his tongue ached.

Harry doesn’t know how to bring it up, though. He isn’t sure if he’s allowed to bring it up, as he thinks Y/N might be put off by him mentioning it. She sure as hell doesn’t mention a thing. Y/N is still just as fussy as she’s always been, telling him off for being annoying, saying no when he asks her for something before doing it anyway. Y/N acts as if nothing had changed between them, so he tries to follow suit. He doesn’t know why it would matter if she were a little nicer to him at work – nobody would question it because when people are in front of them, Y/N acts like the most devoted, sweet personal assistant anyone has ever met.

But beyond closed doors, she was as she always was. Thinking about it makes him want to blow raspberries, resting his chin in his palm in the most flustered, unsure, coming-of-age movie way. When one of his floor managers came in, that’s actually exactly how he was sitting, and Veda – who runs project management – greets him with an, “Oh – sir? Are you okay?”

Harry just. . .now that he’s had a taste of her, he doesn’t know if he’s ever going to be able to forget it. His dick surely can’t.

The next Friday, Harry goes home, fully expecting to fuck his hand and bite onto his pillow, daydream about Y/N knocking on his door and telling him to go lie on his bed so that she could sit on his face until he falls asleep. When his phone buzzes on his kitchen counter, however, when he’s getting a glass of ice water before he goes to bed. He thinks that it’s maybe Kai, whom he’d messaged earlier, asking if she had plans the next day. Kai, if he asked her, would probably fuck him until he couldn’t keep his eyes open. Maybe she would edge him – he could ask her to edge him for hours, and she might be into that. She liked to edge him, but as soon as he gets whiny, she usually goes easy on him.

But Harry thinks Y/N would be mean to him. Make him wait until he was crying, begging, unable to stop his hips from bucking into her hand, and maybe a little cum dripping out when she tears her hand away. Fuck, the thought makes his cock twitch again – he was actually trying to decide what video of hers he would watch tonight to cum.

When he grabbed his phone, the reason it vibrated was because of a notification from the streaming app. Y/N was live – the first live since they’d established that he knew.

Harry hesitated when he was about to swipe to open it on his phone. Digging his teeth into his bottom lip, he takes his phone and his water back to his room, wondering what he should do. Y/N said that he could keep watching – told him that if he didn’t, then he’d be too tired to do his job correctly. He had the green light, but. . .still, he’s kind of worried. Would it be weird? Did she mean it when she said he could keep watching, or was she just trying not to make it awkward? Is he allowed to spend money and interact with the stream, or would that be too much? Did she just want him to watch from afar and mind his business? Or – wait, did she mean he could still watch the streams or just the videos of the streams afterward? Fuck! He should have asked for specifics.

In the time it takes Harry to chew a hole through his lip, his phone buzzes again, this time with a message, and it's not Kai, but Y/N. His heart starts thudding almost instantly as he clicks it and opens her thread.

Why aren’t you on yet? I know you don’t have plans tonight ₍^. .^₎⟆

Oh.

Oh, she wants him on? Wow, that’s – Harry wasn’t really expecting that at all. He’d imagined things going a couple of ways, and one of them was him showing up on the livestream and her immediately kicking him out. Another option was for him to show up to the livestream, causing her to become uncomfortable, and then for him to receive a polite message asking him to leave. Or, there was the third option, where he would go on, she’d ignore him, he’d be just another quiet spectator, and they’d pretend like it wasn’t happening.

But no, Y/N had been looking for him – waiting for his user to pop up. His mouth feels dry when he clicks onto the app; the screen takes a second to load, catching up to where she is on the live feed. When it does, she appears where she’d been sitting the last time, surrounded by all the pillows on the floor, in a little nooked corner of her room. She looks comfortable, content, and when she notices the notification that says tapiocaenthuiast93 has joined the live! - the grin on her face stretches wide.

“Hiiii Tappy,” she hums, plucking at her bottom lip with her thumb and forefinger, “You came just in time – I’m about to reveal something really sweet.”

Harry’s breath leaves him. His hands hover over the screen, trying to decide – she clearly wanted him in here. Plus, she never told him that tipping or participating wasn’t allowed, so she must like it, to some extent. Or else she would tell him if she didn’t, because that’s the kind of person she was – he could trust that she wouldn’t allow him if she wasn’t 1000% okay with it.

Still, it feels. . .extra naughty, somehow. Before, the rush of his blood through his veins and the roar of it in his ears was due to her not knowing. It felt filthy to be her boss, watching her get off, seeing her that way without her realizing it, and there was a good amount of guilt that sat in his chest because of it. Even with that guilt lifted, though, the fact that Y/N knows it’s him, her boss, watching and paying her, seems more depraved. He doesn’t know how to explain it; he just knows that his dick somehow feels 10 times harder like this, which he hadn’t thought was possible. He’s almost a little dizzy from how quickly it happens.

tapiocaenthuiast93 tipped 4000 coins!

I’m excited. You’re already so sweet, I can’t imagine there to be something sweeter to show.

Y/N’s eyes go wide, and a breathless chuckle leaves her mouth. The comment section blows up, kind of how it always does when Harry enters and starts tipping, people wondering if he was famous or something, because jesus christ man, how is he able to tip that much? None of them has pieced together that he’s actually the CEO of a fashion company, and he’s definitely not going to give them the facilities to do so. He ignores all of the questions asking what he does for work – he ignores most of the comments, actually, because he isn’t there to chat. Don’t get him wrong, he loves the sense of community that something like this can evoke, but he’s also preoccupied with a hand down his pants and the woman on his screen.

“Show off,” she murmurs, but the smile on her mouth is pretty – her lips look extra glossy too. She isn’t in the same outfit she wore to work today, but instead in a sweater that’s just a bit too big for her. The sleeves come down to cover her palms, and he thinks it might be the cutest thing he’s ever seen. When she sits up on her knees and starts to pull up the end of the sweater, it’s pretty clear to him that she has nothing on beneath it besides the most useless little pair of panties. She keeps them on, though, twisting on her knees so that her bum is facing the camera. The underwear is a sheer, shimmering, pink fabric, so he could just barely make out the wide, heart-shaped end of a plug, nestled right against her bum.

She flattens her hand against one cheek, spreading a little, “Can you see it?” She inquires, “I put it in special. Wolfie32 asked me to last stream, because he’s a filthy pervert and thinks my bum is cute.” Y/N sways her bum side to side before pivoting back around, resting on her heels. Harry’s cock pulses in his briefs, because he seriously. . .he can’t even think about it. Harry had tasted how sweet it was to be between her legs; he could only imagine how good it would feel. And he’s no stranger to anal play. If he, one day, could slip into her pussy and have his fingers hooked into her cute bum, then he thinks he’d probably explode inside of her and still stay hard. If she let him fuck her bum, he wouldn’t even know what he would do. Has someone fucked her bum before? Did she even want that?

tapiocaenthuiast93 tipped 2000 coins!

So pretty ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

Has anyone ever played with your pretty bum before?

Y/N shook her head shyly, “No, not yet,” she replied, and yet definitely meant that there was a chance it could happen, “I’m shy, y’know? I can’t just let anyone play there.” There’s a couple of seconds that go by, and her mouth drops open, “Hey, I can to be shy!”

Harry would be hard-pressed to believe that shyness was something she could feel, if not for the way that she’d acted the other night, when she found out that he knew. How spacy and in her head she got before they really started talking it out, was something Harry had never exactly witnessed before. With how she presents herself, Harry couldn’t have ever imagined her as bashful about anything before then.

“I’ve always – I mean, I’ve always kind of been into the thought of double penetration, but I don’t know if I could handle it, really,” she tells them honestly, “Like, I think I’d get too worked up, y’know? I’d probably pass out in the middle or something embarrassing. Plus, it isn’t that hard to fuck me stupid, believe it or not.” This is information Harry definitely didn’t need to know, because he’s certain he’d think about it forever.

The problem with Y/N is that she sort of just checks off every version of his sexual appetite. Sure, he hasn’t actually been with her, but what he’s seen from her videos and what she’s into, he knows that Y/N is a switch through and through. There’s a part of her that could lead, take the dominant role, edge him until he was weepy and twitching, begging her to let him cum just like he’d been fantasizing – and then there was the part of her that was easily fucked stupid. The part of her that would demand he get on his knees in a bathroom and eat her out, and the part of her that was breathless, thighs shaking, looking so cute that he just wanted to carry her into bed and make her feel good all of the time.

