Best friends. A fake relationship. One weekend in Edinburgh—and maybe a shot at something real.
Author's note: This is a repost of the original story I first shared on Patreon. I’ve done a bit of light editing throughout—tightening up the prose, tweaking a few lines, and adding in some original text that was previously only on Patreon (including a few extended moments I really loved). Thank you so much for reading (or re-reading!)—your support means the world. I hope you enjoy this version just as much, if not more. 🤍
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The soft hum of the evening surrounded them as they sat on Harry’s plush couch, nestled in the heart of his spacious home. The minimalist decor of his living room reflected the careful balance between his hectic life in the spotlight and his need for peace. His house, though large, was warm, with low lighting that gave it a cozy, intimate feel. The air was thick with the scent of the coffee table candles he’d lit earlier—notes of sandalwood and something sweet.
Harry sat next to Y/N, his body half-turned toward her as he read a book, legs tucked beneath him like a cat seeking comfort. There was a distinct softness about him when he was in his own space, away from the flashing cameras and curious eyes of the public. His hair, dark and messy, tumbled over his forehead, catching in the dim light, giving him a boyish charm that contrasted sharply with his usual confident and polished public persona.
He wore a simple white t-shirt, the fabric clinging loosely to his lean frame. His broad shoulders spoke of strength, but his posture, slightly hunched as he leaned into his book, gave off an air of vulnerability. His long fingers traced the edges of the pages absentmindedly, and now and then, his green eyes flicked up from the book, studying Y/N with a kind of quiet amusement, like he was aware of the unspoken understanding that lay between them.
Harry had always been attentive, almost in a way that felt second nature, as though he knew more about her moods than she did. There was something undeniably magnetic about him—his laugh was a little softer here, his voice a touch lower. His fame could never overshadow the gentle heart he showed her when they were alone.
Y/N’s eyes hovered over the same paragraph for what felt like the hundredth time. The words blurred together, the meaning lost as her mind wandered to the man sitting beside her. She was supposed to be reading a novel on leadership—something meant to inspire her as she navigated her demanding corporate job—but her thoughts kept drifting back to him. It was ironic, really. The book talked about control and decisiveness, yet here she was, lost in the one thing she couldn’t control: her feelings for Harry.
She had always found him attractive. No—more than attractive. Beautiful in the kind of way that felt effortless. His messy hair, the way his lips quirked into a half-smile, those green eyes that seemed to see straight through her… It all added up to someone she could never quite believe was real. He’d always been larger than life to her, even before the fame. Back when they were younger, when they were just two young adults with dreams and no idea where life would take them.
But then, his life had soared into stardom, and hers had stayed grounded in the corporate world. He became Harry Styles—the Harry Styles—and she remained his best friend, hidden away from the glamour of his world. She had watched as women swooned over him, throwing themselves at his feet, and she had silently swallowed her feelings. She knew she could never compete. He was out of her league, in every possible way.
And yet, sitting here next to him, as close as they were, it was impossible not to be reminded of just how deep her feelings for him ran. His presence had always had this effect on her, an electric undercurrent that made her skin tingle and her heart pound just a little harder. She stole a glance at him over the top of her book. He was engrossed in whatever he was reading, completely unaware of the thoughts swirling in her mind.
That’s what made it all so painful—he would never see her that way. She was just Y/N, his best mate, his confidant. The one person who was always there, but never the one he looked at with desire. She felt a knot tighten in her chest as she allowed herself, for just a moment, to imagine what it would be like if things were different. If she were someone else. If he saw her the way she saw him.
As if sensing her gaze, Harry suddenly looked up, catching her in the act. His lips twitched into a small, knowing smile, and he set his book down on the coffee table.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asked, his voice low, breaking the silence between them. His eyes locked onto hers, and the way he studied her made her feel exposed, as though he could read her thoughts without her saying a word. “You’ve been staring at that same page for ages.”
Y/N quickly dropped her gaze, closing the book to avoid his probing eyes. “It’s nothing,” she mumbled, though the heat rising to her cheeks gave her away.
He tilted his head, not buying it for a second. “Come on,” he coaxed, a teasing edge to his voice. “Spill it. I know you. You’ve got that look.”
She shifted uncomfortably, trying to laugh it off. “What look?”
“The one where you’re overthinking everything,” he said, leaning back against the couch, still watching her closely. His gaze softened. “Talk to me, Y/N. What’s going on?”
Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat as Harry’s green eyes bore into hers, his expression filled with gentle concern. She had always struggled to lie to him. Whenever he looked at her like that, like he truly cared, she felt like he could see right through her. The panic rose quickly, threatening to bubble over, and she knew she had to say something—anything—to steer the conversation away from the thoughts that were tangled up in her mind.
She blurted out the first thing that came to her. “My cousin’s getting married.”
Harry raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the abrupt change of subject. “Which cousin?”
Y/N let out a long sigh, glad for the distraction, though the topic she’d chosen wasn’t much better. “The worst one. Out of the three, I mean. You know, the one who’s always got something to say about everything. Perfect life, perfect fiancé, perfect job… perfect everything.”
Harry’s expression softened into one of amused sympathy. He knew exactly the kind of family pressure Y/N was talking about. He stretched out his legs, making himself more comfortable, as if settling in for a story. “Ah, her. That sounds like fun,” he teased, his voice laced with sarcasm.
Y/N rolled her eyes, tucking her legs beneath her as she faced him. “It’s not just her. It’s the whole family. They’re all so excited, and for some reason, they’re all hell-bent on me bringing a date.” She threw her hands up in frustration. “I don’t even have a boyfriend, but everyone keeps asking if I’m bringing someone. They’re already assuming I’m going to show up with a ‘plus one,’ and I just… I don’t want to deal with the humiliation of telling them I’m still single. Again.”
Harry’s brow furrowed slightly as he listened, a small frown tugging at his lips. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at her thoughtfully. “Y/N, you don’t owe anyone an explanation. If you don’t want to bring someone, then don’t. Your family’s expectations shouldn’t dictate your happiness.”
Y/N smiled weakly, appreciating the sentiment, but her heart was still heavy with the weight of the situation. “I know, but it’s just… hard. It’s like they see me as incomplete because I don’t have someone.” She let out a bitter laugh. “They don’t understand that I’m happy with my life. But at a wedding, it’s like a flashing neon sign that I’m alone.”
Y/N smiled weakly, appreciating the sentiment, but her heart was still heavy with the weight of the situation. “I know, but it’s just… hard. It’s like they see me as incomplete because I don’t have someone.” She let out a bitter laugh. “They don’t understand that I’m happy with my life. But at a wedding, it’s like a flashing neon sign that I’m alone.”
The room fell silent for a moment as Harry absorbed her words, his gaze softening even further. He opened his mouth, about to say something, but then paused, seemingly deep in thought.
Y/N bit her lip, realizing she was rambling, but it was easier to talk about this than the real issue she was trying to avoid. And with Harry sitting so close, his concern for her so palpable, it made her feel even more off-balance. Every time he cared, every time he listened so intently, it reminded her of how much she longed for something more than just friendship.
But that wasn’t an option. Not with him. So, she buried it all under the wedding invitation and the pressures from her family, hoping it would be enough to keep him from asking more.
Harry studied her for a long moment, eyes searching her face like he could sense there was something more she wasn’t saying. He tilted his head slightly, lips pressing together in that way he always did when he was thinking hard.
“Is that really why you’re freaking out?” he asked gently, his voice laced with quiet skepticism.
Y/N felt her stomach twist, the question catching her off guard. She hated how easily he could see through her, but she wasn’t about to crack. Not when it came to her deeper feelings. So, she nodded quickly, clutching onto the family wedding excuse like a lifeline. “Yes, it is. It’s a big issue, Harry. Every time I visit my family, it just… it tears me down a little more. They make me feel like I’m somehow falling behind because I don’t have someone. It’s exhausting.”
He sighed softly, his eyes softening with sympathy, though there was still a trace of doubt in his gaze. Without saying anything more, he leaned back against the couch and picked up his book again, his fingers absently running along the spine.
For a few minutes, silence fell between them, the crackling of the fire and the soft rustle of turning pages the only sounds filling the room. Y/N watched him out of the corner of her eye, heart still racing from the close call. She didn’t know what she’d do if he pushed further—if he managed to pry open the lid she’d been keeping on her feelings. She shifted in her seat, trying to focus on her book, but the words refused to make sense.
Then, just as she was beginning to lose herself in her own anxious thoughts, Harry broke the silence.
“I’ve got an easy solution,” he said suddenly, his voice calm and casual, like he hadn’t just spent several minutes in contemplative silence. He didn’t even look up from his book. “I’ll go with you.”
Y/N blinked, his words not quite registering at first. “What?”
He glanced over at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ll be your date. To the wedding,” he clarified, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Problem solved.”
Her heart skipped a beat, her mind racing to catch up. “You… you’re serious?” She could hardly believe what she was hearing. Harry Styles, her best friend—and secret crush—offering to be her date to her cousin’s wedding?
“Of course,” he said, shrugging as if it were no big deal. “If it’ll make things easier for you, I’m in. I’ll go, smile for the family, and be the perfect distraction. You won’t have to deal with any awkward questions about being single.”
Y/N stared at him, stunned. He made it sound so simple, like it was no trouble at all. But for her, it was anything but simple. Having him at her side, pretending to be her date, while she tried to keep her feelings under control… It sounded like both a dream and a nightmare all at once.
She swallowed hard, trying to find her voice. “Harry, you don’t have to—”
“I want to,” he interrupted, closing his book and turning his full attention to her now. His gaze was steady, sincere. “You’re my best friend, Y/N. If this is stressing you out, let me help. I’d be happy to go with you.”
Her heart swelled at his words, warmth spreading through her chest at the thought of him being there, by her side, at a time when she felt most vulnerable. But at the same time, the reality of pretending—of standing next to him, feeling things she shouldn’t, knowing it was all just for show—made her feel dizzy.
“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice quieter now, almost unsure.
Harry’s smile widened into that familiar, mischievous grin. “Positive. And besides, who wouldn’t want to show off a date like me?” he teased, his tone light, but his eyes still holding that warm, comforting sincerity.
Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, her anxiety easing just a little. Maybe, just maybe, having Harry with her wouldn’t be so bad. It might even be the perfect distraction—from her family, and from her feelings. If she could keep them in check, that is.
“He’s going with you?!” Maddie’s voice echoed through the apartment, loud and full of disbelief.
Y/N, sitting cross-legged on the floor in her bedroom, groaned and yelled back, “I know!”
Maddie appeared in the doorway a second later, her eyes wide with shock and excitement. “Harry Styles—your best friend and international superstar—is going to a wedding with you. As your date. This is… this is insane!”
Y/N let out a half-laugh, half-sigh as she flopped back onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Trust me, I’m still trying to process it.”
Maddie crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Okay, let’s go over the logistics because this is a lot to unpack. First of all, the wedding is a whole weekend, right?”
“Yeah,” Y/N muttered, sitting up and running a hand through her hair. “It’s in Edinburgh, so we’re going up on Friday, staying until Sunday. Two full days of family, dinners, receptions, and a ton of small talk.”
“And Harry knows this?” Maddie asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.
Y/N bit her lip, her voice dropping to a quiet murmur. “No, not exactly.”
Maddie’s eyes widened even further. “Wait, so you haven’t told him it’s a whole weekend thing? What if he backs out when he realizes it’s not just a one-night event?”
Y/N sat up straighter, her anxiety returning in full force. “I mean, I hope he won’t. He offered so casually, but I didn’t get into all the details.” She winced, feeling a bit guilty for not being completely upfront. “It’s just... he said yes so easily, and I didn’t want to overwhelm him with everything all at once.”
Maddie shook her head, pacing the room in thought. “Okay, well, you’ve got to tell him. He’s going to need to know what he’s signing up for. The last thing you want is him backing out last minute.”
“I know,” Y/N agreed, sighing. “I’ll tell him tomorrow. I just… I really hope he doesn’t change his mind. It’s already going to be awkward enough dealing with my family, and having Harry there is the only thing keeping me sane.”
Maddie stopped pacing and turned to her with a mischievous smile. “Well, there’s something else we need to focus on.”
“What’s that?” Y/N asked, dreading the answer.
“Your outfits!” Maddie exclaimed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “This is a wedding weekend in Edinburgh with Harry as your date. You need to look absolutely perfect every single day.”
Y/N groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Maddie, please don’t make this into a fashion show. I’m already freaking out as it is.”
Her roommate crossed the room and sat down on the bed beside her, nudging her playfully. “Listen, if you want your family to shut up about you being single, you’ve got to show up looking like the best version of yourself. And besides…” She shot her a knowing look. “It wouldn’t hurt for Harry to see you in a new light.”
Y/N peeked up at her through her fingers. “What do you mean?”
Maddie grinned. “Come on, Y/N. You’ve had a crush on him for as long as I’ve known you. Maybe this is the chance to finally turn his head, you know? If he’s going to be by your side all weekend, you might as well look stunning while you’re at it.”
Y/N’s heart fluttered at the thought, but she quickly shook her head. “Harry doesn’t see me that way, Mads. He’s going because he’s a good friend. That’s it.”
“Maybe. But maybe not,” Maddie said with a wink. “Either way, we’re going to make sure you look incredible. Now, where’s that suitcase of yours? We’ve got some planning to do.”
The next day, Y/N stood outside Harry’s house, a small bouquet of flowers in her hand. She smiled as she reached for the familiar key in her pocket, the one Harry had given her ages ago. She slipped it into the lock, the click of the door unlocking bringing a sense of comfort. Harry’s house had always felt like a second home to her—sometimes more of a home than her own apartment, if she was honest.
Walking inside, the familiar scent fresh linen greeted her, making her feel instantly at ease. She made her way into the kitchen, glancing around at the cozy space before setting the flowers down on the counter. After a quick search for a vase, she arranged them carefully, letting out a satisfied sigh once they were settled. The bright colors of the flowers added a little warmth to the room, something she liked doing whenever she visited.
“Harry?” she called out, already heading towards the back of the house and into the familiar hallway that led to his bedroom.
“Closet!” his voice echoed, slightly muffled, from somewhere in the bedroom.
She stepped inside, smiling to herself. His bedroom looked like it always did—neatly chaotic, with a mix of designer clothes and random bits of his life scattered about. But one thing caught her eye immediately: his Gucci suitcase, already lying open on the floor, ready to be packed.
He’s really going through with it, she thought, a mixture of excitement and nerves bubbling up inside her.
As she approached the closet, Harry emerged, fresh out of the shower, a towel slung low around his hips. His damp curls clung to his forehead, and water still glistened on his skin. He caught her eye and grinned.
“Didn’t hear you come in,” he said, toweling off his hair as he glanced down at the suitcase. “I figured I’d start getting things ready for this weekend. here we come.”
Y/N chuckled, leaning against the doorway of his closet. “You’re already ahead of me. I haven’t even started packing yet.”
Harry shot her a playful look. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you choose your outfits. You know I have opinions.”
Y/N rolled her eyes, her heart lightened by his teasing. But as she looked at him—standing there so casually, like this whole wedding weekend was no big deal—a knot formed in her chest. It was all starting to feel very real, and the idea of spending an entire weekend with him, pretending he was her date, was starting to feel overwhelming. Still, she couldn’t deny how good it felt to be in his presence, the one place where everything seemed a little less complicated.
Y/N lingered by the doorway of Harry’s closet, watching as he continued to dry his hair, the smell of his cologne mixing with the steam from his shower. She glanced again at the Gucci suitcase on the floor, neatly positioned and ready to be packed. A wave of guilt hit her. She hadn’t told him everything yet—about the wedding being an entire weekend event.
Clearing her throat, she shifted her weight. “So, uh, Harry… there’s something I need to mention about the wedding.”
Harry raised an eyebrow, still toweling his hair, his grin never faltering. “What’s that? Do I need to brush up on my dance moves?”
She let out a small laugh, then bit her lip. “It’s not just the wedding ceremony, you know. It’s kind of… a whole weekend thing.”
He stopped drying his hair, the towel resting on his shoulders as he turned to face her fully. “A whole weekend?”
Y/N nodded, her heart picking up its pace. “Yeah. It’s in Edinburgh, and there’s a dinner on Friday, the ceremony and reception on Saturday, and a brunch on Sunday. It’s like… a three-day event.”
For a moment, Harry just stared at her, blinking. His eyes searched her face, processing what she’d just said.
“Wait, so it’s a full-on wedding extravaganza?” he asked, his voice tinged with amusement.
Y/N nodded again, suddenly feeling sheepish. “Yeah, I should’ve mentioned that before. But I didn’t want to scare you off.”
Harry let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Scare me off? Y/N, I’m already committed to this. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” He tossed the towel aside and crossed the room, leaning casually against the wall beside her. “A weekend in Edinburgh with you? Honestly, that sounds like a good time.”
Y/N’s eyes flickered with relief, though a part of her was still nervous. “You sure? I mean, it’s a lot—my family, the pressure… all of it.”
Harry shrugged, giving her a reassuring smile. “I’ve done crazier things. Plus, I’m kind of looking forward to charming your family.” His grin widened, eyes sparkling. “So, when do we leave?”
Y/N smiled, her chest filling with warmth. He really wasn’t backing out. He was in this with her, and somehow, the weekend ahead didn’t seem so daunting anymore.
Y/N and Harry sat cross-legged on the floor of his living room, plates of Indian takeout spread across the coffee table. The comforting aroma of curry and naan filled the room as they half-watched How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days playing on the TV. They had seen it a million times, but it never got old—Harry always laughed at the same parts, and Y/N always teased him for knowing the lines better than she did.
As Y/N scooped up a bite of butter chicken with a piece of naan, she noticed Harry glancing at her with a mischievous look in his eyes. She raised an eyebrow, already suspicious. “What’s that look for?”
Harry grinned, leaning back against the couch, plate balanced on his lap. “I was just thinking about the wedding.”
“Please don’t remind me,” Y/N groaned, shaking her head. “I’m still processing the fact that you’re actually going.”
“Don’t worry, I’m still all in,” Harry assured her, nudging her playfully. “But I had a thought… Why don’t we drive to Edinburgh?”
Y/N blinked, lowering her fork. “Drive? Like, from here to Edinburgh? That’s over eight hours, H.”
“Exactly!” he said, his eyes lighting up like it was the best idea he’d ever had. “Think about it—if we drive, we have complete control. If things get weird at the wedding, we’ll have a getaway car. No waiting around for flights or relying on anyone. We can just leave whenever we want.”
Y/N gave him a skeptical look. “You’re planning our escape before we’ve even arrived?”
He shrugged, popping a piece of naan into his mouth. “I like to be prepared. And besides, it’s not just about the escape plan. We’d get a proper road trip! Snacks, music, random stops at those little roadside places—remember the last time we did a long drive?”
Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the memory. “Yeah, and you made us stop at every service station just to try the food.”
Harry’s grin widened. “Exactly! Imagine all the snacks we could pack—crisps, chocolate, samosas. And the music—oh, the music! I’ll make the ultimate road trip playlist. We’ll sing along the whole way, windows down, no stress.”
Y/N snorted, shaking her head. “You just want an excuse to sing loudly and off-key, don’t you?”
“Hey, I have excellent taste in road trip tunes,” he said, pointing a fork at her in mock offense. “Besides, don’t you think it’d be fun? Eight hours in the car, just us, no rush.”
She tilted her head, contemplating the idea for a moment. As much as she loved the thought of a carefree road trip with Harry, she was more focused on practicality. “Look, I get it. But it’s just… flying is so much quicker. We’ll be there in less than two hours, and we won’t be exhausted by the time we get there. We need our energy for my family and the whole wedding thing.”
Harry leaned back against the couch, pouting playfully. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”
She looked over at Harry, who was now munching on a piece of naan with an expectant grin on his face. He seemed to sense her change of heart and glanced up, eyebrows raised in question.
“You know,” Y/N said, breaking the comfortable silence, “Let’s do it!”.
Harry’s eyes widened in surprise and delight. “Really? Are you serious?”
Y/N nodded, a smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, why not? It could be fun. And I guess having the car would be good for flexibility. If we need a quick escape or just want to explore a bit…”
Your sunny, summer’s day reading in the garden is interrupted not only by a party next door, but the cheeky, charming boy hosting it.
Mature Content: explicit language, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f receiving), slight degradation, spit, squirting. For an 18+ audience only.
Word Count: 8.9k words
Summer is without a doubt your favourite season. Rainy days are left behind as much as they are far ahead. Rarely is there ever a cloud to cover up the sun that is almost always shining, or to tarnish the baby blue sky. Sometimes there’s a small breeze, but all that does is refresh scorching skin—yours especially given your love for sunbathing.
It’s also a signal that another year at college has been nicely wrapped up. All exams are done with only the results pending, but you’re not worried. You studied hard and will reap the rewards with A’s like always. You’re certain of it.
Having just finished your third year studying psychology at the University of Berkley, you came back home to your parents’ place in Sherman Oaks yesterday to spend the summer here. The job you have coincides with term-time, so whenever school is on break, you are as well. It works out pretty perfectly, and you feel very fortunate about that.
When you haven’t been working, you’ve mostly had your nose buried in text books—with the exception of a few wild college parties here and there to break up all the studying you’ve done, of course. But now you’re ready to just fully kick back and relax.
Relaxing for you means no partying, but it doesn’t mean stop reading. It just means changing the material, which is exactly what you’ve done—Little Women your current choice. You’ve read it a dozen times, but it never gets old. It’s a comfort of yours, and you’re in your happy place; this summer destined to be a really good one.
Your parents are out for the day, both of them at work that brings them home in the early evening. It’s only a little after noon, but you’ve been sprawled on the sunlounger outside for a couple of hours already, switching every now and then between lying on your front and your back to get an even tan. You’ve gone through a couple glasses of peach iced tea and are a third of the way through your favourite story. Black wayfarers protect your eyes from the sun, the skimpy yellow bikini on your body not quite doing that. You’ve put on sun cream, but you’re due a top up. One more page and you’ll do it.
The most important detail of all, however, is that it’s so peaceful. The neighbourhood is a noiseless one with no main roads nearby. If you listen hard enough, you’re convinced that you can hear the ocean waves at Santa Monica, even if they are a twenty-five minute drive away. That’s how quiet it is here, silence something you value greatly.
But no sooner do you finish thinking about the perfect peace you bask in is it interrupted.
You flinch at the sudden vibrating bassline of music, the sound followed by raucous cheering and several splashes all of which are emanating from the house next door. The illusion of your fictional world is shattered entirely, and what’s happening in the real one infuriates you.
With that in mind, you don’t hesitate to get up from the sunlounger, carefully marking the page you’re on before setting the book down and storming toward the large green hedge and brown wooden partition that separates your large garden from the neighbours’. If you weren’t already hot from the sun, the rage you feel from being disturbed would do the trick.
There are a couple of gaps in the foliage and the fence, so you wedge yourself between one, gripping your hands to the top of the wood for leverage with one foot on an edge in the middle of it. You pull yourself up and peak over, your glaring gaze settling on the worst possible thing.
A pool party.
A frat boy pool party.
You count at least ten guys and maybe twenty girls. There’s skin on show from everyone, with every man shirtless and every woman as bikini clad as you. Booze flows and music booms. There’s a few people in the pool—the source of the splashing—and someone fiddling with a phone connected to the speaker; the party’s DJ. How you didn’t hear this many people pull up to the house before they made their way out into the garden, you don’t know. You must’ve been really absorbed in your book.
The reminder of your happy place being interrupted by the pool party brings you away from assessing the situation, to shouting about it.
“Oi!”
All thirty heads turn in your direction, sixty sets of eyes wide and surprised on you and your head popping up over the top of the fence. You don’t shy away from the attention, but welcome it. It means you can get your point across.
“Turn that shit down! Some of us are trying to relax and read!”
Your words are met with a series of booing before the volume of the music is turned up even louder, to which you growl in frustration before hopping back down to the ground. Those fuckers. You have a good mind to call the cops, even though you know there are no laws being broken aside from underage drinking. It’s barely afternoon, which means you have no grounds to file a noise complaint, and you won’t snitch on students letting loose with some booze. Not when you did it plenty of times yourself before turning twenty-one.
With a heavy and annoyed sigh, you pick up your book from the sunlounger as you pass by it before storming back inside of the house and slamming shut the patio door. You’re met with ice cold A/C, but it does nothing to cool you down. You’re beyond fired up.
Your parents made no mention about having new neighbours. Since you left for college three years ago, the house next door had been vacant for the last half decade, and you’ve haven’t seen any sign of life there whenever you’ve come home for a visit. It’s probably why you had it in your mind that the neighbourhood is so peaceful, which has now been ruined by a goddamn frat party. You can still hear it even from the confines of your parents’ home with now closed doors and windows.
Grumbling to yourself, you push away from the kitchen counter you huffily leaned against, advancing further inside the house in a search for some earphones to drown out the ruckus with something more relaxing.
Within seconds of locating a set from the junk drawer in the living room coffee table, the jack plugged into your phone and buds playing nature sounds about to meet your ears, do you hear the doorbell chime. It’s a rarity that that happens, or at least from what you remember. Visitors aren’t too common, and neither you or your parents have any packages en route, so who could it be?
Apprehensively, you walk towards the front door and pull it open slightly, hiding your half-naked body behind the wood. Your wary eyes land on a young tattooed man in knee-length swim shorts smiling brightly at you, nothing else covering his body except for several dozen black ink tattoos, black wayfarers covering his eyes similar to your own that you’ve used to push your hair back, and a backwards black baseball cap that holds away his with the exception of a few rogue chocolate-coloured curls.
