#Harry has a loose tongue | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

freedomfireflies · 1 year ago

Text

Hers*

Summary: The fifth and final part to Mine*

Your mafia boss boyfriend, Harry, has made you a deal.

Two for the price of one. He'll share you with Asher. For one night. And one night only.

And all you have to do? Be good and take it.

Word Count: 9.6k (...don't ask)

*Contains Mature and Explicit content, so please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞*

“Easy, mama. Breathe. That’s it, that’s my girl. Relax for me, okay? Relax.”

Forcing a shaky breath through quivering lips, you do your best to oblige Harry’s request, allowing your muscles to uncoil as you settle before him.

“Good,” he hums, large palm smoothing across your hip. “Don’t want it to hurt, my love. Need you nice and loose for me.”

“I know,” you say, lashes fluttering shut. “I know, m’sorry.”

“Don’t have to be sorry, honey,” he reminds you, although there’s a hint of reprimand. “Just have to be relaxed.”

You nod again and unclench your fists from around the blanket. He’s doing his best to help you along, making sure to keep his touch light and comforting. And it’s something you thoroughly appreciate as he gingerly circles the tip of the plug around your hole.

“Talk to me,” he suddenly demands as he pulls the item away. “Tell me what you’re looking forward to about this weekend.”

He’s trying to distract you, and you smile as you glance toward the pillows at the head of the bed. “I’m excited to be with you,” you tell him honestly. “Both of you, but…especially you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you share before.”

“And you won’t again,” he snorts under his breath before you feel his puckered lips meet your ass cheek. It’s a quick peck, meant to encourage you, and your grin grows. “Lucky I’m even considering it this time.”

You turn to sneak a glance over your shoulder. “Why are you?”

He doesn’t meet your eye, instead keeping his focus on the task at hand. “Because I can tell it’s something you want. And I want to give you everything you ever want. Everything you deserve.”

Your heart jumps. “You think I deserve Asher?”

You smirk to show you’re teasing, and he chuckles to himself as he gently guides your thighs further apart.

“I think you deserve the best,” Harry replies cooly. “Maybe that’s Asher, maybe it’s not. That’s why I want to be there. To find out.”

You run your tongue over your bottom lip. “Do you trust him?”

He looks up.

“I trust you,” he says softly. “I trust that if this is something you want…then you’ll enjoy it. And I trust that if at any point it’s not…you’ll tell me.”

“I will,” you agree quickly. “You know I will. But I don’t want you to do this just because of me. Not if it’s not something you actually want.”

“I want what you want,” he repeats, a bit firmer. “This time, that’s Asher. I’ve seen the way you are with him. And I’ve seen the way he is with you. The only thing I expect of him is that he takes care of you. Which he does. And as long as he continues to do so…I’ll continue to let him keep his heart inside of his body.”

You snort and glance back down at the mattress, readjusting your position. “I think you just like knowing how scared he is.”

You don’t have to see Harry to know he’s grinning. “It’s fun to watch him sweat.”

“You’re a horrible friend.”

“I’m not his friend. I’m his boss.”

“Well…you’re a horrible boss, then.”

“Considering all I’ve allowed him to see and do, I’d say I’m pretty generous.”

“Maybe he didn’t want to.”

“He did,” Harry says quickly. Confidently. “Believe me, honey. He wanted to. He told me.”

“He told you and you let him live? I’m shocked,” you tease, feigning a surprised gasp.

However, this earns you a gentle but loud smack to the ass as you chuckle.

“Watch it,” he warns. “Yes, I let him live. Because I knew he wasn’t a threat.”

“No?”

“No.” He squeezes your hip, calling your attention back as you look over your shoulder.

Your stomach flips when you see the somber expression on his face.

“You love me,” he says. Not a question. Not a theory. A statement. “He will never change that.”

“No,” you echo, and your answer overwhelms you. “No, never.”

He reaches around to take hold of your chin and give it a squeeze. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs. “I want to do this with you—with him—because it’ll make you happy. Because you deserve to be taken care of. And I know he’ll do it right.”

With that, he drags the tip of the plug down to the arousal already collecting between your thighs, effortlessly lubricating the small object as the question is put to bed.

You reel, gasping through a slack jaw as you steady yourself on your hands and knees.

“Remember what I said,” he reminds you, patting your hip softly. “Gotta relax for me.”

You nod quickly, silently commanding your body to comply, to unwind, to loosen.

And then…he dips down.

