Summary: Prompted by her sister’s newfound income, y/n becomes a housekeeper for a wealthy man uptown. Much to her surprise, he is young, cunning, and flirtatious. Unbeknownst to her, he has his fair share of secrets.
Trigger warnings: slow burn, sexual tension, age gap, slight corruption, broken households, mentions of abuse, drugs, alcohol, potentially triggering stereotypes, guns/shootings, sex (oral/p in v), smut, dominance, degradation, cheating as well as other fucked up stuff, and inevitable grammar errors. The parts marked with * contain smut.
Pairing: older!ceo!Harry Styles x housekeeper!reader
Introduction
[Part 1] wc: 3.3k
⤷ Y/N gets the chance to explore Harry’s mansion for the first time.
[Part 2]* wc: 5.1k
⤷ Y/N’s first week working as Harry’s maid ends with Netflix and a slip of the tongue.
[Part 3]* wc: 5.6k
⤷ Harry decides to reward Y/N for her hard work with extra compensation, but things don’t always go to plan. Their wine and dine turns into Netflix and chill, and before they know it, their relationship changes forever… in more than one way.
[Part 4]* wc: 2k
⤷ I’m not one to spoil a perfectly good surprise, but I have two words. Niall and revenge.
previous part // next part // series masterlist // my masterlist
tw: SLOWWW BURN (it picks up soon I promise), sex (in different parts), sexual tension, age gap, allusion to smut, potentially triggering dream scenarios, and other sensitive topics such as decapitated chicken snow globes (you heard it here first). that said, enjoy!!
wc: 5.1k
Your visit with Harry left adrenaline coursing through your veins. Your heart was pumping blood through your body three times faster than usual to support the overtime your brain was working. Your focus was hardly set on the road, or the speed limit, but rather on the green-eyed, broad-statured man with the gleaming mansion uptown.
A cloak of obsession veiled your mind, and a mound of heat was positioned permanently between your legs, intensifying every time you recalled the dream you’d experienced as you snoozed involuntarily on Harry’s sofa. Your feral mind raced as your thoughts strayed to the glimpse of his bedroom you’d caught. It was some sort of unsaid truth that there had been many gorgeous girls in his bed and a meek, meager section of your mind couldn’t help but wish you could one day be among them. For now, though, you were a lowly housekeeper, but that was better than nothing.
You made it home much more quickly than you’d arrived. Letting yourself into your dingy apartment, you were filled with a mild sense of disappointment. After experiencing Harry’s grand mansion, your abode felt like a sewer. Still, though, it was home. It housed your possessions and maintained a steady temperature, which was all one really needed. The first thing you did after you set down your bags was call your sister. You had a lot of steam to blow off after your excursion.
Your phone vibrated as you willed your sister to answer. Much to your relief, she answered on the last ring, anxious to hear about your new job. You were talking a mile a minute before she was able to get more than a cheery hello in.
You told her about the mansion, and how pristine the neighborhood was. His kitchen, garage, flower garden, and secret room all made their way into your conversation. You spoke in vivid, ecstatic detail about his living room, his bookshelf, his floors, and his hair. You only left out the minor parts where you had had a wet dream on his couch and disobeyed him by entering his bedroom. Nataly listened intently to every detail until, at last, you stopped to take a breath.
“His suit was so crisp and proper-looking and his hair, Nat. If only you could see his hair!”
“Wow,” she breathed. “I told you it would be a good job to take.”
“He’s so hot,” you whined, “and he pays me so well! I’m so incredibly grateful he hired me.” You disclosed several more details regarding your pay and employer, all of which Nataly absorbed wordlessly.
“Even I don’t get paid that much,” she said faintly, trying not to let jealousy overtake her excitement for you. “Good for you! And I’m sure him being hot makes the job better?”
“It’s distracting at best,” you grimaced. “Either way, though, I’m so glad you opened my mind to the job. You deserve all of my thanks.”
“Aww, Y/N.” Nataly was touched. “Sisters for sisters, am I right?”
“Of course,” you replied happily. “I’d never let you down.”
“Nor would I you.”
A welt of giddy ecstasy formed deep inside you. She had been there for you throughout your childhood, demonstrating the tough love you needed to thrive in the long run. She had been like a parent to you when you were younger, but now that you were both older and living independently, you were more friends than relatives.
This proved to be quite useful in situations such as this, a job search gone a million times better than imaginable.
You went to bed with a stomach full of butterflies, imagining with your overactive brain what interactions with Harry tomorrow would bring.
Snippets of your wet dream tormented your subconscious, weaving themselves into a paradisal, sex-etched dream in which you were Harry’s housewife. You lived a life cleaning your shared home by day and embracing him by night while he worshiped your work and your body. He told you how precious your children were and how he needed more of them. He told you he wanted a dozen little y/ns running around, playing with each other, and being downright adorable.
“You make the garden grow beautifully, my love,” Harry praised you as he knelt before you, his head dipping under your skirt. “And kneeling before you, I can see how you make the floors gleam. Plus, as we tucked in the children at bedtime, I realized how much they all resemble you. They have your eyes, your smile, and your heart. I’m going to need a million more.” He ducked his head out from under your skirt to examine your face as it beamed down at him, but it didn’t take long for him to begin devouring you.
“You’re so strong, mama,” he cooed, his face buried deeply into your pussy. You could feel his hot breath as it was muffled in your wet folds. “You do so much, and you do all of it well. You make beautiful babies as well.” He smiled a dimpled smile that only your clit could see before continuing. “It makes me feel like I need a thousand more. I know I’m busy but I need to show you how much I love you.”
“I know you love me, H.”
“Please, darling. You deserve the world.”
“You are the world.”
A gravelly moan clawed its way out of Harry’s throat as he continued thrusting his fingers into you. “Way too good for me,” he groaned. “You look so pretty, you’re so nice, you’re all tight for me and y’taste amazing,” he breathed. “You stand up to my cock so well. Do you want it in your mouth or your cunt?”
Your eyes were brimming with tears by the time you woke up. You hated it. You wished so desperately to ward off the remnants of the dream. Your pussy felt tender even thinking about the words he had spoken to you. You couldn’t remember much of what he had told you, but whatever it was had to be effortlessly sexy, just like him. The vision of him kneeling before you as he praised your pussy was a whole new level.
Harry would make a wonderful husband and father, there was no doubt in your mind. However, you hated the way he made you feel. After having met him less than twenty-four hours earlier, you had already had a wet dream about him on his sofa, spent an entire afternoon daydreaming about him ravishing you, and spent a night dreaming of his children. Anyone who could rewire your brain as such was dangerous.
You replayed every second of your encounters with him until a glance at your alarm clock told you that you had forgotten to set it the night before, and thus were running late. With a sigh of resignation, you slipped out of bed, not bothering to make it. After all, you’d be back in it the moment you returned home.