“Hi. Y/N, right?” the guy asks through his grin, a thick British accent rolling off of his tongue in a slow drawl that provides you the feeling of even more sudden heat. Right between your legs.
You’re hesitant to acknowledge his question, and also incapable. How he knows your name you don’t know, but you also don't care, because the man before you is obscenely pretty. His charming smile shows off a deep dimple etched in his sun-kissed cheek, with two front teeth slightly and adorably larger than the rest.
He sticks a hand out your way, palm large and middle finger wearing a silver ring. You look between it and the man’s face, feeling apprehensive once more as much as you are slightly aroused.
“I’m Harry,” he tells you, and you simply swoon. No five letters together have ever sounded so good.
You find yourself swallowing hard, your throat as dry as your mouth despite all the iced tea you’ve had today. One hand stays holding the door handle, but the other extends to clasp with Harry’s; a firm and brief handshake exchanged that makes him grin harder and you heat up further.
He pulls his away and shoves it into the pocket of his shorts after using it to push his sunglasses on top of his head. You’re met with sea glass green; his eyes the prettiest shade of it. The prettiest eyes you’ve seen full stop. They sparkle at you, your whole body now suddenly sparkling for him.
“So it was Y/N, right?”
You blink rapidly. Harry’s gorgeous gaze had put you in a dizzied daze, and now his question pulls you back out of it. “Huh?”
Harry laughs lightly, shoulders shaking and ab muscles tightening as he does. “Your name. You never confirmed whether I was right or not.”
“You were. You are,” you rush out, rolling your lips into your mouth before releasing them into a smile as you nod. “I’m Y/N, yes.”
“Pretty name. Pretty lady. Makes sense.” He winks, earning a giddy giggle from you.
Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you shuffle awkwardly on your bare feet while trying your best not to stare at Harry’s toned and tattooed torso. But given how low slung his shorts are thanks to his hand in the pocket of them tugging the material down a little more, the motion revealing a white Calvin’s waistband, a tiny tattoo of words you can’t quite make out, prominent v-lines and a happy trail, you’re struggling. You’re struggling a lot.
A small throat clearing sound from the man you ogle brings your attention back to his face, which is still grinning. It’s in a cocky manner now, though. Your staring has not gone unnoticed by Harry, or unappreciated. He’s looking smug in a way you don't hate. Not one bit.
You snap yourself out of your spiralling state, a quick head shake happening to right yourself before asking, “Sorry, but how do you know my name?”
“Met your folks a few months ago when me and my folks moved in, ‘n they told us all about you. We live next door.” Harry gestures with a point of his index finger to the right—the home hosting the party that had you up a height—while bouncing on the balls of his feet in a nervous sort of way, a tinge of blush tinting his cheeks. “I heard and saw you shouting over the fence. Thought I should come over and apologise for the noise. We’ll try and keep it down. We’re just letting off some steam after finishing freshman year.”
Any anger you once felt dissipates the longer you look into Harry’s twinkling eyes and are blinded by his sweet smile. Annoyance is no longer in your vocabulary. Angel plays on a loop in your mind instead, because you’re convinced you’ve just met one. The only one.
“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” You brush off his apology with a wave of your hand, to which Harry’s smile grows some more and his nervous disposition relaxes a great deal. “I’m sorry for interrupting. You’re fine to carry on. Just be mindful later on, yeah? Don’t let it be too loud too late.”
“Absolutely, ma’am.” He winks again, making you giggle again and blush like a schoolgirl with a crush. Harry’s eyes flick over your face, his grin turning into pursed lips of contemplation before he gestures his head toward his house. “You wanna join?”
You shake your head again, quickly this time, and give a breathy laugh. “Oh, no. Thank you, but no. I’ve done enough partying already this year to last a lifetime.”
“You study Psychology, right? At Berkeley?” You nod, impressed. Clearly your parents have spoken about you in depth. Harry lets out a low whistle before sending you another toothy grin. “Clever girl. What year?”
You’re blushing harder thanks to his compliment and pretty green gaze. “Just finished up my third. What and where do you study?”
“History at UCLA. Moved from Manchester to Cali last year on a football scholarship. Sorry- a soccer scholarship.” He beams cheekily, earning another giggle from you while you start to slot together these pieces of information. Athleticism explains his physique. Britishness explains his charm. You’re a sucker for an English gent, especially fit ones with abs and those sexy V-lines.
You want to ask him a million more questions—if he likes it here in California, if he misses home, if he likes his course, if he’d like to take you out some time—but you decide not to. You’ve done the maths on your age difference, and while it might only be three years (provided he’s nineteen years-old, he could be older and just a late college starter), you stay away from younger guys given their usually immature attitudes. You don’t have the time or energy for that, even though Harry’s someone you wouldn’t mind breaking your own rules for.
So instead, you simply offer him a gentle smile. “That’s really cool, best of luck with your degree. Thanks again for coming over with the apology and the invite. I’ll let you get back to your party.”
Harry smiles too, but there’s no mistaking the small hint of sadness in his eyes at you turning down his offer. It’s almost like he doesn’t want to leave.
“And what are you gonna do?” he asks, furthering the point you’ve made in your mind about his hesitancy to go.
You feel your face heating up with another round of blush. “Read.”
“You a bookworm?” You nod and he grins harder, hands in both pockets and body leaning toward you in a sweet and silly way. “Whatcha reading?
You giggle again, this time at the childlike curious cadence of his voice. “Little Women.”
“I’ll try and be what he loves to call me, 'a little woman,' and not be rough and wild; but do my duty here instead of wanting to be somewhere else."
Harry quoting a passage from the book so effortlessly catches your surprise as much as it does your breath, and he knows it. It’s why his grin stretches wider, his dimple popping deeper and eyes sparkling even more.
“Good choice,” he hums, then continues on like he hasn’t just stumped you totally on purpose. “Well, if you change your mind, you’re welcome to come over and join us. Just head through the side gate and it’ll take you into the garden. If not, it was a pleasure to meet you. I’ll hopefully see you around sometime?”
Your head is spinning from his recital and the information he’s thrown your way, so all you can do is offer him another quick nod and tight smile, your face on fire much like the rest of your body is. Harry returns the gesture before spinning on his heel, his bare feet padding across the tiled terrain as he disappears back to the party, whistling to himself as he goes.
You close the door quickly, sliding down the wood until your ass meets the floor with a light thump. You didn’t realise your heartbeat had kicked up a few notches until right now. You can hear it in your ears; the party next door on mute thanks to it.
Chewing your bottom lip, you contemplate the invitation. You didn’t lie to Harry when you said you’d partied hard and that you could use the downtime to relax. It’s also a freshman frat party, something that doesn’t need to be sullied by a junior from a whole other school. You’d probably be the only person there legally allowed to drink. The vibes just aren’t right.
But still, you’d like to hang out with Harry, and you have the feeling that he’d like to hang out with you, too. You declined his offer today, however maybe there’ll be another occasion where you won’t. I’ll hopefully see you around sometime? That’s what he said. Harry hopes, and now, so do you.
With all that in mind, you push yourself up to stand, brushing your butt free from any dust on the floor before picking up where you left off prior to Harry’s arrival, plugging your ears and heading back outside with your phone in hand, excited to get stuck back in your favourite fictional world.
The nature sounds playing through the earphones work their magic to drown out the sound of the ruckus next door, so you’re able to get absorbed within the pages in no time. You lie on your back, legs bent at the knees and arms holding the book up high, blocking the sun from your face. Peace has been restored.
Yet upon the feeling of something light and large hitting your stomach, it shatters again.
A startled you sits up fast from the impact, earphones ripping out of your ears and sunglasses falling off your head from your quick movements. All of the party noise takes over from nature, your book dropping onto your lap from the fright you got.
You look around in a daze, stopping your search of what just made contact with you when your sight lands on a rainbow beach ball rolling across the patio.
“Whoopsie!”
Your head whips to the left, round eyes of surprise landing on a very cheekily smiling Harry. His backwards cap-wearing-head and half of his naked, inked-up torso are on show from the other side of the fence; the same position you were in earlier on.
A smile didn’t grace your face then, but one does now. You can’t help it, all of the shock you felt settled into a bright grin and breathless laugh now that you know the cause of the interruption. An interruption you’d gladly let happen over and over and over again. You feel no anger, only sparks; something only a charmer like Harry can cause.
That charmer doesn’t attempt to hide the fact that he’s staring at your basically bare body. He chews gum as he does, showing the piece that he works between his molars thanks to his Cheshire Cat smile, a raised brow telling you he likes what he sees.
And you like that he likes what he sees, feeling no self-consciousness about the cellulite on your legs or your stomach rolls and pudge like you have been before. You welcome his gorgeous gaze, because it’s making you feel gorgeous.
“I suppose you want me to go and get your ball?”
The sound of the light laugh that accompanied your question visibly perks Harry up, but he looks to be keeping himself cool by shrugging a shoulder in a lazy way, his smile shifting to become just as lazy, too. Both things are undeniably hot. Just like him.
“Or you could let me hop the fence to get it myself…”
“That all depends,” you retort calmly, even though your response is chaos. It’s flirty. You’re flirting, something you don’t much of unless you’ve had a couple of drinks, but you’re stone cold sober right now.
Well, mostly sober. You’re feeling a little drunk on the boy next door.
Harry jerks his chin your way in a cocky manner, much like how he continues to chew his gum. “On what?”
“On whether the ball made its way over here accidentally or intentionally.” You’re testing the waters to see if he’s willing to take a dip, because you are. You’re ready to dive in headfirst, actually.
The feeling seems mutual. Harry doesn’t look like he’s willing to take a dip, his expression screaming that he’s fully plunging. That he already made the jump by being here and hitting you with his ball by ways of getting you to engage in this back and forth.
He cocks his head, smirking. “Which answer would the pretty lady prefer?”
“Whichever one is true, of course.”
“Intentionally.” Harry admits quickly, dragging his gaze down the length of you slowly before locking his eyes with you once more; his grin a mile wide.
Your cheeks are hot with blush, your smile as bright as Harry’s. You scoff a laugh, then nudge your head in silent invitation. “Permission granted. Come get your ball.”
Harry is across the fence in a matter of seconds, pulling himself up and over it before landing on your side as gracefully as a cat. Something tells you that wasn’t his first time hopping fences given his sassy disposition and the skill displayed; a skill that made you hot under the metaphorical collar from watching the way his biceps bulged and tummy tightened as he moved.
Dusting off his hands, Harry faces you with a smirk. You swallow hard, shifting your closed book from your lap to join your phone and sunglasses on the space of the lounger by your hip, and sitting yourself up a little straighter—knees bent up, feet and hands flat against the lounger for support. You need all you can get.
Butterflies swarm your belly and your skin tingles as you watch Harry walk toward the beach ball, your eyes drinking in his tall and lean figure making those casual strides. There’s something magnetic in the way he moves, it’s truly enchanting. It forces you to gulp harshly again and squeeze your legs together tightly; a strong tingle between them desperately needing to be suppressed. Or satisfied.
He bends down and picks up the inflatable, tossing it into the air and catching it before he spins to face you once more. “Got my ball.”
“Yes, you do.” You’re giggling again. You don’t think there’s been a time ever that you’ve giggled so damn much.
Harry tilts his head, smirking as he eyes you up. “Have I got the pretty lady, too?”
His question catches you by surprise, more sparks rushing through your body. You need to keep cool, though. The flirty atmosphere is too fun.
“That all depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether you'll help me top up my sun cream or not.” You take your bottom lip behind your two front teeth for a second, giving Harry big doe eyes of desire as you let it pop free again. “I can’t quite reach my back.”
His grin widens even more, hands dropping the quickly-forgotten-about ball as he makes slow but eager steps toward you. “Looks like it’s your lucky day, doll. I love to help.”
“Mhm, I bet you do.”
Pushing yourself up to stand, Harry comes to a towering stop a few inches away from you. He smirks down at you grinning up at him, your surroundings growing hotter by the second, but the sun in the sky is no longer the cause. It doesn’t hold a candle to the feverish glow Harry effortlessly emits.
You don’t miss the way his eyes make another slow journey down your body, nor do you miss another low whistle sounding out from between his sweet, slightly puckered lips. Your confidence only boosts more, any and all self-imposed rules you had before Harry came into your life however long ago now completely out the window.
“I’ll run in and grab the lotion,” you announce, breaking the tense silence. “Can I get you a drink while I’m in there?”
Harry nods, two front teeth biting into his plump bottom lip and eyes on your tits slowly peeling away from the area back to your face. “A drink would be sick, yeah.”
“What d’you fancy?” Your smile shifts into a smirk. “Non-alcoholic, of course.”
“Of course.” He winks, wearing a mischievous half-smile of his own.” Water, please. Ice in it would be fantastic, if it’s not too much trouble. Thank you.”
“No trouble at all, coming right up. Make yourself at home.”
You turn on your heel and saunter back inside the house, feeling Harry’s eyes on your ass the entire time. That doesn’t surprise you. It’s one of the reasons you asked if he wanted a beverage, after all.
Making quick work of filling up two tall glasses with ice cubes and water, you carry one in each hand along with a tube of sunscreen wedged between the crease of your right elbow and ribs back out into the garden. You haven't felt this giddy or excited in a long time. Ever, perhaps.
Harry has followed your instructions, now sitting at the foot of the sunlounger. His long legs are stretched out in front of him, the backs of his bare heels resting on the tile floor and large hands splayed flat against the cushion he sits on. His heart-shaped lips blow a perfect gum bubble.
He pops it with his teeth upon clocking your return, resuming his chewing with a cheeky grin headed your way. “There she is. The hostess with the mostess.”
“It’s the least I could do for you for what you’re gonna do for me.”
Coming to a stop by his feet, Harry smirks up at you with a lifted brow, taking the glass you offer him. “That’s a fair point. Sun protection is very important. Wouldn’t wanna get burned, would you?”
He takes a leisurely sip, your eyes locked throughout. Harry swallows with a hum and a light gasp at his thirst being quenched, plump mouth glossy from the liquid and eyes bright from the lady.
In the small amount of time spent in the kitchen getting drinks and suncream, you wondered about how this whole thing with Harry, the hot next door neighbour, would pan out. You’re not a fool to think that things between you both aren’t flirtatious or sexually charged, and you know he isn’t either. It’s apparent in his gaze, words and actions. In yours, too.
There’s one outcome and you both know it. Both want it. Whether or not you bite the bullet and make the dive into that desire first, that you’re unsure of. That, you’re a little nervous about.
Yet the longer you look at him, the easier it becomes. Harry stares at you with hearts for eyes, and a hard-on in his shorts. You can see the large outline of it straining against the material; a reaction you caused by simply standing in front of him. Flirting with him. Asking for a favour from him.
So with all of this in mind, you move past the point of just dipping your toe. You’re ready to jump, even if Harry seemingly did so ages ago.
And after exhaling a shaky breath, you do, saying, “I wasn’t just talking about the suncream.”
And with a mile-wide grin after setting the glass of water onto the patio, Harry replies with a strong, sexy and oh so sure, “I know.”
He takes the hand that just held his drink and slowly skims the tips of his fingers up the outside of your thigh. His touch is cold from the glass, but all it does is make you burn up even more; intense and irresistible eye contact maintained all the while.
On either hip lies a bow holding your bikini briefs together. Harry lightly plays with one of them, the very thought of him pulling it undone enough to drive you insane with want and need for him to just undo it. To just undo you. Arousal collects in the material he tauntingly toys. Any longer and he’ll see what a mess he’s making of you, you’re sure of it.
Pulling his hand away pulls a pout from you. Harry simply chuckles, head tilted a tad. “It’s a good place to start, though. The suncream, I mean. Wouldn’t you agree?” You nod, his head nudging toward the lounger barely a second after your agreement. “Gorgeous. Lie down for me, yeah?”
And you do. Without hesitation, you kneel on the sunbed, lowering to rest your front against it until the right side of your face is pressed against the cushion, your heart beating harder than ever against your ribcage and the pillowy surface below your body.
Harry had watched your every move, and now, with you where he wants you, he makes slow ones of his own. He straddles your legs, a knee pressing into the lounger either side of yours. There’s no eye contact made anymore, the skin kind avoided, too. Harry hovers above and behind you. You can sense him skimming his sights across the plains of your back and the rounds of your ass, and also physically feel him delicately trailing his hands up and over your waist, mapping out the curves of you like he’s about to be tested on your body, and he wants an A. He wants it so fucking bad. You sigh at how good it feels, the anticipation of what he’s going to do next driving you as wild as his gaze and touch does.
He moves away from your ribs to the ribbon holding your bikini top together at the middle of your spine. Teasing begins there, the pads of his finger slipping under the knot. Is he going to undo it, or isn’t he? You tingle from head to toe, wriggling a fraction with your breaths now erratic.
Harry leaves the tie alone and shifts until he’s leaning over your back, a hand brushing the hair away from your right ear for his lips to hover by it. His breath is cool and refreshing from the ice cold drink and peppermint gum he chews, tickling in a way that turns you on more than ever; the signs of such a thing shown by your hips moving slightly and your bikini bottoms growing wetter and wetter by the second.
And all of this tormenting, well, it makes those choppy breaths of yours halt; something Harry notes. You can feel him smirk against your lobe, right as you hear the cap of lotion being opened by his hands.
“I heard and saw you when you shouted over the fence before.” The smirk in his tone is as audible as the cream being squeezed onto his palm.
You can’t even bring yourself to feel embarrassed for your angry attitude earlier on or the fact that Harry paid witness to it. That feeling fucked off fast. Now all you can think about is how horny you are. How happy you are that it led him to you, to this moment. To whatever happens next.
“I didn’t hesitate for a second to come knocking on your door. Never moved so quickly in all my life,” Harry admits, sounding as cool as a cucumber while you're burning like a furnace of frisky fire that only he can douse. Or make worse. You don’t really care which. “Found myself a stunning little woman, one I wanted to make feel so good. One I wanted to help relax. I told you, darlin’… I love to help. So lemme get started with that, yeah?”
And with that, Harry brings his lotioned hands to the middle of your back, slowly rubbing them and the cream outwardly across your ribs with the perfect amount of pressure. They venture beneath the part pressed against the cushion before retreating; a staggered breath escaping your lips from how good it feels.
You feel his smirk shift into a grin. “How’s that for you, hm?”
“‘Nice.” A harsh swallow follows your hoarse response. “Really nice.”
He expels a laugh through his nose, a chaste kiss pressed to your lobe that tingles and lingers. “I think we can do better than nice, can’t we?”
Harry pulls away from your ear to sit up straight again, his hands making gentle but firm work of rubbing the product into your skin. His massaging methods are expert, fingertips and the heels of his hands kneading into your skin to work out the knots and kinks in your previously tensed-up shoulder blades and spine. You grow both more relaxed and restless the longer he’s at it, your lids fluttering shut and breaths turning broken again with every passing second; the occasional ‘mm’ sounding out, too.
Harry ends up at it for quite some time. The suncream has long since been rubbed in, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t seem able to. You don’t want him to, either.
At the feeling of his fingers once more moving towards the ribbon tied in the middle of your back, you simultaneously clench and calm. Harry doesn’t make a move to pull it undone, because he’s waiting for you to give the go ahead. What a perfect gentleman.
Opening your eyes, you look at him over your shoulder. He’s smirking again, but so are you. Nothing has ever felt so right.
“Do it.”
And do it, he does. A chuffed-looking, cocky Harry with eyes locked on yours tugs the knot loose, his deft fingers swiping the yellow strings away to the sides. He trails a digit over the newly exposed skin, tongue swiping out across his bottom lip to wetten the plump area. You wish it was your tongue, or his on your lip. God, you’ve never wished for anything more.
“And this one?” he whispers, voice rugged and rife with lust as he gestures to the bow at the nape of your neck. “Can I undo this one, too?”
“Yes, you can.”
“Mm, so good to me. Thank you.”
Another shudder wrecks its way through your body, the feeling seemingly never ending as he slowly pulls the second and final knot loose. Along with the thin ribbons, the triangle parts covering your tits fall limply away from your skin and onto the sunbed you lie on; your front still pressed against it and nothing on show. Yet.
The presence of Harry hovering over you disappears. He moves off the sunbed to stand at the foot of it, his eyes darting all over your body. There’s an arrogant smile etched on his face, and an even more prominent bulge in the confines of his shorts.
He meets your gaze again soon enough, jerking his chin forward. “On your back.”
You comply without question, your chest rising and falling with quick breaths, tits exposed with nipples pebbled from arousal, and thighs pressed tightly together to dull the aching throb in your cunt.
The sun in the sky kissing your fully naked torso is no match for the heat in Harry’s now onyx eyes that are honed in on your bare breasts, a third low whistle and a shake of his head heard and seen. “Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, low like he’s talking to himself, but he wasn’t. He wanted you to hear. Wanted you to feel as good as he does from simply looking at you.
And you do. You feel more than good, a fresh coating of blush staining your skin from the compliment. A fresh burst of confidence from it, too.
You bring a hand to your right breast, index finger pointed out to lazily glide back and forth across the valley of it. Harry eyes your movements like a hawk, looking like all of his Christmas’ have come at once as he harshly swallows and shamelessly readjusts himself in his shorts. It’s safe to say all that does is stroke your ego and boost your confidence even more, and your grin shows it.
“So what now?”
A half-smile appears on his face; a sign of trouble in the best kind of way coming. “You’re relaxed, right?”
“I am, yes. Very much so.”
“And you wanted to read?”
“I did.”
Harry’s shrug is as lazy as his smirk. “So read. Out loud.”
His instruction raises your brows, but you don’t disobey. You simply pop your knees and pick your book back up while Harry lowers to a kneeling position, his grinning face on show beneath the bottom of the now open novel and chin resting on folded arms he’s propped up on the cushions, eagerly waiting for you to get started.
You barely read a paragraph of it out loud before Harry’s hands wrapping around the back of your calves and spreading your legs a tad silences you. Giggles replace the quiet in an instant when he tugs you down the bed a little, catching you by surprise as much as it makes you forget all about your favourite story.
Harry simply shakes his head, tutting once before smirking again. “Keep reading, love. You’ve got such a pretty voice, I wanna hear it.”
With a swallow and a nod, you continue, but your recital comes to another stop after Harry sits up straight on his knees, his hands by your hips and fingers once more toying with the knots holding together your bikini bottoms. You’re actually close to moaning, the simple under-his-lashes stare at you the reason for the swallowed lewd sound.
“Don’t make me tell you again,” he warns, the threat sending a flood of more heat and arousal to your core, and heart to pound violently against your ribcage. It almost makes you want to disobey, just to see what will happen. But Harry clearly already has a plan in mind for you, and you’re much too curious to find out what comes next. You, probably.
So you look back to the pages and attempt to blink away your suddenly blurry vision, however that grows harder to do at the feeling of Harry tandemly untying the bows until the ribbons fall away as freely as the ones from your top did. You’re still covered, but it won’t take much to change that. A simple pull on the fabric and you’ll be bare and completely at the mercy of his mouth. Or at least you hope you’ll be.
Concentrating as hard as you possibly can on the words, you power on, however second later you’re stopping again and moaning, “Oh, fuck,”; profanity that wasn’t written but rather something that slipped out of your mouth upon Harry lightly kissing the space beneath your navel.
You feel puffs of laughter expelled through his nose, looking down at him looking up at you while his grin graces your skin. “That last part didn’t sound like the words of Louisa May Alcott to me,” he teases, each tickling brush of his lips turning you on some more. If that’s even possible.
“I’m improvising. Mixing it up,” you taunt his taunt right back, earning yourself another laugh.
“Is that so?” Harry continues to pepper kisses along the elastic edge of your loose bikini briefs. All you can do is pant and nod, your non-verbal response pulling another grin from the man who causes it. “Well, if that’s the case then I’m looking forward to some more ad-libs. I’m sure I can encourage some along.”
You feel dizzy and desperate. You know that in order to get to the next part of what’s to happen with you and Harry, a part which involves him satiating the aching pulse and dripping mess between your legs, you need to get to the next part of the book. Harry wanted you to read, so you’re going to fucking read.
But then, surprise surprise, your voice peeters out, Harry’s hands snaking between your thighs to pry them open further being the reason. The skimpy yellow Lycra covering your soaked cunt is peeled away from your body next, Harry making slow work of revealing your intimate area to him and the hot afternoon you both bask in. You whimper, a noise that harmonises with a hiss from him, who’s glazed-over eyes stare at your soaked centre like it's made of pure gold.
Upon your reaction and lack of reading, again, he flicks his gaze your way. If you thought he looked cheeky before, that was nothing compared to now. His dimple is even deeper, his smile his most mischievous and maddening yet. Harry doesn’t have to audibly tell you to continue reading, again, because his stare does the talking for him. It’s a look that has you blushing and squirming before you turn your focus back to the words.
You pay him no mind as best as you possibly can, opting to hide his face from view by bringing the book down and using it as a blocking device, but you can still feel him and every move he makes—the lean forward and down, fingers gripping your hips, backwards cap-covered head grazing the insides of your trembling thighs. You have to persevere through your pants, wanting nothing more than to behave and reap the rewards of your good behaviour. You need it. You need him.
“Jesus fuck!” Your speech is replaced with another expletive and a guttural groan thanks to Harry’s tongue licking up through your drenched slit, your juices lapped up in one stroke, jittering legs jittering some more upon his well-pleased smile and the vibrating, satisfied ‘mmm’ against your skin, mind spinning and need for more, well, more. You need all of what Harry can give you, and you need it right fucking now.