Spit dribbles from his lips, landing between your cheeks as you mewl and wiggle closer to the strange sensation.

He makes a noise—either of approval or disappointment, you aren’t sure—before his finger is diving through the pool of saliva and slipping inside.

He’s already been stretching you for the past few minutes, attempting to make this experience a bit more pleasant.

And you’re more than thankful for that now, lost in the feeling of your muscles being coaxed into submission, the feeling of your walls being pushed apart, the feeling of him.

His digit alone is such a fantastically full feeling, you know a cock will send you on a one-way ride to heaven.

“There she is,” he hums, seemingly proud of the way you’ve begun to unwind. “Feels good, hm?”

“Yes,” you breathe, practically pushing back into him. “Fuck—”

“Been a while, I know,” he remarks before he retracts his hand and brings the plug back. “Proud of you, mama.”

Your cheeks warm from the praise before allowing your body to fall quiet. Limbs going utterly still as you await the feeling of the toy, eyes falling down to the dark duvet beneath you.

There’s not much resistance, and you can’t feel too surprised. In fact, it’s quite the subtle but enjoyable feeling. Made even more pleasurable by the way Harry speaks to you.

“That’s my fucking girl,” he whispers, making sure to keep a steady pace. “Oh, honey. Look so pretty right now. Wish you could see how well your sweet little hole stretches for me.”

You bite back a moan. Clenching certainly won’t help, and you almost wonder if he’s trying to be lewd on purpose, just to test you.

Once it’s seated snugly within your ass, Harry hums again and presses his lips to the base of your spine. “There you go. How’s it feel?”

“Good,” you whisper, allowing for a moment to indulge in the sensation. “Full.”

“Yeah? Good,” he repeats, taking a handful of hip in each hand before pulling you back just to watch your cheeks spread. “Fucking hell, mama. Don’t know if I can wait till this evening.”

You smirk as you settle onto your heels, lacing your fingers through his. “Then don’t. Call him over now.”

“Wish I could,” he sighs as he walks around the bed to face you. “But I need to swing by the warehouse, and I need you somewhere safe.”

“And why again am I not safe here?”

“Told you,” he says, caressing your cheek with his palm before running a thumb down your lip. “This location could be compromised if something goes wrong. S’better to have you in a safe house while we have the meeting. And once it’s all over, we can come home.”

Home. A singular word filled with a lifetime of memories. You love the way he says it. Love the tenacious way he speaks about the shared space you both belong in. The place you yearn to come back to.

You press your mouth against his finger, kissing him gently.

He smiles.

“Okay,” you agree. “As long as you’re not gone long.”

“Try not to be.”

“Promise?”

He frowns but there’s a hint of playful amusement within the firm expression. “You know how I feel about promises.”

“I know,” you reply, sneaking your hand around his wrist to keep him close. “But I need you to promise me anyway.”

He sighs. “Honey…”

“I need to hear you say it,” you insist softly. “I need to know you’ll come back to me.”

Now he understands, and his eyes fill with a desperate longing. “Always,” he nearly growls, using both palms to take hold of your face and bring you to him. “Fucking always, mama. Always come back to you.”

You smile as your nose brushes against his. “Promise?”

He exhales a deep breath, as if you’ve stolen the air right out of his lungs. “I promise.”

You kiss him. And you don’t let him go for quite some time, thankful to have him in this moment…and all the rest.

“But you have to promise me something, too,” he whispers, pressing his lips to your cheek.

“Yeah?”

He nods before that devious grin finds its way back. “Promise me…you won’t tell Asher about this little surprise until tonight,” he says, reaching down to smack his hand against your ass. “Think he deserves a little treat.”

And you can’t help but laugh as you agree. “I promise,” you vow before the sound of the door opening echoes throughout the apartment.

Asher announces his arrival as Harry helps you to your feet, making sure to keep you steady as you adjust to the newly acquired object.

“Get dressed,” he instructs softly before releasing you to walk toward the door. “He’s gonna take you to the safe house, and then I’ll see you tonight.”

“Okay,” you reply, equally as quiet. “Har?”

He stops just before he’s completely disappeared into the hallway. “Hm?”

“I love you.”

He smiles, and it makes your heart sing.

“I love you, honey,” he calls back. “Now be good for me.”

You grin. “Yes, daddy.”

And he laughs. In that beautiful, symphonic way. It almost makes your chest ache as you watch him slip into the living room to debrief his right-hand man while you’re left to put your shorts back on.