A trip to your wardrobe informed you that laundry would be a priority when you arrived home, but you were able to scrape together an outfit that consisted of leggings, a short-sleeved t-shirt, and an oversized hoodie. Fuck provocative skirts.
You gathered your hair into a messy knot at the back of your head and applied your makeup as well as you could through your haste. As the cliche stated, haste did indeed make waste. When applying your mascara, your hand slipped, smearing black paste from your lashes onto your undereye.
Fixing it was inconvenient at best, but the whole situation was a minor hitch compared to what was to come later in the day.
The drive to Harry’s house with the windows down and the radio blasting wasn’t half bad. You put on your favorite feel-good playlist and let the music wash over you as you drove. The melodies you’d grown to know and love filled your ears and your heart. You couldn’t fight the urge to smile foolishly.
The drive was long enough to rid your mind of any negativity and recharge you so you arrived feeling your best.
Harry was waiting for you just inside the door when you walked in. He greeted you with a pleasant smile and a subtle wink. “Good morning, love,” he smiled, standing stiffly a ways off. “How was your night?”
“Exhausting,” you groaned, nervously elaborating as you saw his face twist in confusion. “It was just a dream. I wasn’t doing anything else,” you explained. “Nothing I shouldn’t have been,” you mused under your breath.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he empathized, clearly oblivious to your latter quip. “Care to talk about it? I have time.”
“N-no,” you stammered, “there’s no need for that. Do you have any jobs for me today?”
“Eager to work, are we, darling?” Before you could put a word in crosswise, he continued. “I’m not sure that I have much for you to do today. I’ve got dinner in the fridge, don’t worry about making anything. Just do whatever you see fit.”
“This place is immaculate,” you frowned, momentarily forgetting the professional demeanor you were expected to uphold.
“It’s not always this orderly,” Harry chuckled fondly. “You’ll have your share of messes, I’m afraid. However, if you must do something, I have a collection of vases in the kitchen that could use a good cleaning.”
“I don’t mind!” You flashed him a winning smile. “After all, messes are what I signed up for!”
“There are a lot of vases, darling.”
You poked your head into the kitchen, gawking at the open cabinets and mountain of vases on the counters and floor. “That is a lot of vases!”
“You don’t expect the flowers to pot themselves, do you?” Harry joked. “It’s alright if you can’t finish them today. I completely understand. It’s taken me a year and… I have yet to get to them.”
“I’m not complaining,” you smiled pleasantly, cracking a smile at Harry’s comment.
A soft hum brewed in Harry’s throat as he contemplated adding something, ultimately deciding not to. “Call me if you need anything, love, but I’m sure all you’ll need is in my trusty old closet.” He beckoned towards the crawl space under the regally ascending staircase. “I have lunch for you in the fridge. Any other questions?”
“I don’t think so,” you said, trying to maintain a cheerful tone. “You had better be off.”
“Are you kicking me out of my own house?” Harry placed his hands on his hips in a teasing attempt to appear cross.
Shocked by his sudden change in emotion, you stepped back and stammered out a panicked reply.
“I was only joking, love. You’re right. I can’t be late for my own job, can I?”
“Have a good day, Mr… um, Harry.”
“You as well, Miss… Y/N.”
~~~~~
A trip around Harry’s mansion told you that finding an area to clean would be harder than expected. There were a few shelves you could dust or a few books to rearrange, but that would take you an hour at most. What were you supposed to do while Harry worked an entire nine-hour day? You made your way to the closet beneath the stairs and retrieved a feather duster.
Hesitantly, you began dusting the various paraphernalia you found around his house; books on shelves, lamps, and the surprising amount of snow globes you found lined up on window sills, notoriously collecting dust.
While the quantity of snow globes caught your attention, the content of some of them was particularly strange. There were some normal globes that contained winter animals and snow, and others that contained galoshes-clad children and snowmen. Alongside these were more obscure choices for snow globes; a poop emoji decked out in Christmas lights, a cactus wearing a jacket, and a decapitated chicken holding its own head to name a few.
After making sure every table, window sill, and trinket was dusted to perfection, you knew you should start on the vases, a task you absolutely dreaded. Your hands trembled increasingly as you neared the army of vases. There had to be at least one hundred of them. Your stomach was filled with dread, knowing all too well that they were all equally valuable as they were fragile. You set your mind to cleaning the outsides with a wet, sudsy rag and the inside with the same rag or a bottle cleaner, depending on the size of the opening. You drew in a deep breath to calm your mind and steady your hands. If they went on trembling as they had been, you’d surely drop every vase you dared to touch.
The sizes of the vases varied, as well as the height, colors, and patterns. Some of the vases were round and smaller than your hand while others were thin, tall, and tapered. They ranged in color and material from pure, spotless crystal to eccentrically painted clay pots. They were all beautiful in their own ways, but some were definitely more eye-catching, including crystal vases with ornate detailing etched into them. You assumed those to be the more valuable, more fragile vases.
You consoled yourself with the thought that if you were to shatter a vase in a freak turn of events, the money for a replacement would be withdrawn from your paycheck, which was more than plentiful to begin with. Reassured by your worst-case scenario, you grabbed a pair of tight gloves from the closet under the stairs. They proved to be more than helpful in providing grip to your fingers, which would have been too slippery alone.
You began with a broad rectangular vase that appeared sound and sturdy. You sponged down the outside before inserting the bottle cleaner and cleaning out any dust that had accumulated inside. You held onto its neck as if your life depended on it, because, in essence, it did. Your self-esteem was at stake.
Washing the vases wasn’t nearly as nerve-wracking as you’d anticipated. Eventually, you fell into a rhythm of polishing their outsides, thrusting a bottle cleaner inside, and rinsing them. The idea of Harry coming home to a counter full of perfectly clean vases motivated you. You couldn’t help but crave the praise he’d bestowed upon you in your dream. The view of impeccably arranged flowers thriving in his backyard made the task much more bearable.
Just as your confidence was in full bloom, your mind began to wander from the task at hand to a daydream similar to those you’d experienced the day before. Memories of your dreams wore at your stomach like a butterfly-infested pit. You tried to shake them, but you dropped a vase in the process. You jumped back in alarm as the painted terra cotta pot crashed to the floor, crumbling into an array of brightly colored pieces.
Your teeth sunk into your lip as you brainstormed ways to tell Harry that you had broken his vase. It was only your first day on the job; far too early to mess up so royally. Once your wits were gathered back up, you tiptoed carefully to the closet under the stairs in search of a broom and dustpan. You swept up the shards of pottery as carefully as you could before withdrawing a mop and bucket from the closet and cleaning the floor thoroughly.