You stammer your way through the rest of the paragraph, missing out words here as Harry’s wet and warm muscular organ lazily and lushly glides through your equally wet and warm folds. He’s purposefully ignoring your throbbing clit, only lightly nudging it with the tip of his nose like he’s showing you he knows where it’s at and he knows it’s where you need to be touched the most, but you’re not getting it yet. When he’s ready then you will. You can’t help but love and loathe that cockiness in equal measure, and also worry about the noise you might make when he finally does pay your swollen pearl some attention. You're so worked up and have been for ages now. You’re bound to sound demonic.
You’re settled into the incredible feeling he provides for you, therefore your recital is somewhat coherent now. But yet again, that changes fast; Harry’s hands slipping from your hips to lift your legs up over his shoulders while he takes a deep and shaky breath in. Before long, you’re stopping to swear again, “Holy fucking shit, yes!” and for good fucking reason.
Upon Harry finally sucking your pulsing bud into his mouth after too many teasing licks to count spent avoiding it, the book falls from your limp hands and onto the tiled floor with a thud. You look down at him looking up at you, your moan louder than ever at the pleasure you get from not only his expert mouth working your pussy, but how fucking good he looks while doing it.
Obscenely pretty as your earlier description for Harry has never been more appropriate. With your legs over his shoulders and his face wedged between your thighs that are tight against his backwards-cap-covered head, he has his nose flush against the light patch of hair above where his lips are latched, like he doesn’t want the ability to breathe. His arms are hooked under your thighs, his elbows bent at your hips and hands linked together against your stomach, pinning you down to the bed as he feasts like a man starved.
And he hums more satisfied hums as he works, alternating between sucking your throbbing clit while nuzzling his head left and right, the occasional light nibble broken up by fast flicks of his tongue, and the more salacious licks like he’s in a serious make out session with your cunt. All in all, you can barely see, your vision once more blurry with tears upon the boy next door eating you out like his life depends on it.
“Oh, fuck me…” you moan, eyes screwed shut and head tossed back. “Just like that. Good boy.”
The pet name slipped out before you could stop it from happening, too worked up and wet to care what you’re saying. You can’t think. You can barely fucking breathe.
But from the reaction of Harry, a raspy whine vibrating off of his tongue felt against your pussy, you smile. He liked it.
Just when you think you’ve got the upper hand, the somewhat submissive term for Harry having garnered a positive response, he reminds you just who’s in control by pulling away, your mouth immediately opening to protest.
Yet any words you might’ve said snuff out fast, replaced with a yelp upon him slapping your clit.
That earns you a cocky grin and a throaty laugh from Harry, his lips and chin saturated with your arousal. He looks as possessed from you as you are for him, eyes wild and as black as night.
“That’s for stopping reading.” He surprises you further by spitting directly onto your cunt, both of you watching the thick glob of saliva cover your clit and drip down to your hole; a gasp from you and a groan from him at the filthy sight.
Your eyes meet again a moment later, an arrogant smirk on his lips. “And that’s just because I fucking wanted to.”
Before you can even register it happening, Harry is stuffing you full, two fingers sliding knuckle deep into your entrance. Your warm and wet walls welcome him in, body trembling upon him firmly pressing the pads against that spongy sweet spot and the cool metal of his ring kissing your skin.
You stutter on your breath, seeing stars behind your eyes as he slowly strokes the sensitive area, a gorgeous grin stretching his smug face. “You’ve drenched my fingers, baby. Got you dripping all over my palm, too. You gonna be a good girl and come for me, hm?”
You feel the need to pay him back for the slap, even though you liked it a whole fucking lot. What better way than to bruise his ego in a way that will make him rush to heal it fast?
So with that in mind, you murmur, “That all depends,” a sentiment you’ve spoken for now the third time since knowing Harry.
And for the third time since knowing you, he grins upon hearing the challenge. “On what?”
You sit up and lean forward until your lips are brushing, lips that are yet to properly meet and be feasted upon through the act of a frantic kiss. You can smell your arousal all over his breath, the scent mixing divinely with the minty gum he still chews.
“On if you’re capable of making it happen.”
Harry laughs, the cadence of it letting you know he’s fallen for the bait; hook line and sinker. You can tell he knows he has too, he just doesn’t give a fuck. Not when showing you he can get you off by actually getting you off is way more important.
Slipping out of your cunt, he gently squeezes your clit with a finger either side of it until you’re whimpering and writhing and close to begging for more. “Put your arms around my neck,” Harry demands, and who are you to deny him and yourself what’s to be even more earth-shattering bliss?
So you comply quickly again, your hands sliding beneath the peak of his cap until your fingers grip his nape. Your legs are still over his shoulders, your body practically folded in half, with Harry’s glossy fingers now back to slowly running up and down your soaked slit. You shudder and moan, his forehead dropping against your own slightly sweaty one, eyes meeting and grinning mouths mirroring one another’s.
But they both fall slack upon Harry sliding his long digits back in your tight cunt, a hitched breath from you while a groan rumbles in his throat. You’re so slick, sucking him in, the sounds of your mess loud and lewd with every withdrawal and re-enter.
“Such a messy thing, aren’t you?” His words send you further into a spiral you never want to straighten yourself out from, quick and desperate nods your response that earn you another teasing tut. “Can’t believe you’d ever doubt me when this is what I do to your body. Got you dripping down to your asshole, babe. Got your cunt clinging to my fingers, showing off what a needy, greedy little slut you are.”
“Fucking hell…”
A few more minutes of pure fucking euphoria pass by, more degrading words spoken by Harry, profanities by you, pants and groans and hums of happiness from you both. The wet sounds of your pussy being finger-fucked could be considered embarrassing, but this feels too good and Harry’s getting off on it as much as you are. Plus, it’s making for filthy background noise that only adds to the already existing filthiness. You love it.
A flick of Harry’s tongue felt against your plump lips has you falling apart even more, his fingers that once worked you slowly and teasingly now going at a jackhammer speed. The heel of his hand connects with your swollen clit upon every harsh thrust, the sounds of your arousal louder and louder.
Your nails bite into Harry’s skin as you pant heavy breaths against one another’s open mouths, the pair of you alternating between looking down to where his fingers screw into you and the saliva he occasionally spits onto your clit and hole, and directly at each other. Your toes curl until they’re agony, legs cramping from how hard they tense, and stomach tingles. The moans you make are hardly moans at all. You’ve had plenty of orgasms in your life, but none are going to feel like this one. The build up is felt deep within your goddamn soul, your body reacting to Harry in a way you’ve never experienced before either solo or with someone else. Maybe you never will again; a thought that should be terrifying, but it isn’t. You’re happy to have this memory. More than happy. Elated.
Harry’s grinning mouth is back against your slack one, a groan pouring from him that has you clenching. “Fuck, I can feel it. You’re so close, baby. Give it to me. Make a mess of me. Be a good girl and come for me?”
A tsunami of heat rushes through and out of you, the gushing sound of your climax that his fingers still fuck you through as loud as your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You’re an oasis—mind, body and soul—and Harry’s gasp at the sight he sees.
“Holy shit, that’s it.” He looks as lost in ecstasy as you feel. “Fucking hell, you’re incredible.”
More praise punctuated by cheek kisses leaks from his lips as arousal leaks from your body until you slump, spent, satisfied and smiley. Your face would hurt from how wide your mouth is stretched, but there’s no room for pain right now. Only pleasure.
You’re not sure how much time has passed by when you finally come back to Earth, but by that point Harry has unfolded your legs from his shoulders and laid you down flat again. He’s still between your thighs, though it’s his chest, not his mouth. That’s pulled into a wide smile, eyes on your face and chin on your stomach as his hands soothe your still-trembling legs; his expression one of complete awe.
Your hands clinging onto the back of his neck now drift to pull his cap from his head, fingers desperate to stroke through his curls. They’re as angelic as his face, as soft as he’s being with you right now, his eyes fluttering at the pleasure you give him.
“I don’t wanna keep you from your party,” you murmur a little while later, the silence the pair of you basked in broken. You didn’t want to disturb it, end this moment, but you’re also aware that he’s the host. Surely his friends are wondering where he is.
If they are, Harry doesn’t care. He doesn’t look to care about anything that isn’t you. “You’re not. And even if you were, I’d much rather chill here for a bit. If that’s okay with you, of course.”
You nod, because of course it’s okay with you. But then something crosses your mind, your smile shifting into a smirk as you ask, “Waiting for your turn?”
Harry laughs, dimple deep and eyes bright as he shakes his head, understanding exactly what you meant by that. “Trust me, that was my turn as much as it was yours. I’m more than satisfied. I died and went to heaven watching you make such a mess. That was amazing. You’re amazing. So fucking amazing.”
The mess he talks of can be felt beneath you, the sunlounger’s cushions soaked. They’ll dry in no time, though; the day is still young and the sun is still burning hot. Plus, you’re too dizzy from his sweet compliments, awestruck aura and the aftershocks of pure pleasure coursing through you to really care.
And while you believe Harry when he says he’s good, you also don’t. It’s not a common thing for guys to get off only by getting someone else off. They always want their own end away, too.
But before you can say a thing about it, you’re beat to the punchline, and all your doubt fades away.
“Besides…” Harry murmurs, pressing a kiss to your stomach before landing another on your sternum, his grinning mouth soon hovering over a breast like he’s about to kiss it as well. Like he’s about to do so much more.
Given his next words, you know that’s true. You know you’re excited, too. “…summer’s only just getting started.”
a/n: in honour of the manchester city winning the champions league last night, (which for fictional purposes, harry plays for manchester city and is a die hard fan.) here’s a cute lil concept i came up with, enjoy my huns.🫶 🫶
masterlist || ask me anything <3
likes and re-blogs are very much appreciated!!
word count - 7k
in which, you’ve been there since day one when it comes to the love of your life’s football journey, ten years on and your husband harry finally has the chance to play in a me of the biggest games of his career, with your support, he can take on anything, you’ll always be his number one girl.
➳ check in. two wins in one night.
It was a bright sunny day in July, the sun was shining down against your body as your sunglasses rested on the bridge of your nose, you hair tied up in a high ponytail as you sat on the bench in the park where you were waiting for your boyfriend, Harry.
You were both eighteen when the two of you met, and your relationship had definitely been a whirl wind, it was when you were in the gym, you had just come out of college and wanted to go and get in a quick work out before heading home, he had helped you do the weights when he could see that you needed a bit of help.
Harry was the most perfect boyfriend, he was sports crazy. He loved to play football and it was his lifelong dream to play with Manchester City one day, it would make him the happiest man on earth if that ever happened. He had invited you to the games he played with his local team, and you were always there wearing a shirt with his name on the back of it, cheering him on along with his Mother, Sister and Step-father.
"(Y/N)!" A voice shouted as he approached you, making you remove the sunglasses you were wearing to see who it was.
Your eyes settled on your boyfriend, who was running towards you with wide eyes. "You won't believe what just happened!"
"What? What happened?" You asked, standing up and approaching him, what can you say, your curiosity had piqued.
"I just got scouted by Manchester City!"
He was barely able to contain his excitement as he showed you the piece of paper that he was holding in his hands.
Your eyes widened in surprise, chancing a look down at the letter and letting your eyes skim over it briefly before looking back at him. "What? Are you serious?"
Harry nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! I went to this football camp yesterday, and one of the coaches was from Man City. He saw me play, and he said he was impressed with my skills and wanted me to try out for their academy."
His dream was finally coming true.
This was all he had wanted since you had known him, and now he had finally got it, you couldn't be any more prouder than you were right now.
You felt proud of Harry's achievement and leaned forward to hug him tightly. "That's amazing, H! I always knew you had it in you."
He grinned widely. "Thanks, babe! I couldn't have done it without your support."
You didn't think that you played a massive part in his journey, you hadn't known him when his football journey started, you had only come into his life recently so really, the ones supporting him where his family.
"I promise to come watch you play," You enthused, smiling at your boyfriend. "I'll be cheering you on from the side lines."
That was a promise.
Harry smiled back at you, leaning forward to press a kiss to the crown of your head. "Thank you, (Y/N). You're the best girlfriend ever."
As you opened your eyes on the Tenth of June, 2023, a sense of warmth encased your body, as you turned on your side and slid your arm around your fiancé's waist, snuggling in closer to him like you did every morning.
The sunlight filtered through the curtains, as you lifted your head up slightly to see that your fiancé was fast asleep, eyes closed and face relaxed, breathing steady.
Today was the day, today was the day of the Champions League Final, and your fiancé, Harry was playing in it.
The final was taking place in Istanbul, Turkey and you had flown out to support him seeing as you absolutely wouldn’t miss it for the world. This was his day and his day only.
You knew for a fact how nervous he was feeling, it was one of the biggest games of his career and he had been explaining to you all along that he couldn't mess today up, too many people were relying on him to perform well.
Knowing that he had to get up soon, you gently shook his shoulder and run another hand through his curls (that desperately needed a trim) so that he would flutter his eyes open. "Wake up, sleepy head."
You watched as the man you loved groaned slightly before opening his eyes up and letting his green orbs land on your figure that was resting next to him. He ran a hand through his own hair before sitting up in the bed and entwining your fingers together liked you usually did in the mornings.
"Morning," His raspy voice murmured, as he pressed a kiss to your lips, not caring about the morning breath you both had. "Today's the day...I can't believe it."
You sat up a tiny bit more, and offered him a reassuring smile. "Stop thinking what I know your thinking and just listen to me for a second, your going to do great, you always do, stop worrying and just think positive."
Thinking back to ten years ago when Harry surprised you with the news that he had been scouted by his boy hood team, you knew that he would be going places one day, and he had.
Over the course of his ten year career, he had scored important goals, but not once had he played in a Champions League Final, the last time Manchester City were in the final back in 2021, (where they were beaten by Chelsea.) your fiancé was injured with an ACL injury and couldn't play. It was agonising seeing him in so much pain.
You found him sat on the sofa, head in his hands, as his leg was outstretched on the coffee table, crutches resting next to him, the tv was playing in the background, but you could only focus on him.
Harry had recently torn his ACL in the last game he played, the game right before the 2021 Champions League Final, he had been looking forward to the game all season and now, he had nothing to look forward to.
He was devastated that he wouldn't be able to play for at least nine months.
"H," you gained his attention, taking a seat next to him and placing a hand on his thigh. "Talk to me, what's going on inside that head of yours?"
"I just can't believe that this happened," He spoke, voice laced with emotion. "I've been working so hard for this, and now it's all for nothing."
You were in the crowd when you saw him get tackled by a Liverpool player. He went straight down onto the floor, holding his knee, and soon had to be stretchered off the pitch by the medics, your heart broke in half for him.
He had to be rushed straight to the hospital for a surgery and that was when the doctors confirmed that he would be out for the rest of the season and would just be back in time for the world cup.
"I know, sweet boy," You nodded your head, resting your head on his shoulder and inhaling his familiar scent. "But you have to remember that they're will be other games, you'll have plenty of opportunities to score in the FA cup final, I've got faith in you, we all do."
"But this was the Champions League Final," He lifted his head and let out a small sniffle as he wiped at his under eyes. "It's like the biggest game of the season...I wanted to be out there with my team."
"I know you did," You sympathised. "And everyone on that team knows just how hard you have been working, you've been working harder then anyone else, but you have to understand that they'll want you to take care of yourself, that's all they'll want."
He then leaned his head slightly against your shoulder and heard him let out a small sigh, another tear falling down his cheeks." I just hate feeling like I let everyone down."
"H, listen to me, you did not let a single person down," You informed him firmly, making him smile slightly at your tone of voice, despite the ache his leg was currently feeling. "You got hurt, and that is no ones fault except that pricky Liverpool player, your still an important part of the team even if your not out there with them in the dug out."
He looked up at you with red rimmed eyes. "Thank you."
You kissed his forehead. "Anytime, baby, anytime."
“Today is the day,” You nodded, placing a reassuring smile, “— are you feeling okay?”
You knew for a fact that he would be feeling a multitude of emotions today, every time he played in an important game, he always got too caught up in his thoughts and feelings.
“I just can’t seem to shake my nerves,” He let out a deep breath, turning to look at your face with solace as he confessed what was going on in his head. “The pressure is just so overwhelming sometimes, all I can think about is what if I make a mistake? What if I let the team down?”
“Listen to me for a second, sweet boy,” You slid closer to him, wrapping an arm even tighter around his waist, trying to ground him for a moment. “You are talented, dedicated and even stronger than you think you are. You’ve been training for this moment for as long as I can remember.”
You heard him take in a small breath as you continued to speak. “Trust in yourself, believe in your ability just like I do, just like all your fans do.”
His gaze appeared to soften as he took in your words, finding comfort in what you had to say.
“It’s such a significant game,”Your fiancé began to explain, voice small. “— sometimes I can’t help but feel this immense pressure, I want to give my all to the team and our supporters.”
You nodded understandingly and sat up in the bed so that you were the same level, the hotel duvet pooling your waists, his bare torso on display whilst you had on an oversized shirt of his and a pair of his boxer shorts.
You rested your head on his shoulder, not before pressing a kiss to it. “You’ve come so far my love, remember the strength and resilience that you have shown time and time again, no matter the challenges that you have faced, remember that this is your time to shine.”
“Your right,” He spoke, the lines of worry that were etched on his face slowly disappearing as he seemed to acknowledge what you were saying to him. “— I’ve worked so hard to be here, nothings going to be holding me back out here on the pitch.”
A soft sound broke out through the Turkish hotel room, a gentle stirring if you must erupting from the foot of the bed you and your husband were currently resting in.
That indicated that your two year old was awake.
“Mama…dada…” Your little one cried out, voice filled to the brim with innocence and affection upon setting his sights on the two of us.
A smile appeared on your face and Harry’s eyes filled with delight.
“He’s awake.” You murmured as you stood up from the bed and made your way towards the crib that your son was standing up in.
Hunter Robin Styles.
Born four weeks after the 2021 champions league final, the perfect addition to your lives.
He was his father’s replica, brown curls settled onto his head, green eyes that resembled the colour of emeralds and dimples indented in his cheeks.
As you scooped him up into your arms, he rested his head against your shoulder, thumb instinctively entering his mouth.
The two of you returned back to bed to join your husband, Hunter scurrying over to his father like the total daddies boy he is and you moved closer to cuddle into Harry, wanting to feel his warmth once again.
The conversation shifted now that your son was on the bed, weaving in and out of words exchanged between the two of you and the laughter of little Hunter. It was a symphony of love, a reminder of the family that anchored your husband's heart amidst the chaos of the final. As a family, you spoke of dreams and hopes, fears and aspirations, all while your little one basked in the warmth of Harry’s embrace.
The conversation once again drifted, this time the past made its way into our thoughts as Harry’s voice began to tremble ever so slightly as he spoke.
“I couldn’t play last time due to my injury,” He spoke in a voice so soft that you almost didn’t hear it. “— it’s been haunting me since forever, but now this opportunity is presented to me again, I’m going to make every second count, there’s no doubt about it.”
“You’ve already won battles no one ever thought you could overcome.” You squeezed his hand reassuringly, reminding him of his bravery and resilience, as Hunter played with the cross necklace dangling around his neck. “— you need to remember that your worth is not defined by an injury, your an incredible footballer and I’m not just saying that because I’m entitled to, me and Hunter love you, we’re insanely proud of you, we always will be.”
Little Hunter looked between the two of you with sparkling eyes filled with admiration, and that when was Harry realised the he had a family that loved him unconditionally.
The hotel restaurant emanated an atmosphere you could only describe as tranquil as you sat at a table eating lunch with Hunter, Anne and Gemma.
Other family members from the team were also in the restaurant, when you were entering you had waved to Jack Grealish’s mum and dad, had a small conversation with Erling Haaland girlfriend and ruffled Phil Foden’s son's hair.
Little Hunter sat comfortable in his stroller after he refused to sit in a high chair, he was staring at his surroundings with curiosity filled eyes.
As your eyes glanced down at the menu, the three of us women engaged in a delightful conversation, halfway through, you spotted your son reaching towards the table where the basket of bread was located.
“Are you getting hungry, sweet boy?” You asked, leaning forward in your seat slightly so that you could meet his gaze. “— our food is going to be here soon, don’t worry, angel baby.”
Hunter’s face scrunched up slightly and he threw his head back with a small whine, his toddler babble mixed with his gestures, making it clear that he wanted to be part of the dining experience.
Harry’s sister, Gemma, chuckled, her eyes showing clear signs of amusement. “He seems to be quite the food enthusiast, takes after H.”
“Oh one hundred percent,” Anne, Harry’s mother, agreed, letting out a small chuckle. “He’s certainly inherited his fathers love for good food.”
Understanding your son's eagerness to join the table, you unfastened the stroller straps and carefully lifted him out. He squirmed with excitement, his chubby legs kicking in anticipation as he settled into a high chair beside you.
"Now you can see all the delicious dishes, just like us!" You exclaimed, placing a colourful bib around your son's neck. "You're officially part of the lunchtime feast."
Our son's face lit up with glee, his wide eyes scanning the table, eagerly awaiting the culinary delights. He pointed at the plates, naming the different foods as best he could, his baby gibberish filling the air.
As your meals arrived, a symphony of mouth watering aromas filled the air, and your taste buds tingled with anticipation. The three of you savoured each bite, sharing anecdotes and laughter, while Hunter observed intently, his eyes fixed on the delectable dishes.
"I think he wants to try everything," Anne said, chuckling as she noticed her grandson's animated gestures.
Gemma reached over and playfully offered a spoonful of mashed potatoes to her nephew.
"Here you go, little food critic," she said, grinning. "Tell us what you think."
Hunter’s eyes widened, and he eagerly accepted the spoon, tasting the creamy potatoes. His face lit up with delight, and he clapped his hands, a clear sign of his approval.
"He definitely has his father's discerning palate," You mused, exchanging knowing glances with the two women you called family.
As you continued your feast, your son became an active participant in the lunchtime conversation. His babbling intermingled with your dialogue, adding an innocent charm to the atmosphere.
Gemma once again leaned closer to your son, her voice filled with affection. "Tell us, little one, what do you think of this restaurant? Is it worthy of a future family gathering?"
Hunter responded with an enthusiastic nod, his face beaming with joy. His tiny hands clapped, as if applauding the notion of future family celebrations in this very place.
“So how’s Harry feeling about the final tonight?” Anne asked, regarding her son as she leaned forward ever so slightly.
A small smile tugged on the corners of your lips as you contemplated her question and thought about an answer. “— he’s definitely feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement.”
“He’s been training diligently for this moment his whole life,” Gemma added, a touch of pride evident in the way she spoke about her younger brother. “It’s such a significant match for him, for the whole team even.”
“He’s eager to get on the pitch and give it his all,” You nodded in agreement, your heart swelling with admiration. “But the weight of the final definitely comes with its fair share of pressure.”
“Tell him that we’re going to be in the crowd and supporting him.” Anne told you.
You knew for a fact when you had a chance to tell this to Harry he would feel a lot better then he would be, knowing his mother and sister were backing him was all he really wanted.
“Of course,” A warm smile spread across your face, you were touched by her words. “I'll definitely tell him his biggest fans are rooting for him.”
Leaning down to look at your son who was sitting in his high chair with mashed up avocado lingering on his hands, you spoke to him, wanting to involve him in the conversation. “—Daddy has a very important football match tonight, he’s going to make us all proud, isn't he?”
Elijah’s face lit up with a radiant smile, his tiny hands clapping together in excitement.
"Daddy!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with adoration for the father he idolised.
Anne chuckled warmly, her eyes gleaming with affection. "He knows, doesn't he? Even at his young age, he understands the significance."
You nodded, a sense of pride swelling within your chest. "Children have an incredible intuition, They can sense the love and anticipation that surrounds them."
As the early evening settled in Turkey, you led Hunter to the en-suite bathroom located in your hotel room, his hand holding onto yours as he held his light blue baby blanket in his hand.
His blanket was a present that Anne had knitted him when he was first born and he still to this day went everywhere with it.
Bath time was definitely one of Hunter’s favourite times of the day. He liked it even more when Harry would be the one bathing him, but he was often at training so he never really got the chance to.
The bath was already filled up, bubbles resting on the top of it and a few rubber duckies and other bath toys floating in the water.
"Are you ready for a fun bath, angel baby?" You asked, lifting him into the tub filled with warm, bubbly water. "We need to get all squeaky clean before the game!"
Your son giggled, splashing the water with delight, his tiny hands reaching out for his favourite bath toys. As you gently washed him, the two of you engaged in playful banter, his infectious laughter filling the room.
His laugh sounded so much like his fathers.
“Mama,” Hunter gained your attention. “— quack, quack!”
You nodded in encouragement as he presented you with the rubber duck he was holding. “Yeah a ducky does go quack quack, you're such a clever little boy.”
About thirty seconds later, the two year old seemed to get bored of the duck he was playing with and threw it back down in the water, and that was when you got the perfect opportunity to put some bath wash on a sponge and clean over his petite body.
Hunter squirmed a little bit and tried to wiggle away from you but you were quicker and knew his movements like the back of your hand and held him softly in place.
Once he was out of the bath and dried off, you decided to take him into the main area of the hotel room where you grabbed a miniature sized jersey out of his suitcase.
“Alright, arms up, angel baby.” You held the shirt in your hands and slipped the shirt over his head smoothly.
Once the shirt was situated on his body, you smoothed down his brown curls that had become slightly dishevelled due to the friction of the shirt.
He was clad in a Manchester City shirt with the shirts, socks and toddler football boots.
Instead of having his name on the back, he had ‘𝙳𝙰𝙳𝙳𝚈’ and number ‘𝟷𝟽’ on the back of it.
Once you had gotten Hunter ready, you decided to take a shower yourself, the two year old followed you into the bathroom.
As the warm water cascaded over your body, you took a moment to relax, the sound of rushing water creating a serene backdrop. Your son, perched on the bathroom floor, watched with curiosity as you applied a gentle face cleanser and let the steam envelop you.
