Summary: Harry wakes you up in the morning with something on his mind…though he’s going to take awhile to get to it.
Words: 1.7k
Warnings: smut, edging, use of toys, fem!reader, denial of orgasm, praise kink, bit of dom!h
"Fuck." You moaned, drawing out the end of the word, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your knees were being held against your chest, not by you, your arms were too weak at this point to do anything but clutch the sheets around you.
You didn't plan on being in this situation in the early hours of the morning, but you woke up with lips grazing your neck, and a cuddly Harry clinging onto you, you knew he had something on his mind.
"M'gonna cum, Harry." You breathlessly moaned out, body squirming and writhing.
He continued to slowly lap at your puffy, slick core, which he had been doing for the past thirty minutes. He claimed the slow movements were for you, but you knew they were for him. He loved watching you squirm and whine out, knowing he was going to take a long time to get you to your orgasm.
Harry pulled away without warning, the sudden absence of his tongue making you gasp in frustrated confusion. Your thighs clenched instinctively, chasing the heat that had vanished too soon. His fingers, which had been holding you open so perfectly, now trailed up your stomach with deliberate slowness, leaving goosebumps on your arms.
"Harry," You whined, hips bucking against the air. "What the fuck?"
"We're going to wait, sweet girl." His voice was low, almost amused, as he pressed a kiss to your trembling thigh before rising from the bed.
"Harry," You whined in disbelief, propping yourself up on your elbows, watching his bare back disappear into the bathroom. "Where are you going?"
The bathroom door clicked shut behind him, leaving you sprawled across the sheets, thighs still trembling. The faucet turned on and you heard him humming a song, asshole, as if he hadn’t just left you dripping and desperate. You dug your nails into the mattress, resisting the urge to slide your hand between your legs, even as your pulse throbbed there, aching.
The door creaked open again just enough for him to peek out, toothpaste foam smeared at the corners of his mouth. He pointed the toothbrush at you, sternly.
"And if you touch yourself," He said, voice muffled around the toothbrush, "I won’t let you cum. So be a good girl."
You closed your eyes and let your head fall back against the pillows, thighs pressed together in an attempt to relieve the throbbing between them. The sheets were damp beneath you, and you could feel the slickness of your own arousal coating your inner thighs.. Every breath you took was quick, and your fingers held on tighter to the fabric, to keep yourself from touching where you knew you couldn’t right now.
The water in the bathroom continued running, accompanied by the occasional spit of toothpaste into the sink. Your core ached, begging you to relieve it, so you slowly lowered your hand, at first only lightly brushing your cold fingers against your clit. You rubbed slow, featherlight circles around your swollen clit, just enough to send a jolt of pleasure up your spine but nowhere near enough to push you over the edge.
Then…..silence. The water shut off abruptly. Your fingers stopped instantly, heart hammering against your ribs as you waited for the creak of the bathroom door. But nothing came. Just Harry’s quiet chuckle from behind the door, like he knew, like he could fucking sense what you did across the room.
“Tsk tsk,” He murmured, voice dripping with a mock of disappointment.
You held your breath, fingers twitching where they hovered just above your clit…you were so close, so close.....but you forced yourself to pull away at the last second.
The water ran for another agonizing moment before shutting off. Silence. Then, the creak of the bathroom door swung open.
Harry walked back into the room, you didn’t dare look at him. The bed dipped as he climbed onto it, his fingers brushed yours, slow and deliberate, prying your clenched hand away from the sheets. Your pulse leapt into your throat.
"Did you touch yourself?" He asked, voice so gentle it made your stomach churn. The pad of his thumb stroked over your wrist. You could lie…you should lie.
"A little," You whispered. "J-just a little."
Harry’s lips curved into a smile, the kind that made your thighs press tighter together without meaning to. His grip on your wrist tightened just enough to keep you from squirming away as he lifted your fingers to his mouth. The first brush of his tongue against your fingertips sent a shockwave of heat straight to your core, his eyes never leaving yours as he dragged the flat of his tongue along the pads of your fingers, tasting the reminisce of arousal.
"Mmm," He hummed, closing his lips around your middle finger and sucking lightly. The vibration of his voice traveled straight to your clit, and you whimpered, hips jerking involuntarily. "Sweet girl," He murmured, releasing your finger with a soft pop. "Couldn’t even wait five minutes for me, could you?"
His palm pressed against your pussy with a rough, sudden pressure…not a slap, but the flatness of his hand grinding against you, the friction was brutal and perfect. You arched off the bed with a punched-out moan, thighs snapping shut around his wrist instinctively, but Harry didn’t pull away. Instead, he pressed harder, his fingers wide to drag your slickness in circles over your clit, the heel of his hand relentlessly digging into your sensitive folds.
“There you go.” Harry murmured, watching your face twist with overstimulated pleasure as his palm worked slowly. Your hips jerked up into the contact, chasing the pressure, but he adjusted the angle just enough to keep you teetering on the edge. “Fuck, look at you…so fucking pretty when you’re desperate.”
Harry’s palm stilled abruptly, his touch gentling as he smoothed the damp hair from your forehead.
"You okay?" He murmured, his voice sincere, wanting to make sure you were still okay with his antics. You managed a weak nod, your throat too tight to speak, and his lips curved into that slow, knowing smile.
"Don’t worry, honey," He whispered. "I’ll let you cum."
You heard the rattle of the nightstand drawer, the clatter of something plastic being knocked aside. Your breath hitched when his hand reappeared, a pink vibrator in hand. He clicked it on, letting it sit on the lowest setting.
Harry didn’t rush. He dragged the tip of the vibrator down your stomach, until it hovered just above your clit, but not close enough to relieve the ache. You whimpered, hips lifting instinctively, but he tutted, pressing his free hand flat against your abdomen to hold you down.
"Patience"
The vibrator skimmed over your clit so lightly you barely felt it, just a little teasing before Harry yanked it away.
Your breathing stopped for a moment, but he only smirked, quickly setting the vibrator to the highest setting, and placing it back on your clit. The violent buzz made you yelp, back arching as the vibrations punched through your oversensitive nerves.
Then, just as quickly, he dropped it back to low, which left you gasping, thighs shaking with the aftershocks.
"Harry," You begged, voice cracking, fingers scrabbling at the sheets. "Please...please, I want to cum...please."
Harry didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned back, watching you with a smile as he dragged the vibrator down the inside of your thigh.
“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” He admired, voice low and rough. The vibrator dipped between your thighs, the tip brushing against your soaked entrance for half a second before he pulled back, leaving you clenching around nothing.
The vibrator clicked off before Harry tossed it to the side. Your breath hitched, as his fingers replaced the plastic, slowly tracing your soaked folds. His fingers dipped inside you barely an inch, just enough to make your walls flutter around him, before exiting. Again. Again. He purposely avoided direct pressure on your g-spot, teasing but never giving you what you needed.
He was now fully leaning over you, his other hand feeling your body up, while his lips caressed your entire neck.
“Fuck,” He muttered, lips skimming up your neck. You clenched onto his bicep with one armand lightly bit down on the shoulder in front of you. “You wanna mark me up, sweet girl? Gonna make sure everyone knows who I belong to?”
You couldn’t answer him, your mind was too foggy, so you just let out another moan. Harry chuckled, low and rough, his lips trailing down to your pulse point.
"Okay, sweetheart. You've been so fucking good for me." He grabbed the vibrator he threw to the side. This time, he didn’t tease. "You can cum."
He continued to finger you, this time hitting your g-spot fast and hard, causing you to uncontrollably scream out and writhe in pleasure. The vibrator pressed against your clit on the highest setting, with a similar pressure.
“Harry…Harry, fuck-” Your voice cracked, back arching off the mattress as the pleasure surged through your veins. Your nails dug into his bicep, hard enough to leave indents in his skin, but he didn’t flinch. He just watched you with strong intent, as your body tensed and squirmed.
Your eyes stayed tightly shut as your orgasm ripped through you with a force that left your body aching. A high cry escaped from your throat. Your hips jerked uncontrollably, riding out the waves as warmth gushed between your thighs, soaking Harry’s fingers and the sheets beneath you. The vibrator against your clit sent aftershocks sparking through your nerves, dragging the pleasure out until it was borderline painful.
Your body sagged into the mattress, like you were all of a sudden boneless. The vibrator slipped from Harry’s grip, clattering onto the sheets as your thighs clamped shut instinctively, oversensitive and twitching. He gently removed his finger, letting your body adjust to the sudden emptiness.
“Jesus Christ,” Harry murmured, voice thick with awe. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your heaving sternum, then another just below your collarbone, easing you in the aftermath of your climax. “Look at you.” His palm smoothed over your stomach, grounding you as your breath evened out. “So fucking perfect. Took it so well, sweet girl.”
Author’s note: Hello to anyone who sees this! I’m Elodie, 24, from the Midwest. I love to experiment with writing, and my guilty pleasure is anything to do with Harry Styles. I’ve been so inspired by all the amazing writers on here, so I finally decided to take a stab at something of my own. I hope you enjoy :)
Summary: You’ve been running yourself ragged over a work project, and Harry isn’t having it.
Word count: 4.2k
Warnings: MDNI, spanking, punishment, fingering, pre-established dom/sub relationship, stern dom!harry, sub!reader, fem!reader, aftercare, all actions and dynamics are consensual
The soft glow of the laptop screen flickered against the walls, casting restless shadows in the dimly lit house. Y/N’s fingers danced over the keyboard, her eyes locked onto the cascading lines of code. Stray wisps of amber hair had escaped the messy bun atop her head, and she absently chewed on the end of a pen—an old habit from her college days. The room was silent, save for the rhythmic clicking of keys and the quiet hum of the laptop’s fan.
Harry lingered in the doorway, arms crossed, watching her with a mixture of concern and quiet frustration. The faint aroma of the dinner he’d prepared still clung to the air, a cruel reminder that she had once again skipped a meal in favor of work. Outside, the streetlights cast a soft, silver glow through the thin curtains, tracing ghostly patterns on the floor. Y/N remained wrapped in the world of her screen, completely oblivious to his presence.
He cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the hush like a blade. “Y/N, it’s late. You need to come to bed.”
She didn’t look up. “Just a few more minutes, Harry. I need to finish this.”
Harry sighed, raking a hand through his unruly curls. “You’ve been saying that for the last three hours. You need a break.”
This time, she did glance up—just long enough for him to catch the flicker of exhaustion in her gaze before she turned back to her work. “I can’t. This project is a big one. I have to get it done.”
Harry pushed off the door frame and strode toward her, his presence heavy, unyielding. A warm hand landed on her shoulder, grounding her. “You’ve been at this nonstop for weeks. You need to take care of yourself.”