~~~
After three more days of cleaning Harry’s house, a pit still grew in your stomach every time you wondered how you would break the news of the broken vase to Harry. Would he be upset or would he laugh it off? Would he take the money for a replacement out of your paycheck or fire you? You swore to yourself that you wouldn’t let your mind wander to worst-case scenarios. But it had been days since the vase was broken. Surely he would know that you’d delayed admitting this to him for one reason or another.
He had praised your work in cleaning the remaining vases, rewarding you with a glass of his favorite wine. The thought of telling him now that you’d shattered one of his precious vases was daunting. You shouldn’t have accepted his reward. You hoped he wouldn’t recall his kind action after the fact, but there was only so much you could about it now.
You distracted yourself with daydreams until he returned and your conscience would force you to admit your fault to him.
The yearning, lustful side of your soul longed to bear his children. You could imagine an army of children in the kitchen, making a mess out of cookie dough, or outside in his garden playing. You could see kids bouncing on their beds against your judgment and drawing masterpieces on the basement walls. These daydreams came and went throughout the day as you cleaned vases and dusted bookshelves.
Though it felt wrong to imagine Harry’s house filled with your children, you caught yourself smiling foolishly to yourself every time the thoughts crossed your mind. In fact, you were so enthralled by your fantasies, you didn’t hear the door open.
You were positioned in front of one of Harry’s numerous floor-to-ceiling bookshelves with a feather duster in hand, clearly serving no purpose as it hung limply at your side.
“D’you like books?” a low voice rasped from behind you.
You whirled around to find Harry leaning against the doorframe with half of his body in the living room.
“What?”
“Nothing, darling. I just asked if you liked books. I saw you examining the titles and assumed you were interested.”
“I do,” you responded slowly, feeling his eyes on you. “You’re home early.”
“No, ‘m not,” Harry replied. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I brought dinner if you’re hungry.”
“Oh,” you stood awkwardly by the bookcase you had been “dusting” as you racked your mind for quick excuses to escape.
“Y’don’t have to stay f’you don’t want to,” Harry assured you. “Just know there’s more than enough to go around.”
The hopeless romantic in you yearned for more time with him. Any time could potentially turn into a night, after all. On the other hand, the more reasonable side of you told you to leave. You had been thinking about him all day, in ways he could never imagine. If your tongue were to slip after a drink, your cover would be blown and you could lose your job after barely having secured it for a full week.
“I’ll stay,” you decided softly. Your innermost conscience let out a howl of disdain.
Harry’s face broke into a broad grin. “Thank you, love. I know I haven’t really gotten to know you, and since my house has been getting to know you, I figured I should too.”
You nodded awkwardly, watching helplessly as he withdrew a styrofoam takeout container from inside a flimsy plastic bag.
“I just got pasta. I hope that’s okay with you.”
You let out a soft hum similar to a chuckle before feeling his gaze fixed on you once more. A wave of heat rushed to your cheeks as you scrambled to give him your approval.
“Come to the kitchen.”
You followed Harry through the narrow hallway that led to the kitchen. He removed two plates and wine glasses from a cupboard as you watched, twirling your hair uncomfortably.
“How much d’you want?” Harry asked, beckoning for you to join him at the counter with the food. “It’s pretty filling.”
“Not a whole lot,” you responded, but the closer you got, the better the food looked and smelled.
“Which is how much, love?” Harry pressed, lowering a mass of noodles onto your plate. “Not a whole lot like this? Less? More?”
“Like that,” you said meekly.
“You can always have more, darling,” he reassured you. “Wine?”
“A little bit.”
You nodded contentedly as you watched him pour two glasses of deep red wine dish up his own pasta. “We can eat in the living room,” he decided. “That’s what I do most of the time.”
“Such a gorgeous kitchen and dining table and you don’t use it?” you asked without thinking, your voice filled with a mixture of awe and disbelief.
Harry let out a rolling laugh. “That’s why it’s so spotless,” he explained. “If you want, we can eat in here.”
“You can choose. I honestly don’t care.”
“Let’s eat in the living room,” Harry concluded. “We can watch tv or read books or just talk; whatever y’want, love.”
Your heart fluttered as he spoke. You followed him into the living room, where he sunk comfortably into the woven, cream-colored upholstery of the loveseat.
“Sit anywhere y’like.” He made a broad, sweeping gesture across the room. You sat down tentatively on the sofa opposite his.
The two of you ate in comfortable silence for a moment before he broke the silence. “What kind of books d’you like, Y/N?”
“I like any kind of book,” you replied after swallowing the hardly-chewed bite of food in your mouth. “I read whatever books I can get my hands on.”
“I’m kind of the same way.” He shifted his weight from one hip to the other, crossing his left leg over his right. “I like older stories.”
“Such as?”
“Shakespeare-era stuff. I like tragedies. And romances.”
“And murder mysteries?” Your mind flashed to the murder mystery of his you had picked up in his second living room on Monday. You hoped you weren’t being too blunt.
“That’s more of a guilty pleasure,” he admitted with a sheepish smile through a bite of pasta. “I’m reading one now if that interests you.”
You let out a pleasant hum as you feigned intrigue. “Is it good?”
“Yes.” He aimed his twinkling eyes down at his plate. “Like I said, a guilty pleasure.”
“I’ve never seen someone so embarrassed to like mysteries,” you remarked innocently. “This is coming from a girl who listens to true-crime podcasts before bed.”
Harry’s eyes flashed up to you with a look of amused bewilderment. “That’s a new one to me.”
You smiled shyly as your cheeks flushed.
“True crime, hm?” Harry eyed you playfully as he took another bite of pasta. “Does it put you to sleep?”
“Kind of,” you replied bashfully, letting out a helpless laugh as you were suddenly stricken with self-consciousness regarding what you’d shared.
“No judgment, dear, its alright. I’ve got my fair share of interesting habits.”
“Oh?” you quirked an eyebrow, willing him to continue.
“You’ve seen my garden?”
“Of course. It’s beautiful!”
He nodded, ducking his head slightly. “I get up early every morning to tend the flowers before the sun rises.”
“That’s early.”
He nodded. “I suppose that’s not too strange. The world is filled with its early birds.”
“I guess,” you nearly whispered, trying only to fill the silence. “Your garden is beautiful. I assumed you had a gardener to tend it.”
“Didn’t see me as the gardening type, eh?”
You stuttered out an incoherent response, but Harry just laughed.
“That’s alright, love. Neither did I, at first. Maybe one day you can come early and help me. Maybe spend the night? Believe me, that was merely the tip of the iceberg regarding my interesting mannerisms. But we can save those for another night.”
It was all you could do to finish chewing your bite before you swallowed it.
