ENGENES WE FUCKING WON WE DID IT 😭 ENHYPEN WON THE DAESANG (╥﹏╥)
I am so proud of the boys and to all of us who participated in the voting!!! They really really really deserved this award and it’s the best gift we can give them for their 5th Anniversary. The members’ speeches made me tear up and I hope they won’t be so hard on themselves anymore 😔 they deserved this and so much more! You worked so hard, our seven 🫶🏻 we love you so much and we hope we can give back even half of the love you always give us. Big hug to Engenes too! 🫂❤️ (I can’t post the full speech 🥲 but here’s Jungwon shouting our name 😭)
UPDATE: OMG THEY POSTED CHAMBER 5 TOO??? WHY DID I SEE IT JUST NOW?! 😭 They really did it OMG 😭😭😭 I can’t even explain how happy I feel right now, I feel so lucky to be an ENGENE and be loved by ENHYPEN 🥹
Summary: He pays in cash. You pay in obedience. a sugardaddy!harry styles x reader au series
Warnings: sugardaddy arrangement, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation, kind of a corruption kink, power play, a little bit of dom!Harry
A/N: i'm planning on making this a series, so excited for you guys to read it! btw i usually write in the present tense, but this more of a prologue to the series, so that's why this first part is in the past tense. if you've got any requests for the series, feel free to drop them in the ask box on my profile ;) have fun x
Word Count: 2,984
...
You weren't supposed to be here.
The bar was tucked into the corner of a luxury hotel, the kind where the floors didn't creak and the waiters never made eye contact. Everything shimmered. Gold fixtures, iridescent chandeliers, crystal glasses. In the air was an unsettling sort of quiet that felt expensive. You smoothed your hands over your thighs, trying to hide the fact that your dress was thrifted and your heels pinched at the sides. You didn't belong, and you knew it, but still, you were here.
You'd told yourself you were just curious. Just meeting with him. Just... hearing him out.
But then he walked in.
Harry.
He didn't look like someone who needed to pay for anything. Not sex, not attention, not anything at all. But he wasn't here for any of that, not really. He was here for control.
He looked like the kind of man you'd trust with your secrets, and the worst kind to actually give them to.
He found you immediately, his steps smooth and slow, like he had nowhere to be except in front of you. He wore a dark navy suit, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, tattoos peeking through his chest. His curls were slightly damp, like he'd come straight from the shower, and he smelled expensive: clean, musky, sharp. His eyes dragged over you in a way that wasn't quite polite, but wasn't necessarily crude either. It was... calculating. A man who liked knowing what was his, and it looked like you were going to be his next victim.
He slid into the booth across from you, leaning one arm on the table, and didn't speak for a long moment, just taking you in.
Then, finally, he spoke. ''You're prettier than in your photo.'' His voice was deep, heavy with power and influence.
Your cheeks heated, the words surprisingly genuine from his lips, but there was no warmth. Like he was stating a mere fact rather than actually complimenting you. You swallowed. ''Thank you.''
''You nervous?'' he asked.
You nodded. There was no point in lying. You knew he could read your body language well.
''Good,'' he said. ''You should be.''
He ordered you a drink without asking what you wanted. You didn't argue. When it arrived, you took a sip. Burnt sugar and something bitter settled hot in your throat.
''So,'' he said, eyes flicking over you like he was taking inventory. ''You know why you're here.''
You nodded again. ''I do.''
''You've read the terms?''
''I have.''
''No kissing in public. No relationships. You're mine while you're with me. No one else. And I own everything I give you. You leave? You give it all back.''
You licked your lips. ''I understand.''
He leaned in slightly. ''Understand what?'' he prompted.
You blinked. ''I understand I'm yours when I'm with you.''
He smiled.
It wasn't a sweet smile.
The contract was tucked into a leather folder. It wasn't long. Two pages, most of it simple language, with a few bolded phrases that made your stomach twist. Sexual availability. Physical submission. Discretion required. At the bottom of the last page was a little blank box, awaiting your signature.
Before you could pick up the pen, his hand landed on your wrist. Gentle, but firm.
''Let's talk about your limits first,'' he said. ''Your rules. Tell me what you won't do.''
Your breath caught. You'd read stories like this. You'd watched the porn. But sitting here, across from a man who had all the power, it felt different. It felt real. You didn't know how to handle it, how to respond to a question that intimate.
''I, um... No blood. No sharing. Nothing… painful.''
He tilted his head, the corner of his mouth curling upwards just slightly. ''Define painful.''
''I don't know, like… hitting. Or degrading. I don't want to be called names. I take offense to that.''
He chuckled softly at your fieriness, his fingers trailing lightly down your forearm, just a touch, but it made your skin break out in chills.
''But you'll take orders?''
You nodded.
''You'll let me use toys on you?''
''Yes.''
''Let me tie you up?''
''…yes.''
His voice lowered. ''You'll beg?''
You hesitated, breath catching. ''…yes.''
''Good girl.''
Your thighs pressed together under the table, the praise hitting you deep in your belly. Shame curled around the heat there, but you didn't pull away.
''You'll have a safe word,'' he said, like it was the most casual topic to be discussed over a bar table. ''You say it once, I stop everything. You say it twice, I take you home. That clear?''
You nodded again, too fast. ''Yes.''
''Pick your word.''
Your brain scrambled. ''Um… red?''
He quirked a brow. It told him all he needed to know; you were very, very new at this. He almost smiled at that. He couldn't wait to teach you, to take you apart and put you back together to ruin your for every other man you'd ever meet.
He handed you the pen. Your fingers trembled as you signed. He flipped the folder closed without looking at it again. Like it was done now. You belonged to him.
...
The ride to his penthouse was quiet. He didn't touch you. He didn't even speak. He just scrolled through his phone, legs wide in the backseat of the sleek car, occasionally glancing at you like he was already imagining what he'd do to you when you got to his place.
You kept your hands in your lap, your thighs clenched, trying to act like you weren't already soaked.
You hadn't gone looking for this kind of job, it found you. A friend of a friend, a girl who had worked one discreet night and came back with rent paid six months in advance and a vacant stare that spoke of something darker than just money.
She'd never given you a name, only a phone number and a whispered ''a friend of my guy is looking''. Looking. That's all she told you. And maybe that should've been enough to walk away. But curiosity has sharp teeth. And money, even sharper.
You'd stared at the number for three days before finally texting it.
You'd gotten a second notice for your overdue rent that month. You were broke. Tuition was bleeding you dry, your electricity and gas bills were stacking up, and your job at the cafe barely covered groceries. So after a long, wine-heavy night and one unpaid phone bill too many, you'd sent a message:
Hi. I was given your number by a friend. I was told you're looking?
The reply had come within the hour. Polite, direct, and unsettlingly composed.
Yes. I offer a paid sexual arrangement. Exclusive. Intimate. You'll be compensated generously for your time, discretion, and obedience. If that interests you, we'll continue.
You'd have sworn you could almost hear his calm, grounded voice through the words on your screen. Like he had already you pegged as the type to give in.
You'd texted for a few days. He'd asked questions, not the ones you'd expected, like your measurements or your preferences, but things like, How do you respond to authority? Are you good at keeping secrets? What are you looking to get out of this arrangement? It had felt very formal, almost like a job interview.
You'd asked him questions too, though far fewer. Mostly, you'd tried to figure out if this man who texted like a lawyer and spoke like a therapist was actually offering what he claimed, if he wasn't just wasting your time for fun.
He'd sent a photo of himself per your request (you wanted to know if he was at least attractive, could anyone blame you?). It was a mirror selfie, shirtless, grey sweatpants riding low, tattoos on show and his deep V-line peeking out promisingly above his waistband. It wasn't sleazy. It was deliberate. Classy, even.
You'd stared at it for way too long.
You had sent one back. Nothing too revealing, just a casual, slightly provocative photo of you in your favorite little black dress. He hadn't commented on your body. Instead, he'd replied with, You'll do nicely. When can we meet to discuss terms?
That was the moment something had shifted in you. You'd been hesitant, cautious, ready to back out at any moment. But that text, cold, possessive, confident... it made something spark deep in you.
Your love life was a ghost town, your sex life practically non-existent. No one had made you feel desirable or wanted in months, let alone claimed. And there was something dangerously appealing about this beautiful stranger who didn't beg, didn't chase, just chose you. And suddenly, all you could think was: Fuck it.
...
His building had a private elevator. No doorman. No check-in. Just a sleek black keycard and the quiet hum of wealth.
The penthouse was stunning. Floor-to-ceiling windows, cold marble floors, warm lighting that made everything glow. You didn't get time to look around. As soon as the door shut behind you, his voice dropped into a calm command.
''Strip.''
You froze. ''Here? Now?''
He tilted his head. ''That's what you signed up for, isn't it?''
Your face burned as you just nodded, your hands reaching behind you to fumble with the zipper at the top of your spine. It was stubborn, just out of reach, and you twisted awkwardly, tugging, struggling in silence.
You could feel his eyes on you, the weight of them making your skin prickle and crawl. He huffed out a soft laugh, and then you heard his heavy, unhurried footsteps approach from behind until he was so close you could feel the heat radiating off his chest.
His ring-adorned fingers, slow and sure, brushed your hand away. ''Let me,'' he murmured, so soft it barely kissed your ear.
The zipper slid down with one slow, long tug, the sound slicing through the silence like a sigh. You shivered as cool air licked across the newly exposed skin of your back. His palm ghosted up your spine, not quite touching, hovering. Teasing. His breath was warm when he leaned in, and his mouth met your shoulder with a kiss that felt far too gentle for a man who'd promised to ruin you.
''Good girl,'' he whispered, lips grazing your skin, voice molten. ''Didn't think you'd need help getting naked for me. You're cute.''
Your lungs forgot how to take in air. The dress hangs loose now, your hand instinctively coming up to keep the fabric pressed to your chest before it slid further down.
He didn't touch it. Just waited. Lingered behind you like a storm on the edge of breaking, letting the anticipation sink into your bones.
''Go on, then,'' he murmured in your ear, standing tall again. ''Show me what I paid for.''
You hesitantly let your dress drop to the floor, standing there in just your bra and panties.
He stepped closer, his eyes dragging over your body like a slow stroke. He didn't touch. He didn't speak.
The first thing he did was unhook your bra. Slowly. Like he was unwrapping something fragile. It slid off your shoulders and pooled on the floor between you, his eyes tracking the motion with a hunger that made your knees weak. His hand came up, broad, warm, heavily ringed, and cupped one breast, thumb brushing over your nipple until it stiffened under his touch.
You gasped, already on edge, your cunt already throbbing.
''You're a sensitive little thing, aren't you?'' he said, voice calm. Observational. ''Might be fun to toy with you just a little.''
Then his hand dropped to your waist.
''Come on, sweetheart. Be good for me. On the bed.''
The bed was massive. All black linens, plush and soft, and you sank into it as you crawled across. You heard the rustle of his suit jacket being slipped off, the clink of a belt being undone. But you didn't dare look back at him. Not until he gave you permission.
You stayed there, on your hands and knees, waiting.
He spoke up from behind you, his voice thick with authority. ''On your back. Legs open.''
Your body obeyed before your brain caught up. You spread your thighs wide, baring yourself completely. You were already wet, embarrassingly so. The air hit your soaked folds and made you shiver, your nipples pebbling under the warm light.
He walked to the edge of the bed and just looked at you. Silent. Intense. Like he was committing this exact moment to memory.
''Beautiful,'' he said softly. ''So fuckin' beautiful like this. Spread out for me, already dripping.''
You whimpered as he knelt between your legs, rings cold against your thighs as he pushed them wider, thumbs parting your folds.
Then he spit.
Right on your pussy.
The slick warmth landed on your clit and made you jolt. He rubbed it in with two fingers, slow circles that had your toes curling instantly.
''Gotta loosen you up,'' he muttered. ''Gotta make you nice and dumb before I fuck you. Can't have my sugar baby thinking too much, can I?''
You didn't have time to answer before he slipped one thick finger inside. It made you clench instinctively, your hips arching up, a moan breaking from your throat.
''Fuck, you're tight,'' he groaned. ''All this for me?''
You nodded, helpless. ''Yes, all for you.''
His grin turned wicked. ''Good girl.''
He added a second finger without warning.
You gasped, hips twitching, overwhelmed by the stretch. He curled them deep, hitting a spot that made your back arch off the bed, your hands clutching at the sheets.
''There it is,'' he said, almost smug. ''There's that little spot. Gonna work it until you cry for me.''
And he did.
He kept those fingers buried deep, thrusting them slow but firm, curling just right. His thumb pressed to your clit, rubbing circles, just enough pressure to make you squirm, not enough to give you what you needed and craved so badly.
Your moans turned into whines. Pleading sounds.
He didn't stop.
''Say it,'' he murmured. ''Tell me whose pussy this is.''
''Yours,'' you gasped, barely able to speak. ''Yours, Harry, please—''
''Say it like you fuckin' mean it.''
''Yours! It's yours, Harry, please, fuck, please let me come—”
He leaned in, breath hot against your neck. ''You'll come when I say so. Not a second before.''
You sobbed, your body trembling with the need to let go. His fingers never stopped. They fucked up into you mercilessly, slick and loud and obscene. Your whole body was buzzing, flushed and twitching under him.
And then suddenly he pulled out.
You whined at the loss, blinking up at him in shock, but before you could protest, he grabbed your thighs and buried his face between them.
The first lick was broad and slow, his tongue flat, dragging from your entrance up to your clit. You cried out, thighs jerking, but he held you down. His arms hooked under your thighs, keeping you pinned open as he devoured you like a man starved.
He licked and sucked and groaned into your pussy, like the taste of you was everything he'd ever wanted.
''So fuckin' sweet,'' he murmured, lips brushing your clit. ''Y'taste sweet as fuckin' sugar, baby.''
The way he said that line is something that would stay with you later, something you'd hold onto for months to come. When you were alone in bed, when you were trying not to touch yourself, when you were trying to remember that this was just an arrangement. Just money. It wasn't supposed to feel like this.
But God, it felt like something already.
Your legs were shaking. Your body was soaked. He sucked on your clit just right, tongue flicking in quick patterns, your hips bucking helplessly against his face.
''Please, please, Harry, please, need to come—'' you babbled.
He pulled back just far enough to growl, ''Then fuckin’ come. Come for me, sugar.''
And you did.
Your orgasm hit you like a freight train. You screamed, legs locking around his head, your pussy clenching wildly. You couldn't breathe, couldn't think, mind numbed by the white-hot, pulsing pleasure ripping through you in waves.
But he didn't stop.
Even as your body convulsed, even as you sobbed from the intensity, he kept going. Licking you through it, into the next one, tongue relentless on your swollen clit until you were thrashing under him, hands pushing at his head weakly.
''Harry, please, it's too much—''
He lifted his head sharply. ''You'll come again. You'll come until I'm satisfied,'' he barked out, his intense gaze locked onto you.
And then he dove back in.
Your second orgasm was quicker, rougher, more painful in its sweetness. You sobbed through it, thighs twitching, whole body slick with sweat. Your vision blurred, pleasure blinding and brutal.
When you came again, you screamed.
Tears rolled down your cheeks, your pussy clenching hard around nothing as your whole body shook with overstimulation. Your clit throbbed, too sensitive, too much... but he didn't stop until you were begging.
''Red, Harry, please.”
That's what finally made him stop.
He pulled back, his lips wet with your slick, face flushed. He looked like a man who'd just eaten dessert and wanted another course.
He crawled up over your body, pressed a soft kiss to your lips.
''You did so good, baby,'' he whispered, peppering kisses to your shoulder. ''So obedient.''
You couldn't speak. Couldn't even think. The muscles in your thighs were still twitching, your chest rising and falling in sharp, shallow breaths.
''I'm gonna train you so well,'' he murmured against your mouth. ''You'll be begging to be used. Crying if I don't touch you.''
Your eyes fluttered closed, your brain melting into the sheets.
He kissed your temple. ''And this?'' he whispered lowly in your ear like it was a secret.
He smirked.
''This was nothing.''
...
thank you so much for reading! i appreciate any and all support so remember to like, comment and reblog. requests are open! 💕
Y/N Y/L/N is looking forward to summer— until she finds One Direction, England’s top-selling band, hiding in her barn. Now, she has to deal with rockstar egos, an unwanted admirer, and the dark force that sent them into hiding in the first place. part one
. . .
. . .
Imagines
. Two Ghosts **
part one, part two
The one where she gave him her all, and he can’t even take the time to attend something important to her.
. Bad Mothers Raise Sad Children
part one, part two
the one where harry asks y/n why she’s such an incompetent, unloving mother and she can’t answer. tw: post partum depression, suicide attempt.
. Leather Jacket & Slicked Back Hair** *
the one where everything about them is soft and electric when everyone sees him as hard. bad boy!harry soft for y/n.
Gone Under **
(subspace!y/n)
the one where she’s floating, but he’ll always be there to take care of her. from the concepts list, mentions of a dom/sub relationship, some smut. angsty for the most part**
. Angel in His Devil Eyes *
the one where she’s on her period, and he’s irritably attractive, but knows what he’s doing.
. (Accident)ally in Love *
y/n bleeds all over harry’s sheets, and he reacts unexpectedly.
. Too Busy for a Baby**
the one where the first baby kick is less important than the hundredth phone call. angst.
. How Does a Moment Last Forever? *
in an attic, where an artist loves his wife. valentine’s day. artist!harry
. The Lonely Hearts Club **
harry abandons his best friend, y/n, for his girlfriend, and as a result her safety is compromised. hostage!y/n
There will not be a part two. Stop asking me.^
. Where’s Your Heart? **
the boy she’s in love with is as distant as the sun, and it’s right before she leaves when she realizes this isn’t love.
. Santa Baby *
the one where she can’t help but wonder// they spend the day christmas shopping before y/n tells harry she wants a baby.
. Long Way Down **
the one where she thinks he’s unfaithful and he questions the trust in their relationship
. Gotta Get Better **
y/n has a miscarriage.
. Exhaustedly In Love ** *
harry’s coming back home from tour, y/n is stressed because of exam season. everything is fine until she faints.
. Something In The Water *
he knows there’s a baby before she does.
. Free Falling *
the one where harry thinks it’s impossible to fall deeper in love with her, but then he sees the kitten perched atop her belly.
. All I Want *
evie has kittens, and it gives harry baby fever.
Blurbs
. Six Candles, One Wish **
part one,
it’s her sixth birthday, and harry’s prioritized work over his own flesh and blood. Dad!Harry
. When the Lights Flash **
Part One, Part Two
the one where the cameras watch her as she collapses. older
. Best I Ever Had *
harry is asked what his wife is better at than his exes on family feud, and smugly answers: sex.
. Dream a Little Dream of Me *
y/n tells harry of an interesting dream where timothee chalamet impregnates her.
. Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner *
it’s baby’s first day of kindergarten, and harry’s a bit of a mess. dad!harry
. Anesthesia and Letting Go *
harry takes care of a dopey y/n after she has her wisdom teeth removed.
. A Time Under the Canyon Moon *
harry blows raspberries into his baby’s tummy, and they get a rash. dad!harry
. Raise Your Glass *
escaping a party for sitting on a rooftop on new year’s eve over time’s square, and he’s got a resolution that takes her breath away.
. Don’t Go, Say You’ll Stay ** *
y/n is anxious while she’s in quarantine, and harry tries to calm her down over the phone.
. Life is But a Dream *
Harry’s asleep and Y/N is jealous. pregnant!reader
. Holding Him *
the one where she doesn’t mind holding him.
. Dessert *
a glimpse into their first date.
. Heart Like Yours *
telling him she’s pregnant when all they ever do is fight//alternate ending to where’s your heart.
. Loving You’s the Antidote **
how harry reacts to liam’s harsh comments.
. Kissy *
harry’s kisses are therapeutic, and she reckons loving him is, too. ft. christmas
. Just Let Me Adore You *
falling asleep on Harry, to a film.
. In Another Life** *
Harry and y/n play a little game on an open field where their worries don’t exist and they’re in another life+ have lots of babies.
. Gone So Long From You *
reuniting after months apart.
. Distant, Safe **
Harry comes home to find y/n locked has herself up in the washroom. tw: brief mentions of suicide and panic attacks. obvious mental distance.
. To Be in Love *
what they didn’t tell her about being in love.
. Blazing Fire, Blazing Love **
Y/N likes to look at the sky too much, and Harry likes to look at Y/N too much.
. Right in The One Heart *
harry sees y/n for the first time during the dodgeball game at the late late show.
. Demands *
their baby kicks too hard and cracks one of her ribs, therefore one (1) mister harry styles must accommodate to her every wish.
. If Looks Could Kill *
they’re newly married and pregnant, and Harry is a tad bit too protective and y/n has zero patience.
. Come to Bed *
she’s trying to finish an essay, and he’s being adorably, irresistibly clingy.
. No Glove, No Love *
in which harry and y/n’s roommates are fucking, and so they must spend time with each other at two in the morning. fratboy!harry
. Candy Wrappers *
harry leaves candy wrappers everywhere, and y/n’s had enough.
. Safe With Us *
they’re doing it when their five year old boy shuffles into their room after a nightmare, pouting with petrified eyes- the same eyes as his father. Dad!Harry
. Weird Little Birthday Girl *
she’s not used to being someone’s first choice. not used to having someone care enough to bring her the world for her birthday.
. Shower Trouble *
she falls in the shower, and he gets worried.
Met Gala Blurbs & Requests
. After The Party *
he’s drunk and babbling with his head on her lap on some couch, and she’s oh-so-in-love with him.
. Someone You Deserve **
she misses his MET gala event, and he flirts with Kendall. part one, part two
. Masterpiece ** *
he’s infatuated with her from the moment he sets his sights on her, and goes just a little bit crazy.
. Secretly Yours *
they’re supposed to avoid each other, but somehow end up making out in a storage closet at the met gala. secret relationship!au.
Summary: Harry Styles is the world’s most effortlessly cocky bastard in public. But behind closed doors? He’s soft for one person, her. Their love is private, sacred, the only thing that’s ever truly been his. But the internet is relentless, the rumors won’t stop, and she starts to wonder if she’ll ever fit into his world. Just when she’s about to pull away, Harry makes sure she never doubts it again. AKA: Soft (but also possessive) boyfriend Harry? Check. Jealous, protective, doesn’t-take-shit Harry? Also check. A public declaration, viral paparazzi moments, and one very necessary smut scene? You already know.
A/N: This fic is based on two requests (this one and this one from @dipmeinhoneyh) that fit so perfectly together I had no choice but to make it a full story. I hope you love it, I hope it makes you feral, and I hope you leave this feeling at least 10% more in love with Harry Styles than you already were. Also, if you ever see a man carrying all your bags through an airport while wearing your shirt?? Marry him immediately.
Word Count: 6k
Warnings:
Smut (obviously)—possessive, praise-heavy, SOFT but also FILTHY
Harry being the most protective, doting, airport-sherpa boyfriend alive
Jealousy and minor confrontation (because someone was dumb enough to question her worth)
Public scrutiny and social media toxicity (but don’t worry, he shuts that shit down)
Excessive amounts of boyfriend fluff (back rubs, forehead kisses, and “mine” moments galore)
Did I mention the smut? Because THE SMUT.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
Harry Styles was a menace.
Everyone knew it—especially the media. He wasn’t just the biggest name in music, he was also a nightmare to interview. He had little patience for industry bullshit, answered questions with nothing but a smirk or a sip of his drink, and rarely—if ever—gave the press what they wanted.
At this point, journalists had learned to come prepared when sitting across from him. They needed strategy, a solid game plan, and maybe even a shot of whiskey beforehand. Because Harry? Harry made it difficult.
And God, did he enjoy it.
The first clip that went viral was from a BBC interview.
The journalist was older, seasoned. She’d been in the game for decades and knew how to handle difficult personalities. Or at least, she thought she did.
The interview had been going fine—as fine as an interview with Harry Styles could be. He’d leaned back in his chair, one arm draped over the backrest, looking like he owned the place. Dressed in a half-unbuttoned silk shirt and tailored trousers, he was a picture of effortless arrogance.
Then she asked, “Do you think you’re difficult?”
Harry blinked. Didn’t move for a second. Then—slowly, deliberately—he picked up his drink, took a long sip, and held eye contact the entire time.
The silence stretched.
And stretched.
The journalist swallowed.
Finally, Harry licked his lips, tilted his head, and asked, “D’you think I care?”
The second clip was worse.
A different interview, a different day, same energy.
Harry was sitting in front of a panel of radio hosts, arms crossed, tattoos peeking out from under the loose sleeves of his sweater. The conversation had been moving along at a leisurely pace, touching on his tour, his latest album, the usual surface-level stuff.
Then one of the hosts leaned forward, smug, thinking he had the upper hand.
“So, tell us, Harry. What’s the song ‘Soft Spot’ about?”
Harry, who had been absentmindedly fiddling with one of his rings, paused. He exhaled through his nose, the barest hint of amusement curling at the corners of his mouth.
Then—without hesitation—he shrugged. “Dunno. Just a song.”
The hosts groaned in frustration.
The internet? Ate it up.
Edits of him smirking, of him dodging questions with effortless ease, flooded Twitter and TikTok. People captioned them with things like “This man is impossible” and “Certified menace behavior”.
The general consensus?
Harry Styles didn’t answer questions unless he wanted to.
Until someone asked about her.
It happened during a late-night talk show appearance.
The studio was dimly lit, the crowd buzzing with anticipation. Harry was perched on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, fingers playing absentmindedly with the chain around his neck. He was half-paying attention, answering questions with his usual brand of casual indifference.
Then the host, a sharp-eyed comedian known for catching celebrities off guard, grinned. “Alright, Harry. I have a question I think the people really want to know.”
Harry didn’t react much. Just arched a slow, lazy brow. “Yeah?”
“You’ve been seen with the same girl a lot lately…”
For the first time all night, something shifted.
Subtly. Almost imperceptibly.
But it was there, the way his fingers paused against the metal of his chain, the way his shoulders tensed, just slightly, the way his mouth twitched, like he was already biting back a smirk.
The audience leaned forward.
The internet, watching from their screens, held their breath.
Harry tilted his head, slowly. His lips parted, there it was. That signature smirk, the one that sent fans into a frenzy.
“Yeah?”
The host grinned, seeing the shift. “Care to comment?”
There was a beat of silence.
Then—Harry grinned. Not his usual mocking, I’m-so-over-this smirk. A real grin. The kind that made his dimples crease, the kind that softened his otherwise sharp edges.
His fingers tapped once, twice against his thigh.
Then, he looked directly into the camera, his voice dropping just a fraction.
“She’s great.”
The studio lost it.
The audience roared—cheers, gasps, the works. Twitter exploded before the show even finished airing. Within minutes, #ShesGreat was trending worldwide.
Fans analyzed the clip from every angle:
The way his face softened.
The way his body language changed.
The fact that he—HARRY STYLES, NOTORIOUS MENACE—HAD ACTUALLY ANSWERED.
He didn’t say her name. Didn’t confirm anything outright. But the shift in him? The softness in his voice?
That was all people needed.
It was real.
And the world wasn’t ready.
Y/N wasn’t famous.
She wasn’t an actress, a model, a singer, or an influencer. There was no glamorous past, no viral moment that put her on the map. No high-profile connections, no childhood dream of Hollywood stardom.
She was just a girl with a normal life—one that, up until a year ago, had been blissfully simple.
Her days had always followed a rhythm.
Morning coffee at her favorite little café, tucked into a corner booth with a book. Work, which she genuinely enjoyed—something steady, something real, something that felt like hers. Drinks with friends on Fridays, lazy Sundays spent in oversized sweaters, grocery shopping in peace without having to worry about cameras or strangers whispering her name.
She had a routine. A quiet, predictable world.
Then Harry Styles had walked into it.
And ruined everything.
She still didn’t know how it had happened.
It was easy to pinpoint the beginning—the first time their paths had crossed, the first time she’d realized that Harry fucking Styles wasn’t just a name on a magazine cover, but a person with thoughts and moods and an irritatingly sharp wit.
But she never expected it to go anywhere.
At first, he was just a guy who flirted too much.
Then he was a guy who made her laugh.
Then he was the guy she couldn’t stop thinking about.
And somehow—without her even noticing—he became hers.
It had been over a year now. Twelve whole months of him.
Twelve months of stolen moments, whispered conversations in the dark, secret rendezvous that always ended with his lips on her skin and his voice murmuring, “Just us, love. That’s all that matters.”
Twelve months of hiding.
Because Harry? Harry was obsessed with keeping her safe.
"It’s our life, not theirs," he told her once. "You don’t owe them shit."
She’d been curled up in his lap when he said it, her fingers tracing lazy patterns over the tattoos on his arm.
She had been scared that night—really, truly scared.
Her phone had blown up with messages from friends, all linking her to articles and Twitter threads dissecting her existence. Speculation had spread like wildfire after one blurry photo of them together made it online. Nothing too obvious—just a candid shot of her walking ahead of him, their fingers barely brushing.
But it was enough.
Enough for people to start digging.
Within hours, her social media had been flooded. Comments, theories, strangers demanding to know who the hell she was and why she thought she deserved him.
She had wanted to throw her phone into the ocean.
Instead, she had buried her face into the curve of Harry’s neck, inhaling the scent of him—warm skin and expensive cologne and something inherently his. Something safe.
“I don’t think I can do this,” she had admitted, voice barely above a whisper.
Harry’s grip on her had tightened immediately. Protective. Possessive.
“You don’t have to,” he’d murmured. “Not like that. Not the way they want.”
And that was how they lived. No red carpets. No public declarations. No letting the world in. Just them, in their little bubble—hidden away in hotel rooms and dimly lit apartments, in long drives with the windows down, in whispered confessions at three in the morning.
It was beautiful. It was safe.
But Y/N knew—deep down, in the quiet moments when she was alone with her thoughts—that the world wouldn’t stop trying to tear it apart.
Because it wasn’t just them anymore. It hadn’t been for a while.
And no matter how fiercely Harry tried to protect her from it, the outside world was still watching.
Still waiting.
Still hungry for cracks in the foundation.
They didn’t understand him.
The world saw one version of Harry Styles.
The public version. The one who didn’t give a single shit what anyone thought of him. The one who strolled into interviews with that lazy, half-lidded smirk, sprawled out in his chair like he had all the time in the world, deliberately giving them nothing just to piss them off.
“Harry, is it true you walked out of your last meeting with the label?”
He barely blinked. “Wouldn’t you?”
“Is it also true that you—”
A slow sip of his drink. A deliberate pause.
Then, just for fun, a cocked eyebrow. “Dunno. You tell me.”
Harry Styles Gives Zero Fucks About Literally Everything.
It was a game. One he didn’t mind playing.
Because the more they focused on the persona, the less they looked too closely at what really mattered.
The less they dug into his real life.
The less they found her.
Because private Harry?
A completely different person.
Private Harry sent texts like, “be home in 5”, because he knew she worried. Because he knew she’d never say it out loud, but if he was running late, she’d start pacing the kitchen, chewing at her bottom lip, imagining the worst.
Private Harry stole her hand cream and chapstick just to smell like her when she wasn’t around.
Private Harry carried her bags through airports like they weighed nothing, insisting every time, “Not letting you lift a damn thing, love.”
Private Harry curled around her in his sleep, face buried against the curve of her neck, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns along her spine until he drifted off—breathing easier when she was there.
No one saw that Harry.
And he preferred it that way.
But every once in a while, the world got a glimpse.
And when they did, it fucking broke the internet.
One moment in particular had gone insanely viral.
It had been a bad day—one of those relentless, aggressive paparazzi swarms outside a studio in L.A.
Harry had already been in a foul mood—late for a meeting, running on three hours of sleep, coming off a night of back-to-back phone calls that had left him rubbing his temples in frustration.
The cameras had been waiting for him the second he stepped out the door.
“Harry! Over here!”
“Harry, how’s the new album?”
“Harry, what’s the deal with the tour delay?”
He ignored them. Didn’t even look up.
Then someone got too close—flashed a camera right in his face, nearly knocking into him.
And that was it.
He snapped.
“Fuck off, yeah?” Sharp, cutting, the words slicing through the air like a whip. His jaw locked, his body tense.
Paparazzi shuffled back, startled.
They knew his reputation.
They’d seen him do this before.
They thought that was the whole show.
Until Y/N appeared.
She had been standing a few feet behind him, waiting.
The second he turned and saw her, everything about him changed.
His scowl softened. His hands, which had been clenched into fists? Relaxed.