She shrugged off his touch. “I will. Just not tonight.”
His jaw tightened. “That’s not how this works, Y/N. You know the rules. You agreed to them.” His voice remained level, but there was an edge to it now, a quiet authority that she could no longer ignore. “Your body needs food, rest… You’ll burn out if you keep this up.”
Y/N’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, but for the first time in hours, she hesitated. She exhaled slowly, her voice softer, but still laced with defiance.
“I just… need to finish this. Can’t you see that?”
Harry’s expression didn’t waver. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You can finish it tomorrow. During normal hours. Right now, you need sleep. I already let you skip dinner, and we both know that wasn’t the first meal you’ve ignored lately.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a murmur. “I’ve run out of patience, love.”
Y/N stilled. She understood the implication behind his words. Her breath hitched, cheeks heating.
“Harry, I can’t just—”
“Yes, you can.” His tone was gentle, yet immovable. “And you will.” With deliberate ease, he reached out and closed her laptop, the sudden silence deafening.
She finally looked at him, her eyes flashing with something between defiance and reluctant surrender. “You’re being over the top,” she muttered.
Harry smirked, tilting her chin up with his fingers, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Maybe I am. But someone has to be.” His thumb brushed against her cheek, slow and deliberate. “You’re not taking care of yourself. And that’s not acceptable to me.” His voice was softer now, but it carried an unmistakable weight.
The air thickened, charged with something unspoken yet undeniable.
He took a step back, nodding toward the staircase. “C’mon. Up you get.”
Y/N hesitated for half a second before pushing up from her chair, her body drawn to his like a tide to the shore. As much as she wanted to argue, she knew he was right. This project had pushed her past her limits—late nights, skipped meals, unanswered texts and calls—Harry had let a lot slide. But tonight, that grace had run out. And now that she had been pulled from the blue-light-induced trance she had been under, she found herself grateful for his insistence.
As they ascended the stairs, a different kind of tension coiled low in her stomach. She knew exactly where this was going, and she could already feel the electricity crackling in the space between them.
Harry sat on the edge of their bed, his eyes steady as she hovered in the doorway. He extended a hand, beckoning her forward.
“C’mere,” he commanded.
She found her place in between his legs. His hands fell to her hips and slinked around to the soft flesh under her ass, holding her in place. She looked down at him, anticipating his next move.
“I think you have a pretty good idea of where this is headed, yeah?” His eyes held a quiet patience that stood in sharp contrast to the inevitable sentence looming over her head.
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, avoiding his gaze.
Harry hummed in approval. “I’ve let a lot slide these past couple of weeks,” he said, tilting his head forward in search of her eyes. “I know big projects come up and that they sometimes get the better of our judgment. That’s just life. But you’re not doing yourself any favors by skipping meals and running on two hours of sleep each day… I know you know that.”
She rested her hands on his shoulders, fingers toying with the fabric of his shirt. A nervous habit.
He blows out a soft sigh, brushing his fingers against her skin, “I gave you plenty of chances to course-correct, Y/N. I wasn’t expecting perfection, but you’ve been running yourself into the ground, and that’s not something I can just overlook.”
She chewed her lip, her gaze flickering anywhere but his face. “I know. I’m sorry.” A frustrated breath escaped her lips, “It’s just… this project is important to me, and you know how cutthroat my coworkers can be. I can’t afford to fall behind.”
“I understand,” he says, lightly squeezing her flesh beneath his hands. “And I love how hard you work, but regardless, you know you can’t be on your A-game if you’re not taking care of yourself… That’s why we put these rules in place, remember? He moves his right hand up to her jaw in a silent command to meet his stare, “Because I love you and I care about you.” His voice was steady, eyes unwavering. “And sometimes you need a reminder to care about yourself, too. Yeah?”
She maintained eye contact this time, the guilt she had been trying to push aside settled heavily in her chest. “I love you too.” she mumbles, her voice barely audible. “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t just an apology—it was an admission. She had ignored the rules, brushed aside her own well-being for weeks, and now the weight of it all felt like it was seeping out of her pores, pooling at his feet.
Harry lets his hand drop from her chin, his expression firm but not unkind. “And I appreciate that,” he says, his tone shifting, sharpening. “But you know the deal.”
It wasn’t necessarily a question, but she answered him, nonetheless.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Alright, over my knee,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. He patted his thigh—a silent summons, firm and absolute.
Y/N hesitated for a moment. Not out of reluctance, but out of the sheer pleasure of the moment—this dance between them—the thrill of defiance followed by sweet surrender. She always wanted this, always needed this, and until right now; she hadn’t realized how much she’d been craving it.
He didn’t rush her. He never did. He simply waited, watching her with steady, knowing eyes. The weight of his gaze alone sent a shiver through her, anticipation thrumming beneath her skin. Taking a slow, measured breath, she finally relented, placing her hands on the mattress for balance as she draped herself over his lap.
He took a moment to admire the sight before him—the gentle arch of her back, the delicate vibration in her limbs, betraying her excitement. His hands smoothed over her spine, warm and comforting, a soothing contrast to the tension coiling inside her.
He could feel her trembling almost imperceptibly as she laid there—a quiet, unspoken longing bubbling up from her core. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her leggings, peeling them down her legs with deliberate ease before tossing them aside.
His palms roamed over the swell of her ass, his touch featherlight, teasing. Y/N bit her lip, resisting the instinct to press her thighs together as he traced the lace trim of her panties, feeling her heat radiating through the delicate fabric. That alone nearly unraveled him. His cock strained painfully against his sweatpants, but he forced himself to linger in this moment—the exquisite torture of making her wait, of drawing it out until she was teetering on the edge.
His hands traveled upward, finding the hem of her shirt, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin beneath. He heard the small hitch in her breath, watched as goosebumps bloomed across her flesh. Slowly, agonizingly, he lifted the fabric, removing it from her body, letting the cool air kiss her bare back as she shivered in his grasp.
He towered over her, his presence commanding every ounce of her attention. His voice, low and unwavering, wrapped around her like a steel chain. “Is your work more important than your own health?”
Y/N inhaled sharply, steadying herself before she answered. “No, Sir.”
“And who decides when you’ve had enough?” His head tilted slightly, waiting—expecting.
His voice rumbled through her, a dark, velvety vibration that settled deep in her bones. Her breath hitched. “You do, Sir.”
A flicker of approval danced in his eyes. “Good girl.”
His palm ghosted over the curves of her ass, tracing gentle circles that did little to soothe the anticipation humming in her nerves. “I want you to count for me.”
She barely had a moment to brace herself before his hand left her skin—only to return with a sharp, resounding crack.
“One!” she gasped. But before she could stop herself, her right hand shot back instinctively, trying to shield herself from the sting.
Harry was faster. He caught her wrist effortlessly, pinning it against the small of her back. His fingers wove through hers, the delicate touch at odds with the firmness of his next words.
“You know better than that.” His voice carried a quiet, heavy disapproval that made her stomach flip. “We’re starting over. Every time you squirm, we’ll go back to one again. Understood?”
Y/N swallowed hard, resisting the urge to whimper. He meant business tonight. “Yes, Sir.”
The next blow landed just as hard.
“One, Sir.” This time, she tagged on the honorific—not required, but a subtle touch she knew he'd appreciate. A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips.
Then came the next. And the next.
“Two, Sir… Three, Sir!” The quick succession stole the breath from her lungs, leaving her voice edged with both pain and something deeper, something needier.
He could feel it—the way her body responded, her skin flushing beneath his touch, heat rolling off her in waves. His palm burned against her flesh, but he reveled in it. He lived for this part: the slow, deliberate breaking down of everything but sensation.
By number twelve, the sharp slap landed against the tender flesh of her lower thighs, and she wailed, the sound raw and unfiltered. Tears pricked at the edges of her vision, but still, she forced the number past her lips.
Harry knew her body better than she did. He knew exactly how to unravel her, how to make her cry out first from frustration—then from sheer, unadulterated pleasure. He wanted her mind empty, consumed only by this, by him.
The next set of strikes sent waves of something heady through her, an intoxicating blend of pain and euphoria. Her breath stuttered. She barely managed to grunt out the numbers between each punishing impact, her body trembling, craving.
By the time he reached twenty-eight, her head had fallen slack against the bed, silent tears soaking into the duvet. This was the most Y/N had ever taken. Normally, he didn’t have to go past twenty before she surrendered completely, but tonight—tonight she had been stubborn. Each slap chipped away at the stress, the tension, the weight she had been carrying for weeks.
He felt the moment her body gave in. The way her fingers went limp in his grasp, her voice raw, spent. She wasn’t resisting anymore—just accepting.
“Thirty, Sir,” she sobbed, the words almost lost in the haze of exhaustion and relief. Then, softer still, “I’m sorry.”
Harry let his hand relax, fingers tracing slow, soothing circles over the heated expanse of her skin. Her body was still shaking, but not from pain. Not anymore. He knew she had slipped, drifting into that quiet, blissful space where nothing existed beyond the warmth of his touch and the safety of his presence.
And he wasn’t about to pull her out. Not yet.
For a long moment, the only sound was the steady rhythm of his palm smoothing over her, and the lingering, uneven sniffles escaping her lips. He let her breathe, let her be.
After a couple minutes, he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he murmured, “You did so good baby. I’m proud of you.”
He pressed a few final, featherlight kisses along the curve of her lower back, his breath warm against her skin as he murmured, “Are you ready for me to check on you?”
He already knew the answer. Knew what he would find when his fingers slipped between her thighs. The anticipation sent a thrill down his spine as he let his hand drift lower, tracing the seam of her slick folds, drinking in the heat that seeped into his skin.
She was dripping.
Harry was hard beneath her, the evidence pressing insistently against her stomach, and he knew she could feel it too. But tonight wasn’t about him. Yes, she had broken the rules—deserved the punishment she had just endured—but more importantly, he wanted to strip away the weight she had been carrying. He wanted to unmake the stress that had hardened her and replace it with something softer.
His thumb found her clit, circling with just enough pressure to make her squirm, a broken whimper muffled against the duvet.
“Good girl, Y/N,” he praised, his voice a low hum of satisfaction.
“Just gonna make you feel good now, yeah?”
He slid a finger inside her, slow and deliberate, while his free hand threaded into her hair, stroking, grounding her.
Her nod was small, but he felt the way her body melted, giving in to his touch. Wetness seeped onto his thigh, further proof of how much she needed this—needed him.
He pushed a second finger inside, reveling in the way her walls clenched around him, her body trembling from the overwhelming sensations. With every stroke, he could feel her tension unraveling, her muscles slackening, the last remnants of restraint slipping away.