Harry’s eyes were angled skillfully down at his plate, but high enough to catch your reaction. The b*stard.
“Do you want to watch something, love? Or would you rather read?”
“Either sounds good,” you said in a tone more chipper than usual as you tried to clear your head. Had Harry really asked you to stay overnight?
“Let’s put on a movie. Y’won’t be able to see the tv from over there.”
“Oh.” You craned your neck around until the massive flatscreen tv came into view.
He patted the cushion beside him and you joined him tentatively.
“I have blankets if y’want one.”
“I’ll take one,” you replied.
He tossed the remote into your hand as he rose to his feet, using a hand on your knee to guide his body upwards. “I’ll be back in a moment. Find something you like. I’ll watch anything. I’m easy that way.”
Your breath caught in your throat as you watched him leave. The backside of his navy blue slacks creased tantalizingly under his delicious ass as he walked, and his suit coat made his back look so muscular and broad. You could only imagine the wonders that lay beneath. These thoughts threatened to launch your mind into another spiral, but you tamed them as if your life depended on it.
As he disappeared from your sight, you sorted through the shows on his Netflix until you landed on a show you’d begun years ago. Though you barely knew him, the show seemed to be right up Harry’s alley, and you might as well rewatch a little bit if you were going to stay.
He returned in a matter of minutes with an armful of blankets. He cocked an eyebrow at the television before tossing a blanket in your direction.
You pulled it snugly around your shoulders and Harry did the same with his, casting you a playful smile and a shrug.
“Have you seen this before?” he asked, referring to the tv.
“A little. It was the only thing I’d started.”
“You didn’t finish it?”
“No.”
“Why not, love?” he asked rhetorically as he settled onto the couch beside you. “It looks like a perfectly decent show t’me.”
“You might not be into this kind of thing,” you informed him. “I don’t quite remember if I liked it. We can watch something else if you want. I just… panicked and chose something.”
“You panicked?” Harry repeated. “Are y’scared of me?”
“N-no.”
“You don’t sound so sure, love.” He raised an eyebrow adorably as you tossed the remote back to him. “If anything, I should be scared of you, the way you work so hard.”
You were struck by a sudden attack of deja vu.
“Cleaning all of those vases, completing the task that I could never bring my lazy ass to do.” He ran a hand over his stubble as he let out a shameful laugh, turning his attention to the tv.
The back of the couch proved to be a comfortable place to rest your head. Soon, you drifted off to sleep, unbeknownst to Harry. Much to your relief, your dreams weren’t haunted by ghosts of sex or elements of noisy children. In fact, you didn’t dream at all. Though you usually looked forward to the scenarios your dreams provided you with, you were grateful to have a peaceful sleep for once.
Harry’s voice awoke you two hours (and three episodes) later, breaking gently through the barrier between your mind and reality.
“Do you want to keep watching?” When there was no response, he glanced over to his left where you were sleeping peacefully. “Y/N, doll,” he called softly. “Wake up, love.”
You eased your eyes open, drawing in a long breath before a yawn escaped your lips.
“Tired, darling?”
“A little,” you replied, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “What time is it?”
“Eleven-thirty. It’s probably time for you to go home, doll. You can take the blanket with if you want.”
“I’m okay,” you said as you stifled another yawn.
“Do you need a ride?”
“I should be all right.” You rose to your feet, bending backwards slightly to alleviate the ache in your back. “Thanks for dinner, H.”
“You’re welcome, darling. See you tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?”
“Monday,” he corrected himself, shaking his head as he rolled his eyes playfully. “Stupid Harry. See you Monday?”
“Sure. Harry?”
“Y/N?”
“On Tuesday, when I was washing your vases,” you began, standing as stiff as a statue as your heart hammered inside your chest, “I broke one.”
“You broke a vase?” Harry rose to his feet beside you and your breath caught in your throat.
“Which vase?”
“It was short and stout… terra cotta with painted geometric designs. I kept the pieces if you wanted me to try and fix it?” The words spilled out of you as your face flushed a deep shade of red. Tears of embarrassment pricked at your eyes.
“No, darling,” he chuckled, pressing a finger beneath his nose in attempt to muffle his amusement. “That’s not necessary. Don’t be upset, okay? I’ve got hundreds of them for a reason.”
You managed a weak smile as you took a deep breath to steady yourself.
“That vase cost twenty dollars at most. Don’t worry about it.”
“Twenty dollars-”
“It’s not that much, lovie.”
“It’s not a lot, but it’s not my money!” you insisted, beelining to the table near the door where you had placed your belongings upon arrival that morning. “I promise, I can pay you back.”
“No, Y/N.” Harry protested. “Please, darling. Don’t worry about it.”
“I owe you.”
“I owe you, doll. You’ve helped me out a ton this week.”
“You can take it out of my paycheck,” you suggested.
“You’re asking for a demotion?” Harry grinned. “Think of the vase money as a bonus.” He reached into the pocket of his stiff, creased pants and withdrew a twenty dollar bill. He held it out to you and you stepped back in confusion.
“For keeping me company.”
“I broke your vase and you shared your dinner with me.”
“Take it,” Harry insisted. “You’re not leaving without it.” Just then, with a smug smile slapped across his face, he took the money and hid it behind his back, watching your face intently for a reaction.
“H…”
“You can have it, love. I suppose it isn’t getting any earlier. Drive safely, okay?” He wrapped his arms around you, sweeping you up into his arms until he was holding you bridal-style. He pressed a hot kiss to your lips before setting you back on your feet and folding the bill into your hand. “Good night, doll. See you Monday.”
“See you Monday, H.”
Harry stood in the entryway for a long moment after you shut the door, removing his phone from his pocket to check the doorbell camera and ensure that you made it to your car safely. As soon as you were safely on your way home, he flipped from his Ring tab to his messages to catch up on anything he might have missed.
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Here she isss! 3.4k words of the slowest burn ever lol. Thank you for all of the love the sneak peek got! Just for navigation purposes, the small, red text is the same as that in the introduction. Again, this is an incredibly slow burn, so stick with me!!
TW: slight sexual tension, wet dreams, SLOW-ASS BURN ⚠️ mentions of toxic households, abuse, drugs, and many other sensitive topics for short amounts of time.
~~~
Being an adult is hard.
Those were the sole words of wisdom your parents had bestowed upon you as a child. Enjoy your time under our roof, they’d said, because once you leave, life will be more difficult than you could ever imagine.
It wasn’t that you didn’t believe them. Quite the contrary, really. The adults you were raised among seemed like purposeless puppets. They woke up on weekdays and went to work just to party on the weekends and cough up enough money for rent at the end of the month before repeating the cycle. And Even this “reckless” lifestyle seemed rigorous to maintain.