Once you’re ready, you join the boys by the door, catching the tail end of their hushed conversation.

“—until tomorrow,” Harry is murmuring. “Unless we draw him out.”

“We will,” Asher replies, nodding once. “Matthews is a fucking idiot. He thinks he’s got a shot at infiltrating our system, he’s not gonna pass that up.”

“No,” Harry agrees. “Especially not after Sean—"

The muted discussion comes to an abrupt end when Harry’s eye catches you sneaking through the living room.

“Hi, sugar,” he calls, a bit louder than necessary, almost as if alerting Asher of your presence, too.

Asher turns, and when he sees you…he smiles.

“Hi,” you say back, nodding at the second-in-command.

“You ready?” Harry asks.

“Yeah. I wasn’t sure what to bring, but—”

“Asher’s got it,” Harry answers simply, shooting you a reassuring grin. “Don’t need to bring anything but that cute little ass.”

The teasing remark is a double-edged sword, and you and Harry exchange a smirk as your skin warms and Asher’s brow raises.

However, he doesn’t question it. “In that case…are you ready?”

You nod again. “I think. How far is it?”

“Couple hours,” Harry replies. “Just outside the city.”

“Is Paul coming?”

“No.”

Your brow raises. “Okay…why?”

There’s a beat as Harry reaches into his suit jacket pocket to retrieve a cigarette and a match. “We’re not compromising your location,” he says as he places the filter between his lips and strikes the light. “S’better if fewer people know.”

“So, just you and Asher?”

“Mhm.” He inhales deeply before plucking the object between two fingers and pulling it free. “You’ll be safer that way.”

And despite how methodical he makes the whole affair sound, you know this is something he’s actively fighting himself on.

He prioritizes you above all else, even when that means sending you two hours away so he can conduct a meeting with someone on the black market.

But he hates it. You know he hates it. He absolutely cannot stand being away from you, especially in moments like this.

And he doesn’t want you to know just how weak you make him.

Fighting a gentle smirk, you stride toward him and snatch the cigarette from his grasp.

He huffs as you smash the ashes against the wall, effectively putting out the light before tossing it into the trash can.

“What have I told you about this?” you remind him, tone playful with just a hint of admonishment.

He sighs, glancing down at the lost nicotine with a mournful frown. “Well, what else do you expect me to do?”

“I expect you…to kiss me,” you whisper as he drags his eyes back to you.

It doesn’t take much more for him to slip his fingers around the back of your neck and tug you to him, his mouth instantly colliding with yours.

It doesn’t matter that he’d already kissed you a mere ten minutes ago.

Because this kiss—and all of his kisses—are like snowflakes. Unique, and special, and one of a kind.

It makes your stomach flip, and your head grow fuzzy, and your ears ring.

Because it’s never just a kiss.

It’s an unspoken vow of love and loyalty.

“I love you,” he whispers, soft enough that you imagine only you can hear.

You nod quickly as you press your lips into his bottom one. “I love you,” you repeat. “Don’t be stupid.”

He grins as he releases you. “Never.”

With that, you follow Asher out of the apartment, leaving Harry to finish a few things before heading to the warehouse.

However, instead of Asher’s familiar car, you’re brought to a stop in front of a rather intimidating looking motorcycle.

“And what…is this?” you ask as he grabs a helmet off the handle.

He chuckles while outstretching it toward you. “What’s it look like, sweetheart?”

“You want to take this?” you nearly stammer, eyeing the dark black death machine. “What was wrong with your car?”

He lifts his shoulder in a casual shrug. “Not nearly as fun, now, is it?”

Your response is a flat expression, and he laughs again.

“There’s a higher chance of somebody recognizing my car,” he explains as he moves to swing his leg over the bike. “But they won’t recognize this.”

It’s an adequate justification you suppose. And you aren’t opposed to riding one. You and Harry used to ride together all the time back when you first met.

But never when you had a plug in.

Swallowing your nerves, you slip the helmet over your head as Asher starts the engine, his observant eyes flicking across the dash.

Straddling onto the back of the seat behind him, you watch while he revs the throttle, and props his foot up.

Then, he glances toward his shoulder. “You ready, sweetheart?”

You swallow, arms slipping around his dark black t-shirt. “Where’s your helmet?”

He smirks. “Only have the one. But I don’t need it. I’ll be fine.”