The world around him dissolved as his fingers curled inside her, seeking out the spot he knew would make her crumble. “You’ve been so good for me,” he whispered, his lips grazing the damp skin of her shoulder. “Took your punishment like a champ. Now, I want you to come for me. Just like this.”
Her skin tasted of sweat and salt, the scent of her arousal thick in the air.
Y/N was a paradox—a perfect blend of submission and defiance. As obedient as she was, that stubborn streak of hers ran just as deep, a constant challenge that kept him on his toes. But nights like this? When she surrendered completely, yielding every inch of herself to him without hesitation?
He savored it. Relished it. Worshipped it.
Because having all of her—mind, body, and soul—was a privilege he would never take for granted.
He studied her like an artist captivated by the final stroke of their masterpiece, burning the view into his memory—the flutter of her lashes as her eyes turned glassy, the flush that crept down her neck, the way her cunt clenched so tightly around his fingers as if trying to keep him there forever. He wanted to teach her to let go. To release all the anxiety, frustration, and exhaustion that had been suffocating her for far too long.
But he needed it to come from her—wanted her to own her pleasure as much as he did—to know that she was worthy, desired, loved.
Harry’s fingers slid deeper, moving with deliberate slowness as they arched just right, pressing against the spot that had her moaning, her body instinctively grinding against his palm. Her face was buried in the duvet, eyes squeezed shut as she gasped, overwhelmed by the rush of sensations flooding through her.
“Come on, Y/N. Let go for me,” he coaxed, his voice dripping with filthy promise.
Her body tensed, and he knew he had her. She trembled on the precipice before the dam broke. A shattered moan tore from her lips as pleasure ripped through her, muscles spasming in tight, rhythmic waves. The heat of her release coated his figures, and he didn’t stop—not yet.
He worked her through it, his thumb never relenting from the steady, precise strokes against her clit. He wanted everything. Wanted to hear her cry out for him, to watch the pleasure drag her under until she had nothing left to give.
And under she went.
Her cries turned breathless as the last tremors wracked her body, her limbs going boneless beneath his touch. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers, smirking at the needy little whimper she made at the loss. He soothed the ache with soft strokes along her trembling thighs, grounding her as she came back down.
“Atta girl, sweetheart,” he cooed, voice laced with satisfaction. “That feel good?”
A slow, exhausted nod was all she could manage. As the haze of pleasure lifted, she became aware of everything at once—the damp strands of hair sticking to her nape, the tingling in her limbs, the lingering warmth radiating from her backside.
But nothing could pull her back to reality quite like his voice.
“Can you sit up for me, sweet girl?”
***
Water cascaded from the shower head in silken ribbons, a warm, soothing contrast against the cool tile. Steam curled in the air, thick and languid, blurring the edges of the room until it felt like they existed in their own private universe. The scent of eucalyptus clung to the mist, wrapping around them like an embrace.
Harry held Y/N close, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, the quiet strength of him anchoring her. Her head rested against his collarbone, the sound of his heartbeat a calming metronome against the storm that had been raging inside her for weeks.
His hands moved slowly over her damp skin, drawing soothing circles along her spine, his thumbs tracing the delicate ridges of her back. She shivered—not from the cold, but from the contrast of sensations: the warmth of the water, the cool air beyond it, the roughness of his calloused fingers against the softness of her flesh.
She tilted her head up, meeting his gaze through the water’s shimmering veil. Her lips were parted, her lashes heavy, surrender written in every line of her expression. Harry felt something deep and primal stir in his chest.
With a lingering kiss, he turned her around, his fingers threading through her hair as he worked the shampoo into a gentle lather. His touch was reverent, a contradiction of tenderness and strength, his large hands cradling her head with the kind of care that made her stomach flutter. She sighed softly, melting into the sensation as she rested against his muscled body, her small noises of contentment filling the air like music.
When the last suds had been rinsed away, Harry reached past her to shut off the water, the sudden absence of sound leaving them in an intimate hush. Without hesitation, he grabbed the towels he had set out earlier, wrapping her in one before she could feel the bite of the air. He took his time drying her off, the plush fabric gliding over her sensitive skin like a gentle breeze, coaxing a soft sigh from her lips. Then, with the same quiet devotion, he slipped one of his t-shirts over her head, the oversized fabric swallowing her smaller frame.
As Y/N moved through the final steps of her skincare routine, Harry retrieved a bottle of lotion from the cupboard across the room. He approached her with the grace of a shadow, gently tapping her on the bum.
“When you’re done, I want you to lay on the bed on your tummy. Ok?” His voice a smooth, honeyed command.
She finished up and did as she was told, sinking into the mattress, her head resting on her folded arms. Her damp hair spread across the silk pillow like a river of dark water, cool and smooth against the fabric.
The bed dipped beneath his weight, and she heard the soft sound of lotion being smoothed between his hands. A moment later, the hem of her shirt lifted, and his warm palms met the tender skin of her backside. Y/N sighed deeply, the coolness of the lotion a welcome relief to the heat lingering from earlier. His hands moved with slow, deliberate strokes, massaging away the sting, his fingers tracing the curves of her body with intimate familiarity.
The room was quiet, save for the rustle of sheets and the steady rhythm of their breathing. Y/N felt herself unraveling beneath his touch, sinking into the present moment, leaving behind the weight of the stress that had knotted itself into her muscles. He always knew how to bring her back—how to pull her from the depths of her mind and remind her that she didn't have to handle everything on her own.
When he was finished, he leaned down, brushing a stray lock of hair from her neck before pressing a gentle kiss to the delicate skin there.
“How do you feel?” His voice was a low murmur against her ear, thick with warmth and something deeper—something unspoken but understood.
Y/N swallowed, taking a moment to gather her words. “I—I feel good, Sir,” she admitted, her voice still laced with the remnants of pleasure and submission. “Still a little out of it… but good.” She paused for a moment, then continued, “I’m glad for the punishment. I really needed that.”
She shifted to sit up, and he caught her chin between his fingers, maneuvering her head to face him.
Harry’s lips curved into a soft smile, his thumb tracing slow, reassuring patterns along her cheek. “You did well tonight. You know that, right? M’proud of you.”
The weight of his words settled over her like a blanket—warm, protective, unwavering. She smiled softly into his touch.
A beat of silence stretched between them before he spoke again. “When you feel like things are spiraling, I need you to know you can come to me.”
Then, without waiting for a response, he leaned in and kissed her. It was slow and deliberate, filled with everything he didn’t need to say—everything he had already proven.
When she finally pulled away, her voice was softer, more certain. “I do know that. And I’m sorry I didn’t come to you sooner. It’s… a habit, shutting people out when I’m stressed. But regardless, you didn’t deserve that.”
Harry exhaled a quiet laugh, “Yes, I’m well aware of that habit of yours, which we’ll crack one day. But in the meantime, you can push all you want, sweetheart. Unfortunately for you, I’m not going anywhere.”
She giggled, letting him pull her into his chest. “On the contrary. Very fortunate for me,” she corrected, her voice tinged with affection.
He grinned, maneuvering the covers so she could slide beneath them. Reaching over, he switched off the lamp on his bedside table, casting the room into a velvety darkness.
As Y/N melted into him, the last of her tension slipping away, he pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head.
“Get some sleep. I love you.”
“I love you too,” she whispered against his skin, finally surrendering to the quiet lull of sleep’s embrace.
...
Ahhh! Kind of out there for my first post but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Hope you enjoyed!
Warnings: inspection kink, p in v, unprotected sex, dom/sub dynamics
♡ ♡ ♡
It always starts the same. The dull gray light of the early morning, a tv static blanketing– burrowing– nestling. The chill of morning dew slips through the crack in the window, goosebumps prickle on your skin. Still, the anticipation brings heat– a kindling to the smoking embers in the ash of the night before.
Fibers dig, etching a linocut of the carpet into the thin skin of your knees. You should be used to it by now– the scratchiness, but no matter how often you’re knelt, hands splayed on the mattress before you, the same ache occurs.
Harry’s silent when he steps in, you can only tell he’s there by the bristling of his feet against the carpet. A subdued threat. His gaze cuts, tracing and cold as he follows the lines of your body. He’s checking your form, ‘tummy tucked, mhm, fingers straight, good, hold your head up, that's right’. You silently attune to every part of your body, his words echoing in the cavern of your mind. Once he told you not to think, so you try not to.
He doesn’t greet you, he doesn’t have to. This is all purely routine by now. You feel the heat from his body when he comes to stand beside you and you revel, revel in the brief respite of warmth his presence brings.
His index and thumb grip your cheeks, twisting you to look at him. It’s cold, a mechanical motion, still under his grip, the sight makes your muscles attempt to flex in a smile. His features are sharp, expectant, but still the epidote of his eyes hold a warmth– a fondness as he looks at you.
“Open,” his voice is low, traces of sleep still laced in the timber.
His grip loosens, the pads of his fingers denting in the plush flesh, just enough for your lips to part, for your tongue to roll out– flat, a presentation for him. He waits, patience is nothing more than a virtue to him.
Spit pools, you want to swallow, but you don’t. ‘Hold it’, he’d once said. You let it fall, sticky rivulets from the corners of your mouth, the tip of your tongue. He nods, the closest you’ll get to a sign of approval. When the two of you had started this routine he used to praise as he went, but he likes the quiet, and praise– praise only brings way for distractions.
Two straight fingers press to your tongue, there’s not warning when they knock against the back of your throat, unyielding. You feel the prick of tears behind your eyes, the urge to cough is strong but it is not an option. You focus on the taste of his skin and how the metal from his rings feels cold against your lips.
You’re primed, ready, when he nods again– his cue for you to suck. He inches his fingers back, just enough for you to work with. You wrap your lips around his knuckles, tongue laving at the creases. Your teeth knock against his rings. Silver, gold and ruby kisses you back.
He pulls them from your mouth, glistening– wet, dripping with your spit.
“Up,” it’s a simple command, one that you follow on shaky legs. He watches, brows furrowed as you climb on the bed, eyes focused on your cunt as you part your thighs for him. You wish you could watch him, follow the contours of his body as he moves, but he told you once to look at the ceiling, so you do.
Harry’s eyes focus on your cunt, puffy lips and weepy hole on full display only for him. You clench around nothing when you hear him step closer and that only fuels the pride he has welling in his chest. It’s only routine, but still his heart swells at your obedience.
There is no warning when his fingers touch you, spreading your lips apart. Open, an exhibit with admission for one. The cool air makes you shiver when he pulls back the hood of your clit, your muscles tensing beneath his touch. The only sound, a breathy air of approval from Harry.
You’re soaked when his first finger presses in, slipping with ease into your wet heat. He prods, finger curling into that spongy spot that makes your toes curl. You press your lips together, seeling back the moan that wants to escape when he adds a second finger– same story. He wipes your wetness– slick, on the inside of your thigh.