And in front of dozens of cameras, in front of the very people he’d just been spitting fire at, Harry immediately reached for her—a steadying touch to her back, a soft tilt of his head. “Y’alright, love?”
Quiet. Gentle. Intimate.
As if nothing else existed in that moment but her.
The paparazzi?
Fucking shook.
The clip blew up online within hours.
Side-by-side comparisons flooded Twitter:
🚨 Harry Styles telling the press to fuck off vs. Harry Styles turning into the softest human alive the second his girlfriend walks into frame. 🚨
Memes. Reactions. Fans dissecting the exact millisecond his demeanor changed.
WHO IS SHE?!
HOW DOES SHE HAVE HIM WRAPPED AROUND HER FINGER LIKE THAT?!
The discourse was endless.
And Harry?
Didn’t say a damn word about it.
Because as long as they were talking about that, they weren’t looking for more.
They weren’t digging deeper.
And that meant she was still safe.
For now.
But the internet was relentless.
Because the thing about secrets—especially ones that belong to someone as famous as Harry Styles—is that they don’t stay secrets for long.
And when people suspect even the smallest sliver of something?
They become obsessed.
It started with something small.
Something that, to anyone else, would have seemed like nothing at all.
Harry had been spotted leaving a café in London, his sleeves rolled up, sunglasses perched lazily on his nose, a coffee cup in one hand.
But that wasn’t what fans noticed.
No.
What they noticed was the bracelet on his wrist.
A thin, woven band. Nothing fancy, nothing designer.
And—most importantly—not his.
The theories exploded.
GUYS. HARRY’S WEARING A FRIENDSHIP BRACELET. HAS HE EVER WORN ONE BEFORE? NO. WHO MADE IT?!
Look at the colors. Do we think there’s a meaning?
I AM SO SERIOUS THIS IS A HANDMADE BRACELET SOMEONE IS IN LOVE WITH HIM AND IT IS NOT ME
WHO THE FUCK IS SHEEEE?
There was no confirmation.
No proof.
But that didn’t stop people from digging.
Because once the internet smelled a mystery, they wouldn’t let it go.
Then came the coffee shop photo.
Blurry. Grainy. Taken at just the right angle to be nearly useless—but not quite.
Because despite the bad quality, despite the distance, despite everything, one thing was clear.
He wasn’t alone.
There was a girl across from him.
A girl who wasn’t famous.
A girl who was sitting comfortably in his presence, laughing at something he said, one hand wrapped around her mug, the other resting—casually, easily—on the table between them.
Too close.
Too familiar.
Too real.
The internet lost its collective mind.
HARRY STYLES SPOTTED WITH THE MYSTERY GIRL IN LONDON—NEW GIRLFRIEND?!
HARRY DATING SOMEONE? WHO IS SHE?!
WHO IS SHE. WHO IS SHE. WHO IS SHE. WHO IS SHE. WHO IS SHE.
I KNOW WHO SHE IS @yourusername!!
The photo was picked apart frame by frame.
Theories flooded TikTok and Twitter.
Some people were excited—because Harry in love?! Soft domestic boyfriend Harry?! They’d been dreaming of this for years.
But not everyone was happy.
Because some people… some people wanted access.
Some people wanted control.
Some people wanted to destroy anything that felt too real.
It started small.
A few comments.
A few tweets.
A few people saying she wasn’t good enough.
That she was using him.
That she was just another clout chaser who would milk this for all it was worth.
Then the DMs started.
Vicious. Personal. Cruel.
You’ll never be good enough for him.
You’re ruining his career.
No one wants you here.
He’ll leave you just like he’s left all the others.
And she told herself that she wouldn’t let it get to her.
That it didn’t matter.
That these people didn’t know her.
That as long as Harry was with her—really with her—nothing else mattered.
But it wasn’t just online anymore.
Because now, when she stepped outside, she swore she could feel the eyes on her.
Now, when she walked into her favorite coffee shop, she hesitated—half-expecting someone to recognize her.
Now, when she reached for her phone, her hands shook.
She started pulling away. Just a little.
Stopped texting first.
Stopped answering right away.
Stopped leaning into his touch as freely as she had before.
And Harry—because of course Harry noticed—tilted his head at her one night when she turned away from his kiss, his brow furrowing, his thumb tracing soft circles against her wrist.
“Alright, love?”
Her chest ached.
Because he was looking at her like that.
Like he knew.
Like he could see right through her.
Like he was already worried.
She forced a smile. Pressed a quick, barely-there kiss to the corner of his mouth.
“Yeah,” she whispered.
And lied.
The industry party was a mistake.
Y/N had known it the second they walked in.
The air inside the private venue was thick with expensive perfume, whiskey, and the kind of arrogance that could only come from people who knew they were untouchable.
The laughter was too loud. The conversations too sharp, dripping with faux warmth and hidden daggers.
She felt out of place immediately.
It wasn’t her world.
It never had been.
And standing next to Harry—Harry, who fit into this world so effortlessly, who could command attention just by existing, who seemed to belong in a way she never could—only made it worse.
He hadn’t let go of her hand since they arrived.
Had kept her close, thumb brushing over the back of her knuckles, squeezing her fingers in silent reassurance every few minutes, as if he could feel the tension in her shoulders, sense the way she was holding her breath.
But no amount of grounding touches could change the fact that she didn’t belong here.
That much became even more obvious when the wrong person decided to open their mouth.
He was a producer.
Smarmy. Arrogant. The kind of man who loved the sound of his own voice and had been in the industry long enough to think he could get away with saying anything.
And for some reason—maybe it was the champagne, maybe it was just sheer audacity—he chose her as his next target.
“Didn’t think this was your type, Harry.”
Y/N froze.
Harry stiffened next to her.
The producer took a slow sip of his drink, eyes flickering over her like she was something to be inspected.
“Quiet little thing, huh? Thought rockstars liked more excitement.”
Her stomach dropped.
It wasn’t just the words.
It was the way he said them.
The smirk. The condescension. The absolute certainty that he was untouchable, that he could say whatever the fuck he wanted without consequence.
Y/N shrank back before she could stop herself.
And that was when Harry snapped.
He didn’t move right away.
Didn’t react instantly.
Just went completely, unnervingly still.
A muscle jumped in his jaw.
His fingers—still tangled with hers—tightened.
And then—slowly, deliberately—he turned.
And stepped right into the guy’s space.
Harry Styles didn’t have to raise his voice to be intimidating.
Didn’t have to yell, didn’t have to make a scene.
All he had to do was look at someone the right way.
And the producer? He knew.
He fucking knew.
Because suddenly, the confidence wavered.
The smirk faded.
The hand holding his drink trembled just slightly.
“She’s worth more than you ever will be,” Harry said, voice low, icy, laced with so much venom that Y/N shivered.
And then—as if to drive the point home—his hand found her waist, pulled her against him, shielded her from the world with nothing but the sheer force of his presence.
It was a warning.
A claim.
And everyone in the room fucking knew it.
He didn’t let go of her for the rest of the night.
Didn’t stop touching her.
Didn’t stop checking on her.
And when they finally left—when they were finally alone—he held her even closer.
She should have felt safe.
Should have felt protected.
But instead, something heavy settled in her chest.
Because the truth was, this wasn’t just about one asshole at a party.
It was about all of it.
The industry. The fans. The internet. The constant feeling of not being enough.
And maybe… maybe they were right.
Maybe she really wasn’t enough for him.
She wasn’t going to say it.
She wasn’t.
But then Harry—still holding her, still watching her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered—brushed his lips against her forehead, whispered, “You alright, love?”
And it just—it broke her.
Her breath hitched.
And suddenly, she was blurting it out before she could stop herself.
“Maybe they’re right,” she whispered, voice barely above a breath.
Harry froze.
“Maybe I’m not enough for you.”
His entire body tensed.
Like she had just physically hit him.
Like the words had physically hurt him.
“Don’t you ever say that again.”
It wasn’t a plea.
It wasn’t a request.
It was a command.
His hands framed her face, tilting her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze.
And when she did—when she really looked at him—she almost couldn’t handle what she saw.
Because he was devastated.
Shattered.
“Don’t you ever—” His breath shuddered, his forehead pressing against hers. “—say that again.”
She swallowed. “Harry—”
“No.” His grip tightened, like he was afraid she’d slip away if he let go. “You belong with me. Here. Always.” His lips brushed hers, desperate, aching. “And I don’t care what anyone else says.”
She closed her eyes.
Breathed him in.
Let him hold her together, piece by piece.
Because if Harry Styles believed she belonged—
Maybe—just maybe—she could believe it, too.
The storm hadn’t passed.
Not really.
The world still had its claws in them, still watched their every move, still dissected every glance, every touch, every fleeting moment caught on camera.
But Harry… Harry never wavered.
Not once.
Not even when the headlines got uglier.
Not even when the whispers turned into full-blown speculation.
Not even when she started pulling back again, flinching at every flash of a camera, hesitating before reaching for his hand in public, terrified of giving them more fuel.
He noticed.
Of course he noticed.
But he didn’t push.
Didn’t force her to talk about it.
Didn’t tell her that she was still enough, still his, still the only thing in his life that mattered more than anything.
No.
Harry Styles didn’t waste his breath on words.
He showed her.
And the whole damn world saw it.
Madison Square Garden.
A sold-out crowd.
Phones up. Lights blinding.
It was a big night—bigger than most.
The kind of night that would be talked about for years, the kind of performance that would live forever in grainy fan videos, breathless social media posts, and blurry concert footage.
And she wasn’t supposed to be there.
Hadn’t planned on coming.
Had told Harry she’d stay home—avoid the cameras, avoid the crowd, avoid the possibility of being dragged into something she never wanted to be a part of.
But somehow—somehow—she found herself standing in the wings, heart in her throat, hands curled into fists at her sides as she watched him command the stage.
It was impossible not to be captivated.
Impossible not to watch the way he moved, the way he laughed into the mic between songs, the way he glowed under the stage lights.
He was in his element.
He belonged here.
And she—
Well.
She was just trying to stay invisible.
But then—
He turned.
Looked right at her.
And everything stopped.
Because suddenly—mid-show, mid-crowd, mid-fucking-Madison-Square-Garden—Harry Styles did something he never did.
He talked about her.
On stage.
For the world to hear.
“This one’s for someone who thinks she doesn’t belong in my world,” he said, voice steady, eyes never leaving hers.
The crowd screamed.
A roar—loud and deafening and completely unaware of what was actually happening.
“But she is my world.”
Her breath caught.
And then—before she could process what was happening—
He started playing.
A new song.
Unreleased.
Just for her.
And the lyrics—oh, the fucking lyrics.
They were filled with pieces of them.
Little inside jokes woven into verses, fragments of whispered late-night confessions hidden in melodies, the kind of details that only she would understand.
A love letter.
A declaration.
A warning to the world that she was his and he was hers, and that nothing—not the industry, not the headlines, not the relentless scrutiny of millions—could change that.
The internet lost its mind.
Clips went viral within minutes.
Fan theories exploded.
But none of it mattered.
Not really.
Because in that moment—in the middle of everything, in front of everyone, under the brightest damn spotlight possible—
It was just them.
And she belonged.
She didn’t hear the rest of the set.
Not really.
Not past the pounding of her heart, not past the static in her brain, not past the overwhelming realization that he had just done that.
For her.
For everyone to hear.
The screaming of the crowd blurred into white noise. The energy in the arena buzzed around her, the walls seeming to pulse with the sound of thousands of people still losing their minds.
But she couldn’t move.
Couldn’t think.
Couldn’t do anything except stare at the stage where he still stood, grinning like he hadn’t just shattered her entire world in the best possible way.
Because Harry Styles didn’t do things like this.
He dodged questions in interviews.
Shrugged off rumors.
Gave the media nothing to work with.
And yet, tonight—tonight, he had given them everything.
And she had no idea how to breathe through it.
Somewhere along the way, her fingers had curled into the fabric of her sweater, clutching at herself like it might help her stay grounded. Like she wasn’t seconds away from dissolving into nothing but feelings.
Because she knew what this meant.
Knew what it would cause.
Knew that by morning, headlines would be flooded with theories, and her name—or at least her existence—would be dragged into the light again.
But she couldn’t bring herself to care.
Because he’d said she was his world.
He’d said she belonged.
And maybe—just maybe—she believed him.
She was still in a daze when the show ended.
Still stuck in her own head when the lights in the arena dimmed, when the roaring of the crowd turned to scattered cheers and fading echoes of his name.
She barely noticed the way people moved around her.
Security, crew members, the distant hum of conversation—it all faded into the background.
Until—
“There you are.”
Her breath caught.
And then he was there.
Harry.
Still sweaty, still breathless from the high of performing, still looking at her like she was the only thing in the entire fucking world.
He didn’t say anything at first.
Didn’t ask if she’d liked the song.
Didn’t joke about how she’d better have been paying attention.
Didn’t do anything except close the space between them, hands gripping her face, lips pressing against her forehead, breath warm and shaky against her skin.
And she—
God.
She melted.
Because she could feel it—everything he wasn’t saying, everything he had already said on that stage.
The weight of it settled in her chest, so thick she thought she might break apart.
And then—so quietly she almost missed it—
“Tell me you’re staying.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
Because he knew.
Of course he fucking knew.
Knew how much she had struggled with this.
Knew how many times she had almost walked away.
Knew how much she loved him, but how terrified she was of all of this.
And yet—
His voice was steady.
Not desperate.
Not pleading.
Just… certain.
Like he already knew the answer.
Like he already knew her.
And maybe he did.
Because before she could second-guess herself—before she could let doubt creep in, before she could convince herself she wasn’t strong enough for this—
She nodded.
Just once.
And Harry fucking collapsed against her.
Exhaling like he’d been holding his breath for months.
Arms wrapping around her like he was afraid she might disappear.
Lips crashing against hers in a kiss that was anything but careful.
Because it wasn’t a question anymore.
Wasn’t a hesitation or a what if or an I don’t know.
It was real.
It was them.
And she was staying.
His hotel room was dark, save for the soft glow from the city outside.
But she barely noticed.
Because the only thing that mattered—the only thing that existed in this moment—was him.
Harry.
Pressed against her, warm and solid, breath still uneven from everything that had led to this.
His hands were everywhere.
Not rushed. Not desperate. Just certain.
Slow, teasing touches down her spine.
Fingertips tracing the dip of her waist.
Lips skimming along her throat, up to the shell of her ear, where his voice was low, husky, full of intent.
"Gonna remind you who you belong to, yeah?"
Her breath hitched.
Because fuck.
She’d heard that voice before—cocky, teasing, full of mischief when he was playing up his charm.
But this?
This was different.
This was a promise.
Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, gripping, needing—but he wasn’t in any rush.
Because Harry didn’t just take.
He worshipped.
And she felt it.
In the way his hands moved over her skin—slow, deliberate.
In the way he kissed her—deep, devastating.
Like he had all the time in the world.
Like she was the only thing in it.
His mouth found the curve of her shoulder.
The dip between her ribs.
The inside of her wrist, where her pulse thrummed beneath his lips.
Every inch of her.
And with every kiss, every touch, came a whisper.
"You're everything, love."
"Perfect for me."
"Mine."
Her face burned, but he wouldn’t let her look away.
Wouldn’t let her shrink away from the way he saw her.
Because when she got shy—when she tried to hide—
He caught her chin, thumb tracing her jaw, forcing her to meet his gaze.
And fuck, that look.
Like she was something sacred.
Like she was something he could never get enough of.
"Look at you, taking me so well."
Her breath shuddered out of her.
And God, he knew what he was doing.
The filthy praise, the way he held her like she was precious, the possessiveness in his voice—
It was too much and not enough, all at once.
And he didn’t stop.
Didn’t stop until she was falling apart beneath him, gasping his name, hands tangled in his hair, nails raking down his back.
Didn’t stop until she was completely his.
And then—when the world had settled again, when their breathing was slow and tangled together, when she was half-asleep in his arms
Harry took care of her.
Of course he did.
Because he always did.
Pressed a kiss to her temple.
Murmured soft things against her skin as he cleaned her up, as he wrapped her up in him.
Strong arms pulling her close, keeping her warm, keeping her safe.
Only ever his.
And just before sleep pulled her under—
Just before her body fully relaxed against his—
She heard it.
Soft.
Low.
Meant just for her.
"Love you, you know that?"
And she did.
God, she did.
But what really got her—what really made her heart ache in the best, most devastating way—was that he never said it like he needed her to say it back.
Never said it like he was waiting for some kind of validation.
He said it like a fact.
Like the sun would rise tomorrow.
Like the sky was blue.
Like her being his was something permanent.
And maybe it was.
The airport was a nightmare.
The second they stepped inside, cameras started flashing, voices shouting—Harry! Over here! Is that your girlfriend?! Harry, can you confirm—
He ignored them.
Of course he did.
Didn’t even flinch.
Just kept walking, kept his hand firmly on the small of her back, kept her close.
And he was carrying everything.
Her suitcase.
Her tote bag.
Her carry-on.
Even the stupid travel pillow she’d nearly forgotten in the car.
Meanwhile, she was strolling beside him, completely unbothered, sipping her coffee like she didn’t have a single care in the world.
The contrast? Insane.
And the internet lost its mind.
The tweets came fast.
@stylesupdates: HARRY CARRYING EVERY SINGLE ONE OF HER BAGS WHILE SHE JUST DRINKS HER COFFEE??? SIR. YOU ARE WHIPPED.
@hslotlover: HE'S WEARING HER SHIRT (it’s posted on her Instagram @yourusername) AGAIN I CAN’T DO THIS TODAY.
Because, yeah.
He was.
It was an old, slightly oversized tee—hers.
The one she always stole from his drawer. The one she wore to bed whenever he wasn’t around.
And now?
Now he was wearing it in public.
On purpose.
Like some kind of quiet, undeniable statement.
Like a middle finger to the world.
But the real moment—the one that cemented it all—was the photo.
A blurry, candid shot someone snapped from across the terminal.
Harry, walking ahead, death glaring at the paparazzi.
Her, right behind him, looking effortlessly soft, untouchable.
And the caption?
"He’s still an asshole, and she’s still his soft spot."
And fuck.
If that wasn’t the truest thing anyone had ever said.
Because the world still didn’t get it.
But he didn’t care.
Because she was his.
And that was enough.
That had always been enough.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
Thank you so much for reading, you’re a total angel! Don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! It means everything to me! 💖
Summary: Your Vegas trip to celebrate your friend's birthday turns into a night you hadn't expected when you meet Harry Styles in the casino.
Warnings: Fingering, hand kink, gambling (well, it is Vegas). 18+ ONLY!
Word Count: 3533
A/N: One shot originally posted in 2017. Inspired by Harry's performance at the iHeart Festival in Las Vegas. Edited to be a reader fic. This is for the gals with the obsession with his hands. Also, rereading this, I realized you aren't that great of a friend, but hopefully you can look past that lol.
"Thank you," he said to the crowd. "I am a narcissist, so that will help my ego, thank you very much."
"Oh God," you rolled your eyes. "Like he needs any help boosting his ego."
You felt Simone poke you in the side, her apparent glare of disapproval burning a hole into your profile. You chuckled as you lowered your head. She'd drug you to this iHeart Radio concert in Vegas. You hadn't really wanted to go when she announced she had tickets, but because it was part of her birthday trip, you'd agreed to attend.
Harry Styles. Give me a break, you groaned. The kid had come out looking like a cross between a court jester and a Tim Burton character in his harlequin suit and nearly see-through shirt with a big bow at the neck, and you were supposed to swoon? Apparently so, you thought to yourself when you heard the crowd made up of mostly females fill the room with screams louder than any heavy metal audience you'd ever been a part of. And you supposed the bow was supposed to signify his desire to be a present you were to unwrap?
You giggled during his set as he pranced across stage trying to be a rockstar. You had to hand it to him. He definitely had the stage presence and charisma, and despite the fact that you'd never been a fan of boy bands, you could see why he had so many fans. Plus, you had to admit even if only to yourself, he had an incredibly handsome face. No doubt he knew it though.
Stepping further out to the catwalk, Harry gave the audience what they came for, even if they hadn't initially come to see him in particular. You couldn't help it though. Watching him dance around in that suit had you laughing, especially when he'd bop his head from side to side as he sang about "having your baby" and "it's none of your business."
By the time his set was over and he'd walked off stage, you knew Simone was waiting to let you have it. You gave her a smirk as she shook her head at you and rolled her eyes.
"I don't wanna hear it," she said.
"What? I didn't say anything!" you laughed.
"No, but you're thinking it."
"What?" you held up your hands. "It was actually not bad. I kinda liked it."
"You thought it was funny."
"Yeah," you laughed harder. "It was. But that last song's gonna be stuck in my head for a while, so you should be happy about that."
"Ugh," Simone groaned.
You stayed for a few more acts that you didn't think were much better before finally calling it a night and heading back to your hotel.
"You're going to bed?" you asked when you saw Simone pull her bag of toiletries from her suitcase and walk to the bathroom.
"Yeah...why?"
"This is Vegas!" you exclaimed. "The city that never sleeps."
"I thought that was New York."
"Whatever. Let's go hit the tables."
Simone slumped her shoulders. "I'm kinda beat."
You stuck out your bottom lip in an attempt to sway her with a pout. "But your birthday's not over."
With a sigh, Simone dropped her items on the bed and grabbed her purse.
"C'mon," she grinned. "Just an hour or two."
"Yay!" you squealed as you opened the door and stepped out into the hall.
Luck was on your side for the first twenty minutes or so, and you were up a good three hundred when you suggested you make your way to the higher dollar tables.
"Are you kidding?" exclaimed Simone. "You'll lose it all on one bet!"
"It's called gambling," you snorted.
Despite her argument, Simone followed you to one of the exclusive rooms. You saw the pit boss eye you as you sat down at the table, but he didn't say anything when you laid down your chips. Hesitantly, Simone did the same and you caught her swallow hard when the dealer placed a card in front of her and then one in front of you, followed by two more cards facing up. You grinned when yours was an ace, and the dealer slid the cards into the finder. Flipping up the bottom card, he revealed a Jack.
"Woohoo!" you cheered.
"Damn, you are on a streak," Simone commented as she decided to stay on a six. Unfortunately, the dealer didn't bust and she lost. "Crap. I'm gonna sit the next one out. Meet you at the bar?"
You were barely listening. Something - or someone - had caught your eye as he walked across the room.
"I'll be damned," you muttered.
"Huh?"
"Look who just walked in," you nodded toward your right. "Mr. Ego himself."
"Holy shit!" Simone breathed. "Ooh he looks good, too. He changed out of his suit."
You turned your head slightly to notice that he indeed was wearing a basic white t-shirt and black jeans.
"Well of course," you mocked. "Even a narcissist like himself can't keep up the facade all night."
"Stop calling him that," Simone argued. "You know he was just being cheeky, and he doesn't have a big ego."
"Please," you rolled your eyes. "His ego is so visible; I can almost watch it grow."
"All bets up," you heard the dealer say.
"Oh, I'm done," Simone shook her head while you placed another healthy bet.
The dealer slid the cards in front of you. Your top card was a three. Not good. you took a peek at your bottom card. A queen. Shit. Fortunately the dealer had a four, so he was likely to bust. you went with the odds and stayed. Turning over his bottom card, the dealer revealed a ten. Taking another card, he turned over a king. Yes!
"Oh my God woman, you have some luck!"
You beamed at Simone just as you heard another voice behind you.
"Ah, wonderful," he clapped. "Looks like I picked the lucky table."
"Hello."
It was Simone who actually spoke. For the first time ever, it seemed you were tongue-tied.
"Hi," Harry greeted. You caught a glimpse of his dimpled grinned before his fingers grazed your back and he took the seat next to you.
Clearing your throat, you watched out of the corner of your eye as Harry placed a stack of chips on the table. But it wasn't the obvious amount of money he was willing to chuck on a single bet that caught your attention the most. It was his hand and the lovely rings that adorned it.
You'd always had a thing for nice hands on a man. And Harry definitely had them. Long, slender fingers, great for playing piano, guitar and...other things.
The cards were dealt, and you peeked at your bottom card. You already had seventeen and the dealer had a five showing. You were definitely going to stay. You watched Harry's hand as he tapped lightly on the table, seeming to contemplate his next move. Suddenly, he leaned towards you and whispered.
"What should I do?"
You raised a brow. "Excuse me?" The kid didn't know how to play?
"Well, I...I know the rules of the game. It's just...you seem to have the luck on your side, so I wanna make sure I make the right move."
"Oh," you chuckled. You looked at the dealer's card and pointed. "He's only got a five. Odds are, he's gonna bust."
"And why's that?"
"Because...the dealer has to get to at least seventeen. You have to assume he has a ten underneath. So that's only fifteen. The next card has a high chance of being a ten or a face card. That would make him bust. So...you have a three. If the card you're not showing is anything over an eight, you're gonna want to stay."
"What if it's an eight?"
You grinned. "Well then, that's eleven. You're gonna want to double down."
With a stoic expression, Harry grabbed a stack of chips the same height as the first and placed them next to it. Then he nodded and gestured at the dealer who laid another card down for him. A queen. When the dealer revealed his own cards, your prediction had been right and he busted. Harry turned to you with a Cheshire cat smile.
"Thanks, love," he said.
You couldn't help but smile back. "Anytime."
You played several rounds, both of you winning most of them except when the dealer got an automatic blackjack. You heard Simone yawn behind you, and you felt a tinge of guilt that you'd almost forgotten about her.
"Are you ready to go?" you asked her.
"Yeah, but you can stay."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course." Then she leaned to whisper in your ear. "I told you he's not a bad guy."
You pursed your lips. "I didn't say he was."
"Yeah...you kinda did."
"Okay, okay," you nudged her. "We'll talk about it later."
You said a quick goodnight, and she walked away just as Harry got another blackjack. He hooted, making the dealer chuckle.
"I reckon you're good luck," Harry beamed at you.
You shrugged, nonchalantly. "I have my moments."
You watched as Harry inspected his next facedown card, completely mesmerized by his hands. You suddenly felt flushed as you wondered what they would feel like on you. You blinked hard and shook your head. What the hell was wrong with you?
"I really like that ring," you finally said aloud.
"Which one?"
"That rose-shaped one. Very pretty."
"Thanks," he looked at the ring and back up at you. "It's one of my favorites."
A handful of games later, you realized you must be up at least a grand. Unfortunately, luck only lasted so long, and you started to lose, busting a couple times and then staying when the dealer got a twenty.
"I think it's time to cash in," you admitted. "While I'm still ahead."
"Oh, don't go," said Harry. "You're my good luck charm."
You laughed. "I'm sure that's not true. You're doing great on your own."
"Stay. Please."
You sucked in your lips as you looked at his face. Goodness, he was cute. Perhaps you had been a little harsh, dismissing him merely because of who he was...or rather, who you suspected him to be. It wasn't fair.
"Okay, but I'm not playing anymore."
"Then we'll play something else," Harry suggested. "Craps? Roulette?"
"I'm not good at either of those," you frowned.
"Roulette's easy. It's just a guessing game. C'mon."
Taking your chips, you followed Harry to the roulette table where a larger crowd was gathered.
"Pick a number," he said.
"That easy, huh?"
"Sure," he shrugged.
"There's probably more to it than that, but I have no idea," you commented.
"Probably. But we're just playing for fun."
You watched the wheel spin and the little ball stop in the number twenty-two. A woman squealed and the dealer paid her her winnings.
"Playing for fun is for Monopoly money," you said. "This is real money."
Harry chuckled. "So was blackjack."
"Yeah, but I know how to play that."
"Pick a number, love," he said again. "Or a color if you'd rather."
You looked at the board and considered your options. Finally, you chose the number thirty-five. You watched Harry's fingers as he placed a stack of chips on the number itself, more on the column, and even more on black. You weren't sure how much money that was, but you weren't about to ask. Your stomach was in knots as you watched the wheel spin. Finally, the ball stopped.
"Number eleven!" the dealer shouted. Your heart sank, but you caught Harry smiling.
"What happened?" you asked.
"You won," he replied. "Twice."
"Huh? How'd I do that? He called eleven."
"Eleven is black and it's in the same column as thirty-five. That's where I put the bets."
"Oh," you mouthed.
Harry rubbed his hand up your back. "Told you, you're my good luck charm. Now pick another number."
"I can't keep betting with your money!"
"Alright. Then we'll use yours," he reached for your hand.
"Hey!"
Harry laughed harder, grabbing only a few of your chips. "C'mon, pick something."
"Fine, but I'm just choosing black."
"Black it is," Harry nodded, setting your chips down. Then he took more of his own and placed them between several different numbers in different places. you weren't sure what he was doing, you were lost. Finally, he turned to you.
"Have an idea," he said.
Sliding the rose ring off his finger, he kissed it, then placed it on top of your chips on the black.
"What's that for?" you inquired.
"That's yours if you win."
All you could do was stare at him. The dealer spun the wheel, you could hear the ball bouncing and the other players cheering. But you just stood there staring at Harry Styles. This guy you'd thought was a complete egotistical douchebag until about thirty minutes ago.
"Number seventeen!" the dealer called.
You cringed, trying to read the expression on Harry's face. But he merely stared back at you.
"Is seventeen black?" you asked him.
He threw his head back and let out a loud guffaw. "Yes, it is."
Your eyes grew wide and you pushed his chest with your hands. "What the fuck, no way!"
Harry continued to laugh as he covered your hands with his that clung to his t-shirt. Your eyes fell down to look at them and it was then that you noticed his shirt was almost sheer, just like the one he'd worn on stage, minus the pineapple shapes. You could see several splashes of ink displayed on his chest, and for a second you wished he would let you examine them all in private.
Your chest rose and fell from excitement and exhilaration, and you chuckled to yourself. Letting go of you, Harry collected the winnings and his ring.
"Here you are," he said, handing it to you.
"No," you shook your head. "No, I can't take that."
"Why not? I said it was yours if you won."
"This is too..." you felt the ring in your hand momentarily. "No, I can't accept it."
Twisting his mouth in confusion, Harry watched you as you slid the ring back on his gorgeous finger.
"That's where it belongs," you whispered.
"Sorry?"
"On your hand," you let out a sigh. "You have really beautiful hands."
You heard him giggle slightly as you continued to stare at them, taking them both in your own hands as though you were inspecting them. You were probably creeping him out, but you were lost in your own thoughts.
"Um...here's your...your money," he swallowed, releasing his hand from yours and reaching for your chips.
"Oh, thanks. I should..."
"No, thank you," his lips curled up. "I really do think you had a lucky streak tonight."
You grinned at him, your tongue darting out of the corner of your mouth. "Not completely lucky."
Harry's smile grew as he raised a brow at your cheeky comment.
"See ya, Harry," you winked and turned around. "I had fun."
"Wait, where are you going?" you felt his hand on your arm.
"To my room," you pointed up at the ceiling.
"Do you have to?"
You paused and glared at him. This guy was very hard to read. You could tell he'd been flirting with you, but it also could've been harmless, and he was just being kind. Now he didn't want you to go? You bit your lip and stepped closer to him.
"I guess not," you nearly whispered. "But I think I might be done with gambling for the night."
"No worries," he said low, his eyes looking down into yours. "We could go somewhere else."
"What'd you have in mind?"
"My room."
You should have known he'd have one of the biggest rooms in the hotel. It took up nearly the entire side of one floor, front to back. You stared out the windows at the city lights, the amazing view taking your breath away and making you feel alive at the same time.
"Here you are," you heard Harry say behind you.
You turned to see two glasses in his hands. Taking one from him, you murmured a thank you and took a sip of the best tequila you'd ever had in your life. You threw your head back with a sigh as you heard him hum in agreement.
"So you stay in rooms like this...all by yourself?"
"Yes. Sometimes."
"Must get lonely."
"Sometimes."
Taking another sip, you strolled around the outer perimeter of the room, stopping at the other corner window where you could see a view of the mountains.
"I love Vegas," you commented. "I used to want to move here. It's like it's own little word, separate fr-"
Suddenly, your glass left your hand and Harry set it on a nearby table. Then he grabbed you and kissed you, hard, his tongue darting deep into your mouth.
"Tell me what you want," he demanded as his lips traveled down your neck.
"What?" you asked, breathless.
"What you want me to do to you. I'll do whatever you like."
"Oh..." you said with a moan. "Your hands. I want your hands on me."
"Okay. Where do you like to be touched?"
"Anywhere. Everywhere. I just...I want those gorgeous hands and fingers on me."