With the shower complete, you stepped out onto the bath mat, a towel wrapped around your body. Your son clapped his hands in approval, appreciating the simplicity of the post-shower routine.
"Now it's time for mommy to get ready," You explained, brushing your damp hair and reaching for your makeup bag. "We want to look our best when we cheer for Daddy!"
Hunter observed attentively, his big eyes studying your every move.
"What's that, Mommy?" he asked, pointing to the makeup brushes.
You chuckled softly, giving him a gentle explanation.
"This is called makeup, sweetheart. It helps enhance our natural beauty," You replied, dabbing a bit of foundation onto your skin.
As you continued applying makeup, your son's curiosity grew. He mimicked your actions, using his fingers to pretend to apply his own makeup, a charming sight that filled your heart with warmth.
After finishing your makeup, you turned to your suitcase, selecting a Manchester City shirt of your own with ‘𝚂𝚃𝚈𝙻𝙴𝚂 𝟷𝟽’ on the back of its.
Tour son toddled over, his eyes bright with anticipation.
"We’re matching, Mommy!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with innocence and adoration.
You scooped him up into your arms, holding him close.
"Thank you, my love. Now we're both ready to cheer for Daddy," you replied, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.
As you sat in the stands of the Atatürk Olympic Stadium, surrounded by fellow Manchester City supporters and in a box with the family members for the team members, your heart was pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves.
Harry was about to showcase his skills on the grand stage.
Beside you were his mother, Anne, and his sister, Gemma, both filled with anticipation and pride.
Your two-year-old son was perched on your lap, his wide eyes filled with wonder as he took in the electric atmosphere. The noise from the roaring crowd seemed to mesmerise him, but as the game kicked off, it wasn't long before the excitement overwhelmed his little body. Hunter's eyelids grew heavy, and he soon succumbed to the exhaustion of the day, drifting into a peaceful slumber.
"He's out like a light," Anne chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "It's quite a spectacle, isn't it? I can hardly believe our Harry is here, playing in the final."
Gemma nodded, her eyes shining with pride. "He's worked so hard for this moment. It's incredible to see him on this stage. I'm so proud of him."
The match unfolded with breathtaking speed and intensity.
Manchester City displayed their trademark attacking prowess, weaving intricate passes and creating scoring opportunities. The crowd's excitement was infectious, and the chants of "City! City!" reverberated throughout the stadium.
Anne leaned closer, her voice filled with excitement. "Do you remember when Daniel used to kick a ball around in the backyard? He always dreamed of playing on a big stage like this. And now, here he is!"
That was true, when you first met Harry, he used to invite you to the park all the time and you would always be kicking a ball about with him, now he got to teach his son the same things he taught you.
A roar erupted from the crowd as Manchester City came close to scoring.
Gemma jumped to her feet, her voice filled with enthusiasm. "Come on! Score that goal!"
As the game progressed, the tension mounted. The opposing team proved to be a formidable adversary, putting up a strong defence and launching swift counterattacks.
The match seemed like a true battle of titans, with both teams leaving everything on the field.
"He's playing brilliantly, isn't he?" You whispered to Anne, nodding toward your fiancé , who was skillfully manoeuvring through defenders.
Anne beamed, her eyes shimmering with pride. "He's always had that talent, that special something. It's as if he was born to play football. Look at him out there, giving it his all."
Suddenly, the referee blew the whistle for halftime. As the players retreated to the dressing room, you gently shifted Hunter's weight on your lap, careful not to wake him.
The buzz of excitement filled the air as we joined the other Manchester City family members near the tunnel, eager to offer our support and encouragement.
You watched as the man you loved emerged, sweat dripping down his face, but a determined glint in his eyes.
He approached were the four of you were standing, pressing a short kiss to your lips and mustering how much he loved you, you and him exchanged brief words of encouragement, his gratitude shining through.
He kissed Hunter's forehead gently, whispering, "Daddy's going to bring that trophy home for you, little man."
Back in your seats, the second half kicked off with renewed intensity.
The atmosphere crackled with anticipation as Manchester City pushed forward, relentlessly seeking that winning goal. The opposition fought back, with bone-crunching tackles and acrobatic saves from their goalkeeper.
With each near-miss and near-goal, your emotions soared and plummeted. You all held your breath with every shot, every corner, and every daring run. The tension was palpable, but you remained hopeful.
Suddenly, a collective gasp swept through the crowd as Manchester City was awarded a penalty.
Gemma grabbed your arm, her voice trembling with excitement. "This is it! H, can do this!"
There was no doubt within the squad that your Harry was the designated penalty taker for the team, he was a forward and The Manchester City manager Pep Guardiola had given Harry the responsibility for them.
This was his moment.
This was his time to shine.
The stadium fell into a hushed silence as Harry stepped up to take the penalty. His focus was unwavering as he placed the ball on the spot, the weight of the entire season resting on his shoulders. The opposing goalkeeper eyed him intently, trying to psych him out.
"Come on, Haz! You've got this!" You whispered, your voice filled with hope.
Gemma and Anne joined in, their voices merging with your own. "You've trained for this moment, Harry ! Show them what you're made of!"
You watched with bated breath as Harry took a deep breath, blocking out the noise around him.
He began his run-up, his strides purposeful and determined. The moment his foot made contact with the ball, it soared towards the goal, driven by the sheer force of his will.
Time seemed to slow down as you watched the ball sail through the air, evading the outstretched hands of the goalkeeper. The net rippled as the ball found its rightful place, and the stadium erupted into a chorus of cheers, applause, and chants of victory.
"He did it! He scored!" I exclaimed, my voice filled with elation. Hunter stirred in my arms, his eyes fluttering open as if sensing the surge of joy around him.
Anne wiped away tears of joy, her voice trembling with pride. "That's our boy! He's done it!"
Gemma wrapped her arms around you in a tight embrace, joining in the celebration. "I knew he had it in him. What a moment!"
Manchester City we’re one nil up.
Not only that, but your Harry had scored.
He had scored in a final.
After all the heartbreak that he endured in the last final back in 2021, he had scored and put his team one point ahead.
You were beyond proud of him.
As the game continued, Manchester City pressed on with newfound confidence. The energy of Harry’s goal had ignited the team, fueling their determination to secure the trophy.
They fought fiercely, defending against the opposing team's attacks and launching their own relentless assault.
With every minute that ticked by, your anticipation grew. The final whistle drew nearer, and the realisation that victory was within reach became palpable.
The stadium buzzed with excitement, as if the crowd could taste the impending triumph.
And then, as the final whistle pierced the air, the crowd erupted into a deafening roar. Manchester City had emerged as the victors of the Champions League final. Ecstasy washed over you as you witnessed Harry and his teammates embrace, their joy overflowing.
Hunter clapped his tiny hands, mirroring the celebration around him.
“Yay, Daddy!" he squealed, his eyes filled with innocent delight.
The three of you joined Hunter's applause, your voices joining the chorus of cheers reverberating throughout the stadium.
Tears of joy streamed down your faces as you reveled in this extraordinary moment, a memory etched in our hearts forever.
You Harry had won the Champions League for his team.
With tears of elation streaming down your face, the three of you including little Hunter joined the chorus of chants, shouting, "City! City!"
Your eyes never left the pitch once as you anxiously waited for the moment when your lover and his teammates would lift the trophy high above their heads.
You all watched as the opposing team collected there runners up medals before it was time for the winners.
On the field, the players formed a jubilant huddle, their faces beaming with triumph. Moments later, they made their way towards the presentation stage.
You and the family quickly descended the stairs, Hunter clinging onto your hip with his thumb in his mouth, eager to get as close as possible to the historic moment that was about to unfold.
The crowd surged forward, a sea of blue and white, as you found a spot near the front. Beside you, other family members and friends of the Manchester City players beamed with anticipation, their voices filled with excitement.
Anne squeezed my hand tightly. "This is it, dear. We're about to witness something incredible."
Gemma nodded with a wide grin. "I can't believe it's happening! Our brother, lifting the Champions League trophy!"
The roar of the crowd grew deafening as the players ascended the stage one by one.
Finally, Harry stepped forward, his face radiant with a mixture of pride and disbelief. The trophy glistened in the spotlight, a symbol of their hard-fought victory.
A hush fell over the stadium as the captain of Manchester City, wearing the armband proudly, lifted the trophy high into the air.
A surge of emotions coursed through your body, and you let out a cheer that blended with the cheers of thousands of fans around.
Anne leaned in, her voice filled with admiration. "Look at him, my boy, holding that trophy. It's a moment I'll cherish forever."
Gemma wiped away tears of joy, her voice filled with pride. "He did it! Haz did it! I couldn't be prouder!"
As the players celebrated, their triumphant shouts and laughter filled the air.
Harry turned towards the direction you were sitting in, his eyes finding yours in the sea of cheering faces.
A smile spread across his face, and you could see the overwhelming happiness in his eyes. With a wave, he acknowledged his family's presence, and your heart swelled with love for this incredible man.
"He did it, Mum! Harry did it!" You exclaimed, your voice choked with emotion.
Anne pulled you into a tight embrace, tears streaming down her face. "Yes, he did, dear. My son is a champion!"
Gemma joined our embrace, forming a circle of love and pride. "We always believed in him, didn't we? This is just the beginning of his greatness."
Carefully making your way through the jubilant crowd, you reached the edge of the field, where security personnel guided you towards a designated area for family members. Anne and Gemma were already there, their smiles as bright as the stadium lights.
Harry spotted the four of you from a distance, his eyes lighting up with delight.
Covered in sweat and mud, he hurried towards you, a mix of exhaustion and elation on his face. You gently put Hunter down, allowing him to take his first steps on the hallowed ground of the pitch.
"Daddy!" Hunter exclaimed, his little arms outstretched, his voice filled with excitement.
Harry scooped him up, holding him close. "There's my little champion! Daddy did it!"
Anne embraced you, tears of joy streaming down her face. "Look at them, dear. Our son and grandson, basking in this incredible moment."
Gemma joined in the embrace, her voice trembling with emotion. "I'm so proud of him, sis. He's worked so hard for this."
As the celebrations continued around you, Harry held Hunter high in the air, their joyous laughter blending with the cheers of the crowd. The energy of the stadium seemed to infuse their bond, a testament to the incredible journey they had embarked on together.
"He's so proud of you, Harry," you whispered, your voice filled with love and admiration.
Harry nodded, his eyes shimmering with tears of happiness. "I couldn't have done it without you and Hunter by my side. You're my biggest supporters, my inspiration."
Hunter reached out, his tiny fingers brushing against his fathers cheek. "Daddy strong!"
Harry kissed Hunter's forehead, his voice filled with tenderness. "Yes, my little champion, Daddy is strong because of you."
At that moment, time seemed to stand still.
You were surrounded by a sea of jubilant supporters, but it felt as though it was just the five of you, locked in an embrace of love and pride. The Champions League trophy glimmered in the distance, a symbol of their collective victory.
As the team gathered for a celebratory photo, Harry held Hunter on his hip, their smiles mirroring one another.
You captured the moment with your phone, knowing that it would forever be etched in the family's history.
Lying in bed, the weight of the day finally beginning to lift from your tired bodies, your fiancé and you basked in the quiet afterglow of his triumphant victory in the Champions League. The room was dimly lit, and a soft sense of contentment enveloped us.
Harry propped himself up on his elbow, his eyes reflecting a mixture of exhaustion and elation.
"What a game, love," he whispered, his voice filled with a hint of disbelief.
What a game indeed.
You reached out, gently brushing your fingers through his hair. "You were incredible, Harry. I'm so proud of you."
Proud was an understatement.
A small smile graced his lips as he turned to face you in the hotel bed. "I couldn't have done it without you and Hunter. You're my rocks, my biggest supporters."
You shifted closer, resting your head against his chest. "We'll always be here for you, Harry. You worked so hard for this moment."
He sighed, his fingers tracing patterns on your lower back. "You know, love, after the final whistle, I wanted to celebrate with just you and Hunter. It's moments like these that I cherish the most."
So that explains why he decided not to celebrate with his team mates.
You looked up at him, your heart swelling with love. "I understand, Harry. It's about those intimate moments, the ones that remind you of what truly matters."
His gaze softened, his voice filled with vulnerability. "That penalty... I was so nervous, love. It felt like everything was riding on that one moment. But when the ball hit the back of the net, it was pure relief and joy."
You placed a gentle kiss on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your lips. "You did it, Harry. You seized the opportunity and made it count. It was a testament to your skill, your determination, and your unwavering belief in yourself."
He wrapped his arms around your body, drawing you closer. "Thank you, love. Your belief in me has always meant the world. You and Hunter are my greatest motivation.”
You snuggled in closer, finding comfort in his embrace. "We'll always be there, Harry. Through the highs and the lows, celebrating every victory and lifting you up in moments of doubt. You're our champion, on and off the pitch."
His voice grew softer as he spoke, his words carrying a sense of gratitude and reflection. "You know, love, throughout the game, when I looked up into the stands, seeing you and Hunter, your faces filled with love and support, it gave me an extra boost. It reminded me why I play this beautiful game, why I give it my all. It's for you and our little boy."
Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to Harry's heartfelt words. "We'll always be your biggest fans, Harry. Seeing you out there, chasing your dreams, it fills our hearts with pride and joy."
He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I love you so much, my beautiful fiancé . And our little Hunter, he's growing up surrounded by so much love and inspiration."
You nestled deeper into his embrace, feeling a surge of warmth and love envelop the two of you. "We're creating memories, Harry. Memories that Hunter will carry with him throughout his life. He'll look back on this moment, knowing that his dad is a champion, a man who followed his dreams and achieved greatness."
Harry's voice grew soft, his tone filled with a sense of wonder. "I never want to forget this feeling, lying here with you, relishing in our love and celebrating a victory. It's a moment frozen in time, one that I'll cherish forever."
You intertwined your fingers with his, savouring the connection you seemed to share. "We'll always have these moments, Harry.”
You shifted slightly, careful not to disturb the little bundle of joy nestled between you and your lover,. Hunter had fallen asleep during the celebration, his small body curled up against Harry's side.
Such a daddies boy.
Harry's eyes softened as he looked down at your sleeping son. "Look at him, love. Our little champion, exhausted from all the excitement."
You smiled, brushing a lock of hair away from Hunter's forehead. "He's been cheering for you the whole game. I think he used up all his energy celebrating your victory."
Harry chuckled softly, his hand gently stroking Hunter's back. "I'm glad he got to witness this. One day, he'll look back and know that he was here, part of this unforgettable moment."
You nodded, feeling a surge of emotion welling up inside of your chest. "He's so lucky to have you as his role model, Harry. You're showing him what it means to work hard, to chase your dreams, and to never give up."
Harry's gaze met your own, his eyes filled with love and gratitude. "And you, love, you're the anchor that keeps us grounded. Your unwavering support and belief in me, in us, it means everything."
The two of you sat in silence for a while, enveloped in the warmth of your shared love. The room was filled with a sense of peacefulness and fulfillment, a testament to the journey you had traveled together.
As Hunter stirred in his sleep, Harry's voice broke the stillness. "You know, love, scoring that penalty... It was like a release of all the pressure, all the hard work coming to fruition. But what mattered most in that moment was knowing I had my family by my side."
You kissed Hunter's forehead, then leaned over to place a tender kiss on Harry's lips. "We'll always be by your side, Harry, through every triumph and every challenge. You make us proud every single day."
Harry's arms tightened around you and Hunter, pulling you into an embrace that felt like home. "I love you both more than words can express. Thank you for being my everything."
The room filled with a sense of love and gratitude, as the three of you lay there, a family united in celebration, reflection, and profound connection.
In that quiet moment, the two of you knew that this victory was not just Harry's, but your families as well, and together, you would continue to write the pages of your story, one filled with love, resilience, and the shared joy of chasing dreams and achieving greatness, as a family united on and off the pitch.
As you drifted off into a blissful slumber one thought lingered in your brain.
The love of your life was a Champions League Winner.
I'M BACK BESTIES!!!!! i'm not totally back to my normal writing, but I finally got through a whole piece! anyways I really liked this and i hope you do too :)
warnings: howard stern being a bitch, talk of weight & body image
word count: 2.1k
"Hello Harry, how are you doing today?"
"I'm well, thank you," Harry answered with a smile. He was on the Howard Stern Show, his first interview since Stevie had been born. He hadn't really wanted to; Howard was kind of a prick. Everyone knew this, but Jeff was convinced this was the right move. He said it would be good for Harry to get back into the swing of things, and no one else was available on short notice. In the end, Harry only agreed because you had pushed him to, reminding him it wouldn't be a very long interview and then he wouldn't have to interact with the abrasive man again for a long time.
"That's good to hear," Howard said. "How have you been these past couple months? Have you been getting anything done?"
"Not much that's music related, honestly," Harry laughed. "I've been busy with family things."
"Yeah, you've kind of been hiding away from the world for a while here, what's that about?"
"Well, as I'm sure you already know, my wonderful wife had a baby recently, so I've been pretty busy... just navigating the world of fatherhood." A smile crept onto his face at the mention of Stevie.
"That's a lot, isn't it? Babies are awful at that age," Howard chuckled.
"Uh- I wouldn't say awful," Harry's smile dropped a little and he sighed internally. He already knew how the rest of this interview would go: thinly veiled insults, questions that were way too personal, and having to pretend he didn't want to get up and walk out of the room. But he knew that wouldn't be a very good look for him, so he gritted his teeth and tried to think of happy things. Specifically, the fact that he would get to go home to his wife and baby in less than two hours. "She's a very sweet baby, we're completely in love with her."
"Yeah, sometimes they're cute, but mostly they just cry and wake you up in the night, don't they?" Howard asked smugly, as if he knew Harry's baby better than Harry did.
"Well, of course she wakes up in the night sometimes. She's hungry, can't blame her for wanting food, can I?" Harry asked, trying to speak lightly and with a smile, but he could feel his patience slipping. He was ready to go home and he was not in the mood to pretend to be happy when this man was clearly insulting his child.
"Sure, I just wish babies could be a bit less annoying when they want something."
Harry nodded, plastering a smile that hopefully looked real on his face.
"So, besides the annoying baby, how's the family? Everybody healthy over there?"
Harry nodded. "Everybody's happy and healthy. A little sleep deprived, of course, but we're managing well, i think. And by we, I mean Y/N. She's truly... just amazing. I have no idea how she does it- she's the one keeping everything together. There's no way I could do any of this without her."
"Yeah, she seems pretty great! I remember though, at first we were all a little uncertain about her. She's not exactly like the other women you have a history with, is she?"
"She's-" Harry started talking, but Howard cut him off.
"I just mean, we were used to seeing you with models and actresses and the like, so it was a bit of a shock to see you with one of us commoners, you know?"
Harry huffed a small laugh, still trying to sound polite. "When you love someone, that's all that matters."
"Right, of course, but don't you get bored sometimes? You stopped going out so much when you got with her, almost like she was keeping you captive or something," He laughed.
"Are you asking me if my wife forced me to stop hanging out with my friends?" Harry squinted at the man.
"No, of course not, but..." He leaned closer with a malicious gleam in his eye, like he was about to hear some big secret. "Did she?"
"No," Harry said firmly. "She did not."
"Okay, okay, if you say so," Howard put his hands up, but then he leaned in again and spoke in an exaggerated whisper. "Blink twice if you need help."
Harry played it off with a laugh, crossing his arms over his chest.
"He's good," Howard laughed loudly. "Anyways, let's move on. Since you two are supposedly so happy-" He paused again, as if he expected Harry to cut it and give some dramatic confession about how terrible his relationship was behind closed doors. Harry only raised his eyebrows, signaling him to continue talking. "Tell us about that. When did you two get married again?"
"Almost 2 years ago," Harry said with a smile. "Our anniversary is coming up, actually, it's in 3 weeks."
"Oh wow, you guys moved fast with the whole kid thing, huh?"
Harry nodded. "We both knew we wanted kids and were ready to have them, so... yeah."
"Yeah, no point wasting time, right? How was Y/N after having the baby- Stevie, right?"
"Yeah, her name is Stevie," Harry smiled. "She was good. Again, she's amazing for going through that. She's- i'm just so lucky to have her."
"Did she bounce back right away?"
"I'm sorry?" Harry's brow furrowed.
"You know, did she get her figure back fast? I know that's a big issue for some women," He laughed again.
"Are you-" All traces of Harry's smile were gone now.
"I just mean, I hope she's working to get rid of the baby weight," Howard said casually, as if his words weren't extremely rude. "Just to make sure she can fit into her old clothes!"
Harry cleared his throat. He knew he had to speak very carefully, since this was something you had been very self conscious about. "Well, the two of us are concerned with the new life she brought into the world, not some old clothes, but she looks as beautiful as ever. The amount of pressure women face to live up to certain standards is disgusting to me, and it's especially bad for new mothers. My wife just went through an incredible process, she grew an entire human being in 9 months, then went through labor and the delivery, and she's being told to worry about her figure? That's wrong."
"Right, right, of course," Howard smiled, but Harry could tell he was annoyed at how he couldn't be tricked into speaking badly about his wife.
"I'm really over the whole thing, honestly," Harry said. "And I'm not even the one going through it."
Howard laughed nervously, seeming to finally take the hint that Harry was uncomfortable and annoyed with the topic. "Let's talk about your latest movie, why don't we?"
Harry was closed off through the rest of the interview; anyone could see that. He laughed less, his arms stayed crossed, and his answers were short. He was professional, but it went no farther than that. There was no more playful joking or easy conversation, just Harry trying to get through the interview as fast as he could. When it finally came to a close after his final song, Harry couldn't pack up fast enough. He made sure to say a polite thanks and goodbye before he hurried out to his car.
He sighed deeply before picking up his phone to call you.
"Hi baby!" your happy voice came from the other end. That was good, he assumed that meant you hadn't listened to the interview yet.
"Hi love," he smiled, his mood already improving just from hearing your voice. "Did you listen to the interview?"
"I have been- I couldn't right at the beginning, Stevie was crying, but I caught the end. Why?"
"Why was she crying?" Harry ignored your question, instantly worrying about his baby.
"Sometimes babies cry for no reason, Harry. She's okay, I promise. Anyways, what's up with the interview?"
Harry sighed. "Just the normal for a Howard Stern interview- he asked some very personal and rude questions. Just prepare for that."
"What else is new?" You laughed. "Are you coming right home?"
"Yeah, unless you need anything?"
"Nope, I think I'm good. See you soon!"
"Love you, bye," Harry said, ending the call and starting the car to begin the drive home.
-----
"I'm home," Harry called, removing his coat as he walked in the door.
"We're in here," you responded, not moving from your spot on the couch where you were nursing Stevie.
Harry walked in, a small smile on his face as he looked at the two of you.
"Hi," He sighed, plopping down on the couch next to you.
"That bad, huh?" You asked, taking in his dejected tone.
He hummed in response, leaning his head on your shoulder. "Those interviews are... always something."
"Yeah, I only caught the end, but you sounded pretty upset. What did he say?"
"He just..." Harry shook his head. "I don't think you should listen to it."
You turned your head to look at him. "Why not?"
"He's just very rude and pushy, as always."
"Yeah, i figured, but I wanted to hear your songs," you argued with a small frown. "Did he say something really bad, or...?"
"He just makes some very impolite comments about you and our family."
"Oh," You nodded lightly. "I think I'll be okay, baby. I appreciate you trying to protect my feelings, but I'm used to it at this point, and I really couldn't care less about his opinion of me."
"Alright," he sighed. "If you're sure." He pulled out his phone, checking his email and going through some messages while you started the interview from the beginning. You could hear him grumbling under his breath and huffing every time Howard said something rude, but you ignored it, just laying a hand on his leg to calm him down.
By the time it was over, Harry was clearly not too happy. "I can't believe I went back on that show," he shook his head. "I'm never doing that again. I'm so sorry about what he said about you, I honestly should have just left-"
"It's okay," you cut him off with a smile. "Also, it was kind of hot to hear you get mad at him."
"Yeah?" He smiled back. "I thought I was very tame, actually. I wanted to say some other things, but I figured that wouldn't be a very good look for me."
"Right, but the way you attacked him but stayed professional... very hot," you laughed, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "I love you so much."
"I love you too," He smiled, turning his head to kiss your cheek in return. "Is she done? I really need to hold her after the day I've had," He sighed dramatically, throwing his head back.
"I'm sure," you laughed, handing Stevie over to him and pulling your shirt back into place. "She's all yours."
"Hi baby," he cooed, holding her close to his chest. "I missed you so much."
Stevie yawned in response, cuddling into him.
"Oh, you missed me too?" He grinned. "See that? She missed me."
"She did," You agreed. "She was looking around when she heard your voice on the interview, she wanted to know where you were."
"I'm sorry," he pouted down at her. "I'll never go away again, and I'll never let the bad man be mean to you again."
"I don't think she's too upset about it, Harry," you laughed. "She is only 3 months old. She didn't exactly understand anything that went on."
"Excuse me," he said, looking very offended. "She may only be 3 months old, but she's very smart."
"Right, she's a genius baby, how could I forget?"
"I don't know," Harry shook his head at Stevie. "How could she forget how smart you are, hmm?"
Stevie yawned again, stretching her arms above her head.
"She's ready to take a nap," you said.
"Can I just hold her? I know it's not a good habit, to let her be held to sleep, but I don't want to put her down yet," Harry said, looking up with such pleading eyes, you couldn't possibly say no. Not like you would have said no anyways, but he didn't need to know that.
"Of course you can," you stood up, kissing his forehead before you turned away. "I'm gonna do the dishes, then we can watch something if you want."
"No, let me do those," he immediately protested.