You can’t help the disapproving frown that forms. “Ash—”

“Don’t worry,” he insists, chuckling as he returns his attention forward. “Just hold on, yeah?”

With that, the bike jolts forward, and you cement yourself to his back as he swings a right and leads you both out of the parking lot.

He’s on the highway in twenty seconds flat, swaying from side to side as he slips between the cars. It’s one effortless, fluid motion that makes your heart drop to your stomach, but more than that…it’s exhilarating.

In fact, you don’t even have time to be anxious when each bump you hit and turn you make stimulates the small object beneath you.

And you’re trying not to let it affect you. Trying so hard to keep your focus on the two-hour ride you have ahead of you.

But then the tires will roll over a small rock, and your eyes will roll back in your head.

Your fingers dig into the fabric on Asher’s chest as you squeeze for dear life. And he glances back from time to time, just to make sure you’re all right.

But you’re not all right. And you won’t be until you take this damn thing out.

“You okay?” he yells once you’ve left the city.

You nod. “Yeah,” you call back, although your boa constrictor-like grip suggests otherwise. “Just peachy.”

You catch his smile before he gets off the exit and begins down a seemingly abandoned back road.

There’s still ninety minutes to go, so you will yourself to relax. To focus on anything else besides the throbbing between your legs. Or the position of your clit against the seat. Or the way your chest is pressed to Asher’s back.

But it seems as though the entire universe is working against you in this moment, and despite your best efforts, you find that you’re losing the game.

And when the bike rounds a particularly sharp corner, it all comes to a hilt.

A rather airy moan slips free as you scratch your nails down his chest, and you catch the way he sneaks a look back at you.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asks again, seemingly unaware of the nature behind your noise.

However, speaking will only make things worse, so you nod mutely and pull your lip between your teeth.

This answer satiates him for a while longer before it happens again, and your whimpers become harder to hide.

He doesn’t question you this time around, but a quick glance over his profile proves that he’s beginning to understand why these noises are different.

And so familiar.

You’re thankful he doesn’t ask you to explain. That he doesn’t directly call out your subtle grinding or the desperate whines that dance through the wind and find him.

Instead, he carries on with the ride as though he hasn’t noticed, and this alone gives you the strength to keep your impending orgasm at bay.

After all, Harry would be quite disappointed to find out he’d missed such a sight.

And you don’t imagine starting off the evening with Harry’s disapproval will work in your favor.

The next hour feels like the slow crawl of death. The tortuous journey nearly dragging you to the finish line as Asher finally arrives at the gated building.

You just about moan with relief when he punches in the code, pulls into the parking lot, and brings the motorbike to a stop.

And the moment the engine is killed, you have to bite back a whine, thankful for the reprieve from the vibrations against your cunt.

Asher helps you stand to your feet before slipping the helmet off your head and placing it back on the handle.

You notice he’s smiling in that charming, boyish way. A look that you’re more than familiar with, and it instantly calms your remaining nerves as he leads you inside.

He spends the first few minutes surveying the premises. Checking each closet, door, and hallway for any security risks or planted bugs. He then radios Paul and instructs him to confirm to Harry that the location is secure.

Finally, once Asher is satisfied, he joins you in the living room, and returns his gun to his belt.

“How you feelin’?” he asks, perching on the edge of the seat just beside you.

You swallow thickly and squeeze your thighs a bit tighter together. “Hm? Oh, good. Yeah. Good. Better. Now that we’re…on the ground again.”

He exhales a gentle laugh, and you feel your cheeks fill with heat. “Yeah, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, it’s okay. It was…fun.”

His brow jumps up. “Yeah?”

Shit. You glance back down at your lap and nod once. “Mhm.”

Once again, he finds amusement through your timid behavior and lack of eye contact. But you can’t explain why, and you can’t exactly fight it. So, you surrender to the docile demeanor, keeping your focus on your cuticles as you wait for Harry to join you.

“Hey, Ash?” you venture after a moment, breaking the comfortable quiet.

His head turns to you.

“Are you…nervous? About tonight?” you begin hesitantly, letting yourself steal a glimpse of his quizzical expression. “I mean…is this something you really want to do? Or is Harry manhandling you into it?”

He laughs, and the warm sound echoes around the room. “Believe me, sweetheart. I am more than okay with it.”

You shift in your spot on the sofa, angling your body to fully face him. “Okay, but…are you sure? Just because he’s your boss doesn’t mean you have to do everything he says. He won’t kill you if you say no.”