It was exasperating to be a child in the midst of this, much less an adult responsible for a child. The sixteen full years that you spent surrounded by alcohol, drugs, smoke, assault, gunshots, and toxic love had you gasping for air. You dropped out of school the moment you were old enough and your parents never knew.
You experimented with different types of jobs for the duration of your time at home. None of them felt right, but you accepted that as your future. If you weren’t finishing high school, gas stations, and fast-food restaurants it was.
When you were eighteen, you moved out and got a small apartment using the funds you’d been diligently collecting for the past two years. All of the jobs you worked were hierarchies, stratified into challenging levels someone like you could never conquer. Your future was only as bright as your resume, and your resume wasn’t promising.
You weren’t in contact with your family, except your sister, Nataly, though even that was limited to a singular call or text every few months. Both calls and texts were usually initiated by you. That’s why it was strange when she called you one Thursday evening in May.
“Guess what?” she had asked, voice radiant with excitement, carrying on before you got a word in. “I got a job working for this rich man uptown and he gave me my first paycheck. He’s paying me so well!” She went on to describe the job in vivid detail, and you had to admit, it was more than convincing.
“That's unbelievable, Nat,” you replied, feigning happiness. “Well, I don’t doubt that someone like you could land a good job, but... You know what I mean. Do you think that I would enjoy a job like that?”
“Oh, Y/N,” she gushed. “Of course! Especially if your client is as gorgeous as mine.”
The concept of attractive men had you sold instantly and she knew it. Within an hour, you added yourself to a hiring website where you put an ad out for a housekeeper. Now, all you had to do was wait. Fortunately, your offer was accepted within minutes by a wealthy man who lived uptown. He was in touch instantly, helping you plan out your tentative work schedule.
You couldn’t believe how well things were going. The dots were practically connecting themselves.
That night, you lay in bed, eyes aglow as you revised every detail of your evening. You had gotten a call from your sister, quit your job, and gotten a new job working as a maid. From now on, you would spend your days cooking and cleaning for a strange man in a mansion i rather than ringing up bottles of water and packets of trail mix for begrudging truckers. This kind of change was nearly unfathomable, a one-eighty capable of giving you whiplash.
~~~
Monday morning rolled around, dragging you with it. You were grossly unprepared. Your client supposedly had everything you needed, but that didn’t assuage your feelings of anxiety. You hadn’t cleaned anyone’s house but your own, much less wealthy old men in good neighborhoods. Hopefully, he would be kind and well-compensating like Nataly’s.
Clothed in loose, simple garments, you examined your appearance hesitantly. Your hair was pulled back into a low bun and your face was covered in a cheap layer of hastily-done makeup. You had to keep reminding yourself that you weren’t aiming to seduce the old geezer, rather earn money.
Once in your car, you punched his address into your GPS and followed it attentively, trying to pry your brain from the intruding thoughts of inadequacy. The farther you went, the nicer the homes and neighborhoods became. You assumed that none of the children that lived around here didn’t get to watch shoot-offs from their bedroom window every other weekend.
The GPS continued directing you up the street, and the houses got remarkably bigger, presumably costing a fortune. After driving for forty-five minutes, the GPS directed you to stop in front of the biggest, most beautiful house you’d ever seen. It was three stories tall and the most elegant building you’d ever seen.
It was made of a welcoming tan stone with regal white pillars framing the front door. There were windows everywhere, and even they looked expensive.
Eyes wide with amazement, you remained in your car, unable to move. You absorbed your surroundings as if you had never opened your eyes before. They scanned everything around you, eventually landing on the massive garage built into the side of the house. It was presumably filled with all kinds of luxury vehicles.
Once your wits returned to you, you made your way up the front walk and onto the stoop. A moment after you’d rung the doorbell, a voice called from somewhere inside, instructing you to enter. You opened the door cautiously and found yourself standing in the doorway, taking in the crystal chandelier and gleaming marble floors, jaw agape.
Just then, a tall man strode briskly in through the hallway beside you, flashing you a grand smile. He was much younger than you imagined, but dilf material nonetheless. He was dressed in a smart navy blue suit and his hair was tousled immaculately. He gave you a cocky smile, noticing the awe on your face. He was definitely proud of all that he had, but who wouldn’t be? You were surely blessed to be in his presence.
“Y/N, right?” he inquired.
He held out his hand for a shake and you broke out into a cold sweat at the thought of touching him. As he raised his hand, his sleeve fell just enough to reveal the tattoos that lay beneath.
You tried to forget about his arms and focused on his voice. His accent made your name seem beautiful and exotic. This was too much.
You took his hand and shook it properly. “Yes,” you stuttered, straightening yourself, busying yourself by fixing your waistband to avoid eye contact. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”
“Beautiful.” He let out a breathy chuckle.
He was so suave and articulate, speaking smoothly and making confident eye contact; a right businessman. And here you were, tripping over your words like the lower-class person you were.
He directed you toward a closet built into the side of his double staircase. “Everything you’ll need is in here and if you’re missing something, don’t hesitate to let me know. I don’t have anything f’you to do today. Take the to look around, I understand it’s pretty overwhelming.”
You smiled gratefully, deciding to ignore his implication to your income and upbringing.
“I only have to work until one today, so I’ll be back to answer any of your questions. Sound good?”
You nodded, trying your best to keep your act together until he left.
“I just have one rule. Whatever you do, don’t touch the door at the end of the hallway on the third story. Okay?”
You nodded again. “Yes, sir.”
“Harry,” he corrected with a cocky smile. “Call me Harry.”
His words echoed in your ears as he exited the door, briefcase in clutch. You locked the door behind him, sinking to the ground with your back to the wall, heart racing.
Once you’d peeled yourself from the spotless marble floor, you set off to explore the mansion. It was enormous. It looked so grand and regal from the outside, but the exterior was dull and unkempt compared to the interior.
Once you were past the rich mahogany door, the entry to the house was breathtaking. The ceiling was high and white, studded with decorative lights and a faux (or possibly real) crystal chandelier. The walls, adorned with decorative molding, were white and equally stunning. To your left, a door led to a cozy living room with a gorgeous fireplace, bougie white sofas, and an entire wall of bookshelves that were packed with books of every genre imaginable.
You spent an unreasonable amount of time examining the well-known titles and tracing your fingers over their gold-embroidered bindings.
A grand piano stood solemnly in the corner of the room, lid open as if it was calling you to it. Its bench looked deliciously comfortable and it was all you could do to ignore it. The thought of Harry spending his evenings here, surrounded by books and music, made your heart ache. Oh, how you longed to spend a night with him.