"Harry, it's okay, I haven't done anything around the house since she was born-"
"And I'm not about to let you start now," he cut you off. "Come back here, please? Let's start that new show we were looking at the other night."
"Fine, but later I'm going to help you with the dishes."
"Fine," he smiled, agreeing with your compromise, even though you both knew he would argue later. "Now come back here."
SHORT SERIES: Harry’s arrival on Love Island stirs Y/N’s feelings, sparking tension with her partner, Tom, and the rest of the ladies, as she’s drawn to Harry’s charm and intrigue.
The full series is already completed and available to read over on my Patreon. 🖤
⭐️ Please consider joining my Patreon -> Patreon
⭐️ Please consider submitting your one shot request -> Forms
At a house party thrown by your roommate and best friend Harry, you have a wobbly moment and need a breather. He's quick to pull you into the bathroom to give you that, but before long, he's suggesting that you both play the harmless game. Something you agree to...
Mature Content: explicit language, spit kink, oral sex (f and m receiving), light choking & unprotected sex. For an 18+ audience only.
Word Count: 10.7k (oops — she’s a long one!)
* This is the first one shot I ever wrote in 2022. It'll always have a special place in my heart, and I'm so happy to be bringing it back! *
"Harry, who the fuck is this guy?! Have you ever met him before?!”
Over the thudding music, your voice was a shout desperately trying to reach your best friend, who thought it would be a good idea to throw a random rager – one that everyone and their mother has seemingly been invited to. There's people here that you know you both don't know, because you only have about five friends between you.
You should have known this would happen. Harry gets carried away. Give him an inch, he'll take all of the miles. You love him, though, even if you do want to wring his neck most times. Like right now.
He purses his lips and tilts his head, fingers fiddling with the multicoloured bead necklace you made him so many years ago — something that's never left its place around his neck since the day you gave him it — as he looks down at the random man. He’s slumped in a drunken and drugged up state against the front door to your shared apartment, a swarm of people partying the night away behind you.
"Not a clue, love.” Harry finally says, shrugging with an expression worn that screams mischief, “But you know what they say. A stranger is just a friend you haven't met yet!"
You can't help but roll your eyes at his blasé manner. Harry is so relaxed, and you’re so… uptight. It's been this way for as long as you’ve known him, which is so long now that you can't remember life without him.
A lot of people wonder how you’ve managed to remain as best friends considering you’re complete opposites. You’re the glass half-empty. He’s the glass half-full. You’re dressed in all black with a scowl on your face. He’s a grinning, walking rainbow. You’re chalk and cheese, but you just work.
Before you realise it, Harry is slinging his arm over your shoulder like he's done a million times before, and he’s walking you through the sardine-like hallway. You can't spot your actual friends. There are too many people and too much happening, and it’s all starting to feel a bit much for you to handle.
You slip out from under his hold, which isn’t something you do all too often. Now that you have, Harry is quick to whip around and look at you; concern contorting his perpetually happy face.
"You good?"
You shake your head, because you can't lie to him. To other people, you can smile and pretend like you’re okay, but not with Harry. It’s always been different with him. He'd also see through your bullshit if you tried to give him it.
The sound of a glass smashing followed by a loud cheer startles you, your eyes bulging out of your skull from the noise and destruction being caused in your flat.
Harry looks over his shoulder to the source of the disaster, but he’s back to looking at you in an instant with a very sorry smile. You know that he's deliberating between leaving to kick out whoever it is that's making a mess of your home because they've freaked you out, and just staying to comfort you instead.
The latter is opted for, with him stepping forward and holding out his hand out for you to take. You’ve both been in this situation before. He knows what to do.
“I’ve got you.” Harry murmurs, guilt in his gaze, “I’m so sorry for all of this, babe. But I’m here. I’ve got you.”
You say nothing as you link your fingers with his, but you do smile despite feeling panicked. The touch offers that familiar comfort that you know, trust and love so much, and you’re not upset with him for throwing a party. More so yourself for not being able to enjoy it.
Harry avoids taking you further into the crowd, a smart move given your now frenzied state, and heads towards the bathroom, instead. It's the closest door, with both of your bedrooms on the other end of the hallway too out of reach for this kind of situation.
The second you’re both in and Harry closes the door behind, the noise on the other side of it dulls and you already start to feel slightly better. The blue LED lighting he installed in here also helps with that, but then again, so does just his presence.
Harry walks you over to the toilet and closes the lid, guiding you to sit on top of it. You do so with a smile, one that’s returned as he gives your hand a quick and gentle squeeze before letting go and sauntering over to the tub, where you watch him climb in fully clothed.
A small giggle bursts out from you at the sound of his denim-covered ass squeaking against the dry porcelain, which makes him roll his eyes and fight a smirk at your immature behaviour. Next, he’s leaning against the back of the tub; eyelids closing, hands linking behind his head, and he’s dramatically sighing like he’s never been more comfortable.
"You're a weirdo."
His eyes open fast at your playful dig, smile widening further and dimples deepening. You’re obsessed with his little cheek canyons, but you’re not special there. Everybody is.
"Well, that's just rude. I bring you in here, like the hero I am, and this is the thanks I get? You calling me a weirdo?”
You scoff out a laugh as you stand up, Harry's gaze felt following every movement you make over to the small window. It's cracked open a little bit already, which allows in a nice, cool breeze that you needed. You were feeling a bit too warm.
A tinge of melancholia washes over you now, your state contemplative as you stare outside. You're annoyed with yourself for being so easily startled. So quick to panic. You can't help but wonder if others feel the same.
"Don’t you ever get sick of playing the hero for me, H?" You quietly ask, turning to look at him with the back of your head resting against the tiled wall and heart feeling heavy, "You've done it for so long now. I'd be sick of me."
Harry’s brows are furrowed in confusion, as though what you’ve just said was the most ludicrous thing in the world. It wasn’t, though. It was true.
But he argues with a shake of his head, no room for negotiation, "Not a chance. It's me and you forever, babe. So no more stupid questions, or I’m not responsible for dishing out stupid answers.”
You flip him off with a smirk, actions and a facial expression that he matches with ease. That makes you laugh as you grab the carton of cigarettes you left on the window sill earlier on; one pulled out, lit up and puffed in a matter of seconds.
Indoor smoking isn't allowed, but ‘fuck the landlord’ was chanted a long time ago. There’s also a strong smell of weed coming from outside the bathroom, so clearly other's don't give a shit, either.
Harry tsks teasingly,, "Naughty, naughty. What've I told you about smoking?"
You exhale out the corner of my mouth, your cigarette pinched there and brows raise in question, "Only do it if you're doing it?"
"Atta girl. Gimme a draw."
Taking the few steps over to the bathtub, you lower yourself to sit cross-legged on the tiled floor by it. Harry's left arm lazily dangles over the edge, hand doing grabby motions that make you giggle.
You give his grinning self the cigarette, your focus on the way his already sharp jaw sharpens some more from the draw he takes. It’s passed your way again as Harry throws his head back to blow out a thick plume of smoke, eyes on the ceiling while yours are on his throat. Your own has a lump in it, one you harshly swallow away.
"We're never getting our security deposit back."
You giggle at his comment before taking another drag, his head dropping down showing you his sunshine smile as you exhale.
"Think that ship sailed when you burnt a hole in the carpet with a blunt on your birthday last year." You tease.
His focus on your lips is something you’ve noticed countless times before, but never paid much mind to. You know it’s just because he’s paying attention to what you’re saying. Harry is good like that. He really listens.
But it's happening right now, and you’re not speaking anymore.
You clear your throat, Harry snapped out of whatever daze he was in thanks to that. You offer him a curious look, the teasing moment forgotten about. You’re much too focused on what the hell that was, instead.
But he isn’t. Harry nabs the cigarette from your fingers, staring at the burning end for a second before he takes another drag.
You can tell there’s something on his mind, but you’re not the kind of person to pry. If he wanted to say, he would.
So silence surrounds you both as you pass the cigarette back and forth some more. The party still rages outside this room, but you don't find yourself caring or worrying anymore. You’re comforted and calm, even though there's a part of you that feels something else now, too.
You just can't figure out what that is yet, or why it's happening.
"Wanna play a game?"
Upon Harry’s sudden suggestion, you zone back in from zoning out, your eyes landing on his stupidly pretty fingers. With nails painted yellow by you, and chunky gold jewellery wrapped around seven out of ten, they make stubbing the cigarette out in the ashtray balanced on the side of the white porcelain tub look like the most beautiful performance.
Your lips twitch into a smirk as his question finally registers, “What are you… twelve years old?"
He sticks his tongue out at you in a petulant way, proving your point. You scoff a laugh as he slides further down the tub until the back of his neck rests on the edge of it, and he's facing you with a cheeky smile.
“D’you wanna play or not?"
"Depends on what game you had in mind."
"Truth or Dare."
You can't help but scoff another laugh as you shake your head, Harry watching with a fond look in his eyes as you do. You hate your laugh, but he has a way of making it come out in a way that you don't despise.
"You really are twelve, but sure. I'll play. I act as infantile as you, so why not?"
"You know the rules." He smirks, "Can't pick truth twice in a row. It's a cop out."
You give him a deadpan look and go to call him out for the playful jibe, but the sound of a banging on the door interrupts.
"Fuck off, it's occupied!" Harry shouts out abruptly, the sound of dull mumbling and groaning on the other side of the door quick to follow.
That has you giggling and him grinning. His eyes do a slow up and down dance across the entirety of you before locking with your own.
"So… where were we?” He ponders, lips pursing in thought before they're stretched into another brilliant smile, “Oh yeah, the rules. You got it?"
You finally throw him that deadpan look. "H, we've been playing this game on and off for years. I think I know by now."
"Just checking." Harry shrugs, hands raised in defence, “Okay, ladies first. Truth or Dare?"
You know that he expects you to pick truth. Everybody expects it whenever you play, and for good reason. You always pick it.
It's why Harry brought up the rule. You're the shy one, but that's usually because even around all of your other friends, you don't feel fully comfortable.
But it's just you and Harry now. He makes you feel that and more. You’re safe with him.
"Dare."
At that, Harry's eyebrows raise, "Oo, somebody's bold."
You scowl at him playfully, something he laughs at before his gaze wanders the room and lands on something. His face lights up. Inspiration has struck.
"Okay, I dare you to eat the rest of the toothpaste in that tube."
Following his vision, you find the almost finished tube he speaks of lying beside the pot holding your toothbrushes. Any fuller and you'd have said no, not really fancying stomach problems from all the fluoride. But this you can manage.
You stare at him teasingly unimpressed, "Toothpaste? Really? That's the best you can do?"
"Listen, darling, I'm working with what I've got." Harry laughs, nudging his chin toward the tube, "Now go on. Eat!"
Rolling your eyes, you push up to stand and walk towards the toothpaste tube on the countertop. You grab and get to it, the rest of its contents squeezed into your mouth from a height, your tongue out to catch the minty cream. You can feel Harry watching, no doubt with a proud smile that you're doing his dare with a bit of flare.
With a mouth full of toothpaste now closed and stretched into a grin, you glance back his way, finding him indeed watching, but his proud smile is nowhere to be seen.
Instead, you watch as he runs his tongue across his plump bottom lip before he's tugging it behind his two front teeth, his eyes glazed over and black.
The colour change could be from the lighting, but you know you're kidding yourself thinking that. They didn't look that shade before you stood up, and they definitely weren't looking at you with such hunger, either.
You swallow the contents with a hard gulp, bringing a thumb up to clean away a bit of paste at the corner of your mouth. For some reason, you can't look away from Harry as you do it. This new expression of his, one you've never witnessed before... it’s got you in a trance.
Silence swarms you both, a buzz in the air that didn't exist before. You can't place why there is, why it's here, but it makes you feel more comfortable. You feel safer than ever.
"Ta-dah!" You sing out, cracking the silence while waving the empty tube in victory.
Your words break Harry out of whatever daze he seemed to have found himself in yet again. His gaze flits from your mouth to your eyes, a half-smile appearing.
You bow, he claps, and then you're back to the tub and sitting yourself on the edge of it this time, looking down at him looking up at you. That new, wild look is still in his eyes.
What’s caused the change is something you need to know. You wish you could be direct and just ask him, but that's not your style.
But maybe it's time to give your brain a break from all the overthinking and overworking it does by being upfront. By asking questions.
You're comfortable. Safe. The cause of such feelings are the few drinks you've had tonight, the comforting blue bathroom lighting and Harry. Most of all, it's thanks to him. Even if he's looking at you in a way that says anything but comfort.
"What?" You ask, voice barely a whisper.
You wanted to sound a lot more confident, and you also wanted to say more than one vague word. But then again, Harry knows you so well. He knows what you meant.
A small smirk appears on his lips again, the dark shade of his eyes yet to falter as he shakes his head slowly, "Nothing."
That's the first lie Harry’s ever told you. There's definitely something.
Looking at him with squinted eyes that silently calls bullshit, his answer lingers in the air, but you're willing to brush it off. If he wanted to tell you, he would. Moving on from it will just have to suffice. He knows you won't press for more, so he's off the hook.
"Okay, my turn." You mutter, "Truth or Dare, H?"
"Dare."
You knew that was coming, your eyes quick to roam around the bathroom, looking for inspiration. You can feel him watching you. Grinning at you. You're smiling now, too.
Your sights land on the shower head hanging up high in front of him and behind you. A lightbulb goes off in your mind, your grin back to pointing his way.
“Sit in the tub fully clothed while I turn the shower on."
"And you judged me for picking toothpaste?" He taunts, "At least your breath is smelling nice now."
Your mouth drops in faux offence, "Shut up and do it. You need a wash."
He flips you off, giggles pouring from you as you shift to stand. The water is turned on before he can think twice, sputtering to life and shutting his smug self up. Sort of.
"Fuck! Shit! That's so cold!"
His gasped words and fight for breath makes you laugh even more. You hadn’t forgotten how freezing cold the water is before it finally reaches the perfect temperature.
A quick-to-soak Harry seems to realise what you’re in the know of too, his glare betrayed by his grin and giggles, “You're a little fucking witch!"
"You love it really."
At that, his laughter softens and that unfamiliar look crosses his face again. He brings a hand up to wipe the water from his face before he brushes his hair back, all of him now completely drenched.
The water hitting him and the tub is all that can be heard now. There’s no sound of the party anymore.
It's just the pair of you, like you’re the only two people in the world. It always feels like that when it's just you and him.
From the way Harry looks at you again, he seems to think that, too. And it looks like he likes that.
You know you do.
Swallowing hard, you fidget with the hem of your dress, feeling nervous again, "It's your turn to ask me."
Harry smirks once more, an expression of surprise on his face despite the cocky curve of his lips. You’re always quick to end the game. The fact that you’re pressing to play on… that’s new to him. Much like the way he looks at you is new to you.
"Truth or Dare?"
You could easily pick the former since you chose the latter last time, but you’re a little anxious of what he might ask you. You don't have any answers to anything right now.
"Dare."
"Get in the tub with me."
You were quick with your answer, and Harry was quick with his suggestion, but neither of you were as quick as your movements now. There’s no hesitation from you to do as you’ve been dared; another unusual thing for you. You always take a minute to think, or, more accurately, overthink.
Stepping into the tub and under the stream, the water soaks you; sticking your t-shirt dress to you like a second skin as it makes your hair hang heavy in front of your face. You’re both laughing as Harry creates some more space for you by sitting himself up straight.
With his knees popped some more, you lower yourself to the floor and sit facing him cross-legged, your legs narrowly avoiding one another. It's uncomfortable, though.
"Not like that, silly. Put your legs over mine." Harry speaks softly, patting the small space by his hips, "Feet here."
You nod and do as he says, shimmying forward. Your ass now squeaks against the tub, and you’re both laughing louder as you get yourself situated.
Once your feet are planted where he instructed, the sight of one of his hands coming close to your face catches you off guard. Harry hovers by it briefly before reaching to tuck your hair behind my ear; your face no longer hidden, and his bright eyes on full display again.
"There." He murmurs, pulling his hand back after lingering for a moment or two, "Much better."
You find yourself mesmerised not only by his words and touch, but by him. By the droplets running down his face and off of his chiselled jawline. By his eyelashes that are damp and stuck together. By his sopping wet curls chaotically hanging over his forehead.
Harry really is beautiful. It's no wonder that everybody loves him.
The near proximity you’re both in makes you feel nervous, and you don’t know why. But you give yourself a mental head shake, desperate to rid the anxiety you feel and trance you’re under. You’re spiralling, and you shouldn’t be. There’s no reason to.
"Truth or Dare?" You ask, moving the game along.
"Truth."
His reply was quick. Determined. Serious. No theatrics.
And it’s also caught you completely off guard, but something about it is very telling. Like choosing truth is his way of getting you to say, or ask, what you failed to earlier.
So you will.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
Harry's brows furrow, his expression puzzled, "Like what?"
You tilt your head, letting your gaze flit over his face for a moment while pondering how to word what you’re thinking and what his gaze looks like to you.
It comes to you pretty fast, and makes you feel more nervous than ever; a hard swallow following your findings.
"Like you love me."
As you watch Harry's face relax into that familiar smile that you know and love, you also pay witness to his eyes shining brighter than ever. All confusion is gone in him, and stronger than ever in you.
"Because I do."
There’s nothing but truth and conviction in his tone. You know Harry loves you, because he's told you enough times. He’s your best friend for fuck sake, of course he loves you.
But that look he's been giving you, the one he still gives you right now… it’s more than that. So you shake your head dismissively.
"No, that's not it."
"I dunno what else to tell you, babe. That's my answer.” He shrugs, nudging his chin your way, “Truth or Dare?"
That's the second lie Harry has ever told you. You can't stop yourself from growing a little annoyed, as well as more anxious, at his flippant answer and the need to move past it so quickly.
You huff out a sigh, willing to go on even if you’re frustrated, "Dare."
"Kiss me."
Your heart drops to your stomach at the sound of those two words, "Excuse me?!"
"You heard me.” Harry counters quickly,, leaning forward some more with his elbows now resting on the edge of the tub. Water hits your shoulders and sprays onto him, his smile gleaming. His aura bold, “Kiss me."
A nervous laugh leaves your lips, "Friends don't kiss, H.”
His grin widens as he inches closer again. You can smell his cologne, tobacco and vanilla, and it's sending you into a frenzy.
He doesn't look phased by your statement. Instead, Harry roams his gaze over your face, landing on your lips briefly before finding your eyes again, that new but fast-becoming-familiar look in his own more intense. Captivating. Magnetic.
"What if I told you I don't wanna be just friends anymore?"
Your whole body runs hot and cold from his calm confession. There's a swarm of butterflies in your stomach that shouldn't be caused by just a friend. Your best friend. That’s all he's ever been to you, and all you thought he ever would be.
But really, if you’re being totally honest with yourself, to you, Harry has been more than just your best friend for a while.
There have been moments where jealousy has twisted your stomach seeing him kiss his short-lived lovers. Times of tossing and turning where you wished he was in bed next to you, cuddling you to his chest while you chatted. Occasions of pining where you’d both see couples in the street walk hand-in-hand, and you felt tempted to reach out and take Harry’s in yours.
You’ve never made any moves. Never hinted toward having a crush on him. Never really admitted it to yourself, until now.
The fear of things fucking up between you if you took things further, or even opened up about how you felt, was too much to even entertain the idea, so you’d brushed it away. Having Harry in your life as your best friend was better than not having him at all.
And you didn’t think he’d ever feel the same way about you, but now, upon his questioned confession, that’s changed. Everything has, and you want to be as bold as he is about it. To dive in head first. To indulge in the inklings that have been brewing for years. To give yourself over to him in a whole new way.
So you will.
"What if I said I felt the same?" You whisper, sounding nowhere near as confident as Harry did, but that’s standard. He's always been a butterfly. You’ve always been a caterpillar.
You know he sees you as you see him, though. It’s even written all over his beautiful face right now.
Harry inches forward once again, his smile wider than ever so close to your own, "Then I'd say show me exactly what friends aren't supposed to do.”
Unlike so many occasions where you take pause to think of your next move, that's not happening now. It can’t. You’ve paused for too long when it comes to him.
So you push your own head forward, two pairs of smiling mouths so close to meeting that your breaths have struck up a dance. Yours shaky and nervous. Harry's collected and strong.
The tension right now… you need it to snap. You just know it's going to feel so good when it does.
You’re proven right the moment your lips softly connect. Euphoria runs through every inch of your body, a feeling you revel in. One you didn’t think could exist between you and your best friend, but it’s chaos and calm and you already can’t get enough.
Your mouths move in perfect synchronicity, slight trepidation to the embrace like you’d expect from two people kissing for the first time. It’s sweet and wholesome, though, even if the pulse between your thighs and small throaty moan have very different emotions behind them.
Harry breaks the kiss apart, resting his forehead against yours, “You can't be making noises like that, love."
"Why not?" You ask, eyes opening to find his still closed and a smile of contentment on his now glossy lips.
"Because I'll never want you to make any other."
Harry pulls back and gives you his gaze, his pupils now entirely blown out, and you’re hit with understanding of what that look from before meant. Means. You've finally pieced it all together.
It's lust.
He runs his tongue across his lower lip before you’re given another smirk. It's dangerous and divine, and your body reacts to it further in the form of hitched breaths, more butterflies, and a throbbing pussy. You’re falling apart already and all you’ve done is kiss. Maybe that’s all you’ll both do…
But you want to go further, and you can tell Harry does, too. It’s crystal clear. You just need to let him know how you feel in case he doesn’t already know.
"Sounds good to me." You murmur, at peace with your decision. You crave more. Crave him.
Harry seems to agree too, because now it's him that closes the gap between you both. Your lips piece together seamlessly again, starting off sweet and slow like the first one, but it’s quick to transition into anything but that.
You’re both moving messily. Maniacally. The feeling of his tongue lapping itself around yours lets you taste the cigarette you just shared, and the tequila he's been swigging all night. Your body arches into him, hands knotting in his hair tugging at his soaked locks.
Harry groans, the sound guttural and gorgeous. It makes you understand what he meant about only wanting to hear one sound from you, because the noise he just made… it was heavenly. It’s the only one you ever want to hear him make now.
"Harder." He mumbles against your lips, his pleading command doing nothing but make more arousal pool in your panties.
You do as he says, yanking harder. Another gorgeous groan given from him as he cups your face, hands tilting your head back to deepen the kiss. He’s taking full control, which is more than fine by you. You want him to have every bit of you, however he wants it.
The air is hot from the water still pouring as much as it is from the embrace. You smooth your hands away from their hold in Harry's hair to the collar of his rainbow striped t-shirt, grinning against his mouth when he shivers from your touch.
Pulling at it in a silent request for him to take it off makes him laugh through his nose, his hands leaving your face to give you what you want. He stops the kiss to rid the material, the temperature heating up further with the rugged breaths you both make through your separated, swollen lips ghosting one anothers.
Laughter pours too, because Harry struggles to peel his top off. The material is completely drenched and stuck to his skin, but when he frees himself from the fabric and throws it onto the bathroom floor, the laughter fades out fast. Silence swallows you both up comfortably. Nervously. Excitedly.
He cradles your jaw again, gaze darting between your own drinking you in. You nestle into his palm and do the same, absorbing every detail of him.
The strands of wet hair that have fallen over his face and how they’re already starting to adorably curl. His lips plumper than usual from all of the kissing. His stuck-together lashes framing his pretty eyes blinking more frequently, like he’s dazed and can’t believe what’s happening.
Looking down at his torso all naked and on full display, you feel blessed. You’ve seen Harry shirtless a million times, although none quite like right now.
In the blue hue you’re surrounded by, his tattoos pop and look blacker than ever. You get lost looking at his prominent collarbones, subtle pecs, and toned stomach that looks so soft and sweet in his seated position.
And you also fall victim to following the happy trail of sparse hair beneath his belly button that disappears into the waistband of his jeans, a blush on your cheeks as you glance briefly at the hardness confined within them.
"You're so fucking beautiful."
Harry’s mumbled words pull your eyes up, finding him lost in a trance caused by you. Your cheeks that he strokes with his thumbs are rosy red from his compliment, your hands running up his ribs as you give him a dizzy smile.
"Right back atcha, Styles."
He grins and laughs lightly before catching your lips with his again, the kiss picking up where you left off. The pulse between your thighs grows with every swirl of your tongues, every line he gently traces over your cheeks, every soft moan emanating from him.
Your mind spins in the most amazing way, and that only accelerates further when Harry breaks away from your lips to sloppily and hungrily make his way along the jawline he holds, going down to the space beneath your ear. His lips feel incredible, small sparks left behind when he ventures onto your neck and to the hollow of your throat.
Your hands knit in his hair even tighter than before, your moans hitting the air unabashedly. If his mouth feels as magical as this, you’re equal parts nervous and excited to find out how good other parts of him feel, too.
Pressing one more kiss, he now pulls back with a smirk, "So… what else don't friends do?"
He's putting the ball in your court right now, and you know why. Harry, the forever gentleman, is living up to that name. He's making sure you’re comfortable, that you know you’ve got the power here, even if he has the physical upperhand. He wants you to speak your mind now more than ever.
Screwing your mouth to the side in faux thought lasts for a second before you give him a dazzling smile and a shrug, "Friends don't go down on one another."
At that, his brows raise and smile deepens, "They sure as shit don't."
He wastes no time in pressing his lips to yours again, the pair of you simultaneously scooting back until you’re leaning against the edge of the tub behind you; the pouring water ahead.
On his knees between your spread legs, your fingers tangled up in his hair fall from place as he pulls back to sit on his ankles. Harry grins, the stream of water behind him hitting off his broad back and trickling down his front; your eyes shamelessly on the droplets that run down his torso and pool at the hem of his low waist jeans.