He grins so big you can see his teeth. “That’s not why I agreed. I agreed because he was right. It’s my job to take care of you.”

You sigh, features playfully unamused. “I think this goes well beyond the specifications of your job description.”

“Maybe. But you’re his girl. And I’d do anything for either of you.”

“Even this?”

“Even this.”

“And it’s not…weird?”

“I don’t think so. Do you?”

You hesitate. “No…I’ve known you forever. I feel safe with you.”

“Good.” He seems genuinely pleased with this. “This isn’t about me, sweetheart. This is about you. About both of you. Harry likes an audience and I’m happy to give him one.”

You suppose this is true. You’ve always known this about your boyfriend and truth be told, you can’t imagine a better audience than Asher.

You spend the next half hour or so exchanging stories about the aforementioned man. The different moods he has, the different coping methods he’s developed, and even a few of his more taboo kinks.

Asher remarks on how different Harry was when he was younger, although he’s not surprised that this is the man he became. And he’s happy that you found each other. That you can be Harry’s light.

And you’re happy that Harry can be your darkness.

Not long after, the security system calls a shrill word of warning from its spot on the wall as Asher leaps to his feet and heads for the door.

He sneaks a hand behind his back, fingers curling on the base of the gun still hidden beneath his belt while cautiously approaching. Then, after a quick look over the monitor, he presses a button and instantly steps back to allow the door to swing open.

And in strides Harry.

He looks about the same as when you left him. He’s still donning his dark, matte suit. His hair is still perfectly displaced, and his skin is still thankfully free of any blood.

A good sign.

But everything else is off. His ordinarily indifferent expression has grown hard. Unforgiving. His jaw seems to be clenched so tight, you’re worried he might chip a tooth. The veins in his neck are corded and pushing against his skin, and even from the sofa, you can see there’s an emptiness in his eye.

Asher begins to frown. “What happened?”

Harry’s head shakes as he looks from his right-hand man to you. “Not now,” he says simply, voice dripping with malicious disdain. “I don’t want to think about it right now.”

Instead, he brushes past Asher and makes a beeline for you. And your heart flutters inside your chest as you look up at the tall man coming to a quick stop before you.

He reaches out and snatches your chin in his palm, gently but firmly tugging you upright until he can connect his lips with yours.

This kiss is angry. Vindictive. Filled with remorse and malevolent indignation. It captures each desperate gasp for air, and he swallows your timid compliance mercilessly.

When he feels generous enough to allow you a breath, you’re tucked beneath his arm while he presses his mouth against your temple.

“How was it?” he whispers, and there’s a certain strain to his inquisition that suggests he’s wrestling a larger demon within himself.

You nod gently and let the smell of his familiar cologne envelope you—calm you. “It was good.”

“Yeah?” He looks to Asher. “No problems?”

“Not…exactly,” Asher replies, and you watch the corner of his mouth dance with the idea of smirking.

Harry’s eyebrow raises. “And what does that mean?”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly a problem,” Asher explains, letting his focus fall to you. “But I think she did have a bit of an interesting ride.”

Harry’s head rolls until he can look down at you. “Oh?”

Your skin warms under the heat of his gaze as you tangle your fingers into his nice shirt. “Couldn’t help it. Felt so good, Har.”

You watch as Harry’s calloused features dissolve into that of smug intrigue. “I bet it did, mama. Does he know why?”

The spotlight swings to Asher, who stands a few feet away, exceedingly curious.

Your lips roll into your mouth as you shake your head.

Harry smiles. “Then why don’t you show him?”

Eager to do just that, you stand back, and lace your fingers around the waistband of your shorts.

Slowly, you turn around, and begin shimmying the denim material down your thighs. Then, you continue to guide the pants down to your ankles, body bending until they reach the floor.

And the moment you’re bent over, you hear Asher curse.

He’s got a direct line of sight to the purple object Harry placed neatly between your ass. And now he understands why the ride on his motorcycle was so…stimulating for you. Why it had you whimpering in his ear as he rocked the bike from side to side while racing through the mountains.

And after you’ve stood back up and turned around, you can see exactly what this revelation does to him.

Harry chuckles underneath his breath as he slips his palm across your bare hip, guiding you back to him. “S’pretty, isn’t it?”

Asher swallows visibly before forcing a curt nod. “Mhm. Very.”

“All nice and stretched for you,” Harry murmurs before grinning down at your hopeful expression. “Aren’t you, honey? You ready to take him?”