Harry's eyes met yours, and he nodded his understanding. Reaching behind you, he found the zipper of your dress. It fell to the floor instantly, pooling at your feet. Though there was a cool temperature in the room, you suddenly felt hot all over as Harry's gaze roamed your body. Then giving you his hand, you stepped out of your dress and kicked off your heels. He pulled you closer to him until his hands cupped your naked breasts. You shut your eyes at the contact, the sensation already more than you could bear.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his thumbs grazing over your nipples causing goosebumps to rise over your flesh.
You covered his hands with yours, slowly guiding one of them down to your panty line.
"Mmm," he sounded as his fingers slid down and met wetness.
You heard his breaths quicken with yours, and he swallowed hard. His fingertip touched the outer rim of your center, teasing you in tiny circles. You bucked your hips to allow him access, but he was insistent on keeping with his own rhythm.
"Please," you begged softly.
"Not yet, love," he cooed.
Releasing his hand, he pushed your panties down and off. Then he kissed you again before guiding you to the plush sofa. He sat down and pulled you on top of him so that you straddled him, your hands on his shoulders. His eyes dark and lids heavy, his hands caressed you softly before kneading your breasts, his fingers pinching your nipples.
You moaned low, wishing he would put his mouth on them, but you could tell he was taking you at your word, giving you exactly what you'd asked for. You looked down at his hands as one slowly slid down your stomach, and his thumb met your already swollen bud.
"Oh God," you panted, lifting yourself on your knees so he had better access.
Harry then brought his hand to his mouth where you watched him lick two fingers before returning them to your clit. He stroked you slowly, making your knees buckle until he finally, ever so gently, inserted one finger, then a second.
You threw your head back, your own hands clawing at the neck of his t-shirt as you rode his fingers. You could feel the cold chill of his rings against your skin and you let out another cry of pleasure.
"Tell me how it feels," you heard him say as he picked up speed.
"So good," you breathed, urging his other hand up your breast to your neck. "Feels so good."
Harry brought his fingers to your mouth, where you licked the tips seductively before sucking.
"Mmhmm," he agreed. "You look so good, too."
"I want you," you sounded, looking at his face, his shirt in your fist.
Harry chuckled. "I'm right here."
"I want you inside me," you clarified.
"I am inside you," he smirked. Cocky asshole.
"No," you pouted, sliding your hand down his chest to the bulge in his jeans.
"You said you wanted my hands." Harry raised a brow smugly, his fingers nearly finding just the right spot. You leaned towards him, your head falling in the crook of his neck.
"Please."
"I'm gonna watch you come like this," he said. "Then we'll fuck, yeah?"
You moaned against his skin, your hips bucking as you felt yourself reach your peak.
"Say my name when you come," he growled.
You looked into his eyes and smiled. "So you are a narcissist. I knew it."
"You bet I am."
You rolled your eyes, but not at him. The truth was, there was no way you couldn't have said his name. He made you come harder than anyone ever had. Twice.
Harry Styles and his fucking ego.
If you enjoyed, please like, comment, reblog or send me a msg!
Warnings: age gap, mild degradation, daddy kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex, controlling and abusive parental figure, mentions of sexual abuse, 18+ ONLY
┈ㆍ┈ㆍ⨯ * ₊ ୨ ♡ ୧ ₊ * ⨯ㆍ┈ㆍ┈
» Y/N «
“Is she an omega?” The red-haired woman sitting at the table next to mine gasps as her stare connects with me.
I toss my hair back, revealing the bonding gland located at the back of my neck. The circular organ is spongy and firm, with no bite marks on it. I’m proud of being unmated, but not many people think that way.
Her voice becomes strangled and choked when I caress the fleshy spot at the nape of my neck, gliding my fingers across it sensually. If there were any alphas around here, they’d go feral with lust. An omega proudly announcing her single unmated status is considered the equivalent of spreading your legs and displaying your pussy in public.
Conservative people think it’s an invitation for unwanted alphas to stake their claim.
Even though society has come far since the time when omegas had to be married and reproducing by the time they were eighteen, the expectation that an omega will find a mate by twenty one and get knocked up with her alpha’s children still persists in society.
The whispers around me grow.
As an omega, it’s impossible to go unnoticed in public. I stand out because of my body. I’m a walking temptation and I don’t try to hide it. Why bother? Everybody is bound to figure out that I’m an omega eventually.
I have also been told that I smell like milk and vanilla. A smell that captivates any alphas—both human and shifter—in my vicinity.
“Here’s your order. Enjoy!” The café’s assistant—a pretty beta girl—sets my café latte on the table, followed by a slice of strawberry shortcake. I love having something sweet in the morning. It’s my pick-me-up.
“Thanks.” I mumble before returning my attention to the book I’m reading.
The smell of fresh coffee swirls around me. I like this café because it’s open to only omegas and betas. It’s a safe space free from aggression and danger. Nowadays, there are many eateries and restaurants targeted at only omegas and betas, which has made it easier for omegas and betas to feel safe as they move into society.
My mind latches onto the words on the page. Heck, the erotic images that these romance novels paints have me lusting for my own happily-ever-after with a man who can keep me satisfied forever.
He grabbed her hair and pulled her head back before he kissed her…
I can feel a wet spot forming in my panties. The urge to stroke my intimate lips nags me. Reading romance novels makes me horny. It also reminds me of how good I can get railed if I try. It has been weeks since I had sex with anyone. I’m close to my heat—that period when I constantly drip with the need for a thick cock.
I skim my hands over my thighs, grabbing my flesh and loving how soft I feel. I love this part of being an omega. Omegas have the constant need to be filled and taken care of, which is why they were considered whores in the past. But I love my sexual side. It makes me feel alive.
The red-haired woman stares at me as I bring the coffee cup to my lips. I purr when the hot bitter liquid slides down my throat.
She coughs awkwardly. I smile at her, trying to look cocky. She’s a beta so she doesn’t fall for my sex appeal. Instead, she goes back to gossiping with her friends.
Most beta female—both human and shifter—have a different body structure. Less feminine and less curvy. They don’t have wide hips to carry a pack of babies nor huge breasts for their offspring to suckle milk from. My body was designed to give birth to and nurture healthy children.
I don’t hate the fact that I look fertile and lush. I’ve decided to own my curves and femininity. I use it to fulfill my own sexual needs. After all, my in-your-face fertility and softness make me a catch to men.
The heat from the coffee is settling in my stomach and spreading through my groin. I press my thighs together, trying to contain the stream of moisture leaking from my pussy. I can’t contain the insistent need for sexual intercourse.
That’s it.
I need a warm body on top of me and a big cock drilling into me tonight. Otherwise, I won’t get through tomorrow.
I whip out my phone and click on the blue square with a pink omega symbol inside it. It’s one of my favorite apps.
Omega Love Finder.
I downloaded it a year ago and it has given me my best sexual experiences.
I scroll the forbidden sex app under the table, sipping my drink as the women around me continue to make assumptions about me.
It took me a while to come to terms with the fact that even though I’m an omega and the world is a dangerous place for us, I have persistent sexual needs. Not just during my heats, which can be brutal unless I have a cock inside me all the time. Even on normal days, I have a high sex drive.
There’s one particular kink I enjoy more than any others. Being a little girl to a gentle dom. Call it biology, but I can’t get enough of being spoiled and provided for by a strong man. I want my partner to do all the work sexually—to dominate me, praise me, and tease me open with incentives and gentle commands.
Basically, I like being a pillow princess.
My looks have made it easy to find men who will cater to my needs. Most men tend to go soft when they see an omega. I guess everybody feels protective of me because of my biology.
While there are often alphas on Love Finder looking for omegas in heat to help them through their ruts, I always go for beta shifters because it’s safe for me.
I flick through the photos of men on the app.
I’m in the mood for a specific kind of dom tonight. One who is strong, big, and wears suits. Men in formal clothing do it for me. I guess it’s the sense of tradition, stability, and establishment they exude that makes me feel safe.
I finally found one that matches my needs.
Harry Styles.
My pussy throbs in approval when I look at his profile picture. My ovaries grow warm with the need to carry his babies.
Harry’s face is a wet dream. He has thick brown eyebrows. He’s also incredibly large with solid hands and thick muscular legs and biceps. He's also tall at 6’2. His face is chiseled and angular—masculine enough to convince me that he’d make a great dom. While his eyes are forest green, his mouth is pink and warm, framed by a soft beard that I already want to caress. The contrast between his hard eyes and soft expression intrigues me.
Harry’s profile claims that he’s a wolf shifter, which is also called werewolf. I scroll to see his secondary gender designation, but that column is blank.
My heartbeat picks up. It’s unusual for people to not disclose their secondary gender on an app like this since so many matches are made based on mutual needs.
He’s probably not an alpha though. Alphas are proud and have a superiority complex because of how much influence they exert over society. They take every opportunity to let people know that they are alphas.
Trust me, I know. My guardian is an alpha.
Harry is probably a shy beta, or an omega trying to stay safe. I don’t mind being with another omega as long as he can take the lead.
I read on for his sexual preferences.
I’m a dom, but not into inflicting pain. I like to feel strong and in control. I hope my partner feels protected and safe enough to surrender to me and let me take care of them. I like DDLG roleplays and light bondage. Nothing crazy like binding, chains, and whips, but I get off on telling my partner what to do. We’ll negotiate boundaries before we play. If you’re a sub looking for a gentle dom, we’ll be a great match.
My omega instinct wails to be with Harry. He has ticked every box on my list so far. I immediately swipe right.
Attacking my cake with a spoon, I grow antsy for his reply. He probably works in a big corporation somewhere. I doubt he has time to look at his phone and reply to messages instantly.
I jump when a message floats into my inbox some minutes later.
He’s interested too.
⋆ ˚ ⊱ ✧ ⊰ ˚ ⋆
I’m burning with anticipation when I enter the hotel lobby. Harry and I agreed to meet in his suite room.
I could tell how rich he is when he casually suggested that he would rendezvous at the most expensive hotel in town. When I offered to pay half the room’s cost, he said he had the room permanently reserved in his name so he wasn’t paying anything extra to have me there.
I swallow before knocking on the door.
“I’m Y/N.” I raise my voice so he can hear me on the other side.
“Come in. The door’s open.” He responds. His deep gruff command instantly sets my nerves on fire. I want him to praise me and degrade me with that voice.
I push the door open, then after filling my lungs with air, I charge in.
My eyes immediately snag on the unmissable male figure in the room.
Harry is lounging comfortably on the huge king-sized bed. A gray suit jacket lies discarded on the sofa. He’s still wearing his waistcoat. The sleeves of his white dress shirt are unbuttoned and folded back to reveal thick veiny forearms. My pussy jerks with heat as I rake my eyes over those bulging veins, wanting those hands to hold me down. Imagining those thick digits stroking my wet heat.
“Hello, I’m Y/N.” I walk on shaky feet.
At first, I was confused about why I was so nervous and so turned on. Then his scent hits me—woody, spicy, and thick with power.
Panic swells in my blood, rushing to my brain.
He’s an alpha.
And the only alpha I’ve ever been around is my father and he was unfortunately a controlling entitled prick.
I was so happy when I met a beta woman who had lost her omega mate and she adopted me as her own daughter after I got an emancipation order. I was tired of my dad oppressing me, telling me how to dress, and making me into a powerless omega who was dependent on the whims and commands of an alpha.
And so, the moment I recognize Harry’s scent, I react without hesitation. I swivel back, even though my pussy is leaking moisture. My skin is hot, demanding an alpha’s possessive comforting touch.
I have never slept with an alpha and I have no doubt it’d be the most otherworldly and exhilarating experience of my life. Alphas have huge cocks and my feminine heat needs to be stroked and stretched.
However, I’m not ready for the consequences that will follow the mating. The guilt, the shame, and the feeling of having been used like I’m a fleshlight.
“Wait.” His words are like a leash wrapping around my neck and pulling me back. An alpha’s command has a powerful effect on an omega. They can make me do anything if they talk to me in that voice filled with authority and lust. “Don’t be afraid of me. I’m not going to hurt you.”
My body relaxes immediately, believing him. His intentions are clear and they’re comforting like a warm blanket wrapped around me.
“You never said you were an alpha.” I tense my shoulders. “I don’t sleep with alphas.”
He squints in confusion. “Aren’t you an omega?”
“So? I don’t like alphas. They’re domineering and possessive. They control me and treat me like an object. I want to be a princess, not a trophy.”
“I promise I won’t treat you like that.” He comes to his feet. Upright, I can’t ignore how tall and big Harry is. Every object in the room seems insignificant compared to his imposing silhouette. My legs itch to rush to him. My body longs to be nestled in the safety of that broad chest. Harry’s eyes soften. “Y/N, come here. Let’s talk about what’s making you anxious.”
Let’s talk.
I’m perplexed. Paralyzed by confusion. Alphas are high-handed. They don’t like discussions. They like telling you what to do.
He should have told me to stay, told me that an omega like me belongs under him, but he didn’t.
“There’s nothing to talk about. I don’t fuck alphas.”
“I’m a shifter. A werewolf.”
“An alpha werewolf.” I say sharply, emphasizing the word alpha. “I don’t trust you.”
“Then let’s work on that.”
He wants to work on it?
My head feels light. Maybe this guy isn’t an alpha after all. His personality is too well-adjusted, but one whiff of his pheromones confirms that he is indeed one.
He is pure sex appeal bottled into an olfactory sensation. His smell fuels my need to surrender. My knees are shaking. I want to collapse on the floor and have him carry me to the bed. Then I want him to tear off my clothes and thrust into my wet heat.
I shake my head. Being his cum dump might feel good in the moment, but I’ll never live down the aftermath. And what if he decides to take me by force? I don’t want to be bonded to someone I don’t love.
I exhale. Then as I brush my hair away from my neck, it reveals the mating gland situated there.
Harry’s eyes flare with heat, going pitch black as his pupils dilate to fill his irises. His breathing grows frenetic. He can’t take his eyes off the spot—the forbidden unclaimed spot that the wolf inside him is probably dying to mark.
“You can’t bite me.” I say firmly. “I don’t want to belong to any alpha until I decide he’s the one I’m marrying.”
His jaw tightens with the strain of holding himself back. “I will respect that. A woman who thinks long-term relationship is definitely wife material.”
“Let me make this clear. I’m not going to be your wife. Or your mate. Or your anything. I’m only here for a fun night and to be spoiled by a dom. You can pound my pussy and use every part of my body including my ass, but you can’t try to claim me. Understood?”
Harry’s nostrils flare. His hands are fisted around the bedsheet. An alpha doesn’t usually get challenged by an omega, much less have an omega telling him what he can’t do.
While I'm waiting for Harry’s response, I expect him to show his dominance, to tell me he can claim me wherever he wants.
“Your gland is off-limits?” His neck muscles go taut with tension as he releases a bitter laugh.
“I won’t surrender to a dom who has no self-control. That’s dangerous for me.”
“I do have self-control. I won’t do anything that either of us will regret later.” He nods in approval. “So you don’t have to worry about becoming my mate. Thank you for being honest with me.”
My whole body erupts with pride at that gesture. It’s like I want him to be pleased by my behavior, to tell me I’m smart and sensible—not a reckless omega looking to get violated. That’s what people always tell me.
Betas and alphas can indulge their sexual needs as much as they like without the threat of being claimed and impregnated, but omegas are oppressed because of their nature. And I won’t tolerate that. I also stay safe by taking my suppressants. I don’t need birth control pills. I can’t get pregnant from an alpha who hasn’t mated with me and bitten me on the neck to bind me to him forever. That’s the way omega bodies function. My womb will only carry my alpha’s seed. It’s both convenient and inconvenient since I don’t know if I’ll ever find the right alpha, but I do want to have kids of my own.
“That’s my hard boundary. I’m not looking to settle down. All I need is a hot one-night stand with a man who’ll make me come.” I tell him. “My other conditions include that you leave no marks on my body. I don’t like pain and punishment. And I want you to be loving. Don’t treat me like a possession.”
“You like feel-good sex?” He quirks his eyebrows. “So do I.”
“Good. We’re on the same page. Anything I need to know about your preferences, Harry?” I can’t fathom asking this question because it means that I’m thinking of going through with having sex with an alpha.
“I need intimacy.” Harry runs his fingers through his hair. “I can’t fuck someone just because they’re hot. I hate meaningless sex that feels emotionally empty. Even if we’re only sleeping together, my emotions must be involved. I want to feel like you really love me even though if it’s an act.”
An alpha who wants to be loved and not obeyed? Now that’s something I’ve never heard of.
Harry shocks me with every word that comes out of his mouth. He’s more than the controlling alpha stereotype. He’s deep. He cares about feelings—his own and mine. He doesn’t want to present the image of being stoic and cold so he comes off looking invulnerable. He’s dominant, but not addicted to having authority. It must be because he’s so successful in his career. He has so much control over the external world. And unlike my father, he’s not trying to feel masculine by treating women like slaves.
“Okay, I can do that. I’m good at roleplaying.” I nod. “But if you do something I’m uncomfortable with, or I want you to stroke my hair and call me nicknames, I’ll speak up immediately. It may make you uncomfortable, but I don’t care.”
Harry grins. “I love a feisty brat.”
I blink in surprise. “Your inner alpha doesn’t feel threatened when someone tells you what to do?”
“I take it as a suggestion rather than a command.” Harry’s cloudy green eyes watch me with interest.
My body is really sending me confused signals right now. I’m here for sex only, but cuddling with him and talking about our lives suddenly seems like a much better idea.
I shake off that useless thought. I’m not looking to date an alpha. Or get deeply involved with one.
“I think it’s good to have a partner who expresses their emotions. Why would it make me feel out of control because you have needs? I’m not interested in fucking a robot with no personality.” He continues to explain.
My chest fills with warmth. My shoulders relax. And I can’t prevent a smile from forming on my lips.
As crazy as it sounds, I like this guy. He’s an alpha, but I like him. He’s not like any of the alphas I’ve seen before. He’s not insecure. His sense of power is not fragile and is based on absolute command.
“Okay.” I should feel threatened, scared, and antsy. I should be running away and writing off this encounter as an unfortunate tragedy. But after our conversation, I want to be taken care by this gorgeous alpha. “Let’s start then.”
I unbutton my dress. Peeling the sleeves off my arms, I let the garment glide over my hips until it’s lying on the ground.
I turn around, giving him a glimpse of my juicy ass and smooth back. It’s thrilling to see how quickly the bulge in Harry’s pants grows when he takes me in. His erection is huge. My pussy is getting excited at the thought of milking that giant cock.
“You can’t seem to take your eyes off my gland.” I tease in a seductive tone. “Do you like it?”
“I know I can’t claim you, but can I touch it? Promise I won’t bite.” Harry holds up his pinky finger in a mock promise.
I find that gesture adorable and his question boyish and sweet. The innocence coupled with his deadly good looks makes for an intriguing combination. He makes me feel safe.
“You may touch.” I reply, my voice shivering. “I’ve never let anybody touch that spot.”
“I’m grateful for the honor.” Harry motions me to him. “Come sit on my lap, baby girl. Let me look at your gorgeous mating gland.”
My pussy flutters when he calls me his baby girl—not because the endearment is anything special, but because he says it with so much affection like I actually mean something to him. It’s the kind of tone I could imagine him using on his own daughter. Harry would be the type of dad who would spoil his daughters rotten. He’s the sort of man who feels good when he’s loved by the women around him. He’ll be an amazing daddy.
I can’t believe I get to be cherished by him, even for one evening.
His thumb tests the spongy circular skin of my mating gland. His breath leaves his nostrils in forceful streams, hitting my neck like gusts of wind. He traces the shape of my gland using delicate light touches. I’m already grinding into his thick erection. My pussy throbbing from the friction between our sexual organs.
“So beautiful.” Harry’s voice shivers with need. He presses a kiss on my gland, licking circles around my sacred bonding spot. His tongue dips, painting a wet trail from my neck to my spine. We’re flirting with danger here. His mouth is already on my gland. Any second, he could decide to sink his teeth into me and forcefully claim me as his omega. But I know he won’t. He licks me a few more times then moves his head away. “Your body is soft and delicious.”
“Do you want to claim me?” I inquire, still on edge.
“Of course I do.” He replies with a desperate growl. “I’m an alpha. The wolf inside me wants to claim you, pin you down, and stuff your stomach with my pups.”
My eyes widen, panic edging between my ribcage. I twitch, coming off his lap and onto my feet, moving myself away from the masculine intoxicating presence of Harry Styles.
I look around, wondering how to escape this place and this man who has hypnotized me with his gentle voice. But my body refuses to move. It doesn’t want to run.
My wet heat wants to take Harry’s cock and grow his children in my womb. My blood shivers with the need to have my belly swollen with pups. The ache in my pussy intensifies at the image of Harry stroking my pregnant stomach and kissing it. I’m flabbergasted.
I’ve never wanted to have any man’s babies before. Is this the primal instinct of an omega when faced with the potent scent of an alpha? Or is it something else?
Before I can move, Harry’s fingers snake around my wrist. “Did I scare you, baby girl? I’m sorry. I can’t hide my feelings. But my word is binding. Trust me, I won’t claim you.”
He pulls me to his chest and caresses my hair, whispering to me that it’s alright to trust him. That he won’t ever hurt me.
I wish I could believe him, but I can’t. What I do believe in is my ability to hate alphas. But my body is melting with his warm touch.
Before long, the suspicious thoughts in my head have been replaced by blissful ones. Harry spreads me out on the bed and takes his time relishing every part of my body. He caresses the shell of my ear. The roughness of his thumb pad provides a delicious texture against my soft skin.
“So pretty. My baby girl is so gorgeous.” He whispers.
My pussy responds immediately, releasing a stream of moisture. His voice isn’t sexy or flirty, just loving and full of admiration. And that kind of loving compliment sets my core on fire. I never imagined I’d be the kind of girl to respond to sweet affectionate lovemaking. I guess my new Daddy is teaching me all kinds of things about myself.
I writhe under his expert care, swimming in an ocean of warm elation as his fingers travel down my breasts, circling my areolas.
“Daddy, that feels so good...” I mumble when he latches onto my hard nipple and pleasures it with his tongue. He strokes my thick bud with the wet tip, inciting heatwaves in my core.
Harry squeezes my other breast, dragging his thumb along the underside. “You have huge boobs. Daddy loves suckling on them and playing with them.”
I love it too. He does something magical to me every time he touches me. Even though his fingers and tongue brush me gently, his control is a silent force behind him. He knows exactly what he’s doing. And I love that fact.
“I’m an omega.” I remind him. “My boobs are bigger than average.”
“Your body is so lush and fertile too.” Harry’s reverent tone matches the delicate brushes of his fingertips against my hips. “Daddy loves a baby girl who is ripe with need for his cock.”
Heaviness is building up between my thighs. The dark sensation is somewhere between an impending orgasm and an all-out physiological takeover of my mind by a strong alpha. My body feels dense. His every finger stroke seeps into my bloodstream, making my blood feel thick with his claim.
“You’re so good at foreplay.” I say. It’s a real compliment. Men rarely pay this much attention to turning me on when I’m already leaking like a faucet. “I’m gushing.”
“I need you even wetter.” Harry bites his lip. “My cock is not the average size.”
There it is. The alpha in him asserts its superiority.
I chortle. “We’ll see.”
Harry climbs on top of me. His weight makes me feel small and vulnerable. I’d never admit it out loud, but having a big bad alpha mount me like this exhilarates my senses. I want him to stake his dominance over me.
His lips flit over my neck, sucking the tender skin at the juncture of my shoulders. My back arches off the bed.
“That…” I pant. “That felt powerful.”
I never knew I was so sensitive there. Nobody has played with that spot before.
“Daddy’s going to make his baby girl tremble with pleasure.” Harry flashes his perfect teeth and continues sucking at my flesh. “I hope you don’t have any plans for the rest of the evening because this is going to take all night.”
“I’m all yours, Daddy.” The words flow so naturally from my lips. It’s not an act, not part of the play. It’s what I’m feeling. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Y/N. I want to take care of you properly. Buy you flowers every day and pleasure you until you’re dizzy.”
My inner romantic sighs at his words. I wish I could be with the kind of man who would buy me flowers and romance me every day, but that’s just a fantasy for an omega stuck in a world full of entitled alphas who believe in control rather than wooing.
“I’d love that.” I lie, even though we’ll never see each other again. “I love being spoiled with thoughtful gifts.”
“I’ll spoil you rotten, baby girl.” His heavy-lidded gaze is drenched with underlying meaning that I’m too scared to intuit. The boundaries between fantasy and reality are so blurred when I’m with him. I want this to be real, but I’m scared of the consequences of a reality that involves me dating an alpha. “You’ll never doubt how much I love you.”
I moan when his lips crush mine. The kiss only intensifies my developing feelings for him. I’ve never considered having a Daddy who spoils me outside the bed, but Harry is triggering something deep within me that demands to have a real connection.
I feel like I’m in a spa. My body is buoyed by a sense of relief and safety. I’m in good hands. At no point do I feel unsafe or uncomfortable. Harry has great intuition about what parts of me need and how much pressure.
“I want to spend hours licking and stroking your soft skin. I want to discover the parts of you that have been neglected.” His tongue glides up my inner thigh, setting off a slow burn in my groin.
I’m so close to coming and he hasn’t even put his fingers or mouth anywhere near my pussy yet.
I cry at his gentleness. I know I chose to have steamy sex-only encounters with random men, but I miss being cared for. Someone who wants to know my body inside out and spend countless days finding out my sweet spots is so much more than a fuck buddy. I never thought I needed someone like that.
Tears of pure ecstasy roll down my cheeks when Harry’s tongue finds its way into my wet folds. He sucks on my clit. Hot currents of bliss thrash inside me. Whenever he stimulates my pleasure center, a symphony of aches builds up between my legs.
“I’m going to come…” I cry. I’m both embarrassed at coming so fast and shocked.
“Call Daddy’s name when you feel good.” Harry’s deep voice vibrates against my aroused pussy, heightening the fever in my channel.
He wriggles his tongue into my empty hole, filling it with a pale imitation of his hardness. Nevertheless, my walls clench around his tongue, reaching for a higher peak. The dance of his tongue against my feminine lips continues until I’m broken and sobbing from the need to come.
Harry senses I’m close to the edge too.
He sniffs my wet sex. Wolf shifters have supernaturally strong senses so I’m sure he can smell the wetness oozing from my pussy. I want to hide how much I love him commanding me in a sexual sense, but I’m just too turned on right now.
Just when I need the final nudge from his tongue to push me past my limits, Harry removes his mouth, leaving me in a hornet’s nest of frustration.
“I’m close, Daddy.” I whine.
“You’re not allowed to come until Daddy’s cock is inside you.” Harry presses my wrists into the mattress with his hands. “I want to feel your pleasure contracting around me.”
Before I can question him, he drops his pants and quickly rips his shift and waistcoat off his body. He’s completely naked now.
My pussy cramps with greater desire when I become aware of his powerful body. You’d think he was a Greek God from the perfect formation of his torso. The two cuts of muscle that dip into his hips fan my lust.
But it’s his cock that takes my breath away. It’s so thick and huge. I’ve seen cocks before. A lot of them actually. But none like this.
I guess this is why he’s an alpha. I know an omega’s body is also much curvier than other women and he has probably never seen boobs the size of mine.
“It is big.” A hint of panic rears its head, but Harry hushes it with a soothing press of his palm against my wet entrance.
“Don’t worry. I prepared you well. It won’t hurt.” He reassures me. His understanding of my fears makes our intimacy feel layered and deep. Harry positions his cock at my entrance. I can tell he’s excited to penetrate me. “Will you be a good baby girl for your Daddy and take his cock?”
“Yes.” I’m breathless with anticipation. After that orgasm, my pussy is open with relaxation. I need a little roughness now to offset the sweetness from before. “Give it to me hard, Daddy.”
I scream when he enters me, breaching my tightness with incredible strength. I feel his intrusion ringing in my bones, setting my cells on fire. I’ve been altered in some fundamental way by his penetration even though my mind can’t grasp how.
Our joining feels like a primordial awakening. An event as old as time itself. The profoundness of our mating terrifies me.
“This feeling... oh my God.” I trail off as he thrusts deeper into me, making my body shake with the immense waves of pleasure inundating my blood.
My whole self goes numb as an orgasm spreads through me. It’s like a flower blooming in my core and spreading its sweet scent to the rest of my body.
“We’re mating, baby girl. This is how it always feels.” Harry’s locks of hair vibrate every time he thrusts into me. His forehead is slicked with sweat and his dark brown strands are wet with the proof of his exertion.
“Mating?” My confused words swim in the air as my body surrenders to an undoing like no other. “But you haven’t touched my gland.”
“I don’t have to.” Harry breathes out a stream of breath over my stimulated nipple. “Your body already knows it’s mine even if I never mark it with my teeth.”
The words make no sense, but the truth in them twists its way into my subconscious. I can’t explain what I’m experiencing, but I can’t deny that it feels like bonding with an alpha. Mere words can’t describe the rightness of our union like it was destined to happen. Like it has already happened for lifetimes.
I do believe in soulmates, but I didn’t think a one night stand could make my soul weep with longing over nothing more than another brush of his cock against my walls.
But this doesn't feel like just a physical coupling. This isn’t just sex.
Harry’s right. It’s two mates coming together and vowing silently to be together forever.
I make a promise without knowing I’m making one.
My pussy swallows his cock. Pangs of pleasure cramp my belly at every intimate contact with his cock. I’m already in the throes of a climax. How does it keep getting better? Why does my body feel more and more like it’s becoming his?
“Are you ready to be drenched in cum, baby girl?” Harry’s grin makes him look like an evil villain in a paranormal show.
I want to be part of his evil plot. “Yes, Daddy.”
Harry pushes into me one final time. Then he releases all his pent-up desire. Warm sticky release coats my insides and begins trickling from my seam.
I revel in the glorious sensation of feeling completely lost in someone else’s arms. Of becoming an alpha’s cum dump. I’m lucky that I’m an unmated omega because I can feel his cum slicking my pussy without worrying about consequences.
“That was beautiful. Transcendent.” Harry’s airy words wash over my face. “You were brilliant, Y/N. I love you so much. You are so perfect.”
Each successive compliment boosts my heart, making my chest swell. I feel good, not used. I feel appreciated, not appraised.
As the haze of bliss settles on me, my heart flutters with contentment. I’ve never had this kind of sex before. I felt wooed, loved, and taken care of. Is this why omegas fall head over heels in love with alphas? Because they know how to give us what we want?
I enjoy my orgasm until the very last moment when it all disappears into a puff of heavenly smoke. Harry’s still on top of me, watching me with a mysterious expression.
I place my palm over my chest, feeling my elevated heartbeat. “I feel like I’ve been to heaven and back.”
“That was only round one.” He replies, quirking his lips in an amused smile. “Will you sleep here tonight?”
There’s a vulnerability in his voice—a hint of his real feelings emerging through the alpha mask.
I can’t refuse. It’d break my heart to refuse him. I can’t understand why I have so much empathy and compassion for him, even though he’s an alpha.
But he’s not using his influence to make me obey. He’s just asking me.
I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, facing him coyly. “Sure.”
“We can order room service if you’d like. We’ll fill your belly before we continue.” Harry reaches for the phone on the nightstand. “Aren’t you hungry?”
My stomach growls. I giggle. “A midnight meal sounds good.”
─ ⋅ ⋅ ── ❈ ── ⋅ ⋅ ─
» HARRY «
“You found your mate?” Tom—my secretary and best friend, also a wolf shifter—screws one black eyebrow upward. The silent judgment and the not-so-silent curiosity prickle my skin. “Can I see her picture?”
I growl. “Hell, no”
Tom’s body shivers with a deep laugh. “I see you’re getting possessive already, but what’s the point? She doesn’t even know she’s your mate. She could be scrolling the app now for another hookup, or having a sexy time with another man...”
The roar that rushes out of my throat is so loud and feral that even Tom flinches. He’s a beta so my aggression affects him badly. His shoulders tense like he’s ready to flee.
“Sorry.” I make an effort to reign in my primal rage at the thought of my mate being pounded by another alpha. “I drive myself crazy by imagining doom and gloom scenarios already so don’t make it worse. I’m starting to feel insecure and that’s not a feeling I’m familiar with as an alpha.”
“Okay, Alpha.” Tom rolls his eyes. “Then why don’t you contact her again and tell her you want her? Isn’t that what alphas are good at? Forcing people to listen to them?”
“I’m not an idiot, Tom.” I press my fingers on my throbbing temples. “I’ve lived for thirty seven years. Women hate being told that the reason I’m pursuing them is because their pheromones do it for me. They want to feel desired for their personality, not their biology.”