Your gaze doesn't stop where the water does, though. With his jeans drenched and clung to him, and the fact they were already slim fitting, the outline of his large, thick cock strains against the material more visible than ever.
You know Harry is well endowed having heard it enough times from many of his conquests. He's always been casual about it, which only confirms the fact he's got a big dick. He exudes that energy, too.
You’ve both also had more discussions than you can count about sexual experiences to know one another's most embarrassing moments, best experiences, kinks and what neither of you like.
For example, you know Harry loves eating pussy as he's talked about the power of it enough times. You say talked, but praised would be a better descriptive word.
While this is all so new and unfamiliar between you, it also feels old and familiar. The information and knowledge about one another is there. You just haven't put it into practice.
But that’s about to change.
Harry's hands move to pull up the fabric of your dress, bunching it up at your hips. Your black lace panties are exposed to him, which makes him let out a gentle groan, before he’s hungrily looking up at you through his lashes.
"How attached are you to these?" He asks, nudging his chin to your underwear.
You smirk, shaking your head, "Not very."
"Was hoping you'd say that."
Before you realise it, your panties are gone. Harry has ripped them effortlessly off your body and thrown the flimsy fabric aside. A small stinging sensation hits your hips from the force, and you moan from the feeling and action.
You’re now completely bare down there, your pussy on full display to Harry for the first time ever. Never in a million years did you think this would be something he'd see, and while you feel you should shy away from that, you can’t. Not when he’s looking at it, at you, with so much desire.
"So pretty." He hums mindlessly, sounding and looking to be in another trance.
You can’t help but giggle, however it's a sound that dies in your throat when Harry takes hold of your calves and lifts them onto his shoulders. Your hands grip the side of the tub as his snake under your ass to grab handfuls of it, elevating you slightly.
His lopsided smile, dangerous and delicious, now hovers between your thighs, only inches away from your dripping cunt.
"Let's see what other sweet sounds I can get out of you, yeah?"
You don't have a response for that. His lust-filled words have you stunned.
Even if you did have one, it wouldn’t see the light of day. Not when Harry pulls a moan from you instead by closing the gap between his mouth and your pussy; his tongue licking a teasingly slow stripe up through it.
Immediately, you fall apart, body tingling from head to toe as you watch him while he watches you. You couldn’t look away even if you tried. You’re hypnotised.
Harry stops at your clit, smiling against you. You pant and squirm; Needy your first, middle and last name.
"I know, babe. I know." He murmurs, his breath fanning and tickling against your hot, soaked skin, "I'll give you more."
Wasting no more time, he completely buries his face between your thighs. Nose flush against your mound, he breathes you in. Lips wrapped around your clit, sucking, licking and kissing it. Head gently and repeatedly moving from left to right, nuzzling as he eats you out like you’re his last meal.
Your hands grip the porcelain of the tub so hard, you swear it could crack. All you can do is moan, moan and moan some more, your head lighter than air and the ability to speak long gone.
But upon his tongue now dipping into your hole, you become a new woman. One possessed.
"Oh my God!" You yell, throat tight and thighs tensing, “Please, H…more!”
And he gives you it, fucking your cunt with his tongue like a man on a mission. You know you’re making a mess of him, although it’s hard to tell what’s you and what’s from the shower head that still sprays and soaks you both.
He’s still grinning against you, and feeling that is as arousing as the way he eats you out. The cockiness. The confidence. The cheekiness. You love it, and it’s got your orgasm building quickly, quicker than it’s ever built up before. It's not hard to tell that Harry knows what he's doing. He really does worship pussy.
Humming in satisfaction, the feeling of it vibrates against you. Sends shockwaves through you. You’re writhing and wriggling uninhibited, your toes curling fiercely and fists white-knuckling the tub.
His mouth moving back to your clit makes your hips buck up, his face pressing further into your cunt. You’d panic, but Harry seems into it, and if anything, he takes it as an invitation to squeeze your ass harder. Devour you even more.
One particularly hard suck on your swollen bud makes the balloon in your stomach pop. A sense of calm and warmth rushes through you as you climax, Harry’s grip on your behind tightening even more than before as you do.
His blunt nails bite the flesh as he pulls off your clit and heads down to your hole, tongue back inside it to collect your release. Through your weary eyes that he’s still locked onto, you watch as he laps up every drop you give him.
Your trembling body starts to settle after what feels like forever of earth-shattering pleasure. Harry lowers you carefully, your ass meeting the tub while you suck in desperate breaths.
He sits back on his ankles, your eyes honing on his tongue. Harry runs it across his bottom lip, savouring every bit of you. He hums at the taste, smiling wickedly.
You’re spent from your orgasm, but also turned on at the prospect of giving him one. He’s had a taste of you. Now, you want a taste of him.
At that, you grin and nudge your chin towards him, "Stand up."
With raised brows and widened eyes, Harry’s grin grows some more. He doesn’t say a thing, but he does do as he was told.
On his feet, water hits the top of his shoulders and sprays over them, thicker beads of it back to running down every delicious contour of his torso. You swallow hard as you shift to rest on your knees, your focus dropping to look at the very prominent bulge in his jeans just begging to be freed.
Smirking up at him, you smooth your palms up his calves and thighs. His chest heaves, breaths rugged from your touch. Harry is putty in your hands, just like you were in his.
You stop the taunting journey at his waistband, running the pad of your index finger along his jagged left hip bone and the fern tattoo inked there. The way he gasps, his stomach twitches and eyes locked on yours grow more feral… it’s intense. It’s incredible.
"Are you always such a cock tease?"
His voice, rough and so arousing, makes you giggle. You dip your digit beneath the denim, gently trailing the back of it along the soft skin.
“Maybe… is that a problem?"
Harry is quick to shake his head, his smirk back and better than ever, "Not at all, love. But I'll be sure to show you just what happens to those who are if you wanna keep it up."
At that, your breath hitches. Your cunt throbs again, thighs squeezed together to satiate it as you move on to undo his jeans; your focus on his face to make sure what you’re doing is okay by him. That he’s okay in general.
The look on Harry’s tells you he's more than that. He looks thrilled.
But he knows you. He understands that you’re looking for reassurance, so he nods and smiles while smoothing your hair back away from your face.
"Go ahead, darling. Do what you want to me. I’m all yours to use however you want."
You can’t help but moan, moving faster, too. Harry chuckles quietly at your eagerness, a shy smile on your face and cheeks painted pink because of it.
With his jeans now undone, you pull the wet material along with his boxers down his legs until they’re at his feet, leaving Harry to step out and kick them away while you hone in on his now free cock.
The tip, all red, swollen and leaking, rests against his lower stomach, staining his skin and happy trail with the milky-coloured precome. Prominent veins run up the length of a silky smooth, thick and long shaft. And his balls, well-groomed and heavy-looking, are just begging to be drained.
You salivate at the sight, looking up at him in total awe only to find he’s looking down at you with the same expression, his hands continuing to run through your hair. You’re starving for Harry, just like he was, and probably still is, for you.
Grabbing his length, you don't waste any time in gently stroking up the skin you knew would be as soft as velvet. A divine whine tumbles from Harry, your hand wrapped around him with a good amount of pressure feeling him out. Squeezing him a little.
Flattening your tongue and swiping it over his slit, cleaning up the precome spilling from it, makes Harry groan. The sound rattles in his chest while the salty taste of him coats your tongue. You hum at the flavour, needing more. Needing all of it.
You wrap your lips around his tip, suckling and flicking your tongue against it. You continue to work his length with your hand, your eyes remaining on his face. You don't want to miss a second of watching him come completely undone from your touch.
And what Harry gives you is pure art. His head alternates between dropping back in pleasure, and his stubbled chin meeting his shaky chest. He fists your hair tightly, fighting his lids to keep his focus on yours. He seems determined to not miss a minute of you, too.
It makes you smile, just like he did when he gave you head. Harry gives you a lazy one back, the glint in his eyes as devilish as your thoughts.
You bring one of them to life by pulling back and delivering a quick spit to his cock. The atmosphere shifts from somewhat slow and sweet to filthy and feral fast, your move catching him by surprise. One he seems to appreciate by the way his fist in your hair tightens further as his eyes grow darker.
"Again."
After moaning at his raspy command, you don’t hesitate to obey it. You spit again, his own groan hitting the air as your saliva hits his cock.
“Such a good girl.” He coos, smirking as he does, “Now clean it up."
You whimper and comply, picking up where you just left off only now, you bob your head as you suck while twirling your tongue around his shaft, lapping up your spit while sinking lower and lower. The more that his cock disappears in your mouth, the louder Harry’s moans get. The more euphoric he looks.
"Look at you almost taking all of me.” He hums, eyes on your lips wrapped around him before meeting your hazy vision, “Think you can fit it all? You’re so close, darling. You wanna keep going for me?”
Nodding as best as you can makes him grin. His tip is grazing the back of your mouth now and there isn’t too much of him left out, but you want it all in just like he does.
Breathing in and out through your nose and gripping Harry's thighs hard, you push your head forward until there’s no more room to go. Your nose is pressed against his lower abdomen, and his cock is curved down your throat, stretching it out.
Spit bubbles in the corner of your mouth as tears spring from your eyes. You’re more light-headed than ever before. Something you can just tell Harry feels, too.
Swallowing around him brings forth the most pornographic-sounding moan, his legs trembling along with it. His eyes roll into the back of his head. His lazy smile lazier.
"Fuck… that it. That’s my good girl.”
You let your throat clamp around and tease his tip for as long as you can before pulling back as soon as you’ve reached your limit. A string of saliva connects your lower lip to his tip as you cough and breathe in much needed air.
Harry's hands in your hair are quick to cup your face again, the pads of his thumbs wiping away the tears before he moves them to sever the spit string. He rubs the moisture across your now swollen, parted lips, grinning down at you brightly.
"God, you’re fucking incredible. " He hums in awe, "Stand up for me, babe."
You pout at him with stitched-together brows, "But I'm not finished."
“If you keep going with your pretty mouth working magic on me like it just did, I will be, and I'm nowhere near ready to let that happen yet.” Harry chuckles, taking a hold of both your hands, " C'mon, now. Be a good girl and stand."
The praise. The nickname. The way he touches you. Looks at you. He could have you do whatever he wanted, truly.
You let him help you up, your wet dress stuck to your body capturing his attention. His eyes are brazenly glued to your tits, a smirk worn while you fight your own.
Pinching the hem of your dress that fell back to your mid-thigh as you stood up, you now pull it up and off your body, and toss the fabric to lie with his clothes. You stand before Harry entirely naked now as he does for you, no bra to take off. You’re not a fan of them.
His blown-out gaze lingers on your chest as his hands find their home on your hips, his thumb rubbing soft and slow circles. He hides his bottom lip behind his sweet bunny teeth, but when his eyes meet yours again, his lips shift from twitching at the corners into a full blown smile.
"You're so pretty, babe." He whispers, tone low but honesty loud, "So fucking pretty."
Your skin tints pinker at yet another one of his compliments. It’s not the first time he's ever said such a thing, but it’s different now. It means something more.
Your mouths meet again, the pair of you humming as you kiss. You swipe your tongue across his lower lip, asking him to let you in. You want to taste yourself on his tongue. You want him to taste himself on yours.
He lets you in, clearly just as eager. The second your tongues touch and the taste of one another is shared, you’re both moaning in delight.
Harry pulls you closer to his body until you’re flush against him. His quivering cock is pressed against your stomach, and his hands slip down to once more take greedy handfuls of your backside.
He grins against your mouth before pulling his away, "You okay, babe?"
His voice so full of care warms you up. You nod fast, grinning back just as wide.
At that, Harry laughs loudly, the sound filling your heart to the point you worry it could explode. You've loved his laugh for so many years, but now it's like you’re hearing it for the first time. Everything is brand new and beautiful.
The sound fades out, but his grin remains. Harry jerks his chin towards the wall behind you.
“Put your back against the wall, and lift a foot onto the side of the tub."
You once more clench around nothing thanks to his words and the dominant cadence he delivered them in. You take the steps back until you reach the wall, your spine meeting the tile, and raise your right leg before resting your foot on the edge of the porcelain.
Harry follows in your footsteps, stopping between your parted legs. He roams every inch of your face and torso, honing in on your pussy all spread and soaked.
He groans at the sight, which makes you shiver and mewl, and the sound earns his eyes back on yours.
"You're still on the pill, right?"
“I am." You tell him truthfully, swallowing hard, “Why? You wanna fuck without a condom?”
His gaze grows hazy. Smirk as devilish as ever, "Only if you’re comfortable with that. There’s a box of them in the cabinet if not, so I don’t mind grabbing one.”
You shake your head fast, “No condom. I wanna feel every bit of you, but only if you’re comfortable with it, too.”
“I am.” He echoes your earlier words, lips stretching from a smirk into a toothy grin, “I wanna feel every bit of this sweet cunt, too. Been dreaming about it for so long.”
The back of your head falls back to press against the tiles, tipped that way to stare up at Harry staring down at you. Your eyes are wide with the surprise you feel hearing him say such a thing.
“You have?”
“Mhm.” He hums, dipping down to run his nose along the length of yours, “‘M more than happy to divulge my dirty daydreams about you later, babe. But right now, I’m a little more focused on making them a reality. What d’ya say?”
You choke on a breath, blinking rapidly as you nod, “Okay. Yeah. Sounds good.”
Harry laughs, the sound as infectious as ever pulling giggles from you. Your hands slide along his arms while his grip your hips, the firmness in his touch almost as dizzying as watching him now gather saliva behind his teeth to spit a string of it down onto his rock solid cock.
You try to swallow the moan that comes from the sight of that, but it’s impossible. It was just too hot, and watching Harry now fuck his fist with his right hand only makes it more of a challenge. Especially when he’s moaning, too.
Squirming impatiently, a desperation like no other has taken over you. Harry pulls himself together a tad, sending you a taunting grin mixed in with a scolding expression.
"Needy little thing, aren't you?"
You nod and whimper “yes” as he continues to stroke his cock, the tip of it brushing against your stomach. More precome blurts from his slit, staining your skin. Teasing you.
"C'mon, Harry.” You whine and writhe, “Give it to me."
Before you realise it, Harry's cock is at your entrance, the head of it gently grazing your hole. He removes his hand now that he’s anchored in, his fingers gathering the saliva and precome cocktail from his shaft before he’s smearing it across your parted lips that pant out heavy breaths of want.
Just when you think he’s about to give in and give you what you want, he’s gripping your face tightly. Your mouth puckers up while his stretches into a grin, his stare more intense and wicked than ever.
"Say please."
"Please. God- please." You beg, mumbled thanks to Harry's hold on your face, and his words scrambling your brain. You can feel yourself dripping down your thighs, so turned on you could actually cry.
His hand softens until he’s cupping your chin in his palm, fingers either side of your cheeks so soft and tender, “Good girl.”
Pushing his hips up, his cock slowly starts to slide in. You moan loudly, your wet walls stretching to allow his thick length in, yet they hug him so tightly, too. You can feel every delicious ridge of his length, your pussy fluttering as your eyelids do the same.
With his mouth back on yours, Harry catches your sounds. They harmonise gorgeously with his own; every inch of Harry sinking inside of you causing both to grow in volume.
Balls deep, he stops. Your lips separate, sweat-slicked foreheads pressing together and broken breaths fanning across one another’s faces. You’re smiling lazily. Harry is, too.
“You okay?” He sweetly asks, sounding as dizzy as you are, “How d’you feel?"
"So fucking good. Better than good. Perfect. You’re perfect.”
Harry chuckles gently, kissing the tip of your nose. "Right back atcha. How d’you want me?”
“Fast. Rough. Please.”
“You got it, love.”
The sweet, tender moment ends there. He pulls out fast only to push back in even faster, fucking up into you just how you wanted. The atmosphere becomes as feral as the noises you both make, the squelching sound of your cunt wrapped around his cock and his balls slapping against you.
"Fuck, Harry… right there!” You cry out, tears rolling down your face, “Please, don't stop!"
Your hands in his hair are white-knuckled, much like his right hand on your hip. His left now slaps against the tiled wall beside your head behind you, using it to support himself to keep up the animalistic pace.
Sex on someone else has never looked so good. Harry is sex. Pure fucking sex.
His brow is all furrowed and sweat-slicked, with soaked strands of hair clinging to it and hanging over his blacked eyes that flit between your fucked-out face and bouncing tits. His sharp jaw twitching. His swollen lips parted allowing out pants and groans.
You’re on cloud nine, and you know he’s right there with you. But you can both go beyond there. Together, you can fly through space.
“Choke me, Harry.”
At your request, his jaw clenches harder and he sends you another dangerous smile. His hand on the wall moves to cup the side of your neck, his head cocked in intrigue.
"Is that what you want?"
You nod slowly, smirking back, "Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t. Give me a necklace as pretty as the one I gave you."
Your focus flits down to the beaded accessory still worn by him as he laughs through his nose, palm sliding to the front of your throat. The way he moves it is slow. Careful. A complete juxtaposition to the fast and hard fucking he's giving you.
"What else do you want?" He asks, his tone laced with challenge.
“Your come.” You whine, wetting your lips while clenching your cunt, “Wanna milk every last drop from you. Want you to fuck it deep inside me.”
Harry’s eyes roll from your words before he’s back to pinning them on you and piercing you with his stare.
Panting sharp puffs of air through his parted lips that are curled at the corners from his smirk, his hand wraps around your throat; his fingers pressing into the exact right places with the exact right amount of pressure.
You grow dizzier, more light-headed, than ever. Your grin is lazy, and you’re totally lost to the incredible feeling of being choked as you’re being ruined, your moans croaky and pussy wetter than it already was.
"Such a good girl taking me like this.” Harry grunts, your hazy vision clearing to find his looking glazed over, “You thought about this happening between us like I have, baby? Thought about me balls deep in your tight little cunt? My hand squeezing your throat as tightly as your pussy squeezes my cock?”
Whimpering at his words, you nod your head as best as you can, "Fuck, I have. So many times, H."
You’re not lying there. There have been more than a few occasions that you’ve thought about it, especially when you’d heard him fucking somebody else through the thin wall that connects your bedrooms.
But you were just friends. Best friends. You had no intentions of telling him your thoughts or how you wished it was you he was fucking. You didn’t want to lose him if he didn’t feel the same way about you.
That’s no longer a concern anymore, and thank God for it.
Harry moans, pulling you towards him by his grip on your throat. Your mouths meet hard, tongue and teeth clashing together in a way that feels dirty, messy and completely perfect.
Separating, he rests his forehead against your own, your eyes locked on one another's as he continues to fuck up into you with all he has. The position he's got you in hits so deep, you swear you can feel him in your belly. You’re so full. So fed. So happy.
While he adds a little more pressure to your throat, his left hand leaves your hip to press against your lower stomach. You choke on your restricted breaths as he palms where his tip bulges, your whole body trembling and orgasm so close to wrecking you.
“Fuck.” Harry hisses, jaw clenched and teeth gritted, “Got me all the way up here, huh? S’it feel good for you, baby?”
“So good.” You hum, tone tight as you nod needily, “Swear your cock was made for me. Feels so right.”
Harry whimpers at that, "Fuck, it was. It does. Keep going, darling."
"Nobody's fucked me as good as you, ‘n I know nobody ever will again.” You pant, swallowing hard against his palm while you pull his cock in deeper with a squeeze of your cunt, “A match made in heaven, you and me."
"Fucking heaven." He mumbles and nods mindlessly, clearly as blissed-out as you are.
Your high now hits so hard that it almost pushes him out of you, but Harry fights to stay inside. He somehow fucks you even harder, and it’s to the point that you see white and scream his name with all you can muster.
And your orgasm triggers his. His body hunching and hot load painting your walls only extends the euphoria you’re experiencing.
His hand on your throat remains tight, with yours in his hair the exact same as you moan into one another’s open mouths. If you weren’t pressed against the wall and somewhat held up by Harry, you’d be on the ground while your soul floats away.
Your climax fades, but little aftershocks of it tingles your skin while you pant as breathlessly as he does. Both of you start laughing lightly and deliriously, like you’re both in disbelief over what just happened.
Harry pulls back, mouths separating so he can show you his grinning self properly, "I think I saw stars."
You can't help but giggle at his comment, nodding slowly, “Me too."
"We could get used to it, you know? Set up home amongst them… would be a pretty view all the time. What d'ya think?"
"I say let’s do it. It’s cheaper than what we pay for this shit hole we call a home, and waaaaay more fun to get to."
His louder laughter fills the air and warms your heart, "Can't say I disagree with you there, babe."
You hum at the kiss he presses to your forehead, but a hiss follows upon him slowly pulling out. Harry murmurs apologies, then gives your pouting lips from missing him inside of you already another quick peck as you feel his release trickling down your leg.
He steps back, greedy gaze on his come blurting out of your cunt. A filthy-sounding groan rumbles in his chest, a cheeky smirk stretching his lips as he meets your eyes again.
“Now that right there? That's the third prettiest view."
Your brows stitch together in confusion, “Huh?”
"Second spot is the stars that our magical sex sent us to.” Harry elaborates quickly, grabbing the shower head and rinsing his release away, “First is your face."
And while you should blush, roll your eyes and try to fight a smile from his cute albeit cheeky compliment, you can’t.
You feel anxious, because you two just fucked. Where you stand with one another needs to be talked about.
"Things aren't gonna be weird between us now… right?"
"Weirder than how we usually are or?"
“You know what I mean.” You send him a deadpan look, but it shifts to match the panic that twists your stomach, "You mean so much to me, H. I can't lose you, I just can't-”
“Hey, hey.” Harry is quick to cut you off, hanging the shower head up before he’s cupping your face, “That’s not gonna happen, babe. I fucking promise, okay? I’ve got you now and always. ‘M not going anywhere. Not without you, ‘n I want weird anyway.”
"What do you mean?"
He sighs shakily, a look of nervousness across his face now. It's a look you never see from him. He's always so confident and put together.
"If things weren't weird now, it would mean that we're still just friends and that we went back to our normal after this." He hums, thumbs stroking circles against your skin, "I don't wanna be just friends anymore. I haven't wanted to be just friends for a long time."
"You haven't?"
A shy head shake is his answer. You’ve got more questions to ask.
"For how long?"
"Probably since the moment I met you."
Your mouth drops open in complete shock, "What the fuck, Harry?! Why didn't you say anything?!"
"You know me, love. I open up when I feel ready.” He chuckles, shrugging casually as he takes a subtle deep breath in and out, his smile brightening by the second, “I'm ready now, though. I'm sorry I took so long to be."
Your eyes dart between his, and you’re at a complete loss for words. There's no way you ever expected this to happen, for tonight to have gone the way it has. That you would hear Harry admit years-long feelings that he’s had.
But it makes sense that he has. That you have, too.
You're the perfect match in every way. You balance each other out completely. You know everything about each other. You love everything about each other, too; flaws and all. That's a rare thing to find.
And now, thinking about it, you’re glad you both waited until tonight to say, or do, a thing about your feelings. Building a foundation as strong as yours means that your future together will be all the more solid.
Your mind jumps back to earlier on when you asked Harry why he was looking at you like he loved you, and he said it's because he does. You knew then that the look meant more than friendship, but you couldn’t quite figure out exactly what else it could be. Or perhaps you did know, but just wouldn’t let yourself believe it out of fear of heartbreak.
But now, you’re not afraid. You’re excited. And you’re looking back at Harry in the exact same way, for the exact same reason.
"You really love me, don't you?"
With a twinkle in his eyes, Harry lets that shy smile stretch wider. He knows you know now. He knows you feel it in the same way, too.
"More than anything."
And upon him whispering those three little words that have the same effect as three other different ones, you just know that absolutely everything will be okay.
After a wild night of karaoke and drinking, you’re ready for bed. But Harry has other ideas…
Mature Content: explicit language, alcohol consumption (both intoxicated, consenting adults in a loving relationship), oral sex (f receiving), spit kink, light choking, hair pulling, size kink, mommy kink & unprotected sex. For an 18+ audience only.
Word Count: 6.3k
“Get your arse up to bed, Harry!”
“Make me.”
From where he stands across from you in the kitchen, he sends you a Cheshire Cat smile. Arms behind his back. Swaying side to side in a taunting way. There’s a cheeky glint in his eye like always, but it’s cheekier than ever.
You’re as swept up in it as you normally are, but his sass and stubbornness prevents you from falling too deep. You instead tut and make moves towards him, more than ready to do what he wants if it means putting his wasted ass to sleep at what must be way past four a.m.
But upon you stumbling a tad and catching yourself on the kitchen island, because you’re just as plastered as your man, Harry starts cackling. You stand tall, scowling as he throws his head back to let the laugh out, his belly shaking and feet taking him back a step or two. You’re actually surprised he hasn’t fallen over yet. He’s a clumsy sod whenever he’s a few shots deep. Bambi on ice comes to mind.
“God, you’re so drunk!”
“Am not!” You lie pointlessly, your slurred words a dead give away.
The pair of you were only meant to be out for a couple of hours. A nice, quiet and romantic meal together was the original plan, the night ending with you two heading home and falling asleep all cuddled up in bed well before midnight.
However, at the sight of a neon karaoke sign, other arrangements were quickly made. Neither of you can just idly walk by a karaoke bar. You both love them too much, hence now being mortal messes at almost sunrise.
You reach for his arm, but end up grabbing the fridge handle instead — funny how that happens — and start to think about food. You pull it open, your back facing Harry, the view inside glorious.
“Fuck, I’m so hungry.” You moan, eyes scanning over the items trying to decide on what to choose, “I’m making something to eat.”
The feeling of large, soft hands smoothing across your belly catches you by welcome surprise, your body melting against Harry’s now pressed against you from behind. His arms wrap around your waist. Chin on your shoulder. Facial hair tickling your cheek.
“I know what I want to eat.” He hums, pressing a lazy kiss to your neck, “Gimme a bit of you, darling. Just a little taste.”
You roll your eyes and scoff, even though his velvet voice and teasing touch has the existence of butterflies going bananas in both your stomach and between your legs, “Nice try. That slick tongue isn’t working its magic on me tonight.”
“It could if you asked nicely.” He says, burying his face against the crook of your shoulder, inhaling you, his dopey drunken grin felt against your skin, “I’ll treat you real good. I always treat you real go-”
“Cake!” You yell out, the two-tiered chocolatey goodness stealing your attention despite Harry’s best efforts to keep it, “Fuckin’ score!”
“‘M glad someone’s scorin’ tonight.” He laughs against you as you reach for the plate, a kiss pressed to your temple as he slips his hands away.
You turn around, finding him playfully pouting. The puppy dog eyes are out as he retreats to lean against the kitchen island, one foot crossing over the other once there.
Harry nudges his chin toward the cake, then nods his head for you to come closer, “If I’m not getting a slice of you, you can gimme a slice of that.”
“Make me.”
Parroting his previous words while mirroring the grin he wore when he said them makes him raise a brow, and his lips pucker at your insolence. It sends a shiver through your drunk self, the kind that suddenly makes you want to rip his clothes off and jump his bones. You’re a woman of many talents, as your love likes to say, and the best one is your ability to change mood in an instant. You can go from hungry to horny in the blink of an eye.
Harry doesn’t say a thing, but he does amble over to a kitchen cabinet for a bottle of whiskey. He grabs a shot glass, pours himself a measure, and necks it with ease before he’s back to grinning at you while walking to lean against the island again.
You simply gawk at him for how hot all of that was. You’ve seen him do a hundred shots over the years, but you'll never not turn into mush watching it happen. The way his large, veiny hand makes the tiny glass look even tinier. How his head tosses back. Jaw tenses. Throat bobs. No wince. Just a gasp of pure delight.
“You’ve got until I get to the count of three to bring your cute, bratty ass here.”
His threat brings a stop to your dizzy daydreaming moment, launching you back into the now where you were acting up. Your parted mouth bends into a smirk. Heart beating hard beats harder some more.
“Or what?” You ask, head tilted. Tongue tauntingly running over your bottom lip, “You gonna smack it?”
Harry lets his other brow rise too, a smirk on his lips now, “One…”
“Ooo, he’s counting.”
You watch him try not to laugh, determined to keep his cool, “Two…”
“I think we’re safe, Cakey. He doesn’t know what comes after two.” You whisper to the plated pudding in your hands.
Another laugh stifled, his bunny teeth on display as he tucks his bottom lip behind it to stop the sound from coming out, “Three.”
And you haven’t moved an inch, except for your smirk. That’s wider now. You grin so hard that if you weren’t wasted, and your face wasn’t numb from all the alcohol, it would ache. Wind-up mode that you know Harry loves so much fully activated.
He shakes his head slowly, kissing his teeth, “You’re in for it now.”
“You’ll have to catch me first.”
And then you’re off. You feign moving to the left, going to the right instead, but Harry knew that was coming. He knows you like the back of his hand.
He uses both of his to swoop you up from the ground as you try to dart past him. Your back is now pressed to his front, belly aching and shaking with laughter held by his strong arms, and legs kicking out in playful protest.
The next thing you know, you’re both on the floor. Harry on his backside, and you between his legs. Two thuds and two ouches, but you aren’t the only ones.
A third thud. No ouch. The cake that hits the ground too can’t talk, obviously.
“NO!” You both yell simultaneously soap opera style, looking at the cake face down and splattered across the tiled floor. Thankfully it’s on a paper plate, so that isn’t smashed. Unlike like the two of you.
Silence follows, the pair of you grieving the loss. You loved that cake. You and that cake could have had a good life together.
“I actually think I might cry.” You mumble, head shaking in disbelief, “A dead dessert, ‘n I think I’ve just broken my arse too. I should’ve just let you smack it. At least that’s a fun pain.”
Your focus on the pudding becomes obscured, because Harry has crawled to sit before you. His hands cup your face, and he’s frowning adorably. You’re almost certain you can see tears brimming in his pretty green doe eyes.
“I’m so sorry, flower. ‘S all my fault.” He presses a kiss to your lips in haste, then another. Then another. Then one more for good measure, “‘M gonna make it right, ‘kay?”
You’re not given a second to tell Harry that he doesn’t need to apologise, that it’s not his fault and there’s nothing to make right (it’s just cake at the end of the day, even though you’re now craving it more than ever), because the next thing you know, he’s on his feet. Then he’s stumbling towards the cupboards. And finally, he’s opening them all up, pulling out random things as he goes.
“Baby, what are you doing?” You ask with a light, confused-sounding laugh, pulling yourself up to stand, but wincing as you do. The ache in your backside is strong. Clearly the booze is starting to wear off. If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t have a second heartbeat there.
Setting everything down on the counter, he casts you a smile over his shoulder that shrugs nonchalantly, “Baking you a cake.”
“You are not!” You laugh again, louder and no longer confused, while walking toward him, “Harry, I love you soooo much, and I appreciate you so much too, but you’re not baking at four in the bloody morning!”
“Why not?” He huffs, turning around and draping his arms over your shoulders with a toothy smile, “‘S the best time to bake. The shop opens soon.”
“You worked at a bakery for one summer and you can’t let it go.” You giggle again, shaking your head as you wrap your arms around his waist. This man… “Where’d I find you, huh? You’re an absolute riot, and I’d like to return.”
“No returns, no exchanges. That was the policy you unknowingly agreed to, and the boyfriend store is closed for good now.” Harry tells you matter-of-factly, more laughter pouring from you at his cheeky, charming ways, “Sorry, darling, but you’re stuck with me.”
“Pity. I was wanting an upgrade.”
His jaw drops, a shocked laugh scoffed out, “And to think I was gonna bake a cake for you! It’s you that needs to apologise to me now!”
“Mm, and how can I do that?” You tease, fingers now mindlessly playing with the waistband of his bottle green slacks at the base of his spine, the fabric of his sage green silk shirt tucked into them so soothing, “A kiss?”
He shakes his head, mischief in his eyes as he looks at your own that are filled with the same emotion. You know what he’s about to say, and you’re now more than ready and happy to give him what he wants, because it’s what you want, too. If you can’t have cake, you’ll have him, although you’ll always want him more than chocolate. That’s how you knew it was real love.
“A dance.”
Your eyes widen in surprise at his request, which makes Harry chuckle. You weren’t expecting that, but you’re not mad about it. Not one bit.
Nudging his chin your way once more, he gives you a smirk, “C’mon, flower. Dance with me?”
You’ll never miss an opportunity to dance with Harry. It’s one of your favourite things to do. To be in his arms either sober, tipsy or drunk, and spin and sway around a room while he murmur sings in your ear a song that isn’t playing is the closest thing to heaven on earth.
You don’t need the music at all. His voice is that and more. He knows you love it when he takes breaks between lyrics to tell you how much he loves you, sentiments you reciprocate just as fast and fondly, or to press sweet kisses to your forehead, nose, cheeks and lips. You kiss him back just as many times.
So you accept his request – after sinking a shot of whiskey to stay on his level of drunkenness. That earned you a whistle and a cheer from him, which made you blush, roll your eyes and grin giddily before you fell back into his arms again.
You’re both still buzzed from the buckets of booze necked tonight, but it’s easing off a little despite the whiskey refreshers. You can tell that Harry is turning just tipsy now from the way his cheeks have shifted from rosy red to perfect peach, and the fact he’s standing on your toes less and less with every step he takes as throughout the kitchen dance. You can tell you’re turning just tipsy now from picking up on the colour difference in his skin, and the fact you’re standing on his toes less and less with every step you take throughout the kitchen dance as well.
The sunrise is already starting to happen given its summer, its dreamy light gold glow casting through the large windows. It shows off the slight reddish tint that runs through Harry’s cropped curls, rays of it around his head like a halo, which makes sense. He is an angel, after all. Yours.
Against your palms, you can feel the ridges of his back muscles through the bottle green blazer that matches his slacks. Your torso pressed against his graced by the contours of his pecs and abs through his shirt. He’s somehow both hard and soft, a juxtaposition that will never not make you dizzy. That you’ll never not love. You always feel so safe in his arms, because they’re home. Harry is home.
And while the moment between you is loving and sweet, you can still feel a different vibe emanating, one that started off before cakegate and continued a little just after. You know he can feel it, too. You can tell by the way he’s looking at you. Like you’re the dessert.
It’s why you give him a bright smile while eyeing him up, head cocked to the left, “You still wanna treat me real good, baby? Still fancying a little taste of me?”
And just like that, one dance ends and another begins, an answer given by Harry in the form of lifting you up for a second time tonight. You squeal in delighted surprise, your feet gone from the ground, and backside meeting the marbled kitchen island countertop.
He grins, slotting himself between your thighs, hands leaving your hips to cup your face. You’re breathless from the moves. From the man. From the moment.
His mouth meeting yours steals what little breath you had left, and it’s a startling shift from the delicate dancing you were just doing, because there is no delicacy now. The way he kisses you is hot and heavy, an energy you match effortlessly.
The embrace is all fast lips, clashing teeth, entwining tongues and loud moans. Your hands in his hair. His cradling your jaw, tipping your head back to dominate your mouth.
You tug at his roots and give him bottom lip a quick nip, the most salacious sound rattling in his throat following. It makes you grin, the expression aching your face that’s burning up in bliss.
He pulls back, your eyes opening to find his blown out. Harry rakes them all over your expression as yours do the same to his. He looks as hot and bothered as you feel, with a glossy, swollen mouth stretched into a smirk.
“How’s your ass?”
You chuckle at his question, “Could use a little lovin’. How’s yours? It didn’t half take a hit as well.”
“It’s been hit harder, or don’t you remember?” He grins, his nose now running along the length of your own while you clench around nothing at the memory he’s just evoked in your mind, “‘M fine, though. Want me to kiss yours better?”
Shaking your head, you use your hold in his hair to tug him, hinting, “Kiss somewhere else first.”
His eyes widen a little, hands dropping from your face to splay against the marble by your hips as he tuts, “Where’s your manners, huh? You’re usually so polite.”
“Please, Harry.” You coo as sweet as sugar, leaning forward with fluttering lashes while nudging the tip of his nose with the tip of your own, “Be a good boy and eat my pussy.”
Another groan from him, his eyes rolling into the back of his head for a hot second before he’s recalibrated, sights set on you and grin wide, “Now was that so hard?”
“No. But you are.” You tease, his erection straining against his slacks felt against your centre, “Get to work, baby. If you’re lucky, I’ll let you come too.”
Within a second, your back is flat against the countertop. Harry gently nudged you to lie before sinking to his knees between your thighs, with you giggling as he did.
Those heighten now as he tugs you to the edge of the surface. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you look down at him to find him already looking up at you. Lazy smiles decorate both of your faces, his hands under your dress making hasty work of pulling your panties down.
“Someone’s needy tonight.” You tease, lifting your hips to help him out.
Harry tosses the fabric over his shoulder, your legs draped over them as he stands tall on his knees with his face level with your cunt, “For you, my love? Always.”
And without hesitating a second longer, he pushes your thighs further apart, and dives forward to taste you. All movements fast. Desperate. Like a man possessed.
His wet tongue slowly licks up through your equally wet slit, hums of satisfaction sounding out from him as he tastes you. Breathes you in. You shudder and shake already, head tossing back and smile wide while panting hard.
But the feeling of his lips wrapping around your clit that he starts to suck makes your chin meet your chest, your blurry vision blinked clear to take in the sexy sight of him. He’s smirking as he works, which turns you on as much as his mouth does. Harry’s face between your legs, mouth on your cunt and nose pressed firmly against you will never not be absolutely stunning. Especially when he looks so damn pleased with himself.
You give him a grin, a hand leaving the surface to hold the back of his head, “You’re doing so good, baby. Keep going for me, yeah?”
He nods and hums, the movement and his moustache tickling you, and the sound vibrating through. Both things only add to the pleasure you feel, something you know he’s experiencing, too. He loves eating you out, an expert in the art of it, and he loves praise. Calling Harry a good boy and telling him he’s doing a wonderful job is his kryptonite.
It also spurs him on. He’s still sucking on your throbbing clit, but now the tip of his tongue moves against it in fast flicks as well. The wet sounds of your cunt that he feasts on harmonise with your moans, your fingers knitted in his hair holding him in place against you. Not that he plans on leaving. Harry won’t let himself go anywhere until you’ve had your orgasm, and he’s got the proof of it all over his lips and chin.
His palms were stroking up and down your trembling thighs, but now they splay across your stomach. Fingers linking, he presses down to keep you in place. He’s eating you out like you’re his last meal, the speed of his tongue quickening. The desperation he feels heightening.
All of his movements make it harder for you to breathe, see, think, and you definitely can’t speak a full sentence anymore. Nothing but broken moans and his name whimpered leave your lips that are still pulled into a grin of pure euphoria; his own also felt against your cunt.
The knot in your stomach comes closer to unravelling with every suck and lick Harry gives your throbbing clit, a feeling that only grows more intense now that he’s brought his right hand down to your dripping hole and slipped his index and middle fingers inside of your pussy. Knuckle deep, with the cool metal of his rings kissing your skin, he pumps them in and out of you fast, curling them in that perfect way to hit that sweet spot.
The sounds of your arousal around his digits is obscene. Pornographic. You don’t think you’ve ever been wetter, and you’re gasping for air, with tears stinging your eyes. Your brain feels fuzzy. Body turned to jelly.
“Fuck- H! Faster, baby, please.” You manage to moan out the most coherent sentence for a while, nodding deliriously next, “I’m so close!”
And he does what he’s told, because he always does what he’s told when you’re the one telling him to do it. Harry’s fingers fuck you faster, and the speed of his tongue goes quicker than ever.
It’s only seconds later that you’re coming, thighs tensing hard around his head. Toes cramping so fiercely it physically hurts. Stars seen behind your screwed shut eyes making all of the pleasurable pain even more worthwhile. Arousal gushing from you coating his tongue and fingers in such a high quantity that you feel drained.
He now lightly laps against you, catching every bit of release you give him, his whimpers garbled and grin still wide. You’re huffing and puffing, fingers sore from gripping his hair so hard. The rest of you feels liquified. Light. Loved.
Now spent, your high something he rode you through and enjoyed every drop of, Harry pulls his fingers out while pressing soft and sweet kisses all over your core. It makes you smile, aftershocks of your orgasm causing the occasional shudder. Your hand stroke through his hair while his palms are back to running up and down your thighs.
Once your breathing is back to somewhat regulated, he pulls back. Your legs over his shoulders manoeuvred to wrap around his waist as he stands tall. His face all flushed inches toward yours, the smell of you on his breath so sweet. Such a turn on. Harry wears your come like lip gloss, a good helping of it soaking his moustache and stubbled chin.
He grins, nose brushing against the length of yours, “How was that for treating you good, huh?”
“You never miss.” You hum, grinning back. It’s true. You’re still waiting for your soul to return to your body.
“Damn fuckin’ right I don’t.”
You giggle, bringing both of your hands to link around his neck. Harry brings his right one to cup the front of your throat, the left the back of your head, teasing and tilting you just how he likes. How you like, too.
“Open up that pretty mouth for me, darling.”
You do just that, ready for what you know is about to come. Yours, mixed in with his saliva.
Harry doesn’t disappoint. He spits straight into your mouth, and then he’s slamming his against it. The kiss is deep. Sloppy. You can taste yourself all over his tongue, your tongue, and it’s sending you into a frenzy. Recharging you with a desire for more pleasure despite just experiencing a healthy dose that almost wiped you out.
He pulls his lips away, which makes you chase them, him, desperate for more. But Harry keeps you pinned in place with his grip on your throat and a tut.
“Now who’s being needy?”
You pout, cunt throbbing again, “You complaining?”
“Not at all, flower.”
Slipping his hand from the back of your head to your ponytail, he wraps it around his wrist and tugs. Your head tilts back fast, a sweet sting felt all over your scalp that makes you gasp and clench around nothing.
“But you’ve had your good treatment.” He coos, peering down at you with piercing eyes and a pleased smirk, “I made you come so hard. So much. It’s my turn, don’t you think?”
“Yes.” You rush out breathlessly, any bratty response you might have previously given no longer an option. Harry’s got you so worked up again already. You need him now. Need him to do whatever the fuck he wants to you.
“Good girl.” He grins, letting go of your hair and nodding his head; a gesture for you to climb off of the countertop, “Bend over.”
With the help of his hands, you slide off of the surface, turn around and lie your torso flat against the cool marble with your hands either side of your head. You can feel Harry’s eyes glued to your backside, the gap he created to let you get into position now closed again, and his fingers pinching the hem of your dress slowly lifting it up to your hips.
A low groan rattles in his chest, you bare ass now on show. His stare scorches. Drives you wild. Makes you squirm.
Now his touch has the same effect. Harry, as soft as silk, skims his palms over the rounds of your ass, squeezing your cheeks. Spreading them a little, too.
“Got a little bruise on your peach.” He hums, his feather-light yet feral touch on the tender area so soothing, “Can I kiss it better now?”
“Please do.”
And with that, he sinks to his knees for the second time tonight. His soft lips press a gentle kiss against the sore spot, but you know he won’t stop there.
With his hands on your hips and thumbs rubbing small circles, Harry trails his perfect lips up to the base of your spine, sweetly kissing each dimple that decorates the bottom of it. You smile, feeling wanted. Worshipped. You’re his deity, and he never misses a day of praying to you.
Along with his mouth peppering kisses up your back, your dress bunched at your hips rises higher as well, with his fingers back to tugging the material up your body. You stand straight to help him rid the garment completely, the fabric tossed to the ground once off; one final kiss pressed to your temple.
You stand completely naked, his hands quick to teasingly slide up your stomach and palm your tits. He cups and squeezes, toying with your nipples while nibbling your lobe. Your back arches, your chest pressed further into his touch and your ass against his rock solid cock, your head falling back against his shoulder as whine after whine tumbles from your mouth.
“Your body drives me crazy. You drive me crazy. Love you so much.” Harry purrs, voice rugged and smirk evident.
Your heart hammers hard, thighs squeezed together tightly to try and dull the throb in your pussy. But the way he’s playing with your tits and murmuring sweet nothings in your ear while now grinding his length against your ass means nothing will help. Nothing except for him being inside you.
“Love you so much, too.” Your response is breathy, the smile on your face bright, “No more teasing, baby. Give us what we both want.”
Harry presses a grinning kiss to the shell of your ear, his hands slipping away from your chest to where his cock grazes your backside. His fingers lightly nudge it as he unbuttons his slacks, a whimper and groan heard upon him pulling himself free from their confines.
“Bend over again for me, flower.” He speaks, tone a little taut. You can’t see his face, but you know he’s speaking with a clenched jaw and gritted teeth in an attempt to remain composed.
Within seconds of your naked torso meeting the cool countertop once more, he’s teasing your cunt with his tip. Dipping it in for a moment before pulling right back out. Over and over again until your fluttering pussy drips even more and you’re close to screaming at him to get on with it. Lovingly, of course.
You can feel him smirking, smug at what he’s doing and how riled up he’s making you. Harry loves to tease, and as much as you tell him otherwise, you love it when he teases you.
But he drops the wind-up act quicker than you anticipated, and as he gives you more than just the tip, you’re crying out in bliss. Harry has pushed forward fast. Filled you balls deep. His hips press against your ass, your cunt hugging his shaft. He cried out at the feeling, too.
“Fuck, you’re so tight.”
You put your arms behind you, hands blindly reaching out for his hips and nails biting when you find them, “And you’re so fucking big. God, H… you feel so good.”
Harry has a firm grip on your own hips, using them as leverage to pull out slowly, and push back in fast, hard, rough. The thrust punches the air from your lungs, a broken moan following. His breaths are all rugged, too. If you could see his face right now, you know that you’d find his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and that gorgeous, sloppy smile that you love so much.
“So wet. So warm.” He mumbles mindlessly, pulling out once more with a groan, his focus felt on where you both meet, “Wish you could see how fucking good we look together.”
You open your mouth to say something back, but you’re stopped with another fast, hard and rough thrust. And then another. And then another.
Harry gives you no chance to speak, or even collect your breath. He just screws you mercilessly, and all you can give him is whimpers. Each quick stroke winds you, his cock hitting that perfect spot just as perfectly every time. He’s so deep. Feels so dreamy.
The slapping sounds of your slick skin and his balls smacking against your ass harmonises with his groans and your whines. You’re close to your climax already thanks to all of the teasing, how turned on you are and the first orgasm you experienced still partly rallying through you. You need another. And you need him to reach his first.
You can tell that he’s close to coming already from the all but animalistic sounds he makes. From the way your name mixed with love confessions and profanities rolls off of his tongue unencumbered. From the way his hands have slackened their hold ever so slightly on your hips.
Swallowing hard and sucking in air, you open your wired-shut eyes and flick them to look over your shoulder, “You’re gonna come, aren’t you?”
Harry, feeling your gaze, meets it, an apologetic expression worn as he nods and slows down his rhythm a fraction, “I’m sorry, darling. You just feel so good, ‘n I’m still a little bit drunk. You know I can never last long after a few too many.”
You giggle, which makes him grin, “‘M still a little drunk, too. ‘S okay, baby. Don’t be sorry and don’t slow down. I love how good I’m making you feel. How my cunt makes you come so quickly. Makes me feel so good.”
Pushing yourself up with your hands, you rest on them. He’s quickened his pace a little again, but you can tell he’s still hesitant to go full tilt. That he doesn’t want to come just yet.
With your neck craned and eyes still on his, you flash him a cheeky smile, “Don’t be scared. Come inside me. Fill me up. Fuck it deep.”
Before you know it, you’re being hugged against his chest, his strong arms wrapped around it. Back flush against his muscled torso. Hands still on the countertop for extra support. His soft lips at your ear; breath and moustache tickling you.
“You’re gonna kill me with that filthy fucking mouth of yours. You know that, right?”
“Good.” You smirk, his choppy breaths fanning down your neck in the most gorgeous way.
He picks up his pace again, fucking up into you. The pair of you standing means he’s hitting even deeper than he was before, your arousal running past his length and down onto your thighs. Your moans louder than ever as his tip taps against your cervix which each delicious thrust.
You grind against him. Clench around him. Your neck twisting a little further to catch a glimpse of him. The sight you find wettening you further of a furrowed brow, slack jaw and blown out eyes struggling to stay open. Harry looks so good. You love his beautiful face all of the time, but in the middle of sex is your favourite version. It’s so natural. So full of bliss.
“C’mon.” You start to urge him again, smirking as devilishly as you feel. As your thoughts. You know just what to say to get what you both want. Need, “Be a good boy and come for Mommy.”
The most spine-tingling whimper follows your dirty words, with Harry fucking you fast and hard until your legs threaten to give out. Until your hands can’t hold onto the countertop anymore and you have to rely solely on his arms hugging you to his body as support. Until your vision turns white as you screw your eyes shut and come hard, which triggers him to do the exact same.
You feel his come filling you up in quick and sharp spurts, his head dropping to the crook of your neck and groans soaking into your sweaty skin. Teeth grazing against it as he hunches up. Lips peppering sloppy kisses to it once he’s given you all he’s got and relaxed, and you’ve given him and done the same.
What feels like hours, but is only really minutes, of you and Harry regaining your breaths and coming back to earth pass by before he’s carefully pulling out, tucking himself away and lifting you from the ground once more. You’re nothing but an exhausted and limp bag of bones, both of you chuckling quietly at the fact as he carries you to the guest bathroom to clean up.
Once inside, Harry offers to help you out, but you tell him you’re good. He sets you down to stand, peppers your face in sleepy, sloppy kisses, tells you he loves you a dozen times, you tell him the same thing back just as many, and then he leaves you to it.
After sorting yourself up, yawning all the way through the post-sex and pre-sleep routine of peeing, washing your hands and face, and brushing your teeth, you leave the bathroom, fully prepared to turn left and head upstairs. That’s where Harry will no doubt now be.
But upon a cupboard closing sound coming from the right, the kitchen, you quickly realise he isn’t. He’s still in that room, and the thought of having to attempt wrangling his tipsy ass out of it again is almost enough to make you cry. You’re more than ready for bed now.
You’re still very much naked, but that doesn’t stop you from storming back into the kitchen like a woman on a mission, ready to scold. It’s got to be coming up for five a.m now. Why Harry has gone back to that room, you don’t know.
The sight of his bare backside stops your footsteps dead, your jaw hitting the floor you’re frozen on. He was fully clothed when he left you in the bathroom, but now his suit has joined your dress; the different shades of green blending with black a heap on the floor.
Your focus drifts from the pile, and also the dropped cake that still needs to be cleaned up, to his peachy behind, the tanned area taut and without blemish. Harry faces away from you, none the wiser to your presence. He’s busying himself with something at the counter.
And what that is becomes apparent when your eyes skim up his muscled back, finding two bows knotted. One around his neat waist. The other around the nape of his neck. He’s wearing a goddamn apron. He’s fucking baking.
As though he could hear your thoughts and wanted to confirm them as fact, Harry turns around with a bright grin on his face, a silver mixing bowl cradled in the crook of his left arm, a wooden spoon in his right hand doing the mixing, and the beige pinny you gifted him one Christmas that reads ‘I’M KNEADY’ in bold, black lettering across it covering his torso.