You nearly mewl as you nod your enthusiastic agreement, once more grasping onto his shirt as if to plead with him.

“I know,” he coos, cupping your cheek in his palm. “Bet it’s been aching all day, hm? Know you’re so excited.”

And you are. You’ve never felt more infatuated with an idea, and the longer they take to ruin you, the worse the need gets.

“My sweet girl,” he whispers, guiding his thumb toward your lips before slipping it inside your mouth.

You suck, instantly calmed as you sweep your tongue around him, and allow yourself to settle.

“Gotta go over some rules first, yeah?” he says, a bit louder now so you both can hear.

Asher steps closer.

“One…this is about you, mama,” Harry begins, echoing Asher’s earlier sentiments. “We’re not here to hurt you, or punish you, or make you feel unsafe. Is that understood?”

You nod.

He pops his finger free just to take hold of your jaw. “Two…you use your words. Always. You tell us that you’re okay or if you need to stop. If you don’t, I end it.”

You nod again, but he frowns.

“Okay,” you agree verbally, and he hums. “I will.”

Pleased, he carries on. “Three…” He turns to Asher now. “You don’t come inside her. Not her ass. Not her throat. Nothing. You pull out, you get yourself off, and that’s it.”

For some reason, you almost feel embarrassed by the unrelenting and rather strict condition that Harry proposes.

But Asher merely replies, “Understood.”

“And you wear a condom,” Harry adds. “I won’t risk her health because of this. I don’t care if you’re clean, I don’t care if you’re gentle. The only one that gets to feel her is me.”

“Understood.”

Harry’s attention returns to you. “If at any point you want to stop, or you want him gone, or you feel unsure…you fucking tell me. I don’t care if we haven’t come. I don’t care if you think you need to make us happy, make us finish. You tell me. And we’ll talk about it.”

Another resolute rule. “I know, Har. I will. I promise.”

But he’s not finished. “And if you slip into your subspace, then I make the call. If I think you need to be through, then we’re through. And I don’t want any whining or begging. We stop, and that’s that.”

The anticipation just about kills you. Already, your eagerness to be put in these situations lures you into a submissive state of mind. Until everything whittles down to what he’s saying. What he’s offering.

“Okay,” you breathe, bouncing on the tips of your toes. “Okay, I swear.”

He studies you for a moment. Perhaps looking for any deception or perhaps he’s deciding if you’re truly hearing him.

But you know he’s just as keen as you are to begin, so he nods his approval before tapping his finger over your mouth once more.

“Good girl,” he hums. “Now…take my rings off for me.”

Your breath hitches as you step closer, instantly taking hold of his wrist to hold his hand where you need it.

And both men watch as you lick your tongue up his palm and right toward his middle digit.

Once you’ve reached the tip, you wrap your lips around him and move down, teeth gently grazing his skin as you go.

You vaguely catch his mumbled curse as you reach the delicate piece of jewelry. But you pay it no mind, instead keeping your focus on swirling your tongue around the ring before latching onto it and sucking it back up.

Once it’s off, he holds out his other hand, and you let it drop.

He smirks. “Good girl. Now the others.”

You move to the next one, repeating the pattern of pulling and guiding, all while making sure to put on a show.

You never once deviate your eyes from his, allowing him to see just how much you enjoy completing such a menial, borderline degrading task.

And you let him know just how much you love when he’s in charge.

It’s rare he offers to let you take the reins. But when he does, it’s still quite fun. After all, he thinks it’s cute when you’re his dominant and you think it’s cute that he pretends you actually are.

Once his fingers are ring free, he slips his palm around the back of your neck and gives it a squeeze. “Bedroom. Now.”

Slightly disappointed to steal yourself from him, you nod and begin for the room just off the hallway.

The boys follow a few feet behind, and you can hear their soft murmurings, but you don’t inquire to know the details. You imagine you’ll find out soon enough.

Once you’ve all gathered around the mattress, Harry takes your hand, brings your knuckles to his lips, and winks.

Your skin warms from the rather innocent display of affection before he’s leading you to the bed. You’re placed between his legs while he settles back against the headboard, and the moment you’re comfortable, his large hands curl around your thighs and drag them apart.

Then, Asher makes himself known, crawling into the newly made space until he can nestle down onto his stomach.

He takes hold of your hips, and with a little help from Harry, manages to lift you up so he can slip a pillow beneath your ass.

You swallow.

“It’s Asher’s turn to taste you,” