#Dom!Harry

[freedomfireflies]

You Again*

Summary: The one where Harry is your sister's ex-boyfriend and you finally get to see him again after 5 years.

Word Count: 11.4k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, age gap (6 years), sir kink, choking, use of a toy, exhibitionism if you squint!

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

Your eyes widen as you look up toward the man making his way into the diner. You'd recognize him anywhere. The dark curly hair. The tattoos that bleed through the fabric of his light shirt. The rings on his fingers.

Just like that, years' worth of memories come flooding back to you all at once.

"Harry," you shriek, sliding off the stool before practically flinging yourself into his arms. 

He smells exactly the same. Like teakwood and spearmint. A rather odd mix, yet subtle enough to remind you of home.

Of him.

His chest vibrates with a deep laugh as his arms wrap around your frame to keep you against him, prolonging the hug a minute or two longer than socially acceptable. 

And when you finally lean back to see him, your cheeks begin to warm.

It's been...four years? Five? Since you last saw him? Just days before he and your sister broke up, effectively removing him from your life for good.

It had been a hard time. You wanted to be there for your sister. To comfort her through the grief of losing such a long and meaningful relationship. 

But you wanted to be there for him, too. After all, he was one of your best friends, age difference or not. He had always been the comforting, influential figure in your life that you relied on. That you counted on to get through different hardships in your life.

He had picked you up after your first day at your new job. Had held you in his arms as you cried over your first break-up. He had even listened to you talk about the boy you had fallen in love with.

Losing him felt like losing a part of yourself.

And now, five years later...that part of you has come home.

"Hi, Dot," he beams, reaching out to take hold of your chin and squeeze. "Shit, look at you. When did this happen?"

His eyes rake over your figure and you feel your skin grown hot under his appreciative gaze. "Stop, it hasn't been that long."

"The last time I saw you, I was helping you move into your new apartment across town,” he recalls, arms crossing in thought. "And now...now what? You’re still at your job, I assume?"

"I am. I just got a promotion, actually. I’m an assistant editor now.”

His eyes seem to light up, that soft green sending chills up the back of your neck as you glance down at your feet. "Dot...that's amazing. I'm so proud of you."

You wave the compliment away. "Thanks."

"Really," he insists before following you back to the counter where you'd previously been sitting. "I know how badly you wanted to pursue a career in publishing, and this...this is really amazing. Do you like it?"

"I do," you tell him as you settle back onto your stool. "Yeah, it's really nice. The people are great, the work is fun. Plus, the promotion came with a raise."

"That's amazing," he sighs, head shaking like he can't believe it. "Really, that's so...I honestly can't believe it. I can't believe it’s been so long. You’re so…adult now.”

You snort to yourself as you twirl your straw around your milkshake. "Yeah, I know. Though I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not.”

"You should." He smiles, and it's big and beautiful. "You’ve always been grown up. Even before, you were mature for your age.”

“Well…yeah. I was twenty-three. That does make me an adult.”

“And now you’re twenty-eight.” He shakes his head again. “I can’t fucking believe it.”

You glance down at the rim of your glass. He’s right, it almost doesn’t seem possible. It feels like only last week that you were following him and your sister around town, begging to be included. Traipsing after them to bars, the mini golf course, and to any and all dates. Even though you knew your sister couldn’t stand it.

But Harry was nice and always inclusive. After all, he was your friend before he was your sister’s boyfriend. And he was determined to make sure that didn’t change, no matter how many times Atta rolled her eyes.

"I don't know how you put up with me," you finally admit. "God, I was so annoying. Atta used to get so mad at me for never leaving you alone."

He shrugs one shoulder up. "You weren't annoying to me. I liked it. I mean, I liked that you still felt so...safe? Around me? I guess?"

"Yeah, I did.” You smile. “Honestly, I think you were my best friend.”

He laughs as he looks back over. "I better have been.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Cause you were mine.”

"Good."

He smirks. "Remember how you used to fall asleep on my shoulder every time we watched a movie?”

"That's right," you groan, burying your face into the palm of your hand. "See? Annoying."

"Not annoying. Cute."

"It was not cute, it was annoying. And you know she hated it.”

“I don’t care. She fell asleep on my shoulder, too. It was nice.”

You snort. “It was weird, let’s face it. But I swear I've outgrown such habits."

He seems to hesitate for only a moment, eyes flicking between yours. "Too bad."

A beat.

You feel your stomach flip as you look away, breaking you both free of the tension. "So...what, um...what brings you to town? I was a little surprised to hear from you."

He takes the cup of coffee the waitress had poured him and slides it closer. "Oh, yeah, I'm...I'm here on business. And I remembered you lived here, so...I thought I’d reach out.”

"I see."

"Yeah.” He hesitates again. "And...I missed you."

You can’t fight the flutter in your chest. "I missed you, too, Har."

The conversation lulls as the busy diner continues to bustle around you. And despite how glad you are to see him, something feels...off. Different.

You aren't sure what. Can't quite put your finger on it. It almost feels like it used to, but something has changed. He looks like your Harry. He sounds like your Harry. He feels like your Harry. And yet, he feels like a stranger.

Maybe it's because it's been so long since you've seen him. Maybe it's because you aren't twenty-three anymore. Or maybe it’s because now he’s no longer Harry, your sister’s boyfriend.

Now he’s just…Harry. Your old friend.

When you notice the way he’s staring, your eyes narrow. “What?”

"Nothing." He shrugs again before chuckling under his breath. "No, nothing. Sorry, I just...I don't know. It's just...so strange to see you again. Like this."

"Like...this?"

"Yeah. Just us. Alone. No Atta.”

“Ah.” You swallow. “Right.”

“It’s not…weird, is it? I mean, it is weird but it’s not…uncomfortable, right?”

“No,” you rush to assure him. “No, I wanted to meet you. What happened with you two has nothing to do with me.”

He glances down at his lap. “Right.”

There’s an edge to the memory that wasn’t there before, yet despite your curiosity, you bite your tongue.

“What about you?” you say instead. “What have you been up to in the last five years?”

He smirks. “Oh, not much.”

“Uh-huh. You think I’ve grown up, you’re basically an old man now.”

“Yeah, yeah, all right. I’m only 34.”

“That’s still six years older than me, which makes you old.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m serious. You're not that idiot on a motorcycle anymore. Now you say things like, 'I'm in town on business,” and you wear expensive suits, and ridiculous watches."

He glances down at the aforementioned object on his wrist. "In my defense, this was a gift.”

“Sure.” 

“It was,” he insists. His eyes flick over your face. “Look, I would have reached out sooner, but…after we broke up, I figured you wouldn’t want me to. I mean, you had just started your new job, and I knew it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to be a side, so…”

“There were no sides,” you argue softly. “You both just…grew apart. You wanted different things.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a sigh. “But I know it hurt her. It hurt me, too. And it was weird having to say goodbye to all of you. And leave all those memories behind. You were both such a huge part of my life."

"Yeah," you whisper. "You were a huge part of mine, too."

"Does Atta know you're meeting me?"

"No. Didn't really think it was any of her business. This is about us, not her."

His brow raises. "Would she be mad if she did?"

"I don't know,” you admit. “Probably not, but...would it really matter?"

"Of course it would. I'd never want to get in the way of your relationship."

"You aren't," you insist. "Look, she's dating somebody anyway. And I'm sure you are, too. You've both moved on. We're just...old friends catching up, and she'd have to understand that."

He seems to consider this before saying, "Yeah. I'm not, though."

"You're not...what?"

"Seeing anybody," he clarifies, tongue coming out to swipe across his bottom lip. "Haven't really dated anybody since she and I broke up."

"Oh, Harry," you murmur. "I'm...I'm sorry—"

"No. No, don't be," he insists. "It wasn't...I've just been busy. Working at the firm and renovating my house. I've gone on some dates but nothing serious. I just...haven't met the right person, I guess."

"The right person, huh?" you muse teasingly as you take a sip of your drink. "Okay, and what does Harry Styles' right person look like?"

He exhales an amused chuckle. "God, I don't know. I don't really think I'm that picky. Just...anybody I can get along with, I suppose."

"That's it? No, 'They need a fat ass and the ability to make me a sandwich?'"

He grins so big, the corners of his eyes crinkle. "For fuck's sake. No, nothing like that. Look, I don't know. Call me old fashioned, but...I think sometimes you meet somebody, and you can just...tell. You know? There's this energy, this shift. You look at them...and it all just makes sense.”

And as he looks you, waiting for you to consider this…the air shifts.

"Yeah," you agree quietly, allowing your attention to fall down his features and land on his lips. "Yeah, that's...you're right."

He seems to notice the way your focus has wandered because he quickly clears his throat and looks back down at his mug. "What, um...what about you? I'm assuming you're seeing somebody."

You look away as well, willing yourself to calm. "Oh? And why do you assume that?"

"Come on," he nearly snorts, eyebrow cocking. "Look at you. You're beautiful and you're smart and you have this effortless ability to make anyone around you feel good. Who wouldn't want to date you?"

"Well...pretty much every male in the city," you retort. "I don't know. I've tried dating but...there's always something missing. It never really feels quite right."

"Yeah. I know what you mean," he hums. "There's this...disconnect. Like you're forcing something that you know isn't right."

"Exactly! It's not that I don't want to find somebody, I just...haven't. It's not as easy as it is with you."

His head tilts. "With me?"

"Yeah, you know," you sigh, hands waving about the air as you try to explain your point. "I haven't seen you in five years but we still, just...picked right back up, you know? As if no time had passed. We're still just us. We can talk, and we can laugh, and we don't have to force anything."

He nods. "Right."

"I mean, honestly? Sometimes I think it would be easier to date somebody I already know. The problem is that all the guys I know are assholes. And too immature, I guess. They've got no sense of purpose, no drive. And it’s not like I need to be taken care of, but…it’d be nice to know they could. You know?”

"Yeah. You need someone with a good head on their shoulders."

"Exactly. I need someone who feels more like an equal than this thing I need to take care. I want to date a man, not a Tamagotchi."

He laughs again and the sound brings the butterflies back to your stomach. You feel proud to have amused him. And even more proud of the way he casually places a hand on your arm as he takes a deep breath. 

When he lets go, you look down at the spot on your skin as if you can still see outline of his fingers. 

"You'll find somebody," he tells you, and you do your best to ignore the sparks dancing up the back of your neck. "You will. And they'll be perfect for you. Old enough to know better and wise enough to do it right."

You place your palm over the spot he once touched, squeezing it gently. "Yeah. Hey, and you, too. Anybody would be lucky to have you."

His eyes linger on yours. "Yeah?"

You smile. "Yeah."

The next few minutes are devoted to sharing stories about your families. He asks how your parents are, you ask about his. He tells you about his job and you tell him about your roommate. You recall every detail of the past five years, and once you've finally caught up to today, he pays for your drinks, and offers to walk you home.

You make your way along the busy streets of the city as Harry tells you that he's thinking about getting a cat. You laugh and tell him that he'd make a wonderful cat dad, and he seems to flush.

You wonder why.

Fifteen minutes later, you're walking up the steps to your building, already apologizing for the messy state of your apartment before he's even stepped foot inside.

He snorts the implication away, assuring you that no matter what, it can't be worse than how Atta used to keep her place.

And the mention of your sister breeds an odd feeling in your chest. Unease, and this strange tinge of jealousy. Like you're almost peeved at him for bringing her up. For reminding you that he's seen the inside of her room before.

But you shake it away as you push the door open, refusing to linger on the thought.

"Well...this is it," you declare, stepping aside to let him enter. "Probably looks smaller than you remember, but…it does the trick.”

He takes a moment to glance over your knickknacks and decor before he grins. “I love it.” 

"Really?"

"Yeah." He shoves his hands into his expensive coat pockets and nods. "Yeah, really. It feels...fitting."

"What do you mean?"

"I don’t know. It just feels like you.”

Your teeth gnaw on the inside of your cheek as you walk to the kitchen. "Well...thanks. I think."

You offer him a glass of water, to which he declines, before you join him back by the door. You're not sure that you’re quite ready to say goodbye, but you know he can't stay forever.

You wonder if you actually want him to.

You wonder if it would be so bad if you did.

"This was…really nice," he says as he takes a half-step through the doorframe. "Really, Dot. I'm proud of you. And everything you’ve done. And I'm really glad that I can still call you my friend after everything."

Your heart starts to pound a little harder inside your chest. "Yeah, me too. I really missed you, Har. I hope we can catch up again soon."

The side of his mouth curls up as his eyes soften. "I'd like that."

With that, he moves into the hall, and you close the door behind him.

The feeling that follows is...strange. Overwhelming. Like something is wrong. Like something has just been ripped away from you. 

Like something is missing.

You feel on edge. Off-balance. Confused and unsure and you have no idea why. There’s a pain in your stomach that wasn’t there before and a hollowness in your heart that didn’t exist before you saw him.

Suddenly, there's a sharp knock on your door. "Dot?"

He's back.

Confused and slightly excited, you swing it back open to find him braced against your frame. He’s quiet as he studies you, brows woven together in what appears to be deep thought before he strides back inside your apartment and begins to pace your floor.

"Okay," he begins. Strained. "Okay, tell me...tell me this isn't just me. Tell me this isn't just in my head."

You shut the door.  "What do you mean?”

He looks at you before frantically gesturing between your two bodies. "This. This thing we’ve been doing all afternoon. Tell me it's not just me. Tell me you feel it.”

And you're almost certain you know what he means, but the implication of it scares the shit out of you.

So, you simply tilt your head. "Har...feel what? I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Us.” He stares at you. “Us, there's something...there's something different here. Something that wasn't here before."

"Like...?"

"Like...like the way you look at me," he says, eyes on yours as you feel your heart begin to race. "You never used to look at me that way."

Your lashes flutter, and suddenly, you feel acutely aware of the way you've begun to gawk at him. Have you been looking at him differently?

"And the way you speak to me," he continues. "Talking about needing someone to take care of you. Someone older. Someone...more mature."

You swallow.

He takes a step closer. "And all day, you've just...you’ve found a way to brush your hand against mine. Or your arm. And you laugh at everything I say, even when it isn't funny. And I know you. I know this can't be what I think it is, but...you gotta tell me I'm not going crazy. You have to tell me it's not just...me."

And you realize now that you have an easy way out. You could brush off the accusation and tell him that it is just in his head. That he's your sister's ex-boyfriend, and he's your friend, and that you would never make a pass at him.

But then you say, "…what if it wasn't just you?"

He goes still, lips parting as he leans back. Almost as if struggling to understand what you've just said.

Truth be told, you're struggling to understand it yourself. You hadn't realized just how differently you'd been acting toward him. Or that you’d begun to wonder what would happen if he was your Harry instead of hers.

Because he’s not hers anymore. He’s just a man. A very attractive man. With a job, and a house, and enough emotional maturity not to make a fart joke every three minutes.

And it's not your fault that you're starting to see him in a different light. It's been years. Five whole years since you've spoken to him and you're both adults now. Completely different people, and would it really be the worst thing if you wondered what could have been?

"Dot…" he begins slowly, clearly wrestling with what he wants to say, "…you don't…I don't think you really know what you're doing."

You take a step as well, challenging him. "What am I doing?"

"You're...you're—" His fingers find the bridge of his nose as he squeezes. Hard. "Fuck, Dot. Don't…don't do this—"

"Do what? Flirt with you?"

His palms fly to his ears with a wince. "Stop. No, you didn't...you didn't say that. You're not flirting with me. You're not flirting with me—"

"What if I am?" you retort, following after him with a surge of confidence you didn’t realize you had. "Why would that be so wrong?"

"Because,” he scoffs, shooting a stern look your way. "You’re Atta’s little sister. And we’re friends. And you’re basically a child—"

"I'm not a child," you remind him. "I'm twenty-eight. I've been making capable decisions for quite some time now—"

"But not this," he hisses, the muscles in his neck straining. "Not…shit. You can't do this. You can't—”

"Why not? You said it yourself, there's something different here—"

"But not this—"

"Why not?"

"Because…you're you," he huffs. "You're...you're my best friend, and my ex’s little sister, and I’m…I’m just this big, bad man come to ruin you.”

And somehow, the idea goes straight to your cunt.

"You're not ruining me, Harry," you say, even though you wish he would. "We’re adults. Old friends catching up and realizing that maybe things can be different now."

He takes in a breath. "But they can't be. They can't be different—"

"Why—"

"Because it's not right—"

"What's not right? What?" you argue. "Is it just the age difference? Is it Atta? Is it that you aren't attracted to me, because I know you were flirting with me, too—"

His entire face twists into a grimace as he inhales sharply and presses his hands back over his ears. "God. Don't say that—"

"You were," you insist. "Like it or not, I'm not the little girl you used to know. All right, and there's...there's nothing wrong with us testing the waters—"

He steels himself, arms dropping back to his sides. "We can't."

"Why?" you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time. "Why can't we? Huh? We're not breaking any rules. We're not doing anything illegal. I don't see what's so wrong with just trying—"

"I'd ruin you," he says again, with so much conviction that it makes your stomach drop. "I would ruin any chance you had at a normal relationship—a normal life. All right, being with me...it would complicate everything. And I'd never do that to you—"

"I'm not asking you to marry me. I'm just asking you to try—"

"Try what?"

"Try seeing." You take another step, making sure you have his full attention. "Just…try seeing if what we think is here is actually here. If maybe we were meant to find each other again after all this time. If this is where it all finally makes sense."

He considers this for a moment. Considers you. And you aren't sure when you suddenly became so enamored by the thought of Harry, but you’re here now. And he’s here. And there’s a shift.

And it feels right.

Then, his head begins to shake. "No. No, I know better. I have to know better. I have to do better than this. I can't...God, I can't believe I'm even...no. No, you mean too much to me for me to ruin this."

You feel your chest deflate as your lips press into a thin line. And you stare at him. You stare and you see the indecision and anguish on his face. You see the way he wrestles with the idea you've given him. The way he wrestles with himself.

The way he wrestles with you.

You don't want to push him. Because you know this is something you can never take back. And maybe there's just too much adrenaline in your veins right now. Maybe you aren't thinking straight, and once he leaves and the moment passes, you’ll wonder what you were so worked up about anyway.

But right now, all you feel is disappointment.

"Fine," you whisper, and his eyes soften. "No, fine. You're right. You're right, this is...I never should have said anything. I was…confused. I was just happy to see you again and I thought it was something else, but…you're right. It's nothing. And I don't wanna be your mid-life crisis. I just want us to be friends again.”

Your tiny apartment falls silent as you both settle onto this conclusion. As you let your heartbreak dangle in the air.

Then, his fingers between to flex and his teeth begin to grit, and watch in real time as he starts to change his mind.

Then, he murmurs, “Oh, fuck it.”

Next thing you know, he's closing the gap between you, taking hold of your face and kissing you hard.

You don’t have time to process it. Don’t even care to process it. But you don’t care. Because everything makes sense now.

So, you feel him. Surrender to him. Indulge in the dominate pull of his hands on your jaw as he takes a taste of you on his tongue. As he presses his hips so hard into yours that you feel your knees go weak.

You make a noise in your throat as he goes deeper, and he growls. Like he's fighting himself. Fighting the urge to take as he begins roughly walking you back until you’re slammed against the wall.

He knows exactly what he's doing in a way that younger men never have. He makes you feel both taken care of and somehow, still completely helpless. You don't have to think about anything with him because he does everything. 

He presses his strong, tall frame into yours until he practically disappears into you. His large hand grips onto the back of your neck as you whimper, taking control of the moment—of you—until the only thought left in your head is just more.

And you don't doubt that he'd give you more if you asked, but before you can, he pulls back, and puts the moment on pause.

You feel breathless. Dejected. Wilting in his hold as he meets your eye and looks for your reaction.

But he won’t find it. And you bite back a whine as you wait for him to come back.

He sweeps his thumbs along your cheek before sighing to himself. "Dot..."

You feel your stomach turn at the nickname. At the way it comes out raspy and desperate. "Don’t say it."

But he does, anyway. "We shouldn't do this."

"I know," you murmur, fingers disappearing into his hair while he seems to nestle into your touch. "I know, but I want to. I want to, Har. So…please don’t make me lose you again.”

Another beat passes before he groans and presses his forehead to yours. “God,” he nearly growls, and the sound makes your thighs squeeze together. “Dot—”

"I won't tell," you promise while his jaw clenches. "I won't, I swear. I'll be your secret."

Just like that, the hand he placed on your thigh tightens. Squeezing until you're squirming beneath him. He’s losing his conviction and you’re losing your patience.

"This is wrong," he mumbles. "S'wrong, Dot. I can't do this to you. Can't do this with you...I can't...I know better. I have to do better.”

You tug on his hair as you straighten up, whining beneath a strained breath. "I don’t want you to do better. I want you to do me.”

He exhales deeply with this, nose running down the side of your face as his lips travel to your neck. He seems to take refuge there, subtly pressing kisses to your throat as he thinks. "I want to," he tells you softly. "You have no idea how badly I want to. How badly I want to do everything for you. Show you how a real man fucks. Until you see stars.”

"Har," you just about gasp, anxious to have him do just that. "Please...please—"

"Fuck." His thigh slots between the both of yours and you writhe against him, searching for anything you might find. "Be so easy to take you. Be so easy to show you what you're missing. To wreck you until you’re begging for more—"

"So do it," you plead, pulling on him until his mouth meets yours. "Do it, Har. Please. Just once. Just once, and I promise I'll be so good. Be so good for you. Won't ever ask you again—"

His hold on you grows more determined before he's ripping you away from the wall and slinging you toward your bed a few feet away.

He’s on you in seconds, hovering about where you lie as you greedily grab for him. "Promise me," he hisses as his palm slips beneath your shirt, and a needy whimper bleeds from your throat. "Promise me that this is what you want."

"I promise," you repeat quickly, arching into his touch. "Promise—"

"Promise me...that you'll be good," he says next, fingers brushing over the material of your bra. "That you'll behave. That you'll do exactly what I tell you."

"Yes," you breathe, eyes falling shut.

"Fucking promise me..." he continues as he scratches down your chest, "...that you won't tell. That you'll be my dirty little secret. That you'll be mine. That you'll let me ruin you and that you'll fucking thank me for doing it—"

The last domino falls. Crashes to the ground as you tug him down to you so you can kiss him. So, you can prove your loyalty. Prove that this is everything you’ve ever wanted.

You feel him smile.

"You little fucking minx,” he purrs.

Your skin warms as Harry's stunned but unceasingly enthralled gaze lingers on the red lace of your underwear. However, his fingers move instead for your hips. His hauntingly empty touch ghosting across the fabric of your underwear as you anxiously await contact.

But he doesn't give it to you. Not quite, not yet. He just wants to look at you. Wants to drink you in. Allow himself the privilege of seeing what he never has before.

"Did you wear these just for me, little one?" he asks in a gravely drawl, eyes flicking up to yours from where he lays between your thighs. 

You swallow as you look across your stomach at him. You're not sure why you picked out this particular set today. Perhaps it was a subconscious choice or perhaps destiny was simply on your side.

"Maybe," you murmur, nails curling into your palm as you work in shallow breaths. God, you need him to touch you. Need him to do something about the mess that's sitting two inches in front of his face.

The very same mess he's pretending he doesn't notice.

Your response encourages a smirk as he hums and glances back down at the little white bow placed delicately in the center. "S'cute, Dot," he says softly, pinching the ribbon between his thumb and forefinger. "Fucking precious, actually. Knowing you got yourself all dolled up. Just to see me."

He pulls his lip between his teeth and glances back over your face. He's amused by the weary and desperate expression you wear and you're two seconds away from groaning.

His touch moves down. Down, down, down until the pad of his finger brushes over your clit. 

You tense before releasing a shaky exhale. 

Satisfied with this reaction, he moves even lower. Until he finds that growing wet patch that's beginning to hurt.

"What's this?" he coos, looking down toward the darkened red fabric. "Oh, darling...s'this for me, too?"

You're not sure where your quippy attitude from before has gone because now you can do nothing but nod mutely as you shift beneath his hand.

"Yeah?" His eyebrow raises as he grins at you. "Is this what has you so anxious?"

You give him another nod.

He hums. "Think I need to see for myself, hm?" He smirks and pats his palms against your hips. "Take these off for me."

You quickly reach down to hook your fingers around the hem of your underwear and drag them down your thighs. Once they've been pulled from your body, you get ready to toss them onto the other side of the bed. But before they can be flicked from the tips of your fingers, Harry snatches them with his fist.

"Uh-uh," he tuts as he tucks them into his suit's breast pocket. "These are mine now."

You suck in a sharp, eager pant. "Har—"

"Shh." He settles back onto his stomach, hands curling around your thighs to guide them apart and allow him a better visual. "M'busy, little one."

But it’s nearly impossible to stay quiet as his warm breath fans across your pussy, making the mess that much more obvious to you both. In fact, you can practically see the glistening reflection in his eye as he studies your cunt in the most intimate of ways.

You're not sure what he wants. What he's doing or planning or thinking. And you don't know why, but the way he stares at you does more for the apprehensive coil in your gut than him actually touching you has.

Finally, he makes another satisfied noise deep within the back of his throat before he brings his fingers back to you.

Two are placed just above your clit before he teasingly drags them down. However, when your hips buck up, he merely shoves them back down with a tsk.

Once you’re still, he starts again. Easing himself through your folds as he spreads you with the utmost glee. Fascinated by the way your body feels, the way it reacts to him.

His tongue sits between his lips as he ventures down, and the moment he finds the pooling of arousal waiting for him...you see the muscles in his neck contract.

"Darling…" The nickname is whispered across your body as he scoots closer. "Bet this hurts, doesn't it?"

"Yes," you reply instantaneously, straining around the singular word as you resist the urge to whimper. 

He circles the tip of his finger around your aching hole, almost as if to test you. "Oh, precious girl...how long, hm? How long have you been in so much pain?"

Truthfully, since you hugged him at the diner.

"All day," you say aloud, hands gripping onto the duvet beneath you. "All day, Har. Been thinking about you all day."

And that is the honest answer. You'd been anxiously awaiting your meeting from the moment you woke up.

But he smiles as if he knows better, despite the way he seems to bask in your response. "All day, hm? And what were you gonna do if I never came back? Were you just gonna sit here and rub your pretty thighs together?"

Your heart skips while your hands gather atop of your stomach.

His brow raises. "No? Well then how were you gonna take care of it, hm?"

For a moment, you think this is simply rhetorical, but the longer the silence stretches, the more obvious it becomes that he expects an answer.

You swallow the odd lump in your throat. "How do you think?"

"Uh-uh," he chastises again. "I wanna hear you say it. Want you to tell me exactly how you were gonna fix this little problem of yours had I not been here."

Your head flops back against the pillows as you glare at the ceiling. He's always been rather infuriating but now he's a menace.

"Dot..." He's warning you. Calling you back. Urging you not to be so bratty.

With a tentative sigh, you look back at him. "My...vibrator."

He perks up. "Yeah?"

You nod faintly. 

"Tell me how," he instructs next, jutting his chin toward you. "Better yet...show me. Show me how you've been taking care of yourself all these years."

Feeling rather embarrassed under the spotlight of such an intimate request, you shyly look over toward your nightstand and outstretch a hand. After pulling the drawer open, you slip inside and find the purple wand that's just small enough to fit snugly inside your palm.

And Harry watches with a certain wonder in his eye as you bring the dainty toy closer. Yet, he says nothing while you slowly guide it toward your stomach and down to your thighs.

But he does, however, shift in order to make room, scooting back by a hair to allow you the space you need to place the head right above your aching clit.

For some reason, doing something so private in front of him feels...odd. Strange and almost unsettling. And perhaps that's just nerves, but you can't deny the heat that rushes to your face as he looks between you and the vibrator.

"S'this it, then?" he murmurs, a hint of teasing laced within the remark. "Don't even have to turn it on?"

Your thumb taps against the power button, a nervous tic, although you refrain from switching the toy on just yet. "No..."

His smirk is borderline haughty. "Then what do you do, little one? How do you use it?"

You say nothing. You hold his stare, and you hold a deep breath, and you hold the wand to your glistening cunt.

Then...you flip the switch.

The soft, dainty vibrations echo across the room, across your bodies, and across your clit as it's met with the instant stimulation of the pulsating wand.

You choke on a gasp as you return your eyes to the ceiling, allowing for the feeling to take control of each remaining sense.

And as you do, Harry's hands make themselves known to you as they begin to smooth up your legs, helping guide your thighs further apart once again.

There's an ever-so-slight stretch that follows as your muscles are pulled, and the distinctive burn makes your lashes flutter shut.

"There you go," he whispers. "So pretty, darling. God, could watch you do this all day."

Truthfully, you imagine you’re quite a sight. After all, you’ve watched yourself before. You know how it looks. Know exactly the kind of visual fantasy Harry is witness to right now.

So, you play it up, give him a show. After all...he's got a front row seat.

You rotate the head slowly, circling down and around your hole before retreating and dragging the object back up and through.

And you shiver every time it brushes against that particular sweet spot. Every time the pulses slow just to speed up once more. It's almost torturous the way your body is being bent to such salacious desires. And cruel the way you're forced to do this while he only watches.

A whimper slips free, and you arch off the bed, pressing the toy as tight against your body as you can stand.

You hear Harry chuckle. 

"Easy," he warns before you feel his fingers curl around your wrist, encouraging your grip to relax. "Take it slow, Dot. Not in a hurry, are you?"

"No," you breathe, head shaking zealously. "No, m'just...feels good."

"Does it?" He almost sounds surprised. "Hm. Interesting. Seeing as you're doing it wrong."

Your head lifts.

He glances toward the vibrator. "May I?"

You nod.

Pleased, he slips the toy free from between your fingers and clears his throat. Focused eyes landing on your body as he readies the bullet. 

Then...he begins.

It meets your clit—an innocent, familiar touch—before it's instantly being dragged down. He's slow with it. Giving you enough time to feel each particular flutter and twitch. 

Your soft gasps and grateful sighs carry him further, until the tiny head of the toy is swimming through your arousal. You fall still, attention locked on the man by your knees. 

But he’s still focused. Soft, green eyebrows weaving together as his pretty cherry lips stretch into a smile.

Something changes—everything changes—when he slips the head inside. Your entire body ripples from the vibrations as you stumble over his name and squirm across the mattress.

He only laughs before placing his arm overtop your stomach to keep you cemented to the bed. "None of that. Stay still for me."

"Har," you whisper, depleted of any strength. "Please..."

"What, little one? What do you want?"

"I need...please, I'm..."

"What? Does it feel good?"

"Yes. Yes...yes, feels so good. Please..."

"Please what? What do you want, sugar?"

More. Everything. Anything. "Fuck, I'm—don't stop. Please don't stop."

"Oh, darling," he breathes. "I'd never dream of it."

He takes the toy out and moves it back to your clit, circling gently a few times before pressing down hard. 

And you almost miss the full feeling it provided as it was eased into you, but before you can dwell for too long...Harry's extending his fingers and slipping them into your cunt.

Not one, but two of those beautiful digits push past your walls and begin to stretch you, ripping a gasp from your throat at the simultaneous stimulation. 

"Attagirl," he murmurs from below, and you can hear the smug undertone. "That's what you wanted, hm? Needed something to fill you."

Your chest heaves, the red lace of your bra lifting and falling as you roll your head back. "God, Har—"

"Tell me, darling," he continues, easing himself out just to push back in. "Were you gonna use your own fingers? If I wasn't here? Gonna ride your pretty little hand?"

You can't tell if he already knows the answer or if he just wants to picture your hand between your thighs.

Either way, you pant out, "Mhm."

"Yeah? How many, honey? How many were you gonna use?"

"...two."

He tsks, seemingly disappointed with this answer. "Just two? Hm. And would it have felt like this, darling? Would they be able to do it for you the way mine can?"

To accompany this ask, he curls upward, nearly yanking the pleasure out of you as you choke on a cry and writhe away from him. 

"Fuck—" Your teeth tug on your bottom lip. "Shit, Har—"

"Is that a no, then?" He thrusts his fingers out and back in again. "Would you have gotten yourself this wet...with just your own hand?"

The sound of him slipping through your arousal meets your ear as you groan and look down.

"No?" He adds a third finger while making sure to keep the wand of the vibrator exactly where it needs to be. "What about when you thought of me? Would that have done it for you, sugar? Thinking of me while you soaked your sheets? While you dripped down your knuckles as you fucked yourself?"

You've never heard a man talk to you this way. You already knew his experience superseded that of any man you'd been with before but this. None of those other boys ever knew how. But Harry...God. He knows just what to say. Knows exactly what you need to hear, and it overwhelms you.

"Har...Har—"

"Need an answer," he reminds you, but when you refuse to offer him one, he takes himself away. His fingers, the toy, his body. Leaning away completely as your pussy goes completely quiet.

"Harry," you just about moan, pushing up onto your elbows to leverage the playing field. "You...I'm...I was just—"

"Disobeying," he answers for you. "That's what you were doing. And I don't think that's fair, do you?"

You frown. You know this tone he's taking with you. Authoritative and condescending. It makes you huff. "Fine. I'll try again."

"Good girl," he murmurs, nodding at you as if to encourage confidence.

"I...wait, what was the question again?"

He smiles at this, releasing an amused chuckle beneath his breath before crawling back to you. His hands find the mattress beside your hips and he settles between your parted thighs, lips dangerously closer now.

And you can smell him. Smell his cologne, and his aftershave, and his shampoo. Can feel the heat radiating off his body, even through the expensive suit. Can see how much he wants to take care of you—ruin you. As promised.

"Do you get yourself this wet...when I'm not around?" he repeats, and the tip of his nose brushes against yours.

Your breath hitches. "No."

The answer was always obvious, but you know he needed to hear you say it. 

"Do you touch yourself...the way I touch you?" 

"No."

"Can you make yourself come the way I can?"

"God, no—" you gasp before taking hold of his face and smashing his mouth against yours.

His lips are perfect and his kiss is perfect and the two of you are perfect together. A connection so seamless, so effortless...it's as if you were always meant to be.

A ridiculous notion, you think to yourself, but right now...it's quite nice.

He pulls himself back just enough to meet your eye and offer a devious grin. "Then let’s find out, hm?"

Rough fingertips travel up the length of your inner thigh, forming goosebumps in the wake. You shiver, ready to receive his touch once again before he dances right past your cunt, and up your hip. 

He moves for the lace on your chest, tugging on the wire between your breasts with a disappointed tsk.

"I want this gone," he decides, plucking it from your skin. "Need to see all of you, Dot."

And before you can even reach back to undo the hook, he's looping an arm underneath your back, lifting you up, and flicking the clasp free. 

Once done, he yanks the bra down your arms and body before flinging it somewhere behind him.

Your eyes shut as your naked chest is revealed to him, heart hammering against your ribcage.

But then, you feel those lips again. He wraps his mouth around your left nipple before you can even whisper his name, sucking on you as though he's determined to make you see stars.

Which you do the moment his teeth pull on the sensitive skin. And you can't help but mewl as his tongue flicks cruel and merciless patterns against before moving for your collarbone.

He groans as he goes, situating his knee between your legs and pressing it directly against your cunt. His other hand gropes at your right breast, kneading at the tender flesh until his mouth reaches your neck. He nips at a vein just below your jaw and you arch up into him, chest knocking into his.

He sucks sweet bruises into the curve of your throat before licking apologies over the newly ruined skin. It's slow and painful and beautifully good.

Everything about him is beautiful and good.

His entire body seems to cater to yours as he cages you to the mattress and easily pulls whimpers from your throat. As he touches you, and pleases you, and knows you in a way nobody else ever has. 

You grind yourself against his leg before glancing down. And that’s when you notice the way your arousal has begun to soak through his nice pants. The way a dark little patch seeps into the fancy—and expensive—material. A sight both erotic and humiliating.

Your whimper forces his eyes to where yours reside, and he smirks when he sees your mess.

"What's the matter, little one?" he asks, taking his hand from your tit and using it to grab onto your jaw. "Are you embarrassed?"

You nod, despite his hold.

"Oh, my dirty little girl,” he hums. “I don't mind you soaking my trousers. But I'd rather you soak my cock."

You'd rather that, too, and you're more than grateful when he leans back to undo his belt. You don't know where this will lead you. If you’ll fuck him and then lose contact for another five years. 

Or if you’ll fuck him and change everything.

But right now, you don't mind. You'll happily exist in this moment with him. In these bad decisions until you're coming so hard, you forget your own name.

He leans back to begin ridding himself of his clothes and you scramble upward to help him along. Your greedy hands grab at his jacket and his shirt, wrestling them down his arms and off his broad chest. Wanting to see him the way he can see you.

You nearly moan when his inked skin is revealed to you. You knew he'd gotten a few tattoos in college, and even some a bit after. But seeing them now, painted across such a tan, toned canvas makes your head spin.

"Easy," he laughs, reaching out to swipe his thumb beside your mouth to collect the pooling drool. "Save some for me, hm?" 

But you can't. Instead, you take his finger between your lips and bury it beside your tongue.

Surprised, his lashes flutter. But once you realize he won’t be able to undo his pants without both hands, you regretfully pop his digit free. Allowing him to slip out of his briefs until his cock springs free.

He’s…perfect. Still. Somehow. Red and swollen and leaking just for you. And you clench from the mere thought of having something so beautiful inside you.

You crawl closer, eager for a taste, but Harry simply grabs hold of your chin.

"Yes, little one?" he murmurs, using his other hand to hold his cock. "Did you want  something?"

You nod and lean forward another inch.

"All right," he concedes, pumping himself before subtly tugging you down. "Just a taste, honey. Since you've been so good."

He leads your mouth to him and without a moment's hesitation, you outstretch your tongue, and drag it along the underside.

You revel in the way you feel him twitch. In the way he exhales a deep breath through parted lips while moving his fingers to your hair, guiding you closer but not too close. Just enough to get him on your tastebuds.

You hum when you reach the tip, eager to indulge in the pre-cum already beading in pearly drops. And the vibrations from your eager appreciation make the muscles in his stomach quiver as he curses your name.

However, you barely get the chance to wrap your mouth around him before he's yanking on your hair, and straightening you back up.

"What did I say?" he hisses. "Don't be greedy, Dot."

"I'm sorry," you whisper, swallowing the bit of him still lingering in your mouth. "M'sorry, won't do it again."

"No, you won't. Or I'll go back on my promise."

"No," you whine, needy fingers wrapping around his wrist to keep him close. "No, won't do it again. I promise."

You know he’s amused with your desperation, and even though you're slipping fast, he can't help but be entertained. "We'll see, little one."

With a fervent motion of your head, you scramble back to the pillows to lay down, legs spreading as if to invite him in.

He smirks as he strokes his cock a time or two more while settling himself between your thighs. You imagine he could have you in a number of ways, a plethora of positions. But he chooses this. He chooses to see your face this first time. To see every ounce of pleasure etched within your features.

And truth be told, you don't mind. You could stare at him forever.

"Do you have any condoms?" he asks next, dipping down to press his lips to yours for only a second. "Or would you prefer to go without?"

You consider this. You're on birth control and you do have a bit of a creampie kink, so you shake your head. 

"Without," you answer quickly before lifting an eyebrow. "Unless you'd like to?"

"No," he chuckles, placing a kiss to your nose this time. "Just wanted to make sure. Promised to take care of you, and that's what I plan to do."

Your heart flutters.