It was hard because now he thinks he needs to be with her. See every aspect of that that he’s able to. But just because he knows about her hobby, it doesn’t mean he’s entitled to having her body outside of watching like this. Just because she let him taste her once, when they were both tipsy, doesn’t mean that he would ever be able to lick into her again. That’s why he won’t bring it up to her, no matter how desperate he is.

“Anyway,” she lets the sweater fall back down, the knitted fabric hanging back over her leg until about mid-thigh again, before she plops down to sit, though most of her weight is leaning to the right, “I promised to show you some needle felting. If you guys are supportive, then maybe I’ll grind on my Fleshlight again – how would you like that?”

Harry’s mouth waters – if this is the only way he can have her, though, then he’ll milk it to the fullest.

tapiocaenthuiast93 tipped 2000 coins!

That sounds beautiful – what are you trying to needlefelt?

. . .

The end of summer brings many things. Fall collections are starting to come out, back-to-school sales are fruitful, and people are renewing their wardrobes for the change in weather. There’s an animal print craze that Harry had seen coming from kilometers away about five months ago, because they were hitting the 20-year cycle mark (so he isn’t shocked to see that it’s what’s selling the most in stores right now). Work is busy; it seems like this year, they’ve had several peaks and barely any time in between them, but he can’t complain. Had he not been getting adequate sleep, he would probably be more worked up about it, but he’s getting his 8-9 hours and is waking up refreshed and relaxed, for. . .obvious reasons.

It’s been about a month since Y/N found out that he knew, which means about a month since they’d officially talked about it. Y/N only ever had to message him the one time to get him on her stream – now, when he gets the notification, Harry drops what he’s doing and watches. It’s not like that’s ever a huge deal; he’s barely ever out and about when she does decide to stream. If Harry were able to be a big egotist, he would think that she scheduled the streams around what he was doing. If Harry did have plans on Friday night, then the stream would happen Saturday. If he had plans for dinner and drinks on Saturday, then the stream would happen on a Friday. It was almost like she was making sure that he would be able to attend.

She talks to him in stream, calls him Tappy, plays around with him, asks him how big a dildo he thinks she could fit inside of her, or what setting of vibration she would be able to withstand on her clit. She whines and moans when she’s responding to comments, and squeezes her tit when she’s starting to feel really good, and he’s even watched her drool before, when a toy that was simulating a tongue was drenched in lube and rolling around her sensitive parts. Then come Monday, she’s got her hair pulled out of her serious face, not a hint or a mention that Harry had paid her close to a thousand quid two days ago to talk her through a squirting orgasm that got the camera wet.

Sometimes, Harry wonders if he really did hallucinate the whole conversation in the bathroom. The only thing that tells him he hadn’t is that he’s pretty sure Niall knows, only because suddenly, the moderator is always responding to Harry’s messages. Whether it be with a reaction emoji, or a keysmash if he says something particularly daring. And, if he happens to run into Niall at work, he can barely look Harry in the eye, which is the same as before, only now his cheeks get bright red, and he stumbles over his words a lot more. Harry expected Niall to know about his involvement, so he wasn’t that embarrassed, for some reason. Honestly, he thinks that because Niall acts so embarrassed, it almost wills the anxiety out of Harry. And he knew that Niall wouldn’t tell anyone, because that would be telling people about Y/N, and he wouldn’t do that.

Still, Niall is the only reason why Harry knew for sure he didn’t make all of this up out of a guilty conscious. Y/N acts as if nothing at all has changed, and if he even so much alludes to it, she acts confused. He should have seen this coming – she’s such a rotten brat, always. Why wouldn’t she make it seem like he was crazy? Why wouldn’t so go absolutely out of her way, weave through hills and valleys, to make him feel like he was going crazy? It was right up her alley.

Still, Harry is as pathetic as they come. He still makes every stream, he watches every video, he pays her money, and stays involved. What else could he do? Honestly, it still feels like a little bit of a rush every time. Part of him wondered if Y/N was doing it for that reason, but he also had the suspicion that this wasn’t for him in the slightest. Maybe one day he would feel brave enough to just bring it up himself.

He would say that, if he really looked at it, their dynamic had shifted only the most minute amount. They talk a little more about things that aren’t work-related. Y/N has been into a new show recently, and even though Harry isn’t huge on watching TV, she had ranted and raved about it enough that he felt like he could start. It was an anime that Harry was like, only vaguely familiar with, because of ads on the subway and a few promotional things they’ve been doing. It will be getting a theatrical release soon, which is why Y/N has been invested. He thinks it’s cute to hear her giggle and geek out about something like this. Especially when she gets Niall into it.

Harry had mentioned watching the first couple of episodes (which was a lie, he actually binge-watched the first two seasons in the span of a week, but he thought maybe that would seem a little like he was vying for her attention and trying to catch up with her, which. . .well, he was kind of. Plus, it was a really good show, so it was easy to keep watching episode after episode on a Saturday and Sunday, he had free (or, better yet, that he had freed up – not just to watch the show, but because he wanted to relax at home too), and it was fun to see her eyes light up. Not a hint of skepticism crossed over her face, and she even reached out and gripped his wrist gently, “Oh my god, have you been? I’m like – incredibly jealous that you’re experiencing it for the first time.” Then, with a smile so completely genuine, she plopped down on the sofa in his office, “Okay, so what are your thoughts? Who do you like most? I’ll be honest, I know the demons are bad, but all of the back stories kind of make me feel bad for them –”

It was an exciting new development. Almost more exciting than them having this dirty little secret that she was a camgirl, and he dutifully attended every single stream. At least this they could discuss, between them being boss and personal assistant. And it managed to open Y/N up to discussing other things with him, like other shows she liked, things the voice actor was in, how she ate this Mexican place last night when she was watching an episode, then she finds out that Harry hasn’t found a Mexican food place around here that he just really loves, and Y/N gasps, asks if he’d been to this one, and when finding out no – “Well, I’m ordering from them right now. That’s your lunch.”

Turns out, Y/N thinks Harry is lacking in food development. “You’re stunted, like a toddler,” she explained to him, “You find something you like and keep eating it, so you never branch out. Or, you only try one thing at a restaurant, and if you don’t like that one thing, then you don’t like the entire restaurant, as if maybe that one thing just wasn’t for you. You’re kind of like my 3-year-old cousin in that regard.”

“Gee, thanks,” he had replied, typing into an Excel spreadsheet and avoiding looking her directly in the eye because he’d tipped her 4000 coins the night before just so that she’d play with her cum after she came. She’d called him a creep, but swirled her fingers around in it, dipped them back inside of her sensitive hole, and whined about it, before pulling them free and showing the wet, sticky strings clinging to each other between her fingers. Y/N had lulled it all over her pussy, up to her nipples, got turned on all over again, and then rubbed her puffy, engorged clit until she came again. Every time he looks at her face, he thinks about how blissed out she’d seemed before, and he takes at least a little credit for it, since he gave her the idea. He thinks he could make her cum at least four times with his mouth if she let him.

“It’s fine, I’ll just make sure you’re trying new things. Like maybe boba or something.”

That did yank Harry’s attention from the Excel sheet and over to her, but Y/N isn’t staring at him and smirking like she was bringing up his username. No, she actually had her attention pulled to her phone, typing into the phone with a groan, “Ah, fuck, this is obnoxious. The CFO of Paradox wants to play golf tomorrow. I mean, honestly, in most cases, I would say fuck golf, but we’ve been trying to get them selling in our stores for like. . .ah, 3 years?”

“Oh?” Harry raised his eyebrows, “I thought they said they didn’t want to pay for the spot?”

Y/N nodded, “Yeah, they did. I don’t know, I reckon you should probably go see.”

Harry swallowed, scratching at his thigh, “Ah, yeah, I should but. . .I mean, do you have a golf get-up?”

She flicked her eyes from her phone to Harry, narrowing them, “No, I don’t.” She replied, “Surely, you aren’t suggesting that –”

“It’s early enough in the day, I think there’s a J. Lindeberg close by,” Harry smiled softly, “If you take the company card, you could get whatever you want, yeah? And maybe – I, uh – maybe I’ll try a boba of some kind. Sound good?”

Instead, she straightens out, “Fine,” she agreed, “But Niall gets to come. He likes golf.”

“Done,” Harry answers instantly.

