Hello my freaky deaky queen!! I have an idea for youu!!! Harry using the cord to his microphone during rehearsals to keep you still during a quickie with lots of focus on his hands because well I’m a hand girlie and he has nice ones😂 anyway if you hate it that’s fine I still loveeee youuu!!!💖
girl if you think i'm gonna turn down Harry bondage, then you don't know me. thank you both for the requests! (also this sucks i'm so sorry)
All the Time - A Harry Styles Smutty Blurb
Summary: Harry invited you to his rehearsal and keeps getting distracted when you won't stay still (alternative title Fingers All the Time, Orgasms Occasionally)
2.3k
C/W: smut, bondage (mic cord), fingering (f!receiving), one (1) spank, slight daddy-kink, finger sucking, accidental recording
“Go on ahead,” Harry calls out to his bandmates, “we’ll catch up.”
Rehearsals had dragged on far longer than they expected, to the point Harry’s voice wavered, Mitch kept messing up his strumming, and Sarah’s drumming had grown lethargic and offbeat. The music was no longer lively and Harry could feel the hungry tension building in the room, so he dismissed everyone for lunch, allowing them an hour to recharge and rejuvenate.
But he wasn’t planning on joining them.
“What do you want to have for lunch?” you ask from behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. Harry had invited you along for his rehearsal of the new album, gearing up for his One Night Only performance, something he was excited to share with you at first. Except he hadn’t expected you to be so… distracting. Throughout the day, he watched you dancing along to his music, grooving to the beat with miss-timed yet boisterous moves, capturing his attention. It was the exact reaction he wanted from the album, to have the music move people physically, not just emotionally, but it was another to watch the woman he loved, dancing around the room with a proud gleam in her eyes. Your shirt rose up when you raised your arms, revealing your soft belly that he loved to caress when you rode him, and the bell bottom pants you wore clung nicely to the curves of your body, enticingly reminding Harry of the flesh underneath your clothes and how it would jiggle. Slyly, he’d adjust himself between songs, taking the time while everyone was distracted to lessen the ache of his thickening cock in his pants.
Harry only partially hears your rambling about possible options for lunch, entirely too focused on making sure everyone has left. As soon as the door clicks shut behind the last straggler, he’s spinning in your hold, tilting your head to look up at him. “I want you.”
Your first reaction is to giggle, assuming he’s just being cute, but when his hand slips from underneath your chin, to the back of your head, twisting your hair in his grip, your laughter stops, coming to a quick halt with a sharp inhale. Tugging your head back, his lips rush to the curve of your throat, kissing down in a line before licking back up, his mustache leaving ticklish tingles along the path.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he whispers darkly as his free hand drags through your spit covered neck, smearing his saliva. “Watching you shake your ass, your tits bouncing around, and I can’t do a bloody thing about it?” His teeth nip at your jaw, taking a moment to deeply inhale your skin. “Distracting me all damn day with this gorgeous fucking body.” Biting on your ear lobe, smirking at the yelp you emit, his hands roam over your body, sliding down your back and cupping your ass.
As Harry sucks on your neck, nibbling and salivating over your pulse, your own hand twitches to life, reaching for his jeans. Your fingers have just brushed against where his cock bulges but Harry shifts his hips away. With a whine, you blindly stretch your hand again, trying to find him.
“Knock it off!” he growls when you skim along his crotch. Yet, you greedily run your hand down from his abs, tracing the line of buttons on his shirt, slipping over his belt, towards his shaft when his hand smacks against your ass. “Stop it!”
“I want… I want to feel you!” you stammer, still straining to reach him.
Harry pushes you away, grabbing both your wrists in one of his hands, easily holding them above your head. “Keep still!” he orders, his eyes darkening with agitation. Despite his warning, your body wriggles closer, struggling within his hold. If he took a step closer, you could thrust your hips forward and meet his. “That's it!” He forces you backward, leaning you back over the soundboard. Buttons and knobs impale into your back, laying unevenly on the recording equipment, but Harry holds your arms down above your head, his groin pressed into your leg, keeping you pinned beneath him. With his free hand, he grabs one of the microphones he's been crooning into all day, his lips pressed into the metal. Gathering your hands in front of you, Harry coils the cord around your arms, looping the microphone through the wire until he rests it between your bound hands. “That should keep your hands busy.”