Eventually, you forced yourself to leave the room. You found yourself back in the entryway, realizing that it was much chillier than the living room. You hugged your arms to yourself instinctively, directing your attention to your right where a curved double staircase stood. You poked your head into the closet that hid beneath them and your jaw fell open. Your eyes scanned the dimly lit room, which brimmed with cleaning supplies. He really did have anything you’d need.
Beside the staircase, a short, narrow hallway led to a bright, open kitchen and dining room. You gasped in awe at the immaculate granite countertops, backsplash, and spotless appliances. There was an island in the center of the room with a row of stools lined up neatly beside it. A gorgeous floral arrangement was positioned in the middle of the island, serving as a hand-grown botanical centerpiece.
The left wall of the kitchen consisted of floor-to-ceiling windows, displaying a breathtaking view of Harry’s backyard. A bright turquoise pool was set further back into the lawn, behind rows of well-groomed flowers that probably had better self-care routines than you. They were full and colorful, bathing in the mid-spring sunlight. Buds were bursting from the stems, mere minutes away from blooming.
You could imagine Harry waking up at the crack of dawn to water and fertilize his flowers, helping them grow big and strong.
Once you had finished taking in his kitchen, you wandered up the staircase and found yourself on another floor of the spectacular mansion. This floor mainly consisted of spare bedrooms, bathrooms, and a second living room. This living room had more windows than the first, and the morning sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, filling the room beautifully with delicate shadows. A loveseat sat beneath the room’s big window with a glass coffee table positioned before it.
A thick book rested on the coffee table, along with a pair of reading glasses and a half-finished cup of coffee.
You perched yourself on the edge of the loveseat and picked up the book, opening it to where the bookmark was. You squinted at the tiny words, holding a hand up to shield your eyes from the sun. Your eyes scanned the page, absorbing the words at the speed of light. The jacketless binding made your reading unclear, but it was undoubtedly interesting. Who would have thought this attractive rich man liked romance novels?
After reading a few pages, you caught yourself. Who were you to be snooping around a stranger’s mansion? You set the book down on the coffee table, instinctively moving the bookmark to the page you had been reading. As soon as you’d done it, your heart dropped. How much had you read? Which pages had the bookmark been between? You flipped the pages back frantically, trying to comprehend the minuscule text as you went.
Time stood still.
Every time you recognized a sentence, your heart would flutter hopefully, only to be let down by the next line. Would Harry know you’d been snooping? Would he be mad? He wouldn’t fire you on the first day, would he? Just as it began to seem that all hope had been lost, you found the correct page. It was only one page away from the one you’d finished on. Cheeks flushing in embarrassment, you replaced the bookmark and set it back on the coffee table before scurrying from the room.
Once in the hallway, you remembered the instructions Harry had given you about the third story. What could possibly dwell behind the forbidden door? Your mind raced as you climbed the second flight of stairs, imagining all possible scenarios. By the time you reached the top of the staircase, you had concluded that his bedroom was probably behind the door.
Maybe it was messy and he was embarrassed. That wouldn’t make sense. You were there to clean, after all. Maybe he hid his valuables in there and he was afraid of you stealing something. Your neighborhood was notorious for robberies, after all. Damn stereotypes.
You paused, hand poised to twist the doorknob. Maybe he was hiding someone in there. Maybe he hid corpses in his closet. The thought of being in his strange mansion alone with countless limp, lifeless bodies sent chills down your spine. You retreated from the door as fast as your legs would carry you.
Down in the first-story living room, you sank into the couch, heart racing. What were you doing, meddling around like that? In a strange man’s house, even more. There was a reason he told you not to enter the room, and you were bound to respect that. You couldn’t risk losing such a wonderful job, after all.
It was a dream come true.
Your spine tingled deliciously as you imagined becoming Harry’s Cinderella. You could clean his house by day and be his sex toy by night. These daydreams kept you occupied as you reclined on his sofa, smiling simply to yourself. The same dialogue played on loop in your mind, wiping you out. Despite your mental urges, you found yourself drifting off to sleep.
~~~
“Have you been good today, darling?”
“Yes.”
Harry cupped your chin as you nodded, eyes locking with his. “What have I told you? You can tell all the lies all you want. That doesn’t make them true.”
“I’ve been good,” you protested. “I’m not lying, why do you always accuse me of lying?”
“Hm. A little too mouthy f’your own good,” Harry commented with a frown, placing his thumb on your bottom lip. “I’ll have to fix that.”
You poked your tongue out, using it to lap at the pad of his thumb softly.
“Such a dirty girl. I might have to punish you for that.”
“I’m a good girl, daddy,” you whimpered, moaning softly as his fingers began circling your clit. “I don’t need a punishment.”
Harry pulled both of your wrists into one of his large hands, holding them behind your back.
“Be good f’me,” he warned. “I’m being nice now, but one more strike and you’re out.” With that, he removed your underwear and lowered his head to your dripping cunt. “Be good,” he repeated.
~~~
You awoke with a start. Jerking your head up, you looked around frantically. Once you had concluded that you were still alone, you sat back against the sofa’s luscious cushions, heart racing. Only then did you become aware of the warm, wet feeling in your underwear. You bit your lip, nearly drawing blood.
You rushed into one of the house’s many bathrooms to examine your flustered face in the mirror. Had you not been wearing makeup, you would have splashed ice-cold on your face water to snap you out of whatever trance you had fallen into.
The burning in your tummy didn’t alleviate with time. You paced Harry’s hallways, replaying the dream in your head. Every time you restarted, more of the details dwindled away, eventually leaving you with one line.
“A little too mouthy for your own good. I’ll have to fix that.”
A quick check of the time told you that Harry would be home any minute. Disregarding your conscience, you darted up the stairs and found yourself right in front of his forbidden door.
He should have known that his instructions tempted you to peek. Your hand was on the doorknob, ready to twist when you heard a sound from downstairs. A sound like a door shutting.
“Y/N!” Harry’s voice shouted. “I’m home, love. Where are you?”
Relief washed over your body, along with a pang of guilt. Who were you to disobey your master on your first day?
You descended the flights of stairs gradually, heart racing as Harry came into view. There he stood, briefcase still in tow, in the same gorgeous suit as earlier. His hair definitely wasn’t as precise as earlier, serving as a further turn-on.
“There you are!” His angelic face broke into a wide grin upon seeing you. “I was beginning to think you got lost.”
“Oh,” you said awkwardly, feeling heat rush to your face. Thoughts coursed through your mind going a million miles per hour. Had his cologne smelled this good when he left? Had his lips always looked so smooth and delicious? Had his eyes always been that green and glittery?
“You okay, darling?” he inquired, stepping closer to you as he set his briefcase down. “Y’look pretty pale.”
“I-I’m okay,” you managed, stumbling backward drunkenly. “How was work?”
“Good,” he smiled contentedly. “How was your day? Did you show yourself around a bit? Stayed out of the room upstairs, I assume?”