"Okay, gonna need you to be good, honey," he tells you now, large palm landing on your hip to steady you. "Gonna need you to take me and do as I say, all right? And I'll make it worth it."

"I will," you agree quickly, fingers traveling up the dips in his arms, ghosting over each muscle until you reach his shoulders. "Be so good, Har, promise."

"Uh-uh." His hand smacks against your inner thigh in warning before his thick eyebrow cocks up. "S'not my name, darling. Not right now."

Curious as to what he might mean, you study him for only a moment before you realize.

"I'm sorry, Sir."

Just like that, something in his demeanor switches. 

Truth be told, the name doesn't do much for you. But you revel in the way he feeds off it. Find absolute euphoria in the way he lights up at your obedience until you want nothing more than to please him again. To call him anything he wants as long as he keeps looking at you like that.

"Good girl," he growls beneath a deep breath before he's bringing his cock closer.

He starts by dragging it along your clit, making you jolt and buck before his hand splays across your stomach to force you back down.

"No," he says simply, eyes fixated on the torture he's currently implementing. 

He does it again, letting your swollen, puffy clit jump from the slight brush of his tip while he drags it through your arousal and shifts forward.

"Breathe," he orders next, stealing a quick glance at your puckered lips and wide eyes. “All right?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He slides in slowly, pushing past your tight walls, coaxing the muscles to stretch to his size.

At first, it's nothing more than a soft, easy sensation. Relaxing, in a sense as it aids the ache and fills the void his fingers left behind.

Then...he goes deeper. 

And this is what you'd been waiting for. The slight tension and subtle burn as your body is forced to accommodate him. You're thankful he goes slow. Not just because of the pain. But because you both want to watch.

You want to watch the way he pulls your body apart. Wanna watch him disappear into your tight hole that pulls him in. Wanna watch the way you flutter and clench and claim him the way he’s claiming you.

"Oh, that's my fucking girl," he groans to himself. "Fucking hell, Dot. Didn’t think you’d be so tight."

"Yeah, well…never had someone like you before," you tease, gauging your body's reaction by slowly rolling your hips up. 

"Yeah?" His hand lands on your throat, smoothing up the sides of your neck until he can squeeze a gasp from your lips. “Never, huh?”

You shake your head and with one quick thrust, he bottoms out, forcing a strangled cry as you arch into him.

“Never had someone stretch this pretty pussy the way it deserves, yeah?” He tsks again. “What a fucking shame.”

He rears back, and the pain and the pleasure that follow him out make your chest cave in.

However, he’s quickly driving himself back in before you can complain, pushing past the fluttering muscles once more as you keen and rake your nails down the blanket.

"Harry," you breathe, his name like a lifeline as you drown in his sin. 

But it earns you another firm smack to your outer thigh as he grunts his disapproval into your neck. "No," he warns before nipping just below your jaw. "You know better."

But really…you don’t. "Sir...please," you amend.

"Hm. S'a good girl," he praises. "Knew you'd behave for me, yeah? My perfect little toy—"

A rather debauched moan rips from between your gritted teeth as his hips ram into yours. You can feel him everywhere. In your stomach, in your head, in your heart. His legs against yours, his chest against yours, his entire body against yours until you're almost convinced he's gonna become one with your bloodstream.

Not that you'd mind.

His arm slips beneath you once more in order to lift you up and provide him with a new angle. Then, he thrusts himself into you again as your mouth hangs open in a silent gasp for air.

"There she is, that's what you needed. Yeah, little one?' He does it again, brushing against that one spot that makes your toes curl. "The other boys never did it, did they?"

You whine, knees bending besides his hips as you attempt to follow after him when he pulls back. 

But he's quick to tut and knock you back down onto your ass. "No. You don't rush me, darling. We do this my way. On my time. If I wanna stay here and fuck you nice and slow, then you’ll behave, and you’ll fucking take me.”

You’d like to agree, but he’s thrusting himself back in before you can.

"You will thank me for taking my time," he continues in a coarse cadence that seems to reverberate from his chest. "You will thank me...for being so goddamn good to you. And you will thank me…for doing it right."

"Harry, please—" you just about wail, hands finding his arms as you grasp on for dear life.

But the fingers around your throat tighten until the edges of your vision begin to blur.

"There you fucking go again," he growls, stilling his rhythmic attacks as he meets your eye. He seems to enjoy watching your focus go fuzzy. "Starting to think you like to be punished, hm? And here I thought you had a praise kink."

You clutch onto his wrist, nails scratching along the veins in his arm as he pounds into you at a harder pace.

But you don't mind. You enjoy watching him give into the voices inside his head. Enjoy the way his chocolate brown curls sweep across his forehead, the way his eyebrows weave together and the muscles in his jaw constrict.

For a 34-year-old man, he seems to possess quite a bit of stamina. He'd mentioned earlier his enjoyment for running and exercising, detailing his rather excessive and diligent routine.

And you'd smirked because you'd assumed he was showing off or because he was trying to stay ahead of the inevitable "dad-bod" in his future.

But now you understand why he's really so meticulous. He's a long way from looking his age. Apart from some subtle, but soft crinkles near his eyes and a few gray hairs that peek through the auburn waves, he looks rather youthful. 

And his body. You swallow another noise as you let your hungry gaze trail over every inch, every muscle, every quiver in his thighs as he braces himself above you.

Sir feels like a more appropriate title to you now. Because he is. He is your superior in this moment A man to be respected and revered. Someone who not only knows better,.but knows you. Knows your body and how to play it like an instrument. 

There's something exciting about submitting to him. Something tantalizing about being at his mercy. Most of the other men you've been with have felt more like your equals than anything else. Which you haven't minded in the least bit.

But the way Harry has managed to fit you into the submissive, subservient role so quickly suggests that perhaps...this is where you were always meant to be.

Beneath him.

"Oh, honey," he coos, a mix of condescension and amusement. "Can feel you squeezin' me. Need it so bad, don't you? Need to come, hm?"

"Yes. Yes," you whisper, nuzzling your face into his neck, lips eagerly pressing into the salty skin at your disposal. "Please, Ha—Sir. Please let me come. Can't...can't hold it—"

"You will,” he says before he’s grabbing hold of your wrist and hosting it above your head. Burying into the pillow and preventing you from reaching for your clit. “Forget it, Princess. Told you to take me. So you will. Exactly how I tell you.” 

"Sir—"

"I said no. I plan to keep you here for quite some time. Plan to feel you coming around my cock as many times as I see fit. And I expect you to behave for me the way you promised. Can you do that? Or do I need to stop?"

"No," you gasp, tears springing to your eyes at the very thought. "No, no, please—"

"Then what are you going to do?"

You swallow a moan and lift your chin proudly. "Take it."

A pleased smile crawls across his face as he hums and dips down to press his mouth to yours. "There she is," he murmurs, nipping at your bottom lip. "My good girl. Try to remember that, yeah? Or I'll keep you here all day."

However, that’s something else you wouldn't exactly mind, and you shiver as he pushes your knee into your chest.

"Fucking hell, Dot," he mumbles, eyes falling back down to where you're coating his cock. "Oh, my perfect toy. Look at the way you treat me, honey. Treat me so well, fucking soaking me, aren't you—"

"Yes, Yes, please…"

"I know. I know, little one. Feels so good to be filled, yeah? To be fucked the right way—"

"God, yes. More...please—"

"More, huh? Need more? Need me to make it better? Need me to fucking take—"

Suddenly, your phone rings.

The soft, melodic chime cuts through Harry’s vulgar response, bringing the moment to a close as his thrusts falter and he glances over.

God, you hate that stupid, evil, sadistic machine. Right now, you wish you'd never bought it. You wish you could throw it again the wall until it shatters into a thousand fucking pieces so as long as he just keeps going.

Instead, he searches your nightstand for the small device before he's releasing your leg in order to reach for it. 

"No, Har," you plead, attempting to grab onto his hand. "Just let it go to voicemail, it's fine—"

"But that wouldn't be very polite, now, would it?" he tuts, glancing over the screen. "And I think you need to take this, darling."

"Harry, please—"

"Shh," he says sharply. “You're gonna take this phone call and you're gonna use your word. And then, and you're gonna come for me."

His thumb hovers over the green button and he guides the phone to your ear. 

"And you're not gonna make a fucking sound," he adds, dropping his voice to a threatening hiss before pressing the receiver to your ear. "Or I fucking stop. Do you understand?"

You do your best to nod, and he smiles before tapping the screen.

Through a slight quiver, you say, "Hello?"

"Hey! Long time no talk, babe. How are you?"

Your eyes just about pop out of your head.

Atta.

Her cheerful tone and eager greeting make the blood drain from your face as you look up at the man hovering above you.

"Speak," he mouths with a wicked grin while nodding his chin at you. 

But you can't. You physically cannot get the words to come out of your mouth as Harry keeps the device glued to the side of your head.

"H...hi," you stammer, forcing a more confident cadence. "I'm...good. How...how are you?"

"Oh, I'm good. Good, yeah," your sister replies, and you hear a bit of shuffling. "Been working a lot. Got today off, which is nice. God, you'd never believe how much shit we have to go through since we changed our filing system—"

"Mhm," you reply right as Harry rams his hips into yours.

You gasp and quickly turn your head away from the phone in an attempt to keep the excitable noise from making it into the microphone. 

However, he uses his other hand to grasp onto your jaw and force you back. "No," he whispers, shooting you a stern look of warning. "You know better."

"—which is wild because we've been using the same program since '08," Atta is saying, although you can hardly hear her over the imminent pleasure rushing through your veins. "But...whatever. Once we're done, it'll make things so much easier. Which will be nice. I can cut back on my hours—"

"Yeah, mhm," you repeat, and it's outrageously strained as Harry pulls himself out, leaving you depraved and so goddamn empty.

You have to fight the urge to cry out for him, glancing down at the string of arousal that follows his cock. And it's almost too much for you to handle as you greedily reach for him once more.

However, he bats your hands away and brings his free fingers from your chin to your clit, rubbing into the sensitive nerves until you arch up.

"—so, yeah. What about you?"

Your eyes squeeze shut as that tightly wound ball of pleasure in your stomach expands. "I'm...I...good. I'm...good. You know, not...not a lot going on. At the moment."

Harry smirks to himself before sinking all the way back in and thrusting up.

Your lip fights its way between your teeth and you writhe beneath his chest while praying for the strength to stay quiet.

"Well...I guess no news is good news, yeah?" she chuckles. "Oh, hey, speaking of which...I heard that Harry's in town."

That's not the only thing he's in. 

"Oh?" you squeak, placing a palm on Harry's chest almost as if in retaliation. "He is?"

"Yeah. Saw it on Facebook," she answers, and you hear her move around. "Figured he might try to reach out. I know you guys are still on good terms, right?"

"Me and Harry?" you repeat pointedly, garnering a curious look from the aforementioned man. "Uh...we're...yeah. I guess. But we’re not…that close."

He grins.

"Well...I just thought I'd let you know in case he does," she says, and your lashes flutter shut as the guilt begins to find you.

"Would it be weird...if he did?" you ask before the patterns being traced against your clit make you whimper.

Terrified, you quickly cough in an attempt at burying the sound, but Atta doesn't seem to hear. 

"I mean...maybe? I don't know. He and I are fine, I think. And I know you two were friends. I guess you could at least...check on him. Make sure he's doing okay."

"Yeah," you breathe, sneaking a glance up. "I'm...I'm sure he's doing just fine."

Harry smiles once more before moving his palm to your thigh and pressing it into the bed to spread you at a different angle. 

"I hope," Atta sighs. "Anyway, I wanted to call and check in. Just to make sure everything is going okay for you—"

"Mhm, yeah. I'm...I'm glad you did," you blubber while attempting to send Harry a pointed look. You're close. So fucking close, and if he keeps going...

"Are you sure you're all right? You sound a bit flustered—"

"Yes. Yes, yes, I'm..." Your head shakes quickly, nails scratching down Harry's chest in warning. He needs to stop. He needs to stop or you won't make it. "I'm fine. I'm...a little under the weather, but I'm—" 

Suddenly, he sheathes himself inside your cunt, face burying in your neck with a groan as your entire body shivers.

"Are you sure? You kind of sound like you're in pain—"

"Listen, Atta, I...I gotta go—" you gasp, so close to your orgasm that you can practically taste it. “I’m sorry—”

"Oh, yeah. Hey, text me, okay? Just let me know that you're all right—"

"Mhm, yeah, I will—fuck—"

It happens before you can stop it. Ripping through every muscle and fiber in your body as you rake your fingers down Harry's back and choke on a moan.

Thankfully for you, Harry has already ended the call and thrown the phone to the other side of the room so he can loop his arm beneath your hips and tug you up into his body.

"Go," he breathes. "Give it to me. Come on, little one. Just like that. Good fucking girl, just like that. Let me feel you—"

Your room fills with the sound of his name, dancing effortlessly between the whimpers that follow.

It feels like you've touched heaven. A sensation so overwhelming and euphoric that you don't even realize his hand has returned to your throat. Don't realize he's squeezing your neck in his tight fist as he comes, filling your cunt with everything he has to give you.

You don't even realize you can't breathe, but you love it. Love the way he presses his teeth into your shoulder and presses his body into your chest. Until you're trapped against the mattress while you live through the high. 

Every joint in your body aches. Radiating pain and pleasure all at once as you hook your leg over his hip and snake your arms around his neck.

And you keep him inside of you for what feels like hours. Even after you've regained a bit of consciousness. And a bit of common sense.

Perhaps the moment he pulls out, you'll realize the mistake you've made. You’ll realize that this isn't a secret you can keep. Or a choice that you can ever choose again. And maybe he’ll realize it, too.

But until then…

You’re happy to have your Harry back.

~ Masterlist

Taglist: @littlenatilda @prettythingsworld @heartateasee @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @monicaalexandraaa

@cinnamonone @triski73 @lemoncrushh @vamprry @lady-lamb21

@lillefroe @kirstiea05 @ribbonknives @lunaharrygurl @harringtonhundreds

@swiftmendeshoran @sundresstyles @eldahae @becauseheartsgetbroken-hs

@hannahdressedasabanana @sykostyles @lukesaprince @daphnesutton @love-letters-to-uranus

@lovrave @nuggetdean @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @babegoals @lc-fics

[hesbunnies]

✨️ here's a list of my favorite harry styles smut one-shots ✨️

@hsunrry

• assistant

• safe word

• moustache | moustache 2

• pretty boy

• don't leave me

• new side

• best i've ever had

• water whale

@gurugirl

• she likes to watch

• truth or dare

• says who?

@watchmegetobsessed

• flatmates

• good morning

• good girl

• tastes like strawberries

• an acean away

• all yours

• dogs or cats

• costume

• nervous

• edging

• my best girl

• next door

• wet dreams

• cover up

• delicious

• make ger regret it

• even if it takes forever

check out all my lists here!!

[thecuriousbeauty]

rough sex, size kink, daddy kink, multiple orgasms, etc. (don't judge me, I'm ovulating) ah, and I also love your writing

Rough- Harry Styles x reader (Smut blurb)

A/N:- Hey anon, thanks for the request! So sorry it took so long, I was on a little holiday:) Hope you love this!

Warnings: Everything in the ask! Pure filth. Smut. Fingering, degradation, light spanking, penetration(p in v), choking.

Word count: 1.6K

______________________________________________

You had pushed all his buttons. And now, he was fuming as he drove back home with you, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

To be fair, it was Harry who had to ditch your plans together because a meeting came up. He had been so busy lately, and he’d promised you that he’d spend the whole day with you. Although it wasn’t his fault, he didn’t hold up on the promise and he had to go away till the evening. Of course he apologized and told you he’d make up for it, but you decided to tease him a little in return.

When Harry was back, he wanted to take you to a fancy dinner but you said you just wanted to go out for drinks and that’s what you did. You wore a short silver dress that hugged your curves beautifully and the length stopped just right below your ass. You didn’t talk to him on the way. As soon as you got to the club, you went to the dance floor and started swaying your hips and your ass. Harry leaned on the bar stool, looking at you. 

He understood that you were pissed, so he just kept quiet. Until, you started flirting with another guy. It got so intense, he started rubbing against your ass from behind and you just giggled, enjoying how Harry’s eyes were burning as he watched it. He walked to the dance floor and threw the man off of you by his collar.

“Woah! What the hell man?”

“Hands off my girlfriend.”, Harry growled at him, and you tugged on his shirt. “Harry!”

“Geez I didn’t know she’s taken!”

And that’s how you were now sitting in the passenger’s seat of the car, arms folded across your chest while he drove you home. Harry didn’t say anything, which only made you anxious. Had you taken it too far? You just wanted to get him angry enough so he would rough you up a little. 

You were gonna rush up the stairs and to bed but Harry wrapped his hand around your hair, tugging it back, making you wince. “Not so quickly, sweetheart. You think I’m just gonna ignore that little act you pulled?” Harry’s deep voice rasped in your ear. 

“Y-You were being mean to me.”, you pout, gasping as he tugs you to his body, wrapping an arm around your waist and tightening his hold on your hair, making you lean your head back on his shoulder. 

“I was not. I apologized, I told you I’d make up for it. But no, you had to go and be a brat to get my attention.” 

As much as his hold on your hair hurt, you couldn’t help but smirk at how riled up he was, and you could see in his eyes how badly he wanted you. 

“Well guess what, baby? You’ve got all my attention now.” He dips his head down, lips finding the sweet spot on your neck and you moan softly, moving a hand to his hair to tug on his luscious soft curls. His hand moved from your hair to lift up your dress and land a smack to your ass.

You jerked forward, but his arm around your middle kept you in place. “Did I tell you could touch me?”, he asks, gripping the flesh of your ass. 

“No daddy..”, you moan, loving the sting from the slap but also how wet the thought of a punishment made you.

“That’s what I thought. You are not to speak or touch me until I say so, got it?”

“Yes.” You nod, yelping as his hand comes down again on the same spot he hit. “Yes, daddy.”, you correct yourself. 

He hums, yanking down the zipper of your dress and pulling it down your sides. “Fucking short little dress, putting on a show for everyone. Don’t worry, daddy’s gonna remind you who you belong to.”

He tugs off your bra before cupping your right breast and connecting your lips. You moan into his mouth as his tongue explores your mouth, and you’re tempted to touch his body, snake your hands under his shirt, feel his sculpted body under your hands. 

“Daddy..”, you whined, feeling his hardness against your ass. 

“I don’t think you deserve my cock. You were being a little whore today, weren’t you?”, he taunts, pinching one of your nipples.

“Sorry daddy, let me m-make you feel better.”, you say, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

“Shut up.”, he gives your breast a light slap before his fingers pull on the material of your thong. “This fucking thing barely hides your pussy.” He ripped it off, making you gasp. He was quick to stuff his fingers into your mouth, and the two fingers of his other hand slipped into your wet hole.

“I didn’t even do anything and you’re dripping wet.”, he says, sciscoring his fingers inside of you at a fast pace, making you squeal around his fingers in your mouth. He pushes them in further, hitting the back of your throat making you gag and your eyes water. 

“I think you forgot who owns your pussy. You’ll let daddy destroy your little pussy, won’t you?”

You nod fervently, your saliva sputtering around his fingers. He curls his fingers inside your vagina, hitting your g-spot repeatedly. “Fucking little slut. Do you want to cum?”

He removes his fingers from your mouth and presses his hand to your lower stomach, keeping you in place as you squirmed. Your legs were shaking and you weren’t sure how much longer you could stand. “Y-Yes daddy.”, you cry out, your toes tingling and your vision already going blurry with the amount of pleasure.

“Ask nicely.”, he hisses, biting your ear lobe. 

“Please, p-please daddy I’ll be good, please let me cum. I-I’ll be your good girl, I’m s-sorry!” You scream as his thumb applies pressure to your clit, rubbing quick circles. “Go on, cum all over daddy’s fingers.”

By the time you’re back on earth after the amazing orgasm you just had, Harry has you on the couch on all fours, giving you barely enough time to recover as he slides his cock inside your sensitive pussy.

“Shit, always so tight.”, he curses, fingers digging into your hips. “Daddy’s gonna fuck you like a whore. I know that’s what you like.”

You scream as he starts to thrust his hips, his cock hitting deep inside you. It felt so good. He filled you up incredibly. His huge dick came crashing into your walls and you could do nothing but cry out in pleasure. 

“You think that guy has a bigger cock? Can he fuck you like this? Make you cry?”, Harry leans down to ask in your ear. You can’t answer, your vagina trying to envelop him and at the same time, press him out. 

“Answer me.”, he gruffs, one of his hands coming up to wrap around your throat and lift your face up. 

“N-No, no daddy..”, you whimper and choke as he pulls up your upper body by your neck, and he adjusts himself so his cock hits a deeper angle. “Who’s the only one who can fuck you like this hm?”

“You, daddy. Y-You fuck me so good..” You were nearing your release again. “M-May I cum? P-Please daddy?”

“Yes.”, he slaps your ass, hard. He moans and throws his head back in pleasure as he feels your warm juices coat his pulsating dick. He’s flipping you around onto your back, holding your knees apart and slamming into you again.

You whine from the over sensitivity. “D-Daddy I-I can’t..it’s too much.”

“You can, you’ll take it like a good girl. I know you can.”, he says, looking down at your stomach to see the dent his dick was making from inside. His eyes move to your face, looking at your smeared mascara and plump red lips, then moving to your breasts. 

“So fucking pretty like this.”, he says, bending down to brush his lips against the corner of your mouth. “You can touch me, baby.”

Your hands immediately travel to his hair and his back to pull him closer to you. You were already as close as you could be, but you wanted him impossibly closer. His curly hair was messy and cheeks flushed from your activities, but he looked beautiful.

“I-I love you.”, you whisper, and he kisses you. You cling to him as he was the only solid thing around you, and he was the only one whom you trusted with your entire being. “I love you too, sweet girl.”, he whispers and presses his forehead against yours.

“Want your cum inside me daddy, fill me up.”, you say, clenching around him as you know he’s close.

“Fuck, just like that, baby, you take me s-so well.”, he moans. You cum again from the feeling of him filling you up, and Harry collapses over you as you both recover from your highs. The only noise in the room was of your heavy breaths.

Harry lifts his head to look at you, your closed eyes fluttering open as he taps your cheek. “You okay darling? Was I too rough?”

“I’m okay, it was p-perfect. Just tired.”, you tell him, smiling softly as he presses a sweet kiss to your cheek “I’ll run you a bath, get you something to eat and then we can go to sleep.”

You hum. “Sounds good.”

Harry stroked your cheek with his thumb. “Hey, I really am sorry about today, love.”

“It’s okay! All forgiven after that.”, you giggle and he grins, shifting to lay beside you so he could pull you into his arms. “Maybe I should make you angry more often.”

“Oh yeah?”, he smiles amused, pressing kisses to your face as you laugh. “My naughty little minx.”

______________________________________________

Taglist:-@livypops12352568 @harrydeary, @harryswifee, @harrysbxtchh, @gracelovesethan, @kiwitsayedsugar, @angeldavis777,@madstyles3204, @youngpastafanmug, @fruity-harry (Lemme know if you want me to add your name to the taglist!)

[1800titz]

HI. This is the pornstar!AU (Tiger Harry). Enjoy :D

CONTENT/WARNINGS: face-fucking, anal play-ish, Sir kink, general manhandling, light dom-sub dynamics

WC: 8.6K

“Are you open to raw anal?” is probably not a statement Y/N had …entirely expected to hear when she’d agreed to discourse over pastries and dirty chai lattes. 

It’s a pretty good one, all things considered, and asked with complete professionalism, according to their careers and the open, apathetically businesslike expression shaping the features of her counterpart. Y/N takes a sip of her latte. It is quite a good latte. He wasn’t wrong there. 

Harry blinks. 

It’s very on brand, despite the way she’s sure one of the baristas has definitely twisted around from the dishpit, side eye discreet …but there. And in the barista’s defense, she couldn’t even blame her for eavesdropping on the sordid contents of their public discourse. Y/N isn’t going to turn around and look. 

In Harry’s, he didn’t exactly shout. 

The man across from her takes a slow sip from his latte. Good latte, very good latte. 

She can’t help but admire his varying assortment of rings as he cradles the cup, irises winding from the blocky, golden S to its chunky counterpart, the H. So many times she’d admired those hands, those ring-clad fingers traipsing over bare skin, just the tips meddling over abdomens and winding circles around navels. Those digits sunk into the hair of his partner, tangled into the roots as he manually bobs her head over his cock. Those fingers twisting over the pink tip of his shaft, lining it up before his hips pump. Those long fingers splaying over cunts, swiping a thumb to ogle in front of the camera. 

There've been so many instances where Y/N had wondered the significance of that H and that S. And it’s been really quite simple all along.

Should I call you Tiger in person, then? she’d tapped out over the LED keyboard, days prior when they’d only been discussing the prospect of a meet up. Days prior, before she’d flown out for an on-camera collaboration, to bask in the sunlight of California, to enjoy overpriced dirty chai lattes and oddly promiscuous dialogue in the corner of a cafe. 

I think I’ll just take Harry when the cameras aren’t rolling x, RideTheTiger had messaged back. 

Anyways, it’d probably be a sleazy, poorly-executed one liner (and consequently, a horrifically red flag) in possibly every other circumstance, but this isn’t a first date and RideTheTiger has, thus far, been the furthest thing from sleazy. Even paid for her dirty chai latte, practically shouldering her out of the slot at the register. Pulled her chair out for her, asked about her traveling fares prior to delving into said anal topic. It’s all been fairly gentlemanly. Very business-partner-coffee-meeting. 

“No condom,” Harry tacks on, like it’s clarification for the raw segment of raw anal, as if it actually needed some sort of clarification. 

Y/N takes another sip. Damn good latte. 

“I like it,” the young woman tells him, clearing her throat on this edge that implies she’s mindful of her volume. Somehow, even as a freelance pornstar, she still hasn’t quite managed to get over the awkward degree of shame that a public setting incites. “I like the...” 

That barista is definitely fucking peering over.

“…The mess,” she settles on, because anal creampie doesn’t feel like a term to be said with her whole chest over a guava pastelito. 

For a short moment, Harry just watches her, jade roaming and the corners of his mouth slowing seeping into a simper, like he knows brazenly discussing anal creampies in the middle of a cafe — not quite packed, but still a cafe — has her kind of squirming in her seat. He takes another drink. 

“She’s got airpods in,” the man tells her eventually, forest-y irises jolting to something behind her head — the barista that’s clattering about behind the counter. And if she’s listening in, she’s probably going to go home and find one of them online, or ultimately both, and probably subscribe. 

The tension in her shoulders melts away the longer he grins at her over the lip of his lid, dimples indented in the flesh beside the upturned edges of his mouth. It’s just what they do for a living. It’s just sex. It’s just talking about the sex they’re going to have on camera. 

There’s bells and whistles to it, too, but it beats sitting at home and answering phone calls where angry customers screech all tinny through the headset and don’t comprehend the words, “Sir, if you can’t use your inside voice and talk to me like a civilized human being, I’m not going to be able to resolve your issue.” For Y/N it is. At least she gets a couple of orgasms out of this. 

“Sorry,” she tells him, shoulders slumping, “I think I’m still not— I get …weird talking about it in public settings.”

Tiger gives her this careful look over, eyes amused. 

“S’okay, I understand. If you’d rather get into the details back at mine, I’m okay with that.” 

“No, no,” Y/N protests, motioning out with her free hand, almost like her frigidly humiliated disposition will turn him off from collaboration, “No. It’s just, like. Sex work— it’s— it’s 2024. Nothing to be ashamed of.” 

Harry blinks. He gives her another one of those slow, knowing grins with his strawberry mouth. 

“No, seriously. We can get into the …rough drafting in a more private setting.” And then he takes another casual, horribly nonchalant sip, “I get it.” 

The man splays back against the chair, the hand not clutching at his beverage laid against smooth bamboo varnish, the nails there neatly manicured and painted with a soft shade of green lacquer. Y/N wonders what that particular color would look like with a glimmering top coat after he’s sunk the digits in between her thighs. She casts her gaze back up to his face. 

“I just figured I’d ask because we exchanged tests last week.” 

Clean as a whistle, RideTheTiger, (appropriately renamed in her contacts as Harry Tiger OF collab), had messaged on a Tuesday afternoon. That text was tailed with an HDR attachment of paperwork detailing his clean-as-a-whistle results, for proof. And the polish on his nails, fingertips gripped over the edge of the sheet, had been a pretty sky blue in the picture. 

She’d wondered the same thing, then; what OPI’s Rich Girls & Po-boys would look like glazed with a sheen of her slick arousal. 

He’s just a fuckable man, Y/N thinks, sat back in his chair like discussing sex work scene scripting is a normal mid-day affair, soft dusting of stubble coating his jaw, curls swept up off his forehead. His white tee shrouds the swallows and the inky butterfly she’s seen flexing over his tummy, the laurels that seep into the deep cut of his v-line, but it does very, very little to hide the artistry that litters his arm. 

That same arm she’d seen in videos, wrapped in pumped muscle as his fingers had worked his partner to the brink of bliss at a merciless pace, plush mouth shaping over some sort of filthy croon, dimples indented. Those same hands cradling over his counterpart’s throat with a gentle squeeze, that same thumb swiping messily over his partner’s bottom lip. Those same eyebrows with a crease carved between their furrow, those same curls in sweaty, disheveled disarray from the incessant rake through of his hands as his cock got swallowed up by a pretty, swarthy-skinned brunette, or maybe a blonde. A curl that’d flopped over his forehead in those videos, hardly hiding a rivulet of sweat that’d dripped from his hairline, is neatly tucked back under designer shades, now. 

Designer shades he’s bought with his dirty porn money, because despite his spiffy, clean boy, seemingly innocuous demeanor, RideTheTiger is dirty, dirty, dirty. 

Because under his warm smiles and his twinkling jade, there’s an alter ego that lives on the internet. One she’s all too familiar with. 

It makes her chest sort of flush under her sweater. This is happening. This is going to happen. 

The chair creaks a little when he sits up, clearing his throat, “I didn’t want to assume, but. I mean— I’m sure you’ve seen, like, my tips. Is it …odd to say I’m a fan of your content?” his gaze slowly settles from his drink to her face, smooth baritone almost …bashful as plush pink splits into a beam and his words catch on a laugh, “Is that …weird?”

Y/N knows exactly what he’s referring to. They’d been two mutuals subscribed to one another, chunks of profit migrating from inbox to inbox. It’d been like a volley, electric currency bouncing through the expanse of the internet, racket to racket, account back to account, pinging notifications striking on uploads behind paywalls. Only then, Tiger was just a man behind a screen. Tiger wasn’t sitting at a table in front of her, and they weren’t discussing the crude elements of the video they were going to shoot together. 

“Not at all,” Y/N clears her throat and pairs it with a side-to-side shake of her head. 

She’ll never admit that she’d touched herself to the solo session that’d popped up in her DM’s behind a paywall only last week, an automated promotion sent out to all subscribers. The one where he’d been sat in one of those lush, swivel-y chairs in front of his computer, firm thighs splayed and ringed hand tugging over his leaky cock. The camera angle was broad enough to capture his eye contact with the lens, the way his front teeth would nip at his bottom lip, the way the column of his straining throat would go on show as he’d tipped his head back with a groan. 

She blinks, staring ahead as she remembers the way cum had painted all the way up over the panting butterfly. Harry grins from across the table. She half-expects him to brazenly admit he’s done the same to her content. So far, she’s concluded that he’s quite unashamed. 

“Makes it easier to fuck, right?” Y/N says, beating him to the punchline. 

He makes this face then, tipping his head, eyes widening and blinking playfully, mouth curling like he’s appalled by her brazen admission in said public setting. Before the young woman can get flustered by his teasing, he sits back and lets his features relax into something soft.

“Yeah. It does.” 

Harry doesn’t tell Y/N she should wear a plug on the day that they calendar in for shooting. Not while they’re in the cafe. In fact, he waits three whole hours until the very precise moment where she’s using her apple pay at a drive through for the notification banner to swipe down. 

When Y/N steps into his entryway, there’s a wilting cactus stemming from a ceramic basin next to a bowl of keys and varying knick knacks. There’s a pair of dice in there, too. 

“This is Tim,” Harry introduces, unprompted, motioning to the withering plant in passing. 

Y/N nudges with her chin like a sort of acknowledgement, tailing him through the hallway, where a neat array of three framed, abstractly artistic renditions of Kama Sutra positions line the segue. She’s half convinced that the doggy one follows her movement like one of those oddly unsettling renaissance portraits. 

“Very nice.”

It’s a Thursday, and they’ve determined today to be the day that they collaborate. She’s wearing the plug, and she tries to ignore the anticipation curdling in the pits of her tummy as she tails him to the lounge. 

“I think I overwatered him, honestly,” Harry tells her, aimed over his shoulder, “but I can’t bear to part with him.” 

He’s wearing gray sweats, and he’s definitely opted to go commando, if the imprint of his dick when he pivots to face her is anything to go off of (though, whether he’s ditched underwear for the sake of the shoot or solely for comfort, Y/N isn’t sure). All she’s really, actually sure of is that she urgently needs to unglue her eyes from the outline of his cock. 

“D’you want a drink or anything? I mean, I don’t like to do any alcohol before shoots, but if you want, I have seltzers in my fridge.” 

He’s all soft attire — the sweats and bare feet padding over tile, curls a little mussed and swept back. A white tee coats his torso with a cartoonish bee in the center. The words ENJOY HEALTH, EAT YOUR HONEY circle the little piece of outlined artwork in blue. His nails are still green. 

Y/N clears her throat. “Do you have water?” 

“F’course.” 

The kitchen is beside the lounge, and he tells her, as he makes his way over and opens a cabinet to cull a glass, “You can have a seat if you’d like. Figured we’d get the details down before we start filming.” 

His couch is an onyx leather, its form like one of those fancy ones from a 1970s inspired catalog. Y/N sinks into the cushion. She crosses her legs. Uncrosses them. Behind her, the fridge whirs in the kitchen as the water pours into the glass. She’s admiring his fireplace when he stretches the beverage out to her.

“What are we feeling today?” the man winds around to the bend of the sectional, flopping back against the cushions with a sigh as his cotton-clad thighs splay, “…Slow and romantic? Something a little more rough?” 

“Used and abused,” Y/N responds, surprised she manages to keep her cadence as even and nonchalant as she does. The second the statement escapes her, though, she takes a long sip from her glass and hides her simper behind it. 

“Used and abused,” Harry parrots, sitting up a tad as his hands seek new territory from their priorly relaxed splay over the back of the couch. His palms smooth down the fronts of his thighs, instead, and he gives her this little grin; something mischievous that lets his dimples wink alive. “I think I can work with that.”

Yes. She’s certain he can, based on his track record of deviously, deliciously rough content. Three weeks ago she watched a video where his partner was laid out on a table, duck-taped limb to limb, and Y/N had watched his hand — rings removed — roam her body with such delicacy as he drove forward into her. It was all up until the point where the same hand had snaked up around her throat, and then he’d brought it back and smacked her right across the side of her unsuspecting face. It’d sent his partner’s head snapping to the side, and a wave of heat riding through Y/N, coursing through her blood as she’d flipped the vibrator between her thighs to a higher setting. 

Yeah. He can work with that. 

“Since we’re going with that route,” Y/N blinks out from the fog of memoirs circling back to Tiger’s hands exploring and pinching and delivering blows. 

Tiger is much more subdued in this setting. 

“Let’s talk things you’re into, things you’re not so into.” 

The young woman gnaws into her cheek to bridle her grin. “Um. Anal’s a go. Obviously.”

Harry nods, mouth friendly, “Okay.” 

Y/N deliberates. She takes another sip. Harry waits patiently. His green bores into her, and the young woman rolls her lips into her mouth, pupils climbing up to the ceiling as she contemplates. She cocks her head.  

“…Face-fucking. That’s nice. I like dirty talk. I like getting my hair pulled. I like a little bit of pain. You know, like. Spanking. Face slapping, but not, like,” the edges of her mouth cave up, “MMA level—“

The joke culls a huff of soft laughter from him. He nods. 

“Just. General manhandling is good with me,” Y/N tells him. 

Harry nods, his fingers interlocked over his spread knees, and then he sits up a tad. 

“Alright. If we’re going with face fucking, I’m a fan of the trusty tap-tap-tap,” he tells her, motioning with his left palm and patting over his thigh in a series of three as he speaks, “If it ever gets to be too much and you can’t say it, just tap three times, yeah? Just like this.”

Y/N nods. She takes another sip. For a moment, Tiger still has his forearms braced over his lap, but then he sits up a little more. 

“And then when you can say, if anything’s uncomfortable, if you want me to do anything different, just let me know. Doesn’t matter if the camera’s on.” 

Y/N crosses her ankles. She uncrosses them.

“S’all about authenticity. Y’know,” his tongue peeks out to swipe over the plush of his bottom lip, “I don’t wanna be throwing you against the wall or choking you if it doesn’t feel good, even if it looks good on camera. If you’re a clit girl, we’ll play with your clit—“

Her thighs press together.

“If you’re a g-spot girl, we’ll focus on the g-spot.”

She swallows. 

“The throwing against the wall and the choking,” Y/N doesn’t bother hiding her simper as it grows, “Those are good with me, too. And— clit stuff. Yeah.” 

Tiger is hot. Fire hot, like lava coursing and bubbling over rigid stone, even in his soft attire with his soft curls and his soft smiles. He’s got these eyes that feel like they bore through her clothes, but it’s not in an uncomfortably hungry way. 

“What do you… what should I call you during the shoot?” 

His strawberry mouth curls a little. 

“I hear Tiger a lot. M’fine with whatever besides Harry on camera. …If you wanna get a little more into roles we can do Sir. But s’all up to you.” 

It feels like he’s just got this effect — this intense gaze that makes her tummy swirl. It’s not innately an odd shift, going from this entirely professional discourse to soft touches roaming up her sides once they’re in the bedroom. 

It’s the setting for their shoot, and she finds that he’s already got a camera set up on his dresser. One of those that opens up and has a little screen piece that swivels to show what’s currently recording. Harry trails over to it, toggles with the little screen, and, she assumes, begins recording. 

There’s a shag rug by the bed in cream. Y/N eyes it as Harry tugs his shirt over his head, as he makes his way over. Tiger is fire hot, but his touch skims her arm like testing the waters at first. His palms cups her face, the pads of his fingers grazing the sides of her neck, close to her nape, and then his cushiony mouth finds her own. That’s testing at first, too. It’s not a chaste, innocent first kiss by any means, but his mouth is gentle, at first. His hands aren’t hard, and his mouth slots against her own with a kind of tenderness. When her fingers tease up at his waistband, fingering at a warm line of skin between his sweats and his t-shirt, his mouth morphs hungrier. 

“Just—“ Y/N manages between searing kisses as his fingers work the seams of her shirt apart through button-work, “—-jumping right into it, huh?” It’s probably not the sexiest thing to say from the get go of the camera rolling, but she’s honestly still got bits of nerves coiling up in her. This is RideTheTiger. This is happening. She’s going to fuck RideTheTiger. 

Another short kiss, this one she can feel the cushiony pink of his mouth curving up into. 

“Sorry,” Harry amends against her mouth, lips ghosting wetly against her cupid's bow, and the word sounds sort of amused.

And then he’s manually spinning her and marching her over to the dresser, where the camera is set up, her stumbling, rushed gait steadied by the firm press of his thighs from behind as he walks her, colossal hands cupped over her arms. 