“ – and you owe me something. I don’t know what yet, though.”

Harry blinked at her, “Like – owe you what?”

“Didn’t I just say I didn’t know yet?” She locks her phone, slips it into her back pocket, “You don’t listen at all, do you? I’ll be back in an hour.”

Harry thought that had been the end of it, at least for now. He was shocked that she’d agreed, but not shocked at all that it came with a price. What that could be makes him a little tense, but Niall coming along wasn’t too horrible a problem. She’d just need him to be a little hush-hush about attending. Y/N going is one thing – Niall going doesn’t make a ton of sense, and he’d have a hard time explaining that to his other employees, though he knew nobody would question him.

But then his phone vibrates on his desk, just as soon as the Excel sheet he’d been staring at starts to seem like warped lines and numbers merging. Still, looking from one screen to another wasn’t the best thing in the world, but Harry is glad to have an excuse for a break – even if it was just a reminder for a meeting or something. Instead, he sees Y/N’s notification, and when he gets one in public, his body reacts most frantically. He looks up at his closed office door, though anyone could peek into the windows and see him. But he doesn’t have a mirror behind him or anything, and it’s still bright enough that there’s no reflection from his windows behind him.

So he clicks the notification, swallowing hard, trying to will his prick’s Pavlov response to notifications like these.

The picture loads, and Harry is greeted with what Y/N manages to be a pretty tasteful, upskirt shot of what must be the underneath of the golf dress she tried on. The color is a burgundy color that deeply contrasts with the light colored underwear she wore beneath it. And with the type of fabric, how it stretches over her pussy, her lips are puffy, and he feels the itch deep in his bones to suck them both into his mouth.

It’s a pretty color dress, right? ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

God, she is cruel, almost.

. . .

Golfing is something that Harry’s father sort of gaslit him into liking. Especially once he had decided that the company would be going down to Harry, Harry had to learn how to golf more than just a put here and there, because rich company owners just liked golfing for some reason. Harry doesn’t hate it, but if he never had to do it again, he wouldn’t be disturbed by it at all. It’s part of the reason why he wanted Y/N there, because he thinks it would be a lot more fun. At least the drive there and the drive home, if she decided she would simply be a spectator.

They meet up around 10 AM – Y/N appears in the company car with Niall, immediately gets out of the front seat, and demands Harry drive. Niall shifts into the backseat while Y/N sits in the passenger, in the same burgundy dress she had taken the photo in, but he’s super chill and relaxed about it. Doesn’t make a big deal out of it at all, actually, because he’s so normal, and also Niall is there.

Niall matches the burgundy – Harry doesn’t know if Y/N bought it when she bought her own (because Harry did say get whatever you want) or if he’d already had it. “Hi Niall,” Harry greeted him, with a soft grin, “I hope I’m not taking you from any important work.”

“All due respect, Sir, I’d rather be here than at work any day.”

Harry chuckled, “You don’t have to call me Sir, though, okay? Y/N surely doesn’t.”

“Why would I call you Sir?” Y/N pulled her sunglasses up, and her eyes are very pretty – Harry’s always thought that, but seeing them in the early morning sun is always sort of beautiful. “You’ll have to pay me extra for that.”

The actual reason for golfing goes well enough. The CFO does express interest in selling in his stores about 10 holes in, while Y/N and Niall hang around the golf cart, eating the snacks and drinks offered by the women who roll around asking if they wanted anything. Niall, every so often, would look like he was practicing his swing, knocking a ball around behind them, but anytime Harry could hear Y/N telling him to go and participate with Harry and the CFO, he would refuse, too shy. It was cute. Harry didn’t imagine Niall to be all that shy, considering how he acts in the stream chats as her moderator.

By the time they were finished, Harry was ready to be done. They’d discussed meeting up somewhere different to go into details about Paradox clothing selling in their stores at a later date. Despite it being the end of summer, Harry had a sweat building up on the back of his neck, and was like – sort of sad that he didn’t get to just hang out with Y/N and Niall at the cart all day, while he was forced to make friends with someone he knew he had little in common with (besides a pay check).

Once they returned to the car, Y/N announced that there was a cafe an hour away that was doing a little themed event for the show she and Harry were now invested in. Niall groaned, clearly not excited, but Y/N claimed he had to come because there were important business matters to discuss. Harry thought she was just being silly because she just wanted him to come to. If there’s one thing he’s discovered recently, it's that Y/N likes to share her interests with her friends. Even if she doesn’t necessarily see Harry as a friend, she was still ecstatic when he started watching the show and could talk about it with her. Just how, when he tried the Mexican food she recommended and really liked it, enough to order it again the next day, she was absolutely cheesed. It’s a cute part of herself to want to share things with other people, and how delighted she gets when the enjoyment is mutual.

It is an hour and fifteen minutes away. Y/N uses the aux cord the whole time, and she and Niall chatter back and forth. Y/N is actually pretty good at integrating Harry into the conversation, like he’s always belonged in their little duo, and he appreciates the effort. Not that he thought she would exclude him – she obviously wanted him to be a part of this. And listening to them talk is interesting too, about other things Harry didn’t know but was interested in. Music, other shows, movies, and celebrity gossip that he’d never really thought to get invested in. He laughs more than he has in a while, he thinks, and he’s a little jealous that this is the version of Y/N is the one that Niall gets all of the time. The same one that the streamers get all the time. Where there’s no work on the brain, no meetings to discuss, no decisions to make, nothing to schedule, or go over.

Just them, this show, and what Harry finds is more than just a little event. There are themed drinks, themed bakery goods, the soundtrack of the show is playing through the speakers, and people are dressed up. They stick out a bit, dressed the way they are, but the excitement on Y/N’s face is enough to make them fit right in. She squeals, even grabs onto Harry’s bicep familiarly, and he can’t help the warmth that sizzles through him because of it. This is such a cute version of Y/N he has no idea how he’d ever existed without it. And to be experiencing it in real life, rather than through a screen, is something cool too.

Harry orders a chocolate bun that is filled with some sort of syrup that resembled blood, and an iced mocha that had the same red syrup dripping all along the sides. Y/N is far more adventurous with her order, including dragonfruit sherbert, a bento box with beef that she shares with Niall, sweet rice balls that she forces Harry to eat (and he enjoys), and Y/N demands that Niall let her try the yamakake that he ordered. Their drinks are also themed, more fruity cocktails that are in the colors of their favorite characters.

They are about twenty minutes into eating and chatting before Y/N knocks her foot against Harry’s leg beneath the table. Harry had taken a look at the menu to see if there was something else he wanted to try, literally the one time Harry had looked away from Y/N, he thinks, and she immediately requests his attention again. While he thinks at first it’s just because she wants him to look at her, she leans back.

“So, everyone at this table is aware that I get naked on camera,” Y/N’s cold open made Harry’s mouth drop open, “And Niall is my moderator, and so we discuss what things would get more tips, what might interest people more, y’know? And we’ve realized that I haven’t had another person in my streams before,” she leans forward, Harry blinks about 40 times in the span of ten seconds, “Niall is too nervous about pulling his cock out, y’know? And I get that, but I figured – I mean, you just sort of give the vibe that you’d be into it. So long as we kept your face out of it, would you be willing to do a livestream with me?”

Harry. . .definitely wasn’t expecting that at all. He thought that maybe the “IOU” he owed for the golfing trip was for him buying her a special lunch one day, or maybe giving her a day off in the middle of the week. A three-day weekend, perhaps? Just something that wasn’t him showing his dick to all of her, followed on this stream. But. . .in the same breath, to get a chance to be with Y/N in the way that he had been before – or even in a way different – seems like too good a thing to pass up.

Would he care that people saw him naked? He’d never been exclusive about showing his body, but he did have some telling tattoos that might be an issue. The tiger on his thigh he would need to wrap an elastic band or something to cover that, and maybe he’d need to wear a shirt or something. But he doesn’t think he had a problem with being on camera with her.

“I mean, like – would we be having sex or –”

“Oh wow, really?” Y/N’s brows raised, “I didn’t think you’d consider it this quickly. I thought I’d need to do a little more convincing.”

Harry’s cheeks went pink, especially when Niall followed up with, “Ah, I told you he’d agree to anything you’d say. He’s whipped – all due respect, Sir.”