You struggle against your restraints, trying to peel your arms apart. “Harry!” you whine, desperate to touch him, needy for the heat of his dick in your palm, craving the weight of him in your grasp. Wriggling back and forth, you seek any comfort atop the console, but each time you shift, the dial digging into your spine would lessen but the switch at your shoulder blade would press harsher. Your toes barely scrape the ground, leaving your feet dangling over the side of the soundboard, Harry's thighs keeping you up, just on the precipice of falling over.
“Shh,” he quiets you, petting your hair to soothe you. “You'll be taken care of, pretty girl. Don't worry.” When your mouth opens to complain again, Harry slips his fingers in before you can get a single sound out. Your eyes widen at the intrusion before fluttering close, suddenly pacified by the stroke of his long finger. The nail scratches at the inside of your cheek, roaming over the bumps in your teeth, dragging through the saliva on your tongue before pulling it out and sucking on his own finger, moaning around the taste of your spit.
Undoing the button on your pants, Harry's wet finger delves underneath your underwear. The trail of icy wetness leaves an echo of his touch as he nears your cunt, your lips twitching with desire. When his slippery digit brushes against your clit, your body recoils at the cool touch, your knee jerks up, flinching away with nowhere to hide.
“I know, pretty girl,” he coos as you whimper, flicking his finger across your nub, “I know, I'll make it all better.” His finger warms between your thighs, his movement speeding up, combining both your spit and your arousal. Your leg kicks up again, your heel catching on the edge of the device, opening yourself up more to him. “That's it, pretty. Let it out.”
“Oh, God, Harry!” you moan, gasping when the microphone falls onto your chest, the metal cool against your collarbone. “Please, I w-want your cock, please Harry!”
“Are my fingers not enough, pretty girl?” At that, he lowers his finger, dipping into you, curling his finger further up inside until he tickles at your sensitive spot, then pulling it away, testing you.
Your body clenches then relaxes, whining miserably at his teasing. “No-no, please Harry, wanna make you feel go-od too,” you plead, your voice pitching when he thrusts his finger in again. He reaches far enough to just casually brush over the same area, your fingers rolling tighter around the microphone, wishing you were holding something else. When he presses forth another time, he’s careful to only press so far, missing where you ache for him most, toying with your pleasure like a cat with its prey. “Harry, plea-”
“No.”
His dismissal is shocking, usually he’s compliant to your wishes, especially when your voice is breathy and you're spread open beneath him. Still confined by the microphone cord, you can't do much to fight back. “B-but I-”
“Shush now,” he says as he leans over you, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips, “or I'll bind your feet next.” Before you could complain, he's shoving his fingers deep into your pussy, pressing as deep as he can. When your mouth drops open as he massages your soft walls, his other hand clasps around your jaw, his fingers dipping into your mouth, pulsing into you on both ends. His fingers work you like a salve, softening your high-pitched whines into deep moans, your wide eyed stare drooping into a lustful, hooded gaze. “There you go, pretty. Just needed something to suck on, huh? I got you, pretty girl. Daddy always takes care of you, doesn't he?”
Sucking on his left hand, grinding on his right, you hum around his fingers, rocking yourself back and forth between them. The soundboard beneath you still pokes at your back, but as you circle your hips, your constant movement makes it difficult for one spot to bother you for too long, shifting around the console restlessly as you chase after your pleasure despite the irritating pain prodding into you.
“Yes, that's my pretty girl. If you're good, I'll let you have Daddy's cock later. Is that what you want?”
Your humming crescendos up into a long drawn out moan as he presses another finger inside of you, increasing the pressure on your walls. Clamping around him, your clit drags over the heel of his palm, adding on to the mounting pleasure coiling in your belly. Biting at his fingers, you try to signal your approaching orgasm.