“This—” he starts, an introduction blatantly made for the lens, and her pulse stutters when his palm slides up and across and cups over her throat warmly — not quite squeezing, but just there. His other hand explores the expanse of her silhouette from the waist down, pads of his fingers roaming over her tummy, “—is the infamously naughty Birdie.” 

Her veins thrum with something, something hot when the ringed digits traipse to the button of her jeans, just looming over. 

“Can I take these off?” Harry murmurs against the shell of her ear. The tips of his curls tickle at her temple, and she knows he asks it low enough that it’s meant for her. She knows the camera will pick up on it anyways, too. 

“Yeah,” the agreement falls out meshed with an exhale, and her head tips back against his shoulder as his fingers do deft, impressively one-handed work at quick discarding. 

The other hand fondles at one of her tits, only covered with fabric for so long before he takes advantage of the opening he’d made along the line of buttons, pulling at one side for the pink polka-dotted cup of her bra to come out on display. This is all very pro-level disrobing. Y/N decides that when Harry multi-tasks, popping the button of her denim through, pinching at the zipper and tugging down, all still with his other hand caressing over padded flesh at her chest. Ultimately, though, both hands make their way to her hips, and his digits wriggle under either side of her waist band to strip her jeans off, until they rest at about an immobilizing mid-thigh, with an unceremonious yank. 

“I’m Tiger,” Harry talks again, finally, after what’d been a silent moment of apparent concentration, his chin ducked into the nook where her shoulder and her neck meet. 

The man’s fingers toy up under the hem of Y/N’s shirt, wandering over a bare sliver of skin between the top and the line of her panties before they climb the buttoned suture and make work there. 

A chill rolls down her spinal cord, stemming all the way from the nape of her neck, the back and underside of her skull, when Harry declares, almost like she’s not even there, his voice a low and heady baritone, “But, she’s going to call me Sir, and we’re gonna play a little rough with her today, because that’s what she asked for.” 

He’s mid her panting ribcage when the tone in his dialogue switches. It melts from sultry and low to something mirthy when the man sighs and huffs against her neck, like the rounded latches are a long-time nemesis, “Buttons, buttons, so many buttons.” 

Y/N can’t curb the surprised laugh that bubbles from her in response. Her hands rise from her sides (where they’d prior been pretty glued, mostly out of awe and the raw sort of submission manhandling incites), and her forearms brush against his own warm skin as the pads of her fingers shakily work over the stitch he’s on. Harry makes an amused sound into her skin as the corners of her mouth curl up. 

This is real. These are the real moments, the ones that she’s ogled so many times from the other side of the screen, caught on camera mid an otherwise entrancing, perfectly choreographed session of picture-perfect fucking. Like the one where he’d spit and it hadn’t landed where he’d wanted it to, or the one where his partner had spent so long in an angle with her hair over her face and his palm cupped over her mouth, that by the time he’d let up she was spitting out stray hair that’d sunk in past her lips, like a cat with a hairball. Soft laughter had bloomed from the both of them when recognition had dawned, and he’d fingered over her tongue to help her as they’d switched positions. It makes sense why Harry never seems to edit those moments out. 

Authenticity. 

Y/N hopes he doesn’t cut this fragment of the video out. 

“Sorry,” the young woman tells him, her voice garbled with giggles. 

His hands snake up from under her own and they’re the one to pop the final button through. A chilly ring brushes the inside of her wrist. The top separates. 

“There we go,” Harry says, tone colored with enthusiasm, and the way his fingers grip up under the cups of her bra, four for each, and tug abruptly, letting them rest under her freshly-bared tits, kind of, sort of gives her whiplash. 

“Teamwork,” his thumbs slip under either side of her underwear and slink those down until just enough is showing for the eye of the lens. 

Her gaze flits to the viewfinder, and the little icon of her denuded silhouette, pressed up against his chest, one swarthy, inked arm tucked over her ribcage and the sight of his other, ringed digits skimming lower, down her tummy, has her squirming in his grasp. Harry sponges kisses to the side of her neck, and then those ring-clad fingers slide between her legs. Every melty muscle in his arms grows wide awake and tensed like fucking stone. It’s only for a second, before he draws his index and his middle digit, splayed into a blissful V, across either side of her clit. That’s when she liquefies like putty in his hands again, humming softly. 

“…And we’re gonna play with her arse,” Harry tacks on for the camera, almost like it’s an offhand afterthought and not the entire basis of the scene they’ve etched out. 

Y/N laughs, but it melts off into something soft and whimpery when the V lingers and drags. 

“Would you like that?” Harry murmurs, nose tucked into her hair — another comment where the volume implies that it’s obviously meant to be shared between just the two of them — his mouth ghosting over her earlobe and his hand climbing up the ridges of her ribcage like a ladder, “Hm? You want me to play with you there?” 

When his palm expands to rest over the gap between the caging of bone, the space extends out on a breath and she rocks in his touch, hips rolling back subtly. “Mhm.” 

It’s not something he fails to pick up on. The pads of his fingertips expertly toggle at the clasp of her bra — honestly, she’s ludicrously impressed, not only by his keen recognition of the frontal clasp, but this seemingly innate, deft ability to discard clothing pieces with one hand. The straps relax and slip down her shoulders the second the cups fall free and apart. 

“Mhm?” Harry mimics; a low, teasing hum. Y/N thinks then, that this little, patronizing repetition thing he’s got going on could be categorized as a kink in and of itself. 

The palm that’d settled over her diaphragm slinks up to grope at one of her tits. 

It’s kind of game over from there. 

There’s something hard and solid digging into the small of her back, and the longer he spends fondling between her thighs, the longer he spends swiping his thumb over her nipple, the more heat teems to her core, like a glowing warmth that seeps and pulses. The more sure Y/N becomes that his fingertips are definitely culling that top coat she’d pictured all along, enhancing the color there with glinting excitement. 

“There’s a good girl,” Harry purrs when her legs spread a smidge more in response, despite the way they’re nearly glued together with the immobilizing squeeze of her waistband resting mid-thigh. 

The tip of his nose burrows into her hair and grazes at the skin on the side of her neck when his head ducks, fingers sneaking further until the pads press to explore where she’s gushing. His index and his thumb work in tandem to pinch at a nipple and tug. 

And then his tongue licks a practically searing stripe right beside her jugular, and his words send air over wet skin to soothe the flame, “…Getting my fingers all wet, aren’t you?” 

Gameovergameovergameovergameover.

Shelosesshelosesshelosessheloses.

Another burst of air over the wet skin, the soft creak of a chuckle — that’s what reminds her that she’s definitely not breathing. 

Fuck. Y/N sucks in air with a chest tensed like metal armor. His teeth nip over her earlobe. 

And then RideTheTiger slides his slick fingers out from between her legs, coaxing (when she sags in his grip like a marionette that’s had its strings snipped), “Why don’t you give them a little spin and show them the pretty plug you’ve been wearing for me, pet.”

Touch, touch, touch. When Y/N pivots for him, turning her backside to the camera, his mouth brushes the crest of her cheekbone. His warm pecs go flush with her own chest, his palms settle on her love handles and the insides of his rings stipple chills to combat the heat of flesh on flesh. He sponges a kiss to her throat when the young woman throws a glance back to the little screen and shakily presses her palms to the globes of her backside, pulling the flesh there apart to show off the pretty end, silicone petals cradling the shape of a rose. 

That’s when he kneels, cheek pressed to the side of her thigh, when he casts his gaze to the plug with that telltale furrow to his brow bone that she’s seen caught on camera so many times. That’s when his teeth burrow into the pillow of his bottom lip, when he brushes a nearly tentative touch over the plug with the tips of his fingers. That’s when Harry nudges at it and jade bounces from the pallid pink plastic to the shape of her jawline tensing above in response, mouth growing mirthy. 

Nothing prepares her for the way he praises, almost like he’s in awe (and nearly too low for the camera to catch), “So pretty.”

A crease works in between her own eyebrows when his index and his thumb pinch over the plug and twist. And then he lays his thumb over the base and pushes, lightly, as if it can go any further. He draws the pad of his index over the hilt of the plug almost thoughtfully, and then tap-taps in a pair of two that makes her roll her lips into her mouth

“Don’t move,” Harry instructs, after a moment, sneaky, devious fingertips withdrawing altogether. She’s holding her breath again. Y/N readjusts her grip. 

“Just like that,” comes his croon from below, undeniably heady and entirely responsible for the warmth churning between her thighs, “…Just like that, little bird. Show it off, baby.” 

Little bird hits her like a fucking freight train. 

It’s just a play on words, a moniker he’s melded from her stage name, her online personality. It’s been all of, maybe, six minutes — a generous consideration for the timeframe — and he’s already managed to morph her porno pseudonym into a pet name with his soft murmur. 

She’s so focused on the ironic way that such a delicate thing off his tongue makes something so violently carnal stir within her that the young woman doesn’t even notice that he’s been sat near her thighs for a solid second, unspeaking and untouching, besides the paste of his warm cheek beside the press of her hands. 

It’s a suspiciously mischievous sort of silence, but Tiger is no secret-keeper, not when he pats over the back of her leg, a one-tap gesture, and rises to announce, one third amused and two-thirds smug, “Thumbnail.”

The admission is so crude and unexpected that it draws a peal of sputtering laughter from her, feigned indignation meshing with mirth as he rises from the floor, all cocky with an unfairly alluring curl that’s strayed from the rest and flopped to lay over his forehead. 

“You want to use my ass as your thumbnail?” 

Muted raspberry breaks its relaxed line to curve up, obviously self-satisfied and obviously unashamed. Y/N doesn’t think she’ll ever quite keep up with the casual nature of Harry’s mannerisms, not when he hums and his grin splits further, twisting around her to daub her jaw with a kiss.

“…And not my pretty face?” Y/N blinks.

“Last I checked—'' Harry tells her, fingers raking through her roots and palm cradling at her scalp in a way that coaxes chills to bud and roam down the nape of her neck. The digits twist her hair into a bun until his palm is squeezing at her hair all bunched like a flower blooming in reverse, “—You were here to be used and abused, per your request. Not to ask questions.” 

Despite the way he cranes her neck back with the motion, the way it has her jaw unlatching and a surprised exhale full of want escaping, despite the way he drags his teeth down her neck in a line, nipping, Y/N manages to keep her voice impressively even. 

“You don’t want my pretty face painted with your cum as the thumbnail?” she baits, throat bobbing on a swallow. 

He bites. 

At first, his lashline narrows a smidge in obvious inkling that the brazen words have affected him, but then he tips his head and his smug beam morphs more sluggish, more pleased than amused. 

“You want my cum painting your pretty face?” 

“Mm,” Y/N hums in agreement when he turns her head to paste a kiss to the corner of her mouth. 

“Yeah? That’s what you want?” 

His tone is suggestive as he manhandles her over onto the fuzzy rug she’d admired before things got all murky with arousal and …cinematic. Y/N twists in his grasp until he’s nudging her onto her knees with his hands. 

And his voice is low, easy like a sigh, each note interlaced with nonchalance and seemingly effortless power, “Let’s see how good you suck cock.”

Before Harry shoves his waistband down, though, he stuffs a hand into his pocket and culls his phone. He gives her this look down from behind it, thumb tucked behind gray elastic.  It’s this wordless, expressionless sort of seeking; all good? Y/N nudges with her chin, lashes fluttering. Tiger toggles over the screen one-handed, and her eyes flit to the uneven pull at his sweats — if only for a second — that showcases bare skin and the cut of a V-line on one side. As he nudges the sweats off to rest under his balls, the phone pings. It’s the sound of a notification — he’s recording. 

His dick is pretty. Pretty in pink with a prominent vein on the underside and a soft dusting of neatly trimmed, dark pubic hair over his pelvic bone that his happy trail had foreshadowed, and his tip is a ruddy shade that matches the tint of his mouth. She’s seen his cock before, obviously, but ogling it in person rather than as a conglomeration of pixels is a different sort of experience. He’s always looked big on screen, the sheer size of him with a fist over his shaft always implying it. But he’s big. Big enough for two of her hands to cradle over his cock comfortably with the head peeking out from her grip, digits never quite meeting in the middle. Y/N spits into a palm before wrapping it over his shaft, eyes flickering up front under her lashes to meet the lens of the camera. 

“You’re so big,” the young woman admits after a moment, irises bouncing from her grip to the phone looming over, and she drags her tongue over her other palm to cup over him with two like it’s proof. 

And Harry strokes over the side of her scalp, almost like he’s wordlessly scratching a dog’s ears in praise, a soft, pleased huff escaping through his nostrils and his lips shaping over a smug sort of beam that never really unseals. 

Almost tentatively, with her eyes still bouncing from the lens to his cock and back, Y/N leans forward and drags his tip over her tongue. Harry sighs in response, fingertips still hovering at her roots. She purses her lips and lets saliva dribble from her mouth onto his head messily, swiping over the wetness with her thumb, and then she strokes down his shaft with two hands as she wraps her lips over him and draws a circle with her tongue. The subtle, although sharp, inhale she earns in response to the motion has her batting her lashes up at the camera.  

“You’re not shy at all, are you? Not in front of the camera,” Harry says after a moment. 

He’s so obviously bridling a hiss when she drags her tongue up under his leaky tip, his front teeth lodging into the pillow of his bottom lip and brows furrowing. Despite the phone cradled over her face, the young woman still has enough room to observe his. Y/N bats her lashes coyly, pupils flitting back to the camera as her mouth opens to showcase the view of her hands working in gentle twists while she drags his cockhead over her tastebuds. 

“…No, you’re not that shy, little girl that you were in the cafe at all.”

She seals her lips over his tip, hollows her cheeks, and hums. 

“…All prim and proper,” the fingertips that’d scraped over the side of her scalp trail to the back of her head, “…Didn’t even wanna say you liked cum dripping out of you. Didn’t wanna let everyone know that you’re a little anal whore.” 

The words coax her to clench over the plug. 

“…S’okay, baby,” Harry tells her after a moment, “I like that you’re a whore on camera for me,”and then the hand that’d cradled over the back of her skull encourages her own palm to slowly unwrap and fall away as he curls it over his shaft to guide it’s aim. 

Y/N pulls off, and Tiger smears the tip over her spit-slicked, swollen mouth. It parts, and Harry traces over the open seam of her lips like he’s applying lip gloss. 

“Please,” the young woman says, mouthing over his tip, almost inaudible. 

“Hm?” 

“Please,” Y/N repeats, and the drag of his tip slides over her bottom lip on the s. 

Harry inhales from above. He doesn’t immediately give her what she wants, instead opting to draw over her cupid’s bow as he tips his head, voice quiet and still somehow full of a dominant edge. “So polite. You wanna taste more of my cock?” 

The young woman nods, eyes tipped up, and he smears his cockhead over her mouth again. Harry’s teeth nudge into the plush of his bottom lip before he directs, “Stick your tongue out for me. I’ll give you a little taste.” 

And he does. He grazes her tongue with it the moment it’s on show, basking in her soft breaths puffing out against him and the sweet sight of her gaze, unwavering. 

“S’that good?” Harry asks, mouth curling at the (currently) brazenly lewd young woman at his feet, “What you wanted?” 

And she just nods up at him. Despite the way she wants more, the way she wants to close her lips around him and keep twisting her grasp to watch his seams split in ecstacy, Y/N motions lightly with her head. A little sound escapes the back of her throat when he drags the tip of his cock back over her top lip and sighs. 

“You really are such a little whore, aren’t you?” Harry says, tracing along the open seam of her lips with the tip and dragging it over her tongue again, “Give me a pretty smile. Show me just how much you like it.“ 

His words melt off into a rumbly hum when, as he draws over the border of her bottom lip and takes his cock off her tongue, her pretty teeth slowly seep shut and the corners of her mouth form something absolutely overjoyed. Her head cocks, and she grins up at him. All innocuous too, if it weren’t for the head of a cock smearing over the edges of her smile. His thumb slinks out from the hold he’s got over his dick to graze with the pad at the shiny white of her top teeth. 

“Good girl.”

Somewhere around there is when her teeth part and his thumb mingles onto her tongue. Then, the young woman wraps her lips over the digit and sucks. The tension of her cheeks hollowing over his finger in the silence is cut short with a ping — Harry turns the camera off and flings the phone somewhere in the direction of the bed. There’s no definitive thump behind her, so Y/N assumes the man makes it. She hums and pulls off of the digit with a pop and a giggle. 

Dimples pluck alive beside his smile. “Something funny?” 

“No,” the young woman clears her throat, the apples of her cheeks still emphasized and round with her apparent amusement, “Nothing. It’s just.” She blinks up at him, “…Surreal, sort of. Your dick’s just as pretty in person as it is on camera.”

Tiger cocks his head and swipes over her bottom lip with the tip of said dick. She’s quite good at stroking his ego. 

“Thanks. That’s sweet, darling.”  

A furrow works between his brows as her tongue peeks out to daub at the lingering head. “You watch a lot of my videos?” 

And the admission comes almost hungry, with no remorse, “Mm. Touch myself to them.” 

That’s when his brows crease more, when heat swells down through the trench of his tummy and teems up the underside of his balls, where they drive taut at the words. 

“Christ.”

Blown jade bouncing from her lips to the contact of her own eyes and back. Eventually, he swallows and directs, “Tongue out.” 

When she displays it for him, jaw wide, those shambles splinters of composure seemingly fuse. The Harry that emerges nearly gives her whiplash. 

“You touch yourself to my videos?” Harry coos, and the words are coated with so much condescension that Y/N is sure she’d be humiliated in any other circumstance. 

Her tongue twitches under his cockhead. The man looming over swipes that same, leaky tip over her taste buds, and his grin broadens into something like a borderline sadistic Cheshire cat. And then he’s leaning over a smidge, cock still angled over her outstretched tongue, opposite hand fondling under that, at her jaw, and squeezing at her cheeks. 

“That is so—“ emphasizing the words with the slap of his tip against her tongue, Harry grits out, “—fucking—“ another tap that has her uselessly lolled tongue jolting and a garbled little sound wresting from the back of her throat, “—cute.”

Y/N blinks up at him, one hand uncurling slowly and falling away as he nudges the back of her head to swallow more of him in past her lips. 

“Why don’t you use that hand and play with your little clit for me? The way you do when you’re watching me.” 

She makes a muffled noise around him as he sinks in further, and her hand traipses between her poorly, poorly splayed thighs. 

“That’s it,” Harry murmurs, though whether the praise is directed at the way the tips of her fingers pry between her legs or the way she blinks wetly over his cock as she takes more of him into her mouth, Y/N is unsure. “There’s a good girl. Look at me— yeah. Fuck.” 

He holds onto either side of her head, long fingers splaying over her skull, and the young woman splutters when his tip prods at the back of her throat and teases at her gag reflex. The tip of her nose grazes his happy trail, so all in all, it’s a solid effort in one go. Harry holds her there for a moment, relishing in the squeeze of her throat over him as she fights sputtering more, and a throaty groan rips from his vocal chords before his fingers tangle into her hair. That’s when he yanks her off. 

Her chest is already rolling in pants, and the way his palm collides with the fleshy area of her cheek nearly launches her lightheaded headspace into overload. The blow isn’t loud, and it doesn’t really hurt, but he does it a second time, palm grazing over the same fragment of skin. It’s the hand that doesn’t have any rings, and Y/N’s mouth curls up in borderline delirious bliss, teeth unsealed and lips swollen and saliva-daubed. Tiger coaxes a moan when he goes for it a third time. But this time, his hand snakes to palm over the column of her throat and squeeze.

“Fuck, you’re filthy,” Harry tells her, thumb cruising over an inch of skin, “Such a slut for it.”

Her pulse thunders under his grasp. It’s almost like his touch pries the nearly animalistic giggle off her lips. She’s still beaming open-mouthed, and her voice is raw when she beckons, “Yeah—“

And then there’s a ragged gasp and subdued sort of gag, coated with surprise, when Tiger nudges her face forward and unceremoniously shoves his dick back down her throat, his brows pinched.  

“Get that mouth back on my cock.” 

Her hands find his thighs, just wavering over them, curling and unflexing as her eyes squeeze shut. 

“Don’t close your eyes. Look up at me. Look up at me— there you go,” Harry cooes when, despite every instinct that coaxes every muscle in her face to clench and tense, Y/N follows his directions and blinks up at him through a watery sheen. “Shit.”

And then he’s hauling her off and she’s gasping for breath, only for a short moment before he slides back past her jaw until her chin is flush with his sac and he’s pulsing in the warm confines of her mouth. Her lashes flutter. A devious kind of laugh bubbles from him, breathy, and low, and short when the heels of her palms press into the sturdy muscle beneath his laurels. Except this time he doesn’t yank her all the way off for a third time. He holds her there for a second, swearing softly at the view, and then tugs her off until his tip’s on her tongue and pumps back in. It’s a subtle motion — testing, like he’s observing her reaction, really assessing her comfort levels with this. He does it a few more times, as gentle of a motion as it really can be until she squints her eyes shut and muzzles a cough, blinking up at him rapidly through the blur. 

Harry swipes a thumb under her eye, where a rivulet leaks, praising almost in a whisper as she practically vibrates at his feet, “That’s it.” 

Another second to gasp in air, and then he’s fucking her mouth, brushing her gag reflex with every drive forward and every pump out. Y/N sort of loses herself in it — in the fingertips burrowing into her roots, in the huffs and groans that escape him, in the warm muscle beneath her touch, in the way his dick slides down her throat. It’s quite nice. RideTheTiger is fucking her mouth, and it’s nice.

“Look at you,” Harry hums after a while, the hold on the back of her head firm, and she blinks at him all teary-eyed, gagging around him as her chin presses flush with his balls. “So sloppy. Made my nice joggers all wet.” 

Drool pools down her chin, and strings of it dangle from his balls and sully the fabric further. She bats her lashes up at him, and tears slink off from her waterline. Her fingers flex and relax over his thigh, never quite loosening the tension there fully. The man swipes the thumb on his free hand under her eye, where inky black has smudged off from her lashes, and the lewd, left corner of his mouth tips up lopsidedly. 

“You’re such a pretty girl when you’re making a mess,” and then, to nail the demeaning compliment home with the most heady, joyfully smug tone, “Yes you are, little bird.”

His sluggish grin morphs into a borderline pornographic lip-bite then, and he cranes his neck back with a throaty hum, fingers tensing and relaxing, before his digits ultimately tighten in her hair and coax the young woman off. She coughs like she hasn’t breathed in ages, 

Y/N doesn’t know how she gets up to her feet. It’s a lightheaded clamber, coaxed by Harry’s fingers tugging at her hair, his hand on her arm, his definitive, “Get up.” Somehow, though, she manages, despite the fact that her jeans are still half-on, and Harry steadies her and makes her dizzy all at once when his mouth presses hungrily to hers. One hand cradles the side of her neck and the other braces her at the hip. It’s a heated kiss, like Tiger doesn’t mind that her chin is coated with spit, or that the same spit smears over his own jaw as their mouths connect. Y/N nearly trips over her own feet as he walks her, backwards, into the general direction of the bed. The mattress meets the backs of her knees and his hand (which has, since settling on her hip, mingled up her side and cupped over one of her tits) sends her toppling back against the sheets. Harry nearly snickers at her look of indignation. Instead though, he tucks his fingers up under her half-down denim and tugs until her pants are off and she finally, finally has the ability to spread her legs. He tosses those onto the rug, and Y/N watches Harry finish disrobing, kicking the gray sweats into a rumpled pile beside her jeans. 

The camera is still rolling on the dresser, and it’ll keep rolling. It’ll keep rolling when he sinks his face between her thighs, it’ll keep rolling when he pulls the plug out and nudges his fingers in, when he slips his cock into her cunt and then, eventually, switches to her other hole. Or maybe it’ll go in an all different order. Tiger cradles her by the hips and repositions her roughly. The lens doesn’t catch the way she’s all shimmery between her legs with want from its angle, but Harry does, eyes glued there as his fingertips trail featherlight up her thigh and back down. 

A crease works in between his brows like he’s contemplating something, and then he pats the same fragment of flesh he’d been caressing and instructs, “Flip over.” 

Y/N tips over to her side and then rolls onto her tummy, but when she clambers onto her hands and knees Harry beckons, “Where are you going, little bird?” He sighs, warm palm grasping over her ankle and yanking her back towards the edge of the bed, just until Y/N is splayed and forced to shimmy her way back into a pretty arch. “Hm?” 

His hand is still gripped over the joint when the other climbs up the back of her naked thigh, skin on skin petting softly there. “Where are you going, little girl?”  

She’s going to implode. She nearly does when his colossal palms cup either cheek of her backside and spread. He hums like he’s pleased. 

“Which hole should I fuck first…” Harry ponders aloud from behind, but it all feels sort of rhetorical when he nudges over her tightest, little hole, pressing like he’s teasing a breach with the tip of his digit. 

She thinks he must be using his other hand, too, because the pad of his thumb drives a circle over her puffy, spit-slicked clit. The ring of muscle flutters. 

“…Hm?”

[hsunrry]

new side // one shot

harry styles x fem!reader

summary: based on this request.

|| masterlist ||

words: ~1,5k

warnings: smut18+, dirty talking (degradation, praise), dom!harry, hair pulling, chocking, spitting, oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting

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saturdays are your movie nights. as you two were snuggled together on the couch in his apartment, sex scene started playing. you were looking concerned at it, since it was rough and, well… dirty. something you and Harry never tried before. he noticed your expression and he looked at you. “hey, you okay?” his voice soft and caring. he knew himself and his dominant nature, but he never showed it quite yet to you, since he didn’t wanted to scare you off or something.

“yeah, i’m just… i don’t know, we never did it like that before.” you shrugged, trying to not show how arousing this was to you. he looked at the screen and then back at you, his eyes filled with lust. he knew exactly what you were feeling, he could see it in your eyes.

“would you like that?” he asked, tilting your chin up so you’d look at him.

“i don’t know, maybe? i never tried it like that, but…” you bite inside of your cheek. “i feel things when i’m watching it.” his heart raced as he listened to your unsure words. he looked back at the screen again, his eyes lingering on rough sex for few seconds.

“let’s try it then.” he smiled, his thumb tracing your jaw. “if you don’t like it, we can stop.”

“okay.” you smiled, feeling him picking you up immediately and going upstairs to the bedroom, completely forgetting about the movie. he kicked the doors shut behind him with his leg, placing you down on the bed right after. he climbed on top of you, his hands roaming over your body possessively. he leaned down, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip.

“whenever you feel uncomfortable or you just want me to stop use the word ‘red’, okay?” you nodded quietly at his words, seeing something switching in his eyes at that, causing your body to get even hotter. he growled softly, his hand fisting in your hair and pulling your head back to expose your neck. he licked and bit at sensitive skin, leaving marks. his other hand roughly groped your breast through your shirt. small smile appeared on your lips when he did all of that. he looked at you with fire in his eyes, his touch growing more demanding. he tore off your shirt, buttons flying everywhere. his hands squeezed your naked flesh, since you didn’t had bra on yourself. his thumbs brushed over your nipples. “you like that, slut?” you only nodded, your breath getting heavier with his movements. he shook his head, his face darkening. “answer me. you like that?” his hands continued his rough assault, pinching your peaks hard.

“yes.” you gasped. he smiled approvingly. he sat up, taking his t-shirt off and standing up from the bed to unbutton his jeans, pulling them down along with his boxers. his hardened member sprang free. he gripped your arm, making you sit on the edge of the bed. he stood in front of you, his erection mere inches from your face. he tangled his fingers in your hair and gently but firmly guided you closer to it.

“open your mouth, slut. suck my cock.” his voice was low and commanding. you licked your lips, wrapping them around his dick. he moaned, his head falling back as your warm mouth engulfed him. he looked back down on you, his hand still in your hair. he began to rock his hips forward to match your movements. your pace quickened, making almost obscene noises as you took him to the hilt with your mouth. “you like that?” he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice thick with lust. “you like chocking on my cock?” you only managed to moan around him. he pulled out of your mouth, allowing you to breathe. you were breathing heavy, looking up at him. his hand gripped your chin, his thumb making you open your mouth again. he spit directly into it, his thumb smearing it across your lips. “i’m going to fuck your face now. take me like a good girl.” with that, he thrusts back into your mouth, immediately setting a brutal pace. your hand went on his hip to hold onto something and his hand went on yours to pin it to it. his other hand gripped your hair tightly, guiding your head to meet his powerful thrusts. the sound of your gagging filled the room, along with wet sounds and his moans. he locked his eyes with yours, his pupils dilated with lust. his jaw was clenched now as he watched your eyes watering. he grinned darkly, enjoying the sight. “you can take more, whore. you wanted this, yeah?” you managed to nod around him. he then redoubled his efforts, his hips moving forward brutally. he held your head still, forcing you to take his entire length down your throat. tears streamed down your face as you gagged and chocked on his cock, your throat constricting around him. “gonna fucking come, baby.” he panted, his head snapping back with loud moan when he finally reached his peak. his body convulsed as he emptied himself in your mouth. he slowly pulled out, breathing heavy. he looked down at you, your face wet with tears and saliva. “swallow it all.” you quickly obeyed, licking your lips. he chuckled, wiping his softening dick on your cheek. “good girl. i knew you could handle it.” he stepped back, grabbing your arm and pulled you up. “now, let’s see what other holes i can ruin tonight.” he grabbed your panties, ripping them off with one swift motion. you gasped at that feeling. he pushed you back on the bed, spreading your legs wide apart. he climbed between them, his eyes roaming shamelessly over your pussy. “so wet for me.” he spat on it, spreading it with his fingers. “i’m going to fuck this cunt raw.” with one thrust he pushed two digits inside, knuckles deep, making you moan. he pumped them in and out, curling them to hit your g-spot. his thumb found your clit, rubbing firm circles. he leaned down, his hot breath ghosting over your ear. “beg for my cock, slut. i want to hear how badly you need it.”

“please Harry.” you moaned, when he started moving his fingers faster. he tutted disapprovingly.

“that’s not good enough. beg like you mean it.” he added third finger, stretching you wide. “beg or i’ll stop.”

“please, baby. i need your cock.” you whined, your hips bucking up. “i need you, fuck, please.”

“good girl.” he grinned, replacing his fingers with the head of his recovered erection. you both moaned as he pushed himself balls deep in one thrust. he gave you a moment to adjust before he started moving. his hips snapped back and forth, his breathing hot and heavy in your ear. his hands gripped your thighs, pulling you flush against him with each thrust. “so fucking good to me, best pussy.”

“oh my god.” you gasped, your back arching from intense pleasure.

“that’s right. fall apart for me.” his pace quickened. the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, mixed with your mutual moans and gasps. his hand sneaked around your throat, squeezing lightly, just enough to make you lightheaded. his other hand went on your clit, rubbing tight circles. “come on, cum for me. soak my cock.” he angled his hips, hitting that special spot with each powerful thrust. “be a good little fucktoy.”

“oh my fucking god.” you gasped as his hand around your throat tightened. his pace became punishing, his body slamming into yours. “i’m gonna come.”

“mmm, good.” he nipped at your earlobe, his breath hot against your skin. “scream it. let everyone know who you belong to.” he swelled inside you, his release nearing.

“Harry, fuck!” you cried out, squeezing his dick and squirting all over him. he moaned loudly, burying himself deep inside you. he came hard, his hot seed filling your pussy. he held you there, his cock throbbing inside you as he emptied himself completely.

“fuck, you’re mine. all fucking mine.” he panted. you were both breathing heavy. he slowly pulled out of you, his softening dick slipping free from your soaked cunt. he stood up. “stay like that.” you nodded, feeling him smacking your pussy and watching some of his cum leaking out. “such a good girl, took my load so well. i’m so proud of you.” he went to the bathroom, leaving you like that on the bed. your arm went over your eyes and you smiled to yourself. he cleaned himself up, returning to the room with warm washcloth. he laid down next to you, cleaning you gently. “so, did you enjoyed it that way? wasn’t it too rough?”

“it was good, i liked that.” you smiled, uncovering your eyes to look at him. he chuckled softly, touching your body delicately.

“good, because now i know you enjoyed it, it’ll happen more often.” he kissed your forehead.

[nottsangel]

i’m having the worst brainrot thinking ab mean dom harry … he didn’t think he liked the idea of being mean to u during sex but he can’t stop when he hears how u react to his harsh words UGH

HARRY ugh i missed my baby !!!!!!!! harry never intented to be purposely mean to you, but you know, sometimes his irritation would get the better of him, causing him to lose his temper. as a result he’d snap at you and say harsh words that he’d instantly regret. however, to his biggest surprise, you didn’t even cry, yell back, or walk away angrily— you remained silent, a sly smile you tried to suppress creeping onto your face as you awkwardly fiddled with your hands. and that was the moment he found out about your degradation kink.

so now, during sex, harry takes advantage of that and releases all his pent-up anger when he’s pounding into you, his hand wrapped tightly around your throat. and it works for the both of you— he found a way to let go of all his rage from whatever annoyed him that day and you reach orgasms even quicker than ever before. it’s a win-win situation!

“so pathetic, aren’t you? i can feel you tighten around me every time i call you my dirty slut.” harry hisses, the tip of his cock hitting all the right spots within you as your sharp nails drag down his bare back. “you like it when i talk to you like this, hm?” he growls, and you nod eagerly. “y-yes harry, fuck! i love it!” a mischievous smirk spreads across his face as he tightens his grip around your neck, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head. “yeah? bloody hell, such a pathetic little whore for me— only for me.”

ੈ♡˳

[gucciforasushirestaurant]

The Look

summary: its awards season. meaning glits, glam, and harry looking like a total snack at events.

word count: 8.8K (i got carried away 😬)

read time: 37 min

content warning ⚠️: D/s dynamics, MAJOR DADDY KINK, subspace, dom space, dd/lg (if you squint), (filthy) dirty talk, mild & sweet degradation, pet names (love, lovie, baby, baby girl, good girl, baby love), possessive!harry (if you squint), anal play (plugs), nipple clamps, light bondage (if you squint), spanking, paddling, (mention of flogging/ a flogger), fingering, ring kink (is this a thing? sure.), hand kink, light choking, manhandling (kind of), unprotected sex (and the mess that comes with it), (slight) hair pulling. If I messed something let me know!

a/n: I saw this picture of Rihanna looking at A$AP Rocky like she was about to suck the soul out of that man in front of all those people….and then I wrote this. and I'll do it again lol. Enjoy! 😉

You were bored, and beyond ready to go home. You hated award season, selfishly. You knew what it meant for Harry, and you were always so proud of him, and his accomplishments. But dammit did you hate all that came along with it. Dressing up and cameras, let alone the interviews. You’d only ever get a question or two thrown at you,but regardless, you were not built for it.

But Harry, he was a natural born star. He didn’t love the attention all of the time, but you knew him well enough to know that he did get a bit of a kick out of the attention. And he knew how to handle it far better than you ever could. It made you feel all the more guilty when all you wanted to do was stay home, cook a nice meal together and watch your shows. But you were nothing if not supportive, always taking one for the team, even if the team was just Harry. “It’s just a few hours,” you’d tell yourself. “Just a few hours and then I can have him all to myself the rest of the night.”And that’s what you told yourself, and that's how you ended up here, at some after party, in a dress, vacuum sealed to your body in heels that feel like stilts, and a little too tipsy from the free-flowing champagne.

Harry had just gotten off the small stage,giving a speech about…something. And while you were so proud of him, and how he commanded a room, you hadn’t heard a word he said. You were too busy gawking at your charming, devilishly handsome boyfriend.

Harry works his way through the crowd, eyes locked on you and dimples popped as he tries his best to make it to your side. He’s stopped a few times, gives some pleasantries before he’s by your side again, kissing your temple.

“You, alright?” he asks. You nod with a hum, looking up at him over your champagne flute.

“Why are you looking at me like that,” Harry smirks, wrapping his arm around your waist pulling you in. Harry knows the look, it's a look you only ever give him when you're in one of your moods. And it usually precedes you sucking the soul out of him.

“Like what?” you ask, earnestly.

“Right,” He chuckles, eyes looking down at your lip tucked between your teeth.

“What? I’m not looking at you like anything!” You defend, leaning up to kiss his cheek. And then it dawns on him.

You don’t even realize just how you’d been looking at him. All pout, and doe eyes, begging to be fucked and taken care of like you deserve.

“Nothing, honey.” He places a hand on your cheek smirking before leaning and kissing your forehead. “Let’s head out, hm? You look tired.”

“I’m fine! We can stay.” you lie, grateful that he’s suggested you head out early.

“Baby,” he says with a smile, but his tone is the one that makes your legs feel like Jell-O, “We’re going home. I did my obligation. I’ll go get the car. You meet me out front, after you’ve said your goodbye to everyone alright?” He asks, but it’s more like a demand.

You nod with a smile, finishing your drink. He kisses the top of your head, and you watch him make his exit.

*****

“You sounded great up there, Har.” You smile reaching for his hand resting on the shift. He laces your fingers together, kissing by the back of your hand.

“Thanks, Baby Love.” he says with a gentle smile. He pulls up to a red light, looking over at you. “You looked gorgeous tonight baby.”

“You’ve said that already.” you giggle, feeling your cheeks warm up. You lean your head back against the headrest, nibbling at your bottom lip, “A few times actually.”

“And I meant it every time I said it. And I mean it now.” he smirks.

“You look good too.” you smirk.You reach your hand up to his hair at the name of his neck, playing with the curls there. “Your hair looks nice like this. It’s very 90’s Leo.” You giggle and he smirks.

“Yeah? ‘S that a good thing?”

“Mmhmm,” you nod, “and I like this.” You say reaching over tugging on the shirt he’s wearing. It’s a black semi sheer top, with some lace detail. It’s simple, but paired with the jewelry and the fact that you can see his tattoos peeking through…you were more than pleased with tonight's outfit.

“I thought you might.” He turns his head to kiss your palm that’s made it to his cheek, giving it two spongy kisses.

The light turns and his attention is back on the road, so you watch the side of his face instead. Watch his dimple poke as he smiles. “It was written all over your face.” He chuckles after a few moments.

“What was?” You ask brows furrowed

“Those filthy thoughts of yours.” You don’t say a word, just clear your throat, nibbling on your bottom lip and turning your head looking forward. Harry looks over, eyes boring into the side of your face with a smirk. “Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me what filthy thoughts were going on in that pretty head of yours. Hmm?”

“Noth-” you start.

“Don’t lie to me, you know what happens when you do.” You swallow thickly looking over at him. For the second time tonight he’s used that tone. That dominant tone that only ever comes out when you ///play/// together. And it’s got you feeling all out of sorts. You squeeze your thighs together trying to soothe the ache that's sprung up between your thighs. “Tell me.” He presses once more.

“Just….thinking about playing with your hair….while you’re between my legs.” you whisper nervously.

You’d been with Harry for a while now. And you've never been shy about discussing intimacy. But when he put on that voice, and with his hand heavy on your thigh, it always seemed to make you bashful.

“And?” he prompts. Harry knows there's more, there's always more with you. “My little minx” Harry always joked.

Really he just wanted to work you up. Get you as frustrated, and hot and bothered as he could, because he had plans for tonight. Harry was finally going to reward you for being such a good girl, for him. Not just tonight and stomaching yet another event, but for all of awards season. You’ve always hated the cameras and parties. You’ve hated sharing him with the world. Selfish yes, but he felt the same about you. He couldn’t fathom how you felt every year around this time when he had to be ‘Harry Styles’ and not just your Harry, being ‘on’ all the time and away from you. But, you’ve been so good, and he knows he hasn’t been as attentive as he should be these last few months, so he was finally going to give you all the attention he’s deprived from you lately. All the attention you’ve been too shy, or scared to ask for.

“Your rings.” you finally blurt out.

“What about them?”

“I was thinking….” you pause trying to figure out the least crude way to phrase it,“About feeling them on my ass. I like when you spank me with them, and I like feeling them when…when you finger me too. It's nice.”

“You want me to spank you baby?”Harry asks cautiously. You nod your head slowly. “Why?” he asks, brows furrowed, with only a bit of concern “Did you do something to earn you a spanking?”

You and Harry were no strangers to spanking, or playing rough. But they were usually only reserved for your punishments, or ‘punishments’ as you so dubbed them, as you quite liked the feeling of Harry’s hands on you.

“Maybe.” you purred.

Now he’s intrigued. This was about teasing you before you got home. But now? This was about playing the game. His favorite game, yours too. He snaps his head toward you as you approach another red light.

“Maybe?” he quips, “You either broke a rule, or you didn't, baby? Which is it?”

You take a moment, trying to figure out which way to play it, which way would get you what you wanted most. You could continue to play coy, could lie, or you could be honest.

You chose the latter.

“I did.” you coo, biting your bottom lip.

“Hmm,” He hums, leaning over the center console to get a better look at you. Your eyes were a bit glassy already, a look you only ever got when the two of you played. When you were feeling submissive. “And what rule would that be?”

You look down at his hand that found its way from your thigh to become tangled with yours, twirling the ‘H’ and ‘S’ rings on his fingers. “No panties.” You mumbled.

He heard you, but he really enjoyed making you repeat things, especially if he knew that you were a little embarrassed. “Louder baby. And look at me.” he demands softly.

“I’m not wearing any panties.”

“No?” He mocks. You shake your head as the light turns green. Harry smirks at you, before, slowly pressing the accelerator, eyes back to the road.

“Why would you do that, baby? Go to such an important event, a room full of people with no panties on?” he asks. He knows why, or at least he suspects. But he wants to hear you say it. Likes to tease you, yes, maybe humiliate you a little for being his perfect little slut.

“I was thinking about the last time. Last week and how we…snuck away.”

He smirks looking over at you, with lust filled eyes he lifts your hand to his lips and kisses the back of your hand again. He remembers it fondly, as one of the best quickies you’ve had. Definitely the riskiest you’ve ever been, and he’s not stopped thinking about it since. And apparently neither have you.

“You didn’t wear any panties so it would be easier for me to fuck you in the bathroom again? Is that it?” he probed.

“Yes,” you squeak.

Harry stops at another red light. Cursing the fact that it seems they’ve not made a single one on your ride back. He looks over at you, dimples out, eyes dark with lust. “You like being a slut in public baby?” You nod. Chewing on your bottom lip. He reaches up, and pulls it from your teeth, running his thumb over it. “Why didn’t you ask, hmm? You know how to ask for what you want?” You shrug and squeeze your thighs tighter together. Harry takes notice and presses further, “Instead you were looking at me like a cock drunk whore.” he tuts, “In front of all those people. If I saw it, you know everyone else did too. Don’t you,sweetheart?”

“I didn’t - I don’t know.” You pouts

“It’s okay baby.” he chuckles, “I’ll take care of you when we get home okay. We’re almost there.

“Yes Sir.” you say, with a dopey grin. The honorific just slipped out, before you realized. You may have been slightly embarrassed if it weren't for the promise of what’s to come later tonight.

“Good girl.” He praises, leaning over the consol. He kisses you once, twice, and then a third time before you hear honking behind you.

Harry pulls away from your kiss, seeing the lights turned. There’s another impatient honk before Harry pulls off muttering an “asshole” under his breath, looking in the rear view mirror. You look out your window. Trying to keep yourself from moving around too much as Harry’s hand rested on your thigh, lightly massaging it.

The ride is quiet for a while, as you try to focus on not squirming, and imagining what’s in store for the night before Harry speaks again, voice all rough and authority,“You are getting punished first. You know that, don’t you baby?”

You look at him and nod your head, “Mhmm.” you hum.

Once you’ve finally pulled into the drive at home, Harry has pretty much fully entered his own Dom space and you're slipping deeper and deeper by the second into subspace. When you enter the house, he stops you at the bottom of the stairs reaching for your hand to turn you around. He cradles your face in his hands, stroking your cheeks, “I’m gonna grab some things for the night, and lock up the rest of the house. I want you on the bed in position, in nothing but this,” he says playing with the gold pendant ‘H’ around your neck “and then we’ll start. Okay?.”

You smile up at him, a warm rush going through your body, and nod. “Words, please. And repeat the instructions, for me.” he encourages.

“Go upstairs, sit in a position with only my necklace.”

“Good girl.” He smirks, grabbing your chin and kissing you deeply. He pulls away, you chasing after his lips, “No,” he tuts playfully, “Upstairs. Go.” he nods behind you towards the stairs behind you. You turn, Harry giving a light tap to your ass as you scurry up the staircase.

You’re quick to rid yourself of the uncomfortable costume of ‘celebrity girlfriend’, stripping down to nothing other than the gold necklace as promised. You sit center of the bed on your calves, hands resting on your thighs as you wait for Harry to join you.

He does as per his routine, locking up the house, and grabbing a your nightly water bottle for when you wake in the middle of the night. He does the extra task of grabbing you a snack and a few extra water bottles for the night.

When he passes the threshold of your bedroom his heart skips a beat at the sight of you, naked in the center of your bed, kneeling so pretty for him. But he doesn’t let it show. In fact he ignores you, as he enters the room, not giving you anything more than a glance. Your eyes remained trained on him as he moved through the room.

First to his side of the bed, placing the items he’d brought up with him, before heading over to your dresser, taking off his watch, and setting it in the little dish there. But you note that his rings you love so much remain on. He saunters into your walk-in closet and stays there for far too long in your opinion. Taking his time to get into his unofficial uniform for nights like this. He emerges in nothing but the same pair of relaxed fit dark denim wash jeans, that hug in all the right places, and his rings. Your favorite small velvet red box in one hand. And a leather paddle in the other.

Finally, after waiting what feels like forever, Harry strides over to you, standing at the end of the bed, placing the box on the corner of it. It had only a few things in it by the sound of it, but you still were tingling with anticipation. Without saying a word he jesters for you to come closer to him, with his finger. You knee walk your way over, sitting back on your calves with your hands resting on your thighs. You look at him with a pout, and he smiles.

“Hi baby.”

“Daddy -” you whine, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him. You were already getting a punishment, you didn’t want to make it worse.

“Oh, Baby Love,” Harry coos, and you whimper just happy to finally have his attention on you. He cradles your face in his hands, and you lean into his touch. “I’m right here.” He strokes your cheeks with his thumb, and places kisses on your forehead, each cheek, tip of your nose, and finally your lips. You whine into the kiss, and attempt to deepen the kiss, but he pulls away with a tisk. “Nuh uh,no. Punishment, remember.” He smirks, hand traveling down to your neck, stroking the side of it with his thumb.

“Yes Daddy,” you pout.

He reaches over, taking the lid off the velvety box and you peek inside.Inside isn’t your entire collection,not by a long shot. The box is nothing more than the ‘goodie bag’ he makes, everytime you play. Picking up a few things from the big red chest from the back of your closet that held everything ropes, to plugs, to clamps, and lube.

Tonight seemed to be quite the selection, and your pussy was clenching at the sight of the items. You watch him lay a few things beside you. Some nipple clamps with a chain connecting the two. He loved to pull on those while he railed you, and a pink glass plug with a rose on the end, and lastly some lube.

He puts a finger under your chin forcing him to look up at him.

“You know why you're getting a punishment tonight?” he asks.

“Yes”

“Tell Daddy, then.”

“Because I didn’t wear any panties.” .

“And?” he probed, eyebrows quirked up.

“And I ….” your mouth opens and closes a few times, trying to get the words out, but nerves taking over.

“Go on,” he chuckles, amused. He loved watching you get all worked up. But seeing just how worked up you are without him hardly touching you had him realize just how badly you needed him.

“I didn’t ask for you to take care of me when I was needy….I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head kissing your cheek, “It’s okay baby. I’m not mad, but I still gotta punish you, okay?” You nod your head, lip tucked between your teeth, “And you know your words if it becomes too much?”

“Red or watermelon to stop, and yellow if I need you to slow down, or if I need to talk to you about something.” you say quietly, and he smiles proudly. .

“Good girl.” he praises, one hand on your neck, the other caressing your cheek, “And your color right now?”

“Green.” You rush out leaning into his touch.

“Very good baby.” He reaches down and picks up the nipple clamps, “We’re gonna start with these, okay?”

“Wait! You gasp, eyes wide.

“You, okay?”

“Yeah. I just - can I touch you. Please?” you asked, and Harry smirks.

“What do you mean baby?”

“Can I kiss you, please?” you whisper. He nods, a little taking hold of your hands, bringing your arms around his neck, as he rests his hands on your waist and kisses you. He allows the make out session for a while, your hands tangled in his hair, while he gropes your ass, and massages your tits, pulling at your nipples, preparing them for the clamps. You moan into the kiss, pushing your hips into his. He allows it once but the second time he pulls away from the kiss making you moan.

“That’s enough baby. Be good, you’re already getting punished, hm?”

“Okay.” you pout.

Harry picks up one of the clamps, leaning down sucking your right nipple into his mouth before he places the clamp. You hiss at the sensation and the combination of the look in your eye, and the sounds you make, make his cock twitch in his jeans. “Good?” he questions.

“Yes.” you sigh with a nod. He leans over to your left breasts, bringing it to his mouth and doing the same as he did with the left. Once the clamps were in place, he lightly pulled on the chain dangling in the center, enjoying the little noises that you make as Harry kisses back up your chest to your neck.

“Feelin’ okay, Lovie?”

“Mhmm” you hum. Harry could tell it was getting more difficult for you to find words, you were slipping further and further into subspace and he couldn’t be happier.

“Good.” he states with a smirk, “Good, baby.”

He sits down next to you on the edge of the bed and pats his thigh, “Across my lap,” He purrs, and you do as your told, laying across his lap, your nipples hard and clamped brushing against the softness of the duvet. The sensation made you whimper, and squirm in Harry’s lap.

Harry takes a handful of your ass, squeezing it in warning. “No squirming. You know the rules. Unless you want more spanks, be still.”

“Sorry, Daddy..” You mumble looking up at him over your shoulder.

“Good girl” with your eyes on him still he reaches to the other side of him getting a tube from the box and picking up the pink plug. “We’re doing your plug tonight, okay?” You nod, biting your lip.

The plug is a relatively new addition to your play time, but it was quickly becoming a favorite of yours, and Harry’s too. He knew how much you enjoyed it, and while so far none of this seemed to be much of a punishment, he had plans for you.

“Color?”

“Green.” you stuttered.

“Good. Head down, relax for me okay?” he commanded.

You rest your head on your folded hands in front of you, your head to the side as you take in a shaking breath feeling his hands massage your ass, before slipping a hand between your thighs.

“Messy already baby?”

“Sorry,” you whimper, a little embarrassed at just how wet you were already, from nothing more than nipple clamps, and making out.

“That’s okay,” he coos, “you can’t help it. Can you, baby?” He leans down, placing a kiss on your right cheek.

“No.” You shake your head, “It’s the clamps, and…you looked really good tonight.” you admit shyly.

“So did you, Baby Love.” he smiles, “too bad you were being naughty. I was going to reward you for being so patient the last few months,” he taunts as he rubs up and down your pussy with one hand, massaging your ass with the other. “But now I have to punish you.” He brings some of your wetness to your tighter hole with his thumb massaging the ring of muscle making you moan out. You grip the sheets to keep you from squirming.

He leans down, spitting right at the puckered hole making you cry out. He smears the saliva around slowly prodding at your hole with his thumb while his fingers danced over your leaking pussy.

He hears you moan but ignores it, continuing his work. “You know why I love punishing you baby?”

“Why?”

“Because…it means I get to play with this cute little ass of yours.” He punctuates the sentence with a light spank to your left cheek with his free hand, as he slipped his thumb into your tightest hole.

“Daddy….”

“Shhh baby. I’m right here.” he coos, his hand up your back, comfortingly gripping the back of your neck as he plays with your clit and hole. Pumping his thumb slowly. After feeling you clench around the digit a few times, and your pussy pulse, he removes his thumb, while continuing to rub up and down your folds. He reaches for the lube, opening it.

“This is gonna be a little cold, okay, baby?”

“Okay,” you murmur

He squeezed a rather large dollop onto your hole rubbing it around, before rubbing the pink glass plug up and down your hole.

“Relax for me, and breathe, okay.”

No matter how much you’ve thought you’ve trained your asshole, it was always a stretch. But when Harry did it, he always made sure you were comfortable and there wasn’t any discomfort.

As he slowly works the plug in. Just a bit. Then out again. Then in a little bit more than out. It was maddening. The teasing. You can’t help but squirm. Feeling his erection against you didn’t help either.

“Daddy.” You moan, and Harry spanked you once, but hard.

“Baby,” he warns. “I’m trying to be patient but you’re only going to make this punishment worse. Be good, okay? Take what I give you.”

You know you shouldn’t be enjoying this half as much as you are. This is a punishment, afterall. But he’s finally giving you the attention you’ve been craving for weeks, and you can’t help but to make your request anyway. “More, please.” you squeaked

“More?” He teases. All you wanted was to feel the stretch of the plug, but he was taking things so painfully slowly.“You want to be filled up, Baby Love?”

“Yes.” you moan, “please.”and you jump as another spank lands onto your ass. The mix of pain and pleasure was almost maddening as it was becoming more difficult to focus on coming up with words, as your whole body was a light with pleasure.

“Be patient.” Harry tuts, “We gotta work it in baby, you want Daddy’s cock in there one day don’t you?”

The thought alone makes you squirm, and whine in Harry’s lap.“Yes” you moan.

“Then we have to go slow. You can barely fit this little guy, how do you expect to take Daddy’s big cock without any practice?” He reaches up, tangling his fingers in the hair at the back of your head, forcing you to look at him. “Answer me baby”

“I don’t know.” you whimper, nibbling at your bottom lip.

You were deep into subspace now, and he knew answering was getting more and more difficult for you. All the more reason to tease you. Harry smiles devilishly, caressing your face, “I know baby. That’s okay. But I need you to take what I give you, and stop complaining. Or your spanking is going to be worse. Do you want the flogger?”

You actually wouldn’t mind the flogger. You loved the thud of the heavy leather strips striking your back, but you shake your head, deciding it’s in your best interest to do as Harry says.

“Alright then, if you want to be full you have to be patient.”

You lay your head back down on your folded hands, and let out a deep breath, closing your eyes in an attempt to focus on the feeling of the plug teasing your ass. It was only a few more in’s and out’s before your ass accepted the plug, sucking it in allowing you to let out a sigh of relief at the feeling of being so deliciously full.

“There you go sweetheart,” Harry smiles tapping the rose at the end of the plug, the vibrations it sent through you making you let out a deep groan. “What do we say?” he prompts, spanking each of your cheeks.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you whine.

He massages your ass for a moment before a hand travels back down to your folds. “Even messier now, baby.” He leans down kissing your ass, teeth sinking into the flesh. “Such a good fucking girl. And so pretty, all plugged up.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“You’re welcome baby.” Harry chuckled darkly. He picks up rubbing the smooth leather across each cheek very lightly tapping it on each one. Just to prepare you for the sensation.

“You remember the rules about the paddle?” Harry asks, running it over your ass lightly. You nod your head, looking over your shoulder at him, “Tell me.”

“Count each one, and say thank you after.” you

“Good girl.” He smiles proudly. “How many do you think you deserve?”

“Ummm -” you nibble on your lip, trying your hardest to think straight. “Ten?”

“That’s adorable, baby…You’re getting twenty.”

You groan, burrowing your face into the sheets. Squirming in his lap, earning another harsh spank.

“Twenty-five.” Harry amends sternly.

“Wha - why?!” you mumble

“Ten for not wearing panties. Ten for not telling me how needy your greedy little pussy was tonight. And five because you won’t stop squirming after I’ve already warned you twice, Lovie.”

You let out a little moan but nod your head. It seemed fair, but it was gonna push your limits, as it’s five more than you’ve ever done. But you could do it, and you’ll probably enjoy it more than you should.

“Got it?”

“Yes, Daddy.” you confirm.

“Good girl. What’s your color?”

“I’m Green.”

“Alright. I’m going to start, now okay?” Harry warns, and you give him a nod.

The first one lands on your right cheek hard. Harder than you anticipated, and it makes you cross your legs.

“One! Thank you.” you wince.

“No,no.” He says prying your legs open open again, landing a light spank onto your drenched folds. “Keep them open.” Harry warns, massaging the warmth of your cheek before giving you the next strike.

“Two. Thank you.”

The strikes continue just like that. The paddle makes contact, alternating between cheeks, you count and give thanks. While he massages between each one. Some come in quick succession. Some are spaced out, making you moan in anticipation. There’s no real pattern and it keeps you on edge in the best way.

“Twenty. Thank you sir” you whimper, looking over your shoulder. Hoping maybe he’d forget about the last five if he saw you. There’s a few tears now, not so much from the pain of the paddle, just…everything. With each strike of the paddle, the plug jiggles giving you a pleasure so deep you can’t describe. You're desperate and so floaty, deep in subspace and more than anything you just really want to cum!. You just want it to get to the reward part of the night. But you are a good girl, so you stayed still, took your punishment, opting for a tight grip on the sheets rather than squirming around in Harry’s lap.

“Good girl. Baby. You're doing such a good job taking your punishment. So good for me, baby.” He praises, soothing the warm skin with his large palm. “What’s your color?” He checks in, when he sees your eyes glass and teary.

“I’m still green,” you whisper

“Okay. Turn around, we’re almost done.”

He doles out the rest of your spanks quickly, not giving you much time to count. But you try your best anyway.

“Twenty five. Thank you sir.” you sigh, letting out a deep breath

“Good girl!” He praises. He tosses the paddle to the side, pulling you up to have you sitting in his lap, knees on either side of his hips. He places a hand protectively at the back of your neck making you look up at him. He’s smiling like an idiot, so proud of you and you can’t help but crack a smile just as proud of yourself for taking your punishment so well.

He nods between you towards his right thigh “Look at that baby.” you look down seeing a dark spot on his jeans. Your brows knit together, before your eyes meet Harry’s again, “That’s you, baby.”

“Oh.” you mumble a little embarrassed. “Sorry.” You whisper trying to bury yourself into his neck but he stops squeezing your cheeks together with one hand, forcing your eyes on his.

“Nothing to be sorry about. You just need Daddy to make the aching go away, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you pout trying to grind your hips down into him, but Harry stops you, with a firm hand on your hip.

“Yeah, I know.” he takes the hand squishing your cheeks, snaking it down between the two of you pinching your already clamped nipple once before his fingers finally - finally make contact with your folds. You moan out. Resting your head on Harry’s shoulder, burying your face in his neck, as his hand travels up and down your folds, spreading your wetness.His free arm, secured around your waist, holding you upright.

Harry turns his head, lips pressed against your ear,“There you go baby. That feels so good hm? You like my fingers on your clit.” his fingers slow to a stop, not satisfied with your lack of response, subspace or not, “Talk to Daddy, Love.”

“Yes! So much. It’s so good -”

“Eyes on me,” he demanded, pulling your face out of his neck, trying your best to keep your eyes open, as he worked his magic on your clit. As soon as your eyes meet his, he sinks his middle finger inside. The coolness of his rings against your folds makes you shiver. He works it in for a moment before selfishly adding his ring finger into the mix. You both groan as your pussy greedily accepts a second finger. “Fuck baby, you’re suckin’ me in.” He leans forward sucking on your neck. Nibbling on your ear as he pumps faster. Curling them just right, “that feel good?”

“Mhmm. Oh, fuck,” you wine gripping ong his shoulder a hand in his hair tugging the way you know he likes. The way you’ve been craving all night.

You’re already so full. The plug was still firmly placed in ass, sitting heavy as you sat straddling him, his thumb working on your clit…it was almost too much! You were right on the edge of ecstasy when Harry inserted yet a third finger, methodically working on your G-spot.

“Shit! Daddy, I’m -” you cry out, looking down at his fingers going in and out of you, and the sight alone is enough to send you over the edge. Everything was catching up to you now, Harry’s fingers stuffing your pussy, the plug snug in your ass, the clamps tight on your nipples. You just needed one more thing.

“I want you to cum on my fingers baby,okay? Be good and show me how good it feels, and fucking come on my fingers.” The groan you let out is almost too raw, one of pure ecstasy. Then he says the thing that just about sends you over the edge. “Come on, my rings baby.”

“Daddy….” you whine,you were so close. So so close but you didn’t want it like this. You want to feel Harry. All of him. “No.” You whimper, causing him to pull away slightly, to get a good look at you.

“No? You don’t want to come baby? Since when does my greedy girl not want to cum?” He doesn’t slow his fingers, while his eyes bore into you. Not at all. They speed up, and curl them even more, stroking and prodigy at your G-spot, coaxing you closer and closer.

“Want….cock. Wanna cum on your cock.” You pout trying so hard not to come. And surprisingly you were doing a good job at it. You were historically terrible at holding your orgasms, but tonight seemed to be all about pushing your limits.

Harry smirks, leaning forward sucking your bottom lip in his mouth nibbling on it hard. He’s so hungry for you. Desperate almost. He has to see you come. He craves it.

“You will. Don’t worry.” He gives you another quick peck, “I’ll let you come on my cock. But you gotta give me what I want first. Okay? Gotta be good and come on my fingers first, then I’ll give you what you want.” You whine some more, leaning forward wrapping your arms around Harry tighter, still holding back. He can feel how tense you are, you’ve always been a stubborn girl, even when it’s not in your own best interests, it makes him smirk, a bit before he doubles his efforts on your clit.

“I promise. Baby Girl. Just let go. Show me your a good girl, come on.” He pulls you out of his neck again, hand on your cheek forcing you to look at him. “Let go. I got you. I got you-“ and just like that you're coming in a bright white light, ringing in your ears, and gushing all over Harry’s fingers, with those emerald eyes looking deep into your soul. He feels it too, feels your pussy convulses and gushes around his fingers. Your body tightens up before going completely lax in his lap. “Good fucking girl. There she is. Oh baby there you go so good for me.” You let out a groan unlike anything you’ve ever done before. Gripping at his hair and grinding down on his fingers and your pussy convulses and gushes, around his fingers.He slows them down before slowly withdrawing, tapping your clit softly a few times, for good measure. He brings his hands up to his lips, making a show of licking his fingers clean, before his hand goes back down between your legs, cupping your pussy, reveling in the feeling of it still pulsating with aftershocks as you try to catch your breath.

“Than-thank you Daddy” you hiccup. Kissing his neck.

“Your welcome, baby. You okay?” he asks, and you nod against his shoulder. “Look at me, please baby.” you do as you're told, though finding it difficult to keep your eyes open. “Good baby.” He leans forward kissing you, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips, and it drives you mad. “Hold onto me.” He demands sweetly. You adjust yourself, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. Harry stands up and turns. Setting you back on your feet allows the back of your knees to hit the mattress.

“Lay back on the pillows, for me?” he asks sweetly, with a kiss on your forehead. You nod eagerly, crawling up on the bed, laying out knees bent and feet flat.

Harry’s cock twitches in his jeans at the sight of you. He knee walks his way up the bed. Laying on his stomach, his face level with your pussy, kissing down your thighs, making your breath hitch. You roll your hips up at his hot breath fanning over your wet sensitive lips and Harry smiles.

“Need something?” he chuckles. You open your mouth,closing it quickly, debating on if you want to reveal just how greedy you’re feeling. “Baby…” he prompts, and you give in.

“Mouth. Please?” you whisper, giving your best doe eyes.

“I thought you wanted my cock? Begged for it.”

“That too!” you rush out with a pout.

“I’m only teasing,Lovie,” Harry chuckles, “My greedy girl. Got my fingers now you want both my mouth and cock.” You cover your face, and attempt to close your legs, but fail. Harry kisses up your body, removing your hands from your face, placing a sloppy kiss to your cheek. “Don’t worry baby. I’m gonna give them to you. Punishment is all over. Now I just wanna play with my girl. Give you everything you want. Do you know why?”

“Because I deserve it.” you recite with a smile, like you’ve done so many times before.

“That’s right. You deserve,” Harry kisses your right right cheek, “all the praise,” he kisses your left cheek, “and all the orgasms,” he kisses the tip of your nose, “because your my Good Girl.” he smile before finally locking his lips to yours in a deep kiss, letting out a groan when you get brave and dip your tongue into his mouth.

It’s always been the simple things with Harry that gets to you the most. The way he dresses, how gentle he was with you. The way his lips felt on yours, the way they worked down your neck, not to mention the little noises he makes when you make out with him, and grind up into his hips. It all drove you wild. Just as much as it drove him mad. He craved you like you did him. It was almost like you fed off of one another, the neediness, the pure carnal want for one another. You were perfect together.

Slowly Harry pulls away, kissing down your body, nibbling playfully as he goes until he is situated back between your thighs. Harry reaches for one of your hands at your side, placing your hand in his hair, lacing the other with his. He kisses each thigh, before kissing the top of your mound. He taps on the plug reminding you it’s still there.

“Are you still okay with this in? It’s not uncomfortable?” he asks,and you shake your head.

“No.” you mumble, shaking your hand, “I like it. Feel full.”

“I know.” He leans in lightly kissing your clit. “You have the prettiest pussy baby. You know that? ‘S gorgeous. Could live right here. Between your beautiful thick thighs.”

You let out a whine rolling your hips up impatiently, and Harry jerks his head away, giving you a knowing look, “Sorry. I’ll be still I’m sorry.”

“Good girl.” Harry smiles, kissing your clit lightly once more before finally - finally delving in. Like a starved man, Harry is lapping at your folds up and down the length of your pussy before he sucks your clit into his mouth. Creating a light suction, almost pulsating it, and flicking over it gently with his tongue.

You were in complete bliss, with the way he was eating you out, you’d come in no time, much to Harry’s delight.

“Oh god -” you sigh out, gripping his hair tighter, pulling his face closer to you by the back of his head. “More - please.” If you weren’t feeling as amazing as you were you’d be embarrassed by how desperate you sound.

“That’s my girl!” He moans against you. “Take what you need,Love.” His free hand moves to the plug, slowly pulling it out a tad before pushing it back it fucking you with the toy. All while his mouth kept a vacuum seal around your pussy.

“Daddy…”

“Come on my tongue baby.” He encourages. “Come on baby. Show me how good it feels sweetheart.” He groans right into your pussy as you pull at his scalp, he shakes his head back and forth, the friction and vibration, driving you wild.

It’s filthy and messy and it feels unreal. Before you have a chance to savor the feeling, you're coming in a rush, the coil in your lower belly snapping as you come on Harry’s tongue as requested, body tingling from the sensation.

Harry brings his licks to a slow stop, giving your pussy one final peck, making you shiver. He kisses his way up your body, and you're quick to bring him right back up to your face tasting yourself on his lips.

“Good girl, lovie.” He growls against your lips, “Fuck.” He pins the hand that he’s kept intertwined with his above your head, taking a hold of your other one and doing the same. He works his way down your neck nibbling and sucking on your favorite spot.

When he finally finishes his assault on your neck, he looks down at you to see. Your eyes have gone glassy again, this time, with tears brimming your eyes. He always seems to manage to bring you to tears. It only happens when you’ve been particularly needed, and he makes you feel especially good, but he’s always proud of himself when he can make it happen.

“Oh baby,” He sighs, leaning his weight on your hips grinding into yours. “That felt so good didn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you nod.

“I know, baby. Your body’s just so sensitive, huh?” He punctuates it with a pull of the nipple clamp chain you’d nearly forgotten about..

“Yeah Daddy, so sensitive. It’s -I-”

“Shhh I know baby it’s a lot. I’m here tho okay. You're safe. Your okay.” He leans down, kissing you again, not as deep, trying to bring you back up a bit before he continues. He ends the kiss, resting his forehead against yours, rubbing his nose against yours. “What’s your color baby?” he asks.

“Green.” you smile at him, rolling your hips up into his.

“You still want to come on my cock?”

“Yes please Daddy please please please,” you beg, only a little embarrassed.

“Okay. I’ll give it to you. You’ve been so patient.” So have I. Harry thinks.

He lets your wrist go and they instantly tangle in his curls once more, forcing his lips down onto yours. You snake a hand down and attempt to fumble with the buckle of his jeans. “Off. Feel” you mumble between kisses.

“You wanna feel me against you?” he asks, and you nod your head fervently. You loved the feeling of being skin to skin with Harry, you’d never feel closer to him than when you were skin to skin. He manuvores his jeans down and you're happily met with the feeling of him pressed against your folds. Making you both groan out.

“That Better?” he smirks and you smile

“Much.” you smile. Harry reaches for the plug, and begins to tug at it. But you stop him with a whine in protest, “No. Wanna be full.”

“You wanna be fucked with the plug?” He double checks. But by the pout on your lips, he knows you mean it. “Filthy girl.” he smirks, “Alright. I’ll leave it okay?” He’s never fucked you with the plug in, the thought’s been floating around your head for a while, and with how needy you were, you figured tonight would be the perfect night to try.

Harry leans down kissing you with his hard leaking cock in one hand the other cradling your cheek in the other, as he runs the head up and down your folds a few times. He revels in the feeling for as long as you let him, before breaching just the tip inside of your pussy. It’s a tighter fit than usual with the plug still inside, and it takes both of you back. You gasp, a good gasp but he feels you tighten even more.

“Shhh baby relax,” he kisses you all over your face. “You gotta breathe for me, okay?” You nod and let out a breath as he slowly enters you, until he’s fully inside. “Oh good girl. Shit baby. You’re so full, huh?” He groans, kissing your cheek.

“Yeah you squeak oh, so. I’ve never -”

“I know, baby. Oh fuck. I’m just gonna stay like this till you tell me to move okay.” He says as he moves into your neck, kissing and nibbling at the skin there.

After a few moments of Harry sucking onto your neck, you begin to roll your hips up into his, grinding down on his cock, drawing out deep groans from the both of you. He takes it as a sign that you're ready, that you can take him and so he begins to rock his hips with deep shallow thrusts. It allows you to and you relish at the fullness of both Harry’s cock and the pink rose plug. The pleasure is almost too much, it’s got your whole body tingling, and warm.

“Good girl baby. Taking it so well. Fuck.” he growls, leaning his forhead on yours. He slowly draws his hip back further and further before diving back in.

“Harder.” you whine, and Harry grants your request, fucking you harder into the materss, holding onto your hips tight as he pounded into you.

“You feel so good baby, you know that? Do you know how good you make Daddy feel, baby?” he urges. “Your pussy’s like heaven to me baby.” He groans looking, with nothing but love and adoration.

“Gonna come Daddy!”

He picks up his pace, fucking you hard, and fast. The only thing in the room being heard is the sound of skin against wet skin, and your carnal moans. Your fingers in his hair, pulling at the strands as you get closer and closer to the edge once more, before your coming undone again, convulsing under him.

“Atta Girl! Good job baby,"Harry smiles, kissing you passionately, “give me one more.”

“Can’t,” you moan. You’re so sensitive, you feel amazing, but you have no idea how much more you can take. But as Harry grinds down into you, a hand snaking down to your clit, you can feel yourself, getting closer and closer. You don’t think you can stop it. “Can’t Daddy. I- oh god.” Your whole body was a light, as you felt your peak approaching again quickly, gripping onto Harry’s shoulders, holding him to you as you buried yourself in his neck.

“Yes you can,” Harry groans, “Can feel you squeezing me, your pussy’s begging for it. Come for me baby. Come on my cock, like you wanted to,” he caresses your face in one hand, getting your attention, your eyes open to look right at him, “Show me.”

You open your mouth trying to speak, but the words escape you, too wrapped up in the pleasure, But Harry, ever the attentive boyfriend, knows what you were trying to say. to speak but can’t get the words out but he knows what you were trying to say. “You can do it, Baby Girl. Come for me. Give me one more, and let Daddy fill up your pretty pussy. Give it to me baby, so I can give you your come.”

///Your/// come. Yours. That’s what does it for you. It’s what always does it for both of you. The ownership. Because he was just as much yours and you were his. Including orgasms. And just like that you come in a bright white light, ringing in your ears, and tears in your eyes. Loud, and hard, whining in Harry’s ear, writhing underneath him, holding onto him with all your might.

“Good fucking girl. Oh fuck. There you go.” He growls into your ear, before crashing his lips down to yours. “Fuck, baby. You’re going to make me come.”

“Please” you whine holding his face, looking at him deep in those emerald eyes. “ Give it to me, please.” And he’s a goner. Eyes rolled back, body tensing, and thrust going sloppy as he spurts white ropes, painting your walls. And you relish the feeling.

Harry collapses on top of you, burying his face into your neck, kissing and nibbling, giving you praise as you both tried to catch your breath. When he feels that your heart has stopped beating as fast, and he feels himself softening inside of you is when he decides it’s time to pull out. But you resist, tightening your legs around his hips, the hand that’s made its way into his hair tightening.

“Not yet please.” you request with a pout.

“Okay. Okay I’ll stay.” He whispers kissing across your collarbone. “Just a bit longer.”

After enough time has passed, Harry looks up at you, “You with me?” he asks. You hum, eyes closed dopey grin on your lips and he can tell that you’re still in that floaty place, maybe not as deep but you definitely weren’t fully present.

“Daddy…” you whine just above a whisper.

“S’ just Harry baby. Just me.” You pout. You didn’t want to be done, but a look at the clock on your nightstand tells you you've been at it for a while so you try and tell yourself to come back to earth. “You’re okay. I’m here. Hey look at me.” he urges, bringing a hand to your face, “Your safe okay. I’m gonna pull out now and take out the plug and then we’ll get all cleaned up okay?”

“Okay.” you smile. You whine when he pulls out but he soothes you with a kiss to your forehead and a promise of returning soon.

He’s back in a flash with a warm damp cloth and some tissues. “You still feelin’ a little floaty huh, baby?” He smirks as he cleans you up.

“Yeah.”

“That’s okay. Just let me take care of you okay?” you nod and he goes to work on cleaning the mess between your legs. “You did so well tonight baby. Took everything so well. You're my best girl, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s right. He reaches for the plug.

“You gotta relax for me. Gotta get this guy out of ya. Take a break out for me.” he instructs, taking it out slowly before placing it on the nightstand on the tissue. He kisses your inner thigh before kissing his way up your body. “Wrap around me.” he instructs, and you do as you're told, wrapping your arms around him, as he lifts you up and walks you to the bathroom, sitting you on the toilet. “Go on. You know the drill.” he chuckles when you look at him shyly. He turns to the bath, giving you privacy to pee, as he runs the bath. Adding all your smell, good scents and bubbles.

By the type you're all bathed, dried and back in bed, you seem much more like yourself.

“You feeling good?” He asks.

“So good.” you chuckle, “Thank you Harry. I really needed that.”

Harry laughs and kisses your temple, “I could tell. But you never have to thank me for giving you pleasure. It’s an honor to give it to you.”

You feel your face heat up, as you shake your head and burrow yourself into the softness of his chest.”

“Still. I- you always make me feel good and idk I want you to know I love you and I appreciate you making me feel good. Even when I’m getting punished.”

“Love you too, Baby Love.”

✨masterlist✨∣ ✨yap & request box✨

[harryistheonlyoneforme]

adjustment*

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, slight pussy slapping, choking, praise, creampie

summary: in which yn has an attitude and harry fixes it for her

pairing: fiancé harry x reader

blog navigation | masterlist | taglist

~

harry cuts his eyes to yn for what seems like the thousandth time in the past hour, his teeth grinding together as he tries to keep his composure. he ignores the huffs and puffs from her again, and when she realizes that he won’t be giving into her games anytime soon, she huffs once more before pushing herself up off the couch and heads to the kitchen for a glass of water.

a deep scowl is prominent on her face as she stomps to the cabinets and snatches a glass out, slamming the door once she has the glass securely in her grip. more stomps can be heard as she moves to the fridge, pressing the glass against the water dispenser, chugging it where she stands.

she steps over and places the glass on the counter next to the fridge before turning around to head back out to the living room, but a surprised yelp falls from her lips as she turns around to face harry…less than 3 feet away from her. in the time that she takes to recognize his presence, he closes the distance between them with a single stride and his hand comes up to wrap around her throat, all in one smooth motion.

harry uses the grip on her to press her against the fridge, making yn’s heart race and her eyes flutter shut at both the cool feel of the appliance behind her and the shock of the situation at hand. she knows that if she opens her eyes, she will no doubt see harry with a deep furrow in his eyebrows and a scowl on his face, but she doesn’t have the courage to take a peek.

the two of them stay just like that for a while, harry’s eyes trailing over her face as he calms himself down. ‘open your eyes,” he demands, humming in satisfaction when yn’s eyes flutter open. “so you can listen. good,” he acknowledges.

harry knows her like the back of his hand after being together for 6 years, so it’s no shock to him when he hikes up her oversized t shirt and presses one of his legs between hers to spread them open for him before reaching down and feeling the slick coating her already ruined panties.

“ah, that’s it, hm? that’s what you needed?” he coos, the condescending undertone to his words only wrecking both her mind and her panties further. using his free hand once more, he pulls the ruined material to the side before speaking again. “needed me to be little rough, a proper slut f’me,” he hums. the tight grip he has on her throat as well as his ghosting touch over her folds are making her dizzy, and when he finally slides a ringed finger through her mess, she can’t help it when her knees buckle just a bit.

harry just chuckles at how desperate and gone she is for him, his breath fanning over her face and causing her to let her head fall back, her eyes fluttering closed all over again. the same finger that’s found a home between her swollen folds moves up higher until the tip is pressed tightly against her throbbing clit, pulling a broken moan from her.

he lets out a chest-deep hum at the sound and rubs right over the throbbing head of her clit, continuing that same motion until she’s so close that her legs are shaking and just stops. a pathetic whine leaves her lips at his cruelty, but he just moved his hand to land a sharp smack right onto where she’s throbbing for him. the pleasure riddled pain brings a wave of desperate tears to her eyes, already knowing that he deprived her for simply choosing not to ask for permission to cum.

harry’s heart melts just at the sight of the tears, a pout forming on his lips before he removes his hand from her neck and pushes his sweats down to kick them off. yn simply watches in anticipation, waiting for his next move. she expects them to head to the bedroom or even for him to place her on the counter. but no, when his leaking cock is finally free from the confines of his pants, he just grips her shoulders to turn her around to face the fridge, pressing down on her upper back just a bit to bend her over for easier access.

he grips the base of himself with his other hand, and with a slight bend of his knees and a quick run of his head through her messy folds, he’s sheathed inside of her pressing in until their hips meet. the smooth thrust nearly knocks the wind from her, her hands flailing to find something to grip onto. her face is pressed against the cool steel before her, hands holding onto the door handles.

“fuckin’ hell,” her fiancé groans from behind her, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he tries to hold himself back. not only for him, but for her as well. he needs this to last for her, even though she’s been a brat all day. yn, living up to that expectation once again, has a growing smirk on her face as she presses her ass back against him teasingly, intentionally fluttering her velvety walls around his already throbbing cock.

a throaty moan bubbles in his chest and he squeezes his eyes shut, gathering his bearings quickly. once he’s sure he can move again, he removes one hand from her hips and reaches up to grab her throat once again, catching her off guard as he pulls her toward him until she has a deep arch in her back and her back is pressed to his chest.

wasting no more time, he pulls out of her until his leaky tip is resting right at her entrance before slamming back in, forcing a loud moan from his fianceè. he repeats the action over and over, going slowly until he physically can’t take it anymore, speeding up his bruising thrusts to chase the both of their orgasms. “there we go, mama,” he grunts in between thrusts, speaking over the sounds of her broken moans as she takes everything he gives her. “takin’ me so well, all i could ever ask for. always give you what you need, don’t even have t’ask,” he admits. he knows just what praise does to her, and when he finishes his sentiment off with a line of kisses down the side of her neck, that’s all it takes for her orgasm to peak.

her orgasm causes her fluttering channel to tighten around him almost unbearably, her jaw slack as he continues to fuck into her in order to work her through the orgasm. harry starts to feel a slight drip at the base of his cock, and looks down to see his cock coated in a layer of her cream as she lets out every ounce of tension she’d been holding in. “son of a bitch, you’re creaming on my cock,” he says, a whiny undertone to his words as he feels the beginning of his own orgasm building quickly in his belly.

all it takes is two more deep thrusts into her creamy walls and he’s pressing his hips to hers as he fills her with his warm cum, his cock twitching almost painfully as he empties himself into her.

~

heyyyyy guys. uhhh it’s been a min😅😅

pls remember that this is my first piece back and take it easy on me LOL. this was hardddd omg. but i missed you guys smmmmmm😚🤍

also sorry it’s short, i’m taking baby steps back into this businessssss

[whitemancumslut]

Look What You Made Me Do (H.S) Pt.1

SUMMARY: A guy flirts with you, and as a result, Harry kills him.

CONTENT WARNING: dark!harry, manipulation, sex, manhandling, sub/dom dynamic, hints of m*rder, mentions of wounds/blood, daddy kink

AUTHORS NOTE: Someone requested a dark!harry who gaslights, kills, and manipulates so i scrambled this up. I will def be writing him more seriously after this one 😂

WORD COUNT: 1-2k

It all started when she pleaded with her big doe eyes pearling up at him, her small voice filled with desperation and smallness. The vastness of the huge empty house seemed to swallow her up in his absence, leaving her feeling like a tiny speck in a sea of silence.

"Daddy, can I go with you? Please," she implored, her eyes wide with hope. She craved to be in his presence, for the reassurance of his company in the cold, echoing rooms of their home.

But his response was harsh and dismissive, his words cutting through her like a knife. "No," he said brusquely, his tone leaving no room for argument. The frown that creased her brow deepened.

She continued. “Please, I'll be good. I promise," she pleaded, watching him pack the duffel bags, not worrying about all the things he’s shoving inside as she was once told that it was none of her business.

His job was a mystery to her, shrouded in secrecy and danger. Every night, Harry would return home with evidence of a violent encounter - bruises on his knuckles, blood splattered on his clothes, and his hair in disarray.

Despite her growing fear and concern, she was forbidden from asking questions. Harry insisted that his actions were for her protection, and that she was not meant to witness the darker side of his work. The unspoken understanding between them only added to the air of mystery and tension that surrounded Harry's enigmatic profession.

Harry sighed, dropping what was in his hands to turn to his girl. "Baby," He said softly, grabbing her face in his hands, his eyes filled with concern. "Is there a reason you don't want to stay here? You're always happy to wait for me when I get back." His words were laced with genuine curiosity as he searched her eyes for any hint of what might be bothering her. Harry couldn't bear to see her unhappy and he would go to hell and back to put that smile on her face.

Her eyes began to get glossy as she looked up at him, her bottom lip quivering. "I-I just want to be with you. It's so boring here. Please daddy. Just once, can I go?," she begged, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll be good.”

Harry looks down at her as he towered over her in their height difference. “Daddy has very important business, you know that.” He said. “Don’t you, princess?” His hand coming in contact with her head. Rubbing over her hair and then rubbing over her cheek.

She nodded, “Yes, sir.” Her voice sounded smaller than before and very much defeated as she looked down at her freshly done nails Harry paid for.

Harry sighed, knowing he couldn't resist her sad, pleading eyes. Placing a small kiss to her upper lip. "Get dressed," he finally relented, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Her face lit up with joy as she jumped up from her seat, a sense of excitement coursing through her veins. "Yes!" she wrapped her arms around his neck, placing a wet glossy kiss on his cheek.

His hands moved stealthily down to her backside, fingers gripping her butt with a firm squeeze. His voice remained stern as he instructed her to get dressed quickly. "I'm leaving in ten minutes," he stated firmly. Despite his serious tone, she couldn't help but smile at him.

"Okay Daddy," she giggled.

She started to make her way towards their bedroom upstairs, but before she could take another step, Harry grabbed her by the forearm, pulling her back with a roughness that sent a shiver down her spine.

"But you listen to me," he said sternly, his grip tightening on her arm. She looked up at him, the smile is no longer on her face as she locks intimidating eye contact with him. "I want you on your best behavior tonight. I need you to stay by my side at all times. Do you understand?" He searches for some sort of understanding and submissive in her eyes and as always, he does.

She nodded, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and excitement. But Harry wasn't satisfied with just a nod. He cupped her jaw in his hand, his fingers pressing against her skin with a force that made her gasp.

"Words," he demanded, his voice low and commanding. "Use them."

"Y-yes, daddy," she stammered, her words barely audible as she struggled to meet his intense gaze. The power he held over her was intoxicating, and she knew that tonight would be a night she would never forget.

He let go of her face and she made her way up to the bedroom they shared. Harry shook his head as he finished closing his duffel bag and swinging it over his torso.

The only thing she knew about Harry's job was that it always led them to a club. As soon as she walked in she was met with loud music and people grinding against one another. As they walked through the entrance, she could feel his grip on her hand tighten, causing a slight discomfort that only grew as they made their way through the crowded dance floor.

As she walked, she just remembered the two rules Harry gave her:

1. Stay by Harry’s side.

2. Don’t speak to anybody.

But Harry didn’t stay by her side. He was pulled away from her when one of his men came and pulled him for a conversation. The area was so congested, he lost track of her.

As his men spoke to him, a man approached his girl. It was another man who worked for him, she recognized him but couldn’t put a name to his face. Harry tended to tell this man off a lot. He would always cut him off and treat him as if his words and suggestions to their work didn’t matter.

“Hello, sweetheart.” The two words caused her to spin and see a man who’s awfully taller than her. “I’m Jared. I work for Styles. I believe we’ve met before,” He held out his hand, awaiting hers.

Afraid to be rude, she took his hand and shook it, praying it’ll be over soon. "Hi," she said softly, voice sweet as honey. The instructions in the car were clear - she wasn't supposed to speak to anyone and was supposed to stick to Harry’s side. However, the absence of Harry, who was meant to be by her side at all times, made her question the rules she was meant to follow.

She removed his hand from his grip and smiled kindly. He assumed that her being alone was a perfect opportunity to get her away from him. “Where’s Styles? Rarely get you alone…” His lips curled up as his eyes scanned her skin that was out leaving little to the imagination. Before she could answer—

“This is very pretty,” He said, his voice is as if he’s trying to lure her. His rough calloused hands came up and touched the strap of her dress.

“Thank you!” She said smiling. In a way, Harry always made it seem as if the men who worked for him were evil and cruel and not at all kind. But a compliment like this made her feel the opposite. “I just got it this weekend!”

And that’s when Harry flicked his head in her direction to see the interaction. It was like a light switch in his head. Eyes squinting to make sure he saw what he saw correctly.

“How did Styles’ get so lucky?” his hand came to her bare shoulder and before he could move closer—

"Hey, what's going on?" Harry interrupted before she could even begin to explain the situation. His tone was sharp, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Is there a reason you're here and not over there?" With a sudden burst of aggression, Harry shoved him forcefully, causing him to stumble and collide with the barstools lined up behind him.

The sound of the impact caused a loud screeching sound, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. It was clear that Harry's actions were motivated by more than just curiosity - there was a sense of menace in his demeanor that sent a chill down everyone's spine.

Jared’s tough guy act tried to go strong but anyone could understand looking at the glint in Harry’s eyes it was no use.

Harry grabbed him by the collar as she tried to get his attention. “We were just talking—“

“You fucking touch her? Hmm?” Harry’s fist came in contact with the guys face once again causing the girl behind him to drop the grip on his arm. Harry stood over the man that worked for him and kicked him as he grew satisfied with the blood pouring from his face. “He’s going to den.” He ordered the two men who he was previously speaking to.

He doesn’t look at the men, instead he grabs his girls hand with the opposite hand that wasn’t bruised. He pulled her along with him, ignoring anything she was saying.

The girl behind him shook her head as her hands shook. “Daddy—.” She continued to look back at the man being taken away. “No. Why’d you do that?”

Her voice was like a cry and he ignored every word until they got into the car. The car ride was silent as all she can think about was what Harry did.

When they arrived to the house, Harry walked to the front door and let her walk in. He didn’t even step foot in the door.

“You stay here,” He said. Before she could argue— he was out the door with a slam.

But nothing could have prepared her for when he got back.

When he returned, he called out her name. “Baby?” Harry called out. She sat on the edge of the bed, and her feet dangled as she’s been home alone for a hour. When she heard his footsteps come closer and closer, she lifted her head up awaiting his enterance.

“Hey, baby.” He greeted her softly and came into the room and the first thing she realized was his shirt.

The silence was loud and the stains on his shirt were screaming at her. He comes closer and places a kiss on her forehead as if she’s a clueless dog.

She watched as he walked across their bedroom and through his coat to the floor, sighing heavily.

The silence killed her.

“Daddy?”

He hummed, “Hmm?”

“What did you do to Jared?”

“What do you mean?”

“Where did you have the guys take him?”

“Somewhere.”

“Somewhere?” She questioned, standing up. “Just somewhere? Did you hurt him? He was just being nice—!”

“No!” Harry's voice boomed with anger, his eyes flashing with intensity, causing her to jump. The way his head flicked towards her startled her more. "Jared was a bad guy, baby. Far from nice. And if you couldn't see it from talking to him face to face, then that's a problem.” He scolded walking towards her with each step causing her to back up one, “I could tell from across the room that he was trying to get you. So, I had to take care of him. Look at this," he gestured to the bloodstains on his shirt, "that's Jared's blood. He wanted to get you all to himself." She flinched as he barked his words out at her. Harry's words were harsh and filled with a protective rage as he explained the violent altercation that had just taken place.

“So you know what I did?” He said, voice deep and cruel. Eyes peering deep into hers. His tone was chilling, a coldness that sent shivers down her spine as he spoke. His eyes, dark and intense, seemed to bore into her soul as he revealed his dark secret.

Tears welled up in her eyes, a mix of fear and sorrow clouding her vision. She couldn't believe what she was hearing, couldn't fathom the depths of his cruelty.

And then he said it, those three words that echoed in the silence of the room. "I killed him." The words hung in the air, heavy and ominous, as the weight of his confession settled between them. Harry's nonchalant demeanor only added to the horror of his admission, as if taking a life was nothing more than a casual event in his twisted world.

The truth of his actions hit her like a freight train, a realization that shook her to the core. Harry killed a man for flirting with her. She had known there was darkness within him, but this revelation was beyond anything she could have imagined. Her mind raced with questions, with the need to understand how he could have done such a thing.

As she looked into his eyes, she saw no remorse, no guilt. Only a cold emptiness that chilled her to the bone. And in that moment, she knew that she was in the presence of a monster.

“I know the man Jared is,” He said. “He preys on younger drunk girls and shoves them in his car and takes them to his place. You know how many times we’ve caught him for that? Going after you was him trying to get back at me for lashing at him in the poker room.”

As she slowly backed away from him, her heart pounding in her chest, she couldn't find the words to express the shock and disbelief that filled her. "Why—Why would—Why would you kill him?" she finally managed to whisper, her voice barely above a breath. The room felt heavy with the weight of his confession, as if there were another presence in the house, one that she couldn't see but could feel with every fiber of her being.

His eyes bore into hers, filled with a mix of determination and desperation. "I did it for you. I did it because of you," he explained, his voice low and raw with emotion. He took a step closer, his breath warm against her skin, sending shivers down her spine. "I couldn't stand to see him lay a finger on you. It drove me crazy. The mere thought of another man touching you, it makes me fucking sick. Do you understand that?," he confessed, his words heavy with the weight of his love and possessiveness.

With those words, a sense of understanding came over her but it still flooded her brain of the thought of Harry killing a man. She couldn't imagine herself with anyone else, couldn't fathom another man treating her the way Harry did. Touching her the way Harry did. No one else could make her feel the way he did, with his fierce protectiveness and unwavering devotion.

In her eyes, she saw a love so deep and consuming that it both terrified and exhilarated her. Everything he did excited her but he was always such a mysterious man with a mysterious life behind the big doors of their home.

His thumb brushed the falling tear off her cheek. “The lengths I would go to protect you know no bounds, baby. Don't mistake my actions for those of a dangerous man; I am just protecting you. You have to understand, I am not the villain. Jared is, not me." With a sense of urgency and desperation, he gently shook her cheeks as he spoke, trying to make her see the truth in his words.

He let go of her head, and his hands fell to his sides. Her eyes following his—still trying to find exactly what emotions are filled in his.

“I did it for you. I killed a man that worked for me because he fucking laid a finger on you. Do you know how crazy you make me, darling? The things I’d do for you? Oh, baby I’d stop the Earth from spinning.” He grabbed her face again, but this time she didn’t back away— she melted into his touch. Looking into his eyes she saw something. It was a look of reassurance and once again she saw the man she loved. “I did it because I love you, baby, okay?”

Tears continued to fall down her face but she nodded as he spoke. “Do you understand that?” He shakes her head in his hands, wiping the tears as they fell.

She nods again, “I— I understand sir.”

“I will always protect to you. You understand?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Harry’s lips pressed to her as he wrapped his arms around her body.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. I should have never lashed out on you like that and I should have never left you alone. I just really hate when any other guys staring at what’s mine.” He spoke to her softly as she shakes her head. “I promise I will never let another man get that close to you again.”

“Any man who lays a finger on you will be damned when I get my hands on them”

a/n i wrote this on the train because when i saw the request i ran to it😀 here’s a quick run thru of what i want this series to be. this is so fucking insane oh my gosh and unserious. i want more of dark!possessive harry who can’t take a man saying a word to you.

[jezebelblues]

𝐀𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐔𝐒 | 𝐇.𝐒 𓆩♱𓆪

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐚𝐭, 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐛—𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲, 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫—𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐧—𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐚𝐫.

𝐂𝐖: smut18+ (p in v), implied consent, heavy sacrilegious elements, selling of soul, manipulation, blood, demonrry

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: approx 11.3k

❏ i know this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea but i hope some of you liked this !!! <3

masterlist

IN THE BEGINNING, he was nothing. neither light nor shadow, nor the name carved upon the breath of a thousand angels. before heaven, before rebellion, before the stars spat their first flames into the void, he was silence. harry had no name then, no purpose, no shape. his existence was the marrow of chaos, the pulse of something god himself could not contain. he was desire unbound, the ache of creation, the temptation that god wove into the fabric of his design.

but god, ever proud, sought to bury him beneath the weight of divinity.

and so it was written—let there be light.

light was a shackle, a cleaving blade that divided the holy from the profane. where harry’s essence once seeped through all things, god cast him down, shoving him into the periphery of existence. the angels sang their praises, their voices golden and bright, their hands lifting the heavens into being. harry, the silent pulse of all things forbidden, was hidden beneath their hymn.

but harry did not stay silent.

when lucifer fell, harry followed. not as a soldier, not as a companion, but as something older, hungrier. when the war in heaven turned brother against brother, harry moved through the carnage like a shadow, his presence sharp and unseen. the angels wept rivers, their feathers torn from their backs like leaves in a storm. michael’s blade sang, and lucifer screamed his defiance as the heavens split open. and harry, unseen, caught the blood of the fallen in his hands, drinking it like sacrament.

he descended into hell with lucifer, but he did not bow.

asmodeus, they called him. the demon of lust, the king of desire. but harry wore the name like a mask, his true self hidden beneath the myths men would later craft to make sense of his presence. he did not revel in lust alone. no—his was the sin that bore all others, the quiet devastation of the soul, the ache that turned men’s prayers into whispers of want.

he was the serpent in eden, not in body, but in spirit. his essence seeped into the apple before it ever touched eve’s hand, a sweetness that sang of something beyond god’s dominion. the fruit’s flesh broke beneath her teeth, and in that moment, harry smiled. for the first time, the world tasted him.

harry was no prince of hell, no ruler of legions. his dominion was not forged in flames but in flesh. where lucifer sought thrones, harry sought the softest parts of god’s creation, the places where the divine cracked beneath the weight of its own hypocrisy. he was the tremor in a priest’s voice as he uttered his vows, the heat in a widow’s chest as she knelt to pray, the shadow that lingered in the hearts of the faithful.

his presence was not an explosion but a creeping rot, a sweetness that curdled into decay. he moved through the centuries unseen, his influence whispered in the psalms and carved into the margins of holy texts. the saints who fell to their knees in ecstasy, the priests who burned in the fires of their own desire—these were his victories, small and quiet, but eternal.

but in the fourteenth century, as the plague swept across europe, harry found his hunger growing. the world had grown darker, its faith frayed and trembling. death ruled the land, its shadow cast across every village, every chapel. god’s silence was deafening, and harry stepped into the void it left behind.

he had walked among men before, his form shifting and fleeting, a phantom that touched dreams and slipped through the cracks of consciousness. but this time, he longed for something deeper. the plague had starved men of their faith, but harry wanted more than despair. he wanted worship, devotion, the kind of love that burned brighter than heaven’s light. and so, he took shape, his form a blasphemous echo of the angels he had once moved among.

he descended upon the earth as a man, his beauty unnatural, almost cruel. his green eyes burned with a hunger that no mortal could comprehend, his smile a mockery of god’s grace. he moved through the world like a fever, slipping into dreams, whispering into the minds of the devout.

and when he found her—her prayers trembling on her lips, her heart untouched by sin—he knew he had found his altar.

YN knelt on the stone floor before her bed, dusted with straws of hay and dirt yet to be swept. her hands pressed together so tightly they ached. the crucifix nailed to the wall above her loomed like an executioner's blade, the savior’s face cast in shadow as the meager light of the candles flickered against the damp walls.

"holy mother, guide me," she whispered, her breath trembling. "may i serve you in purity and devotion. may i serve you..."

the words caught in her throat.

only silence answered her.

THE dreams began the night her father announced her betrothal.

it was after supper, the fire crackling low, her father’s voice heavy with the weight of finality. the man he had chosen was a merchant—twice her age, twice widowed. a practical match, her father had said. a man of standing, of faith.

YN had nodded dutifully, her hands folded in her lap, her heart trembling like the flame on the candle before her. she had whispered a prayer of thanks to god that night, her knees pressing into the cold stone of her chamber floor, her lips moving with reverence. she prayed for strength, for purity, for the will to be a dutiful wife.

that was when he first came to her.

harry.

the name would come later, slipping through her trembling lips in the dark, as though it had always been there, coiled around her tongue like a serpent in eden.

at first, it was just the sense of being watched, the prickling heat crawling over her skin as she lay beneath the coarse linen of her blankets. she told herself it was nothing—her imagination, the aftertaste of nerves. but as she drifted toward sleep, the sensation grew heavier, like a weight pressing against her chest.

in the dream, the air shimmered like heat rising from desert sand. she stood in a place that was no place—a horizonless void, dark and infinite, lit only by a soft golden glow that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

and then, he was there.

he stood at the edge of her sight, just out of focus, his form a smudge of gold and shadow. his voice was a whisper, low and smooth, threading through her mind like silk. you are beautiful, he murmured, his words curling around her like a serpent. so faithful—so untouched by the rot of the world.

she tried to speak, but her voice caught in her throat, her tongue leaden with fear—or something deeper, something she could not name. he moved closer, still indistinct, his shape shifting like liquid gold in the flickering light.

do you love your god? he asked, his tone neither mocking nor kind, but something in between.

“yes.” she whispered, her voice trembling.

good. the word dripped from his lips, thick and honeyed, filling her with a sweetness that felt almost wrong. then show me.

her heart raced, her pulse pounding in her ears. she sank to her knees, her hands clasped tightly together, her prayer spilling from her lips in a hurried stream.

not to him, the voice interrupted, sharp and commanding.

she froze, her words faltering. the light around him pulsed, growing brighter, harsher, until she could barely see.

kneel to me.

her eyes flew open, her breath ragged, her body damp with sweat. the dream clung to her like a shroud, the words echoing in her mind as she sat up, clutching the cross at her neck. she prayed until dawn, her voice hoarse, the weight of the dream pressing against her like sin itself.

the next night, it happened again.

this time, she saw his face.

it was the face of an angel, but not the kind she had seen painted in the pages of her father’s bible. his beauty was cruel, his features too perfect, too sharp, his green eyes burning with an intensity that made her want to look away and yet drew her closer. his smile was a blade, cutting through her defenses with a single glance.

he stood before her, his hand outstretched. “come,” he bellowed, his voice a command and a plea all at once.

she took a step toward him, her feet moving against her will. the closer she came, the more she could feel it—that heat, that ache, that hunger.

“who are you?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

he tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as if amused. “you know who i am.”

“no,” she breathed, shaking her head. “i do not.”

his smile widened, cruel and knowing. “i am the sweetness you crave but cannot name. i am the ache that fills the hollow of your prayers. i am the shadow in the garden, the voice that whispered take and eat.”

her breath hitched, her knees buckling beneath her. she fell to the ground before him, trembling, her hands clutching at the hem of her gown.

her voice broke, her face twisting in despair. “you are a lie.”.

his laughter was soft, almost tender. “and yet, here you are, kneeling before me.”

his hand brushed against her cheek, and the touch sent a jolt through her, like fire licking at her skin. she flinched, but he caught her chin, tilting her face upward to meet his gaze.

“you will deny me.” his eyebrows furrowed, voice soft but unyielding. “you will curse me. you will pray for deliverance. and yet, you will return to me.”

she woke with his laughter ringing in her ears, her body trembling, her chest tight with something that felt like both shame and longing.

the dreams continued, night after night.

she stopped praying before bed, her faith fraying like a thread pulled too tight. the cross at her neck felt heavier, colder, as if it had become a burden instead of a comfort.

by the end of the week, she was afraid to sleep. but it did not matter. whether awake or dreaming, he was there.

he lingered at the edges of her mind, his presence a constant hum beneath her thoughts. she saw him in the curve of a candle’s flame, in the flicker of sunlight through the chapel’s stained glass, the contemptible ache that burned the pit of her stomach. his voice haunted her prayers, turning her words into whispers of doubt.

and then, one night, he was no longer a dream.

he stood in the shadows of her chamber, his eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. she sat frozen in her bed, her breath caught somewhere at the top of her throat as he stepped into the moonlight, his beauty sharp and terrible, his smile a mockery of grace.

“you called for me.”

“i did not.” she whispered, clutching the blanket to her chest.

“oh, but you did.” harry drawled, dripping with feigned sincerity.

he knelt before her, his hands resting on the edge of the bed, his gaze locking her in place. "it was the fever in your chest, the tremble in your hands as you clasped them in prayer. it was the sigh that escaped your lips as you dreamed of me.”

her breath hitched, her face burning with shame as his words carved through her, exposing her, leaving her bare.

"it was the heat between your thighs grieving my absence.” he continued, his voice a velvet knife, slicing through her defenses. "the ache that settled deep in your belly, curling low and sweet like forbidden fruit. it was the way your body sang for me, even as your lips cursed my name."

she turned her face away, her cheeks wet with tears she hadn't realized were falling.

"look at me," he commanded, his tone soft but unyielding.

her eyes snapped back to his, and the weight of his presence pressed down on her like the crushing weight of sin itself.

put to death therefore what is earthly in you: sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness, which is idolatry

harry laughed, deep and cruel, a sound that slithered beneath her skin and coiled around her spine. “do you think your god’s design was flawless? he made you flesh and then called you sinful for feeling it.” his lips were that of the spring berries as he smiled, the faintest stretch of rose.

the scripture would rattle louder in her mind, her lips mouthing the words in a silent, desperate prayer. harry would tilt his head, watching her with an expression that was both pitying and predatory, as though she were a lamb brought before the slaughter. “no prayer, no scripture, no god will efface the truth. you weren’t made to flee from this—you were made to burn.”

”no–“

he leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered, "you cannot lie to me, little one. your god may turn a blind eye to the truth of you, but i see it all."

his lips brushed against the shell of her ear, so light it felt like a specter’s touch, but it sent a jolt through her that left her trembling. "and you will call to me, YN.”

ONE day without him was a reprieve, though it did not feel like mercy.

her chest still ached with the weight of the dreams, her thoughts burdened by the lingering whisper of his voice. the sunlight felt sharper that day, the world too bright, too loud. every moment dragged her closer to evening, and she feared the coming of night as much as she longed for its veil.

but the dreams did not come.

that night, her sleep was empty, untouched by his presence. she woke feeling as hollow as the silence he had left behind, her body too cold without the phantom heat of him pressing against her. she prayed that morning, her knees bruised against the stone of her chamber floor, but her words felt hollow, like they were falling into an abyss.

god had not answered. neither had he.

by the time the sun dipped low on the horizon, YN’s mind was frayed, her soul heavy with both relief and dread. she lit a candle and made her way to the small shack her father had built behind the cottage—a sacred place, he called it.

it was little more than a wooden skeleton, the walls warped with time, the roof patched with hay. the wooden crucifix her father had carved hung above a stone altar, its edges blackened with the blood of lambs offered in sacrifice. the air was thick with the smell of wax and ash, the shadows heavy and alive in the flickering candlelight.

she knelt before the altar, the cold of the stone biting into her knees. her hands clasped tightly together, her head bowed, her lips moving in whispered prayer.

“father in heaven, hear me,” she began, her voice trembling. “i am weak. i am lost. guide me, cleanse me, protect me from the darkness that seeks to devour my soul.”

the words felt brittle, as if they might shatter under their own weight.

“deliver me from temptation,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “deliver me from—”

“—yourself?”

the voice echoed through the shack, low and mocking, sending a shiver down her spine. her breath caught, her body freezing in place.

“you ask for deliverance from the one thing you cannot escape.”

she turned her head slowly, her heart pounding as she saw him standing in the shadows. his beauty was sharper here, crueler, as if the walls of this sacred place brought out the worst in him.

“you shouldn’t be here,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“oh, but i should,” harry said, stepping closer, his movements fluid and calculated. “what better place for me to be? this is where your faith lies, after all. broken and bleeding on that stone.”

he gestured toward the altar, his smile wicked. “how many lambs have been slaughtered here, their blood spilling in vain as your father begged his god to hear him? tell me, little one, how often has he answered?”

she flinched, her hands clutching at her dress, but she couldn’t look away.

“you kneel before this altar as if it can save you,” he paused, his voice a low purr. “but your prayers are nothing more than empty words, falling on deaf ears. your god doesn’t listen, YN. he never has.”

“stop,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“why should i?” he asked, tilting his head, his eyes pines blanketed in fog. “why should i hold my tongue when the truth is so deliciously plain? look at this place—this shrine to a silent god. the blood stains the stone, the candles burn low, and still, you kneel.”

he stepped closer, the heat of his presence overwhelming her, suffocating.

“you pray to him, and yet your body longs for me.” his voice was a velvet knife. “your lips speak his name, but your soul cries out for mine. every breath you take in this place is a mockery of the faith you claim to hold.”

“you lie,” she spat, her voice trembling.

“do i?”

he reached out, his fingers brushing against the wooden crucifix that hung above the altar. his touch was gentle, reverent almost, but his eyes burned with something dark, something unholy.

"stop.” YN insisted, her voice rising. "you cannot defile this place."

"cannot?" he echoed, his smile widening. "little lamb, i have been defiling sacred places since the stones were first laid."

"get out," she hissed, her voice trembling.

he tilted his head, feigning confusion. "why? am i not welcome in my father's house?"

"you are no son of god.” she bit, her nails digging into her palms.

he laughed, a low, resonant sound that seemed to reverberate off the walls and whisper malevolence. “this,” he said, his voice soft but laced with venom, “is not salvation. it is a symbol of failure. your god hangs here, broken and bleeding, a man nailed to wood, unable to save himself, let alone you.”

her breath hitched, her chest tightening as his words carved through her. the candles burned lower, their flames flickering as if suffocating. the crucifix above them groaned, the carved figure of christ seeming to shift, his eyes now open, his mouth twisted in a silent scream.

“he is not here,” he continued, his tone dripping with mockery. “but i am. i have always been here, in the shadows, in the spaces where your god’s light does not reach.”

he turned to her then, his eyes locking with hers. “kneel to me, YN.” harry exhorted. “kneel to the one who hears you, who sees you, who wants you.”

her body trembled, her knees threatening to give out beneath her. she clutched the edge of the altar, her knuckles white, her breath ragged.

“i will not,” she whispered, though her voice wavered with the weight of the lie.

he smiled, a predator’s smile, and took another step closer. "blessed are the pure in heart," he recited softly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "and yet here you are, YN. your prayers stained with want, your purity burned away by the fire in your chest. tell me, little lamb—what does your god see when he looks at you now?"

DREAMS came to her again last night, wrapping around her like silk soaked in poison. she woke with the taste of copper on her tongue. the air was thick, rancid, like meat left to rot.

but it was saturday, and there was no room for weakness on the sabbath.

her father had already dressed in his fine woolen cloak, his voice sharp as he called for her to hurry. she obeyed, tying her hair beneath her veil, clasping the cross at her neck with trembling fingers.

her steps dragged as she and her father walked to the chapel, the congregation gathering like crows around carrion. the chapel’s crooked steeple cast a shadow across the field, its bell tolling low and mournful. the holy place felt like a maw, swallowing her whole.

the priest’s voice boomed as the congregation kneeled on the dirt floor, their heads bowed.

“let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts; let him return to the lord, that he may have compassion on him, and to our god, for he will abundantly pardon.”

the words struck YN like a lash, her heart thundering in her chest as she whispered the verse under her breath. she gripped the wooden bench in front of her, her knuckles white, trying to anchor herself.

“compassion,” the priest intoned, his hands raised high. “he calls to us, even now, though we are unworthy. he calls to the sinners, the straying sheep. come back to him, my children. return to the lord.”

a low chuckle coiled through the air, faint as the flicker of a candle but unmistakable. YN’s stomach dropped.

“do you believe that?” the voice whispered, warm and mocking, curling behind her ear. “that he’ll pardon you? that he’ll save you from me?”

she didn’t dare lift her head.

“seek your servant, for I do not forget your commandments,” the priest continued, his voice heavy with fervor.

“he’s lying,” harry purred, his voice like velvet dragged over glass.

YN’s breath caught in her throat.

“you’ve forgotten every commandment that matters,” harry continued, his tone soft, intimate. “what about the one that said, thou shalt not covet? because you do. every night, in your dreams, you covet me. and your god?” he growled, low and mocking. “he watches.”

her body trembled, her fingers digging into the rough wood as the priest’s voice rose.

“i have gone astray like a lost sheep; seek your servant, for i do not forget your commandments.”

harry’s laughter slithered through her mind, dark and sharp. “you are a lost sheep,” he said, his voice dripping with mock pity. “but he doesn’t seek you, little one. he sent me instead.”

she gritted her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut as the priest called for the hymn. the congregation rose to their feet, their voices low and discordant as they sang, the words clawing at the stale air.

“holy father, forgive us, for we have sinned. purify our hearts, that we may walk in your light…”

“his light,” he scoffed, his voice like a knife slicing through the hymn. “look around you. this chapel is a tomb. the life you sacrifice, the blood you spilled—it did nothing. and still, you sing to a god who leaves you on your knees, begging.”

YN’s voice faltered, the hymn dying in her throat.

“keep singing,” he whispered, his voice a noose around her throat. “pretend he can hear you. pretend this is not the cry of the forsaken.”

her breath came fast, her chest tight as she darted a glance toward the altar. the priest stood with his arms raised, his back to the congregation. behind him, barely visible in the flickering light, stood harry.

he was leaning against stone altar, eyes gleaming with amusement. his beauty was stark against the dark stone, his smile sharp and cruel. he dipped his fingers into the chalice of wine and brought them to his lips, licking the crimson liquid from his skin with deliberate ease.

“the blood of christ,” he murmured, tilting his head. “does it taste like salvation? or does it taste like rot?”

YN’s stomach twisted, her knees trembling as she clutched the back of the pew for support.

“your god demands sacrifice, little one. a lamb, a son, a savior nailed to wood. i demand nothing but you.”

the priest turned, lifting the chalice high. “this is the blood of christ, shed for us, that we may be cleansed of sin.”

harry grinned, his teeth glinting like ivory in the dim light. “if you drink it, will it stop the ache?” he asked, his voice low and taunting. “will it fill the hollow i left in you? or will it only make you hungrier?”

her legs buckled, and she sank back onto the bench, her body trembling.

“stand,” her father hissed under his breath, his grip biting into her arm.

“i can’t,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

“you can,” harry said, stepping closer, his eyes locking with hers. “you will. for you know i’m watching.”

the congregation knelt again, murmuring prayers of repentance. YN bowed her head, her heart pounding as she forced the words to her lips.

“forgive me, lord, for i have sinned…”

“no,” harry growled like a prayer ripped inside out. “not him. me.”

his shadow loomed over her, heavy and oppressive, and when she dared to lift her head, he was standing directly before her. his gaze burned with something dark, something primal, and his smile was a blade pressed to her throat.

“pray to me, little lamb,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding. “ask me to deliver you. beg me for salvation.”

she squeezed her eyes shut, tears slipping down her cheeks as her lips moved in silent prayer.

“your god isn’t listening,” he said, his voice soft and cold. “but i am.”

when she opened her eyes, he was gone. but the air still burned, his words etched into her mind like scripture written with flames.

THE day was gray, heavy with the weight of a coming storm, but YN could not wait for the skies to break. her soul was breaking already.

the dreams were unbearable now. waking was worse. her every breath felt like a prayer unspoken, each step an act of penance for sins she could not name aloud. her father noticed the dark circles beneath her eyes, the tremor in her hands, but he only frowned and muttered about weakness.

"pray harder," he told her.

so she did.

the confessional was cold, the air thick with damp and the faint smell of rot. YN knelt on the rough wood, her skirts pooling around her as she folded her hands tightly, her knuckles white. the small window before her was shuttered, and through the slats came the low rasp of the priest's breathing.

the priest’s voice came soft through the slats. “speak, child. let your sins fall from your lips, and god will wash them away.”

she trembled, unsure if her words could even be spoken aloud. “father, i am… i am haunted.” her voice broke, shaking with shame. “in dreams. a man—no, not a man. something else. he comes to me, tempts me, mocks my prayers. i try to resist, but he—”

her voice failed.

the priest made a low noise of understanding, his tone grave. “the devil comes in many forms, child. his beauty is meant to deceive, his words to ensnare. you must resist him. confess fully, and god will grant you the strength to drive him away.”

YN’s lips parted to respond, but the air changed. the confessional grew darker, the candlelight flickering weakly. the priest’s breathing faltered, replaced by a sound she knew too well.

laughter. low, rich, and far too familiar.

“resist me?” the voice came smooth and mocking, curling through the air like incense. “you could no sooner resist the tide than resist me.”

YN’s blood turned to ice. her nails digging into her palms as she whispered, “no. not here.”

“oh, but here,” his tone was laced in wicked amusement. “this is perfect. isn’t this where you come to bare your soul? where you whisper all your secrets, hoping your silent god will hear?”

“leave,” she hissed, her voice shaking.

his laugh deepened, almost tender. “and rob myself of the pleasure of hearing what you truly want to say?”

her throat tightened as she pressed her hands together, forcing her trembling lips into a prayer.

“our father, who art in heaven—”

“—has forsaken you,” he interrupted, his voice a sharp, blasphemous mimic of reverence. “your father doesn’t want you, little lamb. he gave you to me the moment your knees hit the floor. what did you think he’d do? save you?”

she squeezed her eyes shut, her voice trembling. “hallowed be thy name.”

“yes, hallowed,” he purred. “and hallowed is the way you whisper my name in the dark. tell me, YN, when you kneel like this, do you imagine it’s for him?”

her hands flew to her ears, trying to block him out, but his voice only grew louder, more insistent.

“stop hiding,” he spit, his tone sharp now, demanding. “tell him the truth. tell him how your thighs tremble when i’m near, how your breath catches when i speak your name. tell him about the ache that wakes you in the night, the way you burn for me even when you beg for deliverance.”

her breath came in gasps, her body trembling. “you’re lying,” she choked out, her voice breaking.

“am i?” he asked, leaning closer. the confessional creaked as if straining to contain him. “then why are you here? not to confess, surely. no, you came here hoping i’d follow. hoping i’d find you, press close, whisper in your ear.”

the wood slats separating them seemed too thin, too fragile, and the air grew stifling.

“take and eat, little lamb,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate. “for this is my body, given for you.”

her stomach twisted, shame and something more burning hot in her veins.

“this god of yours,” harry continued, his voice a cruel mockery of the priest’s measured tone. “he asks for everything and gives you nothing. he demands blood, obedience, sacrifice. what do i ask for?”

she shook her head, trembling. “leave me alone.”

“what do i ask for?” he repeated, his voice louder, harsher now, like a crack of thunder. “your pleasure. your desire. the things you deny even to yourself.”

the priest’s voice broke through the haze, faint but steady. “child, speak. what is it you see?”

YN opened her eyes, her breath coming in shallow gasps. through the slats, the priest sat motionless, his eyes half-lidded and dull, as though he were barely there.

“he doesn’t even know i’m here,” harry laughed softly. “they never do. blind sheep, praying to an empty sky. but you see me, don’t you, YN? you feel me.”

she stumbled from the confessional, her knees weak, her chest heaving as she staggered toward the altar. the chapel spun around her, the walls closing in, but she dropped to her knees again, clutching the cold stone with desperate hands.

she looked up, her gaze drawn to the crucifix, and her breath caught in her throat.

christ's face, carved from pale wood, seemed to shift in the trembling candlelight. his eyes, once serene, now seemed to stare down upon her with sorrow—or was it accusation? the wounds on his hands and side bled afresh, crimson rivulets that ran down his body and dripped onto the altar.

she stifled a choke. “forgive me, father,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “for i have sinned.”

but the words felt hollow, her prayers cracking under the weight of his voice as it lingered in her mind.

“your god isn’t listening,” harry murmured, his tone soft but unrelenting. “but i am.”

the shadows seemed to twist around her, thick and suffocating, and for a moment, she thought she felt his hand ghost across her cheek. she cried out, pressing her forehead to the stone as the chapel grew silent once more.

but even as she prayed, she could feel him there, watching, waiting.