You nodded slowly, licking your lips. Your heart began palpitating upon remembering your daydreams. “It was good.”
“Just good?” Harry feigned disappointment. “Go on, honey. Curiosity killed the cat.”
“I just have one question,” you stalled, using the toe of your sneaker to trace the marble pattern on the floor. “What’s in the room upstairs?” you blurted out, hugging your arms to yourself in shame when the question escaped. “I’m sorry.”
“‘S alright, love, it’s only my bedroom. It’s just a bit messy, that’s all.”
“Sorry if that was rude,” you said desperately. “I promise, I didn’t go in. Just… curious, you know?”
“I know,” Harry put a large hand on your trembling back. “You’re okay, doll. I can show you if you want.”
“Show me your room?” You barely dared to believe his words. The world felt like it was rushing around you. You could barely stand up out of mere disbelief.
Harry nodded, rubbing circles on your back with his fingertips. “It’s nothing special, especially compared to all this.” His arm swept fluidly across the room. “But ‘f you’re that curious, I’ll show you.”
“It’s up to you, sir. Harry. Mr. Styles.”
Harry cast you a charming smile that showed off his dimples, shaking his head in amusement. “It’s Harry, darling. That’s all you need to know. Follow me.”
You followed him up the stairs, trying not to stare at his gorgeous ass as you went, but there it was. Right in front of your face.
Once you were outside his door, he turned the doorknob and let the door fall open. The room was much darker than the rest of his mansion. The curtains hadn’t been opened yet and the California king bed remained unmade. His room wasn’t as pristine as the rest of the house by any means, but his bougie style was still evident.
Half of his room was a workspace, holding a large, modern desk and a row of tidy file cabinets. His desk was littered with small plants and his papers were arranged in neat stacks. The other half of his room held his bed, the window, two nightstands, and his closet. The closet door was mildly ajar, open far enough for you to glimpse the orderly lineup of clothes inside.
He was really too good to be true.
“Was it all you imagined?”
Harry’s low voice startled you from your thoughts. Were you really coming off as that much of a creep?
“What do you mean?” You tried to laugh it off, but your burning hot cheeks were a dead giveaway.
“I was only joking, love. Anyway, I haven’t got anything f’you to do today, but I can show you around some more if you’d like.”
“That’s okay,” you said quickly, backing away. “Thanks for everything!”
Before he could respond, you were down the stairs and out the door.
Taglist (either interact with this for all of my writings or comment on this post for this series): @victoria-styles @witchywolfewood27 @ilovemuppets @rueluvsharry @sunshinemoonsposts @namelesssav couldn’t tag u bestie :( @pamelagramm @lukesaprince @madybeth21 couldn’t tag u either ): @groovychaosavenue @fishingirl12 @sortingharryshairclip @tenaciousperfectionunknown @mrspeacem1nusone @cayleyhannha-blog @babygirl-jj
a/n: it’s been a minute… this won’t make sense if you haven’t read the previous parts.
summary: harry was naughty so y/n seeks revenge
tw: smut, angst, cheating, breeding, grammatical errors, etc.
wc: 2k-ish
Harry lowered his head to give you one final kiss before heading inside. “Would you like to help me choose my outfit?” he called over his shoulder.
Not needing any further invitation, you followed him into his extensive closet, marveling internally at the overwhelming array of labels you saw. In the end, you chose a plain white button-up shirt and navy blue pants, to which he added his coat and one of many pairs of dress shoes.
“Get out of here while I get dressed.” he joked, swatting your ass with his shirt as he pulled it off over his head. “I’m a very modest man.”
Giggling, you exited the room and beelined for the bathroom, knowing that he would need in there as soon as he finished getting dressed. You used the few minutes to yourself to ponder the events of the morning, waking up, sitting with Harry on the couch, and helping him water his flowers. You wished it was something you would get to experience for the rest of your life, but a pang in your heart told you that your wasn’t going to pan out like your visions.
“Baby, I need to get in and brush my teeth!” Harry called from outside, banging his fists on the door. “I’m going to be late for my meeting on account of you.”
“Oh, simmer down, hot shot,” you chided as you opened the door to his tall, perfect figure. “If your presence is requested on your day off, they can wait a moment for you to arrive.”
Peering at his reflection in the mirror, he ran his fingertips across the stubble growing around his jaw and chin and contemplated whether or not he should take the time to shave it.
All you could do was lean your head on the counter and watch his every move in adoration. He didn’t find the staring unusual in the slightest; he lived by the idea of admiring what you have, while you have it.
~~~
“Are these yours?”
“Are what mine?” You made your way back into the bathroom where Harry was standing, a toothbrush in one hand and a small, purple pair of underwear in the other.
“These,” he repeated around his mouthful of toothpaste.
“Harry,” you breathed in astonishment as you looked at the panties dangling from his finger. “There’s no way on God’s green earth that I’d ever be able to fit into those.”
“Oh.” A wave of heat hit Harry’s face. He looked more guilty than anything you’d ever seen. “Oh.”
~~~
“Harry,” you insisted at dinner on Monday night. “I’m not asking for an apology. I’m asking for the truth.”
“I know y’are, lovie,” Harry agreed, still refusing eye contact, choosing instead to fiddle with the ring on his pinky. “You deserve the truth. This just isn’t the right place.”
“It’s Monday night. No one’s here,” you pleaded. “If you you owe me anything, it’s an explanation. Not food.”
Harry tapped his painted thumbnail against the foot of his glass, swirling the ice around inside of it. “If you want me to explain here, I will.”
“It just depends on how much you value us.”
“I saw a girl once,” he began, making timid eye contact for the first time that evening.
“Only once?” you prompted.
“Only once since we’ve been together,” he confirmed. “I’d seen her before that.”
You remained silent for a moment, digesting the information. You downed the remainder of your drink before looking back at Harry with teary eyes.
“It’s too cliche to apologize, isn’t it?” he barely dared to ask,
“Say what you want,” you muttered. “It’s your life. Just know it doesn’t change anything.”
Harry felt a pang in his heart. He felt your eyes on him, assessing his emotions through his facial features. Looking down at his lap, he resorted to going through his mental photo album.
Y/N scared on her first day of work. Y/N asleep on his couch when he came home late. Y/N assessing his bookshelf. Y/N reveling at his shoe collection. Y/N in the golden morning sunlight in his garden on Saturday morning. Y/N looking at him as if he was the only man in the world.
He didn’t notice the tears falling down his cheeks until it was too late. Drawing in a sharp breath through his nose, he used his thumb to discreetly wipe the fallen tears off his cheeks and blink away the wetness accumulating in his eyes.