“Oh, I know, I can feel it. Can feel you getting closer, can feel you getting wetter.” Slipping out of you, he smacks his soaked fingers against your pussy, smirking at the sound of the obscenely wet slaps. Then he thrusts back into you, slowing down his rhythm. “But we've got 40 minutes before anyone comes back and I wanna see how long you can go for. Can you do that for me, pretty girl? Can you show Daddy what a good girl you are?”
The torture of his slow pace is driving you insane. Dragging this out longer sounded awful, it was sadistic, it was… kind of hot? You've reached the point where anything he offered sounded like a fair trade so long as you reached your orgasm. Ignoring the burn of your arms, the muscles sore from being bound still for so long, despite your sore back, you nod, willing to take whatever he will give you.
Above you, Harry's eyes sparkle with mischief, his smirk deepening. “Knew you would.” Then, he removes his fingers from you, making you feel suddenly empty without him filling up one of your holes. Pulling on your arms, he lifts you up until you're standing on your feet, making sure you're steady before dropping to his knees, tugging your pants down, along with your ruined underwear. It's a bit of a struggle to get them off around your shoes, so Harry has to lift up the wide hem and untie the laces before he can fully remove your clothes. “Finally,” he jests, his playful gaze melting into adoration at your pussy, shiny with arousal. “God… Oh, pretty girl…” Already, his fingers are pruned, wrinkled with your arousal, but he dips them back in, edging in a third finger.
“Oh, oh fuck, oh Jesus,” you ramble, falling back until your ass hits the console. “Oh yeah, oh fuck, Harry!” Sweat starts to coat the wire as you thrash your arms around, twisting them back and forth. The microphone clatters against your neck, the metal bitingly chilly on your skin, goosebumps rising where it hits.
“Prettiest pussy I've ever seen. So pretty, so wet,” he compliments, driving his fingers into you. His left hand presses against your pelvis, his thumb caressing your clit, making your legs shake on either side of him. “Are you gonna come for me? Wanna feel you on my fingers. Can you do that for me, pretty girl?”
Building up, your release is imminent, it’d topple out of you even if Harry were to stop again. His fingers stretch you open, his thumb plays with your clit, you cannot stop your body from shivering. Cresting over you, you surge forward as your orgasm shutters through you, your tied up arms collapsing down in front of you, the microphone slipping from your grasp, hanging between your quivering legs.
Harry groans, his teeth biting into his lower lip as you clench, your muscles tightening around his fingers before relaxing, easing into post-orgasmic bliss. “That’s my girl.” Keeping his fingers inside you, he feels the flutter of your warm muscles as you come down from your high. Pressing his lips to your thighs, his hair tickles at your crotch before he's moving his fingers again, gently opening you up again despite your protesting whines. “You're alright, we've got time, just let me enjoy you.”
People slowly start to trickle back from lunch, spirits lifted and hunger satiated. Harry had tucked you in the backroom, letting you rest after he worked you through five arduous orgasms, taking his time between each one. Now, he was massaging his hand, hoping he'd still be able to strum a guitar later.
“Did you record something while we were gone?” Kid asks, looking at the tracks they've recorded for the day, a new 30-minute long file at the top. When he clicks on it, his laptop plays some clatter, before a voice cuts in.
“Oh yeah, oh fuck, Harry!”
Harry immediately perks up at the sound of your voice, pitched and warbled with effects but still, distinctly, your voice. Swiftly, he marches over to the laptop, slamming the screen down but the track keeps playing, his dirty talk muffled but still loud enough to hear. So, Harry forces the laptop back open, furiously clicking the pause button, then he closes the laptop shut again, heaving out a breath.
Titters ripple amongst his bandmates, faces flushed red, but Kid is the only one who seems unsurprised.
“You want me to delete it?” he asks deadpanned, slowly opening the laptop, already hovering his finger over the DEL key.
Leaning down towards his friend, Harry looks around before whispering “Send it to me first.”
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