He taps your hip once, your next cue. You flip over, hands and knees, arms sprawled before you. The opalescent gemstone sits snug between your cheeks, catching the dusky hue of the room– glittering, a prize.
His fingers slip under the flare, tugging. He pulls it halfway out, accustomed to its former position you feel the stretch in your toes. Your pulse is in your throat, hammering, slipping down your ribcage like a mallet. Your teeth grit, bone on bone. You breathe through it– in and out. Harry twists the plug, pulling– toying. You are his toy afterall.
He pushes it back in, metal biting at your warm skin. “Exemplary marks.” He concludes, voice echoing in the quiet of the room like a lecture hall.
You breathe out a sigh of relief, emotions flood: pride, confidence, dignity. He's never failed you, but still you feel like a kid in school yearning for their teacher's approval.
Inspections over, but he’s not done with you– yet.
His hand presses to your bum, stabilizing, the touch almost feels domestic. The teeth of his zipper grind, a runway for what’s next. You keep breathing, in and out, in and out– steady– rhythmic.
His knees dent the bed beside yours while his cock sits heavy in his hand. He spits, warm and goey– viscid, it drips down from your ass. There are no frills, as the crown of him nudges you open, parting– blunt. His hips snap before you can register it. He fills you, full– fuller– fullest. You whine, it’s permissible now.
He cudgels at your ache, the one that’s deep. The snapping of his hips a kindling for the embers in the hearth of your tummy. Glowy, warm, it runs deep in your veins.
Harry lets himself soak you in now, you were so good for him afterall. His hands are grabby, they dig in your flesh. The pads of his fingers bite at your skin, dimpling you with bruises that show his love.
Because he does love you, he loves you enough to dip his toes into the murky and complex pools of power and submission. Enough to trust you with his fantasies and vice versa. Enough to know that the both of you will always be safe when it comes to how the two of you play.
“So– fucking– good–”, he grunts, teeth bared, primal. “Always take me– so– fucking– good.” His voice swarms in your head, syrupy, treacly, sweet like honey in your veins.
Every grunt that claws at his throat, slithering into the air around you– intrinsic unrestrained approval– sinks into your skin. Your body hums, a buzzing in your nerves. You can feel the force of his thrusts in your fingertips.
His hand comes down on your ass, a crack in the symphony of the orchestra your bodies create. “Fuck,” you seethe through clenched teeth. It’s fire– fire in your bones. Marrow alight in his ministries, it crackles.
He can feel you clenching, siphoning him in. Your body a siren call, wanting– needing in the night. “Y’gonna cum for me?” He grunts, even though he already knows the answer.
You want to scream yes! As the pleasure is rolling, licking at your frame. All consumed, you whine instead.
“Better ask permission,” it’s not a suggestion coming from Harry, it’s a command.
You beg, desperate, the pitch of your voice one only heard when the two of you are like this, “Please– please– please.”
“Go on then, don’t be so whiny ‘bout it,” he gibes, his own thrusts beginning to grow sloppy– worn out.
And you do, it’s hard not to when he’s been ramming into you the way he has– a perfect blunt force. The hearth spills over. Hot and ablaze it coils through the frame of your body, the flames licking at your every fiber, wrapping around the timber of your soul. Consuming.
Haphazardly he chases, following close behind. It’s wet, sticky where you’re joined, You’re attuned to the noises shared between you, gushing and vulgar. It brings a new bloom of heat as he pumps you full, filling you in a different fashion.
His chest is hot on your back as he falls forward, sweaty and spent. He kisses your shoulder blade– tepid. “Exempilary marks, as always,” he accolades, his chest vibrating with a murmur of laughter.
warnings: degradation, use of ball gag, harry being a little mean
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“Stop fucking moving, I told you to stay still. If you keep being a brat, you’re not coming at all tonight.” Harry’s hand was resting on the corded wand sitting between y/n’s legs, applying pressure every time she chose to squirm around. Small moans leave her mouth, but are muffled by the red ball placed between her lips.
“Too bad that pretty little mouth is all gagged up. I’d love to hear what you have to say, but quite frankly I think that sluts like you don’t deserve to talk when they’re misbehaving.” He grins, knowing that y/n always loves to be vocal during sex. This was a new experience for her- being gagged up and unable to talk. Even though her safeword was out of the question, they came up with the solution of tapping the mattress three times for yellow, and multiple times for red.
y/n moans loudly, her hips pushing against the toy as if to provide some consistent relief to her clit, which makes Harry smack her thigh. The pain of the slap shocks through her body, eliciting another moan, but she tries her best to keep herself still.
“You’re making such a mess for me, sweetheart… can see your cunt dripping from here. Do you want to cum? Is that what you want?” He teases, knowing that’s exactly what she wants.
y/n nods her head fervently, trying to speak out but ultimately failing. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry, who just laughs and smiles at her dauntingly. “If you want to cum, use your words. If you just tell daddy what you want he will give it to you.” He applies more pressure on the head of the wand, y/n’s hips bucking up into his hand, landing her another smack across the thigh.
She’s so frustrated that tears are coming out of her eyes, ultimately soaking the ball gag and she can taste the saltiness of her tears. She tries to speak through the gag, but it just comes out a muffled, slobbery mess.
“Cum for me y/n, show me how good I make your cunt feel.” He switches the vibrator to a higher speed, which makes her cry out louder than before, and sends a shockwave through her body.
Her body shakes, her orgasm pumping through her body, with her back arched on the bed and eyes rolled back. Her hips grind on the vibrator to help work her through it, something that Harry will allow only this once.
“Such a good fucking slut for me… making a mess of the bed darling…” his words help her through her orgasm.
When she comes down from her high, her thighs are shaking, and her hips are trying to pull away from the vibrator that’s still being held to her clit. He takes this as his sign that her orgasm is over and removes the device from between her thighs. He reaches forward to the back of her head, and undos the buckle of the gag. “Such a good girl for me, you did so good… took it so well.” He brushes away the sweaty strands of hair from her face, pulling her into his own chest. Her face is nuzzled against his skin and her breathing slows down.
“How are you feeling, my love?” Harry asks, using his finger to lift her chin up so they can make eye contact. He hands her a water bottle, cap undone already just how she likes.
Her voice is rather hoarse, her coughing a few times and taking small sips of the water Harry provided. “G-good, I feel good. My throat hurts, but I’m okay.” She smiles, looking at him.
He massages her jaw with his fingers, hopefully providing some relief to the sore muscles caused by the gag.
He grins cheesily at her smile. “Good, now drink your water and we can go hop in the shower.”
Summary: Your boyfriend, Harry is a tattoo artist, when you two decide to get tattoos together late at night, he can’t help himself after tattooing your ass for an hour.
"Alright, baby, just hold still for me," Harry's deep voice rumbled as he leaned over your body. Your sundress was rolled to your hips as his tattoo gun buzzed against your right ass cheek.
This was a random idea you two had in the middle of the night, getting matching tattoos. Harry being a tattoo artist and owning a tattoo shop made it easy to drive over at 1 am. Of course if he was going to do your tattoo, it only made sense, in your sleepless minds, that you do his.
"Remember to keep the gun steady," Harry had instructed you, his eyes filled with amusement as he watched you, his hand guiding yours, as you etched 'DADDY' into his right upper thigh. The room was dimly lit, the only sound being the soft whirring of the tattoo gun and the occasional snicker escaping from Harry's lips.
You had been nervous, but Harry's reassuring whispers of "That's it, you're doing great, baby" had calmed your trembling hands. When you finally finished, you both looked down at the fresh ink with a mix of pride and disbelief.
After taping a layer of gauze to his thigh, Harry immediately picked you up and placed you stomach down on his bench.
"Now it's your turn, kitten," Harry said with a wink as he grabbed his chair and wheeled it closer to you. You felt his calloused hands draw the outline of where your new tattoo would be.
You took a deep breath, feeling both excitement and a hint of pain as Harry began to work. The buzzing of the needle grew louder as it pierced your skin, creating the outline of the word 'kitten'. You couldn't help but whimper a little, but Harry's gentle strokes and soothing words kept you grounded. After every wipe away of ink, he would place a kiss on your other cheek, you both laughed at first, but the gesture made your heavy breathing softer.
As the minutes ticked by, the adrenaline of the spontaneous decision started to wear off, and the exhaustion from the long day began to set in. You felt your eyelids growing heavier, your body succumbing to the comfort of Harry's touch and the rhythmic buzz of the tattoo gun. "You okay, kitten?" he checked in, his voice a gentle rumble in the quiet room. You nodded with your eyes still closed. "You're doing so well. Just a little more, then we'll be done." he cooed.
With a few more precise movements, Harry finished up the shading on the 'N' in 'kitten'. He rolled his chair back to admire his work, his eyes filled with satisfaction as her looked at your ass, now marked by him. You felt a shiver run down your spine as he leaned in and placed a tender kiss just below the fresh ink. "So beautiful," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.
He stood up, and you felt his hands slip your dress to gently lift it up your back, leaving it bunched up just under your shoulders. Harry's gaze never left yours in the mirror, and you watched as his pupils dilated with desire. The air grew thick with anticipation as he took a step closer, his tattooed hand sliding around to cup your cheek and turning your face towards him. "You're so beautiful, baby," he whispered before capturing your mouth in a slow, sensual kiss. His tongue danced with yours while his other hand trailed down your spine to rest on the small of your back.
With a low growl, Harry's demeanor shifted from gentle to dominating. He gripped your hip, his hand moving to pull down your thong. He stepped back, admiring the view of your now bare ass with the new ink.
"Spread your legs for me, but stay laying on your tummy." he ordered, his voice firm yet tender. You complied immediately, feeling a rush of vulnerability as you exposed yourself to him. He stepped closer, his hand moving to cup your wet core before his thumb began to circle your clit with expert precision. "Look at how eager you are, baby." He leaned in and spat on your pussy, the warmth of his saliva making you gasp.
With a predatory grace, Harry aligned his hardened length with your entrance and pushed in without hesitation. You moaned into the bench pillow as he filled you up completely. His grip tightened on your hip, guiding his thrusts deep and slow. Each time he pulled out, you felt the stickiness of his spit mingling with your arousal, heightening the sensation of his thrusts.
"Daddy," you whimpered, your voice muffled by the leather. Harry's response was a low, animalistic grunt, his pace increasing as he claimed you with every powerful stroke. He leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back as his other hand snaked up to play with your nipples, pinching and rolling them until they were hard peaks of pleasure.
His hand moved back to your ass, his thumb tracing the fresh ink as he fucked you, marking his territory with every thrust.