Standing over his table was a familiar waitress; Aria. “How is everything going over here?” she asked with a smile, flipping her high, curled ponytail animatedly as she spoke. “Unfortunately, our chef misread your order and it will take approximately forty-five more minutes until it will be ready. Are you okay with that or ready for your final bill?”
Harry searched Y/N’s eyes for an answer, but before they could confer, she answered for him.
“We’re ready for our bill. Two separate tabs, please.”
~~~
Despite your falling out with Harry, you agreed to continue working for him under the condition that you would no longer cook his meals. You refused to greet one another at the beginnings and ends of shifts, and if Harry attempted to contact you in any way, he would find it impossible.
On Friday of the next week, the doorbell sounded through the mansion. Gradually, you made your way from the third story sitting room down to the entryway, cleaning what you saw fit on the way. Assuming Harry had come home early and forgotten his key, you were in no rush to open the door.
However, as you reached ground level, you noticed a silhouette at the door that didn’t belong to Harry. Embarrassed, you flung the door open, apologizing profusely for dawdling to answer.
“It’s perfectly fine,” the man answered, his voice etched with an Irish lilt. “Gnarly scratch,” he noticed, pointing at Harry’s orange Ferrari, which was parked in the open garage. “What happened?”
“Don’t mind the car. You know how rough men can be. Can I help you?” you said shortly, standing up taller.
“I’m Niall, Harry’s next-door neighbor. I was wondering if everything’s alright around here. It’s really no big deal.” Clearly uncomfortable, the man shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and glanced from your sneakers to his loafers and back up at your face. “In all honesty, I was expecting Harry to be home, given he doesn’t work on Fridays.”
“That’s funny,” you replied vaguely. “Harry’s at work as we speak.”
“It’s really none of my business,” the neighbor concluded, turning around to leave. “I couldn’t help but notice the disarray in his backyard. I’ve never known him to keep the gate open.”
“His backyard or front yard?” you clarified. “What’s wrong with the backyard?”
“There’s trash everywhere. The flowerbeds are destroyed. I assumed you’d have noticed since you’ve been here all morning.”
“Wait here for me,” you barely had time to call over your shoulder as you disappeared into the house, leaving the door agape behind you. “You’re welcome to come in,” you added awkwardly as you entered the kitchen.
Sure enough, the backyard was absolutely devastated. Harry’s prized flowerbeds were ripped to shreds. His recycling bin lay on its side, contents splayed out over the entirety of the lawn. Your jaw dropped as you assessed the damage behind the mansion. Although you had no part in the destruction, it made you feel horrible for scratching his car and pruning the bushes a little too much.
Negatively awestruck, you returned to the front hall where Niall remained, toying with his sleeve cuff. He was clothed in a casual blue button-up, unbuttoned at the top to expose his chest and a generous amount of hair, and relaxed jeans. “I might need to check the back cameras,” you explained, opening the camera app and scrolling through hours of the morning’s fruitless footage.
Niall scooted behind you, squinting to make out shapes in the darkness of the screen. The backyard camera clearly depicted a creature, small and furry, nuzzling open an unintentionally locked door and ripping the gorgeous yard to shreds.
“I wonder if Harry knows,” you barely dared to whisper.
“By the way I’ve known him to watch his cameras, he’s bound to,” Niall assured you. As you and Niall made conversation, the footage played mindlessly in the background. Night turned to morning and something in the garage caught Niall’s eye. “Switch to the front camera real quick.”
Without thinking, you switched cameras, your stomach instantly sinking with regret.
“Is that… you?”
“Maybe?”
“You scratched Harry’s car?”
“With a car key? Yes.”
“Can I take a stab and guess why?” Niall licked his lips nervously, waiting for your eyes to tell him yes.
“You scratched the door of Harry’s million-dollar Ferrari because he’s been seeing other girls while you were together.”
You nodded sullenly. “Wanna guess what my earbuds were playing?”
“Don’t tell me.” Niall rolled his eyes mockingly. “Carrie Underwood?”
You shook your head, trying to laugh the magnitude of the situation off. “No. But it’s a good story, am I right?”
“Definitely.” Niall looked at you with downtrodden blue eyes before reaching for the doorknob. “If you need anything, you know where to find me. If you ever decide you need more revenge.”
~~~
“This is my kind of revenge.”
“You could say that again.”
The conversation between thrusts was minimal; most of the sound accounted for was those that accompanied sex. Doing it with Niall was different than with Harry, but arguably better. Whether it was the sweet taste of victorious revenge or cum, it didn’t matter. The idea was to make Harry jealous, and it was all but guaranteed to succeed.
“I don’t even care if Harry’s jealous,” you decided, reclining against Niall’s chest, running your fingers through the sheer layer of hair covering it.
“Don’t you?” Niall’s fingers wrapped around your wrist as you spoke, caressing your hands absentmindedly.
“Not at all. Not only are you bigger, but you feel amazing.”
Niall chuckled to himself, lowering his face to the side of yours. “I’ll get you nice and stretched out for him,” he teased. His lips feathered along the curve of your ear, his breath tickling it as he whispered. “Dozens of little Y/Ns, all of them bearing my last name.”
“Niall!” you gasped, giggling to yourself as you squirmed to escape his tongue. “That’s naughty!”
“It doesn’t take a genius to assume you’re fertile,” Niall shrugged. “I’d do anything and everything you’re comfortable with. Picture me without the condom.”
He used his hands on your hips to roll you onto your back, where he began fucking into you from behind. His trimmed fingernails dug small dimples into your ass. “If any man tries to do you wrong again, they’ll be met with the permanent visual of my dental records on your ass.”
As Niall’s hands grew sweatier, his grip on your shoulders loosened and slipped. His heavy breathing was peppered with shaky moans as he thrust into and out of you.
His length swelled with pleasure as your walls corroded with his skin. Droplets of liquid leaked from his tip, mixing with the arousal between your lips. Your thighs burned as you approached your climax, craving relief.
~~~
“I love you, Y/N,” Niall told you plainly as he showed you to the bathroom to clean up. “I only hope I didn’t overstep at all this evening.”
“Not at all,” you assured him. “It was marvelous.”
“Sleep in as long as you like. I’ll be on the couch in the living room if you need anything. My housekeeper will be here in the morning, but don’t worry about her. You can never outstay your welcome.”
~~~
Taglist: @victoria-styles @witchywolfewood27 @ilovemuppets @rueluvsharry @sunshinemoonsposts @namelesssav @lukesaprince @madybeth21 @groovychaosavenue @fishingirl12 @sortingharryshairclip @tenaciousperfectionunknown @mrspeacem1nusone @cayleyhannha-blog @babygirl-jj @whitemancumslut @xxrosebunny @hsdaydreaminghaze @daphnesutton (I couldn’t tag all of you):