Tom throws up his arms in resignation. “Well, don’t come crying to me if she hooks up with another tough alpha and decides she’s going to marry him.”
“She isn’t going to marry anyone she doesn’t like and she definitely hates alphas.” I inform him. “She said it herself.”
“An omega who doesn’t want to be shackled?” Tom applauds as he approves. “You caught yourself a fiery one.”
I wonder why my chest warms when he calls my woman fiery. I love a challenge and Y/N is going to be a lifelong challenge. I can tell.
Fated bonds are mostly a compelling biological impetus, but my rational mind is equally captivated by my mate. My heart is growing feelings for her that have nothing to do with her ability to turn my cock into a hard pole.
It can’t be easy for an omega to be as empowered as she is. I want to know her past. I want to understand her present. Most of all, I want to find out who hurt her and made her afraid to trust alphas. Then I will destroy him.
“Honestly, I don’t care for marriage.” I open the door to my office, keeping it open so Tom can follow me in. “As long as I can be by her side, I don’t need anyone’s approval. You know mating bonds are much more powerful than any document.”
I couldn’t tell Y/N that she was my mate. She was so spooked by me being an alpha that I couldn’t bring it up without destroying the fragile trust we had built with each other. Not that it would matter to her. I’m a fuck buddy to her. Not even that. She said she never wanted to see me again. Which makes me a one night stand.
God, wondering if she hates me is driving me nuts.
But there’s one thing I remember. That is the way her eyes turned misty with happiness when I said I’d buy her flowers every day. She might act like she’s cynical, but deep inside Y/N wants romance as much as anybody else. She must have been hurt deeply by an alpha to believe she’d never find it.
If I have to win her trust, the first thing I need to do is to help her trust alphas again, to make her see that we’re not all domineering oppressors. She probably had her safety and boundaries violated before and I have to assure her that it will never happen again if she trusts me.
I quickly type a message to her. I’m relieved she hasn’t deleted our chat from before.
Harry: I know we agreed to never have sex again, but is it okay if I send you flowers? Just this once. You were such a good baby girl. I want to give you a gift to show how much I appreciated you last night. Consider it the last time you get spoiled by your Daddy.
“Hey, Tom, can you order me some roses?” I’m already instructing my secretary even though Y/N hasn’t replied to my text, but I know she will give in. She desires real love. She wants to be treated like she’s special and precious, not just another omega body to be bred.
“Sending them to your girl?” Tom asks.
“That’s right.” I grin. “It’s time I started wooing her seriously before my wolf kills me.”
─ ⋅ ⋅ ── ❈ ── ⋅ ⋅ ─
» Y/N «
Oh my God, what have I gotten myself into?
I can tell Harry is attached to me. He said he wanted to send me flowers because I made him so happy yesterday. I should have reminded him of our agreement to forget everything, but I texted him my business PO box instead. It won’t be difficult for someone like him to track me down if he puts his mind to it.
I bite my nails. Panic is spreading through my bloodstream.
Shit. What am I going to do if he finds me? If he forces his way into my apartment and makes me obey him with that sexy commanding voice?
Nervous, I check Omega Love Finder, determined to delete my message. But he has already seen it. Not only that, he has replied to it with a heart emoji.
I’m used to guys who would ghost me once they’ve had my body or demand I sleep with them again. I can’t comprehend why a sexy alpha with so much wealth and power would want to send me flowers because I gripped him well with my pussy. Isn’t that just a given for an omega?
Y/N: I hope you understand that while I appreciate your sweet gesture, I’m not looking for more with you.
Harry: I know. I just felt like spoiling you because I’m feeling good this morning. It’s all thanks to you.
His text hits me and makes me feel energized too. Nobody has ever said that being with me made them feel good.
My heart skips a beat. I hate that an alpha made me feel this way. Harry is dangerous. He’s making me reconsider all my boundaries.
I hate alphas. If you give them a little bit of control, they’ll take everything away from you. I have learned that with my father. I won’t be making the same mistake again.
Y/N: On second thought, forget about the flowers. Delete my address. I don’t want you showing up at my place. Not that they’d let you in since it’s an alpha-safe zone.
Harry: Baby girl, don’t panic.
Y/N: This feels like a trap. Like you want more from me.
Harry: I’ll send you flowers every day for the rest of our lives without ever asking for more if it makes you uncomfortable.
I stop and stare at that sentence on my screen for a whole minute. He typed that too fast for him to have strategized it. Then why is it so heartwarming?
Unconditional love is a myth. Even my dad didn’t love me unconditionally. Every gift came with a million strings attached. He wanted me to change for him. To be who he dictated I should be in return for taking care of me.
Y/N: I’m not giving you anything in return.
Harry: I didn’t ask for anything.
Y/N: I’m not going to be nice to you or sleep with you again.
Harry: I know, baby girl. Trust me, I’m not trying to con you. Just allow me to be your Daddy. Isn’t that what you want?
My Daddy. He wants to be my Daddy even outside the bedroom. He wants to spoil me with flowers and god knows what else if I let him.
A part of me sighs with happiness. I can’t believe such men even exist. I thought their population was wiped out somewhere in the last century and all the guys now think love is about what they can get, not the simple act of giving.
I sigh, feeling like a neurotic nutcase. Am I making a mountain out of a simple offer?
Nothing is more confusing than Harry Styles trying to be a gentleman. He’s like a dream that feels too good to be true.
My defenses automatically come up whenever my autonomy is threatened, especially by an alpha. Even though my instincts scream to let him take control, I know how miserable that made me in the past. I can’t let him shape my identity and who I am.
Y/N: Okay. I’ll let you. This once.
Harry: Thank you. If I’m being honest, I want to wine and dine you, take you shopping, and watch the sunset with you on the beach. But I know you’ll freak out if I actually suggested it. I’m just putting it out there. In case you wanted to be treated like a baby girl. It’ll be romantic, not sexual.
You know I like feeling emotions. I have enough money that it wouldn’t have to mean anything. Think about it.
My stomach goes hollow with a mixture of adoration and concern.
Harry has every right to express his feelings and desires, especially his desire to treat me well. The way he words his messages doesn’t feel pushy. He’s giving me a choice. He’s leaving the final decision in my hands. In the hands of an omega.
Omegas weren’t born to make decisions. Leave that up to an alpha, Y/N. My father’s often-spoken statement rings in my ears, bringing me back to reality.
No matter how nice Harry might be, on the inside he’s like every other alpha. I have to remember that. Otherwise, I’ll end up getting in trouble.
Y/N: Thank you for the kind offer, but I’m too jaded to believe that anybody would give me so much without strings attached. Like I said, I’m not looking to turn our ONS into a long-term thing.
Harry: Y/N, I know it’s hard to trust a stranger, but I want to make you believe that there are good people in the world. You deserve to experience pleasure and companionship without any obligations. So do I. So does everyone.
I’m seeing my bottom lip with my teeth again. Why is he so good at getting into my heart and saying all the right things?
I’ve distrusted alphas ever since my father tried to force me to mate with an alpha at sixteen. I ran away from home, but sometimes it feels like I’m still running away.
I’m an adult now. My father doesn’t own me. No alpha owns me.
Y/N: Keep your word and send me flowers for a week without mentioning anything more. Then I’ll consider it.
Harry’s reply is instantaneous.
Harry: Done.
⋆ ˚ ⊱ ✧ ⊰ ˚ ⋆
The first bouquet of flowers arrives on the same day. I have to sign to accept the delivery.
It’s a massive profusion of red roses. Classic. Elegant. And heartwarming. There’s also a note with the bouquet.
I don’t know what kind of flowers you like. This seemed like a safe choice. Y/N, thank you for yesterday. I haven’t felt the way I do about you in forever. And please tell me what your favorite flowers are, otherwise I’ll tear my hair out in anxiety over having made the wrong choice.
Harry x
I don’t want to text Harry too much because I know he has an important job and doesn’t need me to distract him, but the note and the fact that he says he’s anxious about miffing me with his choice of roses is too cute to pass up.
Alphas assume what you like.
No, scratch that.
They tell you what you should like.
It was always like that with my father. He chose the clothes I wore, how much makeup I could have on, what I said, and whom I talked to. Even though my dresses were modest and demure, with high necks to cover my mating gland, he’d tell me that omegas should always be obedient and wear what their alpha wants them to. That we’re here to bear children and comfort our alphas, not self-express through fashion.
I hated those clothes. I boiled in them and they made me look like a Victorian matron, doing nothing to show off the parts of me that are gorgeous and deserve to be looked at.
That’s why I wear revealing clothes now. I show my breasts because hiding them only makes it more obvious that I’m an omega.
My fingers are shivering on the phone screen. Despite having worked on my issues, I’m still kind of terrified about telling an alpha what I like, especially when it’s non-sexual.
Y/N: I got the flowers. I don’t mind roses, but I love sunflowers.
There is no response for an hour. I’m not the type of girl who waits on men. I have a life, a business, and goals. I try to work on my client’s brief and soon, I have forgotten all about Harry and our exchange.
Until my phone pings.
And my body reacts instinctively, putting everything aside to check my messages.
Harry: Thank you for telling me. I hope to find out more about your preferences in the future. Also, sunflowers suit your fiery personality so good choice.
Good choice. An alpha praised me.
Harry actually indirectly told me that my preference was good, not inferior or wrong compared to what he picked for me. I cling to that moment of praise for far too long.
What is this wolf shifter doing to me?
⋆ ˚ ⊱ ✧ ⊰ ˚ ⋆
I receive sunflowers the next day. And the day after that.
For a whole week, Harry keeps up his part of the bargain. He never pressures me to message him. He doesn’t hint that he is looking for more from me either. More commitment, more sex, or more respect. In fact, he always waits for me to message first before replying.
I love how intimate and cute our exchanges feel. I don’t feel unsafe with him because he’s far away. But even if he was standing next to me, I knew I wouldn’t be scared of him.
Y/N: It’s unfair that you know what flowers I like, but I don’t know your favorite.
Harry: Orchids.
Y/N: Expensive and rare. Suits a rich alpha like you.
Harry: Was that a compliment?
Y/N: You’re an alpha. You don’t need compliments. You have a natural superiority complex.
Harry: I need your compliments, Y/N. My inner wolf is hungry for your praise.
My heart skips a beat more and more. He’s always so sweet and genuine when he texts. And he’s that way in real life too. I know because I’ve met him.
A week passes and he doesn’t stop sending me flowers. But the part that really breaks me is that he never asks me again about going to dinner with him. He waits for me to bring it up. He trusts me to not have forgotten my stupid omega brain.
I make him miserable for another week before giving in to his charm and steadfastness.
I mean, I couldn’t resist forever, not when he has shown that he can respect my boundaries multiple times. By denying him means that I’m only denying myself something I’ve always dreamed about, which is being taken care of by someone who cherishes me.
So I was immediately on board when Harry said he wanted to wine and dine me and take me shopping.
Y/N: Hypothetically speaking, where would you wine and dine me?
Harry: Wherever you pick.
Y/N: I’ll let you pick.
Harry: What kind of food do you like?
I don’t even blink when he asks me for my preference before showing off his knowledge regarding the best restaurants in town.
I have come to expect consideration from him. And that’s dangerous.
We’re sex partners at best, and strangers at worst. What if I never find an alpha who will treat me as well as Harry? He’s ruining me for everyone else when I know I can’t have him. He’s a wolf shifter, which means he’ll only settle down with his fated mate. I’m just a temporary woman until he meets his forever love.
I’ve never envied a woman as much as I envy Harry’s future wife. Omega or not, she’ll be so well cared for by her protective husband.
After we text back and forth, he invites me to a restaurant I’ve never heard of. When I look it up online, it turns out to be an exclusive place catering to a high-end clientele. They only take reservations from people who are on their approved list. Since the establishment allows alphas, omegas, betas, and everything in between, I’m worried about an unmated alpha scenting me and trying to be aggressive.
I mean, I’m certain they have ways to prevent such incidents. They have to preserve their reputation. Plus, Harry will be with me. I don’t know why, but my body knows he’ll never let me be harmed in his presence.
The day of our so-called dinner date arrives quickly. Harry must have made time for me because he invited me out on a weekday night. Thursday night, to be specific. When we met at his hotel room last time, it was a Thursday too. I calculate that it has been almost three weeks since he first came into my life.
He has turned my world upside down in a few days and made me reconsider everything I thought I knew about alphas.
I can’t wait to peel back his layers and discover more about him. I’m usually disinterested in all men, but Harry has me intrigued—as a person though, not as a sexual partner.
Despite Harry’s vehement protests, I assured him that I’d be fine making my way to the restaurant on my own. I put on my sexiest outfit. A red body con dress with a deep neckline that shows off my perky massive boobs. I want to keep him squirming throughout.
Since the restaurant is in a crowded area, I take the subway.
There are special areas for omegas in the subway so I don’t have to worry about any unwanted attention.
I get off at the station closest to our date spot, but I’m immediately lost. Even after checking my phone, I still end up walking in circles. Worry lines dig into my forehead when I turn around and realize I’ve walked into a deserted alley.
At this time of a weekday, there are not many people here. Most of them have gone home from work. Darkness and shadows twist around the streets, broken up by a few streetlights.
My stomach cramps. At first, I dismiss it as an overreaction. However, it turns out to be a premonition.
“You smell delicious, sugar.”
I arc back at the unfamiliar voice.
It’s a man. Not a human man though. He also stinks of power and entitlement. An alpha shifter.
I quickly reach inside my purse for the pepper spray. But before my thumb forces the nozzle down, the alpha knocks it out of my hand.
“Now what do you need that for?” He’s so close to me. His rancid breath lashes against my face. “I’m going to take good care of your pretty cunt. You’ll feel so good. A tight omega cunt for my dick.”
Anxiety spikes in my chest. I try to move to pick up the fallen pepper spray, but he’s too strong. His muscles are like shackles closing around my wrists. He gains on me, pressing me against the brick wall and caging me with his limbs. I move and resist, but it’s of no use.
“You can’t do this.” I say as he tries to force a kiss on me. “I have a boyfriend. He’s an alpha.”
Harry is not my boyfriend, but alphas are always more careful around other alphas. Knowing that I have Harry is a relief.
The man who is trying to sexually assault me chuckles. “Can smell no alpha on you, sugar. When was the last time you got laid? If he can’t keep your slutty omega body satisfied, maybe it’s time you switched to someone else.”
It has been three weeks since Harry last came inside me. Alpha pheromones only linger for a day or two. I wish I had given in and slept with him last week.
“Let me go. This is illegal.” My throat swells with anger and helplessness. I ended up saying something I never thought I would. “I love my boyfriend. I’m not interested in anyone else.”
“Love?” The alpha is laughing like he has lost his sanity. “Omega bitches don’t love, sugar. They only crave alpha dick. They spread their legs for the richest and most powerful alpha who can put them in their place and put a baby in their needy wombs.”
“Omegas fall in love too.” I protest. My eyes are misting with tears. My rage is boiling over. I don’t care if I look weak and emotional. I can’t hold back all the hatred I’ve felt for alphas all these years. Alphas like this guy think they are Gods, but what they are is a disgrace. “I love him. And if you think you’re an alpha just because you’re strong, you’re just a weak man with a broken ego. A real alpha has a big heart. They’re self-controlled, generous, and protective. Not rapists.”
“Shut up—”
I recoil when he raises his hand at me. I wait for the slap to make contact with my cheek. I thought I’d forgotten it, but I still remember the sting of my father’s hand. He hit me every time I refused to go along with his plans. I used to fear him and his strength until I realized that he was even more helpless than me. He could never make me obey and he knew he could never make me love him. My mother had left him too. She was a beautiful omega who had shacked up with a richer alpha and divorced his ass.
Suddenly, I’m broken free from my thoughts by an animalistic growl. And there’s a wolf—a majestic animal with gray fur—in the alley.
Before I can wonder where it came from, it lunges at my rapist. Its claws tear off a chunk of his face as it rips his body away from mine. The man falls to the ground, bleed and bruised.
The wolf narrows its eyes at me, approaching me carefully. I’m already pasted against the wall with nowhere to run.
Is the animal going to attack me too? I know it’s a shifter, but I’m not sure how much rationality shifters retain in their animal form.
Wait. Maybe it is Harry?
Could it be him? He’s a werewolf shifter, isn’t he?
It takes all my courage to reach out and caress the animal’s fur.
“You saved me.” I say. “Thank you.”
The wolf’s ears flop down and it licks my hand, encouraging me to keep stroking its head. I think it likes being petted. I find that so adorable.
“What a good wolf.” I coo. “So handsome and strong.”
The wolf howls.
I love wolves. They’re like dogs, but fiercer. The animal’s light green eyes peer into mine. We communicate silently, forging an invisible bond. I know this wolf will remember me and I will definitely remember it.
The sound of my sexual assaulter getting up breaks our eye contact. The wolf leaves my side to slam its claws down on the man’s body.
My rapist howls in pain. He gives the wolf a dirty look. “Who are you?”
At that moment, the wolf’s form dissolves. It rearranges back into a human. I’ve never seen a man shift before, but it’s over in a flash so I don’t get to observe any details.
Then Harry’s there, standing in front of me with one foot on my rapist’s chest.
“Me? I’m the boyfriend she loves.” He replies, giving me a side-eye.
My face goes up in flames. I can’t believe he heard that. What if he thinks I meant it?
The rapist makes an inaudible noise.
“Don’t worry. I called the police.” Harry informs the other alpha. “They’ll throw your ass in prison so you won’t have to stay in this cold alley for long.”
He swivels and walks to me, placing his hands on my hips. “Y/N, I swear, I was ready to commit murder. You should have let me pick you up. You’re mine. Only my hands belong on your body.”
He bares his teeth. His eyebrows are too thick like he’s still an animal. I sense that it’s the wolf that’s talking to me. The wolf I sensed a mysterious connection with.
Harry grips me hard like he’s trying to make me stay. His touch on me is bruising, but in the best way possible. I feel owned. Roughly claimed.
I love Harry’s inner animal. His spirit wolf is intense and possessive. Despite my reservations, I fall in love with this part of him immediately. After all, animals don’t have ulterior motives, only instincts. They only attack when threatened. There’s no malice or cruelty in their hearts.
“Let’s get you away from here.” Harry scoops me up in his arms, nuzzling my face with his nose.
I’m still trembling from the aftershocks of being harassed by an alpha. “How did you know to find me here?”
“I could smell you.” Harry replies, scrunching his nose. “Your scent is strong today. I could pick up on it even though I wasn’t close.”
I sniff my underarms, wondering what he’s on about. My stomach clenches. The throbbing between my legs is growing. I’m hot.
I finally understand what the stomach cramps from earlier meant. It wasn’t a premonition. It was my body’s natural cycle staking its claim on my sexual organs.
Harry’s pupils are dilated. He senses it too.
“Shit.” His eyebrows are knitted together in distress. All the hairs on his body are standing up in response to the potent scent that’s coming from my hot pussy.
I crumple his collar between my needy fingers. “Harry, I’m going into heat.”
At a house party thrown by your roommate and best friend Harry, you have a wobbly moment and need a breather. He's quick to pull you into the bathroom to give you that, but before long, he's suggesting that you both play the harmless game. Something you agree to...
Mature Content: explicit language, spit kink, oral sex (f and m receiving), light choking & unprotected sex. For an 18+ audience only.
Word Count: 10.7k (oops — she’s a long one!)
* This is the first one shot I ever wrote in 2022. It'll always have a special place in my heart, and I'm so happy to be bringing it back! *
"Harry, who the fuck is this guy?! Have you ever met him before?!”
Over the thudding music, your voice was a shout desperately trying to reach your best friend, who thought it would be a good idea to throw a random rager – one that everyone and their mother has seemingly been invited to. There's people here that you know you both don't know, because you only have about five friends between you.
You should have known this would happen. Harry gets carried away. Give him an inch, he'll take all of the miles. You love him, though, even if you do want to wring his neck most times. Like right now.
He purses his lips and tilts his head, fingers fiddling with the multicoloured bead necklace you made him so many years ago — something that's never left its place around his neck since the day you gave him it — as he looks down at the random man. He’s slumped in a drunken and drugged up state against the front door to your shared apartment, a swarm of people partying the night away behind you.
"Not a clue, love.” Harry finally says, shrugging with an expression worn that screams mischief, “But you know what they say. A stranger is just a friend you haven't met yet!"
You can't help but roll your eyes at his blasé manner. Harry is so relaxed, and you’re so… uptight. It's been this way for as long as you’ve known him, which is so long now that you can't remember life without him.
A lot of people wonder how you’ve managed to remain as best friends considering you’re complete opposites. You’re the glass half-empty. He’s the glass half-full. You’re dressed in all black with a scowl on your face. He’s a grinning, walking rainbow. You’re chalk and cheese, but you just work.
Before you realise it, Harry is slinging his arm over your shoulder like he's done a million times before, and he’s walking you through the sardine-like hallway. You can't spot your actual friends. There are too many people and too much happening, and it’s all starting to feel a bit much for you to handle.
You slip out from under his hold, which isn’t something you do all too often. Now that you have, Harry is quick to whip around and look at you; concern contorting his perpetually happy face.
"You good?"
You shake your head, because you can't lie to him. To other people, you can smile and pretend like you’re okay, but not with Harry. It’s always been different with him. He'd also see through your bullshit if you tried to give him it.
The sound of a glass smashing followed by a loud cheer startles you, your eyes bulging out of your skull from the noise and destruction being caused in your flat.
Harry looks over his shoulder to the source of the disaster, but he’s back to looking at you in an instant with a very sorry smile. You know that he's deliberating between leaving to kick out whoever it is that's making a mess of your home because they've freaked you out, and just staying to comfort you instead.
The latter is opted for, with him stepping forward and holding out his hand out for you to take. You’ve both been in this situation before. He knows what to do.
“I’ve got you.” Harry murmurs, guilt in his gaze, “I’m so sorry for all of this, babe. But I’m here. I’ve got you.”
You say nothing as you link your fingers with his, but you do smile despite feeling panicked. The touch offers that familiar comfort that you know, trust and love so much, and you’re not upset with him for throwing a party. More so yourself for not being able to enjoy it.
Harry avoids taking you further into the crowd, a smart move given your now frenzied state, and heads towards the bathroom, instead. It's the closest door, with both of your bedrooms on the other end of the hallway too out of reach for this kind of situation.
The second you’re both in and Harry closes the door behind, the noise on the other side of it dulls and you already start to feel slightly better. The blue LED lighting he installed in here also helps with that, but then again, so does just his presence.
Harry walks you over to the toilet and closes the lid, guiding you to sit on top of it. You do so with a smile, one that’s returned as he gives your hand a quick and gentle squeeze before letting go and sauntering over to the tub, where you watch him climb in fully clothed.
A small giggle bursts out from you at the sound of his denim-covered ass squeaking against the dry porcelain, which makes him roll his eyes and fight a smirk at your immature behaviour. Next, he’s leaning against the back of the tub; eyelids closing, hands linking behind his head, and he’s dramatically sighing like he’s never been more comfortable.
"You're a weirdo."
His eyes open fast at your playful dig, smile widening further and dimples deepening. You’re obsessed with his little cheek canyons, but you’re not special there. Everybody is.
"Well, that's just rude. I bring you in here, like the hero I am, and this is the thanks I get? You calling me a weirdo?”
You scoff out a laugh as you stand up, Harry's gaze felt following every movement you make over to the small window. It's cracked open a little bit already, which allows in a nice, cool breeze that you needed. You were feeling a bit too warm.
A tinge of melancholia washes over you now, your state contemplative as you stare outside. You're annoyed with yourself for being so easily startled. So quick to panic. You can't help but wonder if others feel the same.
"Don’t you ever get sick of playing the hero for me, H?" You quietly ask, turning to look at him with the back of your head resting against the tiled wall and heart feeling heavy, "You've done it for so long now. I'd be sick of me."
Harry’s brows are furrowed in confusion, as though what you’ve just said was the most ludicrous thing in the world. It wasn’t, though. It was true.
But he argues with a shake of his head, no room for negotiation, "Not a chance. It's me and you forever, babe. So no more stupid questions, or I’m not responsible for dishing out stupid answers.”
You flip him off with a smirk, actions and a facial expression that he matches with ease. That makes you laugh as you grab the carton of cigarettes you left on the window sill earlier on; one pulled out, lit up and puffed in a matter of seconds.
Indoor smoking isn't allowed, but ‘fuck the landlord’ was chanted a long time ago. There’s also a strong smell of weed coming from outside the bathroom, so clearly other's don't give a shit, either.
Harry tsks teasingly,, "Naughty, naughty. What've I told you about smoking?"
You exhale out the corner of my mouth, your cigarette pinched there and brows raise in question, "Only do it if you're doing it?"
"Atta girl. Gimme a draw."
Taking the few steps over to the bathtub, you lower yourself to sit cross-legged on the tiled floor by it. Harry's left arm lazily dangles over the edge, hand doing grabby motions that make you giggle.
You give his grinning self the cigarette, your focus on the way his already sharp jaw sharpens some more from the draw he takes. It’s passed your way again as Harry throws his head back to blow out a thick plume of smoke, eyes on the ceiling while yours are on his throat. Your own has a lump in it, one you harshly swallow away.
"We're never getting our security deposit back."
You giggle at his comment before taking another drag, his head dropping down showing you his sunshine smile as you exhale.
"Think that ship sailed when you burnt a hole in the carpet with a blunt on your birthday last year." You tease.
His focus on your lips is something you’ve noticed countless times before, but never paid much mind to. You know it’s just because he’s paying attention to what you’re saying. Harry is good like that. He really listens.
But it's happening right now, and you’re not speaking anymore.
You clear your throat, Harry snapped out of whatever daze he was in thanks to that. You offer him a curious look, the teasing moment forgotten about. You’re much too focused on what the hell that was, instead.
But he isn’t. Harry nabs the cigarette from your fingers, staring at the burning end for a second before he takes another drag.
You can tell there’s something on his mind, but you’re not the kind of person to pry. If he wanted to say, he would.
So silence surrounds you both as you pass the cigarette back and forth some more. The party still rages outside this room, but you don't find yourself caring or worrying anymore. You’re comforted and calm, even though there's a part of you that feels something else now, too.
You just can't figure out what that is yet, or why it's happening.
"Wanna play a game?"
Upon Harry’s sudden suggestion, you zone back in from zoning out, your eyes landing on his stupidly pretty fingers. With nails painted yellow by you, and chunky gold jewellery wrapped around seven out of ten, they make stubbing the cigarette out in the ashtray balanced on the side of the white porcelain tub look like the most beautiful performance.
Your lips twitch into a smirk as his question finally registers, “What are you… twelve years old?"
He sticks his tongue out at you in a petulant way, proving your point. You scoff a laugh as he slides further down the tub until the back of his neck rests on the edge of it, and he's facing you with a cheeky smile.
“D’you wanna play or not?"
"Depends on what game you had in mind."
"Truth or Dare."
You can't help but scoff another laugh as you shake your head, Harry watching with a fond look in his eyes as you do. You hate your laugh, but he has a way of making it come out in a way that you don't despise.
"You really are twelve, but sure. I'll play. I act as infantile as you, so why not?"
"You know the rules." He smirks, "Can't pick truth twice in a row. It's a cop out."
You give him a deadpan look and go to call him out for the playful jibe, but the sound of a banging on the door interrupts.
"Fuck off, it's occupied!" Harry shouts out abruptly, the sound of dull mumbling and groaning on the other side of the door quick to follow.
That has you giggling and him grinning. His eyes do a slow up and down dance across the entirety of you before locking with your own.
"So… where were we?” He ponders, lips pursing in thought before they're stretched into another brilliant smile, “Oh yeah, the rules. You got it?"
You finally throw him that deadpan look. "H, we've been playing this game on and off for years. I think I know by now."
"Just checking." Harry shrugs, hands raised in defence, “Okay, ladies first. Truth or Dare?"
You know that he expects you to pick truth. Everybody expects it whenever you play, and for good reason. You always pick it.
It's why Harry brought up the rule. You're the shy one, but that's usually because even around all of your other friends, you don't feel fully comfortable.
But it's just you and Harry now. He makes you feel that and more. You’re safe with him.
"Dare."
At that, Harry's eyebrows raise, "Oo, somebody's bold."
You scowl at him playfully, something he laughs at before his gaze wanders the room and lands on something. His face lights up. Inspiration has struck.
"Okay, I dare you to eat the rest of the toothpaste in that tube."
Following his vision, you find the almost finished tube he speaks of lying beside the pot holding your toothbrushes. Any fuller and you'd have said no, not really fancying stomach problems from all the fluoride. But this you can manage.
You stare at him teasingly unimpressed, "Toothpaste? Really? That's the best you can do?"
"Listen, darling, I'm working with what I've got." Harry laughs, nudging his chin toward the tube, "Now go on. Eat!"
Rolling your eyes, you push up to stand and walk towards the toothpaste tube on the countertop. You grab and get to it, the rest of its contents squeezed into your mouth from a height, your tongue out to catch the minty cream. You can feel Harry watching, no doubt with a proud smile that you're doing his dare with a bit of flare.
With a mouth full of toothpaste now closed and stretched into a grin, you glance back his way, finding him indeed watching, but his proud smile is nowhere to be seen.
Instead, you watch as he runs his tongue across his plump bottom lip before he's tugging it behind his two front teeth, his eyes glazed over and black.
The colour change could be from the lighting, but you know you're kidding yourself thinking that. They didn't look that shade before you stood up, and they definitely weren't looking at you with such hunger, either.
You swallow the contents with a hard gulp, bringing a thumb up to clean away a bit of paste at the corner of your mouth. For some reason, you can't look away from Harry as you do it. This new expression of his, one you've never witnessed before... it’s got you in a trance.
Silence swarms you both, a buzz in the air that didn't exist before. You can't place why there is, why it's here, but it makes you feel more comfortable. You feel safer than ever.
"Ta-dah!" You sing out, cracking the silence while waving the empty tube in victory.
Your words break Harry out of whatever daze he seemed to have found himself in yet again. His gaze flits from your mouth to your eyes, a half-smile appearing.
You bow, he claps, and then you're back to the tub and sitting yourself on the edge of it this time, looking down at him looking up at you. That new, wild look is still in his eyes.
What’s caused the change is something you need to know. You wish you could be direct and just ask him, but that's not your style.
But maybe it's time to give your brain a break from all the overthinking and overworking it does by being upfront. By asking questions.
You're comfortable. Safe. The cause of such feelings are the few drinks you've had tonight, the comforting blue bathroom lighting and Harry. Most of all, it's thanks to him. Even if he's looking at you in a way that says anything but comfort.
"What?" You ask, voice barely a whisper.
You wanted to sound a lot more confident, and you also wanted to say more than one vague word. But then again, Harry knows you so well. He knows what you meant.
A small smirk appears on his lips again, the dark shade of his eyes yet to falter as he shakes his head slowly, "Nothing."
That's the first lie Harry’s ever told you. There's definitely something.
Looking at him with squinted eyes that silently calls bullshit, his answer lingers in the air, but you're willing to brush it off. If he wanted to tell you, he would. Moving on from it will just have to suffice. He knows you won't press for more, so he's off the hook.
"Okay, my turn." You mutter, "Truth or Dare, H?"
"Dare."
You knew that was coming, your eyes quick to roam around the bathroom, looking for inspiration. You can feel him watching you. Grinning at you. You're smiling now, too.
Your sights land on the shower head hanging up high in front of him and behind you. A lightbulb goes off in your mind, your grin back to pointing his way.
“Sit in the tub fully clothed while I turn the shower on."
"And you judged me for picking toothpaste?" He taunts, "At least your breath is smelling nice now."
Your mouth drops in faux offence, "Shut up and do it. You need a wash."
He flips you off, giggles pouring from you as you shift to stand. The water is turned on before he can think twice, sputtering to life and shutting his smug self up. Sort of.
"Fuck! Shit! That's so cold!"
His gasped words and fight for breath makes you laugh even more. You hadn’t forgotten how freezing cold the water is before it finally reaches the perfect temperature.
A quick-to-soak Harry seems to realise what you’re in the know of too, his glare betrayed by his grin and giggles, “You're a little fucking witch!"
"You love it really."
At that, his laughter softens and that unfamiliar look crosses his face again. He brings a hand up to wipe the water from his face before he brushes his hair back, all of him now completely drenched.
The water hitting him and the tub is all that can be heard now. There’s no sound of the party anymore.
It's just the pair of you, like you’re the only two people in the world. It always feels like that when it's just you and him.