IT was well past midnight when YN woke with a start, the air in her chamber cold and heavy. the faint light of the moon filtered through the small window, casting pale streaks across the floor. her heart was racing, though she couldn't remember dreaming. perhaps it was the silence itself that had startled her, the kind of silence that felt alive, that pressed against her ears and made the hairs on her neck rise.

then she heard it.

a soft scrape, the barest shift of weight on old stone. her breath caught as her eyes darted toward the corner of the room. at first, there was nothing—just shadow. but the longer she stared, the more the shadows seemed to thicken, pooling together, forming a shape.

and then he stepped into the light.

he looked more human now than he ever had in her dreams, though the sheer perfection of him was anything but mortal. his green eyes glowed faintly in the darkness, sharp and predatory, their color like fresh spring leaves glistening with dew. his curls fell loose around his face, framing features so flawless they felt like an insult to the world that had made her.

he was bare from the waist up, his skin pale as marble, his chest broad and smooth. faint scars crisscrossed his arms and shoulders, not marks of war but something deeper, older, like remnants of a punishment she couldn't begin to fathom. he was beautiful in the way a blade is beautiful—gleaming, deadly, meant to draw blood.

YN's breath came fast and shallow, her body frozen in place as he moved closer. his steps were slow, deliberate, each one making the air between them heavier.

"you didn't dream of me tonight," he said softly, his voice low, almost conversational.

her breath caught as she clutched her blanket tightly.

"did you miss me?"

"no," she whispered, though her voice trembled.

his smile widened, wicked and knowing. "liar."

he stepped closer, and the shadows seemed to follow him, pooling at his feet like they belonged to him.

"why are you here?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

he tilted his head, his green eyes gleaming as he looked at her. "why do you think?"

"leave me be," she whispered, her hands gripping the cross around her neck.

his gaze dropped to it, his smile softening into something crueler. "that again," he muttered, moving closer. "you think it'll save you?"

he reached out, his hand brushing lightly over the cross. it burned hot against her skin, the chain snapping and falling into his palm. the cross itself turned black beneath his touch, the wood cracking, the air around it heavy with the smell of smoke.

YN gasped, her hand flying to her throat as he let the ruined cross clatter to the floor. "you clutch at your symbols like they mean something," he grumbled, his voice rich with disdain. "your god's little trinkets. do you think they'll stop me?"

her breath came fast, her body trembling as he knelt before her, his face level with hers.

"don't," she managed, her voice breaking. but it held no real conviction.

his lips twitched, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest as he leaned closer, the heat of him suffocating. "don't what? don't touch your meek toys? or don't touch you?"

his hand lifted, slow and calculating, until his fingertips brushed the edge of the blanket covering her legs.

"i see the way you tremble," he murmured, his voice like silk pulled taut. "not with fear. no, this is something else."

“stop.”

"why?" he asked, his tone soft, almost gentle. "why should i stop, when your body begs me to keep going? when your cunt weeps my name, even as your lips say no?"

her face burned, shame twisting in her chest as she shook her head violently. "no. you're lying."

it felt even more shameful that she was the one who lied.

his smile widened, sharp and predatory. "am i?"

his hand dragged up her leg, slowly, the blanket slipping as his fingers grazed her bare skin. her body jolted at the touch, a heat blooming deep in her belly that she tried desperately to ignore.

"there it is," he said softly, his eyes locking with hers. "that flame. you try so hard to smother it, to pretend it's not there. but it is, YN. it always has been."

"you're wrong," she said, though her voice faltered.

his hand paused, resting just above her knee, his thumb brushing in slow circles against her skin. "am i?" he asked, his tone low, teasing. "then why are you shaking? why does your breath hitch when i'm near?"

she clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms as tears pricked her eyes. her desires were red hot, searing and damning—it could blind her.

"there's no shame in it, little lamb." he murmured, his voice soft and coaxing. "desire is the most human thing about you. even the saints, even the martyrs—they all burned with it. they lied to themselves, called it devotion, but you..." his hand slid higher, his touch light but deliberate. "...you feel it for what it is. don't you?"

her body shuddered, heat and shame twisting together in her chest. "no," she whispered, her voice breaking.

his laughter was soft, warm, like a lover's. "you keep saying that, but your body tells me otherwise. it sings for me, YN. every breath, every tremble, every beat of your heart—it's all for me."

his hand left her leg suddenly, the loss of his touch almost startling. it felt wrong to miss it. but she shifted in her bed, tucking her legs beneath her.

he rose to his feet, towering over her, his presence heavy and oppressive. "look at you," he pouted, his voice low and mocking. "kneeling there like a lamb before the slaughter. tell me, YN—when you kneel to your god, does it feel like this?"

her head snapped up, her breath coming in ragged gasps as tears streaked her cheeks. "you're vile," she spat, her voice trembling.

his smile didn’t waver, ��and yet you crave me.”

her lips parted to deny him again, but no words came.

"pray to him," he said suddenly, his tone sharp. "pray to your silent god. beg him to take me away. go on."

her hands shook as she clasped them together, her lips moving in a hurried, whispered prayer.

"louder," he demanded, his voice a growl.

she choked on the words, her voice faltering.

"he doesn't hear you," harry breathed, leaning down, his eyes burning. "but i do. i hear every word, every plea, every desperate little gasp."

his hand brushed against her cheek, light as a whisper, and her body flinched at the heat of his touch. "and i'll return to you.”

then he was gone, leaving her alone in the stifling darkness.

YN collapsed onto the floor, clutching the blackened cross in her trembling hands. her prayers spilled from her lips in frantic, broken whispers, but her chest ached with the weight of him, her shame twisting into something darker.

your body tells me otherwise.

the words echoed in her mind, and no matter how hard she prayed, she couldn't silence them.

and part of her didn’t want them to be silenced.

THE festival was a rare indulgence, but one that brought the village together in a brief, fragile joy. the green had been cleared of mud and manure, and stalls were hastily built from rough-hewn wood to hold baked breads, sugared apples, salted fish, and honeyed wine. ribbons of faded red and gold hung between posts, fluttering weakly in the breeze, a half-hearted attempt at gaiety. the villagers gathered in their sunday best—threadbare cloaks and patched tunics, the smell of sweat and smoke clinging to the air.

YN moved stiffly beside her father, her eyes fixed on the ground as he gripped her arm with a hand calloused from years of tilling the fields. his voice, rough and impatient, barked orders as they wove through the crowd. “stand straight. do not fidget. the merchant will see you soon.” he snapped, his words a command, not comfort.

her stomach churned at the thought. she had heard of the man—léonard. old, jowled, his hands thick with grease and his temper legendary. his two previous wives had died, and the rumors whispered that it was grief that drove him to cruelty. others muttered darker things.

“a match is a blessing,” her father had said weeks before, his face dark as a storm. “you will not shame this family with resistance. god’s will is clear—obedience to your husband, salvation through servitude. you will thank him for this.”

YN bit the inside of her cheek, her throat tight as her father led her through the crowd. laughter and shouting mingled with the braying of goats and the clatter of wagon wheels, but it all felt far away, a blur against the rising dread in her chest.

and then she saw him.

harry.

he was standing near one of the stalls, his green eyes fixed on her, gleaming like firelight through emerald glass. he leaned casually against a post, shirtless, his pale skin a stark contrast to the coarse linens and wool around him.

no one else seemed to notice him.

her breath hitched as he began to move, threading through the crowd with a predator’s ease. his presence was heavy, suffocating, even as he stayed just far enough away to keep her guessing.

her father stopped abruptly, and she nearly stumbled into him.

“he’s here.” her father muttered, his voice heavy with satisfaction.

her gaze snapped forward, and there he was—léonard.

his cloak was fine but stained, the dark fabric stretched tight over his rounded belly. his face was ruddy, his jowls trembling as he spoke, his voice low and wet, like the squelch of mud beneath boots.

“so this is the girl,” léonard paused, his beady eyes scanning her from head to toe. “she’ll bear fine sons, i’m sure.”

YN’s cheeks burned as her father grunted his agreement.

“come closer, girl,” he barked, motioning her forward.

she stepped forward reluctantly, her body tense, her hands clasped tightly together.

and then she felt it.

a touch, light as silk, sliding along the small of her back. her breath caught as harry’s voice curled through her mind.

“look at him,” he purred, his tone rich with disdain. “smells like pig’s blood and sour ale. this is the man your father chose for you? a shepherd fattened for slaughter?”

her knees weakened as his hand slid lower, his touch teasing but firm.

“stop,” she whispered under her breath, her voice trembling.

léonard raised a brow. “speak up, girl.”

harry chuckled darkly, his breath warm against her ear. “sheep don’t speak,” he said, his tone a mockery of scripture. “they follow.”

her body stiffened as his hand crept to her hip, his fingers pressing lightly, just enough to make her shiver.

“obedience,” he murmured, his lips brushing the curve of her ear. “isn’t that what they want from you? isn’t that what your god demands? kneel, obey, bleed. it’s a wonder they don’t ask you to thank them for it.”

léonard was still speaking, his voice droning on about dowries and blessings, but it was muffled now, like the buzz of flies over something rotting.

“look at him,” he whispered. “look at the way his lips move, spilling lies and demands. do you smell it, little one? the decay beneath gold? this is what they call god’s will.”

her breath hitched as harry’s hand moved to her thigh, his fingers dragging upward slowly, teasingly.

“you could scream right now,” his voice was low and taunting. “and no one would care. they’d blame you for it. your father would say it’s your fault. your god would call it a test. but me? i’d enjoy it.”

“enough,” she hissed under her breath, her voice trembling.

léonard frowned. “what did you say?”

he laughed, his eyes gleaming. “tell him, little lamb. tell him what you really want to say.”

YN’s heart raced as harry stepped around her, moving behind léonard.

“this is what you’ll wake up to every morning,” he taunted, gesturing to the man’s bulk, his jowls, the faint stink of sweat and blood. “this is your future. do you see it?”

he tilted his head, his lips curling into a wicked smile.

“let me show you.”

before she could respond, harry reached out, and suddenly léonard’s throat was slit, a jagged, gaping wound spilling blood in thick rivulets. his mouth moved silently, his eyes wide with shock as he stumbled back, gurgling, before collapsing to the ground.

her breath caught in her throat, her body frozen in horror.

harry knelt beside the body, his fingers dipping into the blood and lifting it to his lips. “the blood of the lamb,” he said, his tone rich with mockery. “shed for you. do you feel saved yet?”

her knees buckled, and she grabbed at her skirts, trembling.

“YN!” her father barked, his voice sharp.

she blinked, and léonard was standing again, unharmed, his voice droning on as if nothing had happened.

harry stood beside him, his eyes locked on hers, his smile wicked. “just a taste,” he mumbled. “but you see it now, don’t you? the rot. the lie. tell me you want more.”

her chest heaved, her breath shallow as she tore her gaze away, trembling. “i… i need a moment.” she stammered, fleeing before her father could object.

YN's feet moved without thought, her breath shallow and uneven as she fled toward the trees at the edge of the green. the sounds of the festival faded behind her—laughter, clinking mugs, the low hum of a hymn sung off-key. she stumbled into the shadows, her back pressing against the rough bark of a tree as her hands trembled against her skirts.

her heart pounded as she clenched her eyes shut, willing the sickening image of léonard's torn throat to leave her mind. the blood. the gurgling.

the way harry had knelt so casually beside the body, his fingers trailing through the crimson spill like it was honey.

"it wasn't real," she whispered, her voice shaking. "it wasn't real."

"oh, but it could be."

her eyes snapped open, and there he was.

he stood a few paces away, leaning casually against another tree, his eyes bright even in the dim light. he looked impossibly at ease, his shirtless torso pale and gleaming, the scars that marked his flesh carved from a divine hand.

her chest heaved as she pressed herself tighter against the tree, her knees trembling. "you’re vile," she spat, though the words came out weak, a desperate attempt to regain control.

harry’s smile widened, wicked and knowing. "yet here you are," he said softly, stepping closer. "running from him. running to me."

she pressed her back harder against the tree, the bark scraping through the thin fabric of her dress.

"leave me," she whispered, her voice trembling.

harry tilted his head, his curls catching the faint light, making him look more angel than demon. but his smile gave him away, all sharp edges and mockery. "leave you?" he repeated, taking a slow step closer. "but you're the one who called me here. the moment you fled, the moment you thought of me instead of your god."

"i didn't," she said quickly, her voice breaking, though she couldn't meet his eyes.

"liar." he murmured, closing the distance between them in a single stride.

the heat of him was overwhelming, pressing against her like a heavy shroud. his fingers reached for her, trailing along her jawline, his touch featherlight but impossible to ignore.

"do you know what you've done, little lamb?" he asked softly, his tone almost gentle. "you've brought me here. to this holy forest, where the air smells of prayer and sacrifice. do you think your god is watching now?"

she flinched, her lips trembling as she looked down. "he watches everything."

harry laughed, low and dark, turpentine—wearing her thin . "oh, YN. he does not watch you, if he was, would he have let me come so close?"

his fingers slipped beneath her chin, lifting her face until their eyes met. "would he have let you feel this?"

her breath hitched as his other hand trailed down, brushing over her waist, bunching the fabric of her dress in his fist. the coarse wool scraped against her skin as he gathered it higher, his green eyes never leaving hers.

"stop," she whispered, her voice trembling.

his smile widened, cruel and indulgent. "but you don't want me to stop," he said softly, his tone a mockery of tenderness. "you want me to keep going, to do what your god will not."

there was a moment of silence, eyes boring into one another as the trees shook in the breeze of whispers. “banish me.” he prodded, his eyebrows furrowed. “tell me to go and i will leave you.”

her chest heaved as she struggled to find her voice, to deny him, but the words tangled in her throat.

the faint glimmer of her damning shining through her cracked resolve.

"look at you," he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "trembling like a virgin sacrifice before the altar. but that's what you want, isn't it? to be taken. to feel something other than this cold, empty devotion."

"no," she choked out, though her body betrayed her, her legs weakening as he stepped closer, his body crowding hers against the tree.

"no?" he repeated, his voice a low growl. "then why aren't you pushing me away? why does your breath quicken when i touch you? why does your cunt sing for me, even now?"

his hand slipped lower, finding her thigh beneath her skirts. his touch was firm but slow, deliberate, as he dragged his fingers upward, his gaze locked on hers.

"your god asks for obedience," he uttered, his voice sharp and mocking. "he demands sacrifice. but i ask for nothing but this."

her knees buckled slightly as his fingers brushed the edge of her undergarments, the heat pooling low in her belly making her head spin.

"don't." she whispered, though her voice lacked conviction.

harry's free hand moved to her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. "don't lie to me, little lamb. i can taste the truth on your lips."

he leaned closer, his breath warm against her mouth. "say it," he urged, his voice low and commanding. "say you want me."

her breath came fast and shallow, her heart pounding as shame and desire tangled in her chest.

"say it.”

her resolve crumbled. "i-i want you," she choked out, her voice breaking.

she gasped, her hands clutching his arms while her face burned—shame and something darker twisting inside her as his fingers slipped beneath the thin fabric, finding her folds.

"there," he murmured, his tone soft and taunting. "that's the truth of you, YN. not the prayers, not the fasting, not the faith. this. this heat, this need, this sin. it's mine."

her nails bit into his skin, taut and firm underneath while his digits slid through her arousal, deliberate and unhurried.

"you'll deny it, of course," he hummed, eyes burning as he watched her. "you'll call it blasphemy, call it wrong. but it's not wrong, is it? it feels too good to be wrong."

she bit her lip, her breath coming in shallow gasps, her body trembling as he circled her clit with maddening precision.

when he withdrew his hand, her body lurched at the loss, her breath catching in her throat. harry's fingers glistened in the faint light, slick with her arousal, a damning testament to her betrayal.

"look at this," he breathed, holding his hand before her face. his eyes burned with triumph, his lips curling into a smile. "the fruit of your desire. forbidden, but oh, so sweet."

YN's lips trembled, her cheeks wet with tears as she tried to look away.

"no," he said sharply, his tone slicing through the air like a blade. "you don't get to turn away from this. from me. taste it, little lamb. taste what you've given me."

her stomach twisted as he pressed his fingers to her lips, the heat of his touch scorching her skin.

"open," he commanded, his voice low and unyielding.

she hesitated, her chest heaving with shame and fear.

"open," he said again, his voice softer now, almost coaxing. "you've come this far. don't turn back now."

her lips parted, a trembling act of surrender, and he slipped his fingers into her mouth. the taste was overwhelming—salt and heat and something darker, something that made her stomach clench and her body burn with ashamed desire.

"good girl.” he breathed, his tone a velvet caress. his eyes stayed locked on hers, watching every flicker of emotion that crossed her face.

when he pulled his fingers away, he let them trail down her chin, leaving a faint sheen behind.

"do you see it now?" he asked softly, his hand moving to cup her face. "do you see what you are?"

she shook her head, not trusting her voice.

his smile deepened, his thumb brushing over her trembling lips. “you do not see, hm?” he cooed, “you are mine by design, as eve was made for adam, as fire is made to burn."

she slid down the tree, her back scraping against the bark as she crumpled to the ground, her head in her hands.

harry crouched before her, his smile softening into something almost tender. "pray if you like," he murmured. "but it won't change the truth."

he stood then, his green eyes gleaming as he disappeared into the shadows, leaving her trembling and broken beneath the gnarled branches of the forest.

THE days following her surrender blurred together, each one heavier than the last. YN no longer prayed—not because she didn't want to, but because the words felt meaningless. they sat heavy on her tongue, unmoving, like stones lodged in her throat. every attempt at confession ended in silence, the weight of her sin pressing her knees deeper into the cold stone of the chapel floor.

and yet, it wasn't guilt that made her tremble in the quiet moments. it wasn't shame that kept her awake at night, her hands fisting her sheets as she tried to ignore the heat pooling low in her belly. it was him. the memory of his touch, his voice, his green eyes burning into hers as though they could see every thought she tried to hide.

she waited for him. every day, every night. and when he didn't come, it felt like torment.

it was near midnight when she woke to the smell of smoke.

at first, she thought the cottage was burning, but when she sat up, the air was still. no flames licked at the thatched roof, no shouts from her father broke the night. the smell was faint, clinging to her skin like an afterthought, mingling with the faint taste of ash on her tongue.

the shack was colder than she remembered.

YN stepped inside, her breath catching as the warped wooden door groaned shut behind her. the faint smell of damp wood and old blood clung to the air, a reminder of the offerings her father had made here long ago. candles sat in the corners of the room, their flames low and flickering, casting shadows that stretched like grasping hands across the walls.

and at the center of it all stood the altar.

its surface was dark with stains that time could not scrub away. her father's hands had held lambs there, muttering prayers as their blood spilled onto the stone. the altar had been a place of sacrifice, of devotion, of faith.

now, it was hers.

harry stood beside it, waiting. his bare chest gleamed in the candlelight, the scars that crossed his pale skin stark and unyielding. his eyes burned as they met hers, the corners of his mouth curling into a slow, knowing smile.

"you came," he murmured, his voice low, almost reverent.

her body trembled as she stepped closer, the worn planks beneath her feet creaking with every step. "you called for me.” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"are you afraid?" he asked, his voice a low hymn, the kind that made sinners weep.

YN's knees shook. her faith had been a crutch her entire life, a shield against the dark, but now that shield was splintered, discarded at her feet. she didn't want god anymore.

she wanted him.

"no," she lied, though her heart was a caged bird, its wings beating frantically against her ribs.

harry smiled. it was not a kind smile. it was the smile of a wolf, sharp and full of promise. he beckoned her closer with the wave of his hand, her steps light until she stood before him at the altar.

his hand reached for her, pale fingers curling around her throat. his grip was light, reverent, as though she were something holy, something to be cherished.

his mouth found hers, claiming her with a kiss that was both savage and tender, his lips devouring hers with a hunger that felt endless. her body melted against him, her resistance crumbling with every stroke of his tongue, every graze of his teeth.

his hands roamed her body, pulling at the coarse fabric of her dress, lifting it away from her skin with a reverence that felt almost mocking. when the cold air hit her bare flesh, she shivered, but his warmth was there, surrounding her, consuming her.

he looked at her like she was something sacred, a relic carved by divine hands. his eyes trailed over her shoulders, her breasts, her hips, lingering on the hollow of her throat where her pulse fluttered like a trapped moth.

"do you know,” his voice soft as a lover's whisper, "that heaven and hell both weep at the sight of you?"

her breath hitched, her cheeks burning as she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to shield herself from his gaze.

"don't," he said softly, his tone sharp but not unkind.

his hands reached for hers, pulling her arms away from her body. "don't hide from me, YN. not here. not now."

his hands moved over her then, slow and purposeful, tracing every curve, every line, as though committing her to memory.

"you're perfect," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "the most beautiful lie heaven has ever told."

her chest heaved as his hands slid to her waist, lifting her effortlessly onto the cold stone of the altar. the chill bit into her skin, sharp and unyielding, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his body as he stepped between her legs.

"do you feel it, little lamb?" harry murmured, his voice dark and smooth, the words curling into her ear like smoke. "the way your body aches for something more? the way your soul trembles at the edge of the void?"

YN gasped, her body trembling beneath him, every nerve alight with a sensation she couldn't name. she tried to speak, to protest, but when his fingers gripped her hips and dragged her closer, the words dissolved on her tongue.

"i'll make you feel heaven," he sighed against her lips, his voice a promise and a threat.

her mind swirled with panic and want, her hands pressing weakly against his chest. "this is... wrong," she whispered, her voice trembling.

"wrong?" harry repeated, a laugh slipping from his lips, low and mocking. "do you think the lamb is asked if it consents to the knife? do you think your god cares for your innocence, your purity? no, YN. you were born for this. to be taken. to be ruined."

before she could respond, he kissed her, and it wasn't the soft, tender act she had imagined in her prayers. his lips claimed hers with bruising intensity, his tongue forcing its way past her defenses, devouring her protests until there was nothing left but submission.

her hands, once pushing against him, now clutched at his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor her as the world seemed to shift beneath her.

his lips descended to her neck, his breath hot against her skin as he kissed the tender flesh just below her ear. she shuddered, her fingers tightening against into him as his teeth grazed her, a soft scrape that sent heat coursing through her veins.

her head fell back, a soft moan escaping her lips, and she hated herself for it. hated the way her body betrayed her, the way it arched toward him, desperate for his touch.

his body was a weapon forged of bone and muscle. he was naked, his skin a canvas of scars and shadows, his beauty as blasphemous as it was perfect.

"do you remember your scripture, YN?" he asked, his lips brushing her ear. "your body is a temple, isn't it?"

her breath came in short, desperate gasps. "yes.”.

"then let me worship."

the stone of the altar was cold against her back, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from his body. he moved with purpose, his hands firm on her thighs as he spread her open, exposing her in a way that made her breath hitch.

he shifted, pressing his hips against hers, and the hardness of his cock sent a shudder through her body. she gasped, her nails digging into his sides as he positioned himself between her thighs, his movements deliberate, torturous.

YN cried out, her back arching against the altar, her hands clutching at him as her body stretched to accommodate him. he fucked into her, the sensation overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure so intense it felt like her very soul was unraveling.

"that's it," he grunted, his voice thick with pleasure. "take me, little lamb.”

his hips moved, his thrusts deep and unforgiving, each one dragging a sound from her lips that she couldn't control. the rhythm of him was maddening, each movement sending a wave of heat crashing through her, building and building until she thought she might break.

"do you feel it?" he asked, his hand gripping her thigh, his fingers digging into her flesh. "do you feel heaven inside you? because it is not god who gives it to you. it is me."

YN's head fell back, her eyes squeezed shut as her body betrayed her, her hips rising to meet his with every thrust. she hated herself for the way her breath hitched, for the way her moans spilled from her lips like confessions.

"say it," he commanded, his voice low and rough, his hips driving into her with brutal precision. "say you find salvation in me."

her eyes flew open, meeting his gaze, and she saw it then—the green fire that burned in his eyes, the darkness that curled at the edges of his smile.

"say it," he demanded again, his pace quickening, his body relentless—a sacred place ricocheting with moans and wet slaps of skin against skin.

"i–" she gasped, her hands clawing at his back, her breath coming in ragged sobs.

"say it," he growled, his hand tangling in her hair, pulling her head back so that she had no choice but to look at him.

"i find salvation in you!" she cried, the words ripping from her throat like a scream.

his smile was triumphant, his lips descending to her throat, his teeth scraping against her skin as he drove into her harder, faster, each thrust filling her with a pleasure so sharp it bordered on agony.

her body tensed, her breath catching as the pleasure crested, shattering over her like a wave. she cried out, her voice echoing through the chapel, a sound of both ecstasy and despair.

as she fell apart beneath him, she felt the final pieces of her faith crumble, her soul slipping from her grasp and into his hands.

harry stilled above her, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "you were always meant for this. for me."

the shack went still. the candles burned low, their wax pooling onto the cracked wooden floor, the flames flickering weakly as if ashamed of what they had witnessed. the air was heavy, thick with the scent of sweat and smoke and something darker. the altar was cold beneath YN’s bare back, but she no longer felt it.

the space seemed different now. even as moonlight spilled through cracks in the wood, painting the ruins in pale silver, there was no pretense of holiness. the crucifix above her hung crooked, the wooden christ staring down with lifeless eyes, mouth agape not in sacrifice but in mockery. if god was watching, he did nothing. no lightning struck. no thunder rolled.

she thought, for the first time, that perhaps he was never there at all.

what had she done?

the answer burned its way into her mind, not with guilt, but with a clarity so sharp it was almost cruel. she had abandoned heaven for him. traded salvation for damnation.

the weight of harry’s body pressed into her, his chest rising and falling against hers in a rhythm that was almost human. almost. her eyes were fixed on the ceiling, her breath shallow, her hands limp at her sides.

this was what she had feared, wasn’t it? the moment she’d run from, prayed against, begged god to prevent. and yet here she was, laid bare on the very altar her father had once sanctified with lamb’s blood. the same altar where prayers for forgiveness had echoed into the rafters, unanswered.

she could feel harry still on her, even as he moved away, the imprint of his body an ache that had lodged itself deep in her marrow.

the stone beneath her was unforgiving, just like the faith she had clung to for so long. faith that had demanded her knees break on cold chapel floors, her hands bleed as she tilled the earth in her father’s shadow, her heart ache as she bent to the will of a god who had never once spoken her name.

now, that faith lay in ruins.

she pushed herself up slowly, her limbs weak, her thighs slick with what they had done. the air bit at her skin, but she did not cover herself. there was no point. there was no shame left to cloak herself in.

harry stood near the altar, watching her. his naked body was a study in contrasts—smooth and unyielding, as though carved from alabaster, but alive with a heat that seemed to radiate from his very core. his beauty was inhuman, the kind that drew worship but offered no mercy in return.

his gaze on her was heavy, not with judgment but with possession. he had taken her, yes, but it wasn't force. it was inevitability. a dance they were always meant to perform.

YN swung her legs over the edge, her bare feet touching the cold stone floor. she thought of the animals her father had slaughtered here, the way their blood had run in thin rivulets down the grooves of the altar.

how fitting that she had bled here, too.

harry spoke no parting words, offered no promises. he didn't need to. what had happened was already written into her skin, her bones. it wasn't just her body he had claimed. it was her soul, and now it was marked, an unholy sigil that no prayer could erase.

when she stepped out into the night, the air was sharp and cold, the stars above indifferent and unmoving. but YN did not shiver. she felt warm, burning with a fire that no heaven or hell could extinguish.

there were no more prayers left on her lips. no scripture to guide her. there was only him, harry, and the path he had carved into her.

and as they disappeared into the forest's dark embrace, the shack and its altar remained behind, empty and silent, its walls whispering of a god who had abandoned it long ago.

[freedomfireflies]

One Day*

Summary: An extra for 404*

The one where you still hate Harry, but turns out, you might be having his baby.

Word Count: 5.4k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, spanking, brief choking, slight angst (happy ending), mentions of pregnancy and babies! *Please be so gentle with yourself and only continue if you feel comfortable! 💞*

“I’m late.”

“For what?”

You huff. “I’m late,” you repeat, gesturing frantically toward your hips. “A week late. Which I know can happen, but…not really to me, so…I’m late. And I think we’re fucked.”

Harry blinks. Looks down at your stomach. Looks up at your face. “Oh.”

“Oh?” You rear back. “That’s all you have to say for yourself is oh?”

He lifts his left shoulder in nonchalant shrug before flopping down onto your sofa. “I don’t know. What did you want me to say?”

“I…I don’t know,” you huff. “I kind of thought you’d…yell. Or freak out or something. Or ask me if I’m keeping it.”

“Do you want me to freak out?”

“Well…no. Not really.”

“Do you want to keep it?”

“I…I don’t know, I don’t even…I’m not even sure if I am yet or not.”

“Okay.” He nudges his glasses up before crossing his arms. “Well did you get a test?”

You glance toward the pharmacy bag still sitting on your kitchen counter. It’s been mocking you ever since you picked it up. Staring you down, sticking out its tongue. One, tiny little box that’ll determine the next chapter of your life. It’s almost infuriating. 

“Yeah,” you mumble. “I, um…got one on the way home from work.”

“Okay. Have you taken it yet?”

“Not…exactly.”

His brow raises. “Do you…need help or something?”

You scowl. “It’s peeing on a stick, I think I’ve got it covered.”

“Yeah, well, knowing you, you’d find a way to fuck it up.” He smirks. “Sure hope our baby gets my brains instead of yours.”

You grab the pillow beside him and give him a firm whack. “That’s not funny.”

He laughs as he winces. “Good. I wasn’t being funny.”

“Then, stop it. And stop being so calm.”

“You just said you preferred calm—”

“Well…it’s scaring me now. So what gives?”

Another shrug. “I don’t know. I just don’t really feel the need to waste a reaction on something we don’t even know is happening yet. Take the test and then I’ll freak out if you’d like.”

“You say that like someone that’s had a lot of pregnancy scares.”

He snorts. “No, I say that like someone who knows freaking out won’t exactly help you right now. So just take the goddamn test, Tinkerbell. And we’ll go from there.”

Unamused, but somehow slightly comforted, you oblige and snatch the box from the table before retreating to the bathroom.

Once the timer has been set, you slowly make your way back to him.

He’s still sitting on the sofa. Calm. Unaffected. Watching you without a care in the world. Like his whole life isn’t about to change. 

It drives you nuts.

“Five minutes,” you tell him.

He nods.

Warily, you sit in the chair to his left, staring holes through your shoes as your heart races inside your chest. You’re not sure how you got here. Not sure where you could possibly go. You aren’t ready for a baby. Not…yet. Especially not one with…him.

“Hey,” he calls, pulling your attention up. “S’the matter with you?”

Your eyes narrow. “What the hell do you think?”

Another casual shrug that makes your teeth grit. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“Happy?” You lean back. “Why on Earth would I be happy about getting stuck with your DNA for the rest of my life?”

He smiles. “I don’t know. You just seem like the type of girl to want a lot of babies.”

You scoff. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I am not.” You don’t think.

“Really? Is that why you begged me to breed you?”

“I didn’t actually mean it. That’s just what you say in a moment like that.”

His eyebrow raises.

You hesitate. “Did…did you mean it?”

“Kind of,” he admits. “I mean, yeah, maybe I didn’t mean right this second, but…I don’t hate the idea.”

“You actually want to be a father?” You snort. “Bullshit. You hate kids. I’ve seen you.”

“I don’t hate kids, I just don’t care about them when they aren’t mine.” He throws his arm over the back of the chair and smirks. “I like my nieces, though. They’re chill.”

You blink. “You…you have nieces? Wait, you have siblings?”

“Yeah. One brother. He’s got two kids and they’re cute as shit.”

“Oh.” Your head starts to pound. “See? We can’t have a baby when I don’t even know anything about you.”

He chuckles to himself before nodding his chin at you. “All right, fine. Go ahead. Ask me whatever.”

“What?”

“Ask me what you wanna know.”

You think. “Okay. How often do you see your family?”

“Often enough. They live in California, and they work a lot. But we call every couple of weeks.”

“Oh. That’s…surprisingly nice. Uh…do you have a history of disease in your family?”

He grins. “Excuse me?”

“I need to know what I’m getting myself into.” You motion at him. “Answer.”

“This isn’t an interview—”

“Answer.”

“No,” he says. “Not that I know of anyway.”

“Great. Do you plan to be a deadbeat father?”

His eyes roll. “I’m not dignifying that with a response.”

“So, yes? You do? Oh, great—”

“No, because that’s not a fair fucking question—”

“It is a fair question. If I have to raise this baby alone, I want to know—”

“Of course you wouldn’t fucking be alone. Do you really think so little of me—”

“I don’t think about you at all. How am I supposed to know what you’ll do—”

“I wouldn’t leave you alone,” he nearly snaps. He takes a breath to calm himself before adding, “Even if it wasn’t my baby, I wouldn’t leave you alone.”

Your lashes flutter and you can feel your heart lodging in your throat. “Fine. Last question.”

He waits.

“Did you ever want kids…before? With…her?”

He doesn’t have to think for very long, but the mention of her makes him smile. “Nah. We talked about it, but we weren’t ready. We liked it being just us, you know? We had a bunch of shit we wanted to do. We were a long way from babies and a white picket fence.”

You try to blink back the tears swimming their way to your eye. You can still see that beautiful picture of her in his room. An entire future of love and life and adventures that he lost. Now…he’s stuck with you.

“Oh,” you murmur.

His brows furrow. “What?”

“Nothing.” You swipe your knuckle along your cheek. “So, you probably still aren’t ready.”

“I didn’t say that.”

You give him an incredulous look. “Harry, come on. You aren’t ready for a baby. I’m not ready for a baby. We…we don’t know each other, we don’t like each other…we can’t do this. You know that.”

“Do I?” He leans forward. “It’s a baby, not a bomb. I think we can handle it.”

“Well, I don’t. You don’t even like me. You can’t have a baby with me.”

“Why not? People do it all the time.”

“But not us.” You give him a firm stare. “Harry, we love our jobs. We want careers, not kids. So having a baby kind of gets in the way of that. There’s…there’s diaper changes, and teething, and potty training—”

“So?”

“So. We don’t work together well. In fact, it’s a rather well-known fact that we don’t get along. We can’t possibly raise a kid. We’d ruin it.” You study him for a beat, unnerved by the nonchalance in his tone. “Why do I get the feeling you actually want this to be real?”

Another shrug and you nearly lunge at him. “I don’t know,” he murmurs, resting his elbows on his knees while he glances at the floor. “I’m older now. Maybe it’s time to…think about settling down.”

Your face scrunches. “Ew. That doesn’t sound like you at all.”

He laughs. “Look, I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it, but…maybe it could be a good thing.”

You stand from your chair and pace the length of your small living room. “This is crazy. This is crazy. I can’t have a baby, I’m…I’m not ready. I’m too young, I…I don’t even know what I’d do with one. Or if I even have a maternal instinct.”

“Probably not,” Harry offers, smirking when you glare. “You won’t really know until you have one.”

“Oh, great.”

“Listen, if you feel like you aren’t ready…we can find another alternative,” he says, softening his voice. “Okay? There are plenty of other options and we’ll find one you feel comfortable with.”

A tad wary of his sympathetic answer, you eye him closely. “Yeah? And what if we disagree?”

“We won’t,” he says calmly. “Your body, your decision.”

“Right,” you snort. “I’m sure.”

“I mean it. I wouldn’t be the one having to carry it.” He nods as though to reassure you. “Honestly, Tink. This would be your decision, one hundred percent. It’s not mine to make. Just to support.”

The tears rush a little faster as you sniffle and step closer. “You say that now, but what if I decide something you don’t like?”

“I will like it. I promise,” he murmurs, standing up in order to move toward you. “If you want to keep it, great. If you don’t, great.”

“I…I…” You suck in a deep breath, unable to slow the wild racing in your chest. “Fuck, I can’t…I don’t know—”

“Hey, okay, easy. Easy, Princess,” he says, quickly reaching out to take you in his arms and ease you against his chest. “Relax. Okay? Just breathe. Breathe for me.”

“I…I don’t think I can—”

“Yes, you can. You are.” His lips press to the top of your head while his hand runs up and down your back soothingly. “I’m right here. Do you hear me? I’m right here. You’re not alone. You won’t be alone. I promise.”

You squeeze your arms together and hold on with everything you have. Right now, he feels like your only anchor in the world. The only person strong enough to carry you both through to the other side. And for the first time since you met him…you feel glad that he’s here.

The two of you stand in the middle of the room for a long while before he finally murmurs, “I think it’s been five minutes.”

Your eyes close and you grip his shirt in your first. “I’m…I’m not ready to look.”

“Okay.” You can hear the smile in his response. “Okay, we can wait.”

So, you do as the truth starts to build in your chest. Inescapable, no matter how hard you try to swallow it down.

Finally, you can’t help but whisper, “You know what scares me the most?”

“Hm?”

“…that maybe I’m hoping it’s real.”

The apartment falls silent again. He doesn’t push you to elaborate, but you can feel his heart beating just a little faster inside his chest.

“I don’t know why,” you continue. “I don’t…I really don’t think I’m ready, but…but what if I should be? What if…what if we met and we started this because…because we were supposed to do this?”

He considers this. “Like fate.”

“Yeah.” You roll your lips into your mouth. “Because I still hate you. I do. I just…I’m starting to get this picture in my head of us. Being a family. Having a big house in a good school district. Tucking them into bed at night and reading them stories. Which is…dumb.”

“No,” he mumbles. “No, it’s not dumb. I’ve been thinking about it, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Because I meant what I said, I’d love to get you pregnant. You’d look really fucking hot.”

You chuckle. “Yes, so you’ve mentioned.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Uh…okay?”

He smirks. “I never had a breeding kink until I met you.”

You lean back and swat your hand across his chest. “You’re so annoying.”

“What? I’m being serious.” He grins and those dimples pop free. God, you hope your kids have his dimples—

No. Nope. You aren’t going there.

You shake your head, ridding yourself of the thought. “Whatever. You’re just horny.”

“Maybe. But it’s still true.” His gentle gaze sweeps across your face. “If you wanna do this…we’ll do it. You and me. We’ll have this baby, and we’ll raise it to be really smart, and funny, and to not take shit from anybody.”

You laugh, brushing away a few more tears. “Maybe we can teach it to write code.”

“Oh, fucking obviously.”

The two of you smile before the excitement seems to fizzle and Harry’s brows pull together.

“You know I don’t actually hate you, right?” he says.

You blink. “What?”

“I know that’s our thing, and I know you said it earlier, but…I don’t actually hate you. This baby wouldn’t grow up with two parents that don’t like each other.”

“Oh…I…I know.”

“Good. Because I don’t want that to be one of the reasons you think we can’t do it. I’d fucking love that baby. And I’d love you for carrying it.”

Instantly, you both seem to still. The four-letter word sounds so loud inside such a small room.

I’d love you.

He clears his throat, shifting a bit as he glances toward the kitchen. “I mean, I’d…I’d appreciate you for carrying it—”

“No, yeah, I know,” you stammer. “I know what you mean.”

“Good. Yeah.”

The two of you fall quiet again before you softly admit, “I think I’m ready to look.”

“Okay.” He squeezes your hip. “I’m right here.”

You take in a deep breath before begrudgingly pulling yourself out of his arms. You already miss his warmth and the way he felt like home and your stomach turns as you slip into the bathroom.

With trembling hands, you reach for the stick that sits on the edge of your sink. And in those three seconds, an entire lifetime flashes before your eyes. 

The good, the bad, and the everything in-between. You see a house and a dog and a big backyard. You see two little kids rolling in the grass and jumping into the pool. You hear them begging for a bedtime story and crying when they scrape their knee.

You see a dozen birthdays and holidays and visits to the zoo. You see their heartbreaks and triumphs, their successes and letdowns. You see a million goodnight kisses and cuddles on the couch. 

And then…you see Harry.

In every picture, every moment. Taking them to their first baseball game and picking them up from their first dance. Sneaking them into R-rated movies even after you explicitly said no and feeding them far too much candy and popcorn.

You see him teach your son how to tie a tie and dance with your daughter as she stands on his feet. You see him cooking breakfast in the kitchen, flour all over his face. You see him curled up in bed, his head on your chest, your fingers in his hair. You hear him tell you how happy he is. How glad that he found you.

It’s a beautiful life. Even if it’s not the one you imagined for yourself. And in that moment, you decide that it doesn’t matter what the test says. If that’s your future, so be it. 

As long as you get to live it with him.

“So?” Harry calls from the hall.

You swallow thickly and slowly glance down.

Negative.

Negative.

No baby. No pregnancy. No white-picket fence.

You stare at the test for at least a full minute. You aren’t sure how you feel. Relieved. Disappointed. Upset. Thankful. Confused.

“Tink?”

You turn around. “Uh…it’s negative,” you report, handing it to him. “False alarm. I guess I’m just late.”

He glances over the stick with a rather blank expression before looking at you. “Are you okay?”

You nod. “Yeah. This is definitely the better outcome. I’m just…”

“What?”

“I don’t know. I guess I was just starting to get used to the idea.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, handing it back. “I know.”

You throw the test away. “Sorry for making you come all the way over here for that.”

“Hey, whoa—” He strides into the bathroom. “What the fuck are you talking about? Of course I’d be here.”

“I just…I wasted your time. I should have taken it before I called you—”

“Tink,” he sighs, taking your cheeks in his hands. “Stop. You can always call me for shit like this.” He looks at you, then amends, “You can always me. For anything. You know that.”

A tear slips from your eye without warning, and you suck in a sharp breath. “I don’t know why I’m so disappointed. This is what I wanted—”

“I know,” he says gently. “I know. It’s hard.”

“Yeah.” You hiccup. “But this is good, right? This is better?”

For a moment, he says nothing. He simply stares at you with a rather sympathetic expression. Or maybe it’s forlorn. Maybe he’s disappointed. Upset that you aren’t giving him what he wants.

Then, he dips down to kiss the tip of your nose. “This is good,” he whispers, and you know he means it. “We would have figured it out. And you would have been a wonderful mom. But I know you. And I know you aren’t ready. Not yet.”

You close your eyes and melt into the feel of his palms against your skin. Into the way he reassures you and protects you all in the same breath. You never thought you’d feel so safe in the serenity of his touch, but here you are. Wishing for him to hold you forever.

“And when we are ready, we’ll do it on our terms,” he says. “Okay?”

Slowly, you nod. “This is good,” you repeat to yourself. “It is. Really. Things are going great at work, I’m finally secure financially, and even you and I are…kind of getting along.”

He smirks.

“This is good. This is better.” You repeat the mantra until you really believe it. “Besides, I probably wouldn’t have been a very good pregnant woman anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I feel like I’d be really cranky. Or needy. My ankles would get all swollen and I’d be hot all the time and nauseous and miserable. I’d probably try to kill you.”

“Oh, you’d definitely try to kill me. You try to kill me even when you aren’t pregnant.”

You gasp. “Rude.”

“What?” He chuckles again before his eyes slowly start to rake down your frame. “But I don’t know. I think it’ll be better than you think.”

You swat him again. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop trying to picture it.”

“Why? I told you, you’d look fucking hot.”

“Yeah…no.”

However, he only nods, moving in to subtly brush his lips against yours. “You would. Be so fucking beautiful carrying our baby. With your tits all swollen and your belly getting bigger every day.”

Truthfully, the image almost makes you grimace, but there’s something about the way he says it. The way he talks about you so reverently. A soft, sultry murmur that goes straight to your cunt. Because you know he’s not just saying it to say it. He means it. Believes it. Would do anything for it.

He tilts your head back, thumb brushing along your jaw. “And I think you like it,” he exhales. “I think you like the idea of holding me inside you. Having a part of me. Knowing that I did it to you. No one else.”

You suck in a soft breath, knees going just a bit weak. “Harry…”

“What, baby?” His mouth ghosts along your neck. “Are you thinking about it? Thinking about how pretty your tummy would look with me inside it?”

He’s evil. Absolutely evil, and you clear your throat in a desperate attempt to regain control of yourself. “Do you…have a pregnancy kink I don’t know about?” 

His lips quirk up. “Apparently.”

“Mm.” Your lashes flutter and the urge to kiss him grows stronger. “You know…some women get really horny when they’re pregnant.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Yeah. I don’t think you could handle it.”

He scoffs. “Oh, no?”

You shake your head. “I mean, do you really think you could keep up? Going for hours and hours on end? Trying to keep me satiated with your poor, limp little dick?”

He makes another noise, and you tsk.

“I mean, you can barely satisfy me now as it is. But if I was pregnant? Pfft. Forget it.”

Instantly, he’s snatching hold of your hips and yanking you against his chest. “Don’t fucking tempt me, Princess,” he nearly growls. “I’ll bend you over right now.”

“No, I don’t think you will,” you retort. “You’ve gone soft on me. Rubbing my back, kissing my hair. You wanna take care of me and honestly? It’s a little pathetic.”

His head cocks rather deviously and your pulse begins to skip. He could split you in half if he wanted to and you both know it. 

But that’s what you need right now. You don’t want to be coddled or looked after. You wanna be fucked. Tortured and teased until you’re begging for release.

You want an escape.

And in that moment, Harry decides to give you one.

He picks you up and carries you out of the bathroom while your legs quickly work to hook to his hips for stability and your arms snake around his neck.

He ignores your squeals and teasing huffs of annoyance, instead dropping you onto your mattress with a soft thud.

You glare and push up onto your elbows. “You know, you don’t have to manhandle me—”

“Shut up.”

He surges forward, lips gliding against yours as he takes a taste of you on his tongue. And kissing is easy with him. As easy breathing, like you’ve done it all your life. You know exactly what he likes, what he wants. And you give it him.

His glasses are cold against your face, keeping him from getting as close as he’d like, and after a moment, he huffs, and rips them off before tossing them aside. And even though you adore when he wears them, you happen to adore being near him even more.

Your hands are in his hair, tugging on his curls, scratching down his neck. He has the added advantage of being on top, but that doesn’t seem to stop him from turning to putty in your hands. Clay for you to mold to your liking. 

No matter how dominant he tries to be, he’s simply a man that needs to be told what to do. Taken care of. Shown. 

And you happen to like showing him.

You feel him tug on the hem of your shirt. “Off,” he breathes between carnal nips to your throat. “I want this off, Tink.”

Happy to oblige, you push him back so you can lift yourself up before you peel the fabric from your chest. You take your time with the bra, allowing the straps to fall down your arms oh so slowly. You don’t rush to reveal yourself to him, instead letting him anticipate you. Until his heart is racing and his eyes are darkening and he’s resisting the urge to do it himself.

But once he can finally see you, he nearly groans. “Oh, good fucking girl.” 

He resumes his work. More kisses are left to the warm, tender skin, and he happily sucks bruises into each swell and curve of your breast before teasing the nipple with his tongue. His hands are greedy—ravenous. Pulling at your flesh, clawing his way along your frame. 

When he reaches your thighs, you whimper. You’ve missed the way he touches you. The way he pries your legs apart and makes a home between.

In a rush, he snaps your panties off into his fist and you toss him a punishing glare.

He smiles.

You rid each other of your remaining clothes in a frantic fashion until they’re nothing more than a dirty pile on the floor. Messy and familiar. Fated.

He drops down onto the bed back first, effortlessly swapping positions as you’re placed in a straddle over his waist.

“Good girl, let me see you,” he murmurs, running his fingers down your cheek before grabbing your jaw. “Go ahead.”

You reach down and take his hardening cock in your hand, running it along your cunt before teasing yourself with the tip. 

“Didn’t stretch you,” he mumbles, leaving a few stray kisses to your collarbone. “S’might hurt, so—”

You push him in, simultaneously sinking down in an effort to feel a more prominent burn., and you both make a rather lewd noise as the grip on your chin tightens.

“Tink,” he hisses with a punishing look of his own. “Careful—”

You drop yourself further, muscles tensing around the thickness until your thighs begin to shake.

“Hey—” He forces your eyes on his. “Enough. Be gentle, m’not gonna hurt you—”

“I want you to,” you pant. “Please. I need it. I…fuck, Har, I need it. Please…please.”

He’s still frowning but his expression softens. “Baby…not like this. Maybe we should wait until you’re feeling better—"

“No,” you whimper. Desperate. Fraught. “Harry, please, don’t stop. Don’t make me stop—”

“Hey, easy, easy.” He pulls your forehead to his. “Breathe. It’s okay.”

You try to obey. Try to suck in a strangled gasp of air but it’s useless. He’s gonna take himself from you. He’s gonna leave, and you’ll be empty, and alone, and maybe he won’t ever touch you again—

He places his palm on your chest, right over your heart. “Breathe,” he says again. Soft. Quiet. “In then out. Good girl, just like that.”

You follow the sound of his voice. Mimic his inhales and exhales until the two of you fall into a synchronized rhythm. 

“Good,” he says again, rubbing his other hand along your back. “There you go. You’re all right, I’ve got you. Yeah?”

Weakly, you nod. “I’m…I’m sorry. I just…I—”

“Shh.” He kisses your nose. “You’re okay, Tink. I know.”

A long moment passes before you finally feel in control of your own heart again and once you blink the fog from your eye, you see him. Delicate and strong at the same time.

He sweeps his thumb along your lip. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you admit. “Really, I just…I needed to feel you. And I wanted to…move on, I guess. Think about something else. Lose myself for a bit.”

He sighs but nods his understanding. “You could have told me that.”

“I know. I guess I’m just not used to sharing things with you.”

“I know,” he echoes with a small grin. “But we’ll learn, yeah?”

Your gaze grows suspicious. “And why would we do that?”

“Because,” he says simply. “If we’re gonna make a bunch of hot, smart babies one day, we’re gonna have to communicate.”

You snort. “Yeah, well, that won’t be for a while.”

“Fine. Just gives us more time to practice.”

Your eyes narrow. “You really have gone soft on me, haven’t you? All because you thought I was pregnant."

He laughs, fingers slipping around the back of your neck to pull you in for a kiss. “I’d argue I’m actually quite hard right now.”

“Ha. Funny.”

“I can hate you and like you at the same time, right?” he teases. “Because I think that’s my sweet spot. Wanting to kill you and fuck you all at once.”

“Agreed. You’re insufferable but you’re also one of my favorite people. Which only makes you more insufferable.”

“Yeah.” He smiles. “I think we earned a little civility, no?”

You nod and take his lip between your teeth. “And I think we should celebrate with an orgasm.”

He laughs again. “I suppose that’s only fair.”

You dance your kisses down his chest, enjoying the way his head drops back while he sighs at the feel of your tongue. He’s so beautiful and so good and if you’re going to lose yourself, you want to lose yourself in him.

Leaning back, brace your hands behind you on his knees, and start to bounce yourself on his cock. Over and over, faster and faster, until he’s grabbing onto your hips and giving them a firm, encouraging squeeze to help you along.

Your tits bounce right in his face, and he takes advantage of his front row seat, allowing his hands to trace and tease your nipples as you whine. He sucks them into his mouth and pulls them with his teeth. It sends chills along your spine and goosebumps along your arms and when he notices, he smirks.

 Not even a minute later, he’s pulling you down so your chest meets his. His hands land on your ass with a firm grip and he drags you along his cock. Slow and sensual until your eyes flutter shut, and you disappear into the building pleasure.

You feel his kisses on your ribcage as he begins to thrust up into you. Returning to the pace you previously set until you’re both chasing that familiar high. 

“There you go,” he praises through gritted teeth. “Fuck yeah, just like that—”

“Harry,” you mewl, fingers tangling in his hair. “Shit, please—”

“I know.” He leaves another kiss to the inside of your arm before he smacks your left ass cheek. “I got you, Princess. S’okay. Keep going.”

You grind yourself over his lap, knees hugging his waist as you bury yourself in the crook of his neck. Needy. Anxious. You match each other’s rhythm and it’s a dance. An effortless fluidity that brings you closer than ever before.

Then, he sucks two fingers into your mouth, and moves them between your cheeks. He grazes them over your tighter hole, gently teasing them over the other entrance before dropping them down to where his cock is fucking into your cunt. He plays with you a bit, pushing you just a bit closer while you wail—depraved—and beg for more.

“My good girl,” he praises. He spanks you again. “Fuck—that’s it, baby.”

Your staccato whimpers are consistent now. One for every thrust and you can almost taste his desperation as he turns his head in order to kiss your cheek. The sound of skin against skin is crude and delicious. The way your body slides against his. Like butter on a hot day, melting together.

He goes faster, pulls you harder. Fingers digging into your skin so hard it almost hurts. But in the best possible way. In turn, you brace yourself with a palm on his throat. Squeezing it tight as you start to get closer. 

“Yeah,” he groans. “Shit…harder—”

You obey, pinching the sides of his neck until his eyes roll back. 

You can feel his heart racing against yours. You’re both warm. Hot. Shaking. A tangled mess of limps and depraved grinding like animals in heat.

“M’almost…m’almost there,” you whisper.

He nods, looking down your body to watch the way your ass bounces in his hands. “Go. S’okay, go. Let me feel you.”

He leaves more kisses to your side and the tender way his lips feel against your skin makes your brain go fuzzy. 

You grip his throat a bit tighter and just like that…it’s over.

The two of you cum together, the room filling with moans and gasps and promises. He settles beneath you while you ride out the rest of your high but he makes sure to keep his arm around you through every second.

Once you finally catch your breath, he hums. “God-fucking-damn.”

You grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He turns to see you. “I think I’m pregnant.”

You roll your eyes with a swat to his chest but you’re laughing. “You’re so annoying.”

“And yet you still like me.”

“I never said that.”

“You said I’m your favorite person.”

“Yeah, well, I lied.”

“Right.” He helps you ease him out before he’s flipping you around and moving himself between your legs.   

You blink. “What the hell are you doing?”

He lifts two fingers and eases them along your swollen pussy. Collecting the white, sticky substance already leaking out before easily pushing it back in.

“Harry,” you scold. “I think we’ve had enough breeding for one day.”

He smirks. “Relax, Tink, m’not breeding you. I just…like to see it drip out.”

Your heart leaps. “…oh.”

“Yeah.” He rests his cheek against the inside of your thigh in order to watch. “S’always so fucking pretty.”

You reach down and card your fingers through his sweaty curls. Happy and content for the first time in days.

He looks up. “One day,” he promises, even though it sounds more like a question.

But somehow, in this moment, it makes everything else worth it.

You grin.

“One day.”

AAA I can’t believe we finally did it!! I’m not gonna lie them being soft with each other is gross 😭 BUT ALSO CUTE!! YAY PROGRESS!!

Thank you so much for reading and for always being so nice!! 🥹💞💞 and of course thank you for the amazing idea hehe

Also, if you see any mistakes……no you don’t 🫶

~  Full 404 Masterlist

Taglist:

@littlenatilda @prettythingsworld @heartateasee @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @monicaalexandraaa

@cinnamonone @triski73 @lemoncrushh @vamprry @lady-lamb21

@lillefroe @kirstiea05 @ribbonknives @lunaharrygurl @harringtonhundreds

@babyyhoneyyy @swiftmendeshoran @sundresstyles @eldahae @becauseheartsgetbroken-hs

@hannahdressedasabanana @sykostyles @lukesaprince @daphnesutton @love-letters-to-uranus

@lovrave @nuggetdean @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @babegoals @lc-fics

[hesbunnies]

✨️ here's a list of my favorite harry styles smut one-shots ✨️

@hsjazebel

• back from tour

• choke

• harry in pleasure

• passion in tokyo

@adorebeaa

• driving

• honey, baby

• please you

• feelings

• pampered

• we’re in time

• undo me

• no loss

• reminder: birthday

• you could stay

• comfortable silence

@goldengalore

• intimacy

• scandal

• slutty little shorts

• rough day

• hardest to love

• a needy boy

• workaholic

@harryistheonlyoneforme

• spreading you open

• adjustment

• quality time

• wake up call

• restless

• focus

• tastes so sweet

• can’t get you off my mind

• i don’t wanna talk to you

• subspace

• harry fingering y/n in the mirror

• thigh riding and finger sucking

@whitemancumslut

• temporary fix

• grounded

• attention span of a goldfish

• harryween

• midnights

• the cute tutor

• princess treatment

@harryslittlefreakk

• little angel

• girl crush

• harry turns 30

• too sweet

@eveningepiphany

• and they were roommates

• hotel room

• learn to knock

• lessons

• innocent

• tease

@harrywritingsbyme

• 10 minuets is all I need

• a mess

• all the way

• be honest

• being of the jealous kind

• branding

check out all my lists here!!

[thecuriousbeauty]

Traitor-The Present (Harry Styles Au)

Mafia!Harry x reader (A little bit of Doctor!Harry)

Series Synopsis:- y/n is a hard working painter who lives with her sick uncle, the only person she has as family. When the desperation for money strikes, she has to make a choice. Walk away after listening to an incredible deal that would fix all her problems, or take up the deal. A top secret, risky deal, which involves meeting Harry Styles. A man once rumored to be the dangerous secret weapon of a leading mafia.

Warnings: 18+. Gang related talks, guns, blood, killings, fights, smoking, alcohol. Smut- Fingering, oral(m and f receiving), penetration, spanking, choking, spitting, degradation, praise, dirty talk. (Warnings concerning each part is mentioned at the top of the post)

Completed Series:-

*-Smut Warning

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three*

Chapter Four*

Chapter Five*

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven*

[1800titz]

WOOO second part to the pornstar!au (Tiger Harry). Find the first part here

If you'd like to read more goodies from me (including a RIDETHET!GER threesome, already up!), my patreon is HERE :)

CONTENT/WARNINGS: p-in-v, anal sex, Sir kink, choking-ish, light dom-sub dynamics

WC: 4K

“They’re both just such pretty holes,” Harry coos, and he thumbs apart her lips before folding over her to reach for his priorly discarded smartphone. His confession is mottled by a sigh, “…I simply cannot decide.” 

Tiger has perfected the art of edging. 

Not even in a literal, tethered-from-the-sweet-peak-of-precipice with an iron hand wrenching backwards sense — though, she’s seen plenty of that through his camera work. It’s a finely formulated craft, making her skin itchy and her cunt weepy before he’s even really touched her. And he hasn’t. She thinks, maybe he’ll nip at her clit with the pads of a forefinger and thumb, but he doesn’t even do that. Instead, he takes a step back. The phone pings. Action. 

“Spread,” Harry tells her. Light. Easy. Pats at one cheek, “Here.” 

Y/N obliges. She rolls onto her shoulders and tucks her arms behind her, splaying her fingers and pulling the flesh apart there. There’s a hiss like a breath coming in through little nooks between his bare teeth. It feels absolutely glorious. 

And lewd. A torrid kind of heat climbs up her neck. Lingers in the apples of her cheeks when Tiger pets at her thigh — probably taping a close-up vista of her oozing pussy — and comments, “Look at that pretty, little cunt.” 

Her digits jolt over her flesh, squeezing it apart almost desperately when he traces the back of a finger beside her clit, and then meanders up to her leaky entrance, prodding with the tips of two fingers. Not quite breaching. Tiger slinks one — a forefinger— up the short trail of her taint and nudges at the hilt of her plug, tracing the petals. Stuffed with silicone flora. Pretty. 

“Fuck. Fucking gorgeous.”

He sighs all soft behind her, and trails lower.

“I think—“

Harry scopes the hood of her clit with a thumb and then pulls it back to scrape with the pad of his middle finger — a motion that makes her jerk and wrests a soft sound from the back of her throat. A deviously mirthy hum comes from behind. 

“I’ll fuck you here—“

The tip of a finger brushes her weepy, pulsing seam.

“—first. Stretch you out a bit before. Sound good?”

She hums against the sheets. Please. Tiger traces the rim and sinks in to the second knuckle with paltry notice. His fingers are long, fill up more space than her own. Lengthier than hers. Girthier. They prod at the nooks and crannies that yearn to be grazed with little effort on his part, and by the time he’s sunk to the base of his chilled ring bands and added a third digit, Y/N is nearly drooling into the sheets. 

“You are such a tight, little thing, sweetheart,” Harry hums. Enunciates his speech with the wet squelch of his fingers plunging, cradled warm and wet by her sloppy pussy.

A mewl gets muffled in linen when he scissors the pair, stretching the seam taut, and rolls his thumb in slippery circles where her slick has trickled. There’s heat swelling in the trench of her tummy; a warm tide pool sloshing in waves that crest. Higher and higher. Building. It overcomes her — this tsunami, blighting her ataraxy until she’s a slobbering mess at the foot of his bed, keeled over. 

“Gonna—“ Y/N warns, brows pleated and mouth pried apart, tongue brushing bunched fabric with little couth. 

Tiger milks her through it, rigid fingers pumping and thumb swirling clusters of spheres into her pulsing flesh, until all that’s left of her are melty shambles with a weakly fluttering cunt. And it does flutter, throbbing emptily as his digits withdraw. Sucks onto them like it doesn’t want to let go, and then spasms around bare atoms like it needs to be corked back up. 

“Good girl,” Tiger praises. He sounds soft and pleased. Concentrated as his cockhead prods at her hole— “Got my fingers all wet, too. That’s two for two.” 

He swipes them at the back of her thigh, so she feels how slick. The pink border of his mouth is probably twitchy. Traces of a smile scratch at his dialogue the way something claws in the pit of her tummy as he nudges with the fat tip. She feels melty. Frozen fudge on a summer day dribbling down the handle. She thinks, for a moment, with her knees and her shoulders seeping into the mattress, that English has slipped her mind. Nothing plucks at her vocal cords, almost as if they’ve been snipped entirely.  A high sound crawls from the back of her mouth, though, when Harry tucks his cock into her. 

He’d been big in her palms — the pads of her digits hadn’t quite kissed around his shaft when she was kneeling, sweeping her tongue at the slit of his ruddy head, and her jaw had strained wide apart to fit him in and swallow him down. Even still, Y/N hadn’t anticipated the stretch. He bullies his cock into her — just about halfway — forcing against her spongy walls in a way that’s nearly too much. Like a paw wriggling into a glove that’s two sizes too small. She feels him in her belly, deep, as he sinks in, inch by inch (hisses escaping the cracks of his bared teeth and scraping at the edges), and bottoms out. She tastes clean cotton on her tongue, mouth wide and muted dumb, eyes screwed. 

A gasp shatters the lull, like one sucked in bobbing to the surface of a sea that’s going to ripple and kick her back under. It thaws in her achy lungs as a soft, dreamy moan when Harry fetters her wrists with one hand at the small of her back, rocks out, and pumps back in. 

“There you go, little bird. Nice and—“

She cries out as his hips snap. 

“Full?”

He rolls out slow, and her fingers twitch when he pummels in to the hilt. Ragged, little noises scarper from her mouth like he’s punched them from her from the inside. The ping of the phone sundering its video doesn’t register, but she realizes he’s tossed the phone again when he pets his free hand over her ass and stamps a sharp, stinging blow to it. Harry sets a brutal pace, then. Soft strokes that strain her rim taut and give her room to adjust simmer off when something scathing boils in the trench of his belly. He grapples her joints in his palm firmly, and the tempo of his hips smacking into her morphs merciless. Used and abused. 

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” Y/N whines when his thumb presses at the hilt of petals stretching her littlest hole. 

“Fuck, yeah,” He mirrors, snarling, and twists at the plug to siphon a whimper. 

Inferno spumes her arteries when he wriggles the plug out, groaning, and replaces it with two wet, blunt fingertips. Three. They stuff her fuller than the plug had and have her wheezing for oxygen to mingle with the scorch that permeates her veins. 

Her knees shuffle over the sheets, she squirms when he drills into her again and again and again, and he grapples at a love handle to keep her tight in place, “You asked for this— and you’re gonna take it, baby.”

Y/N does. There’s not any alternative when he hammers into her and burrows half-moons into her flesh with the ends of his short nails, but she doesn’t want there to be. She scrapes at the side of his palm with crooked fingers — the one that cuffs her wrists together and pants into the sheets. 

She’s seen Tiger fuck. She’s watched the videos — a little redhead clawing at the stair-railing with wet eyes as he coiled her hair tight over his knuckles from behind, or a brunette keening under his frame as he tucked her calves over his shoulders, pounding in from the tip to the hilt and all the way back out. The ones with a curvy blonde clawing at the sheets, whimpering as he pummeled between her thighs, and the one where the woman with the pixie juddered helplessly over his lap, crying out as he stippled a slick trail of open-mouthed kisses up her jugular and manually bounced her over his cock with a firm grip at her hips that dwarfed her size. Y/N has seen so much of the impact in screen captures — slobbered chins, streaming eyes with mucked kohl and smudged liner. Tips of noses hued cerise or pinky and lips swollen and sloppy with spit. Still, she’s somewhat surprised to feel mirrored evidence over her own face as tears drip in rivulets over the apples of her cheeks, as she gnaws at her bottom lip and drools onto his expensive mattress. It’s not the aftermath yet, and Y/N is sure she’s going to be a disheveled mess by the time the camera on the dresser shuts off. 

His cock spits ribbon after ribbon into her with little warning. He pounds into her, something cruel and brutal, husking growls. A groan slides up from the depths of his chest, and he slurs a string of curses, fingers twitching in her other hole when he empties into her pulsing cunt. Y/N absolutely milks him through it. Her slick walls spasm over his cock, and she whines like the same effects curdle her bloodstream and erupt across neurons. 

When Harry pulls out, fisting at the base and gruffing a hum, he thumbs a bead of cum that leaks out to coat her clit. She absolutely sings, at that. 

He lets go of her wrists. Twisting his fingers gently from between her cheeks, Harry blows out a breath and—

Y/N keens like he’s slapped her when Tiger splays his palms over the globes of her ass, spreads, and spits where he’d been fingering her apart. It’s glorious. Harry presses his cockhead to the glob of saliva smearing, still manhandling apart one cheek, and tells her, “Spread,” voice worn and mottled with pants like his heartbeat is thundering ichor in his ears. 

She does. Her own heart hammers behind the caging of her ribs when he makes a lewd sound, breathy and awed as he smacks over her asshole with the head. He slides against her perineum when she jolts, spine zagging, and hums. 

“Is it gonna fit?” Y/N beckons. Her cheek smushes to the wet spot she’s made against the sheets. It’s the most gloriously humiliating revelation.

He winds around the room to the nightstand, where, through tear smeared peripherals (like a bleary windshield coated with condensation), she watches him cull a bottle of lube. The cap clicks. Harry sets a knee up, and the bed creaks, meshing with a sound of amusement and a slick hand working lubricant over his shaft. Her lashes flutter as Tiger works two wet fingers into her, to the hilt, unceremoniously, scissoring. He pulls them out. 

“F’course—“

Y/N gnaws into the smooth, slicky flesh beside her molars. 

Tiger grunts. She’s forced to arch at the palm over the dimples at the base of her spine. As if to test the theory, the slippery head of his cock nudges to the puckering seam. 

“…We’ll make it fit.” 

Taking anal from Tiger, Y/N learns, is a feat. 

A pornographically debauched sort of rite of passage. She’s seen the pictures, too. The teasers he’ll post on X with only the pink tip of his cock in frame, a ringed, vibrantly lacquered hand cradling the back of his partner’s thigh to tuck up and showcase an asshole oozing cum. And the videos; the ones where the girls rake their nails into his tri’s, knuckles bleached, necks strained as garbled moans climb up their throats as he burrows in. They’re always blissed out, after; their visages melty and the lines where their foreheads and hair meet teemed with sweat. She has to wonder, though, as he prods in, how they quite make it fit. 

A high sound and a tight squeeze part-way over the tip has him petting his fingertips over the metacarpals spiking through the skin at the back of her hand. 

“Just breathe for me, baby,” Harry tells her, soft unlike the seat of his jawbone and the grit of his ivory teeth, after, “I’ll go— slow.”

Y/N inhales. It’s stolen from her lungs in the form of a long, low groan when he stuffs the tip past and the rim rides over the ridge. 

“Is that too much, baby? Yeah?” 

She suckles a bit of the sheet between her teeth when he mends the stretch of his sloppy, wet cockhead with a thumb that swipes from her leaky slit and meshes cum against his cock and the taut rim of her other hole.

“…That’s okay, we’ll get you there,” Harry coos, “That’s the hard bit all done, yeah?”

It’s all hard. Hard, vascular flesh like a rock spearing her open, sinking in, sedate and measured. Viciously careful and slick, accompanied by a vicious stretch, despite the lengthy preparation. He’s measured in the way he stuffs in, nearly centimeter by centimeter, pausing along the way down his shaft. Even still, it’s an ache that settles deep the further he sheathes — the kind she feels down to the marrow in the little bones constructing her spine, her pelvis, her ribs when they refuse to expand for her lungs. 

“Relax, sweetheart, relax. Squeezing me so snug.”

It’s just advice, but it’s strained; filthy. It makes her cunt twitch. 

“Push out a little for me. It’ll— yeah, slide in nice an’ easy if you do,” Harry coaxes, pausing the leisure roll forward of his hips. Her hole flutters over him. He makes it another inch.

“Just like that, little bird.”

She’s been holding her breath for twenty-three seconds by the time Harry pats at one of her hands and instructs, “Play with your pretty clit.”

It’s sore, but not in the way that it aches as he presses into her. The pads of her fingers brush milky cum that’s managed to seep out with the flex of her muscles, and they draw a circle over the sensitively overstimulated bud that droplets have leaked over. Her lips pry apart that way her fingertips pry bliss into the outstretched palms of her neurons, grappling for pleasure. 

“Oh.”

“S’it sore?” 

“Mm-Mhm.”

“But it feels good,” Harry states. 

It’s just that — a statement, no inquiry to the borderline prideful cadence of his words when he sinks in three-quarters of the way. It’s enough to have her breathlessly wheezing over her noises, digits stuttering in their shapes as she pinches at the hood. 

“Breathe,” Tiger chastises. 

For the first time, his voice is whetted, like the edge of a cutlass, and she imagines his dark eyebrows creasing. The tattoo of a ruddy handprint — a smack — gleans a loud cry enmeshed from the sheer sting of it and the way Y/N jolts, bouncing forward and back on unanticipated inches. It’s cruel. Mean with his peal of laughter.

He’s soft again. Mirthy. “You did that, not me.” 

“You startled me,” she argues. Her chortles flux into another, blunt, “Oh,” when Harry rocks out a little and back in, cooing in feigned ruth. 

“Oh, did I?” Harry murmurs, trailing a wide palm up the indent of her arched spine with shallow plunges, “Poor baby.”

She squirms when his fingertips wind to the vale of her waist, scrabbling up the ladder of her ribcage lightly. It’s only for a split second, but it draws a squawk and a string of giggles; in turn, a low hiss from him. 

“Fuck,” Harry grapples onto her hips, craning his neck, a grin lining his syllables when he admits, “Every time you laugh, s’like, squeezing me.” 

It’s devious — the way his palm scopes the cinched flesh in the same area it had the first time, reveling in the squeal the wriggling pads pry. Her jaw clinches and she nearly bites through her tongue when her teeth latch together. Despite the stretch, her hips lurch forward on their own volition and her knees shamber towards the headboard, the circles over her clit all but forgotten as her arms outstretch for freedom. It only gives him a wider canvas. 

A soft huff seeps from his nostrils, like the view of her hectically sprawling is entertainment. He pins her bones in place by the hips and lugs her back, sharply enough for her to groan at the pump into her. 

“No,” Harry scolds, tacking an ankle with his hand. He bends one of her knees back and keeps a grip over a love handle on the opposite side. “Where d’you think you’re going? I wasn’t done.” 

He’s polite enough to cease the tickle torture. Considerate, on his part, she supposes, since he’s got the sole of her foot aimed to the Rough sawn oak beamed ceiling. The gunge of kindling lust spumes, and it clogs the sharp anticipation of his thumb pressing to the tender spot between her heel and the ball of her foot, like cruor. Instead, Tiger hones on jabbing into her fluttery asshole, drawing a slew of progressively humiliating sounds. Her top teeth seal over the sheet and she gnaws the fabric in between her incisors like a feral dog. 

She doesn’t really get it until his balls are slapping against her flesh with the fervor of his tempo; what it’s like to be used and abused by Tiger. Mostly, it entails being glazed with cum, inside and out; utilizing the same loads to swipe over her clit that leaks from her sloppy cunt as he pounds into her ass with little mercy. No intent to give. And still, he gives plenty. She feels him deep, spearing somewhere between the knobs of her spine and the soft flesh sheathing her tummy. She can’t recall a time she’s felt so full, vena thrumming something sanguine mottled by him. The ache spurs the bliss building at her pulsing clit, and she retires to chew at the back of her free hand, tucked under her wet face. 

Just up until the point when he yanks at her hair from behind, spiking tingles at the crown of her head, and directs through husky breaths, “Sit up. Up. On your hands.” 

Y/N clambers. An inky forearm hitches over the column of her throat from behind. A sharper arch, a muscular bind over her neck, a palm that dwarfs the knob of her shoulder, and hammering at her backside with no remorse. His nails claw into her love handle, and in turn, Y/N scrapes at the tits of his mermaid, her flowy tendrils, her tail. 

“You really— are a little anal whore, aren’t you, little bird?” 

She slobbers over his forearm, “Yes, Sir— oh— shit, oh, fuck,” so he spiles her mouth with a couple of his fingers. She nips at his knuckles, and he digs green into her deltoid. 

“Fhuh—“ Y/N slurs around the digits. 

He strokes a stuttery whimper from her taste buds. 

She keens, shrill, when Tiger slips his fingers out and smears her own spit over her cheek, “Oh, fuck— you’re so deep—“

Her eyes are screwed, and even still she feels the pant of his grin against the opposite cheek. The way his lips ghost and graze her skin wetly with a low murmur, “Fuck, yeah.” 

He twists his head and siphons the same fingers to his own mouth, gets them wetter, and bats the hand between her legs away to pinch at her clit. To fuse saliva, and cum, and desperation, working ardent over her bud. 

“Such a fucking mess. S’leaking all over my balls, you know that?” Harry purrs, nipping at her earlobe when she whines, trembling, “M’gonna fuck it back into you, after.”

Y/N erupts. It spalls into flinders with sharp borders, somewhere between his cockhead burrowing deep in her tummy, the stretch around him, the pads swiping at her clit, and the filth he muzzles into her hair. She shakes like a waving bract, torn apart in his palms, spewing cries. The tight spasm over his cock has Harry chasing his own release, shuddering behind her and doubling down in a brutal tempo that draws soft whimpers from her mouth. The sharpest one comes when his chest rumbles flush with her back on a long groan, and he twitches in her as he presses deep and empties every bit that he can manage. 

Rough sex, even with a borderline stranger, merits a soft touch to meld the jagged edges of the shards back together. When he seeps out, hissing softly and bobbing, slicked with cum and lubricant, Y/N crumples into the sheets like the junctions of her joints have unfused, slipping from their sockets to melt away into a puddle. It provides an optimal view of her abused holes, one puckering at the air and dripping fresh cum. Just as he’d promised, Harry spoons a rill that trickles out with the pad of his thumb and brushes it back over the slick hole he’d just been tucked into. Feeds it back in to coax a mewl.

“Two for two,” Tiger parrots, dragging the backs of his knuckles up her thigh. It’s an obvious reference to two orgasms each, now, and wears a smile. 

If Y/N wasn’t so melty, she’d probably snort. She manages something like a grunt with her face planted to the mattress. She’s probably losing brain cells. The bed doesn’t feel breathable. 

Harry nudges at her hips until her pelvis sinks flush against the sheets and her feet dangle over the edge of the mattress. Then, he crawls up over her, cock brushing her clean skin soiled along the way. She rolls over against her will. Gets bracketed by his arms as he looms over, mussed, damp coils of his hair pendulous. 

“Hello.” 

She swallows. Her ass is going to absolutely ache tomorrow. Y/N finds she doesn’t mind. 

“…Hello.”   

“You took that well,” Harry tells her, head cocked and talc glinting. 

The boundaries of his ruddy mouth tick upwards into a lax smile, and even still, there’s an eagerly …awake mien to his composition. She wonders how, after that, and how his cock hasn’t gone down, a plurry in shade and sloppily oiled. It prods against the bone at the side of her pelvis. 

“You …gave it well,” she responds, forming the words despite the way they feel garbled in her mouth, between her parted teeth, off her lips like the crevices of her gums have been numbed with lidocaine. 

He ducks his chin and laughs. 

Y/N ends up lodged by his armpit, tangled by the firm muscle of his arms, thighs flush together, with her cheek squished to the plush of his pec; a cushion over where his heartbeat is clattering. 

“I’m all sticky.” 

“You like it,” Tiger sighs, raking a palm back through his tendrils, off his forehead, and musses the tousled curls there further. 

It feels nice when his fingertips graze up her nape, sliding into the forestry of her roots. They tug lightly at the follicles at the back of her skull in a way that makes euphoria seep down her nape. It settles in the first knob of her spine and slink through to the next. She rolls her shoulders. 

“D’you wanna shower? I’ve got one of those rain showerheads on the ceiling.”

If her inner thighs weren’t crusting over, the suggestion would probably feel like a much more intimate dyadic. Especially because she’s well aware he’ll slide in alongside her, slippery. Soapy froth sluicing down his abdomen, sudsy palms cupping at her backside, trailing between her thighs, and rinsing the evidence of their collaboration down the drain. It tastes like another sex tape altogether. 

Harry has grapefruit musk body wash and a citrusy shampoo in his shower. They’re the same ones she’ll lather into her own matted bird’s nest. 

He notes, from the sink, twisting the silvery band and thumbing over the center, where a tetragonal, incarnadine stone is seated, “You got my rings all sticky.” 

Y/N stretches her arms over her head. There’s semen spilling down the insides of her legs. She twists her head and meets him in the mirror just in time to see his eyes crest, his mouth purse and carve into a simper. 

“D’you wanna polish them off with your tongue?” 

[paulyenvol6]

Unsatisfied

Harry Styles one shot that is basically just smut without plot. Enjoy :)

Contains: adult content (only read if you're 18+), smut, fingering, oral (f & m) receiving, p in v, unprotected sex, soft and mean dom Harry, submissive reader, A LOT OF edging, aftercare, fluff

Wordcount: ~2.00k

Masterlist

Harry sat on the edge of the bed, y/n standing in front of him. „Take your shirt and pants off, love, and then come here.“ She pulled her shirt over her head and then placed it on the dresser, knowing that Harry didn’t like it when she just threw the clothes on the floor.

Then she took off her pants. Harry unshamingly regarded her exposed chest and the rest of her body, that was only covered by a thin pair of panties. „Good girl.“, he whispered and y/n felt herself getting wetter every second.