“I –” he frowned, “I mean, I benefit from the streams, so wouldn’t it be – wouldn’t it be polite to give back?” That isn’t the reason, and he thinks both of them, and everyone in the cafe, and probably everybody within a ten-kilometer radius knew that this was not the reason. The thought of being with Y/N, even if it was technically just for monetary gain, was better than nothing at all. Maybe if he could just be with her, he could get it out of his system, and he wouldn’t need to jerk off every night.

Niall smiles, the same shark-like grin that Y/N gives, “Yeah! I get that, giving back is always good,” Harry appreciates him trying to throw him a bone, and Harry would try and take it to the best of his abilities, “Um, I mean, you definitely can take time to think about it if you want though. We wouldn’t want you to rush into anything just because you think you owe her, or need to give back. This is sort of a big ask.”

Y/N nodded, “A really big ask,” she agreed, “I – I really did think I’d have to do some more whining and begging, but you made it kind of easy.”

“Would it be okay if I cover my tattoos?” He inquired, and Y/N nodded so hard he’s surprised her head then fly right off, “Then yeah, I’d – like that. Sure.” His blush is running up from his cheeks, up to his ears, down his throat and toward his chest, “I’m willing. Uh. . .” he bites on his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth for a couple of seconds before continuing, “Like, what would we do? Or what would I do – I –”

Y/N’s eyes light up, “Oh! Wow, there’s so much, like – do you want to be a dom or a sub in it?”

“God, okay hold on,” Niall cuts her off, “You need to relax, we are in a public area.”

So they do wait, at least until they get in the car, Y/N with a drink to go. She is twisted in the car to face him, “Okay, so dom or sub?”

“I mean, analytic-wise, your viewers might enjoy you being a bratty sub to him being a dom.” Niall replied, “You have more doms in your chat than subs.”

“Are you okay with that then?” She inquired, “Would you be okay domming me?”

Would Harry be okay with it? God, Harry can’t even believe she has to ask about that. Was it not already completely obvious she would be absolutely okay with it? All he’s been able to think about for the last two months is fucking her, whatever way she wanted him. Harry was more than willing.

“I don’t mind that,” he answered, “Really, I’ll do whatever.”

Y/N has the straw between her teeth, chewing on it, rolling it between her incisors, “Well, this is kind of hard, ‘cos I thought you’d have some hard no’s at least.” Y/N runs the pad of her thumb over her eyebrow, “Ni, what do you think?”

“Well, we have to consider what we can do with his face covered, and also what you two are comfortable with. Like, have you done anything outside of. . .well, y’know that one thing.” Harry wonders if his face could get any redder, when Y/N shook her head, “So like. . .there’s plenty of avenues we could go. I can go through the videos and see what the most popular things are. But a couple of things off the top of my head: they love when you’re grinding on things, they like when you drool, when you have stuff in your mouth, when you’re bratty and then turn into a whiny mess, there’s also a bigger demographic for your feet than we realized.”

Niall has a bigger hand in production than Harry had originally thought. He always imagined him just making sure people weren’t weird in the chat, and that was it, but he follows trends and has even made a diagram and spreadsheets about what works best. It makes sense that he’s in the analytics department, for sure.

“Yeah, that all sounds good. Harry, you and I should probably discuss this at a later date so we can lay all of it on the table. Are you free this Friday?” It sounds like such a business proposal that Harry is. . .well, he both likes and hates it. He likes it because it’s something he’s used to – the same wording and phrasing was what he’d just heard at golf earlier today, only it was a man in his 40s. But he hates it because. . .well, he isn’t sure why he hates it. He’s getting what he wanted, isn’t he? He guesses he just. . .he isn’t sure. There was no time to sort out any feelings on the matter, though, not right now, and certainly not right in front of her.

“I can be,” he answers, even though he isn’t sure why Y/N asked, because she knows his schedule just like she would know her own, “I won’t make any plans, and we can meet up or something. At – like either my place, or yours.”

“Maybe mine,” she answered, “So you can get used to the setup, and everything.” Another big, bright grin stretches across her face, “Wow, this is really exciting! I’ve never had someone on my stream before,” she finally reaches to grab the seatbelt and buckle herself in, “I wonder how everyone will react.”

Niall answers from the back, “Everyone’s always asking for it in the chat and whatnot, especially when you’re like – too deep into it to respond anymore. I think they’ll like it.”

And really, they aren’t the only ones. Harry, as a viewer, would probably lose his mind if he got to see what Y/N was really like during sex. And now Harry would be the one getting her there. He was excited and nervous, anxiety welling up in his belly just at the thought, but Y/N couldn’t seem any more content if she tried. He thinks that she really must not see him as someone in a position of power over her in the slightest, but he doesn’t mind. Harry tries to think back if he’d ever be okay with sleeping with his boss, but his only other boss that he’d had was when he worked at a country club in university, and he was in his 70s, so – well, the situation is definitely different.

Harry also hadn’t found out that his 70-year-old boss was watching his camming livestreams, so there were a lot of differences.

They drop Niall off at home first. It wouldn’t make sense for any of them to head into work now, with it being 3 PM, they might as well just take the whole day off. While at his best, he could be a workaholic, Harry definitely needed every second of free time to think about today and what he’d just agreed to. Niall slid out from the backseat, promised to send Y/N some numbers and ideas, then gave Harry a soft nod, waving, expressing his gratitude for letting him come along.

“You should be thanking me, not him,” Y/N told him through the window, “I’m the one who bargained for your attendance.”

“But he’s the one who signs my checks,” Niall winked, and that was that.

Once they were left alone in the car, Harry didn’t expect Y/N to bring it up again. And she doesn’t – at least, not until they are right outside of her flat building. She turned to face him, an unexpected serious gleam to her gaze, “Hey,” she started after she’d unbuckled, reaching down to fix her sock back over her ankle, “If you – I mean, if you really aren’t okay with being in a stream, that’s okay. I obviously would go out of my way to shield your identity, but that’s a lot to ask from you, I know. Especially since I’ve kind of never mentioned it again in person, only to drop this in your lap was probably. . .it was probably a lot, right?”

Harry pulls his lips into his mouth, wets them, then lets them pop back out, “I definitely want to,” he wonders if he sounds as desperate as he feels, “I – I think I’d really be into it. The more I think about it, the more interested I am, but I guess I’m just – I’m a little nervous, is all. And I guess part of me is a little shocked because you’d said that maybe we would do something like in the bathroom again, if you felt like it, but then you never mentioned it, so. . .I don’t know, I thought maybe you didn’t want that from me? So this surprised me.”

Y/N huffs a breath, “I – well, the goal was to make you so desperate that you begged me for it,” she crossed her arms, while Harry’s eyes went wide, “But apparently, you’re too much of a gentleman for that or something. I honestly thought that maybe you. . .maybe you were regretting it or something. Like you just wanted to keep it to the streams.”

He shook his head, his eyes still big, “No! Oh my god, no, I didn’t regret it at all, I – the only thing I regretted was not asking to keep your panties but –” he grimaced at himself, because he was not supposed to admit that, “But no, I – um – that sounded perverted but –”

“Well, you are a pervert,” Y/N told him, “But so am I. So it works out then.” She uncrosses her arms, reaches for her purse, then pops open the door, “Good, then. I’ll see you, Friday, okay?”

Harry watches as she gets out, parts with a small wave, and turns to walk up to the main doors.

All he’d had to do this whole time was beg? God, he’s the stupidest man alive!

. . .

Friday both comes too quickly and not quickly enough.

Harry thinks about it nonstop; he’s stuck between wanting to watch her videos to get himself prepared to not wanting to psych himself out. Y/N already is pretty intimidating to him, just in her day-to-day, even has someone who works for him. And now he’s going to be in her realm of things, in a situation that he’s never been in. Harry knows he’s good in bed, but he doesn’t know if that would translate well to a stream, or if he wouldn’t look like an idiot beside her. But Y/N is so good at it – good enough that people want to pay her to see it. Good enough that he’s dropped loads while watching her. What if he messed it up? And like, he’s never really been worried about his body before now. What if the people watching actually don’t want to see her with someone at all? If they did, what if they wanted to see her with someone who has a more cut body than he did? Someone with a prick that was bigger? Someone with a prick that was smaller? Like, Harry thinks his body is pretty good; he’s never been super insecure about it, but he also hasn’t been put on display in front of hundreds of people.