From the way Harry looks at you again, he seems to think that, too. And it looks like he likes that.
You know you do.
Swallowing hard, you fidget with the hem of your dress, feeling nervous again, "It's your turn to ask me."
Harry smirks once more, an expression of surprise on his face despite the cocky curve of his lips. You’re always quick to end the game. The fact that you’re pressing to play on… that’s new to him. Much like the way he looks at you is new to you.
"Truth or Dare?"
You could easily pick the former since you chose the latter last time, but you’re a little anxious of what he might ask you. You don't have any answers to anything right now.
"Dare."
"Get in the tub with me."
You were quick with your answer, and Harry was quick with his suggestion, but neither of you were as quick as your movements now. There’s no hesitation from you to do as you’ve been dared; another unusual thing for you. You always take a minute to think, or, more accurately, overthink.
Stepping into the tub and under the stream, the water soaks you; sticking your t-shirt dress to you like a second skin as it makes your hair hang heavy in front of your face. You’re both laughing as Harry creates some more space for you by sitting himself up straight.
With his knees popped some more, you lower yourself to the floor and sit facing him cross-legged, your legs narrowly avoiding one another. It's uncomfortable, though.
"Not like that, silly. Put your legs over mine." Harry speaks softly, patting the small space by his hips, "Feet here."
You nod and do as he says, shimmying forward. Your ass now squeaks against the tub, and you’re both laughing louder as you get yourself situated.
Once your feet are planted where he instructed, the sight of one of his hands coming close to your face catches you off guard. Harry hovers by it briefly before reaching to tuck your hair behind my ear; your face no longer hidden, and his bright eyes on full display again.
"There." He murmurs, pulling his hand back after lingering for a moment or two, "Much better."
You find yourself mesmerised not only by his words and touch, but by him. By the droplets running down his face and off of his chiselled jawline. By his eyelashes that are damp and stuck together. By his sopping wet curls chaotically hanging over his forehead.
Harry really is beautiful. It's no wonder that everybody loves him.
The near proximity you’re both in makes you feel nervous, and you don’t know why. But you give yourself a mental head shake, desperate to rid the anxiety you feel and trance you’re under. You’re spiralling, and you shouldn’t be. There’s no reason to.
"Truth or Dare?" You ask, moving the game along.
"Truth."
His reply was quick. Determined. Serious. No theatrics.
And it’s also caught you completely off guard, but something about it is very telling. Like choosing truth is his way of getting you to say, or ask, what you failed to earlier.
So you will.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
Harry's brows furrow, his expression puzzled, "Like what?"
You tilt your head, letting your gaze flit over his face for a moment while pondering how to word what you’re thinking and what his gaze looks like to you.
It comes to you pretty fast, and makes you feel more nervous than ever; a hard swallow following your findings.
"Like you love me."
As you watch Harry's face relax into that familiar smile that you know and love, you also pay witness to his eyes shining brighter than ever. All confusion is gone in him, and stronger than ever in you.
"Because I do."
There’s nothing but truth and conviction in his tone. You know Harry loves you, because he's told you enough times. He’s your best friend for fuck sake, of course he loves you.
But that look he's been giving you, the one he still gives you right now… it’s more than that. So you shake your head dismissively.
"No, that's not it."
"I dunno what else to tell you, babe. That's my answer.” He shrugs, nudging his chin your way, “Truth or Dare?"
That's the second lie Harry has ever told you. You can't stop yourself from growing a little annoyed, as well as more anxious, at his flippant answer and the need to move past it so quickly.
You huff out a sigh, willing to go on even if you’re frustrated, "Dare."
"Kiss me."
Your heart drops to your stomach at the sound of those two words, "Excuse me?!"
"You heard me.” Harry counters quickly,, leaning forward some more with his elbows now resting on the edge of the tub. Water hits your shoulders and sprays onto him, his smile gleaming. His aura bold, “Kiss me."
A nervous laugh leaves your lips, "Friends don't kiss, H.”
His grin widens as he inches closer again. You can smell his cologne, tobacco and vanilla, and it's sending you into a frenzy.
He doesn't look phased by your statement. Instead, Harry roams his gaze over your face, landing on your lips briefly before finding your eyes again, that new but fast-becoming-familiar look in his own more intense. Captivating. Magnetic.
"What if I told you I don't wanna be just friends anymore?"
Your whole body runs hot and cold from his calm confession. There's a swarm of butterflies in your stomach that shouldn't be caused by just a friend. Your best friend. That’s all he's ever been to you, and all you thought he ever would be.
But really, if you’re being totally honest with yourself, to you, Harry has been more than just your best friend for a while.
There have been moments where jealousy has twisted your stomach seeing him kiss his short-lived lovers. Times of tossing and turning where you wished he was in bed next to you, cuddling you to his chest while you chatted. Occasions of pining where you’d both see couples in the street walk hand-in-hand, and you felt tempted to reach out and take Harry’s in yours.
You’ve never made any moves. Never hinted toward having a crush on him. Never really admitted it to yourself, until now.
The fear of things fucking up between you if you took things further, or even opened up about how you felt, was too much to even entertain the idea, so you’d brushed it away. Having Harry in your life as your best friend was better than not having him at all.
And you didn’t think he’d ever feel the same way about you, but now, upon his questioned confession, that’s changed. Everything has, and you want to be as bold as he is about it. To dive in head first. To indulge in the inklings that have been brewing for years. To give yourself over to him in a whole new way.
So you will.
"What if I said I felt the same?" You whisper, sounding nowhere near as confident as Harry did, but that’s standard. He's always been a butterfly. You’ve always been a caterpillar.
You know he sees you as you see him, though. It’s even written all over his beautiful face right now.
Harry inches forward once again, his smile wider than ever so close to your own, "Then I'd say show me exactly what friends aren't supposed to do.”
Unlike so many occasions where you take pause to think of your next move, that's not happening now. It can’t. You’ve paused for too long when it comes to him.
So you push your own head forward, two pairs of smiling mouths so close to meeting that your breaths have struck up a dance. Yours shaky and nervous. Harry's collected and strong.
The tension right now… you need it to snap. You just know it's going to feel so good when it does.
You’re proven right the moment your lips softly connect. Euphoria runs through every inch of your body, a feeling you revel in. One you didn’t think could exist between you and your best friend, but it’s chaos and calm and you already can’t get enough.
Your mouths move in perfect synchronicity, slight trepidation to the embrace like you’d expect from two people kissing for the first time. It’s sweet and wholesome, though, even if the pulse between your thighs and small throaty moan have very different emotions behind them.
Harry breaks the kiss apart, resting his forehead against yours, “You can't be making noises like that, love."
"Why not?" You ask, eyes opening to find his still closed and a smile of contentment on his now glossy lips.
"Because I'll never want you to make any other."
Harry pulls back and gives you his gaze, his pupils now entirely blown out, and you’re hit with understanding of what that look from before meant. Means. You've finally pieced it all together.
It's lust.
He runs his tongue across his lower lip before you’re given another smirk. It's dangerous and divine, and your body reacts to it further in the form of hitched breaths, more butterflies, and a throbbing pussy. You’re falling apart already and all you’ve done is kiss. Maybe that’s all you’ll both do…
But you want to go further, and you can tell Harry does, too. It’s crystal clear. You just need to let him know how you feel in case he doesn’t already know.
"Sounds good to me." You murmur, at peace with your decision. You crave more. Crave him.
Harry seems to agree too, because now it's him that closes the gap between you both. Your lips piece together seamlessly again, starting off sweet and slow like the first one, but it’s quick to transition into anything but that.
You’re both moving messily. Maniacally. The feeling of his tongue lapping itself around yours lets you taste the cigarette you just shared, and the tequila he's been swigging all night. Your body arches into him, hands knotting in his hair tugging at his soaked locks.
Harry groans, the sound guttural and gorgeous. It makes you understand what he meant about only wanting to hear one sound from you, because the noise he just made… it was heavenly. It’s the only one you ever want to hear him make now.
"Harder." He mumbles against your lips, his pleading command doing nothing but make more arousal pool in your panties.
You do as he says, yanking harder. Another gorgeous groan given from him as he cups your face, hands tilting your head back to deepen the kiss. He’s taking full control, which is more than fine by you. You want him to have every bit of you, however he wants it.
The air is hot from the water still pouring as much as it is from the embrace. You smooth your hands away from their hold in Harry's hair to the collar of his rainbow striped t-shirt, grinning against his mouth when he shivers from your touch.
Pulling at it in a silent request for him to take it off makes him laugh through his nose, his hands leaving your face to give you what you want. He stops the kiss to rid the material, the temperature heating up further with the rugged breaths you both make through your separated, swollen lips ghosting one anothers.
Laughter pours too, because Harry struggles to peel his top off. The material is completely drenched and stuck to his skin, but when he frees himself from the fabric and throws it onto the bathroom floor, the laughter fades out fast. Silence swallows you both up comfortably. Nervously. Excitedly.
He cradles your jaw again, gaze darting between your own drinking you in. You nestle into his palm and do the same, absorbing every detail of him.
The strands of wet hair that have fallen over his face and how they’re already starting to adorably curl. His lips plumper than usual from all of the kissing. His stuck-together lashes framing his pretty eyes blinking more frequently, like he’s dazed and can’t believe what’s happening.
Looking down at his torso all naked and on full display, you feel blessed. You’ve seen Harry shirtless a million times, although none quite like right now.
In the blue hue you’re surrounded by, his tattoos pop and look blacker than ever. You get lost looking at his prominent collarbones, subtle pecs, and toned stomach that looks so soft and sweet in his seated position.
And you also fall victim to following the happy trail of sparse hair beneath his belly button that disappears into the waistband of his jeans, a blush on your cheeks as you glance briefly at the hardness confined within them.
"You're so fucking beautiful."
Harry’s mumbled words pull your eyes up, finding him lost in a trance caused by you. Your cheeks that he strokes with his thumbs are rosy red from his compliment, your hands running up his ribs as you give him a dizzy smile.
"Right back atcha, Styles."
He grins and laughs lightly before catching your lips with his again, the kiss picking up where you left off. The pulse between your thighs grows with every swirl of your tongues, every line he gently traces over your cheeks, every soft moan emanating from him.
Your mind spins in the most amazing way, and that only accelerates further when Harry breaks away from your lips to sloppily and hungrily make his way along the jawline he holds, going down to the space beneath your ear. His lips feel incredible, small sparks left behind when he ventures onto your neck and to the hollow of your throat.
Your hands knit in his hair even tighter than before, your moans hitting the air unabashedly. If his mouth feels as magical as this, you’re equal parts nervous and excited to find out how good other parts of him feel, too.
Pressing one more kiss, he now pulls back with a smirk, "So… what else don't friends do?"
He's putting the ball in your court right now, and you know why. Harry, the forever gentleman, is living up to that name. He's making sure you’re comfortable, that you know you’ve got the power here, even if he has the physical upperhand. He wants you to speak your mind now more than ever.
Screwing your mouth to the side in faux thought lasts for a second before you give him a dazzling smile and a shrug, "Friends don't go down on one another."
At that, his brows raise and smile deepens, "They sure as shit don't."
He wastes no time in pressing his lips to yours again, the pair of you simultaneously scooting back until you’re leaning against the edge of the tub behind you; the pouring water ahead.
On his knees between your spread legs, your fingers tangled up in his hair fall from place as he pulls back to sit on his ankles. Harry grins, the stream of water behind him hitting off his broad back and trickling down his front; your eyes shamelessly on the droplets that run down his torso and pool at the hem of his low waist jeans.
Your gaze doesn't stop where the water does, though. With his jeans drenched and clung to him, and the fact they were already slim fitting, the outline of his large, thick cock strains against the material more visible than ever.
You know Harry is well endowed having heard it enough times from many of his conquests. He's always been casual about it, which only confirms the fact he's got a big dick. He exudes that energy, too.
You’ve both also had more discussions than you can count about sexual experiences to know one another's most embarrassing moments, best experiences, kinks and what neither of you like.
For example, you know Harry loves eating pussy as he's talked about the power of it enough times. You say talked, but praised would be a better descriptive word.
While this is all so new and unfamiliar between you, it also feels old and familiar. The information and knowledge about one another is there. You just haven't put it into practice.
But that’s about to change.
Harry's hands move to pull up the fabric of your dress, bunching it up at your hips. Your black lace panties are exposed to him, which makes him let out a gentle groan, before he’s hungrily looking up at you through his lashes.
"How attached are you to these?" He asks, nudging his chin to your underwear.
You smirk, shaking your head, "Not very."
"Was hoping you'd say that."
Before you realise it, your panties are gone. Harry has ripped them effortlessly off your body and thrown the flimsy fabric aside. A small stinging sensation hits your hips from the force, and you moan from the feeling and action.
You’re now completely bare down there, your pussy on full display to Harry for the first time ever. Never in a million years did you think this would be something he'd see, and while you feel you should shy away from that, you can’t. Not when he’s looking at it, at you, with so much desire.
"So pretty." He hums mindlessly, sounding and looking to be in another trance.
You can’t help but giggle, however it's a sound that dies in your throat when Harry takes hold of your calves and lifts them onto his shoulders. Your hands grip the side of the tub as his snake under your ass to grab handfuls of it, elevating you slightly.
His lopsided smile, dangerous and delicious, now hovers between your thighs, only inches away from your dripping cunt.
"Let's see what other sweet sounds I can get out of you, yeah?"
You don't have a response for that. His lust-filled words have you stunned.
Even if you did have one, it wouldn’t see the light of day. Not when Harry pulls a moan from you instead by closing the gap between his mouth and your pussy; his tongue licking a teasingly slow stripe up through it.
Immediately, you fall apart, body tingling from head to toe as you watch him while he watches you. You couldn’t look away even if you tried. You’re hypnotised.
Harry stops at your clit, smiling against you. You pant and squirm; Needy your first, middle and last name.
"I know, babe. I know." He murmurs, his breath fanning and tickling against your hot, soaked skin, "I'll give you more."
Wasting no more time, he completely buries his face between your thighs. Nose flush against your mound, he breathes you in. Lips wrapped around your clit, sucking, licking and kissing it. Head gently and repeatedly moving from left to right, nuzzling as he eats you out like you’re his last meal.
Your hands grip the porcelain of the tub so hard, you swear it could crack. All you can do is moan, moan and moan some more, your head lighter than air and the ability to speak long gone.
But upon his tongue now dipping into your hole, you become a new woman. One possessed.
"Oh my God!" You yell, throat tight and thighs tensing, “Please, H…more!”
And he gives you it, fucking your cunt with his tongue like a man on a mission. You know you’re making a mess of him, although it’s hard to tell what’s you and what’s from the shower head that still sprays and soaks you both.
He’s still grinning against you, and feeling that is as arousing as the way he eats you out. The cockiness. The confidence. The cheekiness. You love it, and it’s got your orgasm building quickly, quicker than it’s ever built up before. It's not hard to tell that Harry knows what he's doing. He really does worship pussy.
Humming in satisfaction, the feeling of it vibrates against you. Sends shockwaves through you. You’re writhing and wriggling uninhibited, your toes curling fiercely and fists white-knuckling the tub.
His mouth moving back to your clit makes your hips buck up, his face pressing further into your cunt. You’d panic, but Harry seems into it, and if anything, he takes it as an invitation to squeeze your ass harder. Devour you even more.
One particularly hard suck on your swollen bud makes the balloon in your stomach pop. A sense of calm and warmth rushes through you as you climax, Harry’s grip on your behind tightening even more than before as you do.
His blunt nails bite the flesh as he pulls off your clit and heads down to your hole, tongue back inside it to collect your release. Through your weary eyes that he’s still locked onto, you watch as he laps up every drop you give him.
Your trembling body starts to settle after what feels like forever of earth-shattering pleasure. Harry lowers you carefully, your ass meeting the tub while you suck in desperate breaths.
He sits back on his ankles, your eyes honing on his tongue. Harry runs it across his bottom lip, savouring every bit of you. He hums at the taste, smiling wickedly.
You’re spent from your orgasm, but also turned on at the prospect of giving him one. He’s had a taste of you. Now, you want a taste of him.
At that, you grin and nudge your chin towards him, "Stand up."
With raised brows and widened eyes, Harry’s grin grows some more. He doesn’t say a thing, but he does do as he was told.
On his feet, water hits the top of his shoulders and sprays over them, thicker beads of it back to running down every delicious contour of his torso. You swallow hard as you shift to rest on your knees, your focus dropping to look at the very prominent bulge in his jeans just begging to be freed.
Smirking up at him, you smooth your palms up his calves and thighs. His chest heaves, breaths rugged from your touch. Harry is putty in your hands, just like you were in his.
You stop the taunting journey at his waistband, running the pad of your index finger along his jagged left hip bone and the fern tattoo inked there. The way he gasps, his stomach twitches and eyes locked on yours grow more feral… it’s intense. It’s incredible.
"Are you always such a cock tease?"
His voice, rough and so arousing, makes you giggle. You dip your digit beneath the denim, gently trailing the back of it along the soft skin.
“Maybe… is that a problem?"
Harry is quick to shake his head, his smirk back and better than ever, "Not at all, love. But I'll be sure to show you just what happens to those who are if you wanna keep it up."
At that, your breath hitches. Your cunt throbs again, thighs squeezed together to satiate it as you move on to undo his jeans; your focus on his face to make sure what you’re doing is okay by him. That he’s okay in general.
The look on Harry’s tells you he's more than that. He looks thrilled.
But he knows you. He understands that you’re looking for reassurance, so he nods and smiles while smoothing your hair back away from your face.
"Go ahead, darling. Do what you want to me. I’m all yours to use however you want."
You can’t help but moan, moving faster, too. Harry chuckles quietly at your eagerness, a shy smile on your face and cheeks painted pink because of it.
With his jeans now undone, you pull the wet material along with his boxers down his legs until they’re at his feet, leaving Harry to step out and kick them away while you hone in on his now free cock.
The tip, all red, swollen and leaking, rests against his lower stomach, staining his skin and happy trail with the milky-coloured precome. Prominent veins run up the length of a silky smooth, thick and long shaft. And his balls, well-groomed and heavy-looking, are just begging to be drained.
You salivate at the sight, looking up at him in total awe only to find he’s looking down at you with the same expression, his hands continuing to run through your hair. You’re starving for Harry, just like he was, and probably still is, for you.
Grabbing his length, you don't waste any time in gently stroking up the skin you knew would be as soft as velvet. A divine whine tumbles from Harry, your hand wrapped around him with a good amount of pressure feeling him out. Squeezing him a little.
Flattening your tongue and swiping it over his slit, cleaning up the precome spilling from it, makes Harry groan. The sound rattles in his chest while the salty taste of him coats your tongue. You hum at the flavour, needing more. Needing all of it.
You wrap your lips around his tip, suckling and flicking your tongue against it. You continue to work his length with your hand, your eyes remaining on his face. You don't want to miss a second of watching him come completely undone from your touch.
And what Harry gives you is pure art. His head alternates between dropping back in pleasure, and his stubbled chin meeting his shaky chest. He fists your hair tightly, fighting his lids to keep his focus on yours. He seems determined to not miss a minute of you, too.
It makes you smile, just like he did when he gave you head. Harry gives you a lazy one back, the glint in his eyes as devilish as your thoughts.
You bring one of them to life by pulling back and delivering a quick spit to his cock. The atmosphere shifts from somewhat slow and sweet to filthy and feral fast, your move catching him by surprise. One he seems to appreciate by the way his fist in your hair tightens further as his eyes grow darker.
"Again."
After moaning at his raspy command, you don’t hesitate to obey it. You spit again, his own groan hitting the air as your saliva hits his cock.
“Such a good girl.” He coos, smirking as he does, “Now clean it up."
You whimper and comply, picking up where you just left off only now, you bob your head as you suck while twirling your tongue around his shaft, lapping up your spit while sinking lower and lower. The more that his cock disappears in your mouth, the louder Harry’s moans get. The more euphoric he looks.
"Look at you almost taking all of me.” He hums, eyes on your lips wrapped around him before meeting your hazy vision, “Think you can fit it all? You’re so close, darling. You wanna keep going for me?”
Nodding as best as you can makes him grin. His tip is grazing the back of your mouth now and there isn’t too much of him left out, but you want it all in just like he does.
Breathing in and out through your nose and gripping Harry's thighs hard, you push your head forward until there’s no more room to go. Your nose is pressed against his lower abdomen, and his cock is curved down your throat, stretching it out.
Spit bubbles in the corner of your mouth as tears spring from your eyes. You’re more light-headed than ever before. Something you can just tell Harry feels, too.
Swallowing around him brings forth the most pornographic-sounding moan, his legs trembling along with it. His eyes roll into the back of his head. His lazy smile lazier.
"Fuck… that it. That’s my good girl.”
You let your throat clamp around and tease his tip for as long as you can before pulling back as soon as you’ve reached your limit. A string of saliva connects your lower lip to his tip as you cough and breathe in much needed air.
Harry's hands in your hair are quick to cup your face again, the pads of his thumbs wiping away the tears before he moves them to sever the spit string. He rubs the moisture across your now swollen, parted lips, grinning down at you brightly.
"God, you’re fucking incredible. " He hums in awe, "Stand up for me, babe."
You pout at him with stitched-together brows, "But I'm not finished."
“If you keep going with your pretty mouth working magic on me like it just did, I will be, and I'm nowhere near ready to let that happen yet.” Harry chuckles, taking a hold of both your hands, " C'mon, now. Be a good girl and stand."
The praise. The nickname. The way he touches you. Looks at you. He could have you do whatever he wanted, truly.
You let him help you up, your wet dress stuck to your body capturing his attention. His eyes are brazenly glued to your tits, a smirk worn while you fight your own.
Pinching the hem of your dress that fell back to your mid-thigh as you stood up, you now pull it up and off your body, and toss the fabric to lie with his clothes. You stand before Harry entirely naked now as he does for you, no bra to take off. You’re not a fan of them.
His blown-out gaze lingers on your chest as his hands find their home on your hips, his thumb rubbing soft and slow circles. He hides his bottom lip behind his sweet bunny teeth, but when his eyes meet yours again, his lips shift from twitching at the corners into a full blown smile.
"You're so pretty, babe." He whispers, tone low but honesty loud, "So fucking pretty."
Your skin tints pinker at yet another one of his compliments. It’s not the first time he's ever said such a thing, but it’s different now. It means something more.
Your mouths meet again, the pair of you humming as you kiss. You swipe your tongue across his lower lip, asking him to let you in. You want to taste yourself on his tongue. You want him to taste himself on yours.
He lets you in, clearly just as eager. The second your tongues touch and the taste of one another is shared, you’re both moaning in delight.
Harry pulls you closer to his body until you’re flush against him. His quivering cock is pressed against your stomach, and his hands slip down to once more take greedy handfuls of your backside.
He grins against your mouth before pulling his away, "You okay, babe?"
His voice so full of care warms you up. You nod fast, grinning back just as wide.
At that, Harry laughs loudly, the sound filling your heart to the point you worry it could explode. You've loved his laugh for so many years, but now it's like you’re hearing it for the first time. Everything is brand new and beautiful.
The sound fades out, but his grin remains. Harry jerks his chin towards the wall behind you.
“Put your back against the wall, and lift a foot onto the side of the tub."
You once more clench around nothing thanks to his words and the dominant cadence he delivered them in. You take the steps back until you reach the wall, your spine meeting the tile, and raise your right leg before resting your foot on the edge of the porcelain.
Harry follows in your footsteps, stopping between your parted legs. He roams every inch of your face and torso, honing in on your pussy all spread and soaked.
He groans at the sight, which makes you shiver and mewl, and the sound earns his eyes back on yours.
"You're still on the pill, right?"
“I am." You tell him truthfully, swallowing hard, “Why? You wanna fuck without a condom?”
His gaze grows hazy. Smirk as devilish as ever, "Only if you’re comfortable with that. There’s a box of them in the cabinet if not, so I don’t mind grabbing one.”
You shake your head fast, “No condom. I wanna feel every bit of you, but only if you’re comfortable with it, too.”
“I am.” He echoes your earlier words, lips stretching from a smirk into a toothy grin, “I wanna feel every bit of this sweet cunt, too. Been dreaming about it for so long.”
The back of your head falls back to press against the tiles, tipped that way to stare up at Harry staring down at you. Your eyes are wide with the surprise you feel hearing him say such a thing.
“You have?”
“Mhm.” He hums, dipping down to run his nose along the length of yours, “‘M more than happy to divulge my dirty daydreams about you later, babe. But right now, I’m a little more focused on making them a reality. What d’ya say?”
You choke on a breath, blinking rapidly as you nod, “Okay. Yeah. Sounds good.”
Harry laughs, the sound as infectious as ever pulling giggles from you. Your hands slide along his arms while his grip your hips, the firmness in his touch almost as dizzying as watching him now gather saliva behind his teeth to spit a string of it down onto his rock solid cock.
You try to swallow the moan that comes from the sight of that, but it’s impossible. It was just too hot, and watching Harry now fuck his fist with his right hand only makes it more of a challenge. Especially when he’s moaning, too.
Squirming impatiently, a desperation like no other has taken over you. Harry pulls himself together a tad, sending you a taunting grin mixed in with a scolding expression.
"Needy little thing, aren't you?"
You nod and whimper “yes” as he continues to stroke his cock, the tip of it brushing against your stomach. More precome blurts from his slit, staining your skin. Teasing you.
"C'mon, Harry.” You whine and writhe, “Give it to me."
Before you realise it, Harry's cock is at your entrance, the head of it gently grazing your hole. He removes his hand now that he’s anchored in, his fingers gathering the saliva and precome cocktail from his shaft before he’s smearing it across your parted lips that pant out heavy breaths of want.
Just when you think he’s about to give in and give you what you want, he’s gripping your face tightly. Your mouth puckers up while his stretches into a grin, his stare more intense and wicked than ever.
"Say please."
"Please. God- please." You beg, mumbled thanks to Harry's hold on your face, and his words scrambling your brain. You can feel yourself dripping down your thighs, so turned on you could actually cry.
His hand softens until he’s cupping your chin in his palm, fingers either side of your cheeks so soft and tender, “Good girl.”
Pushing his hips up, his cock slowly starts to slide in. You moan loudly, your wet walls stretching to allow his thick length in, yet they hug him so tightly, too. You can feel every delicious ridge of his length, your pussy fluttering as your eyelids do the same.
With his mouth back on yours, Harry catches your sounds. They harmonise gorgeously with his own; every inch of Harry sinking inside of you causing both to grow in volume.
Balls deep, he stops. Your lips separate, sweat-slicked foreheads pressing together and broken breaths fanning across one another’s faces. You’re smiling lazily. Harry is, too.
“You okay?” He sweetly asks, sounding as dizzy as you are, “How d’you feel?"
"So fucking good. Better than good. Perfect. You’re perfect.”
Harry chuckles gently, kissing the tip of your nose. "Right back atcha. How d’you want me?”
“Fast. Rough. Please.”
“You got it, love.”
The sweet, tender moment ends there. He pulls out fast only to push back in even faster, fucking up into you just how you wanted. The atmosphere becomes as feral as the noises you both make, the squelching sound of your cunt wrapped around his cock and his balls slapping against you.
"Fuck, Harry… right there!” You cry out, tears rolling down your face, “Please, don't stop!"
Your hands in his hair are white-knuckled, much like his right hand on your hip. His left now slaps against the tiled wall beside your head behind you, using it to support himself to keep up the animalistic pace.
Sex on someone else has never looked so good. Harry is sex. Pure fucking sex.
His brow is all furrowed and sweat-slicked, with soaked strands of hair clinging to it and hanging over his blacked eyes that flit between your fucked-out face and bouncing tits. His sharp jaw twitching. His swollen lips parted allowing out pants and groans.
You’re on cloud nine, and you know he’s right there with you. But you can both go beyond there. Together, you can fly through space.
“Choke me, Harry.”
At your request, his jaw clenches harder and he sends you another dangerous smile. His hand on the wall moves to cup the side of your neck, his head cocked in intrigue.
"Is that what you want?"
You nod slowly, smirking back, "Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t. Give me a necklace as pretty as the one I gave you."
Your focus flits down to the beaded accessory still worn by him as he laughs through his nose, palm sliding to the front of your throat. The way he moves it is slow. Careful. A complete juxtaposition to the fast and hard fucking he's giving you.
"What else do you want?" He asks, his tone laced with challenge.
“Your come.” You whine, wetting your lips while clenching your cunt, “Wanna milk every last drop from you. Want you to fuck it deep inside me.”
Harry’s eyes roll from your words before he’s back to pinning them on you and piercing you with his stare.
Panting sharp puffs of air through his parted lips that are curled at the corners from his smirk, his hand wraps around your throat; his fingers pressing into the exact right places with the exact right amount of pressure.
You grow dizzier, more light-headed, than ever. Your grin is lazy, and you’re totally lost to the incredible feeling of being choked as you’re being ruined, your moans croaky and pussy wetter than it already was.
"Such a good girl taking me like this.” Harry grunts, your hazy vision clearing to find his looking glazed over, “You thought about this happening between us like I have, baby? Thought about me balls deep in your tight little cunt? My hand squeezing your throat as tightly as your pussy squeezes my cock?”
Whimpering at his words, you nod your head as best as you can, "Fuck, I have. So many times, H."
You’re not lying there. There have been more than a few occasions that you’ve thought about it, especially when you’d heard him fucking somebody else through the thin wall that connects your bedrooms.
But you were just friends. Best friends. You had no intentions of telling him your thoughts or how you wished it was you he was fucking. You didn’t want to lose him if he didn’t feel the same way about you.
That’s no longer a concern anymore, and thank God for it.
Harry moans, pulling you towards him by his grip on your throat. Your mouths meet hard, tongue and teeth clashing together in a way that feels dirty, messy and completely perfect.
Separating, he rests his forehead against your own, your eyes locked on one another's as he continues to fuck up into you with all he has. The position he's got you in hits so deep, you swear you can feel him in your belly. You’re so full. So fed. So happy.
While he adds a little more pressure to your throat, his left hand leaves your hip to press against your lower stomach. You choke on your restricted breaths as he palms where his tip bulges, your whole body trembling and orgasm so close to wrecking you.
“Fuck.” Harry hisses, jaw clenched and teeth gritted, “Got me all the way up here, huh? S’it feel good for you, baby?”
“So good.” You hum, tone tight as you nod needily, “Swear your cock was made for me. Feels so right.”
Harry whimpers at that, "Fuck, it was. It does. Keep going, darling."
"Nobody's fucked me as good as you, ‘n I know nobody ever will again.” You pant, swallowing hard against his palm while you pull his cock in deeper with a squeeze of your cunt, “A match made in heaven, you and me."
"Fucking heaven." He mumbles and nods mindlessly, clearly as blissed-out as you are.
Your high now hits so hard that it almost pushes him out of you, but Harry fights to stay inside. He somehow fucks you even harder, and it’s to the point that you see white and scream his name with all you can muster.
And your orgasm triggers his. His body hunching and hot load painting your walls only extends the euphoria you’re experiencing.
His hand on your throat remains tight, with yours in his hair the exact same as you moan into one another’s open mouths. If you weren’t pressed against the wall and somewhat held up by Harry, you’d be on the ground while your soul floats away.
Your climax fades, but little aftershocks of it tingles your skin while you pant as breathlessly as he does. Both of you start laughing lightly and deliriously, like you’re both in disbelief over what just happened.
Harry pulls back, mouths separating so he can show you his grinning self properly, "I think I saw stars."
You can't help but giggle at his comment, nodding slowly, “Me too."
"We could get used to it, you know? Set up home amongst them… would be a pretty view all the time. What d'ya think?"
"I say let’s do it. It’s cheaper than what we pay for this shit hole we call a home, and waaaaay more fun to get to."
His louder laughter fills the air and warms your heart, "Can't say I disagree with you there, babe."
You hum at the kiss he presses to your forehead, but a hiss follows upon him slowly pulling out. Harry murmurs apologies, then gives your pouting lips from missing him inside of you already another quick peck as you feel his release trickling down your leg.
He steps back, greedy gaze on his come blurting out of your cunt. A filthy-sounding groan rumbles in his chest, a cheeky smirk stretching his lips as he meets your eyes again.
“Now that right there? That's the third prettiest view."
Your brows stitch together in confusion, “Huh?”
"Second spot is the stars that our magical sex sent us to.” Harry elaborates quickly, grabbing the shower head and rinsing his release away, “First is your face."