She approached him and Harry tapped on his thigh. „Sit.“, he spoke and y/n sat on his lap, his right thigh between her legs. He petted the hair out of her face and stroke her cheek. „You haven’t been very good lately, have you?“, he whispered. „I haven’t.“ „I haven’t what?“ „I haven’t, sir.“, she quickly corrected and looked at him with her sweetest expression.

Harry lazily ran his finger over her covered cunt and pressed his digit directly against her clit. Y/n shrieked and grabbed his shoulders. He rolled his eyes in response and grabbed her chin. „It almost becomes boring, sweetheart. Do you want me to fucking punish you? You’re always so needy for me and want me to make you feel good but you can’t behave.“

„M’sorry.“, she whispered and looked down. „I know you are. You’re gonna prove it.“ He pushed her down on her knees in front of him and grabbed her chin once again. „You’re gonna be my good girl?“ Y/n quickly nodded. „I will, please let me make you feel good.“ „Hands behind your back. M’gonna fuck your mouth. And I don’t want any complains or tears. Y’know your safe word and gesture?“ „Yes, Harry. Red and tapping your thigh three times.“ „Good. You’re gonna use it if you need, you promise? Don’t wanna hurt you.“, he asked with a serious look on his face. „Yes. I promise.“

Harry nodded and then ran his thumb over her buttom lip. He was so hard and needed a release so badly. He opened the zipper of his pants and got his cock out. Y/n bit her lip but didn’t dare reach out to touch him so she just watched him, shivering from excitement.

Harry ran the tip of his cock over her lips and then pushed inside of her mouth. He sighed at the feeling of her warm mouth around his cock and started to thrust in and out. He hit the back of her throat which made the girl gag and Harry soothingly touched her hair. „Good girl. Doin‘ very well f’me.“ His other hand held her hair and made her keep still so he could fuck her mouth.

It didn’t take him long until he felt the warm feeling building up in his stomach. He pulled y/n off his cock and stroke his cock, keeping him on the edge. „Where am I gonna put my cum, mhm? Think you deserve to swallow it?“ She looked up to him submissively. „It’s up to you, sir.“ He chuckled and made his decision. „Open.“, he growled and kept going up and down his shaft with his hand while his tip was inside her mouth.

He came and y/n felt his cum shooting down her throat. She choked but Harry kept her still with the hand that was inside her hair. „Fuck. Fuck, baby.“, he moaned and closed his eyes in pleasure.

When he had released every drop he felt his breath slowing down again and he pulled y/n, who had been licking him to clean him off his cock. Her lips were covered with cum. Harry ran his thumb over her cheeks and then leaned down to kiss her. „You were very good, love.“ „Thank you, sir.“

He smiled and then sat up again. „On the bed.“ She quickly obeyed and laid down on her back, excitedly waiting for what was going to happen now. She pressed her legs together to get rid of the pulsing heat between her legs that had gotten worse while she had sucked him off. Harry noticed it and chuckled. „So fucking desperate. Open your legs f’me.“

It was uncomfortable but she did as she was told and Harry crawled between her legs and spread her wider with his underarms. He could clearly see the dark patch on her panties and he once again pressed his finger against her clit. Y/n whimpered and tried to close her legs around him, but Harry forced her open again. „Stay open, m’not gonna say it again.“

He played with her clit for some time and then pulled down her panties. As he regarded her bare pussy he licked his lips. „So fucking pretty.“ „Please Harry.“, y/n whined and shifted on the bed. Harry smirked. „God, I love when you beg me.“ „Please, I need you.“, she whimpered.

„What do you need, honey? Use this pretty mouth and tell me.“ „Need t’feel your mouth.“, she whispered and Harry stroke her cheek. „There you go. Not that hard, is it?“

She shook her head and Harry slowly leaned down to kiss her right above her pussy. He kissed his way down until he softly pressed his lips on her clit and then licked from her hole up to her clit. His eyes rolled back at the taste of her and he softly sighed. „Could stay here forever.“, he mumbled and greedily licked into her while his finger played with her clit.

„Harry, fuck. So good.“, she whined. He switched to licking her clit with his tongue in small circles and the girl arched on the bed. „Harry.“, she cried out and dug her nails in the sheets. „I know baby. S’alright I got you.“, he whispered. When he saw that she was about to come, as her walls tightened and her panting got heavier he suddenly stopped his movements and raised his head from her pussy. Y/n immediately looked up with a suprised look on her face. „What are you doing?“, she asked with teary eyes.

„Spread your legs.“, Harry ordered and took a condom from the nightstand. „Why wouldn’t you let me come?“, she asked, her legs pressed together. Harry looked at her and stroke her cheek. „Cause I didn’t feel like letting you come.“ Y/n pouted and her lower lip slightly trembled. „Quit the whining, y/n. Maybe I’m gonna let you come later. Now spread your legs.“

She did as she was told, still pissed but Harry knew it would stop soon. He stroke his cock a few times and then ran the tip through her folds, stopping at her clit. Y/n whimpered and Harry could sense that she was already so messy and her mind was far away from the edging. He aligned his cock with her entrance and slowly slid in. She was so wet that there were no problems but he still gave her some time to adjust.

Then he started thrusting into her. His hand immediately wandered to her clit, as she couldn’t come from vaginal sex alone. He rubbed her in small circles and y/n fell apart under his touch. „Harry.“, she moaned and grabbed his shirt. „Yes Baby, I know.“ „M’gonna cum.“, she whined and Harry’s hand immediately left her clit. Tears welled up in her eyes and she desperately clung to his shirt.

„No, please keep touching me.“, she cried and took his wrist. In response he flipped her over so she was on her stomach and he started fucking her from behind. After a few minutes his hand went between her legs again to rub her clit, a touch that y/n welcomed even though she was scared that he’d stop again before she’d come. And he did, when he could sense that she was close he stopped his movement again and y/n turned around to look at him. „Harry, please let me come, I need it so bad.“ „No, but keep begging, I like that a lot.“, he answered and gave a soft slap to her ass.

„Please. Please, I’ve been good, haven’t I?“ „If you were good you’d shut up now.“ She closed her eyes and looked to the wall again. Harry then stopped his movement inside of her and pulled out. She couldn’t see what he was doing, but suddenly she felt his tongue on her pussy again. He kitten – licked her clit and she felt like she was in heaven on one side but on the other side she found him incredibly mean. He licked her cunt as if it was his last meal but then once again stopped before she could come.

This time he didn’t immediately do anything after he was done so y/n turned around to see what he was doing. He stood next to the bed and opened his shirt. When he saw the tears on her face, he came up to her and cleaned her face with his thumb. „Sweetheart. It’s alright.“, he spoke while soothing her hair. „No, s’not. You came but I didn’t.“, she whispered. „But m’not done with you yet.“ „You’re mean.“, she pouted and Harry grabbed her chin. „Watch your mouth, baby. M’still the one in control here.“ „Yeah you are, that’s why you don’t let me come.“ „If I were you I’d be good now, so the chances that I’m gonna let you come are higher. Understand?“ Y/n nodded and Harry ran his thumb over her lips.

„Turn around.“ She layed on her stomach again and Harry lifted her hips so she was forced to be on her hands and knees. He didn’t waste any time and pushed into her again. He fucked her at a quite fast pace now and his touch on her clit met his thrusts. „M’gonna cum, Harry, please let me.“, she panted after a while and he soothed her ass. „Hold it, darling.“ „I can’t please.“ His hand traveled to her boobs and he played with her nipples. „You’ll have to.“

Her whole body was shaking and she grabbed the bedsheets. „But it’s so hard, please, I – “ Harry quickly pulled out of her and stopped his movement before she could come and she cried out. „Harry, I - “ „Give me your hand.“, he ordered and when she didn’t move he reached out and grabbed her wrist. He pulled her hand to her back and moved it to his cock. He made her form a fist and started fucking her hand and y/n was too fucked out and powerless to complain about the edging.

„Fucking hell.“, Harry growled and released. Most of the cum painted her back and some landed on her hand as well. He threw his head back and felt his quick breathing. „God, baby.“ It took him some time to recover from his orgasm and then he grabbed her hips and carefully laid her on her back.

Now it was time to take care of her, he really had been mean to her. He removed the tears on her cheeks and kissed her gently on her lips. „Such a good girl. M’gonna make you feel good now, I swear. M’gonna make you come, okay?“ She weakly nodded and Harry kissed his way down to between her legs. He didn’t waste any time now, he just wanted to make her come. His lips wrapped around her clit and he softly sucked on it while his tongue flicked it. After a few minutes her legs started to tremble. „M’gonna come.“, she whimpered. „Yes, come f’me, sweetheart. Come in my mouth.“

Her orgasm was overwhelming and she cried out his name. Her hands grabbed his locks and she pressed her legs together around his head. Harry licked her through her orgasm and then when he had gotten every moan and sigh out of her he laid down next to y/n, pulled her to him and caressed her hair. Then he got up to clean her. Y/n was half asleep and looked at him through half closed eyes. "It's alright, love. I'll be done soon and then you can sleep."

After Harry had cleaned her pussy, he brought away the washcloth and laid down next to her. She was asleep already and Harry soothingly ran his hand over her back until he was in the lands of dreams as well.

[shawnxstyles]

personal

DATE: JULY 24, 2023

summary: you and harry are best friends who tell each other everything. or so you thought. when harry finds out you’ve barely done anything sexual, he offers to change that. and then things get a little… personal.

song: Glitch- taylor swift (this song seems fitting)

words: 6.5k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [rubbing, fingering, nipple play, praise kink], mirror sex, cum tasting??, dirty talk), and language.

note: i literally wrote this in a few days i think. this idea is so basic, but who doesn’t love a cliché concept? PART 2

bestfriend!fratrry x inexperienced!reader (because i literally write no one else and fratrry is the love of my life)

—

Harry had a lot of friends. People that he grew up with and some that he met along the way that just stayed. But you were his number one overall, and he told you everything. You told him everything too.

Well, almost everything.

It never really caught his attention that you guys never talked about sex. You guys have been friends for 15 years, since you were five, so you’d think it would have been brought up at least once. But now that Harry thinks about it, he can’t think of one time you’ve talked about the act.

He didn’t think it would be like this. And he didn’t think you’d answer like that.

You and Harry were casually hanging out on a free school day, just like you always do. And then you start talking about this date you went on and how the guy was great. Harry was happy for you, he really was. All he wanted was to see his best friend happier than happy. However, being the best friend he was, he was nagging and joking with you.

“Think he’s the one, eh?” Harry jokes, nudging your shoulder playfully on your couch.

“Oh, stop it. Don’t get ahead of yourself,” You roll your eyes and cross your arms. Yeah, Mike seemed like a decent guy and maybe you could have a relationship for a short time, but he was nowhere near “the one.”

You weren’t too desperate for a relationship, you liked whatever came to you. This cute guy asked you on a date a week ago and you weren’t going to say no. Because what if he was the one? He wasn’t, but what if?

“Imagine it, Doll,” Harry started. He began calling you Doll when you two were just kids. You loved to collect dolls of all sorts, but you never dared to take them out of the box. Harry thought it was silly, but also cool. “picket white fence, beautiful lake house. Kids runnin’ ‘round—”

He saw your face cringe at the word kids. He tilted his head in confusion, arm moving to rest behind you on the couch. He scoots closer to you and waits for you to respond.

“No kids for me,” You awkwardly chuckle. It seemed almost sad the way you sounded.

“What? Thought you wanted to be a mum?”

“Not anymore,” You breathed out with an awkward smile, “need a husband to do that.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout getting a husband. Shouldn’t stop you from wanting ‘em,” Harry smiled sincerely at you and you nodded while looking down.

“Plus, you could always just go out on the street and ask some good-lookin’ lad to be the father of your kids!” You socked Harry hard in the shoulder. He lets out a hearty laugh because he always ruins a sweet moment with a stupid joke. That’s just how you like it though.

“I’m not a prostitute!”

“Never said tha’.”

“Can we just watch some TV? You’re annoying me,” You roll your eyes as you reach for the remote. Harry continues to laugh as you switch the television on.

When you’re indecisive, you toss the remote to Harry and he shuffles through the stations. He lands on a random one, also indecisive. You guys were too similar sometimes.

“Look on your phone for somethin’ and then I’ll find it. I’m done searching.”

“You looked for like two seconds!” You laughed at his laziness. He shrugs with a smile, leaning into the couch. Again, you roll your eyes playfully before doing a bit of research on your phone.

Suddenly, a moan echoes throughout your living room and your whole body stiffens up. Harry notices and tears his eyes away from the screen, which was portraying the sexy noises. You don’t look at him even though you can feel his eyes burning into you.

“Alright?” he asked out of concern, peering at your rigidness. He’s only ever seen you get like that when you were anxious or scared, but nothing happened. Maybe you saw something scary on your phone?

“Uh, yeah,” You squeaked as the TV moaned again. Your face cringes and you force yourself to keep your eyes on your phone.

“Y/N, seriously,” Harry stares between you and the screen when she noisily moans again. The woman was being eaten out by the man and was being overly loud. Her back was arching and her breasts were on display. The movie was inappropriate, 18+ for sure, but it was nothing you hadn’t seen before. Right? You were both 21 years old.

“This… just makes me a tad uncomfortable is all,” You answered honestly, voice quiet as your legs tightened together. Harry’s eyebrows pursed together.

“Uncomfortable? Why?” he couldn’t help the question that slipped out of his mouth. He was too curious to know why a little movie made you stiff yet fidgety.

Unless… you were feeling something different than uncomfortable.

“No,” You shook your head and attempted to push yourself off the couch. Harry didn’t hesitate to grab your wrist and pull you back. He didn’t want you to run away and for you to feel like you couldn’t tell him something.

“Just tell me.”

“No,” You stood your ground, way too embarrassed to say something. Way too embarrassed to admit that you’ve never had sex before. Way too embarrassed to admit you’ve never done anything more than rub your own clit. Once. And it didn’t even feel that good.

Your skin was fiery and… tingly. Harry was much closer to you than he previously was because he pulled you closer to him. Your bare thighs were touching, warm on warm with a sudden spark. You didn’t know you weren’t breathing until you inhaled deeply at Harry’s hooking stare.

“Doll, you tell me everything, but you can’t tell me why a little porn makes you uncomfortable? Because I know it’s tha’.”

“Ugh,” You groaned between clenched teeth. You threw your head back until it hit the top of the couch. Harry’s grip on your wrist never left you. He squeezed it reassuringly, letting you know that he supports you in whatever you’re going to say.

Are you really about to say it?

“Y/N, just—”

“No.”

“I thought we were best friends—”

“Do not pull that card!”

“But—”

“I’ve never had sex before, okay?” You shouted over Harry’s pleading voice and the echoing moans from the television. You’d think by the time you had a whole argument they’d be done having sex, but nope.

Harry was cut off, so his mouth was slacked open. Once he realizes his jaw is on the floor, he blinks a few times to really process what you’ve said. If you had told anyone else, they would have harshly judged you. Harry wasn’t necessarily too different, but he was your best friend, and he was going to try his hardest not too. Harry was just more shocked if anything. He had a handful of different bodies, enough to give him a good amount of experience. So when he finds out you’ve done nothing, he’s beyond surprised to his core.

“But you’ve had so many dates,” Harry looks over at your face, which was looking down at your lap. Your wrist was still trapped in his hand, but you were twiddling your thumbs like you were in trouble. He starts rubbing reassuring circles with his thumb over your knuckle. Your skin was so hot, and Harry’s theory of you being turned on continued in his mind.

Did you even know what that meant? You were naive, right?

“So? That doesn’t mean anything,” Your attitude was shining through. But deep down, you were more embarrassed than anything. This was just your coping mechanism. And of course, Harry knew that.

“Surely you’ve done something else,” Harry suggests. You pin him with a knowing look and a long blink.

“I haven’t,” You answered before even hearing his question. He clearly doesn’t care about your reply because he’s asking you a series of interrogation questions.

“Have you had someone eat you out—” Harry points to the screen, but it was on a commercial break now. You got the point, but Harry clearly didn’t.

“No,” You grumbled.

“What about fingering—”

“No.”

“A toy?”

“Where would I even buy that?”

“Or—”

“No, Harry. Nothing.”

“Not even rubbing?” he asks. You stay quiet, unsure if you want to admit the one-time experiment you did.

Why does it even matter? You tried it and you realized you don’t like it, so you never have to do it again right?

“Not… really,” You hesitated. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion while your skin burned at boiling temperature.

“Humping?”

“No—I tried to…” You couldn’t get the words out. Not ever you’d think. But especially not with Harry so close to you. His body was warm, not as warm as yours, but it was eliciting something inside of you that you couldn’t comprehend. The way he nonchalantly said so many dirty things made you dizzy.

“Tried to what?” Harry was thinking of so many things you could say. He wanted to finish your sentence, just like how he wanted to finish you until you were crying his name and soaking him. But he wanted to hear you say it. He’s never thought of you in such an explicit way, but with the words and tension floating in the air it was hard not to.

“…do it myself.”

“And how did that work out, Doll?”

“Um,” You didn’t expect him to ask. Your neck and cheeks light up in small flames. Where did this come from? “I…”

“What? I thought you could tell me anything?” When your eyes flickered up to his, they were a dark, swirling green you’ve never seen on his face before. Your heart skipped a dangerous beat, frightened with anticipation.

“I know, I can. But this… it’s different.”

“How so?”

“It’s personal—”

“Best friends are personal.”

“But not like this. Best friends don’t do this,” You tried to get up again, nearly ripping yourself away from his grip. But you were in too deep now. Harry wasn’t going to let this one slide. His mind was thinking about one thing and one thing only.

You.

He yanks you back and twirls you around, releasing your wrist in the process. He grabs you by the hips and pulls you down to his lap. You couldn’t contain the slight gasp you let out at the feeling of his strong legs beneath you. Your legs were on either side of him, tempting to squeeze shut. Every movement you made Harry would feel in this position.

“Best friends can say anything. They can do anything too,” Harry’s hands caress your thighs. They’re comforting and inviting, but are also sending a field of goosebumps along your skin warning you to flee. It’s hard to focus on anything but his touch and the vibration of his words through the air. “Now, tell me, did you rub yourself?”

“Yes,” You stutter, trying to stop your hips from squirming on his lap. He notices and grips one side of your body to steady you. It only makes you want to shift more. His touch was almost overwhelming, but you wanted more of it.

Was it wrong to want more of your best friend’s touch?

“Did it feel good?”

“No,” A part inside of you was a bit disappointed that it felt so bland. You thought masturbation was this great thing, and that’s why people did it so frequently. You heard it was also a stress-reliever, but for you, it was just a stress-inducer. Harry could tell by your tone that you weren’t lying.

“Well, you probably weren’t doing it right,” Harry replies and you look up at him with a slightly startled expression and a scoff. You didn’t expect his response to be so straightforward, like he was a doctor diagnosing you with some disease.

“How could I do it wrong? Don’t I just rub…?”

“Baby, it’s much more than that,” Harry said sincerely. He’s never called you baby before, but the nickname had your heart jumping. “Were you even wet?”

“What? I—probably? I don’t remember…”

“You would remember.”

“The experience wasn’t very memorable,” You grumble with an eye roll.

“Do you want me to show you?”

His question had your head spiraling. He wanted to what? There is no way. There is no way those words just left Harry, your best friend’s, mouth.

“W-what? That’s way too personal!” Your eyes were wide and your skin was burning. You were nearly dizzy with this whole conversation and your stomach was tight. You thought you might need to lie down for a while.

Maybe you were sick. Yeah, that’s it.

“Best friends are personal, Doll. Just let me show you, yeah? And then we never have to talk about it again. If y’don’t want. Please,” Harry’s charm was convincing you. Everything about him was luring you in, completely different than ever before. The way his eyes was dark and his touch was warm made you feel wanted and needed, which was contrary to your past dates. They didn’t look at you this way, nearly beg for you this way. They didn’t show you anything. They wanted you because they wanted to get their dick wet, but they hated the idea of a virgin.

And Harry’s familiar. He’s safe. You don’t have to be afraid when you’re with him. But then why are you so nervous?

Harry was willing to teach you how to do the one thing you’ve been curious about your whole life, and you’re going to pass up the opportunity, why? Because he’s your best friend?

Isn’t that supposed to make it better?

“Okay, fine,” You inhaled as your hands gripped onto his T-shirt on his shoulders. You had convinced yourself to let the words slip out. “Show me.”

You were agreeing almost as if this wasn’t a big deal for you. But to Harry, it was. He would take your firsts, and something about that filled him with pride. A smirk slowly rides up on his lips, “Now?”

A blush cascades through your body. Of course he didn’t mean right now!

“I-I thought you meant—”

“Shh, relax, Doll. I was just makin’ sure,” he smirks again, pulling you closer to him. He loved watching you get all squirmy and flustered more than he thought. You could feel his body heat more than ever now, and you’re surprised you lasted this long on his lap without dying. “I’m going to give you a few options, okay?”

With anxiousness, you nodded and swallowed.

“When we do this, you have to talk. So use your words, Y/N,” You knew he was being serious when he said your name, so you replied with yes and then he was giving you your options.

“So, I can lay you down right here on the couch and show you how to rub your little clit,” his explicit words were making your privates ache, but it wasn’t painful. It kind of felt… good? You felt a foreign liquid dampen your underwear, and you can only assume that’s the wetness Harry was talking about. “Or, you can do it yourself on m’thigh with my help. Which one sounds like something y’want to do?”

“The first one,” You answered, painfully desperate to squeeze your legs together to stop this ache. “But how will I see what you’re doing?”

Harry thought for a moment. You made a good point. How were you supposed to learn simply from feeling? Harry knew you were a bit of a visual learner, so he wanted to make sure you saw how to pleasure yourself correctly. And he knew the perfect way to do that.

“I actually have a third option. But s’not really a choice anymore,” Harry doesn’t say anything after, he just lifts himself and you off the couch without warning. You wrap your arms and legs around his body like a koala, making sure you don’t fall. His warmth encompasses you back and you wish you could just stay there forever.

Familiar. Safe.

When your head peers up from his shoulder, you’re in his bathroom. Your eyebrows pinch together, curious as to what his third choice was.

He sets you down on the floor until your feet are planted. You unwrap your arms from him, still confused.

“Do you trust me, Y/N?” Harry’s eyes were still dark, and you wondered if they would ever go back to the strong, emerald green they used to be.

“Yes, of course,” You didn’t hesitate to answer. There was no one that you trusted more than Harry that wasn’t in your bloodline.

“Okay,” Harry breathes, “Strip f’me. Keep your bra and underwear on.”

You nearly questioned him in shock. But then you remembered what the whole goal of this was. He was going to show you how and you were going to listen, right? So you did.

Carefully, you stripped yourself of your clothes. He’s seen you in bathing suits before, and some were revealing, so this can’t be as bad, right? Harry didn’t peel his eyes away although you wanted him to. He hasn’t seen you naked since you two were little kids, and even though you weren’t naked, it felt like you were with his burning gaze. Obviously, there were some changes too. Like height, hair, breasts, ass… the whole thing. Harry doesn’t say anything until you’re in your undergarments.

A swimsuit is definitely different.

“Good. Now, c’mere,” Harry sits down on the floor, a few feet away from his full-body mirror. His body was up against the bathtub wall to keep himself steady. You slowly lowered yourself to the floor, wondering what was going on through his head.

He pulls you between his legs until you’re pressed against his body. His warmth radiated through you far better with less clothes on and your body ached some more. Your legs closed to squeeze it away.

“Nuh uh,” he declines. Harry grips your thighs with his ringed fingers and yanks them apart. You gasp at the extreme vulnerability and the coolness that waves over your privates. He throws your legs over his and bends them slightly, making you unable to move at all. “Keep them open, yeah?”

You nodded, but that’s not what he told you to do.

“Words.”

“Yes. Keep them open.”

“Good girl. You’re learning,” Harry smiled and looked towards the mirror. His eyes instantly zoomed in on the growing wet patch on the front of your cotton panties, and he couldn’t help but smirk. He saw and felt your body squirming similarly like how you were on his lap. He’s had a rock-hard cock since this conversation started, so he’s not surprised if you can feel his hard-on poking your back through his shorts.

His hands rested on your knees as you watched him in the mirror. The entirety of it all was extremely erotic, like something that would be on TV.

“If you like something, tell me. If you hate something, tell me. It’s important that you do so, okay? It helps both of us learn.”

“Okay,” You were nearly shaking with anticipation. You were so nervous, but why? It’s just Harry. It’s just Harry. “I kind of like when you say I’m doing a good job. Makes me feel… nice.”

“Yeah?” Harry tried to conceal the smirk that threatened to rise on his lips. Of course his best friend, who happened to be the most innocent person in the world, had a praise kink. It just made too much sense. “Like when I call you a good girl?”

You sighed and nodded, but Harry didn’t say anything this time. He just kept going.

One of his hands rested on your knee, tracing delicate circles. He stayed in the same spot, for god knows how long, and you wondered when he would do something. He seemed to be in a trance. He was hyper-focusing on every centimeter with those circles, and although you were getting impatient, you felt cared for.

One of his hands snakes to your chest and rubs your nipple through your bra. Just when you were about to protest, his fingers moved a tad lower. The roughness of his pads tickled your skin just right and caused your thighs to squirm. It was entertaining for Harry to watch you get all squirrely from such a simple touch.

He’s going to have fun with you.

“It… tickles,” You observe as your eyes look down at his fingers, very gradually moving closer to that ache in between your legs. You felt like a kid exploring a new world for the first time; naive and curious.

“What does?”

“Your fingers,” You stare at him in the mirror almost as if he’s stupid. What else would tickle?

“Does this tickle?” Harry’s knuckle brushes the inside of your thighs, lower than he’s been. You inhale at the subtle sensitivity.

“Not much,” You answer, and his knuckle continues to sway leisurely. Your breath picks up, rising faster at his hand’s proximity.

“What about this?” His index finger traces the hem of your panties with purpose. You gasp when he gets deep in between your legs, outlining your cunt with ease. Your legs attempt to shut with a shake, shying away from the vulnerability, but it’s impossible with his strong legs prying you open.

“A-a little.”

“And this?”

As if his touch could be anymore teasing, he finally dances along your clothed cunt, tracing your lips with curiosity of how you’d react. A mix of a sigh and a moan wavers out of you unintentionally, hips pushing closer towards his finger. Your mind blanks, light and fuzzy. Your face immediately falls to gaze at his movements, attracted to the air-headed feeling.

“Eyes on the mirror,” Harry demands while delicately caressing you. It was ironic, really. His voice was so rough and stoic while his touch was ever so gentle. With a few blinks, you're focusing in on the mirror, obeying his command. “How does this feel? Does it tickle?”

“Good, and yes,” You swallow your moan as his finger keeps petting you lightly. You were almost getting used to it, but you wanted more. “Is this what I was supposed to do?”

“Sort of. This is called foreplay. Heard of tha’?”

“I think so?” You were breathless.

“S’basically where I get you all wet and ready f’me. You like that?”

“L-love and hate relationship right now,” You pant as his finger rises away from your weeping, covered hole and travels up to your clit. You choke out a gasp as he strokes it nonchalantly.

“Oh,” Your hand drops to his thigh, gripping it strongly as your body begins to tingle. You strain your neck to keep your eyes on the mirror ahead of you, trying to watch how he does it.

His familiar smirk never fades from his face, cheeks a tad rosy from the heat waving between you two. His wrist is probably sore from the tedious, repeated movements he does. His thick fingers delicately circle your covered clit, applying generous pressure until you’re panting.

“More. I think I need more,” You suggest when his pace stays a consistent speed. You needed to feel his fingers on your bare skin. If he was going to touch you, you wanted him to just do it already.

“Y’think?” Harry’s tone was taunting yet serious. He wanted you to be firm with what you wanted. He didn’t want you to second-guess your own pleasure. If you needed more, you needed to tell him that. The best way for that to happen was for him to train you. “Beg for it.”

As your head becomes floaty with the stimulation, you don’t even hesitate to throw out pleads.

“Please, Harry. I-I need it, need more,” Your head slowly falls back onto his shoulder before his touch is gone. “Wha—”

Harry couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to see you. All of you. He needed to see what he did to you, and if you were really as desperate as you seemed. As shocking as this all may be to you, it was just as shocking to Harry. He couldn’t believe he was this turned on from his best friend’s inexperience. He’s always liked when a girl knew what she was doing and knew how to reciprocate. But something about Harry teaching you and showing you the ropes just fills him with a kind of power and pride that he can’t get from anywhere else. And he’s feasting off of it.

“M’gonna take these off, alright?”

“Everything? O-okay,” He unclipped your bra as you slowly slid down your panties. The tile beneath you was colder than before, but Harry’s warm body behind you kept you comforted.

“Have you heard of the traffic light system?” he asks, hands resting gently on your bare shoulders. He gets straight into the safety part first. It also distracts him from ogling your naked figure against him. He could feel his cock twitch in his briefs at your fluttering pussy and peaked nipples.

“I assume you don’t mean the ones used for driving?” You both chuckle and break some of the swollen tension in the room. It was a nice little reminder that it’s just Harry.

“No, Doll. The one for safety and consent,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, no, I’ve never heard of it.”

“If you say red, I’ll stop instantly and ask what made y’red. Communication is key. If y’say yellow, I’ll slow down and ask you again. And then we can either continue or stop, whatever y’want. But if your color is green, I’ll keep going. Understand, love?”

There was a lot of information, but you were able to keep up. It was actually similar to the traffic light system, which makes the name very fitting. You reply with a firm yes to note that you understand.

All while he was talking and explaining everything, you were getting used to looking at yourself in the mirror. You weren’t always confident in your body, but staring at it in between Harry’s made you feel safe and sexy somehow.

Before your mind can wander too far, Harry’s hands are falling down until they’re at your nipples. His rough fingers lightly pinch the already-hard buds until you’re pushing up into his touch. The warmth and the nakedness made you overly flushed all over. He gropes your breasts with care, slyly sliding another hand down lower.

Throughout this entire process, you’ve been soaking; in your underwear, in your shorts, and now on his bathroom tile. Your lower body has been throbbing in desire to be aided, and Harry seems to know just what you need.

His fingers hover right above your mound that’s screaming for him to go lower. Your heart rams against your chest in anticipation of his bare hands on your bare body, on your most sacred and vulnerable parts. No one has ever touched you beside yourself. A small part inside of you was glad that the first person was Harry because you knew you wouldn’t regret it.

Right?

“Stop thinking s’much,” he says, rubbing a warm palm over your belly. His face moves your head, so his lips can kiss your temple reassuringly. You slightly arch your back, so maybe he could see how desperate you are. Your legs were still spread by his, so you know he can see your wetness. If you can see it, so can he. “Just let me show you how it’s done.”

“Okay, Mr. Cocky,” You roll your eyes as he shifts your hair behind your ear, “What if I don’t even like it?”

“The name is very fitting. But that’s for a different day,” he says with a cocky smirk on his face. Now that sounds like something Harry would say. But your entire face gets warm and your head gets a little fuzzy when you actually imagine it. “and you will. Trust me.”

You take a deep breath. You weren’t sure how far you guys were going to go, but you’ve never felt more ready and more safe. With the system Harry told you about and all his reassurance, it was clear that even if he was teaching you, you were the one that had all the control.

“Now watch me.”

With those words his hand turns into just one finger and resumes on your clit. You gasp into the air as your body jolts. The roughness of his thumb paints your arousal over and over on your skin.

“This little thing is important. Don’t neglect it.”

His rhythm is slow and tedious as he circles the nub. You see and feel him dip down to collect some more of your wetness as he continues stroking you.

“How’s this? Color?” he gruffs in your ear while staring at you darkly in the mirror. You could barely understand him because you were panting embarrassingly and trying your hardest to focus on the reflecting glass in front of you.

“Good! Wait—green,” You corrected yourself as a moan elicited from you, his touch feeling even better each second.

“Good girl.”

“Fuck,” You feel yourself clench around nothing but your own wetness at his words. You both watch as the liquid quenches out of your dripping hole, making Harry groan from behind you.

“Do y’think you can handle one finger? Hm?” his voice rolls perfectly into your ear as he twists your peaked nipple. You couldn’t control your moans at the pleasure. His voice sounded just as good as the feeling of his hands.

“Yes, yes. Harry, please,” You nearly cried from how bad you needed it. You didn’t even know you needed it this bad. You thought you were going to hate this feeling, but you’re far from it.

“So submissive, so responsive,” Harry’s middle finger pushes against your hole, teasing the opening. You hold your breath as he makes you wait. “Breathe, Doll. Relax.”

Your eyes close for a moment. You breathe deep and feel your limbs lose their sudden tenseness. Before you can open them again, Harry’s finger is slotting inside of you easily. A gasp falls from your mouth as your hand grips on his meaty thigh for support.

“O-oh.” The feeling was insane. Intense. Nearly overwhelming. You clenched around his digit, consuming and caging it like it would fade away.

You’re so tight around him, he swears his finger might fall off. Harry’s cock is pulsing and pleading behind your back, but you don’t seem to notice. He’s making sure he doesn’t rut into you, but it’s so difficult when you’re all spread out and submissive for him.

He’s never thought of you like this, but fuck, now he can’t think of you any other way.

“Color, Doll?” Harry grumbles in your ear, voice low and breathy as it fans over your skin warmly.

“Green. What’s more than green? B-blue? Just–don’t stop–God,” Your squeaky voice rambled as his finger pumped in and out slowly. You can hear his smile behind your screwed eyes. The pad of his thumb rubbed delicate circles over your throbbing clit to escalate the pleasure.

Your chest was beating fast when your legs started to shake. Your hips bucked closer to his hands, needing more as you chase the glorious feeling.

“Look at you, takin’ me so well,” Harry praises, subtly curling his finger as your back arches. You know that one finger isn’t a lot, barely anything, but you were melting at the praise that Harry gave you. His constant encouragement is what made you putty in his hands. Literally.

“Harry,” You moaned into the heated air, causing Harry to groan desperately behind you. And you’re not too stupid to deflect that Harry might be turned on from the scene unfolding. If you knew more, if you knew better, you would have offered to help him after. But you were inexperienced, and you assumed he wouldn’t want someone to give him head who could possibly bite his dick off.

“Are you close, baby? Hm? Gonna come for the first time on my hand?”

“Y-yes! Please,” You begged as you climbed your high, wondering what the top would feel like if the chase was this blissful.

Your head falls restlessly on his shoulder while his right hand keeps focusing on your cunt. It was covered in your arousal as his pace picked up. The stimulation was almost too much, your body wanted to push away. But your mind was pleading to feel a release you know your body needed.

“Is it gonna h-hurt?” You groaned as your cunt clenched around him again, stomach tensing. A strong rush you assumed could only be an orgasm was approaching you all too fast.

“No, Doll. It’s gonna feel real good,” He twisted your nipple again, pushing you over the edge. You felt his thumb and index pinch your clit, causing you to scream his name against his chest. “Look in the mirror. Watch yourself fall apart f’me. Watch and make sure this time is memorable.”

You always thought Harry had a way with words. You never thought that about dirty talking though. His hands were as skillful as can be, and maybe one day you’ll be able to make yourself feel as good as he made you feel. But his words are something that you’ll never be able to treat yourself with. You don’t think you’ll ever meet another person whose voice is as fitting as Harry’s.

With his demanding tone, you came right over the edge. An overwhelming ripple of pleasure ceased through your body, shaking your legs to the max. Soundless moans and clawing nails were all you were capable of as you came on his large hand. Although you were straining, you never took your eyes off of the mirror. He told you to look at yourself as you came, but you were only staring at the glaring green eyes reflecting back at you. He rubbed all of your orgasm until you were trembling from overstimulation.

Just when you thought he was done, he raised his ringed hand to his mouth and tasted you. You thought that was something that they only did porn or movies. You swallowed intensely as his hum vibrated through you.

“Do you always… taste it?”

“If I think it’ll taste good,” he smirked as you scooted forward to grab your shirt. As you throw it over your head, you just had to ask.

“Did mine taste any good?” You slightly cringed as you asked the question. Does cum usually taste good? What does it even taste like?

His smirk widens, a hint of evilness rising, “do you want to find out?”

Your skin flushes even against the chilling tile. Your heart skips a beat at trying yourself. You hadn’t ever thought of it before. But you’ve come (literally) this far tonight, so why not just take it a little further?

“O-okay,” You slowly lift up your shirt, revealing your fucked-out cunt to him again. “So I just…?”

“May I?” he suggests.

“Yes.”

Two of Harry’s fingers swipe over your cunt, which was still covered in a mix of your arousal and cum. You jolted from the stimulation, tensing quickly before his touch was gone.

“Open,” and without thinking, you do. Your mouth falls open as his fingers lay flat on your tongue. Salty and creamy, it spreads over your tastebuds. You hummed around his fingers just like he did because it tasted good. Yeah, it was a bit odd, but once you got past that, you realized how erotic and sexy it was. “How’s it taste?”

After a bit of suckling on his digits, he puts them out way too soon for your liking. “Good, actually.” You creak from your dry throat.

“I think so too. Let’s clean you up real quick.”

Still sitting on the floor, a warm, wet towel soothes your sensitiveness as he wipes away all of your liquids. A smile broke out on his face when he finished before his hand landed on top of your head. He shook your hair like crazy until it was already wilder than it was. The action was childlike and friendly, almost as if everything between you guys never happened and you were back to square one. It was better that way, though. Right? To just go back to how everything used to be?

Harry grabs the small hand towel and exits his bathroom. You assume he went to discard it and add it to his laundry, but you just sat there in oblivion. You already missed his touch, longing for something you should’ve never even had in the first place. He was the one that offered himself to teach you, but now you’ve been taught, so where do you guys go now? Are you really supposed to just go back to the way it was?

He saw you in ways that no one else has before. You always thought that you would be intimate and have your groups of firsts with someone that you were dating, someone that you loved. Because of this, you realized that Harry was the safe option. Doing this with Harry changed your views on everything, and your body, heart, and mind couldn’t keep up with the rapid reversal.

You knew that Harry had a few notches in his belt. But were they all from relationships or just one-night stands? You didn’t know because you two rarely ever discussed the topic. Was it easy for Harry to go from girl to girl? Or did he get attached like you?

If there was one thing you always feared from sex and sexual doings, it was the intense attachment. You had heard about the infamous addiction intimacy laces within your veins that makes you crave a person. Now that you’ve been with Harry, that won’t happen to you, right?

You’ve known Harry forever, yet you’ve never craved him. He’s your best friend, and you’ve never seen him as more than that. If it was anyone else, you’d probably lose all control because you have no significant relationship with them. It would be easy to latch onto anybody because it would be easy to lose them too. Harry, on the other hand, was not easy to lose.

The last thing you want is to convince yourself of anything. You don’t want to “crave” Harry just because you saw something about an article online about “sexual chemicals fusing.” You couldn’t. No, it was too risky.

You’ve known Harry forever, so you couldn’t lose him forever too.

“I think I found a good movie to watch!” Harry’s voice echoes from his living room and all the way into the bathroom where you haven’t moved a muscle. Your overthinking was louder than it’s ever been. With a shaky breath, you rise from the tiles and stare at your disheveled appearance in the mirror. The same mirror you watched Harry finger fuck you with.

“Be out there in a second!” You shout back as your heart beats rapidly from his heartwarming voice laughing loudly at something. You clutched your chest, wondering why the fuck you were feeling the organ lurch for him in a way that wasn’t meant for him.

You knew that it was way too fucking personal.

—

thanks for reading angels 😙 part 2

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