So he was worried. Then there’s the fact that Y/N is so good at separating their work life from their personal life, so she doesn’t bring it up at all, and in turn, neither does he. He knew that he could – knew that Y/N would talk to him, offer to let him back out again, or discuss his worries and soothe them. But he wants her to have at least a little confidence in him. In at least just one thing, if not their day job, then for her side gig, he could be useful, and helpful, and not the incompetent nepo baby that had a company handed to him.

But wow, he’s suffering. He’d almost brought it up to Niall, but he thinks Niall would just want to talk about data, numbers, and stats that Harry didn’t necessarily care about.

So he keeps it to himself. Uses the internet to search this highly specific situation, narrows it down to a post discussing tips to get over the jitters for the first stream, gets the jitters about thinking about the first stream, then clicks out before he can practice any of the tips. He feels more nervous for this than he did for his first day of work here – how the hell was he supposed to come off as a convincing dom? With a brat like Y/N, no less?

By the time Friday comes around, Harry has completely worked himself up. Y/N tells him to meet her at her place at 7:30 PM, and he’s so nervous he can barely focus. Just showers the day off of his skin, wears his best-smelling lotions, and even sprays some of his cologne on his wrist and at his throat, despite changing into his comfortable clothes. Usually this routine is saved for the beginning of the day, not the end of it, but he wanted to be alluring, if he could be. Y/N smells nerves like a shark smells blood in the water, so he at least needed one thing to be confident about, and that was smelling good. She complimented how he smelled once, and Harry has never forgotten it. He thinks it may have been the first compliment she’d ever given him, and he clung onto it for all this time.

Y/N’s flat building is pretty nice. The lobby is clean, and there’s a doorman who directs him where to go for the elevator. She’s on the seventh floor, so it takes him a little while to get up there, and he double – then triple-checks that his keys are in his pocket and he didn’t lock them in his car. His phone is a heavyweight in his sweatpants, which knocks against his right leg with every step he takes. He’s surprised he hadn’t worried a hole through his lip with how often he’s been tucking it between his teeth, rolling it back and forth, sucking away all the vanilla cashmere chapstick that he’d rubbed over them. Harry had messaged her when he’d turned up, so he only had to knock once before she swung the door open.

He’s greeted by Y/N in something comfy. Harry wasn’t expecting her to be in lingerie or anything, and he guessed he had never really seen what she looks like when she isn’t dressed up for people to see her. The pajama bottoms she wore seemed like a thin, airy fabric, and the top was big, worn-looking, with a huge piece of pie in the center of it. At her feet, there were two cats – one white, and one brown, lacing their way around her ankles, staring at him curiously. “Took you long enough,” she opened the door wider for him to step inside, “You’re 4 minutes late.”

“Ah, sorry,” he apologizes, stepping inside, noticing that it smells like something warm and sweet in here – either a candle or she was baking, “I got caught up finding a parking space.” And I spent five minutes freaking out in my car before I came up.

Y/N hums, then turns on her heel and heads deeper into her flat. One cat – the white one - follows dutifully behind her, while the brown one introduces itself by knocking against his ankles when he follows her, “Hi kitty,” he murmurs, then leans down to caress between its ears – Harry grew up with cats, but he hadn’t had one since he was back at home. He guesses he hasn’t thought about adopting one because he knew he was going to have to adopt 2, and then would hate how often he was away from home, even if they did technically have each other. “What are their names?”

“Why don’t you ask them?” She says from the kitchen – he can hear her opening the cabinet and taking out glasses, the clinking of the ice hitting the bottom when she adds it.

Harry blinks at the cat, who blinks at him, “Uh – what’s your name, kitty?” When the cat stares blankly at him for ten solid seconds, and subsequently, Y/N laughs at him, he realizes that it was kind of stupid.

“Do you really do anything I say?” Y/N inquired, only emerging from the kitchen and appearing in the living room once Harry had left the foyer and gone deeper inside. Her living room was as he expected it to be – somehow put together and very eccentric, fit to her tastes in the color and decor. There are cat figurines and little pieces of artwork that are a true testament to her love for them. Plus the two that jump onto the sofa, one on the arm of the couch near Y/N’s right and the other one making space for itself in Y/N’s lap. “This one is Pancake,” she points at the brown one, then changes direction to the white, “And this is Shortbread. They’re from the same litter – Aki is obsessed with them.”

Harry does vaguely remember him asking Y/N how they were doing and being confused why he was aware of Y/N’s cats when he wasn’t.

“Here,” Y/N handed him a glass of water, “There’s no lemon in it, Princess, but it’s still good to drink.”

Harry pouted, “Hey, I’m not even the one who asks for lemon, you always just make sure they have it.”

“So,” Y/N ignores him instead, as he takes a seat on the couch, careful not to disturb the kitties even though they weren’t sitting beside him, “Have you thought anymore about it? Are you still okay with doing it?”

Harry nodded, “Yeah, I still want to,” he agreed, hoping he seemed super chill and casual, “Do you?”

“Oh, I’ve been wanting to do something like this,” she answered, “Niall and I wrote a list down of different things we could try, but we need to narrow it down to like 3 or 4, so it doesn’t seem too bloated. So just let me know what’s a yay and what’s a nay, okay? Then we can talk about why you seem so nervous. Sounds good?”

She could always see right through him so easily.

They go through several different things, and Harry learns that he’s actually interested in more than he’d originally thought. Edging, overstimulation, squirting, roleplay, blindfolds, shibari, more foot stuff than he’d originally ever thought (“I knew you were a freak,” Y/N had snorted when he’d put the checkmark by a carefully organized paper that Niall created). Eventually, they narrow it down to overstimulation, because that would lead her to squirting and drooling how they like, then fingersucking, wrapped in a nice and tight little bow of dom/bratty sub dynamics. Y/N kind of outlines how they’ll get to all of those things, and Harry could admit that knowing makes him feel a lot better – apparently, she rarely ever goes into things without at least a layout of what things should happen when.

Harry then does explain some of his deeper-seated worries. Insecurities that he hadn’t had since college tickling up his chest (and insecurities that had always danced around the periphery that he’d always chosen to ignore instead of dealing with). He chooses not to go too deep into his feelings of inadequacy in their 9-5 job, but he thinks Y/N could kind of guess that already.

She doesn’t tease him, though. Instead, she reaches forward, her hand resting on his knee and squeezing.

“All of those things – I won’t say that they’re silly to worry about, but I will say that you don’t need to worry about them with me, okay? I’ll guide you through it, how I always do,” she promises, and then, she scouts out his pinky from where his hand lies on his thigh, and hooks hers with his. It’s cute – it’s something Harry’s never witnessed her do – a pinky promise – and it makes his insides bubble warm. “When I first started, I used to be pretty nervous too, but once I started seeing it more like I was roleplaying, it always made me feel a lot better, y’know? Then I wasn’t just me, I was fitting into a part. Soon enough, it didn’t have to feel like playing a part anymore, and I could just be myself.” She shrugs, “And if at any point you want to stop the stream, then we’ll stop. I’ve got a remote that will shut off my webcam – I can always claim technical difficulties.”

That makes him feel better, too, that there’s a way he could back out if they were in the middle. Though he doesn’t think he will. “But my best advice,” Y/N finally tells him, “Is to just focus on me. I’m all that’s important, rightttt?”

They go to the room she streams in, and Harry lowkey feels like he’s walking into a celebrity's house. To be on the other end of the camera, in the guest room that he’s maybe seen more in the last couple of months than he’s seen his best friend’s house, is surreal. The pink and purple lighting, seeing the camera set up, the microphone, and the box of toys that she’ll sometimes dig through on camera. This bed that she uses here has a waterproof mattress pad, and she has to wash the sheets a bit more than she does the one she sleeps in. She explained how the posters and artwork she used to not have, but realized that made the room look a bit sterile, so she decorated it to give a more homey vibe and appeal.

Because Niall is anal about things, they already have spots marked where Harry could stand to keep his face out of the shot. The camera is angled so long as he doesn’t get any lower than his knees with this original set-up, he would always be shoulders up out of frame. If they choose to sit with Y/N’s back to his torso, they mark the distance they would need to be again, where his head is just out of frame. Y/N tells him that the most he has to show is his bare hands, and even then, he could wear gloves if he really wanted to. If he isn’t comfortable showing anything else bare, then he doesn't have to.

Once they have all of that squared away, Harry thinks she’ll kick him out. Instead, she takes a look at his sweats, where he was starting to get a stiffy from talking about all of this. She eyeballed it, then let her eyes flicker up at him, where he sheepishly apologized, “Talking about it like – I mean, it always kind of works me up. It doesn’t help that seeing this set-up through a screen usually gets me really hard, y’know? It’s like a trained response.”

“Sureee, blame it on the set-up,” Y/N clicks her tongue, “Well, normally I’d offer to get you off, but I think – I think you’ll be a bit more intense if you’re kind of pent up, right? You’ll be a bit more excited?” Harry nods, again, feeling splayed open for her to read, “Me too. Then we’ll hold out. I’ll get you warmed up before the stream tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Y/N nods, “If you got this worked up in just a week, I think if we wait any longer, you’ll spiral again. Now, come watch the telly with me so you relax some more.”

Watching TV and eating with Y/N is something that Harry, even a couple of months ago, would have never thought he’d experience. Pancake is curled at his thigh, purring, while Shortbread seems to be trying to suffocate Y/N by sitting right on her chest. And Y/N, who he thinks might be trying to desensitize him to both of them touching, has her legs twisted around his on the sofa, making sure that at least parts of them are intertwined. Sure, every so often when Harry rests his hands on her calves or her ankles, he thinks about gripping her by them to guide them around his waist or over his shoulders, or scooting up higher and using her thighs to steer her – but he’s super normal about it too.

Y/N is better at keeping him at ease than he thinks he gives her credit for. It’s similar to how she settles him at work when he’s getting upset or stressed about something; she always de-escalates the situation. She so desperately deserves a raise, or his position in the company, probably – maybe he could just eat her out daily too, if she’d accept that as payment. Maybe he’d find a way to give her all three? He doesn’t know – just knows that his heart is feeling much softer lately than normal for Y/N, and he isn’t sure where to place all these feelings.

“Heyyy,” a foot nudges at his chest, and Harry catches her ankle when it rears back like she might thunk him with it, “I can hear you thinking. Tell your brain to shush.”

Harry chuckles, nodding, “Okay, I will.”

. . .

“Hiiiiiii,” Y/N greets her stream like she always does, sitting pretty in front of the camera. Only this time, instead of Harry being at home with his hand twitching to shove into his bottoms, he’s sitting right behind the camera. Again, the whole thing feels surreal, after seeing it through a screen, even if he’s known Y/N in person for longer than he’s known her as a streamer. The two separate entities merging in his mind is a lot to take in.

Harry’s nervous jitters are still there, but they’re a little better now. Y/N told him not to get too caught up in thinking about what to do next, to just go with the flow, and she would match him with whatever that brought. She purposefully doesn’t add the kinks that they were planning on trying in the title, just in case they get distracted with something else. How Y/N phrased it seemed a little ominous, but Harry trusted her, like he trusted her with everything else. She told him to leave it to her, to follow her lead, and he was inclined to agree. It had never steered him wrong in the past.

So she titled the stream ᓚᘏᗢ ♡ ᗢᘏᓗ and got on.

She wasn’t in anything fancy – these microshort pajama bottoms with an animal print made him dizzy when she stepped out into them, and a tank top that had a cat in the center of it (very on brand). Y/N is good at not giving anything away when she tells them she has a surprise for them, not even sparing a glance behind the camera while she makes them guess. “You get three guesses,” she teases, “And whoever gets it right, gets a special picture from meeeeee. It’s something you've wanted for a really long time.”

That’s the only hint she gives, and she giggles, and laughs, and teases some more as the replies come in. A sound like confetti pops through the speakers, and Harry could only imagine it was a function that Niall somehow set up, because Y/N starts clapping her hands. “Wolfie, you’re the winner!” She tells him brightly, “I have a friend with me today. He’s gonna help me, right?” Then she finally makes eye contact with him, above the camera, and Harry just about loses every bit of air in his lungs. He nods, like she actually needed an answer from him, and it makes her smile – a genuine one. “C’mon,” she holds her hand out, then shuffles back a little bit to make space for two people in the frame.

Harry steps around – he’s in nothing too impressive. For some reason, he thought Y/N was going to squeeze him into latex or leather, but she told him the sweats he wore the day before were good, so to either bring those or a pair like them. (“I think more men are a little gayer than they think, so they’ll definitely be staring at your cock a bit, y’know? They’ll be interested in you, too.”). He lowers to his knees, his face strategically still out of frame as he waves his hand. His shirt is tight and long-sleeved to hide more of his tattoos, but it does little to hide the shape of his body.

“He’s a little shy, so you’ll have to be nice to him, okay?” Y/N tells them, “Be on your best behavior, so maybe he’ll come back!” Again, she gives him a look, this time tilting her head to see where he was hovering over her. She looks pretty like this – Harry imagines her looking up at him in a different context, and lets his hands move how they usually would, one big one cradling her cheek. He only does it briefly, stroking down the side of her face, toward her jaw, before letting his hand fall away. Her eyelashes flutter when he does. “I always have trouble when I’m trying to squirt for you guys,” she admits, turning back toward the camera, “My fingers aren’t long enough, and my hand always gets too tired. But he’s g’na do all the work for me.”

The flow of it is a bit easier than he expected, and the excitement of everyone is more than he expected. Y/N keeps doing polls, mini ones, getting the audience to interact with questions like, “Do you think he should undress me or should I?” (he undresses her), “Should we use one of my toys or his fingers?” (they decide on his fingers), “Should he edge me or overstimulate me?” (they like seeing a brat like her all sensitive and whining, so overstimulating is what they ultimately choose – Y/N knew them well enough to know that they would).

Seeing Y/N naked like this is – well, his sweatpants don’t hide much of anything. His prick bobs and lurches pathetically when he has her tank top off, her breasts soft and supple. Y/N said he had free rein, so he reached out to touch them, appreciating the weight of them in his hands, squeezing and pinching at her pebbled nipples and biting down hard on his lip not to moan when she does. Harry only takes his hands away to lick his fingers, sucking on them a little to get them wet and slick before bringing them back to her nipples. A small gasp leaves her, and Harry can tell, once again, that it’s genuine. She has moans that she’ll do when she’s first getting warmed up on a stream, and then little sounds and noises that come to her deeper in, when her inhibitions are a little freer. Plus, he compares them to the moans he got to hear when he was between her thighs, and those were. . .they still haunt him. Invade his dreams and wake him up with a wet spot on his briefs. He’d be able to pick them out of a lineup, the number of times he’s looped them in his head.

Harry melts a little better into the role than he thought he would. When she gets lippy about him touching all over her boobs, “Is this all you’re g’na do the whole stream?” Harry let his fingers find her mouth. His index and middle fingers he singles out on one hand, using his other hand to hold her jaw and pry her lips open by her chin. She sticks her tongue out, flutters it around the tip of them like she was thinking about a different tip of his, and the visual could honestly make Harry pass out. He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth while he introduces his fingers to hers, and feels her jaw start to work over them.

He plays with her tongue – rubs the pad of his fingers down the middle of it, pinches it between his knuckles while she suckles at them, drags them against her bottom lip to make sure spit drips from the corner of her mouth. He longs to lick it up, but figures that would definitely show his face more than he should. So instead, he thumbs it away so that they know it was there, and fucks his fingers back into her mouth. It’s sloppy and wet, and Harry is acutely aware that he’s never felt Y/N’s mouth on his cock before. It would feel delicious, he thinks – warm and wet, velvety soft. She takes his fingers deeper than he’d imagined, and he thinks he could see her taking his cock just as deep, if not deeper.

Harry could do that – if she wanted. Every time she was a brat, more so than usual, he could get her on her knees and have her open up for him. He thinks eventually, he could have her trained just to pop her mouth right open for him, to let him feed his cock between her lips. Would she want to video that? Post it for everyone to see how good she is with this hot little mouth? Her hands cradle his wrist and forearm, but she doesn’t bob her head, just takes what he gives her, and whines about it. His dominating little personal assistant, so sweet and soft for him like this. He could get used to that.

When his hand falls away from her mouth, Y/N gasps like she hasn’t been able to breathe in a while. There are strings of spit that connect her lips together, and it’s definitely in view of the camera, along with her slick, glossy lips and her heaving chest. Harry wants to lean in and suck on her nipples more than he wants like – anything right now. But he stays strong, instead shifting behind her, sitting on his heels while Y/N leans up against him, her back to his chest.

“Yeah, he’s hard,” Y/N answers them, wriggling her lower back the best she could and stroking up against him. Harry hisses, hips bucking forward, and it makes her giggle again, “Maybe he’ll let you see it one day? But not until I see it. He feels really big.” Then she reads more messages, “No, Sir just comes over every so often and makes me act right. I haven’t gotten the privilege to see him like that yet.”

It makes his cock twitch, the thought that this was their scenario. Harry slides his fingers over her breasts again, squeezing them both before sliding down her torso. She still has her panties on –the same sheer material as the ones she wore a couple of weeks ago with the buttplug. It was a sparkly purple tonight, that twinkled a bit in the LED lights, and outlined a shadow where she was wet enough to soak through.

Harry musters all his knowledge on these streams and what turns him on when he’s watching, before he pulls the gusset of the panties to the side, tugging them to the side with his left hand. He uses his right hand first to press her thighs open further, which reveals more of her clit, already starting to swell. Then he slides his fingers down the inside of her thighs, lulling them along the smooth skin surrounding her clit. He traces a heart on her mound, then skates his index finger over her clit playfully. Y/N’s hips twitch, then she gives a breathless laugh around a moan.

“You’re being mean,” she murmurs, thudding her head back against his chest, “Touch me properly.”

He ignores her, tracing around for a while longer. Spreads her lips open to show off where she’s glistening, ruddy and needy, swollen petals that Harry recalls all too well how they feel against his tongue. He’s desperate to feel it again, the way they parted around him with each lick – fuck how she tasted. That’s what eventually encourages him to swirl his fingers in her mess, dipping the tips of them inside for just a second, enough for her to moan whiny and frustrated when he takes them away, only to bring them up to his mouth. He sucks the taste from his fingers and can’t help but moan around them, which only makes Y/N whine more.

“Please?” She wiggles again, “I can – I can give you more to taste if you touch me.”

A convincing enough proposal, Harry finally touches her clit.

But it was about overstimulating, not edging, so he didn't build it up slowly and steadily, mostly because he knew that Y/N could handle it. Harry starts to rub in quick, tight little circles and feels the way the swollen bump flicks around beneath his fingers. Y/N has a grip on his arm that tightens, her thighs fighting to close, but he moves to spread her open every time she tries to twitch them shut. She’d admitted to him before they even started that she’d edge herself a couple of times so that it would be quicker to make her cum the first time, and it proved to be fruitful. Her pussy starts to clench around nothing, and she presses her hips closer to him, rocking against the touch until she starts to come undone from just the stimulation to her clit alone. Harry rubs her through it, dips his fingers down to spread the wetness from her hole, back up to her clit.

And then he keeps going.

Y/N twitches, whines, and jerks away at first until she starts getting used to the stimulation again. Still, her sounds are a little more desperate and pitched when Harry doesn’t let up, and her nails dig into his forearm, while she tilts her face into his bicep. With the hand he isn’t using to rub her clit, he takes her by the chin and points her face back to the camera, which makes her moan again, louder, sweeter – Harry wants to kiss the sounds right out of her mouth, and suck them off her tongue.

She cums again, with a full body spasm, her limbs tensing and her back arching when another orgasm washes through her. Harry can’t help himself when he tastes her again, more of it on his fingers than before, and his eyelids flutter when he imagines getting between her thighs again.

He helps her remove her panties, peeling them away from her body and off her ankles. Harry readjusts – his hips and knees are a bit sore from this position, but he could ignore that. Especially when Y/N is tilting her chin to look up at him, eyes sparkly and wide, lips pouting. He laughs a little before he gets her thighs spread for him again, wasting no time when he tucks two fingers inside of her.

Despite the toys he’s seen her take, Y/N is still tight around his fingers. Two of them are snug, down to the knuckle, and it doesn’t help that she clenches up from how sensitive she’s gotten. Her walls massage around his fingers in a way that he knows would feel crazy on his cock, and it makes him throb again, dripping precum in his briefs. He knew how she felt around his tongue, but this is so much different, somehow. Harry thinks he might lose his mind.

It’s his middle and ring fingers that he tucks inside of her, so with each sink inward, he could grind the heel of his palm against her clit. Y/N just can’t stay still when she’s cum twice, he’s finding that her body shifts and jerks, moves toward his touch and away. She’s whimpering, mewling, calling him mean, and begging him to keep going, and Harry isn’t sure how much is for the camera and how much is just her going through it. There’s a high-pitched ding that Harry finds out happens every time someone tips, and it’s been sounding off nonstop since he started fucking her mouth with his fingers. People are liking it, at least – it makes him more confident that he’s actually helping her out rather than inhibiting her.

Harry’s fingers are long enough that it’s relatively easy to find her G-spot, just by curling his fingers forward, and with the way she’s sitting, it practically bulges and bumps into his fingers whether he is trying to or not. The sound that scrapes from her throat, he thinks, could have made him cum in his trousers untouched, and he so desperately wants to whisper sweet words, tell her how well she’s doing, how good he’s going to fuck her after this. When she starts rocking her hips down to meet his fingers, Harry pats around blindly for the toy she told him to use when he was ready to make her squirt. He doesn’t know much about it, just that it’s shaped like a flower and pulses air against her clit.

His heart is racing when he presses the power button to turn it on, clicking it two settings up just as she told him. Y/N warned him that she was going to fuss, tell him that she couldn’t do it, but she had a safeword if she really couldn’t – she would just whine to whine, she told him. So when she moans a broken sound, saying, “No, no, Daddy, I can’t – I can’t –” (and Harry almost busts again untouched in his trousers because where the hell did ‘Daddy’ come from? And since when was he into that?)Harry ignores her, presses it right to her clit, and has to keep her as still as he can.

She came again quickly once that’s added. Only this time her moan gets choked off, her thighs tighten, her walls squeeze around his fingers harshly as he strokes insistently at the bundle of nerves he’d been prodding and poking, and then she gets wetter. It’s loud – he can hear how much wetter it gets when she squirts, especially with the toy thudding against her clit, and the squelching of his fingers inside of her. Harry almost whines with her, when he realizes how much of it is wasted on the floor and not inside of his mouth.

When her voice comes back to her, she’s murmuring please again and again, and he isn’t sure for what – to stop or keep going – so he keeps going. Her max for tonight, she told him, was 5 and he was on the 3rd. He’d give the stream one more, because he decided that he would take the last one for himself – as a reward for playing his role so well.

Y/N’s hips are moving nonstop, and this time when she hides into his bicep, he can’t make her look back at the camera because his hands are busy. Even if they weren’t though, he thinks he’d let her do this. Harry clicks the toy just another tick higher, and she cries out before mouthing at his bicep, wets the fabric when she digs her teeth in as another wave seems to flush over her. It’s a little less strong than the first but still just as good, and Harry works her through it, slipping his fingers out from inside of her and tossing the toy to the side. He slips his fingers through her slit, painting up and down a couple of times as he eases her into not being touched anymore. And he has to fight the urge to coo at her just yet, when he looks into the camera and sees her eyes closed, her chest heaving.

Silentgrower22 tipped 1000 coins!

I think you broke her!! Beautiful work

Y/N huffs, peeking an eye open, “He didn’t – break me,” she says in between breaths, pushing herself up from where she’s been leaning against him, pushing closer toward the camera, “I need to shower, and maybe sleep for like a month straight,” she laughs a little, a huffed breath through her nose, “Thank you for – for watching! Wow.”

Harry doesn’t think she meant to say the wow, before she clicked the stream off. She exited out of the browser, closed her computer, and turned off her webcam, sliding the cover over the lens. "See, you didn't need to be nervous at all --" Y/N barely has the time to turn around when Harry heaves her up from the floor and onto the bed, and she barely has enough time to squeal before Harry smears his lips against hers. He couldn’t help it – his cock is hard, and he’d just watched Y/N cum so beautifully for him, he had to lick into her mouth.

She responds to it enthusiastically – or as enthusiastically as she can, being as worn out as she is. Y/N’s lips taste sweet, like the strawberry honey lip mask she was just telling Niall about in the car. The kiss is sloppy and wet, but he doesn’t care – it feels good to finally do it. To lick against her tongue, whine into her mouth, grab her hips, and grind his cock down for even just a little bit of friction. It twitches, throbbing and neglected – he’s probably a deep red color, he could place a bet on it.

When he parts from her, strings of spit cling to them. He pushes kisses down her jaw, to her neck, where he scrapes his teeth against her, “That was beautiful,” he murmurs, “So fucking good, god, it was–it was amazing, you did so well.”

“I should be saying that to you,” she replies, carding her fingers through his hair when he sponges kisses to her tits, sucking her nipples into his mouth, “Ah! I –”

Harry licks his tongue in circles before nipping and pulling at them. He wants to spend more time – wants to at least give each breast 10 minutes of attention, but he thinks if he doesn’t cum soon, he might implode. So while he licks and suckles at her nipple, he shoves the waistband of his sweatpants down, and Y/N helps him, using her feet when she can’t reach with her hands. One glance down and his cock is a deep red, so drippy and slick at the tip, he wonders if maybe he came without noticing, but he’s still so hard the theory is debunked immediately.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he murmurs, kissing back up to her face, “You’re g’na have to – you’re g’na have to tell me to stop, if you don’t want it, fuck –” Harry has no problem admitting that he sounds pretty pathetic right now. He’s whining and moaning like he’s the one who has just cum four times. His head is tilted against her forehead when the tip of his cock buds against her hole, and Y/N whines, twitches away, but nods.

“Yeah, s’good, you can fuck me,” she tells him.

Harry sinks inside of her, as slow and steady as he can. His thighs are trembling, his whole body shaking – he feels so fucking good that he thinks his brain melts through his ears almost instantly. Y/N’s so warm around him, scorching hot like liquid fire, and every squeeze of her walls to accommodate his size feels like it’s massaging around his head. He curses under his breath again, starting to roll his hips maybe a little too early. Another sweet noise leaves her mouth, overstimulated, sensitive, her thighs clench around his waist, “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, “Can’t – can’t help it, Sweetheart, you feel so fucking good. G’na make me cum, fuck,” the pace he sets is intense, hard, his balls are swollen and full, slapping against her bum, “Do you think you can cum one more time for me? S’okay if you can’t, but –”

Y/N sneaks her hand in between them, “I can,” she answers, determined, “I can, I can.”

Harry can feel her knuckles moving between them, rolling her swollen bud beneath her fingers, and as soon as she touches it, she gets even tighter around him. He thinks he has the will of a god to be able to hold out this long. He honestly thought that he might cum the moment he even put the tip in. But even as he tries to wait for her, it’s just too much – how tight she is, the squelching of his cock dipping inside of her, the way she looks at him all moony-eyed and sweet, trying her best to cum with him, mouth hung open, moaning, drooling.

A panicked groan leaves him, his hips speeding up, “I’m g’na cum, baby,” his hips stutter, “Fuck, I’m g’na cum, I’m g’na cum.”

Maybe it’s the way he sounded that shoves her closer, but when he slips out of her, Y/N sandwiches his shaft between her palm and her clit and rolls her hips as his orgasm shatters through him. Hot, white streaks shoot from his cock, and he can feel Y/N pulsating around him, another orgasm, and the way she’s twitching and moaning, clamping him down closer to her – it keeps Harry going. He hasn’t cum this much in a while – maybe since the first stream he’d watched of hers? He isn’t sure, just knows that it feels like his DNA helices are unravelling, then retwisting and coding, changing from who he was before he’d felt the inside of Y/N so intimately, to who he was after. A changed person, surely.

Harry doesn’t mind the mess, when he rests his weight on top of her. Y/N, in one stream, mentioned that she hated when guys flopped right next to her or left to the bathroom immediately. That she liked the weight of them, like a blanket, and how it was an important part of aftercare for her. Harry filed it away in his ‘things that he might need to know one day’ file, and has finally gotten to use it. Y/N practically purrs, shivering, her limbs snaking around him like a koala.

They’re quiet as they catch their breath. Harry is listening to Y/N’s heartbeat as it goes from a rabbit-like speed to something softer, slower as they both come down from the high of it. When Y/N starts to card her fingers through his hair, he finally tilts up to look at her. Y/N’s eyes are closed, but when she feels him move, she peeks one open again, then sticks her tongue out at him before closing it again.

“You better be careful,” she murmurs, “I might get attached, if you keep looking at me like that.”

Harry doesn’t think he’d have a problem with that.

. . .

The thing is – the scary, unnerving thought that Harry has been having lately – is that he thinks he may have feelings for his personal assistant.

How does he discover it? Well, simply put, he and Y/N sleep together a lot now. Or at least, Harry is between Y/N’s thighs (whether it be his head or his dick) more often than he thinks he’s ever slept with anybody. And he finds that sleeping and cumming with Y/N is about 10x more efficient in leaving him relaxed and happy during even the busiest times of year, than watching her streams and cumming alone was. To the point that Rafayel and Kai have been wondering where he’s been, because typically they’d be hearing a lot from him around this time.

But he finds quickly that the sex, sometimes, isn’t even the best part of being with her. Behind the layers of his rotten, bratty assistant, he’s always known Y/N was funny. She’s personable, and at times, unwillingly sweet – but it’s different with her now. There’s a softness – a fondness – that she allows herself to feel for Harry that he doesn’t think she’d ever had before. Maybe it was after the time he’d cried when he came, overwhelmed by how good it felt after she’d edged him for two hours. Or maybe it was after he’d spent an hour eating her pussy, then cooked her dinner after running her a bath. Whatever it was, and whenever it was, Y/N is just a little softer with him than she’s ever been.

Harry’s heart races when he sees her now, and not just in the horny way it used to. He’d been forced to confront some of his feelings for her head-on when they had gone back to that noodle place, and he watched the buzzcut guy flirt openly with her. He knew it was playful, but he also knew that something inky and black like jealousy stirred in his gut and almost ruined his appetite, so he figured the already blurred lines between them and their dynamic were getting even blurrier.

So yeah, maybe he has a big, stupid crush on her. There’s a lot wrong with it, and an HR case that would probably be a doozy if they knew the extent of it, but Harry just can’t help how he feels. And he’s never been good at keeping these feelings to himself, either. He needs to at least put it out there – at least lay it all open, flat on the table, so that if she doesn’t want to sleep with him anymore, to avoid further feelings from developing, then she can.

Harry could handle it if she turned him down. Would he probably cry when he got home? Of course he would. But he’s a mature enough adult to understand that he needs her, and wouldn’t jeopardize her job if she didn’t want to be with him. Which is what he tries to explain to her, in just about the most stuttered, clunky way that he could, with Pancake in his lap as his only defense. He was curling his fingers in her soft fur and avoiding eye contact as he swallowed thickly and said, “But I – was just wondering if you’d like to maybe – like if you would let me invite you over to my place for dinner, but not how we have been doing? For like a date, instead?” But then, shaking his head, “But don’t feel obligated to say yes or anything! I know it’s weird, because I’m your boss and all that, but I would never like – take it out on you or anything. I just needed to ask before. . .y’know.”

Y/N was staring at him – he could feel it more than he could see it out of the corner of his eyes. It’s the same stare she does when she’s trying to figure him out. The same one that used to burn through him every day when they first started working with one another. He feels her move on the other side of the couch, and for a moment, he worries that she is about to stand up, point toward the door, and tell him to leave. Or maybe get herself as far away from him as possible when she rejected him.

Instead, she drops to the cushion closest to him. Their legs touch when she turns to face him, and Harry finally takes a look at her.

“Thank god you finally asked,” she breathes a sigh of relief, blowing a raspberry with her lips, “I thought I was going to have to, and that would have totally taken away from my intimidating, bratty persona, y’know? I need you to stay a little scared of me so you listen well.”

It takes Harry a second to register what she’s saying, but when he does, a smile stretches wide across his face, “Really?”

“Well, duh,” she nudges at him, “Despite the whole camming thing, I don’t go sleeping around with just anybody.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like tha–”

“Anyway, I think I’ve probably liked you for a little while, now,” she admitted, “Niall started calling me out on it about a month ago, but I only started listening recently.”

“He’s really good at analyzing stuff, isn’t he?”

Y/N hums, “Yeah, it’s super annoying,” she scrunches her face, “Now – let's discuss more of this dinner. I should let you know, I don’t put out on the first date, so don’t expect anything sexy from me.”

Harry laughs, and relief spreads through his body like the blood in his veins.

“That’s fine by me.”

#this was soooo good i’m surprised it doesn’t have more notes #like SO good #it’s been years since i’ve read any harry fic that wasn’t jawllines she always DELIVERS #fic rec

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