And while you should blush, roll your eyes and try to fight a smile from his cute albeit cheeky compliment, you can’t.
You feel anxious, because you two just fucked. Where you stand with one another needs to be talked about.
"Things aren't gonna be weird between us now… right?"
"Weirder than how we usually are or?"
“You know what I mean.” You send him a deadpan look, but it shifts to match the panic that twists your stomach, "You mean so much to me, H. I can't lose you, I just can't-”
“Hey, hey.” Harry is quick to cut you off, hanging the shower head up before he’s cupping your face, “That’s not gonna happen, babe. I fucking promise, okay? I’ve got you now and always. ‘M not going anywhere. Not without you, ‘n I want weird anyway.”
"What do you mean?"
He sighs shakily, a look of nervousness across his face now. It's a look you never see from him. He's always so confident and put together.
"If things weren't weird now, it would mean that we're still just friends and that we went back to our normal after this." He hums, thumbs stroking circles against your skin, "I don't wanna be just friends anymore. I haven't wanted to be just friends for a long time."
"You haven't?"
A shy head shake is his answer. You’ve got more questions to ask.
"For how long?"
"Probably since the moment I met you."
Your mouth drops open in complete shock, "What the fuck, Harry?! Why didn't you say anything?!"
"You know me, love. I open up when I feel ready.” He chuckles, shrugging casually as he takes a subtle deep breath in and out, his smile brightening by the second, “I'm ready now, though. I'm sorry I took so long to be."
Your eyes dart between his, and you’re at a complete loss for words. There's no way you ever expected this to happen, for tonight to have gone the way it has. That you would hear Harry admit years-long feelings that he’s had.
But it makes sense that he has. That you have, too.
You're the perfect match in every way. You balance each other out completely. You know everything about each other. You love everything about each other, too; flaws and all. That's a rare thing to find.
And now, thinking about it, you’re glad you both waited until tonight to say, or do, a thing about your feelings. Building a foundation as strong as yours means that your future together will be all the more solid.
Your mind jumps back to earlier on when you asked Harry why he was looking at you like he loved you, and he said it's because he does. You knew then that the look meant more than friendship, but you couldn’t quite figure out exactly what else it could be. Or perhaps you did know, but just wouldn’t let yourself believe it out of fear of heartbreak.
But now, you’re not afraid. You’re excited. And you’re looking back at Harry in the exact same way, for the exact same reason.
"You really love me, don't you?"
With a twinkle in his eyes, Harry lets that shy smile stretch wider. He knows you know now. He knows you feel it in the same way, too.
"More than anything."
And upon him whispering those three little words that have the same effect as three other different ones, you just know that absolutely everything will be okay.
Warnings: age gap (10 years), angst, bondage, oral sex (f receiving & m receiving - Y/N will also be receiving from someone other than Harry in one brief scene), fingering, mentions of suspected cheating, slight gagging and protected sex
Plot: As a struggling university student in your final year, you needed some extra cash and ended up taking a position at a local sex club. All had been going well for quite some time until one night on stage. The last thing you ever expected upon taking your new job was to look out, and see the one and only Professor Styles eying you from the audience.
Quick A/N: I’ll be adding this to my blurbs/one-shots for a while to stay ahead of everything, but just wanted to make note that I’m very much aware of the anonymous messages that have been sent out about me over the last few months. I’ve made the posts I feel are necessary to address the context of said messages, and they’re all still up on my blog if you wish to look into it. The reason I’m bringing this up is because if you have your anon feature on, and you interact with this post, you’ll more than likely end up receiving one (or many) because it seems like whoever is sending these is just going through the list of people who like/reblog my most recent posts. I’m so sorry to anyone who may receive, or has been receiving these messages, just because they interact with a post. As always, my messages are open if anyone wishes to discuss further 🫶🏻 I love you all, and I hope you enjoy ‘Shibari’!
✵ • ✵ • ✵ • ✵
“Great work today,” Professor Styles spoke to the class in front of him with a smile on his lips - glasses perched onto the bridge of his nose. “Please leave your assignments on the desk to be gathered.”
Reaching into your crossbody bag, you pulled out your folder that housed all of the assignments you had to turn in for your classes, and you placed yours down onto the desk.
“Y/N.”
Your head shot up as you heard Professor Styles say your name, and you looked over to him.
“Do you mind collecting those for me before you leave?”
“Yes, sir,” you nodded. “Not a problem.”
Standing up, you draped the strap of your bag over your chest, and once everyone had left, you started to walk around and pick up the papers. Your friend, Bailey, hung out by the doorway. She waited for you, and once you had gathered all the assignments, you walked over to Professor Styles’ desk where he was now sitting.
You set them down with a smile. “See you next week, Mr. Styles.”
“Y/N, wait,” he stopped you as you had barely turned to leave, and your friend Bailey raised a brow at you before you turned to look back at your professor fully. “I asked you to collect those because I wanted to give you a compliment on the essay you had turned in last week. Hearing your thoughts on the powerful women represented in Greek mythology had my attention captured the entire time.”
The smile on your lips grew bigger, and your chest swelled with pride at the compliment. “Thank you, Professor. That means a lot coming from you.”
Professor Styles had to have been the most profound professor you had ever had. He was not only intelligent, but he was so well-spoken. Earning any kind of praise from him felt like you were winning a prize.
“You’ve written many great essays from the start of the semester, but I think this one was my favorite of yours. Excellent work, Y/N. I can’t wait to see what you do with the next one.”
Now you could feel the blush tinting your cheeks as you looked down at your feet before meeting his eyes once more, but now he had pushed his glasses onto the top of his head. “I appreciate that. I have to say that learning in this class comes pretty easy though when you’re the one teaching it - so thank you too.”
You watched as his lips quirked up on one side - causing that sweet dimple of his to indent into his cheek. “And I appreciate that.”
Before causing yourself to look like a blubbering idiot, you turned on your heels and walked over to Bailey who hooked her arm in yours. You made your way into the cafe in the middle of campus to kill time between your next class, and you and your friend sat yourselves down at a table with fresh coffees pressed against your palms - croissants in the middle to share.
“Isn’t it refreshing having a Professor like Mr. Styles?” Bailey took a moment to blow on her beverage to try and cool it down faster. “I feel like any other male professor would’ve shit on you for writing a whole essay about powerful women, but I could tell he was actually being honest when he told you that he really enjoyed yours.”
You nodded in agreement as you reached forward to rip off a piece of one of your pastries. “He also seems like one of the only professors we have that actually cares whether or not we succeed. I’ve heard him offer extra credit so many times to students who are struggling. He doesn’t like to see anyone fail, and I feel like there’s plenty of weirdo professors who feed off that sort of thing.”
“Not to mention he is kind of easy on the eyes,” your friend sighed as she also popped a piece of croissant into her mouth. “Something about those glasses he wears…”
“Bailey,” you cringed while shaking your head - slouching back in your seat while taking a sip of coffee.
“What? Don’t act like you haven’t noticed! For example, whenever he wears those sweater vests, and then rolls up the sleeves of the shirt he has underneath it to his elbows,” Bailey draped the back of her hand across her forehead like a true damsel. “Seeing his tattoos out like that. It’s so hot.”
Pursing your lips to the side, you suppressed the laughter that wanted to leave you. “Okay. Sure. He’s attractive, alright? But I honestly don’t notice that much when we’re in class. I’m actually focusing on the material.”
“Yeah, me too. The material of whatever trousers he’s wearing that accentuate those muscular thighs.”
Eventually you were able to steer the direction of the conversation away from your handsome professor, and before you knew it, it was time for the both of you to head to your next classes.
“Oh, Shauna’s party on Saturday- you’re coming right?” Bailey asked as you gathered your things.
“Uh, I can’t,” you cleared your throat as you tossed your trash into a nearby can. “I already have plans.”
“You do?” Bailey raised a suspecting eyebrow. “What are you up to?”
As much as you wanted to confess to your friend the secret that you had been keeping for months, you knew that you couldn’t. The only thing you could do now was lie. “I offered to help tutor one of my classmates in my Statistics class. She’s starting to fall behind a bit, and she wants to try to get ahead of what’s stumping her before it’s too late.”
“Well, that’s nice of you to offer to do that on a Saturday night. If you finish up early, you should still come.”
“I need the extra cash, especially since I had to replace all that shit in my car a couple of months ago. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity,” the two of you walked out of the cafe, but stopped before going your opposite ways. “If it does end early, I’ll swing by for a bit.”
You hated lying to Bailey. That wasn’t you. You weren’t a liar, and you despised how it made you feel inside. The only thing you could think of to say to cover yourself was that you were tutoring. You had already used the excuse too many times that you were studying and doing your schoolwork, and Bailey knew better than to keep believing that - considering you were a student who liked to get assignments done earlier into the week. There was no fooling her when she knew you in your first year of University, and now you were in your final one. Maybe you would feel comfortable enough to tell her your secret eventually, but for now, it was something you would be keeping all to yourself.
✵ • ✵ • ✵ • ✵
It was now Saturday night, and you found yourself up on stage at Silk & Lace. You were currently partaking in a half demonstration, half scene in one of your usual side rooms - feeling as confident as ever in your strappy lingerie that was slightly see through. Your nipples were just barely shining through the fabric and when you turned around, the lace left little to the imagination when it came to your ass.
Your partner was behind you as you continued to partake in your Shibari demonstration. The red cord rope was tied over your chest, rounding underneath your breasts before it was tied in an intricate pattern along your spine to hold it all together. From there, he lowered himself down to kneel behind you and he began to tie a separate set of ropes high over your hip bones, and then over the creases of your thighs. He then tied a few knots around one of the tops of your thighs before knotting everything together once again.
As you felt your partner finishing up the final knots, your eyes glanced over the crowd like they always did, but you quickly did a double take when they ran over a face you had never seen here before, however, it was one that you knew so well. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat when you realized you weren’t seeing things, and you were actually witnessing your professor sitting there.
Professor Styles.
It was shocking to see him, as you were sure you would’ve noticed had he been here before, but there he was dressed in a dark blue suit - the blazer having a white stripe down the side where the buttons were. Underneath he was wearing a white tank-top that showed off a patch of chest hair, and inked swallows that you had never seen before. He had a glass of caramel colored liquor in his hand that he was bringing up to his lips, but he didn’t dare to take his eyes off of you.
Although a sense of nervousness washed over you, there was also something erotic about the way he was eying your body - all tied up. The ropes across your chest caused your tits to sit up a little higher, and the ropes tucked under the creases of your ass had your cheeks more pronounced. You kept your eyes on him so you could see exactly where his own trailed, and you had almost forgotten about the second part of all of this, the scene part, until your partner was draping you over the bench that was in the middle of the stage.
You closed your eyes when you felt him pulling your underwear over to the side, and you pressed your forehead against the cool surface to ground yourself for just a moment before placing your cheek down once more - positioning yourself so that the audience would be able to see every expression on your face. This was as far as you ever went with the scenes. You had never indulged in one that contained anything but oral sex. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy watching full sex scenes yourself, or that you were against them exactly, but it just wasn’t something you wanted to partake in.
Swallowing harshly, you fluttered your eyes open and could see that your professor still had his eyes glued to you. A gasp flooded from your lungs as you felt your partner’s tongue against your slit, and for the first time in a while, you knew that you were decently wet from the start. It’s not like you didn’t get turned on by any of this, because you did, but tonight you knew that you were already dripping because of who was in the crowd watching your every move. Even though what your partner was doing felt good to you, you were playing up your moans as always. You hardly ever actually came, and you really didn’t care. You honestly did this for fun and the money more than anything. Getting off was never your mission.
The scene went on for some time, and you alternated your noises between whimpers, whines and moans. You had allowed your eyes to close every now and then, to wander over the crowd as there was still a nervousness about looking directly at your professor, but when you looked back to him after a minute or so, you saw his large hand palming against his thick erection. Although you had already felt something switch within you by seeing Professor Styles in this setting, the image in front of you now had you absolutely reeling.
Soon your moans actually turned into genuine ones, and as you stared at your superior, you couldn’t help but imagine that he was the one behind you - the one with his tongue tucked up inside your cunt. With your wrists firmly secured against the small of your back due to the knots that were still in place, all you could do was dig your nails into your palms and picture that your fingers were gripping your professor’s hair instead.
With just a few more pulses of your partner’s tongue inside of you, and his thumb applying pressure to your clit, you came for the first time during a scene in a while right there on that stage. Your thighs trembled as you whimpered your way through your orgasm - fighting to keep your eyes open so that they didn’t disconnect from his.
Now that the scene was over, the crowd began to disperse as your partner helped you up from the table so that you were standing up straight. He untied you, and wiped between your thighs with a damp cloth before you were moving to pull your black silk robe on. From the time that you had turned your back to where the crowd was once sitting to cover yourself, to the time you turned back around, your professor was already gone.
You tried not to wear your emotions on your face, and you quickly made your way into your private room at the club. Pouring yourself a drink, and plopping yourself down on the plush couch, you were now having post-orgasm clarity as you sipped your bourbon. Once Monday came, you knew what you had to do.
You would be asking for a transfer from Professor Styles’ class.
✵ • ✵ • ✵ • ✵
It was Monday morning, and you were sitting beside Bailey in Professor Styles’ classroom. The side of your thumb was against your teeth as she chewed nervously on your cuticle. All weekend you were panicked about what could come of Saturday’s events. You kept trying to be rational about it - reminding yourself that he obviously couldn’t hold anything against you considering he was also at the club, but the whole thing still made you incredibly anxious.
Bailey had been side-eyeing you all morning, but you could tell that she was hesitant to ask what was wrong. You hoped that she wouldn’t. There were several different reasons that you knew that you could give her, but given your current state, you weren’t sure if any of them would come off as believable.
It was two minutes before class was supposed to start, a little later than usual for your professor, but your heart practically stilled as you saw him walking through the front of the room. He looked over the class like he usually did as he made his way to his desk, and you were grateful, but also a little shocked, that his eyes didn’t linger on you any longer than they usually did.
Throughout class, Professor Styles acted as usual. Nothing seemed the slightest bit off with him, but here you were practically crawling out of your skin after what happened over the weekend. Then you had to think to yourself - were you overreacting? It’s not like you had come into any sort of physical contact with each other. You didn’t even talk to each other. It was all eye contact, and nothing more. Your thoughts caused your mind to wander, and you realized you hadn’t been paying attention to a single thing that was being discussed during the lecture. That was unlike you. You were a good student, and it frustrated you that one night only filled with eye contact had you losing focus.
It wasn’t until you heard the regular verbiage that your professor gave every week when class was ending that you knew that it was over. You gathered your things into your bag, and as you stood, you tried to quickly think of a reason to tell Bailey why you had to stay behind.
“Hey, uhm,” you cleared your throat before continuing. “I need to discuss a paper with Professor Styles. I hope it won’t be too long, but I’ll meet you in the cafe soon?”
Bailey shrugged as she pulled the straps of her backpack over her shoulders. “Sure. I’ll see you there.”
You both walked down the steps as you usually sat on the third level of seats in the classroom, and once everyone was gone, you drew in a deep breath as you approached Professor Styles’ desk. He continued to type on the computer, avoiding your gaze as if he didn’t know you were right there, so you decided to just speak.
“I’d like to transfer out of your class, please. I haven’t sent the request in yet, but I know I’ll need you to sign off on the form once I get it from my course planner.”
Your professors’ typing ceased, and you watched as his fingers twitched before he responded to you, however, he kept his eyes on his computer screen. “And may I ask why you suddenly feel the need to transfer out of my class, Y/N?”
“Don’t do that,” you scoffed as you crossed your arms over your chest. “Don’t ignore what you witnessed. I don’t need you playing dumb. That doesn’t make this any easier for me.”
You watched as your professor sighed - running a hand over his face after setting his glasses down on his desk. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to figure out how to navigate this myself.”
It gave you a weird sense of comfort to see that he was in as much distress as you were, but it still didn’t soothe that uneasiness that was knocking inside of your chest.
“I’m sure you are. I took all day yesterday to think about it, and I think it would be easier for both of us if I just removed myself from your class.”
Professor Styles then intertwined his fingers together and pushed his palms down against his desk as he finally looked up at you. You couldn't help but have the images from Saturday night rush through your mind once his eyes met yours, and you started to falter under his gaze.
“We’re both adults. I feel we can be mature about this, don’t you?” His head tilted to the side. “Given the place where the…situation happened, I feel like we’re more than capable of keeping the whole thing private.”
You knew what he meant. For the most part, anything done within the sex club was very secret, and wasn’t talked about outside those doors. Was this him telling you that he wouldn’t breathe a word of it to anyone else? But then you reminded yourself of the thought you had yesterday - if he exposed you, then he exposed himself too.
Taking in a deep breath, you tilted your chin up to try and exude confidence as much as possible. “Fine. I’ll stay, however, if I end up changing my mind after thinking this over some more, I would very much appreciate you signing off on the transfer.”
It did kind of baffle you why you gave in so easily to staying in Professor Styles’ class, but you had to look back at all the times where he encouraged not only you, but everyone to succeed in his course. Regardless of what happened, he was a good mentor, and you would be more than fortunate to finish out a semester with someone as put together as he was.
“Absolutely,” he nodded at your request. “You have my word.”
Giving him another brief nod, you turned to walk out, but once you reached the doorway, he called your name.
“Oh, and Y/N?” Your hands shook at the anticipation of what he would say, or request from you with the tone he was using, but nonetheless, you looked over your shoulder at him. “If you see me there again for any reason, you can call me Harry.”
There were no words you could put together to answer him, and you gave just a silly little shake of your head in agreement before rushing out of the entire building. You knew you were supposed to meet Bailey at the cafe, but you needed some time to yourself. Once you reached the park that was on campus, you sat down on a bench to catch your breath - reviewing the entire encounter you just had over in your head.
Had you made a mistake? Should you have pressed for him to sign the transfer right away instead of trying to hear him out? Regardless of the doubts you were having, you were also intrigued as to why he was so adamant about having you not transfer out of your class. You figured there was only one thing further that could settle what this was.
If you saw Harry at the club again, it would have to be for a specific reason given the circumstances, and you couldn’t deny that you would be tempted to uncover exactly what that was.
✵ • ✵ • ✵ • ✵
It had been a couple of weeks since you had your discussion with Harry about transferring from his class, and you hadn’t seen him in the club since. You figured that he had made the decision to form that separation completely - that he wouldn’t be coming back ever, or at least until you were no longer his student. Part of you understood it, and you knew it was for the best, but another part of you almost found yourself disappointed every time you looked out into the crowd and he wasn’t there.
You were having an inner dilemma over that. It was hard to wrap your head around why you would want your professor to see you in this type of environment again. There was something not wired right in your brain - you were sure of it. You had even contemplated going to therapy to try and figure out why you were so eager to potentially see him here another time, but you forced those thoughts to the back of your mind.
Tonight you had found yourself practically in the same setting that Harry had seen you in, however, this was truly just a demonstration - no scene. It was a woman tying you up tonight, and the lingerie you had on wasn’t as revealing as usual. You could hear your partner for tonight speaking to the crowd, and walking them through every step of how she was knotting up the ropes, but your mind wasn’t so into it.
“Is there anyone that would like to come up here and try?” Your partner asked the crowd as she loosened the ropes to have you free, and you rolled your shoulders and your wrists to stretch them out a bit before you were bound again.
A hand goes up towards the back of the audience, and due to the stage you were on tonight, the bright lights kept you from being able to see the faces of anyone past the first couple of seats. It wasn’t until the volunteer was coming up the steps on the side of the stage that you saw it was Harry, and your pulse quickened.
Your partner stepped back as Harry approached you from behind, and you listened as she gave him the usual run down.
“No touching other than what you have to do with the ropes. One inappropriate touch, and you’re banned - we could potentially consider the cops as well, got it?” She asked, and you smirked softly to yourself at her words. This was the usual lingo, but you knew she was being protective over you.
“Would never even think of touching her inappropriately.”
Goosebumps coated your skin as you felt Harry starting to drape the ropes across your body, and his chest was soon pressed against your back. His fingertips brushed down the back of our arms before he started tying you in knots - both figuratively in your stomach and literally against your skin.
“Is this okay?” He whispered into your ear, and you swallowed harshly before nodding.
“Yes.”
The rest of the demonstration almost felt like a blur, and it wasn’t until you felt the ropes dropping away from your skin for a second time that you realized it was all over. You heard your partner dismissing your crowd of the night, and due to your routine, you immediately turned to grab your robe that was draped over a bar at the back of the stage. As you pulled it on, you started to walk down the stairs, but you soon felt a hand capture your wrist.
Turning around, you saw Harry staring right into your eyes, but he still held a bit of a gap between the two of you. “Can I buy you a drink?”
You looked around for a bit, and then looked down at the contact you had on your skin from him before looking into Harry’s eyes. “I don’t think it would be very wise for us to be seen like that in the open. I doubt we’ll see anyone we know here, but I had that same thought before seeing you and…here we are.”
“You’re right,” Harry nodded as he let go of you, and he stood up straight to run a hand over the button-up he had on - smoothing out the creases. “I’m sorry. I’ve already overstepped enough as it is. Goodnight, Y/N.”
Your eyes lingered on him as he turned to walk away, and although you were still on the stage for everyone to see, you reached out to wrap your hand around his bicep. Harry’s eyes looked down at where your hand held him, and you felt a stutter in your pulse once he looked at your face. “Follow me.”
The two of you didn’t speak another word as you led him off the stage and down the hallway of the club towards your own personal room. You were able to use this room however you saw fit, but you had never had someone in here with you before. As you dragged Harry in behind you, you could feel your heart thumping against your chest.
“Sit,” you gestured towards the armchair that was across from the couch in the room - separated by a thin coffee table. “I’ll get us some drinks.”
Walking over to the bar in the corner, you poured you and Harry both a glass of bourbon. You guessed that’s what he liked to drink based on the color of the liquor you had seen that night. As you walked back over, you extended the glass out to him. “I hope this is right. I kind of guessed at what you like.”
“It is,” Harry nodded as he took it from you, and you walked over to the couch. You slouched against it, and the two of you raised your glasses in a silent ‘cheers’ before taking a sip.
The clinking of the ice against your glasses was the only sound resonating in the room for a while before you heard Harry clear his throat.
“Can I ask how you first got into Shibari?”
“My ex,” you shrugged as you extended your legs out further on the couch, letting the two of them extend over one of the arms while your cheek rested against the opposite one - your eyes set on Harry. “It intrigued me while we were together. We indulged in it quite often and I enjoyed it. We’ve been broken up for almost a year now, but I was pursuing a different job a few months ago and this popped up. I don’t like to be tied up all the time while being intimate, of course. It just really excites me from time to time.”
You weren’t so sure why you were being so open and honest with your handsome professor, but you felt comfortable with him. Obviously he was in this club, he wasn’t here to judge, and that gave you some reassurance.
“Can I ask you a question now?” You ran the tip of your finger around the rim of your glass, and you watched as Harry nodded. “I had never seen you in the club before the other night. Was that your first time, or have we just somehow managed to avoid each other?”
Harry chuckled as he looked down into his glass that he was holding in his two hands between his thighs - properly manspread in the armchair he was occupying. “I’ve been coming here for a while, actually, but I tend to bounce around. It just so happened the night I wanted to check out something new, and decided on the Shibari scene, you were the participant.”
It was silent again for a moment as you both kept sipping from your drinks before you decided to speak again.
“Why did you stay that night? You had to have realized it was me.”
“I did,” Harry looked up from his glass so he was holding your eyes. “And I stayed because I couldn’t get over how you looked tied up like that. Like I said, it was my first time seeing Shibari in general, and you made it look so beautiful - so elegant.”
You sucked in a deep breath as you processed his words before responding. “And the scene part of it? Why did you stay and watch that?”
“I wanted to know what you look like when you come.”
Pressing your thighs together subconsciously, you swallowed down the whimper that almost escaped you. Hearing him say that so openly, and without hesitation, had you starting to tingle all over.
“You were hard,” you whispered.
“Very,” Harry nodded before taking another sip of his bourbon.
“You touched yourself while you stared at me.”
“I did. I tried to resist for some time, but after a while, I just couldn’t help myself,” you watched as Harry’s eyes dropped to where your thighs were still glued to each other, but he didn’t comment on it.
“Did you…had you thought of me in that way before?” You asked. You weren’t sure exactly how that would make you feel if he had looked or thought of you in this kind of nature before. “Like have you thought of me in that way just from me being in your class?”
Harry shook his head. “I promise you that I hadn’t before the other night. Seeing you on that stage was the first time I ever viewed you as anything other than my student.”
If you thought the air around the two of you had shifted already, you were wrong. Hearing him confirm that he was truly seeing you differently now, and that it wasn’t until this club that he had, it was clear that the dynamic between the two of you was beginning to change. Quickly.
“And now?”
“Why do you think I volunteered to be the one responsible for having those knots press into your pretty skin tonight?” Harry tilted his head to the side as he let his eyes run over the length of your body. “You’ve intrigued me, Y/N. I’m more than aware of how wrong this is, but I can’t stop thinking about you - no matter how hard I try.”
Taking in a shaky breath, you sat up straight on the couch and downed the rest of the liquor in your glass before setting it down on the table, and you watched as Harry did the same.
“What do you think about when you think of me?” You were teetering into dangerous territory now. You well aware that you were, but you just couldn’t stop. Truthfully, you felt you were already in too deep.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about whether or not I’m delusional,” Harry started to spin the ring that was around his middle finger. “I question if I'm right in thinking that your moans changed that night when you noticed me touching myself while looking at you.”
You can’t help but gasp at the fact that he noticed that. You weren’t sure it was that obvious that your moans had changed once you could see Harry’s clear hard on, and that he was touching himself to the sight of your body, but clearly it had been something he couldn’t miss.
It grew just as silent as it was when the two of you first entered the room before Harry stood - making his way over to you. Your hands dropped from your lap to curl around the edges of the couch cushions underneath you as Harry came to stand between your legs, and he brought one of his feet back to press against the coffee table with the sole of his shoe to move it backwards.
“Are you going to put me out of my misery? Or are you going to allow me to continue to suffer with those thoughts?”
“Yes,” the word barely came out as you watched Harry lower himself down onto his knees.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, my moans changed.”
Harry’s eyes wandered over your face, and his throat expanded as he stared up at you. “Why?”
You paused for a moment as you contemplated whether or not you should give him the real reason. If you admitted this information to him, you wouldn’t just be teetering on the line of dangerous territory anymore - you’d be diving headfirst into it. But the sight of Harry on his knees in front of you, as if he were so desperate for answers that he’d put himself in a vulnerable-like position, your mind had grown a bit fuzzy.
“Because once I saw how hard you were, and that you were touching yourself, I couldn’t help but picture that it was you who was eating me out.”
There was only a beat of quiet before Harry groaned and dropped his forehead to rest on the inside of one of your thighs. You hesitantly raised your hand before reaching forward to run your fingers through his cropped hair - causing Harry to lean even further against you.
“You’re right. This is wrong,” you said in agreement to the statement he made earlier, but you made no movement to retract your touch.
“Then tell me to get up,” Harry blinked his eyes back open as they met your own once more. “Tell me to walk out right now, and I’ll leave. I’ll sign your transfer on Monday. We’ll forget about all of this.”
Biting down on your bottom lip, you stayed in your same position, and a few seconds passed before Harry pushed himself up to sit higher on his knees. He leaned forward so his face was just inches from yours - eyes dancing over each other's faces.
“Tell me to go, Y/N,” you could hear the strain in his voice.
Your hands started to shake as you raised them to rest on the sides of his neck, and you took the time to really drink in his features considering you had never been able to take him in this closely before. Leaning forward, you still left the littlest bit of space between your faces as you knocked your bottom lip against his top one. You could tell that Harry’s hands had crept forward as well, and you felt him toying with the tie of your robe.
You allowed him to pull it all the way loose, and once your robe fell open, Harry’s large palms ghosted across the tops of your thighs before traveling up your abdomen. He cupped right under your rib cage - the pads of his thumbs caressing right where your nipples would be from over your bra. A small moan left your mouth as you moved your head to have your lips tapping again, but this time you kept them there as you and Harry held each other’s eyes.
“Har-” You went to speak his name, but he cut you off by gluing your mouths together entirely, and you heard that groan that rattled in his throat.
One of his hands stayed on your abdomen, but the other reached up to tangle itself into the back of your hair. He tugged at it slightly, which caused you to gasp against his lips, and he took that opportunity to roll his tongue out and against yours. You opened your legs even further so that you could pull him closer - your heart pounding in your chest. This was hands down the riskiest thing you had ever done in your life, but something about the thrill of it all just had you turned on that much more.
You arched your back to have your robe falling off your body completely, and Harry pulled back so that he could look over you. “Shit,” he whispered, shaking his head before leaning back in to kiss over the side of your neck - journeying down over your collarbone while dropping his hands to your thighs. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N.”
Harry lifted his body up so he was hovering over you as he pushed your thighs further apart. He continued to kiss down your body - stopping to suck gently on one of the swells of your breasts. You whimpered as you threw your head back against the couch, and you reached down to lace one set of your fingers with his. Harry wasn’t sure what it was about you doing that, but that one small gesture had his heart fluttering in the midst of all your lust.
“Will you let me make those images you had thought up in your head a reality, baby?” He brought your connected hands up to press a kiss to the back of yours.
“Yes,” you nodded your head adamantly as you kept your head against the back of the couch, but you dropped your eyes down to look at him. “Please.”
Harry lowered your hands, still keeping them together, to rest on the cushion beside one of your legs. His other hand found its way between your thighs, and he brushed the pad of his thumb over your clit through the material of your underwear. He hummed as he could already feel it pulsing against his digit before dragging it down your covered slit. Licking over his bottom lip, he pushed a little harder so that he could feel how wet you were, and he was met with dampness starting to seep through.
“When did this start, hm? Was it when she was tying you up on stage?”
“No,” you swallowed harshly, and then moaned as Harry dragged his thumb back up to your clit - beginning to rub in precise circles. “It was when you started tying me up.”
You leaned your head to the side to rest your cheek on your shoulder as you kept a close eye on Harry’s every move, and you watched as a smirk grew on his perfect pink lips. “Does things to me that I can get you this wet without even having to really touch you. Can I take these off?”
“You don’t have to keep asking me for permission, Harry. Do whatever you want to me.”
Harry stared into your eyes as he let your hand go so that he could wrap both sets of his fingers around the waistband of your underwear. You lifted your hips as he started to pull them down, and goosebumps covered your skin at the cool feeling against your core now that you were exposed to the air in the room. After tossing the undergarment to the side, Harry’s fingertips ghosted up the outside of your legs until he got to your knees, and one at a time, he draped the crooks of them over his shoulders.
“If I do anything you don’t like, or you want me to do something differently, you just tell me, alright?” He pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and you shuttered at just how close he was to where you wanted him most.
“I will, I promise. Just please…touch me,” if you weren’t so desperate for him, and blinded by the need for his mouth on you, you would’ve cringed at how whiny you sounded begging for him, but you couldn’t be bothered at the moment.
“I hope I live up to your expectations. I hope that I exceed them.”
With the first touch of the tip of Harry’s tongue against your clit, your eyes slipped shut, and your hand found its way into his hair again. You tugged on it as he swirled his tongue around the nub before sucking it between his lips. He hummed against you, and the vibrations had you clenching down around nothing as you bucked your hips up against his mouth.
“Harry, fuck,” you gasped as your toes curled.
He was hardly doing anything to you yet, and you already were unable to keep still from just how good it felt. Parting his lips, Harry open-mouthed kissed his way down, properly making out with your cunt, before he began to lap at your dripping entrance. Your thighs threatened to close around his head as your brought your other hand up to join with the other, and you held one against the back of Harry’s head, the other continuing to run through his hair - pulling on it every now and then.
“You’re so messy down here, honey,” Harry blew against your hole, and you knew he could see that was causing it to pulse - desperately wanting to be filled. “Dripping all over my chin, but you taste so good, Y/N. I think I’m gonna be fucking addicted to your sweet pussy.”
His words left you breathless, and that feeling increased even further as he plunged his tongue inside of you while rutting the tip of his nose against your swollen bud. Biting down on your bottom lip, you tried to conceal just how loud you wanted to cry out for him, as if you had any reason to be quiet in the environment you were in. You made a noise of distress as you felt Harry’s mouth leave you again, but you were immediately met with a smack of his fingers against your core.
“Don’t you dare hide your noises from me,” Harry’s voice was stern as he then massaged his fingers against the area of impact to soothe it. “Let me hear you.”
He didn’t spare another second as he dove right back in, but this time, his lips were back around your clit, and he slipped his middle and ring fingers inside of you. A loud mewl flooded from your lungs as your hold on Harry’s hair grew tighter, and you began to roll your hips in time with the lapping of his tongue against your nub.
“You’re so fucking good,” you could barely get the words out as your thighs began to tremble again. “Never had someone eat me out like this before.”
You weren’t lying. Harry had such a vigor to the way he feasted on you, and you could tell he was focused more on giving you the utmost pleasure more than anything else.
His long and thick fingers plunged in and out of you - the coolness of his rings a stark contrast to how warm your core had become. Once he curled the tips of said fingers, and rubbed the pads of them right against your g-spot, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to hold off an orgasm much longer.
“I’m gonna come soon.”
Those words had Harry working even harder against you - slipping in another finger and sucking harder on your clit. You matched his energy as you rocked your hips with more precision, and you could feel that band in your lower abdomen stretching to its fullest capacity. You knew it was going to snap any second.
“Harry,” your whole body tensed up, and your thighs were now trapping him in. “Oh, I’m…I’m coming.”
The band in your stomach shattered, and you let out the mix between a small scream and a moan as you felt yourself gushing around Harry’s fingers. He continued to work you through your high, almost to the point of overstimulation, before you dropped one of your legs and pressed the arch of your foot against his shoulder to push him back. Your eyes fluttered open as you watched Harry bring his fingers up to his lips, humming as he cleaned your orgasm off of them.
Sitting up, you grabbed his face to pull his mouth against yours, and you groaned as you tasted yourself on his tongue, but that just made everything hotter to you. You pulled back and kissed over the side of his neck before quickly moving the two of you so that he was now sitting on the couch, and with still shaking legs, you kneeled between his own.
“Your turn,” your chest heaved as you were still trying to catch your breath, and you reached forward to start undoing his belt after untucking his shirt from his trousers. Harry pushed himself up a bit higher on the couch by pressing his palms down against the cushions, and you glanced up at him with a smirk on your lips.
After getting the buckle undone, you unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, and just as you were going to pull the belt loose from the loops, Harry’s hands came down and captured your wrists. You looked at him with your lips parted and your eyes wide. His brows were furrowed, and his eyes were shut tight - almost as if he was pained to look down and see your actions.
“Y/N. Stop.”
“I-I’m sorry,” you swallowed harshly as your hands began to shake. “I don’t have to. I didn’t mean to-”
“I can’t do this,” Harry shook his head as he moved your arms back so your hands dropped by your sides, and you remained on your knees while he stood up from the couch.
You watched him do his trousers and his belt back up, and your mouth opened and closed as you tried to think of what to say as he started towards the door.
“What…what just happened?” You asked, embarrassment washing over you. “Why are you leaving?”
Harry stopped with his hand around the doorknob, and you could see him glancing at you halfway over his shoulder, but instead of giving you any type of response, he opened the door and walked out.
Rubbing your hands over the tops of your thighs, you stared blankly at the couch in front of you as you tried to understand Harry just leaving you the way he did. He seemed so into it. From the way that he was talking to you, to the way that he practically acted like he couldn’t get enough of you, this was the last thing that you expected to happen. Sighing, you pressed the heels of your palms against your eyes as you tried not to let yourself get too upset over this, but the open-endedness of it all had your mind reeling.
You gave yourself a few more minutes before you pushed yourself up from the floor, and you removed your fancy bra and changed back into comfy clothes so that you could go home for the night. Thoughts of what Monday was going to bring were rushing through your head, but you tried to push them down for the time being. You knew this would be another weekend of you trying to figure out how to move forward in the complicated situation you found yourself in with Harry, but this time, you weren’t even sure how you could ever face him again.
✵ • ✵ • ✵ • ✵
When Harry walked in and found you sitting in his classroom two weeks after the night you shared at Silk & Lace, he was a bit shocked. You had missed his next two classes, and he was sure that you were just going to either drop the course, or force him to drop you due to not continuing to attend. He froze when he saw you, but he was sure it was brief enough that no one else would’ve noticed, but you definitely did.
You had decided that you needed time before seeing him again, so you skipped out the past two weeks. This past Saturday was the only other shift you had had at the club since that night, and you felt a bit foolish as you hoped that Harry would show up to try and talk to you - to explain what happened and apologize. Of course he didn’t show up. Why would he? He made it clear when he ran out of the room that night that he regretted what the two of you did, and you could only come to the conclusion that he was disgusted with not only himself, but also with you.
Bailey had noticed you had been off, and you had avoided seeing her outside of classes as much as you could. You knew if you went to the cafe with her that she would start to question you as to what was going on. It wasn’t like you could be honest with her at all about what happened with Harry. There were so many layers to that conversation you would have to have, and honestly, you didn’t have the energy for it right now. You kept making up the excuse that you were exhausted from both schoolwork and tutoring, but you knew that would only work for so long.
Once class ended, you let Bailey know that you had something that you needed to take care of between classes, and that you’d catch up with her later. The look she gave you was skeptical, but she didn’t try and pry, which you were grateful for. You busied yourself as your classmates left, acting as if you were organizing things to fit properly in your bag, and once everyone was gone, you approached Harry’s desk with your binder tight against your chest.
Swallowing harshly, you pulled the class transfer form from the front pocket, and you extended it out to him with a shaking hand - tears in your eyes. You felt silly for crying, but you couldn’t help it. The way he left you had you feeling so many different things. Things you still couldn’t properly wrap your head around.
Harry avoided looking up at you as he reached out to take the form, and you watched as he quickly scribbled his signature on the appropriate line before handing it back to you. As he continued to type on the computer, you stood there for a moment as anger started to take you over completely.
“Did you get what you were looking for that night?”
He still continued to type. To ignore.
“Tell me, Professor, what got you off more?” Your tone was sarcastic as you tilted your head to the side. “Was it the taste of my cunt on your tongue, or what is it the fact you had managed to wedge your head between the thighs of someone ten years younger than you?”
Harry’s typing quickly ceased, and he glanced over at the open door before looking up at you. It pissed you off that the sight of his beautiful green eyes behind those glasses still caused a feeling to stir in your stomach, but you pushed it away as he spoke up. “We cannot talk about that here.”
“No? Where would you like to then?” A laugh crawled its way up your throat. “You had the perfect opportunity to talk to me about it that night, but you ran out on me. My thighs were still fucking shaking from my orgasm when you left me there on my knees.”
“Y/N. Lower your voice,” Harry’s tone was clipped as his brows narrowed.
“You made me feel pathetic, but I guess I should’ve known it was never about me. It was just easy for you because the hard part was already done. You knew what I was into. You knew sex wasn’t something I was ashamed of, and you got me to admit to having thoughts I shouldn’t have about you. I fell right into your plan, didn’t I, Harry?”
Lifting your hand, you angrily wiped at the tears that had started to stream down your cheeks as you sucked in a deep breath. It was quiet between the two of you for a moment, so you decided to continue since it was clear Harry wasn’t going to answer you.
“I’m not going to tell anyone, but that’s mostly because I’m ashamed to let anyone know I was too naive to see it for anything more than what it truly was,” you bit at him.
“Yeah, and what was that?” His voice was even harsher now, and it almost made you draw back, but you held strong to what you were saying.
“I was just a fetish to you. A kink. And I should’ve realized that sooner because that’s literally why I’m there at that club. To allow people to indulge in a fantasy, and then go back to their normal lives the next day. I hate myself for thinking that would be any different when it came to you.”
You didn’t allow him the courtesy of giving you a response as you quickly turned around and walked out of his classroom - Harry making no indication of trying to stop you.
There was a part of you that had been holding tight to the fact that after you got your transfer form signed, that the weight you were feeling in your chest over all of this would be lifted, but now, it was just heavier. Not wanting to wait any longer to get this done and over with, you started down the hallway towards the administrative offices so that you could turn in the form, and get a new course as soon as possible.
✵ • ✵ • ✵ • ✵
After taking some time off from the club, giving yourself a nice mental break after everything that had happened with Harry, you found you were a couple hundred bucks short on your rent. Tonight you were back up on the stage for the first time in over a month - doing both a demonstration and a scene. The demonstration went well, however, when your partner bent you over the bench as they usually did, starting up the scene part of all of this, they felt your body instantly tense up.
He walked around to the side of the bench so that he was covering your face from the crowd, and he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Y/N, are you alright?”
Closing your eyes, you tried to calm yourself down, but you knew you weren’t going to be able to. You hadn’t done anything sexual wise with anyone since Harry. Hell, you hadn’t done anything sexual outside of scenes in a while before Harry. You knew the minute your partner started to go down on you, all you were going to do was compare. That it wasn’t him. That it didn’t feel as good.
“No,” you whispered. You knew you needed to call it. “I don’t think I can do this tonight.”
“That’s alright,” your partner ran a tender can down your back to soothe you before helping you stand up. “I’m glad you’re telling me. Let’s get you untied, okay?”
Nodding, he turned you away from the audience and took you off the stage to untie you so that you weren’t in front of everyone when you were this vulnerable. The person that always helped set up the stage came over with your robe, and they helped you into it once your body was free of the cord knots.
“Thank you guys,” you wrapped your arms around yourself as you looked between the two of them. “I’m sorry. I’m just not in the right state of mind. The demonstration was okay…I just can’t do scenes right now.”
“Y/N,” your partner walked forward and pulled you into their chest. Leaning into him, you wrapped your arms around his torso as you sighed happily.
It had been a while since you had someone hug you like this. You had closed yourself off from everyone over these past few weeks after everything happened. Even though isolation was never your intention, it was ultimately the result of how you were choosing to cope with your current situation.
You remained in your partner’s arms for just a while before pulling back. “I needed that.”
“If you need anything else, you let me know. We’re all here for you.”
One thing about the club - they took everyone’s mental health very seriously. If anyone was struggling, everyone rallied together to do whatever was needed to help. You had no worries about your money after calling the scene tonight as the owners have always made it very clear that you would never be penalized for tapping out of something you didn’t feel comfortable with. That’s one of the main reasons you decided to join their team here. They actually cared about the well being of their employees.
Deciding that you needed to call it an early night, you started to walk towards your private room, and as you did, you heard your name being called from a distance. You stopped, eyes glancing around to search the groups of people around you before they landed on him.
Harry.
With a twitching jaw, you quickly turned away and started walking towards your original destination at a faster pace. You had nothing to say to him, and as far as you were concerned, there was nothing of worth he could say to you either. Harry ended up catching up to you, falling into a perfect pace with your steps, but you kept your sight forward.
“Y/N, please,” there was a hint of pleading to his tone, but you wouldn’t let it shake you. “I just want to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about, Harry - especially after you waited this long.”
“I know, alright? I know that I fucked up, but I do want to explain. I know I don’t deserve it. I know that I hurt you, and I feel like the biggest fuck-up in the world for that. I just…there’s things that I wish I could’ve told you that night. Things that I find really hard to talk about and explain. I’ve worked through it as best as I could to get to this point, and I feel ready to talk about it with you,” Harry had to resist reaching out to grab your hand, or to even just touch your wrist.
You stopped walking after hearing what he had to say, and you gave yourself a moment before looking over at him. It was hard to believe, but you had almost forgotten just how handsome he was after going without seeing him for some time. With his chiseled jawline, and his sculpted features, he truly was one of the prettiest people you had ever come across in your life. Your mind and your heart were at war with each other. Your mind said to continue telling him to fuck off - that he had done enough, and you had finally started to move on. But your heart was eager to have him explain what happened as his demeanor did give off the impression that he was feeling guilty about it all.
“I don’t want to talk here,” Harry continued. “You said that I only wanted you here so that I could forget about you the next day and carry on with my normal life, but that’s not the case. So, I don’t want to do this here tonight. This place may have had me start seeing you in a different light, however, I don’t want you just up on that stage or in your room. Would you feel comfortable coming back to mine once you’re ready to go?”
Looking around, you wrapped your arms around yourself, and you brushed your palms up and down the outside of your arms - feeling small for the first time ever under his gaze. “I’ll think about it. I’ll have an answer for you once I’m done getting changed.”
“Take however long you need,” Harry nodded as he tucked his hands into the pockets of trousers. “I won’t be going anywhere until either you’re coming with me, or you tell me to leave.”
Your eyes trailed over him for a moment. “Okay,” you whispered before starting towards the hallway that you had been aiming for all along.
Once you got into your room, you dropped your arms back down by your side - shaking them out. You walked over to your wardrobe, and you pulled off your robe and the lingerie you had worn tonight, and you started to change back into a pair of mom jeans and a plain t-shirt. Walking over to your vanity, you sat down and stared at yourself in the mirror for a moment. You knew that you were stalling, but you were nervous.
As much as you were leaning more towards hearing Harry out, you also were worried that if things didn’t go your way, you’d be right back to step one when it came to trying to heal from this whole situation. You weren’t sure how you would handle having to try to get over him all over again when you thought there was a chance this could actually work out for the two of you.
“One more night,” you whispered to your reflection. “The only other chance you’ll give him, and that’s it.”
You pushed yourself up and grabbed your bag, draping the strap over your shoulder before heading back out into the main floor of the club. Looking around, your eyes searched for Harry, and soon you found him at the bar - hunched over what appeared to be a glass of bourbon. You rolled your shoulders back as you walked over to him. Raising your arm, you rested your elbow up against the bar as you slipped between two barstools with your body turned to face Harry’s.
“Ready?” You asked after clearing your throat.
Harry jumped a bit at the sound of your voice, and his lips parted as he raised his eyebrows. “You’ll come with me?”
“Yep. Let’s go before I change my mind. I’ll follow you to your place in my car.”
Not having to be told twice, Harry stood from the bar and threw a twenty down to cover his drink and a nice tip before hovering his hand over your lower back. “After you.”
The two of you walked out of the club and towards the parking lot, and you stopped by your car once you reached it. Harry pointed a few rows back to his own car. “I’ll go ahead and pull around so that you can follow behind me. Are you sure you don’t just want me to drive?”
“No thank you,” you shook your head. “I’d like to have my car in case I change my mind and want to leave.”
A frown tugged at the corner of Harry’s lips before he nodded. “Right. Well…I’ll see you soon.”
You kept your eyes on his back as he walked towards his car, and when you saw him getting into his car, you got into yours. Once you were following behind him, it only took about fifteen minutes until the two of you were heading down a driveway - parking in front of a medium sized home. You weren’t sure why it surprised you that a single man like Harry lived in a house, and not some type of flat in the busier part of town, but there was something very appealing about it.
Getting out of your car, you trailed behind him a bit as you made your way onto the front porch, and soon you were stepping into the foyer of his home. You looked around while shrugging the strap of your bag off your shoulder - setting it on the small table that was flush against the wall by the door.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Harry asked as he shrugged off the blazer he was wearing, and you watched as he rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt to the creases of his elbows. You couldn’t help but remember what Bailey had said that day at the cafe, about how hot it was whenever he did that, and you hated that your mind was going there when you still wanted to be angry with him.
“Please.”
“Let me get you into the living room, and then I’ll grab us some.”
You followed Harry through a short hallway, and soon you were in a room with a couple of armchairs and a couch. A large rug was splayed in the middle of the floor, and a decently sized TV was mounted on the wall right across from the couch. There was a bookshelf filled to the brim tucked inside the corner, and a fireplace was built into one of the walls.
“Please sit, I’ll be just a moment,” Harry gestured in front of him as he spoke, and you watched as he disappeared a little further down the hall.
Sighing, you dropped down into the armchair that was furthest away from the couch, and you nervously ran your hands up and down your thighs. It didn’t take long for Harry to return - extending a glass of bourbon out in your direction, which you took with a soft ‘thank you’.
It felt like a bit of deja vu when Harry sat down on the couch that was diagonally across from you. Crossing one leg over the other, you rested your glass on the top of your knee. Part of you wondered if you should speak up first, but you decided against it. He had asked you here to talk, and you had said everything you needed to say to him in his classroom the last time you saw him. It was his turn to do the talking.
“I want to start by saying, I don’t regret what happened that night, and that me leaving had nothing at all to do with you.”
You kept your eyes down on your drink as Harry spoke - running your tongue along the inside of your cheek. “You’re giving me the whole ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ spiel?”
“Y/N,” he sighed, but you still kept your head down. “I know it sounds so stereotypical, but I have a lot more to explain, alright? I promise that it really was all me. This whole thing is my fault. My anxiety got the best of me that night, and it wasn’t because of what we were doing. I enjoyed every fucking minute of what happened up until my mind decided to go to a dark place that I’ve tried my hardest to forget.
“It had been so long since I had seen someone on their knees like that for me. It’s been a couple of years now. My girlfriend of six years just up and left me one day with no note while I was at work. We had been engaged for six months. I came home to an empty apartment, and that was that. I haven’t allowed myself to indulge in anyone since then.”
“What?” Your head snapped up at the last part of his statement. “You mean…not a single person - not doing anything at all in-”
“Two years,” Harry nodded. “That’s right.”
Each of you took a second to sip at your drinks, but instead of looking back down, you kept your eyes on him as he started to speak again.
“I got overwhelmed because I honestly didn’t expect to feel as much as I did for you once I allowed myself to give in, but kissing you Y/N - that was the most exhilarating thing to happen to me in years. And when I say years, I mean many. Looking back, my ex and I didn’t have a perfect relationship. We grew comfortable. I had suspected she may be cheating, but I looked past it because I didn’t really think there was anyone else out there for me. I didn’t want to go through the trouble of starting all over. Having to date after all that time is intimidating,” Harry ran his fingers through the front of his hair. “I still don’t know if she ever was seeing someone else, and I’m okay with not knowing for sure.
“So, when I saw you down on your knees for me like that, and knowing how vulnerable I was going to be with you, I got scared. I hope you don’t take what I’m about to say next the wrong way, but I was worried that what was going to happen was going to mean way more to me than it was to you. We didn’t discuss what any of it meant, and if it had been just a fun fling for you, I should’ve been okay with that. I would be now, but then, I couldn’t handle it, however, I know I wouldn’t have had a right upset.”
You opened your mouth to speak, but Harry held up a hand.
“Just…I guess I’m telling you all of this to let you know how fucking sorry I am, Y/N. I realize how I must’ve made you feel, and I hate that I allowed my own insecurities to get the better of me. I’m an adult. I’m a grown man. I should have talked to you about it instead of just running away,” Harry’s hand shook as he brought his glass back up to his mouth to take a long sip of his liquor.
“I appreciate you being honest with me, but I’m still angry. Just like you said, you’re a grown man, and I understand that anxiety and insecurity can make us feel many different things, but just leaving me on that floor like you did was awful. I felt so worthless. Even though I was the one who got off, I still felt used by you. I see it all the time at the club - people who get off on giving pleasure more than receiving it,” you shifted in your seat a bit. “I thought that’s what had happened. That you just used me to explore that side of you or something, and then you wanted to run off.
“I am sorry about what happened with you and your ex. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be with someone for that long, and for them to disappear on you out of the blue with no answers. However, I can relate to how your mind probably reacted to that. You thought of every scenario as to why you were just walked out on. It’s a terrible feeling. I want you to know that when I brought you back to my room, I did think that it would be a fun, one-time thing and that we’d move on, but once your mouth was on me, I knew it would be more than that. You took your time to figure out what I liked instead of rushing it, and it had been a while since I had hooked up with someone as well. Not as long as you, but long enough to where it did mean something to me too.”
Harry set his glass down on the coffee table, and he patted the spot next to him on the couch. “Please come sit next to me.”
Hesitation washed over you as you stared at where his hand rested, but eventually you got up and set your drink next to his before sitting down. You still left a good distance between the two of you, but now you were looking into each other’s eyes.
“I’m mad that when I approached you in your classroom, the last time we saw each other, that you didn’t give me any kind of reassurance that you weren’t just using me - especially if you were already starting to work through your reasons why you did what you did,” you told him honestly as you fidgeted with your fingers.
“I know,” Harry nodded, and he started to reach for your hand, but he stopped himself. He raised his brows in silent permission, but instead of having him be the one to make contact first, you reached forward and grazed the tips of your fingers along the top of his wrist. “I promise that if you give me a chance to make this right, I’ll spend every moment making sure you know that I’m serious about whatever this is. We don’t have to label it right away - we don’t have to label it at all. I would just really like to see where this leads if you’re willing to forgive me.”
Capturing your fingers between his own, Harry then lifted your hands up to his mouth to press kisses to each of your knuckles before sponging one to the inside of your wrist. You wiggled your fingers out of his, and you saw a look of fear flash in his eyes until he felt your palm against his cheek - thumb grazing right underneath his eye. “One more chance, Harry, but that’s it.”
Harry sighed with relief as his eyes fluttered shut, and he cupped your forearm. “Thank you, Y/N. I know I don’t deserve it. You don’t know how much I appreciate this.”
“You don’t deserve it,” you smirked playfully so that he knew you were joking once he blinked his eyes open. “But I know that it takes a lot to be honest with someone like you were with me tonight. It’s not easy, and that alone showed me that you really knew you fucked up.”
“It wasn’t easy, but I didn’t feel uncomfortable opening up about it to you. I can’t wait to show you how much I want to get to know you.”
Leaning forward, your lips covered Harry’s, and he hummed happily before wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulled you closer to him so that your chests were flush together - your hand sliding to the bit of his chest that was showing due to a few buttons of his shirt being undone before you mumbled against his mouth.
“I want to get to know you too.”
✵ • ✵ • ✵ • ✵
Walking through the hallways of your University after hours, you knew that Harry was still here as you had just texted him to see what he was up to. The two of you exchanged numbers after you left his house a couple of weekends ago, and since then, the two of you had gone on a few dates. It was clear not even halfway through the first date that you had made the right decision by giving him a second chance. He was unlike anyone you had ever allowed to take you out. He opened car doors for you. Pulled your chair out at the table. He even made sure that when you were walking down the street next to each other, that you were always on the inside, and he was always on the outside - closest to the cars. Whenever you got around to meeting his parents, you’d have to thank them for raising him so right.
Harry didn’t know that you would be surprising him here tonight, but something had come over you earlier in the day, and you decided that you couldn’t wait any longer to take the next step with him. It was something the two of you had discussed, but after what happened last time, he said he wanted to take things a bit slower. At this point, you thought he was more scared than you were that you would retreat back into your old headspace, and somehow fall into thinking he was using you again.
You had never spoken with Harry in his office at the University, you had only ever talked to him in his classroom, but you were feeling bold. Adjusting yourself to make sure your trench coat was still covering you completely, the sound of your heeled boots clicking against the tiled floor echoed down the hallway before you were approaching his door.
Not wanting to falter now, you lifted your fist and knocked against the wooden surface, and you waited until you heard a muffled ‘come in’.
Fighting off your nerves, you wrapped your hand around the knob and when you walked inside, you watched as Harry moved his head to look around his computer - eyebrows lifting when he saw it was you. “Y/N,” he quickly stood up as you shut the door behind you.
Once he was in front of you, Harry didn’t hold back on pulling you into him immediately. “I wanted to surprise you,” you laughed as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Haven’t seen you in a couple of days.”
“Have you missed me, baby?” Harry smirked before leaning down to press a kiss against your lips.
“Mhmm,” you hummed as you tilted your head to the side, and you quickly let your tongue enter his mouth.
Harry sighed through his nose as he moved the two of you forward so your back was against the door, and he reached down to flick the lock on the knob. His hands gripped to your hips as you arched into him while deepening your kiss even further. It only grew heavier from there, and the next thing you knew, your ankles were crossed against his lower back as he walked you over to his desk. He sat you down on the top of it - knees locked against his hips as you ravished each other’s mouths.
“I have something for you,” you pulled back after a moment, resting your forehead against his.
“Another surprise? I’m more than happy with just having you here.”
“I think you’ll like this one too.”
Your fingers started to undo the buttons of your trench coat once Harry created a bit of distance, however, he didn’t leave the space between your legs. Once your coat was open, you shrugged it off to reveal a mauve pink, lace bodysuit, and you heard the breath that caught in the back of Harry’s throat.
“Y/N,” he whispered as his hands came out to touch you. “I’m…”
“Sit down.”
Harry took another step back, and you lifted your foot to press the heel of your boot against his chest. He stumbled back into his seat before you stood up, only to lower yourself down on your knees between his legs.
“Is this okay?” You asked. “I really want to do this for you. Please let me make you feel good.”
It was only a beat of silence before Harry nodded, and just when you thought he was going to go shy on you, one side of his lips curled up. “Go ahead, honey,” he reached down with one hand to undo the buckle of his belt. “Show me what that pouty mouth can do.”
Hearing him speak to you like that again for the first time since you had initially given in had something inside you light up, and you swatted his hand out of the way so you could pull his belt off completely. It was no time before his briefs and his trousers were down around his ankles - his already hard prick slapping up against his stomach. You dragged your bottom lip between your teeth at the sight of his cock.
“Now I’m angry at you again,” you commented as you looked up into his eyes while wrapping your hand around his shaft.
Harry hissed at the contact - nails digging into the arms of his desk chair. “Why’s that?”
“I’m angry that you didn’t let me have this before. That you’ve been keeping this from me,” you clicked your tongue against your teeth as you shook your head. “We could’ve been having so much fun.” You trailed the tips of your fingers over his beautiful fern tattoos. “I really like these.”
Gathering spit on your tongue, you spat down on his tip, and let it drip down before you started to work your palm over his length. Harry’s hips snapped up subconsciously - causing a cheshire grin to stretch across your lips.
“I guess I didn’t think this all the way through,” you licked at his slit, and you moaned softly at the taste of the precome leaking from him. “I should’ve brought some rope to tie you up. I could keep you from being so squirmy.”
“Sorry,” Harry gasped as you started to kiss down his shaft. “It just feels so good.”
“Don’t apologize. I like it.”
After planting one final soft kiss against his balls, you lifted back up to close your lips down around his tip. You licked at the prominent vein that ran under his head, and you kept your eyes fixed on Harry as you slowly sunk down on him.
“Fuck,” he whined as he reached out to gather your hair into his palm - wrapping it around his hand one time to make sure he kept it out of your face. You heard his breath shallow out as you nuzzled your nose into the line of Harry right below his belly button. “You’re unbelievable, baby.”
You lowered yourself down just a bit further before swallowing around him which caused him to moan out with his eyes now rolling into the back of his head. Spit dripped down his length and started to wet the groomed thatch of hair around the base of his cock. You actually liked giving head, and it had been a while since you had done it, so you knew you were enjoying this almost as much as he was.
Giving your throat a bit of a break, you moved back up to suck on his tip as your hand worked the slick part of him that you couldn’t fit in your mouth. He leaked more onto your tongue and you parted your lips so he could see you licking up every last bit of it.
“Look at you,” Harry’s chest heaved as his eyes were now on you again. “Letting me work your tight little throat.”
You moaned around him as you lowered yourself back down - feeling yourself growing wet against your bodysuit. Bobbing your head up and down, you started working him harder, and you felt Harry’s hips stuttering again.
“Y/N,” his grip on your hair tightened, and he pulled you off his length - making his tip escape your tight lips with a ‘pop’. “I need to be inside of you.”
Nodding, you lifted your hand to wipe the back of it over your mouth as you reached down to your coat on the floor. You dug inside the pocket, and pulled out the condom that you had stashed away before you left your apartment.
“I came prepared, obviously,” you smirked as Harry helped you stand up, and you found yourself, once again, on the top of his desk.
Harry reached down and popped open the buttons on your bodysuit to have your cunt completely exposed, and he ran the tips of his fingers up and down your slit while pecking kisses to your lips. “This is by far the sexiest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
“You mean showing up here, sucking on your cock and letting you take me on top of your desk?”
Smacking his fingertips against your clit, your pelvis jolted out towards Harry before he rubbed circles against it to ease the sting. “So sassy, but still so sweet. How about you slide that rubber on my cock so I can fill you up with it?”
Your hands trembled with anticipation as you ripped the packaging open, and you let your palm fist him a couple more times before rolling the condom down over his already wet length.
Holding each other’s eyes, you guided Harry’s tip to your entrance and he tilted his hips forward just slightly to have it press inside of you. You gasped as your breath started to get siphoned from your lungs while he slowly started to enter you entirely - taking his time and treasuring you.
“Such a snug little thing,” he muttered as he dropped the pad of thumb to rub against your throbbing bud. “Swallowing me right up though, aren’t you?”
Your lips rolled into your mouth, and your teeth bared down against them until Harry was fully inside you. From there, your hands flew up to grip at his biceps - your fingers sinking into the dips of his muscles.
“Harry,” you whimpered, feeling so overwhelmed from how full you felt. “I-”
“I know, baby,” his lips sponged against your temple before he trailed them down to the corner of your lips. “It’s a tight fit, but I’ll get you stretched out.”
“No,” your lips pouted as you spread your legs further to pull him even closer, and you clenched down around him. “I don’t want to. I like it tight.”
Harry grunted at the feeling of your walls closing down on his prick, and he pulled the top of your bodysuit down just enough to have your tits springing free. Looking down, he took in the sight of your naked breasts for the first time - licking over his bottom lip.
“How’d I get so fucking lucky, hm? Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, and she’s wrapped around my cock,” he palmed at your chest before pinching your nipples. “You don’t know how happy I am that you gave me a second chance, Y/N.”
“Just promise me you’re not going to leave me with jello legs after making me come again,” you joked as you grazed your palm against his jawline.
“Never.” Although you were joking, Harry’s voice went serious. “I’m not letting you get away.”
Drawing his hips back, you whined as Harry kept them there for a moment before sinking back in again. It was then he started up a slow pace with your mouths hovering over one another as you stared into each other’s eyes. He was hitting spots inside of you that you didn’t even know existed, and you had hardly been going at it.
“More,” you whimpered. “Want more.”
Harry wrapped an arm around your waist, locking his forearm against your lower back to have you arching a bit, and his other hand rested against the side of your neck as his thrusts became powered with intent. If you wanted more - he’d have no problem giving you more. The only issue was that he knew it was going to be hard for him to last with how long he had gone without, but he would try to give it to you as long as possible.
“Is that it? Is that more?”
“Yes,” you moaned loudly. “Yes, Harry. Yes.”
He shushed you as he pressed the pad of his thumb against your mouth. “Careful, baby. I know it’s late here, but I might not be the only one still around.”
Separating your lips, you let his digit land against your tongue, and you closed down around it to keep yourself quiet. Harry let out a laugh of disbelief as he stared down at you, and he shook his head.
“Fucking hell,” his hips snapped against yours, and if his desk wasn’t bolted to the ground, you were sure it would be halfway across the room by now. “You like that?”
You nodded as you didn’t cower away from his gaze, and you started to lift your hips to meet his thrusts - that patch of hair surrounding his cock that you had wetted earlier with your spit hitting against your clit so perfectly. Reaching forward, you started to undo the buttons of Harry’s dress shirt, letting it open completely and your eyes widened as the sight of the large butterfly tattooed on his abdomen. You had seen those swallows so they weren’t a surprise, but the one in the center of his torso stunned you a bit.
He was so beautiful. So toned. It blew your mind that he was keeping all of this hidden underneath his dress clothes. You could tell that he was fit, but seeing him practically naked had you realizing just how muscular he was.
As you felt your orgasm approaching, the tips of your teeth clamped down on his thumb, and you fought to keep your eyes open.
“About to come?” Harry asked, and you nodded in response. “Let’s go, honey. Soak me.”
It was like his words truly commanded it, and you felt your climax wash over you. You sighed around his thumb before closing your eyes and letting your lips part. It felt like you could hardly hold yourself up at this point, but you wanted to keep giving it back to Harry so that you could feel him finish for the first time too.
Once Harry rode you through your orgasm completely, you opened your eyes again, and you ran your palms up and down bare chest. “It’s your turn now.”
Locking in, you met his thrusts even more than you were before, and this time, you shoved your thumb into his mouth instead. His eyes widened a bit, but then you saw his signature smirk peeking through as he started to suck on it - just as you had his a few moments ago.
“Come on, Harry.”
Playing a bit dirty, you clenched around him, and that was it for him. He groaned as white ropes of pleasure filled the condom while he continued to pump into you before he collapsed against your chest. You pulled your thumb from his mouth so that you could wrap your arms around him - keeping him close to you.
“That was so good,” you praised him, pressing kisses against his cheek. “Oh my god.”
Harry lifted up after a minute and held your face in his hands before pulling you into a passionate kiss. Your heart swelled as you started to tingle even more than you were from your orgasm, and once you pulled away, small giggles escaped your mouth.
“Y/N,” his nose bumped against the tip of yours. “I want you. We can be smart about this, and technically you’re no longer my student so we’re not crossing lines now, but we still have to be careful.”
“I know. I want you too, Harry. It’s hard to explain how I feel around you, but I just…I want to be around you all the time. That’s why I showed up tonight. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
The smile that crossed his features caused one to press onto your lips as well, and the two of you shared a small fit of laughter.
“So, we’re doing this?” You asked.
“Yeah, honey,” Harry nodded as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “We’re doing this.”
✵ • ✵ • ✵ • ✵
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A/N: soooo you guys were just as horny for a part 2 to this story as i was so here we are, giving in to the temptation. disclaimer, i know their behavior is giving red flag energy but lets just put that aside for the sake of the story now lol
WORD COUNT: 3.8k
WARNING: sexual content, age gap, student-professor relationship
SUMMARY: Harry has been trying his best to forget what happened with Y/N, he is set on never making the same mistake, but it seems like fate has different plans for him.
PART 1 | MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!
That skirt. That goddamned skirt. That’s gonna be the death of Harry.
And also the fact that she went back to that asshole.
Sitting in the busy school cafeteria Harry has zoned out of the conversation at the table a long time ago, precisely when he saw Y/N stroll in wearing that short skirt with that dickhead she should have ditched already or better, she shouldn’t have even dated him in the first place. But now they are moving in the line with their group of friends and he has his hand on her waist and it keeps inching lower, just a few more inches and his hand could be slipping under her skir–
“Harry? Hello?”
Stella catches his attention and he is forced to move his focus back to his colleagues at the table.
“Huh? Sorry, what did you say?” He clears his throat and keeps his eyes on his half-eaten sandwich in front of him.
“What’s up with you? You haven’t been your usual self lately.”
“Just… tired. I’m behind with my research and have a bunch of papers to grade before winter break.”
“The joys of being a teacher,” Stella chuckles. “Don’t worry, it’ll get better with time.”
“Really?”
“No,” she smirks at him. “But you’ll care less.”
She soon returns to the conversation at the table and Harry finds himself looking for Y/N again. There’s no trace of her in the line, but he is quick to spot her at a table across the dining hall, sitting beside Dickhead who has an arm around her neck, keeping her close as he wants everyone to know that they are together.
And it irks Harry way more than it probably should.
It’s been a little over a week since Stella’s Christmas party and also that very heated and very wrong kiss he shared with Y/N. That weekend was like hell, he kept beating himself over and over about it, cursing himself out for being so stupid and reckless. He still has no idea what came over him that let him make out with a student, but he knew one thing for sure: it couldn’t happen again.
So when Y/N walked into the classroom before his first lecture early on monday he didn’t even let her speak before he got to the point.
“It shouldn’t have happened. I’m so sorry for it, but I can’t undo it now. I suggest let’s pretend nothing happened, it’s for the absolute best. No one can know about it and it will never happen again.”
She seemed taken aback by his outburst, but after a bit of hesitation she nodded.
“Okay. Nothing happened. It must have been the wine.”
“Yes,” he agreed right away. “We both drank more than we should have and made a mistake.”
She flinched at his last word, but didn’t protest, only nodded, holding her textbooks tighter to her chest. She looked so sad, even disappointed that Harry almost wanted to take back what he just said, but he knew he couldn’t.
“Are you… okay?” he dared to ask, but when she looked at him again, her eyes told nothing.
“I’m fine. I’ll see you in class, professor.”
And she was out of the classroom before he could say another word. In class she sat in the back and not even once did she look at him. He knows, because he kept looking at her.
He’s been trying his best to get her out of his head, but with not much luck. Not when all he can think about is how soft her lips felt against his, how insanely good she tasted mixed with the coldness of the night, how amazingly she fit into his palm, the curve of her neck, back, waist and hips… and how badly he wants to experience it again even though it’s the worst possible idea.
Harry thinks he is going insane. Genuinely.
He’s been burying himself into work, but his focus has been all over the place, so it’s been more like a waste of time. He is one of the last ones in the building today as well. Most professors left a long time ago, but the lights in Harry’s tiny office are still on as he is hunched over a stack of papers. When he has to read over the same line for the twentieth time he drops his pen with a tired groan and leans back in his chair. He takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes roughly, until he is practically seeing stars.
“Fuck,” he huffs, staring at the papers that are still waiting to be graded. Checking the time on his phone he is surprised to see that it’s already past seven.
He stands from his chair and steps to the window. The campus looks quiet at this time, only a few students are walking towards the dorm that’s next to the literature department’s building. It’s a wednesday night, the semester ends next week so some lucky students who have no more exams left in the year have already left for the holidays. Harry will be going home right before Christmas, he plans to use those few days of the break to work on his research in peace.
From his window he sees part of the parking lot next to the dorm, it’s quite dark there, he almost doesn’t notice the figures sitting in the car closest to him, but a few heartbeats later realization hits him.
It’s Y/N and the dickhead.
They are pretty far, but Harry can tell that they are in a heated fight, judging from how Y/N is gesticulating. Obviously he can’t hear them, but if he had to guess he would say she is shouting, from what he can see.
For a moment he tells him to just ignore the scene, it’s none of anyone else’s business, let alone his. But when he sees the asshole slap his hands against the wheel several times, making Y/N jump, Harry is moving before he could second guess his actions.
He practically sprints down that stairs, already trying to figure out how he’ll interject without appearing like a creep, but he forgets all his plans when he is marching towards the parking lot and sees the scene unfold from up close.
At some point they must have gotten out of the car, because Harry catches the dickhead getting back into the driving seat, Y/N is crying and tries to stop him from shutting the door, but he swings it with such force that she stumbles forward, holding onto the handle. When Harry sees her almost fall to the asphalt he starts running, just as the car comes to life and he drives away so fast, he almost runs over Y/N’s feet.
“Fuck you, Charlie! Fuck you!” She screams after the car, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Hey, hey, hey!” Harry rushes over to her, grabs her by her shoulders and turns her away from the direction of the car. “Hey, what happened?”
She is gasping for air from the crying as she wraps her arms around her, those beautiful eyes that are usually filled with curiosity are now full of confusion and hurt.
“Y/N, look at me,” he begs and she hiccups a few times before she finally looks him in the eyes.
“H-Harry?”
He ignores how good it feels to hear her call him by his first name again and tries to focus on the situation.
“Yeah. Let’s get inside, okay? It’s freezing cold.”
She nods and lets him steer her towards the building and up to his office. By the time she sits in the old armchair in the corner of his office she has stopped sobbing, but her expression looks just as miserable as before.
“I’ll make you a tea. Do you like tea?” he asks, stepping over to the tiny side table where he keeps his kettle and tiny tea collection with two mugs. She nods and he is quick to turn on the kettle. He grabs a chamomile filter and drops it into one of the mugs and while the water boils he hands her a box of tissues that she accepts with a quietly murmured thank you.
When the tea is done he hands her the mug and sits in his chair, unsure what to say. He definitely did not plan to have her in his office anytime soon and definitely not like this.
“Go on, lecture me about being with him,” she says at last, staring into the mug in her hands.
“I wasn’t planning on it.”
“But you’d be right.” She looks up at him, eyes still red from the crying.
“Why did you go back to him?” he softly asks, not wanting to make her feel even worse.
“I don’t know,” she shrugs, looking away again. “He could be convincing, I guess.”
“Hope you won’t believe him after this.”
“No,” she chuckles bitterly before taking a sip from the tea, leaning back in the armchair. “Not even the sex will convince me to go back to him.”
Harry’s muscles jump at her words. Not because he is such a prude, but because instantly he is thinking about sex… and her… and his body reacts involuntarily. Clearing his throat he crosses his legs and looks anywhere but at her.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” she chuckles softly, but she doesn’t seem sorry at all.
“No, I… um…” Harry has no idea what to say. This feels like such an impossible situation, he is definitely walking on eggshells here and the fact that he is semi-hard does not help his case.
While he is looking for the right words she places her mug to his desk and crosses her legs, a curious look playing in her eyes as she is looking at him. She appears calm and confident suddenly, like she wasn’t sobbing ten minutes ago.
“I lied,” she then speaks up.
“About what?”
“I know why I went back to him.”
“Oh. Okay, why did you?”
She holds his gaze for one… two… three seconds before her lips part, then she hesitates for one more moment before answering.
“Because I couldn’t go to you.”
A shiver runs down his spine at her words, his body is betraying him already, but he hangs onto the last bit of his rationality.
“Y/N, don’t.”
“Don’t what? Don’t tell the truth?”
“We agreed that we are not talking about it again.”
“I’m not talking about that night. I’m talking about how badly I’ve been wanting you, but knowing I can’t have you I went back to Charlie even though I knew I shouldn’t have.”
“Y/N…” His mouth is dry and he feels ridiculously hot even though the heating hasn’t been working too well lately in his office. He is clawing at the arms of his chair, trying to keep the remains of his cool, though it feels like he is hanging on a thread.
“I won’t do anything about it, don’t worry. And I won’t bring it up again.” She sounds different this time, the confidence has turned into what feels like disappointment and it lurches something in Harry’s gut.
Standing she smoothes her clothes before looking at Harry, a tiny sliver of expectancy glistening in her eyes.
“Thanks for the tea. I better get going.”
She is already moving towards the door when Harry jumps to his feet, entirely lost about what to think, do or say. He strides after her and just when she is about to reach for the knob, he grabs her other hand, stopping her mid action.
But he has no idea why he just did that. His rationality is screaming at him, but with each passing moment he spends holding her hand, the noise gets farther and farther away until it’s lost somewhere in the back of his mind.
Slowly, she turns her head, eyes taking in the sight of their touching hands before her gaze meets his. He instantly stumbles back, letting go of her like she was on fire, but she doesn’t seem surprised. Instead, she turns around and just stands there, with a calm, but determined look on her face.
“Careful professor,” she then speaks up. “I might take your actions as a hint.”
“A hint…” he breathes out, almost mesmerized with her, he is convinced she’s put a spell on him, because he can’t move or think straight, he just keeps staring at her.
“Yes, a hint,” she nods shortly. “That you want me just as much as I want you.”
He swallows down a moan that almost slips through his lips at her words. His whole body is burning for her, palms sweating and itching to touch her and he can almost taste her on his tongue again, desperate to pick up from where they left off not long ago.
The tiniest smirk tugs on the corners of her mouth when she sees just how much he is struggling and she takes it as her queue to push her luck just a bit further. She takes a step closer to him, but still leaves some space between them, wanting him to close those last inches.
“You know you can have me.” She cocks her head to the side, blinking up at him innocently. “Right here, on your desk or in that armchair. I want to be your good girl and take whatever you give me.”
“Stop it,” he manages to breathe out, but all his strength is gone, it sounds more like a plea rather than an order.
“What if I don’t?” she sassily questions. “Will you punish me?”
Harry whimpers. They both know he is close to breaking and she is not stepping down now and she’s determined to push him over the edge. Slowly she reaches up, drags a finger across her lips before moving then down, tugging at her shirt at her chest, revealing more of the exposed skin there, then she starts playing with the top button, all while keeping her eyes focused on him. He sucks on his breath, his gaze keeps switching between her eyes and what her fingers are doing.
Then it pops open, revealing the delicious swell of her breasts and a bit of the lacy bra as well and he knows he is gone.
“Close the curtain,” he simply orders and a sudden rush of excitement washes over her as she quickly moves across the room, drawing the curtains on the window and turning around she is expecting him to be in the same spot, but to her surprise he is right there and before she could say a word, his lips crash down on hers with such force she would have fallen back if he didn’t already have an arm around her waist.
His other hand is quick to find its way to her throat first, then to her jaw, angling her head perfectly so he can devour her.
He spins them around and she gasps when her ass meets the edge of his desk, still kissing her he pushes forward, blindly tossing everything on the desk aside to make room, something clatters as it falls to the ground but neither of them cares to even look. His hands are on the back of her legs and he helps her up until she is sitting on top of the desk.
She eagerly opens her thighs and circles her legs around his hips, pulling him closer and when she feels just how hard he already is, pushing against her clothed center, she can’t help but moan at the sensation.
“It’s a one time thing,” he pants when her fingers start to work on his shirt and his hands find the button of her jeans.
“Sure,” she breathes out smiling.
“Just to get it out of our system.”
“Of course,” she nods eagerly, and a moment later she is tugging his shirt off his shoulders.
Buttons come undone, clothes are thrown across the room and soon enough all of his focus is on her naked chest, his hands exploring the tender, heated skin before his head dips down and his mouth meets her hardened nipples.
“Oh fuck,” she moans, head falling back as she has an arm around his shoulders, the other one planted behind her on the desk. All while his hands are tugging down her jeans, finally giving him the chance to touch her inner thighs, exploring the warmth and softness he’s been fantasizing about for so long.
He gently bites on one of her nipples, making her back arch, burying his face between her breasts before he leans back to get rid of her jeans. She has a moment to admire his naked torso, all the tattoos he’s been hiding under his clothes, his pants are hanging around his knees and his erection is throbbing through the fabric of his underwear. She can’t help but smile at the sight, it’s surely one she’ll remember forever.
When her jeans are discarded on the floor he plants his hands on her thighs and pushes them wide open, revealing her drenched panties. He brings his thumb over the wet fabric, lazily drags it over her clit, making her tremble under his touch. Then keeping eye contact with her he pulls his chair under him, sits down and rolls closer so his face is perfectly lined up with her. With his eyes still locked on hers, he leans forward, moves her panties to the side and places a sloppy, open mouthed kiss to her throbbing clit, making her moan so loud, he digs his fingers into her thighs pulling back.
“You need to be quiet,” he warns her and she just eagerly nods, watching him take her underwear off completely and go back to where he was a moment ago.
Harry drinks up her taste, he licks, kisses and sucks on the right spots, making her see stars as her orgasm is building up. When she feels two of his fingers slip into her she grabs a handful of his hair, tugging on it.
But right when she is about to tip over the edge he pulls back, leaving her in a heaving mess. Reaching into one of his drawers he grabs a condom and standing up he watches her lying on his desk, chest rapidly rising and falling while he rolls the condom on.
To his surprise, she gets up and jumps off the desk, taking the initiative by pushing him down back into the chair and straddling his lap. His hands are quick to move to her ass as his cock wedges between her drenched folds. He hisses when she starts rolling her hips, making them both even more feral for what’s about to come.
She leans forward and kisses him, her hand reaching down between them until it finds his cock. She gives him a few lazy strokes to which he hums lowly into her mouth. Then she stops her kisses, lips still brushing against his, eyes meeting again as she lifts herself up just enough to angle him underneath her and then slowly she eases down, letting him enter her inch by inch until she is filled entirely. She gasps at the feeling of her walls stretching around him and they both stop for a few moments, just savoring how perfectly they fit together.
She plants both her hands to the base of his neck, kisses him again and starts moving her hips.
“Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good,” he groans, locking his arms around her, fingers digging into her naked back and side as she starts to slowly pick up her pace, bouncing on him.
When he starts thrusting upwards, meeting her movements, her head rolls back from how deep she feels him inside her, his tip reaching the perfect spot.
“Yes, right there!” she gasps as he buries his head in her neck, kissing and sucking on the soft skin while keeping his rhythm. “I’m so close,” she breathes out, her hands raking through his messy hair.
Wanting even more friction she adjusts herself and then starts moving faster and rougher, aching for the release. She looks down, her eyes meet his gaze and she just knows he is as close as she is.
“Harry,” she moans and hearing his name fall from her lips is what pushes him over the edge.
Grunting, his thrusts get rougher and fall out of their fast pace, he pushes into her over and over again as he fills the condom and watching him fall apart helps her let go as well. He feels her walls tighten around him while he is still riding out the afterwaves of his own orgasm, her mouth hangs open, nails digging into his shoulders so harshly they surely leave marks.
Then they both slowly come off their high and she leans forward, capturing his lips in a much softer kiss than the ones they’ve shared just minutes ago. He gladly returns, their lips melt together and his fingers gently roam her naked back while he is still inside her.
They’re quiet when she moves off him and grabs a few tissues to clean herself up while he discards the condom. The clothes are picked up from the floor one by one and a sense of unsureness settles between them as they both get dressed.
She was the only thing on his mind just five minutes ago, but now that the sex haze is gone, his thoughts start racing. What did he do? What will happen now? This shouldn’t have happened but still, he wants to do it again and again and again.
As if she knew he was panicking inside, she steps to him, takes his face in her hands and pulls him into a long, passionate kiss that instantly makes him forget about everything else.
“Don’t overthink it,” she whispers against his lips. “We’re adults.”
“I’m your teacher,” he hums.
“The semester is almost over. Grade my last paper and we’re done,” she simply says with very little care about his current status. But he is not that sold on it just yet, hesitation and worry is all over his face. “Did you not want it?”
“You know how much I wanted it,” he admits defeatedly.
“Great. I wanted it too. And I want it again. So I’ll come by tomorrow again. You’ll bend me over that desk after I had your cock in my mouth, then tell me what grade I’m getting for the semester and we do it again after that.”
He is already feeling himself getting hard again. Deep down he knows he should say no, but he has no will left to fight with himself anymore. So all he does is nod and then kiss her.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, professor.” She grabs her coat from the floor and then walks out of his office like nothing happened.
Harry falls into his chair and assesses the mess on and around his desk, staring at the spot where she was sitting not long ago. He knows he is making his biggest mistake ever, but sinning has never felt this good.
And right now he is willing to take this risk.
Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!
A/N: it's been like 6 months since i last posted something and honestly, i haven't even written anything, things are very shitty these days but i felt the motivation to write this quickly after watching 'tell me lies' and 'rivals' these past weeks so here we go! if student-prof type of fics are not your thing then don't read it
WORD COUNT: 2.6k
WARNING: age gap, student-professor relationship
SUMMARY: Harry is very strict about staying away from students as a young and handsome professor, but there is one person he can't get out of his head and a Christmas party brings an unexpected turn.
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Harry hates these type of parties, mostly because he can’t imagine inviting dozens of students into his home, his private space, have the roam around and spend an entire evening with them, talking and pretending like they aren’t just trying to get a better grade at the end of the semester with their too friendly behavior. Or, in his case, some girls try to push the boundaries and flirt with him, hoping to hook up with him.
He is not stupid. He has heard students whisper about him several times, he notices the heart eyes when he is talking in class and he has gotten several phone numbers on papers since he started his PHD studies and started teaching last year. His friends teased him about being the heartthrob of the faculty, but he didn’t think it would actually happen and to this extent. To avoid any possible scandals, not that he planned to make any, he has put on quite a rigid mask towards the students to scare them off from even trying, though that hasn’t stopped some of them from wanting to shoot their shot.
He wouldn’t have come to this party, he would rather be home and continue his research that’s still not even close to being done, but Professor Bradford, or Stella as she requests Harry to call her, is the only person he gets along with in the faculty. She is 18 years older than Harry, but still younger than the rest of the old men who have been teaching here since probably before the declaration of independence was signed. Those men are the reason younger people don’t like classic literature anymore, with their outdated ways of teaching and unwillingness to bring something modern into their lectures they are scaring the new generations away. But not Stella. She is one of the reasons Harry went into his PHD and now he gets to work with her. He couldn’t just reject her invitation for her annual Christmas Party she holds for her students and some colleagues.
Now he is standing by the wall, drinking mulled wine and just gritting his teeth, trying to calculate how early is too early to leave. A couple of girls have already tried to chat him up, they like to circle him, leave him almost no room to escape and then make him talk about school stuff, but then they slyly bring up personal things, hoping to break his usual character, but he sees through them always.
Harry’s best friend, Niall always teases him that he should just give in and have fun with one of them. His morals are a lot looser than Harry’s, that’s for sure.
Just as he is about to look for the bathroom, not to use it but to hide for a bit, another group of girls spots him and he can already feel his skin crawling as they approach him from down the hallway. He is quick to assess the situation, but he realizes he has no chance of fleeing before they reach him.
“Profesor! So good to see you here!”
And here we go.
It goes the same, they are extremely nice and inquiring about his plans for the next semester and then suddenly they are talking about summer and Harry knows they are moments away from asking what he’ll be doing once the school year is over. One of the girls is talking about going to Italy on a yacht and the others chime in with their own ridiculously over the top plans while Harry is avoiding to even look at them, his eyes roam around the other guests.
That’s when he sees her.
Just down the hall he can peek into the kitchen and there she is, with a boy Harry assumes to be her boyfriend. He’s seen them around campus the past few weeks, he even waited for her after Harry’s class and saw them walk away together as he fought the way his stomach churned every time.
Since the moment she walked into his class at the beginning of the semester Harry has been feeling like he is losing his mind. Whether it be the way she laughs with her friends before class or focuses with undivided attention as Harry explains something by the board, or says hello every time she passes him in the cafeteria, Harry can’t stop thinking about her for days after even though he knows such feelings should be banned from his mind when it comes to a student. Every time he catches himself thinking about her he wants to throw himself out the window, but he still can’t fight it. There’s something in her that draws him in and swallows him whole and it’s not just the looks. Unlike a lot of students who take his classes for easy credits or to drool after him, she is there to learn as much as she can and she’s had the most brilliant thoughts on certain subjects Harry has ever encountered, making him almost jealous he wasn’t the one to think about them.
She is… unmatched. And forbidden, but impossible to ignore. She’s been his vice for months.
From where he stands it appears she is having a fight with said boyfriend, her always cheerful expression is now rather upset and confused while the boy seems to be over the conversation, almost irritated by her, dismissed. Harry tries to appear not too obvious about watching them, but he is also way too fixated on her to ignore what’s happening just down the hallway.
He glances away just for a few seconds, but the next time he looks back he sees the boy stomping away, irritated, while she is left there, pulling on her coat before disappearing through the backdoor, swallowed by the darkness of the unlit back terrace.
And before Harry could stop himself, he is already moving.
“Excuse me girl,” he mumbles disorientedly as he slips out of the small circle.
He places his glass to a nearby table and then grabs his own coat from the wardrobe in the hallway before making his way outside. After her.
The moment he steps out into the cold a short sense of realization washes over him that he definitely shouldn’t be here, that he is crossing a line, but then another voice in his head tunes it out, convincing him that he is just making sure she is okay and there’s nothing wrong with that.
Stopping by the door his gaze rakes through the terrace, but he doesn’t see her, until she spots her slouched form sitting on the bottom of the stairs leading out to the lawn. He hears her sniffling, but she hasn’t acknowledged his presence yet, if she noticed it at all. There’s a couple of moments of hesitation on his end, he can hear the rational side of him screaming somewhere in the back of his mind, telling him to turn around and just walk back inside, yet he still finds himself moving towards him and then that voice is silenced.
“Everything alright?” Harry asks from the top of the stairs, but he startles her so much that she jumps to her feet and backs away a few feet. That’s when he sees her tearful eyes and red nose.
“S-Sorry, I don’t–”
“Hey, it’s all good. You didn’t do anything wrong. Just checking in.”
She squints her eyes at him and that’s when he realizes she must not even see his face since the light is coming right behind him. So he walks down the stairs and then finally his face is lit and realization settles in her eyes.
“Oh, Professor Styles. Hi.”
“Hello Y/N. Are you okay?” he asks again, to which she just chuckles bitterly.
He can’t miss that even with tears running down her cheeks and her eyelashes stuck together, she looks so fucking beautiful it baffles him. He has to fight the urge to reach out and touch her tear-soaked cheeks.
“Um, yeah, everything is… perfect,” she scoffs, reaching into her pockets, probably looking for tissues, but finding none so Harry grabs one from his inner pocket, handing it over to her, her fingers brushing against his for the shortest second as she takes it and then it’s over, but his skin keeps tingling.
“Thanks,” she mumbles before drying her face as much as she can. “I’m good. Just…” She looks at him and changes her mind. “Ah, wouldn’t want to bore you with my nonsense personal drama.”
“Drama is never boring, have you learned nothing in my class?” he jokes and it actually makes her laugh.
“This drama is not worthy of being taught in class though.”
“I bet some of the big names thought the same thing upon writing what we read in class these days.”
“So you’re saying I should write about how my boyfriend is fed up with me because I told him something he did hurt me?”
“That sounds like something I bet a lot of people would want to read about,” he smiles and when she mirrors it, he can feel his chest expanding. Somewhere way too deep in his mind an alarm goes off, but it quickly becomes one with the void and all he can think about is her. “Actually I can think of a few great pieces that are about similar topics.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, believe it or not, you’re not the first one to experience this.”
The way she looks at him is setting him on fire. The mixture of sadness, tiredness and gratitude towards his attempt to cheer her up is still making her glow in a way Harry has never seen before on any woman.
“Do you mind analyzing one for me right now?”
“I’d be happy to.”
The party is completely tuned out for the two of them. First they actually talk about a novel, but soon it turns into sharing their favorite books and authors, their guilty pleasure reads, recommendations for each other and even more personal bits Harry would never share with a student, but Y/N is the exception.
They have no idea how much time passes as they stand outside and Harry ignores how the cold starts to sting his fingertips even in his pockets, because he knows that if they go inside this bubble will pop and he is too selfish to let that happen just yet.
When there’s a short silence Harry notices that she is probably slipping back into what happened earlier and when she looks at him again he already knows she is about to share.
“I gave him a chance and explicitly told him not to fuck me over, because I can’t deal with that again. But all he has been doing is manipulating to believe that I’m always in the wrong.”
“It’s impossible for you to always be in the wrong.”
“I know. Well, part of me knows, but then I always go back to thinking that he is right, I must have messed up something.”
“That just proves that you have self-criticism, that you don’t just think everything you do is perfect.”
She sighs and looks away, her gaze distant as she battles herself inside her head, a feeling Harry knows very well, unfortunately. It doesn’t sit right with him that she is visibly struggling because of an immature guy’s untreated problems. She deserves so much more, but how can he tell that without crossing a line?
“Give it some time and you’ll see it clearer. Use your critical thinking on his actions as well, not just yours and don’t settle for less than your worth.”
“You think I did that?” she asks, eyes jumping back to meet his gaze. “You think I settled for less than my worth?”
There’s more behind her eyes than the words she said out loud and he is torn, because he can feel himself being pulled in more than ever, like she just opened the door the slightest and he has the chance to slip in. It’s the first time he senses something on her part and after all the yearning he is eager to take the chance.
“I think you deserve a lot more, Y/N. You’re brilliant, bright and give so much to others, you should get the same amount if not more back. If someone can’t see that, then they don’t deserve you.”
For a second he wishes he didn’t say a thing, he regrets crossing the line and he fears her reaction, but then…
Then he forgets everything. Because she is kissing him.
It happens fast, one moment she is staring up at him with doe eyes, the next her lips are crashing against his, her hands grabbing onto the lapels of his coat. He barely recovers from the shock when she is already pulling away.
“I-I’m so sorry, I d-didn’t mean to, I just—Oh my Go–”
Her stammering is quickly cut short when he kisses her, his hands holding her jaw to angle her face perfectly and while her kiss was closed, rushed and panicked, this one is different. He is quick to beg for her to open her lips so he can explore as much of her as humanly possible, he is letting all the passions loose that he’s been locking up these past months and when she returns it just as eagerly it just pushes him even further.
They inch back to the wall of the house and when he pins her against it a moan slips past her swollen lips, completely maddening him.
“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathes against her lips, kissing her jawline, savoring the sweet taste of her skin that’s supposed to be cold, but it’s actually burning. For him.
He keeps one hand on the side of her neck, the other one digs into her hip through her coat and she keeps pushing against him, while her hands wander under his coat, they are on his waist, back and when they move to his lower stomach, brushing against his belt, something snaps inside him.
But before he could completely lose his mind the backdoor opens and he quickly sobers up, pulling her farther away from the corner so they can’t be seen.
“...and that was actually crazy,” a girl speaks up, oblivious to how Harry has Y/N pinned against the wall just a few feet away. They are both breathing heavily, but she has her face buried in his shoulder while he covers his mouth with a hand, adrenaline racing through his veins.
“Ah shit, I’m out of cigarettes,” another girl says.
“Mm let’s get out of here then. I think Max said they are having a little party as well.”
“Okay.”
Then the door opens again and the voices disappear, but reality hits Harry hard in the head.
He slowly pulls back, enough to look at her face and when he sees her swollen lips and slightly smeared mascara he almost combusts.
Because he wants nothing more than to take her, right here and then everywhere else in the world, but he also realizes what he just did and this time his rational side wins.
“Fuck,” he gasps as he jumps back, cupping a hand over his mouth.
“I wanted it–”
“Y/N, stop!” he cuts her off. “Fuck, this was a mistake.”
“But I wanted it! You didn’t–”
“I said stop!” he barks and she shuts her mouth right away. “This shouldn’t have happened.”
And before she could protest again or worse, kiss him again, he is already storming back inside, across the house towards the front door.
“Harry! I haven’t seen you all night!” Stella catches him, but he just wants to get as far away from this house and from Y/N as possible.
“I’m sorry, I need to go. I’ll talk to you later,” is all he manages to say before he is already out the door.
Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!
a/n: ahhh! thank you so much for the love you showed TLS! i already had more planned for the story, but all your comments motivated me to do this part 2! it’s an emotional one so brace yourselves! further in the chapter i placed the song that inspired the title and i listened to it while writing so i suggest you do the same!
pairing: professor!Harry x Reader
warning: sexual content
word count: 12.7k
masterlist
You walk down the familiar hallway texting back Eden that you are not spending the night at home again.
Eden: You really need to tell me about the dick that keeps you so busy these days.
Y/N: I never said a thing about any dick.
Eden: Oh please, you surely got yourself a rebound after Harry, you can’t tell me otherwise.
Y/N: Don’t you get a rebound when you broke up with someone? I was never together with Harry, so it doesn’t make sense.
Eden: You had a thing!! Okay, whatever. Keep your little secrets, I guess it’s fine…
Y/N: Love you!
Chuckling to yourself you put the phone away and stop at the door you know all too well, knocking two times before you open it and poke your head inside.
Harry is sitting at his desk, his reading glasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose as he is vigorously scribbling something down into his notebook. He lifts his head at your arrival and you shut the door closed behind you.
“Hello, professor,” you smile at him teasingly, walking around his desk as he pushes himself back a little so you can sit on his lap, pecking his lips gently.
“Hey, done for the day?” he asks, his fingers tenderly stroking your thighs over the fabric of your jeans.
“Yeah. We can leave if you’re done,” you nod.
“Just a few more minutes, alright?”
“Sure,” you nod, standing up from his lap so he can finish his work while you sit on the little loveseat he has in the corner, right under the window.
It’s been six weeks since New Year’s Eve, the new semester has officially started, you’re working your way towards your degree as this is officially your last semester, but what’s more important that you and Harry have been a couple for six weeks following the heated actions of New Year’s Eve.
a/n: oh this one is a long boi and might not be the end??? i’ve been working on this fic for days and i have an idea for a possible second part, but i wrote this one so it has a fulfilling ending so it can stand as a oneshot as well! i barely just started working on the sequel, we’ll se how it’ll turn out, maybe it goes to shit lmao but whatever, it’s still a nice and whole story without a second part! this is my V-day gift to you all, have this nice professor!harry fic as if it was a box of chocolate! 🍓 🍫 🍬
special thanks to @pastequeharry who put up with my constant rambling and whining while i was writing this, you are a hero, his is dedicated to you!!
pairing: professor!Harry x Reader
warning: sexual content, abusing relationship, it’s got smut, angst, lot’s of banter and all that jazz!
word count: 21.4k
masterlist
There’s just a handful of things to know about Professor Harry Styles and that’s because of one of those very few known facts, the first one being that he is a highly private person. He rarely talks about himself or any aspects of his life, he always makes sure to keep it as professional as possible whenever he is teaching.
Second, he is easily the smartest professor to ever walk on campus, but he doesn’t like to brag about it. You never catch him showing off how much he knows, how big of a genius he is, you’ll just start to realize from the way he teaches and approaches certain topics, how he interacts with others and tries to pass his knowledge down to his students. He is brilliant and he should have all the credits for it, yet he still chooses to keep it to himself.
Third, and it’s the most well-known fact because to see this you just need to have a pair of eyes, he is undeniably the most handsome man to ever teach or if you’re being more precise, walk the hallways of the university. No football crazy, alcoholic fratboy or dreamy looking indie guy from the library can live up to what Professor Harry Styles is. With a face clearly carved by the angels, a nicely built but not too muscular frame, and occasionally displayed tattooed arm that makes you wonder what other artworks his stylish outfits are hiding, there’s no man like him and every female on campus agrees with that.
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