“Worked up an appetite, so I’ve opened up the bakery.” He winks, voice still a little slurred. Whether that be from the booze, sex or fatigue, you don’t know, but you’re not mad about it, or at him. Not any more. Not ever, actually.
Instead, you grin back, giggle hard and walk toward the other apron hanging up on the peg, yours that reads ‘SOMEBODY KNEADS A HUG’. Harry bought you that the same year you bought him his; one of those moments where you just knew you were soulmates after gifting one another similar gifts without any inclination it would happen whatsoever. A pure coincidence. Or fate, as he would say.
You slip it on over your body, tying the ribbons as you saunter toward him. Harry beams at you, but he doesn’t seem surprised that you’re feeding into his silly antics. You love them. Love him.
Wrapping your arms around his waist, he sets down the mixing bowl and wraps his around yours. He presses a swift and cheeky kiss to the tip of your nose, you press one to his adorable dimple, and then you’re back to grinning at one another; exhaustion no longer felt. How much he loves you, how much you love him, gives you energy. Brings you life.
“What kinda cake are we making?”
A lazy, cocky shrug from him and wicked glint in his gorgeous green eyes, “Whatever kind gets me called a good boy, and for you to dip into Mommy mode again.”
At that you laugh, shaking your head in a dizzy sort of way, and your cheeks flush rosy red. This man… he’s the one that’s going to kill you with his filthy mouth and mind that’s forever in the gutter, not the other way around.
You wouldn’t change a thing about Harry, though. Even when he’s being a drunk pain in the ass. You love every version more than anything else in the world.
You and Harry drive home from celebrating your anniversary, and neither of you can wait until you get back to continue the celebrations (thank you to this anon request for the idea — I hope you enjoy!)
* Today marks one month since I started posting my writing on tumblr :’) Thank you so much for all the love I’ve received in such a short space of time. I appreciate it, and you, so much <3
It’s been a while since I’ve written, so hopefully you all enjoy this! Just wanted to stretch my legs with a mostly filth/no plot one shot hehe *
A dark navy tailored-to-perfection jacket styled with straight-leg suit trousers in the same shade, both garments worth a bob or two. Beneath the blazer, a black t-shirt: ‘I like to watch’ printed across it in bold blue all caps. A skinny belt, loafers and clutch all black. All leather. A hot pink-cased phone sitting on top of the wallet, the pop of colour as cute as it is cool.
As the saying goes, clothes don’t maketh the man, which is true. Pairing the expensive fit with chocolate-coloured locks that were recently cropped into a mini mullet, scruffy yet still well groomed facial hair and a small silver hoop earring means you’ve got a pretty compelling case on your hands, though. Harry is looking finer than ever; a feat you didn’t think possible.
The pair of you have not long left Blacklock, a suave Soho restaurant that saw you both drink a bottle of 1964 Chateau Haute and devour a slap up three-course meal. Before the delicious dinner, the grand tier box at the Royal Opera House was where you were cosied up, watching beautiful ballet hand-in-hand with the occasional kiss and love confession shared.
Your one-year relationship anniversary was of course a call for celebration, all of it organised by Harry. He loves to spoil you, and spoil you he has done. You are one lucky lady, and you’ve been sure to tell him so countless times tonight as well as over the last twelve months together.
When it came to leaving the esteemed eatery, he paid the bill and you left through the back exit to avoid the swarm of paps that were circling the front. Someone had obviously tipped them off that the one and only Harry Styles was inside, so they appeared; swarming like sharks for a snap of your sweetheart.
He’s protective of you and your relationship, which you very much appreciate and agreed with, so action was quickly taken. Harry didn’t hesitate to call Dave, his driver, telling him to head to the alley to collect you first rather than the street to pick you both up. He’d hang back a few seconds, and then head out the front. Avoiding the paparazzi and leaving the same way you did would have been the preferred exit, but it might have caused them to move to the alley behind the restaurant if they caught wind of him departing that route. You’d have been spotted; something neither of you want.
After parting ways with a chaste kiss, you were guided by the kind hostess through the fire exit where the black Mercedes waited, cream leather seats and a rear view mirror smile from Dave greeting you before he drove to the front of the building. You could see camera flashes ricocheting all around before you even turned the corner, the money-shot of your man being captured over and over again at a dizzying rate.
Harry isn’t the only one that feels protective. The emotion was very much alive within you too, anger and nausea swirling in your stomach witnessing that, like it always does whenever it happens. You hate that his life is of so much interest to everybody and anybody when, quite frankly, it’s no one else’s fucking business.
But you get it, even if it does upset you on his behalf. You knew what you signed up for getting involved with him. This is the price to pay for fame and fortune, and luckily, Harry has loved ones and a therapist to turn to when the toll of it gets too much.
He also has you, of course. Together, you’re able to weather the occasional invasive shit storm. You’ve done a grand job of it thus far, and the love you have for one another means any future problems don’t stand a chance. You’re solid. You’re soulmates.
Dave had pulled up a few feet ahead of where the paps had gathered, something else Harry told him to do. It would keep you out of potentially being spotted by people when the passenger door opened up. The world has a vague idea of your relationship, but no one knows the details regarding it or who you are, and the plan is to keep it that way for as long as possible.
You sat in the car alone for a few seconds, Dave out of it to grab the door for Harry. The breath you didn’t realise you were holding released upon your boyfriend sliding into it and onto the seat beside you, your body relaxing when the sweet smell of him filled up the luxury vehicle. The tender touch of his hand found yours. The gorgeous grin he’s forever wearing in your presence was sent your way.
“Hey, baby. Sorry about that.”
The door slammed closed, Dave’s doing. He was in the driver’s seat mere moments later, the gentle sound of the engine that had been idling when parked roaring to life as he sped off, leaving the leeches in his dust. He put up the partition, giving the pair of you some privacy. Another thing Harry kindly asked him to do when on the phone in the restaurant.
You squeezed his hand, fingers laced together, and sent him a sympathetic smile, “Nothing to be sorry about, H. I’m the one that’s sorry that someone tipped off the paps, though. Sneaky shits. I thought we were incognito tucked away at the back of the restaurant.”
He chuckled then, leaning toward you. Red wine-scented breath tickling your nostrils. Red wine-stained lips brushing yours. Both things made you shudder. Both things made you squirm.
Harry ran his nose along the length of yours, breathing you in, “You ‘n me both. We’ve got all the privacy now, though…”
You kissed him, too overwhelmed with love and lust to not. Your needy energy was instantly met, your glossy mouth against his soft one quick to move manically after pressing a tentative peck. Lips wrapping around and sucking on each other’s. Tongue’s knotting. Teeth clashing. Stupidly expensive liquor on you both all that could be tasted. Sweet euphoric moans from you both all that could be heard.
The embrace separated too soon for your liking, Harry the one to break it off. You whined, breathless, with two heart beats in your body. You tried to suppress the one between your legs by squeezing them together, but to no avail. No discretion, either.
He looked down at your thighs for a split second, mouth a little covered in your lip gloss curling into a smirk as he met your eyes again. The dimples you love so much popped, both on full display despite the thicker-than-usual facial hair he sports that you already missed softly scratching your skin.
“You okay there?”
“No.” You quipped back quickly, which made you giggle and him breathily laugh at your blunt honesty, “How much longer ‘til we’re home?”
“At least twenty minutes. Want me to tell Dave to speed up a bit?”
“No, no.” You shook your head fast, even though a certain heartbeat of yours was screaming otherwise, “I can wait.”
“You might be able to, but I’m not so sure I can.” Harry told you, tone teasing, fingers unlinking to lightly stroke the pads of his along your jawline.
The dark car didn’t dim the wicked glint in his pretty eyes that you saw were more onyx than sea-glass green. You shuddered again. Throbbed some more. How could you not when in the presence, from the feeling, of such a beautiful man, the world’s most beautiful, who just so happened to be all yours?
You went in for another kiss, but a firm grip on your chin by his fingers and thumb stopped you. A pout formed on your lips, which Harry tauntingly tutted at. Smugly smirked at.
“Thought you could wait?”
“Thought you couldn’t?”
He grinned, thumb teasing your bottom lip. Pulling it down, your teeth bared to him while you watched him calculate next steps. Letting it go, it sprung back into place; a conclusion come to.
“I said I wasn’t so sure.”
“So be sure.”
His eyes widened then, your sass surprising him. He ran the tip of his tongue along the inside of his cheek, raised brow and deliciously dangerous expression seen via the passing street lights shining through the tinted windows.
“Well, what I am sure of is that this pretty mouth of yours is destined for a good fucking if you keep running it off. Anniversary or not, I’ll happily ruin it so you can’t speak for days without the reminder of where it’s been. What’s happened to it.”
That pulled a gulp from you, your confidence drifting. Your curiosity increasing, “Is that so?”
“Mhm. Feel free to try me if you’re in doubt, baby.”
As much as you really wanted to, you didn’t. You knew fine well what Harry was capable of having experienced a fraction of it in this context before. While you loved it then, and you’d love it now, your busy work week ahead meant you were very much in need of a pain-free throat and the ability to talk.
He took your silence as victory, his whole aura smug which only turned you on more. You know that that’s exactly what Harry was trying to cause you to feel. Arousal. Teased. You could tell by his shit-eating grin.
You recalibrated as best as you could, an eyebrow quirked, “So we’re waiting until we’re back home?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Confusion from you, as well as a little frustration. The sexual kind, of course, “Then what are you saying?”
“That I’m undecided.” He told you, unphased. Cocky.
“On what?”
“On whether I wanna wait to taste your sweet cunt, or fuck it.”
And with that, you stopped breathing. His deep drawl of a voice dripping in desire had made you malfunction. You had no idea what to say back. You still don’t.
You, instead, opted to roam your sights all over your man. Harry let you, smiling arrogantly as you undressed him with your eyes. As you fell for him more with every beautiful inch you drank in.
Your influence is written all over him. The suit he wears one you picked out during a shopping trip last week. The shirt on his god-like torso a cheeky gift from you based on Harry liking to do exactly what the slogan on it says. Watch. The mini mullet he sports something you said he’d really suit, so off he went to get it cut and styled that way. The facial hair you’ve always adored on him thicker than ever, simply because you adore it. Adore him. The silver hoop hugging his lobe a suggestion made by you that it would tie his new do and incredible fit altogether, which you were right about. It looks hot. He looks hot. A thirty-year-old has never looked so fucking good.
It’s not a control thing by any means. You simply make comments, and Harry listens. He lives and loves to make you happy.
You live and love to do the same for him, too. Like, for example, wearing a little black dress for him tonight because you know he likes how you look in one. The only thing you look better in, according to him, is nothing at all. Or his old t-shirts. He loves you in those.
Now that you’re back to locking your gaze with his, you feel tipsier than ever. The booze downed tonight is long gone. You’re love drunk on Harry. Always have been. Always will be.
It’s the reason why you come back to life. Heart restarting, even though it beats alarmingly fast. Breaths resuming, albeit they’re choppy. Mouth opens, out tumbling from it the quiet words “Fuck it. Fuck me.”
Your pleading tone and request makes him groan, grin broadening as he tips his chin your way, “Ask nicely.”
“Please.” You throw out, no qualms about giving him what he wants. What you want, “Need you so bad. Always need you so bad.”
Harry, satisfied, doesn’t hesitate to move his wallet and phone from his lap, storing it in the door’s compartment. You focus on his large hands, the cross tattoo and prominent veins driving you wild. His fingers are free from rings and painted nails, but my god are they still stunning. Still capable of causing so much dirty damage.
They fumble with the small silver buckle on his belt, moving onto the button and zip of his slacks once undone. Your breaths have picked up in pace, the car growing warmer with want. You’re close to salivating, so ready to see the gorgeous goods that you just know will be as thick and hard as yours are pulsing and wet.
He pulls himself free from the confines of his briefs and trousers, a low groan rattling in his chest while a desperate whimper slips through your lips. You can sense Harry smirking, but you don’t look at his mouth. Your attention is on his right hand giving his lush length slow strokes. A small squeeze. The pretty pink tip and the bead of milky white precum spilling from it.
“You see what you do to me, baby?” His voice pulls your eyes from his big cock to his own, the lazy smile you knew he’d be wearing shining at you, “Got me rock solid and dripping, fucking my fist in the back of our car.”
Words escape you once more, the situation you’re in so overwhelming in the best possible way. You’ve both fucked plenty of times and in plenty of different places, including Harry’s canary yellow Ferrari Dino, but never like this. Never with poor Dave only a few feet away.
You know he can’t hear a thing unless the button to the intercom is pressed. The partition is sound proof, and he’ll also have the radio on. Privacy does exist right now, even if it is of the precarious kind and has a time limit.
Harry picks up his hand’s pace, face contorting with the pleasure he gives himself. He’s still smirking smugly, eyes on yours even with his head tipped back against the seat; a lust-filled look given through his long lashes.
It makes you move, desperation taking over, your hands quickly going under the skirt of your dress to pull your black lace thong down and off your body. It falls to the footwell forgotten about. Your dress hitched up onto your hips baring your ass and cunt. The latter drenched and fluttering around nothing. For now.
You’re across his lap in seconds, straddling his toned thighs. Harry stopped stroking himself to help you, his hands on your hips as yours laced through the back of his soft hair. The pair of you laughed at you lightly knocking your head against the roof as you got into position, but the sound has now faded out into rugged breaths. Hearts beating harder. Everything else – the world – on mute. It’s just you two. It always is.
His hands cup you face now, soft palms cradling your jaw and thumbs stroking the apples of your cheeks. His smile as bright as yours.
“Have I ever told you just how madly in love with you I am?”
“Only every day since the first time those three little words slipped out of these pretty lips in a sleepy slur.” You hum, tapping his plump mouth with the tip of your index finger, a kiss from him pressed to the pad, “Doesn’t hurt for me to hear it again, though.”
“Well, in that case…” He hums, guiding your face closer to his that’s still angled up, his wine-scented breath dancing across your skin, “I’m madly in love with you. Like, to an almost worrying, concerning extent.”
You giggle and blush, “Ditto, Daddy.”
Upon the use of that nickname, the sweet moment is over. It’s all sex again. Harry’s grin shifts into another smug expression, his cock sandwiched between his muscled stomach and your tingling cunt throbbing. Begging to be buried inside of you.
“Was wondering how long it would take for you to call me that.”
You nudge your nose against his, smiling lips ghosting his smirking pair, “Thought I’d tarnish the mushy moment with a bit of filth. Bring us back to the very important task at hand since we don’t have much time.”
“And that’s reason one-million and one why I love you so much.”
Within seconds, and with a helping of saliva spat from his mouth down onto and worked along his cock, he’s teasing your clit with a few taps of his thick tip before filling you to the hilt. Stretching you out to perfection. The lewd moan he knew you’d make was something he caught, his mouth on yours in a feverish kiss keeping you quiet. Tongue dominant and lips delicious.
He nips at your bottom one now, pulling the fleshy area back with his teeth before letting go and following it up with a little lick. The sting there works in tandem with the one felt between your legs, his impressive size something you still find yourself needing to adjust to even after all this time and when dripping wet, especially without foreplay.
But you don’t mind. You love the slight discomfort. Love feeling so full of him. Love him. Harry always takes care of you. He’s aware that he’s the biggest you’ve ever been with, so he lets you dictate the pace until you say otherwise. Making sure you’re comfortable is of so much importance to him.
“You okay, baby?” He asks, voice breathy.
A nod from you, the faint pain subsiding into total pleasure. You want more of it. More of him.
“‘M okay.” You tell him truthfully, clearing your throat while trying to unblur your blurry vision with a few blinks, “Feeling good.”
“Yeah?” He asks, the question rhetorical. The four letter word spoken so airly arouses you further, much like his lips now on your neck do the same, “Wanna feel better than just good?”
Now that one wasn’t rhetorical, so you nod. Fast. Desperate, “Yes, Daddy. Please.”
“Be a good girl and fuck me, then.” He mumbles against you, a whine from you causing a grin from him as he marks you up with his mouth, “Ride my cock, ‘n then I’ll ruin your pretty cunt.”
You start to grind your hips, fingers laced through his locks used as leverage, a guttural groan from Harry soaking into your starting-to-sweat skin at the feeling of both things. Your head grows foggy thanks to his thick tip nudging against your sweet spot. A lazy smile stretches your lips. Eyes fluttering as sparks of what feels like pure sunlight and happiness ripples through every nerve.
But a tut from Harry earns your full attention. His lips no longer on your body point another cunning smile your way. One that makes you clench. One that, if you look at it for too long, could easily make you come.
“That’s the best you can do? I told you to fuck me. So fuck me.”
His disappointed taunt, something that you’re very aware he’s playing up for the sake of pleasure, adds fuel to the flames you feel. It turns you on to be talked down to like that. Harry knows it, therefore Harry does it.
You do as you’re told, his breaths turning staggered as you fuck him how he wanted, bouncing up and down as fast and as best you can in the confined-ish space.
He grins lazily and nods dazedly, “That’s it, baby, keep going. Doing so good.”
His encouragement spurs you on, more sentiments spoken that only add to that. Perfect pussy. You were made for me. You fucking own me. God, you’re taking me so well. Can you feel me in your belly?
You hummed and nodded along, encouraged and ecstatic. Harry grinned at you proudly, face growing more flushed. Need for you growing more frantic.
“Put your hands behind your back for me, yeah?” He asks you suddenly.
Again, you do as you’re told. Harry’s palms leave your hips, his right wrapping around and gripping a hold of both your wrists, pinning them at the base of your spine in a vice-like way. You love the firmness. The dominance.
His grip doesn’t hinder your ability to ride him, but the way he looks at you almost does. The vicious hunger alive within his eyes that flit between your fucked-out face and jiggling tits close to spilling out the top of your strapless dress is very distracting. But then again, Harry could simply do nothing at all and you’d still find yourself unfocused, too swept up in his beauty to pay attention to a goddamn thing.
And at the sight of him now wrapping his smirking lips around your left nipple, sucking it into his mouth with the perfect amount of pressure after yanking your bodice down, the struggle to keep your pace increases. You’re lost to the bliss his mouth and cock gives you. His tongue teases and teeth tweaks the sensitive spot. Every ridge of his length strokes your cunt that hugs it tightly.
Your thighs are burning from the workout. Knees sore from rubbing against the leather. The ability to breathe difficult from the soaring temperature and toe-curling sex. All of the sounds that leave your mouth harmonise with your ass hitting against his muscled thighs and the slickness emanating between yours; your cunt covering his cock with an obscene amount of arousal.
You don’t have much of this left in you, but what you feel right now is pretty sensational. Not as good as if Harry was doing all the work like he almost always does, but amazing enough that the bubble building in your belly is close to bursting.
Your head tips back, Harry giving you all of a millisecond to keep it there before he’s pulling it down, his free hand smushing your lips together and blackened eyes burning into your own. A thin sheen of sweat coats his skin, much like it does yours. His hair a damp mess over his forehead. Hoop earring glinting in the dim light. Lips curled into another one of those cocky grins you love so damn much.
“Trying to look away from me, huh?”
You shake your head, or shake it as best as you can. He’s holding your face as fiercely as he holds your wrists. You love it, though.
A quick, sharp slap to your cheek has your head snapping to the left, your hips slowing to a stop, eyes flying open and cunt clenching around him. You whine and writhe. He groans and grins, gripping your chin again.
“Words. Or are you too cock dumb to speak?”
Another question asked, one you know he knows the answer to. He’s just being consensually cruel. Harry likes that he’s got you tongue-tied. He also likes to mercilessly fuck you when you don’t give him what he wants.
And you like that he’s got you tongue-tied. You also like that he mercilessly fucks you when you don’t give him what he wants. The sex ends up more amazing than it already was.
So you give a moaned mewl instead of speech, and before you know it, you’re no longer on top of him. Your back meets the leather seat your ass once sat on, and Harry is driving his cock into your cunt from a kneeled position between your bent up-and-back legs, his hands gripping the ledge of the window while yours tug on his hair and the collar of his suit jacket.
Your focus readjusted upon the change, and now you stare up at him in wide-eyed wonder. How he’s managed to manoeuvre you both so effortlessly, you don’t know, but then again, Harry has an uncanny ability to defy opposing forces when it comes to fucking you. This isn’t really all that surprising, actually.
He simply smirks, admiring your Bambi expression like he always does whenever it appears. Tears brim in your waterline. Every inch of you tingles.
“Why you crying, baby? Am I fucking you that good?”
Harry’s sneer and smirk makes you clench around his cock that drills you within an inch of your life. Yes, he is fucking you that good. And he knows it. The thick girth of him stretches you out further. The beyond average length kisses your cervix with each powerful thrust he gives.
You whine again, vision blurring with fresh tears while the previously rolled down hot ones stain your cheeks. You can’t articulate a verbal response. A pathetic whimper will have to do.
But that’s still not good enough for Harry. He gets off on your words as much as he does your moans and groans. Your pussy and ass. Your body and soul.
He was already giving it to you hard, fast, rough, but now he ups the ante. Something you didn’t think possible, yet here you are: being screwed so incredibly your eyes roll into the back of your head that lightly thumps against the door with each thrust, and any breaths you were able to make now halted.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You manage to say, words now being fucked out of you with moans punctuating each panted-out profanity, “Please don’t stop. God, this feels so good!”
“There’s that pretty voice. Missed it. Don’t go quiet on me again, okay?”
A hard swallow and fast nod from you, “Okay, Daddy. I’ll try, I promise.”
Harry groans louder, his eyes honed in on your bouncing tits. Tongue lapping at his bottom lip.
“So fucking pretty.” He hums before jerking his chin your way, “Play with them.”
“Spit on them first, please.”
Harry does as he’s asked after giving your request a whimpered response, a couple globs of saliva spat out onto your chest. You now give him what he wanted, feeling yourself up by rubbing the moisturise all over the fleshy mounds. Pushing them together. Teasing your nipples with light pinches that make you squirm.
“God, they’re perfect. You’re perfect.” Harry murmurs, sounding as blissed out as you know he’s feeling. As you’re also feeling, “M so close.”
“Me too.” You tell him honestly, slipping one hand down to your clit. Fast and firm circles stroked to the swollen bud, just a little more pleasure needed to get you off.
The sensation there makes your back arch and hips buck. You’re tensing up, orgasm looming. One you know that’s guaranteed to send your mind to outer space because Harry’s fucking you so good.
Swallowing hard and sucking in air, you give him a smirk, “You gonna give me your come, Daddy? Gonna fuck it into me?”
A growl from Harry along with a nod, “Mhm. Don’t want you forgetting who owns you. Whose pussy this belongs to.”
“It’s all yours. I’m all yours. Always.”
You neglect your chest to grab the back of his neck, fingers tickled by the damp hair at the nape. He’s hot to the touch. Hot to look at. It makes you grin and giggle, both things delirious, which earns you a smirk.
“I know.” He purrs, hips still going hell for leather and cock somehow reaching new depths inside you, “I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you, too. Love you so much, baby.”
“Love you more.”
Within seconds, you’re coming hard. You shudder and shake. Soak his cock. Suppress the scream that wants to leave you by biting your lip so hard, you draw blood. The pleasurable pain there combined with the euphoria that courses through you is incredible. Just like watching Harry experience his own high is.
It may be dark, and the car may now be bumpy as it goes over pebbled terrain that you know to be the driveway in front of your home, but that doesn’t stop you from fully appreciating his orgasm in all its glory. Carved-by-angels face screwing up then going slack. Breathtaking smile as dopey as yours. Perfect cock quivering as he releases rope after rope of his hot load, painting your walls and filling you up as requested. Muscled body flopping on top of your soft one once he’s as spent as you are, feeling weightless thanks to how floaty you feel. Sweet nothings murmured into your sticky neck more akin to poetry. Kisses made up of all the love he has for you closing off each sentence like a full stop.
The car halts and the engine cuts. Both things light a fire under Harry’s ass, the post-orgasmic bliss coming to an abrupt end. He sits up faster than you know he’d like, than you’d like, his finger blindly finding the intercom button.
“Hey, Dave.” He starts, clearing his croaky voice in an attempt to not sound like he’s just been having sex, “You’re good to head off. I’ll get the door. Thank you for all your work today.”
If Dave is wise to what’s been going on behind his back, his tone doesn’t reflect it, “No problem, Mr. Styles. Enjoy the rest of your evening. And happy anniversary to you both.”
“Thank you.” You and Harry both reply at the same time, giggling for not only being in sync, but for what you’ve just been up to. Poor Dave.
The driver door opens and closes, footsteps on the gravel ground fading out. Another engine starts, Dave’s car, followed by wheels that crunch that transition into silence a few seconds later.
Another laugh from you, Harry’s face that had fallen back into the crook of your next post-instruction to Dave and giggling episode now pulling up to show off a gleaming grin, “Something funny, baby?”
“You’d better up his salary. He doesn’t get paid anywhere near as much as he should for having to put up with us.”
He chuckles and nods, “Noted. I’ll throw in a holiday for him and his wife, too.”
“You’re a good man, Styles.”
“The best, thanks to you.” He winks, a kiss pressed to your lips that makes you sigh, melt and chase his smiling lips for more when he pulls back, “I really am sorry about earlier. With the paps.”
“And I really meant it when you said you have nothing to be sorry about.”
Harry’s expression grows both bashful and stern, a juxtaposition that’s as arousing as it is adorable, “‘M just so protective of you. Of us. Don’t want anything to ruin it, y’know?”
“I know, my love. Nothing will, I promise.” You hum, “I love you too much.”
He smiles now, all worry and guilt dissipated, “I love you too much, too. Happy Anniversary.”
“Happy Anniversary. To many more together.” You coo, hands running through his hair and heart close to bursting with all the love you give out to him. Receive from him, too.
Harry grins, nods and kisses you hard, “A lifetime of them.”