"Are you Daddy's good girl?"
You nodded, your voice trembling as you murmured, "'m Daddy's good girl." The words sent a jolt of electricity through your body, the kink of the scene only adding to the intensity of your arousal.
The smell of ink and sex filled the air as Harry's grip on your hips tightened. He leaned in closer, his hot breath fanning against your neck as he whispered dirty, degrading things in your ear, pushing you further into your submissive role. "You like it when Daddy's rough with you, don't you? You like being my slut?" he groaned. You could only nod, as he picked up the pace, pounding into you with a fierce need that made the bench shake.
With every thrust, Harry's spit-slicked thumb circled your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge of orgasm. "Come for me, baby," he urged, his voice thick with desire. You felt your body tighten, the pleasure building until it was too much to handle. You let out a muffled scream as your climax hit, your muscles clenching around his cock, sending him over the edge as well.
With a final, powerful thrust, Harry pulled out, his cock glistening with your arousal. He reached down and painted your un-inked ass cheek with his cum, leaving a sticky, hot trail across your skin. "So perfect," he murmured, his eyes never leaving the mess he'd made.
Harry grabbed his phone from the nearby counter. He snapped a picture, capturing the moment with a sense of ownership and pride. The image was a stark contrast: the delicate 'kitten' tattoo on one side, his hot, white cum on the other. You felt a thrill at the thought of the photo, the evidence of his claim on you, his brand of love and dominance.
Harry took a paper towel and gently wiped the warm cum from your ass. His touch was surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to the raw passion that had just consumed both of you. He threw the towel away and reached out to stroke your hair, his hand moving in slow, calming motions that made you melt into the bench. "Did a good job for me, baby," he murmured, his voice soothing as he praised you for your obedience and the pleasure you had brought him.
Despite the tenderness, his grip on your hair was firm, reminding you of your place. "You're so beautiful, kitten," he said, his thumb tracing the line of your cheek as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "And now, you have a permanent reminder of who you belong to."
Summary: You accompany Harry on Tour, when things get too stressful, you’re there to help.
Word Count: 2.5k
Warnings & More: entirely smut, kind of Soft Dom, praise kink, LOT Harry, I last minute changed this from present to past tense, so if there’s any mistakes, sorry !
You slipped on Harry's favorite lingerie, a sweet spring yellow set that complemented your skin tone perfectly. He was on tour, performing his new album, and you, as his girlfriend, were accompanying him. The tour had recently been catching up to him, each night he would come home, exhausted from giving 100 percent on stage each night. So today, you decided to give him the stress reliever he needed.
When you hear the key card slide into the lock, your heart raced. This was it, the moment you had been dreaming about all day. As the door opens, Harry's exhausted frame comes in the doorway. He sighed heavily, dropping his bag to the floor before he spots you, lounging on the bed in nothing but the yellow lingerie he loves so much. A slow, hungry smile spreads across his face.
"Hi, beautiful girl."
You give him a seductive smile, patting the space on the bed next to you. He doesn't need further invitation, stripping off his shirt, revealing his toned body, a testament to the rigorous tour schedule.
"What's all this for?" He asked with a cheeky smile, undoing his belt as he sat on the edge of the hotel bed.
"I wanted to help you out," You replied, now taking control of his belt yourself, stripping it from his pants. "You've been so stressed out and tired recently...I want to please you, make you feel good."
Once you unbutton and unzip his pants, and free his growing length from his boxers, you start to give his halfway hard dick a massage, running your hand up over and over from the tip to the base.
"Mm, that's it," Harry murmurs, his eyes half-lidded as he watched you work his cock. You lean in and kiss the tip, feeling his pulse under your lips.
"You suck so good, baby," he says, stroking your hair as you take him into your mouth. His words make you feel powerful, like you're the one in charge of his pleasure. You start to suck him deeper, feeling him harden against your tongue. You're eager to show him just how much you want to please him.
"Look at you," Harry says, his voice a low rumble of praise. "You're so beautiful in your pretty lingerie."
You feel your cheeks heat up, but you kept going, taking him deeper into your mouth, your eyes never leaving his. You started to pick up speed, your tongue swirling around the tip, teasing the slit before taking him in deeper again. You could feel him getting harder, his grip on your hair tightening slightly. His praise only spurred you on, making you want to give him the best blowjob he'd ever had.
You moved faster now, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked him with everything you had. Harry's breath hitches, his eyes rolled back in his head as he watched you. His voice strained, his words coming out as breathy moans of pleasure.
"That's it," he whispers, "you're doing so good, baby."
Encouraged by his words, you sped up, your lips gliding along his shaft as you took him deeper and faster into your mouth. You felt his cock throb against your tongue, and the salty taste of him became more intense. Harry's hips started to move with you, gently thrusting into your mouth as he lost control. The sound of your suckling filled the quiet hotel room, echoing off the walls.
Suddenly, you lifted your head, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to his cock. You look up at him with hooded eyes, a smirk playing on your lips. You enjoy the power you hold over him at that moment. Harry's eyes were dark with desire, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He looked down at you, his pupils dilated with lust.
In your sex life, Harry was definitely the more dominant one, if there was one, but that definitely didn't stop you from having some level of control over him when you looked deep into his eyes as you sucked his cock.
He reached down, gently gripping the base of his cock to stop you. "My turn," he says, his voice gruff with desire. He stood up, pulling you up to your feet and walking you over to the bed. "Lay down," he commands, his voice firm but not unkind. You obeyed, feeling a thrill of excitement shoot through you as you lay back on the edge of the bed.
"I hate to take this off you so quickly, but I don't mind getting a look at your pretty pussy."
He knelt before you, his eyes feasting on the sight before him. He took a deep breath, his nose flaring at the sweet scent of your arousal. Without wasting another second, he dived in, his tongue pressing against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body.
"Oh, Harry," you moan, your hips bucking slightly as he lapped at your folds. His tongue swirled around your clit, flicking and teasing until you felt like you were going to burst. You held onto the bed for dear life, your knuckles turning white.
"Keep going," you whine, your voice needy. Harry's eyes meet yours, a smirk playing on his lips as he saw how much you were enjoying this. He didn’t say a word, just continued his sweet torment, his tongue delving deeper into your pussy, exploring every inch of you like he's savoring a fine dessert.
Your legs shook as Harry's mouth moved in perfect rhythm with your body, his tongue teasing your clit, then plunging into your wetness, only to retreat again. You couldn’t help but moan, the sound echoing in the hotel room. His praise was constant, whispered sweet nothings that make you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.
"You're the perfect girl for me...I love hearing your sweat moans."
You felt Harry's breath against your pussy, hot and heavy, as he started to lick you again. You laid on the end of the bed, your legs up and apart, giving him full access to your most intimate parts. You held your legs up under your knees, feeling exposed and vulnerable, but also incredibly turned on by the way he was looking at you. His eyes were full of hunger, and the way his tongue moves against your clit was like nothing you'd ever felt before.
"You're so pretty, baby," Harry murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. "Your pussy is so sweet, it tastes perfect."
With a final, lingering kiss to your clit, Harry stood up, his cock fully erect. He grabbed your ankles and pulled you to the very edge of the bed. You watch as he lines himself up, the head of his cock nudging against your wet entrance. He looked down at you with a fiery gaze, and you nodded, begging for more.
"Ready for me, baby?" He asked, his voice thick with desire. You nodded eagerly, your heart racing as you felt the tip of his cock pressing against you.
With one swift movement, Harry entered you, filling you completely. You gasped, the feeling of him inside you was so intense it was almost overwhelming. He started to move, his strokes deep and firm, his praise never ending.
"Look at me, baby," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "You're so pretty when you're taking my cock."
You moan, the sensation of being filled by him while he praised you, pushing you closer to the edge. He started to move faster, his cock pumped in and out of you with a ferocity that left you breathless. Each thrust was met with a "good girl" or "so sweet" from his lips, and it only made you want to cum quicker and harder.
"Look at you, taking me so good," Harry said, his voice strained. He grabbed your hips, his fingers digged into your skin as he fucked you with a perfect rhythm. You whimpered, the pleasure building up inside you. "Keep those legs up, baby."
You did as you were told, your muscles quivering from the effort of holding up your legs as Harry's cock hit just the right spot. The bed shook with each thrust, the headboard thumped against the wall.
"You're so wet, baby," Harry groaned, his eyes never leaving the spot where his cock entered you. "Such a pretty puffy pussy...were you waiting for this darling? Waiting all day for me to come and fuck you?"
"Yes, yes." You whimpered out, overcome by the pleasure his cock was giving you.
His strokes grew more demanding, his breathing ragged as he watched his cock slide in and out of you. Your pussy clenched around him, desperate for release, and he could feel it. "You're going to cum for me, baby," he whispered, his eyes dark with lust. "You're going to let go and show me how much you love it."
You moaned out, the feeling in your stomach different from a standard orgasm. "'m… gonna squirt, Harry."
"Yeah?" he growled, his eyes locked on yours, his strokes becoming more powerful. "Gonna soak me, honey?"
You felt it, your stomach twisting in a delicious knot, your pussy tightening around him. Harry's grip on your hips grew stronger, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched the pleasure wash over your face. You nodded frantically, unable to form words as the pressure grew.
"That's it," Harry encouraged, his voice low and guttural. "Let it out, baby. I want to feel it all."
Your stomach twisted tighter and tighter as Harry's relentless rhythm continued, his praises only adding to the high building inside of you. Your eyes squeezed shut as the pressure became unbearable, and then, with a final, desperate whimper, you let go. The orgasm ripped through you, your body shuddered and convulsed around him as you squirted, soaking him and the bed beneath you.
"Oh, fuck," Harry gasped, his eyes struck with amazement and desire as he watched the sight before him. "Made such a mess on me, baby. Does your pussy love my cock that much?" he whispered, his voice filled with awe as he felt your pussy clench and pulse around his cock.
"Yes, love your cock so much." You moaned out, breathless from the powerful climax your body just went through.
"Good girl," Harry said, his voice soothing. He slowed his strokes, giving you a moment to recover before he starts to build the rhythm again. You felt his cock swell inside you, his own climax approaching. "I want you to cum again," he murmurs, his thumb brushed against your clit with just the right amount of pressure.
You whimpered, your body already so sensitive from the first orgasm that you weren't sure if you can handle more. But Harry knew exactly what he was doing, his skilled fingers and cock working in tandem to push you towards the edge again.
"Come for me, baby," he whispered, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. "You're so close." His thrusts were relentless. He forgot about his own orgasm and pleasure, only working to hit your g spot over and over again.
"Look at me," Harry commanded, his eyes boring into yours as he sped up again. "Tell me how much you love this."
You obeyed, looking up at him with a mix of adoration and desperation. "I love it, Harry," you whisper, your voice strained. "I love your cock so much."
He smiled, pleased with your response, and leaned down to kiss you hard, his tongue delving into your mouth as his hips slammed in and out of you. You felt him getting closer, his strokes becoming more erratic, his grip on your hips tightening. You know he won't last much longer.
"Please," you beg, your voice breathless, "I want to feel you cum inside me."
"Not yet, baby," Harry said, his own voice tight with restraint. He slowed his movements, his eyes never leaving yours. "'m gonna make you cum again first."
You whimpered, your body already on the edge. Harry's fingers worked their magic, playing your clit like a maestro with a violin, and you felt your orgasm building again. "Please, Harry," you begged, your voice shaking. "I need you to fill me up."
He pulled out, your pussy feeling empty without his thick cock inside you. You watched as he lined up with your pussy again, the head of his cock glistened with your juices. With one smooth thrust, he was back inside, filling you completely. You let out a gasp, your legs trembling uncontrollably. Harry started to pump into you, his movements slow and deliberate at first, building up the intensity.
You felt your orgasm approaching like a freight train, barreling down the tracks of pleasure. Harry's praise turned into growls of encouragement, his eyes dark with hunger as he watched you. "That's it, baby," he murmured. "Cum for me."
The next few seconds feel like an eternity as your body tensed, your muscles tightened around his cock. And then, with a scream that you didn't know you had in you, you did. Your pussy clenched and spasmed, another powerful orgasm ripped through your body, making your legs shake so badly you think they might snap.
As your body relaxed and the aftershocks of your climax faded, Harry's eyes darken even more. He grabbed your hips and started to fuck you harder, his strokes deep and demanding. You could feel his own orgasm building, his cock swelling even more inside you.
"Fuck, baby," he said, his voice strained. His grip tightened, his hips snapped against yours with each thrust.
Harry slammed into you one final time, his cock pulsed as he came deep inside you. You felt his warmth fill you, and it's the most incredible feeling in the world.
His eyes darkened with satisfaction as he pulled out of you, a soft smile played on his lips. "You're so beautiful," he said, his voice filled with wonder.
He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before moving down to kiss your cheeks, your neck, and finally, your still-swollen lips. You could taste yourself on him, and the idea of it makes your insides melt. He pulled back, a finger lingering on your pussy, tracing the mess you both created.
"Look how beautifully we've made you," Harry whispered, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He ran his finger up your sensitive slit, the mix of his seed and your juices made you quiver. "So wet, so tight...my cum inside you," he said, his voice filled with wonder.
He brought his finger up to your mouth, his finger shined with your combined releases and you obediently part your lips, taking his finger inside. You sucked greedily, the tang of him mingled with your own flavor making your stomach fill with butterflies.
"You're so good, baby," Harry praised, watching the intimate act with a gentle smile. "So, so good." His thumb traced over your bottom lip as you suck, the sweetness of his words made your heart flutter.
a/n: hiiiiiiii! This is a little cute and slutty oneshot for yall! y/n is such a cutie in this, and if yall wanna see anymore slutivities between them let me know ;)
Warnings: possessiveness, spit play, face slapping, ignoring, oral (f!receiving), hair pulling, fingers in mouth, brief discussion of contraception, mutual infatuation, character development
WC: 4.1k
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y/n has never been as comfortable with someone as she is with Harry.
They were a pretty normal couple. They had met at a speed dating event, and bonded about how their friends had dragged them there. After their little 5 minute speed date, they both decided to leave the bar it was held at, and go on an impromptu dinner to chilis that night.
She told all of her friends that she genuinely felt a ‘spark’ with him, because on their first real date, When he put his arm around her lower back while walking back to their respective cars, her body pimpled with goosebumps. He noticed, being the observant man he is, and had let out a small chuckle, and quipped a small ‘you’re cute’ to her.
Since then, they have grown into eachother. He was absolutely obsessed with her and the small things about her, like, how she was shy- even now. She got all nervous and giggly around him, and her body always had a visceral reaction to his touch.
She did always had a hard time speaking up about things that she wants, usually met with her face flushing pink and embarrassment looming around her head. Again, Harry thought it was adorable, but he absolutely loved when she would get so worked up, the nervousness would drop from her, and she would become desperate and needy.
She that’s what leads them to today. They had been out running errands all day, and Harry had been relentless with teasing her. In the fitting room when she was trying to find new work clothes, his hands were all over her body, with lips on her neck, speaking the most unholy words to her. Her brain was all sorts of scrambled, and she felt the heat between her thighs rise into her belly.
They had gotten home in the late evening, and y/n was expecting Harry to jump her bones the second they got in the door. Instead, she was met with him simply putting away the groceries, and sitting on the couch without a word. the sight made y/n frown. She was needy and worked up. Why was he ignoring her? Had she done something?
Shaking those questions from her brain, she walks over to the couch, standing between his open legs. She sits on her knees in front of him and rests her head on his thigh, looking up at him through her lashes in hopes she can get him to do something without having to beg.
“Do you need something, sweetheart?” Harry’s eyes scanned over hers, desperation written all over y/n’s face. He knew what she wanted- he just needed her to say it.
A small whine emits from the back of her throat, and she nods her head. “You know I do.” She sounds pitiful, like a puppy who just got in trouble. Her mind is clouding more by the second, her mind slipping deeper and deeper into the submissive headspace that only Harry can bring out of her.
He pulls his eyes away from hers, and glances back at his phone, ignoring her words. He knows how needy and desperate she is right now, but he wants her to speak up and tell him what she wants.
Her puppy eyes dropped at the sight of him ignoring her, and she inhaled a small hitched breath. She shoved her face into the fabric of his jeans, smothering herself into him, as if to hide away from the embarrassment.
Harry tried keeping a strong hold on his dominance, trying to follow through with his plan of ignoring her, but his walls usually broke down whenever she did something that pulled at his heartstrings. The look of his girl on her knees with her head pressed into his thigh made his heart skip a few beats and he even cracked a little smile. He rolled his eyes at the thought of him being cheesy and mushy over her, and put his phone onto the couch beside him.
“You know that if y’want something, you have to ask for it, baby.” He cards his hand through her hair, pushing it behind her ear. She mumbles something that he can’t understand into his thigh, and to that he gently coaxes her face away from his thigh so he can properly hear her. “What was that?” He asks, her eyes flickering between his facial features.
She sighs, knowing that if she does want to do anything tonight, she’s gonna have to say it to him. “I want you to… um… I want you to play with me.” She says awkwardly. This is so fucking awkward for her. She knows that’s not good enough for him, and that he wants her to tell him exactly what she wants. She groans, and tilts her head back. “Fuck, I want you to touch me and play with me like im your toy, just want you all over me.”
Harry is pretty pleased with that. She’ll get more used to it with time. His fingers are still moving through her hair, pushing the strands out of her face. “Good gi-“
“I want you to pin me down, push my face into the mattress and just play with my… my cunt so bad. I want to feel your fingers inside of me and I want you to wreck me. God- I-I want you to slap me across the face- and spit in my mouth and tell me that im your best girl, and that nobody else can do it like we do. Fuck-i just. I need it so bad, please Harry.”
Her eyes are glossy with desire, staring him in the eyes. The franticness of her words, like they were spilling out of her mouth caught him off guard, and once he finally comprehended the words she was saying, all of it went straight to his prick. He knew she was kinky, but fuck, slapping her? Spitting on her? He wanted to, so bad. So fucking bad.
Her brain is fried, and everything except Harry has left her head. She doesn’t feel embarrassed about her horny rambling at all anymore, and in fact feels pretty sure Harry wants the same thing she does. It was all true- she wanted him to absolutely ruin her. Fuck his fingers into her and make her cry for it.
Harry moved his hand from her hair to her cheek, thumbing the corner of her lips. “Is that how you feel, princess? Want your boyfriend t’ruin his sweet girl’s pussy?” His fingers brushed so softly against her face, and she tilts her head up and nods.
“Yes, I want it so bad Harry. Please.” She begs. He slips his thumb into her mouth, resting gently on her tongue. She starts to close her mouth around his finger before he removes his thumb and lays a gentle slap on her cheek. A warning slap.
“Keep your mouth open.”
She nods, and she keeps her mouth open for him. His thumb moves back to her mouth, tracing her lips before dipping his finger back inside. The finger is heavy on her tongue, and her body feels like it could combust at any moment.
Then he does what he has only ever done in her dreams. He holds her mouth open with his thumb and spits in her fucking mouth. The glob of spit sits on her tongue, and he moves it around her mouth using his pointer and middle fingers, stroking it along her teeth, the inside of her cheek, all over her mouth, as if claiming it as his own.
His fingers in her mouth has his cock hardening in his pants, overwhelmed by the submissiveness she’s giving him. He wants her to know that he is the only one who can give this to her. Wants to be possessive of her.
When she lets out a moan, he smiles, his dimples making an appearance. “Fuck, that’s so fuckin’ hot.” He groans, standing up on his feet. “Stand up for me, come here.”
She obeys, rising to her feet and taking a step towards him. That’s when he grabs her by the hips and pushes her over the arm of the couch, her face hitting the cushion below her. She gasps, the feeling of his hands pulling down her jeans to her ankles causing a breeze of cool air to hit her wet panties.
“You know what to say if I do anything you don’t like, right princess?” He checks in with her, knowing that this is new territory and he wants her to remember that she’s always allowed to say if she doesn’t like something.
“Yes, yellow to slow down, red to stop. Please Harry. Please-fuck- please touch me.” She spits out, squirming her hips over the arm of the couch.
“Patience, you’ll get it soon, greedy girl.” He lowers himself to his knees, face to face with her dripping clothed cunt. He leans forward and pushes his face into her panties, and lets out a long groan. If he’s ever seen perfection; it’s her, and her cunt. She smells fucking amazing, tastes amazing, and takes his cock so good.
“You smell so fuckin’ good, petal. Need t’fuckin’ smell you and taste you all the time. Want your little pussy in my face every day.” He mumbles through the fabric of her panties, the vibration sending a course of pleasure through her body.
“You can have it, fucking take it. I want you to be obsessed with my cunt.” If he wasn’t already hard, he was now. He groans once more, her thighs squeezing together at the sensation.
He breathes in one last time before begrudgingly moving his face back and pulling her panties down. “Don’t need to worry about that, already fuckin’ obsessed with you.” He pulls the panties off of her and tosses them to the side with her jeans. His face latches onto her lips, pulling them into his mouth and sucking on them.
Her senses are in overdrive, her pussy is throbbing and she can’t think straight. His tongue is doing circles on her clit, making her moan and whine for him. She swears she’s never been this turned on in her life. Having her man on his knees, nose deep in her cunt is something so empowering to her.
His tongue moves across her clit, while his hands pull her ass cheeks apart at an attempt to get deeper into her. Her little whimpers fuel his pussy-obsessed brain right now, and he genuinely thinks he could die buried in her pussy, happy.
When Harry gets deeper into her, his mouth working wonders, she clenches her thighs together, and her hand shoots behind her to grab his hair. When she grabs the handful, his face disconnects from her pussy, letting out a loud groan from his throat.
She smirks.
“Yeah, you like when I do that?” She turns around, eyes looking at the sight before her. His head is thrown back, eyes shut tight, and mouth open. She clenches her fist again, pulling the hair again.
“Fuck!” He half-yells/half-moans. “Yes, fuck- I love when you do that. Shit, do it again baby.” His eyes are screwed shut, little whimpers coming from his mouth.
She grasps it again, a little tighter, and this time she pulls him up a little bit, insinuating for him to stand up. She sits up and turns around, hand following his hair.
Once he’s stood, she’s instantly pressing her lips to his own. She can taste herself on his mouth, making her whine a little bit. “I need you so much right now, baby, please.” She says in between their lips smacking against eachother.
Mid-kiss, he encourages her down the hall to the bedroom, their hands pulling clothes from each other’s bodies, discarding them without care.
Once they’re in their shared bedroom, Harry’s opening the nightstand drawer and fiddling around trying to find a condom.
y/n reaches her hand out to stop him, his face snapping over to look at hers. “I don’t wanna use one tonight, if you’re okay with it. wanna feel you.” She smiles, looking at his face, trying to gauge his reaction. They’ve been together for awhile, and they haven’t done it without a condom at all.
She knows what he’s gonna say, and she shakes her head, “I got an ella pill from my doctor this morning, I’ll take it tomorrow, promise. I just wanna feel you.”
He chews on his lip, contemplating for a second. He trusts her, but his conscience is telling him he needs to be safe now, rather than later. He feels weird about it, he doesn’t want her to think that he doesn’t trust her, or that he thinks she’s dirty or someth-
“Your brain is too loud, baby. It’s okay. If you’re not ready to go without, we can use one. I’m okay with it. Don’t worry about it.” She smiles up at him, giving his lips a peck.
A little warm feeling rises in his chest at the understanding and comfort she gave him. “Thank you baby. I love you.” He gives a shy smile to her.
He reaches over into the nightstand again, grabbing one of the already ripped off condoms, before taking her shoulders and pushing her onto the bed. She lands on her back with a little bounce, causing her to let out a little giggle.
His cock is out, pointed at an angle towards the ceiling, tip red and leaking. He tears open the condom, discarding the wrapper and placing the rubber on his tip, and rolling down. He whimpers a little bit at the friction of his hand on his prick, but he knows it’s only gonna get better from here.
Climbing onto the bed with her, he’s hovering over y/n, her supple cheeks blushed, and her lips pressed together in a small smile. Her brain is still all sorts of foggy from earlier, but she thinks that having that small caring moment just then has helped ground her a little bit. Honestly, even when he spits in her mouth, looks into her eyes and calls her derogatory names, she feels nothing but love and adoration for, and from him.
“Open your mouth.” Harry breaks her thoughts, dark eyes looking at her. She complies, opening her mouth as wide as she can, before seeing and feeling Harry spitting in her mouth again. She can’t say she wasn’t expecting it, but nevertheless it caused her core to heat up and her belly to warm.
What she didn’t expect, was the slap to her face, right on the cheek.
A noise came from her that she had never heard before. A garbled moan of pleasure/groan of pain/whimper of hornyness came from her, spit still in her mouth, and her mouth wide open.
“Swallow. Now.” Harry insisted, keeping his eyes locked on hers, searching for any hint of if that was too much for her. After she swallowed, her mouth opened back up for him, even without him asking her. She was so pliable for him, and that’s one of the things he loved most about her. Her willingness to submit to him- within reason of course.
In one swift motion, he slips his condom-covered cock into her, her eyes widening, and mouth closing. He reaches towards her again, and slaps her again, on the other cheek. “Didn’t fuckin’ tell you to shut your mouth. Open.” He grumbles, pleasure coursing through his veins.
Her mouth opens again, and he wastes no time on spitting into her mouth again. “Now you can close. Keep your eyes on me.” Is said between thrusts.
The missionary position theyre in switches fast, when Harry pulls one of her legs up to his shoulder and straddles her other leg. His hips are thrusting rhythmically into her cunt, her puffy lips swallowing his cock whole. He licks his thumb, and presses it to her clit, rubbing small circles. Her tits are bouncing with each thrust he gives, and his balls are slapping her ass. The sounds are unholy- but he fucking loves it.
“You feel so fucking good. So fuckin’ tight, yeah? Letting me be the first one to fuck your little cunt, and I know sure as hell I’ll be the last. Fucking take it.” It’s true- she gave him her virginity months ago, and he had never been more flattered in his life- he made her cum three times that night, making sure he gave her the best time.
“Fu-fuck, yes, fuck, it’s yours, your fucking pussy. All yours, Harry. Fuck your cunt.” She moans out between bared teeth, looking him in the eyes still and reaching her hand out to pull on his hair.
The groan he lets out is something straight out of a porno, her words making his thrusts harder and faster. He rubs her clit with haste, making sure he’s not rubbing too hard, and with each thrust of his hips, she lets out little “uh”s which makes Harry’s head spin.
y/n feels her core clenching around Harry, her body sending a signal that she’s close- and when Harry adjusts himself to fit more snug against her, he hits a sensitive spot inside of her that only fuels her orgasm more.
“H-Harry I’m close, I’m gonna cum.” His thrusts hit her g-spot every single time, her mind and body going absolutely haywire at the feeling of being around his cock and him thumbing at her clit.
“Cum for me, baby. Soak my cock. Show me how m’cock feels.” He grunts, him moving his head to press kisses on her ankle that’s sitting on his shoulder.
It’s a small gesture, but y/n genuinely thinks that’s what sent her over the edge. Her back arches off of the bed, her orgasm hitting her like a truck. Harry stays thrusting into her, rubbing her clit with his thumb, while she falls apart under him. This is probably the hardest she’s ever cum in her life, legs shaking, and back arched proving her point.
Harry thrusts through her high, with absolutely no intention of letting up. When her body comes down from her orgasm, he removes his hand from her clit, and brings it up to her lips, pushing his fingers into her mouth.
“Yeah I bet you like that. Like the taste of your own cum. Because you’re fuckin’ nasty aren’t you?” He moans, thrusts becoming slower, yet deeper as he awaits an answer.
“I’ve been so fucking nasty, drenching my panties the second you spit in my mouth. Soaking your cock when you slap me.” Her voice is a little raspy, but nevertheless speaking through his fingers in her mouth. “You gonna make me cum again? So fucking greedy for orgasms. Maybe next time I’ll be the one in your position. Making you cum multiple times in a row.”
That makes Harry laugh. “You really think so, pet? Earlier you were fuckin’ begging me to spit in your mouth and ruin you.” He says, thrusts getting a little sloppy at the upcoming arrival of his own orgasm. “Y’think you can ruin me? Think you can-fuck- ruin me like I am you right now?”
The little banter makes his cock flex, and sign that he’s going to cum soon. “Fuck, I don’t know how long I can last, honey, m’ gonna cum. Wanna feel you.” His hand reaches back down to her cunt, rubbing circles into her clit again.
The sensitivity of him touching her clit makes her clench around Harry, her back arching and hips pushing into the mattress. “Don’t gotta last. Cum for me, cum for your girl. I want to feel your cock flex inside of me, pumping your load into the condom. Fuck, one day gonna get you to cum all over my tits. Maybe take a picture and save it for later. Save it for a time when we’re away and you need to fuck your hand.” Her voice carries through the room, and the thought of nutting on her tits sends him over the edge.
He buries himself to the brim in her pussy, thumb still working on y/n’s clit, while he cums into the rubber. Strings of garbled moans leave his throat, and small whispers of ‘so fuckin good’ to her.
Seeing Harry orgasm was one of y/n’s favorite sights, his face blissed out in pleasure, jaw locked open, and sweat painting his skin.
Harry comes down from his own high, his cock suddenly oversensitive in her, and he pulls out slowly, making sure to hold the rubber in place. He removed his hand from her clit for a moment, and as if it were nothing, he takes the condom off, ties it up and tosses it into the bin.
“Need to taste you one last time. Gonna finish you off with my mouth, love.” He kneels down, pressing his lips to her cunt for the second time tonight.
y/n was still sensitive from her last orgasm, but Harry’s mouth has always been able to work wonders on getting her off. They’ve timed it- 3 minutes and 17 seconds was his record.
“Jesus, fuck, use your fingers, fuck your fingers into me, Harry.” She moans, one hand grasping the sheets and the other grasping his hair.
He pushes two fingers into her, hooking into her and pressing right into her gspot. Between his tongue sucking on her clit and his fingers inside her- she was gone, for the second time tonight. She came with a long moan, hips thrusting into Harry’s hands, rocking her face onto his tongue.
When she comes down, Harry’s mouth is still moving on her, and she pushes the palm of her hand on his forehead to back him away. “Okay- okay too much, enough. Fuck.”
Harry smiles, and pulls his fingers out of her, before taking them both into his mouth and sucking the arousal off of them. If y/n wasn’t so fucked out, she’d mount him again- just because of that.
He rolls over to the other side of y/n, pulling her into his chest, and wrapping his arms around her. She was pretty deep under tonight, and the last thing he wants is for her to drop even lower. “Such a good girl… y’did such a good job. Love you so fucking much.” He whispers into her ear, sending goosebumps down her body.
y/n takes the time she’s given to come down with him, both of them ignoring the fact they need to clean up, and just spending this moment together.
His hands play with her hair, scratching at her scalp, tiny moans leaving her lips at the satisfying feeling. She moves her head from his chest, moving her head to look at him, who is already looking at her.
“Hi.” Is all she says, an ear to ear smile on her face at the sight of her lover.
“Hey.” He smiles back, dimples popping back onto his face. He brushes his thumbs over her cheeks before leaning forward and giving small pecks to both of them. They were pink- not red thankfully, but they definitely still needed some soothing cream on them.
y/n giggles at the small gesture, her less-horny more-normal personality coming back.
Harry looks down into her eyes, brushing away a bang hair that was in her face. “Do you really want to top? I’ll let you. You just gotta let me know. Im so down.”
With a groan, she covers her face and hides it into the mattress from embarrassment.
Author’s note: Chapter three is here! I lied in my last post, this is the final "setting the scene" chapter. Four will be when the🔥comes into play.
Summary: Mabel, a part-time librarian, finds solace in her carefully constructed routine—that is until Harry, an atypical library patron, unsettles the order she’s worked hard to maintain.
Word count: 2.1k
Warnings: Harry is low-key kind of cocky but in a self-aware way? Dom!Harry, Sub!Reader, Fem!Reader, hints at past (and future) dom/sub relationship(s). All mentions of relationship dynamics are consensual.
“I’ve never had to pay this before,” an older man snapped, jabbing a finger toward the screen Mabel sat in front of. “This is ridiculous.” His voice was shaking with anger, eyes boring into Mabel as if she were personally responsible for the library’s sudden decision to charge for printing services. She took a deep breath, reminding herself to stay calm. She had dealt with plenty of difficult customers before, and she was not going to let this one ruffle her feathers.
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, sir,” she returned politely. “But as I said, the library has recently implemented a new policy to cover the costs of paper and ink."
The man scoffed. “That’s absurd!” His voice rose, sharp enough to draw the attention of a few nearby patrons. “It’s extortion.”
Mabel’s cheeks burned, but she kept her tone professional. “Please don’t raise your voice in here, sir.”
"What do you even know? I want to speak to someone in charge."
Before she could respond, a smooth, assured voice cut in.
“I believe she’s handling it just fine.”
The shift in energy was immediate. The man hesitated, his posture stiffening as he turned toward the source.
Harry.
He stood behind the man, watching the exchange with a composed, unwavering expression. He wasn’t aggressive—he didn’t need to be. He simply existed with an authority that made people think twice before pressing their luck.
The old man turned his attention to Harry. "And who are you?" he snapped, though his tone had lost some of its bite.
Harry’s face remained unreadable. "Just a concerned citizen wondering why you're making a scene over a few cents, mate." His voice was calm, clipped—cutting in a way that left no room for rebuttal.
The man’s mouth opened, then closed, face mottled with frustration. He let out a huff, clearly realizing he’d lost whatever imaginary battle he thought he was fighting. With one final grumble, he retrieved his receipt from the counter.
“Fine,” he muttered under his breath, shoving the paper into his pocket before stalking off.
“Have a great day!” Mabel called after him, lacing her voice with just enough false cheer. He dismissed her with a wave.
Mabel exhaled, shaking her head as she turned back to Harry. "Thank you," she said. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He leaned casually against the counter. "I couldn't let you have all the fun," he replied, scanning her face for signs of disquiet.
Mabel rolled her eyes. "Oh yes, because diffusing entitled outrage is my idea of fun."
Harry chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that reverberated in her chest. "Well, you certainly have a knack for it," he commented. "Besides, you might have to remain professional and all. Doesn’t mean I do."
She offered him a small smile. "Well, thank you," she said again. "I appreciate it."
Harry gave a dismissive tilt of his head. "Just doing my civic duty.”
Mabel cleared her throat, shifting her focus to the book in his hand. “Already back for more?"
"Someone told me I should expand my literary horizons," he replied.
Her eyes flicked to the copy of The Alchemist he placed on the counter between them.
She raised a brow, smiling. "Well, that someone must be smart. Good choice."
She scanned the barcode of the book, the machine beeping softly.
He smirked. "What did they call it again?” he asked, feigning contemplation. “A ‘mystical masterpiece’?"
Mabel met his gaze. “Whoever they are, they sound like a genius... Think you can handle such a masterpiece?”
His lips twitched, clearly amused. “I’ll let you know when the enlightenment kicks in.”
Her lips twitched as she slid the book back to him. “There you go,” her inflection lifting just slightly on the last word. “Will that be all?”
Harry looked at her, silence stretching between them like a thread pulled taut.
"Not quite," he said, his voice low, measured. "I was hoping I could take you to dinner Friday night."
Mabel blinked. "Oh… I—"
The words tangled in her throat, catching her off guard in a way she wasn’t prepared for. Her earlier confidence scattered, leaving her fumbling.
She forced a small, polite smile. "That’s nice of you to ask, but I—"
Harry arched a brow, waiting.
"But… I don’t really date."
His expression remained steady, like he expected that response. "Who said anything about dating?"
Mabel’s lips parted slightly, embarrassment and surprise intertwining at how effortlessly he had sidestepped her excuse.
"Just dinner with a friend. That’s all," he continued, holding her gaze as if daring her to challenge such an innocent request.
Friend. The word settled oddly in her chest, a quiet, unexpected sting pressing beneath her ribs. If anything, it was a generous description for what they were. They had shared one conversation over coffee. The rest had been a handful of fleeting glances and pleasantries. And yet, the word landed awkwardly, like a note played slightly off-key.
In what seemed like a last ditch effort to quell her stubbornness, Harry leaned in slightly. "I need someone to talk to about my newfound literary pursuits. Turns out the guys at my office are pretty shit conversationalists in that regard."
Mable huffed out a quiet laugh. "So I'm your designated book club, is that it?"
"Something like that," he said smoothly. "But as club president, I’m enforcing the mandatory addition of dinner to our meetings.”
Doing her best to feign nonchalance, she shrugged. "Well, if you can make it through the mystical masterpiece by then, I suppose I can offer offer my services."
He grinned, slow and self-assured. "Great. I’ll text you the details?"
"That works," she replied, willing her voice to sound even.
Harry reached for the book, then hesitated, glancing back at her. "Oh, and try not to let any more unruly patrons shake you down today, yeah?"
Mabel smiled, "I'll do my best, but you never know when someone's going to take personal offense to the price of printer ink."
Harry flashed her a parting smile, before tapping a hand once on the desk. "I'll see you, Mabel."
She watched as he exited, effortlessly shrugging into his coat.
The rest of her shift slipped by in a haze. As she moved through the motions, each task felt slightly out of sync—like she was trying to retrace steps in a path that no longer existed.
***
Harry leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled as he surveyed the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office. The Seattle skyline stretched before him, all sharp angles and steel, the city humming beneath him like a machine he had long since learned how to operate. Everything in his world was ordered, controlled—exactly how he liked it.
Or at least, it had been.
He exhaled slowly, drumming his fingers against his lap. His mind should have been focused on the quarterly reports in front of him, the business deals waiting for his approval, the dozens of emails demanding his attention. Instead, he kept circling the same thought. The same person.
Mabel.
She had been an unexpected variable—one he wasn’t entirely sure how to categorize. Their coffee “date” had been a personal test of sorts—a way to satisfy his curiosity, to identify exactly what it was about her that had lodged itself under his skin. He had walked into that café expecting resolution, a finality that would allow him to move on.
Instead, he had walked out with more questions than answers and more restlessness than resolve.
Harry sighed, rolling his shoulders as he forced himself to refocus on the screen in front of him. A sharp knock on the glass door of his office pulled his attention. Nathan, his head of strategy, stepped in, iPad in hand.
"Numbers from the Valeris deal," Nathan said, setting the tablet on Harry’s desk. "Everything’s in line with projections. We’re set to close by next week."
Harry nodded, barely glancing at the figures flashing across the screen. "Good. Keep the legal team on standby in case we need to push anything last minute."
"Got it." Nathan hesitated. "You good?"
Harry arched a brow. "Should I not be?"
Nathan smirked, stepping back toward the door. "You just seem... distracted. Doesn’t happen often."
Harry gave him a pointed look, "If you’re angling for my chair, you’re going to have to come up with a better strategy than amateur psychoanalysis."
Nathan chuckled, arms raised in mock surrender. "Right, right. Ok. Just checking," he said before making his exit.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong.
It wasn’t like Harry to fixate. He had rules, boundaries—ones he spent years perfecting. Keep things simple. Flings, no relationships. He never let things get emotional, never let them linger longer than they should.
And yet, here he was, staring out his office window like a man who had let something linger.
The funny part was, he had let it linger longer than any of his previous entanglements, and he hadn’t even touched her.
With most women, the chase wasn’t necessary. If he wanted them, they were his. His reputation preceded him. His looks and confidence did the rest. Whether it was a glance across a bar, a well-placed remark, or a passing encounter on a business trip, the outcome was predictable. If he initiated it, they responded. And if they initiated, he indulged. And the second he sensed the faintest tinge of feelings start to surface on their part? That was when he walked away.
It was the dynamic that worked for him. Mutually beneficial while it lasted. No mess after it was over.
But Mabel? Mabel was different.
She held so many contradictions—soft, but not weak. Guarded, but not impenetrable. There was a push and pull to her, an awareness that made him wonder just how deep his instinct ran.
He had seen it in the way she responded to him—the slight hitch in her breath when he pushed just enough, the fleeting relief in her eyes when he took control of a moment, the way she unconsciously melted at the firmness in his voice, her body betraying what her mind refused to. There was something soft beneath her sharp edges, a subtle willingness to let go, to surrender—if only to the right hands.
Then there was the coffee “date.” That was where he first saw the cracks in her carefully constructed walls. When she spoke about her family, her childhood, the sheer exhaustion of shouldering a world that refused to lighten its grip. He saw the way her struggles carved out fiber beneath her simple grace—a challenge she had faced alone for far too long.
Sitting across from Mable in that café, he felt something rare stir within him. It was more than dominance, more than attraction—it was the same pull he’d felt watching that old man berate her in the library. He knew she could handle herself; she always did. But that didn’t stop the instinct, the quiet urge to step in anyway. To take some of the weight off her shoulders. To help her exhale, even if just for a moment.
Harry had always been an attentive dominant—he knew how to read women, how to recognize their needs before they voiced them. But with Mabel, it wasn’t just about fulfilling a role or meeting an expectation.
It was about wanting—no, needing—to be the one who gave her what she’d never been given before.
That thought had settled into his mind like a hook he couldn’t shake loose.
He had a feeling she hadn’t always been granted the space to explore what she needed. She had it in her—he was sure of it. The desire to relinquish control, to find relief in someone else’s hands. Maybe she had even tried before, but with the wrong people. So she had buried it beneath layers of protective resolve, told herself it wasn’t worth the risk.
But it was still there.
And if she let him, he could show her that submission wasn’t weakness. That giving in wasn’t about breaking—it was about trust, safety, release.
And Harry had every intention of proving that to her.
But only if she wanted it.
If she recoiled, told him no, he would understand completely. There would be no coercion, no convincing. Only choice.
Still, he never wanted to be more right about anything.
Fuck.
What was happening to him?
His phone vibrated, pulling him from his thoughts. A message from his assistant.
Board meeting in ten minutes.
Harry exhaled, pushing himself up from his chair and adjusting his cufflinks. Business first. He had plenty of time to get his mind right before Friday.
But as he left his office, the weight of an undeniable truth followed him out the door.
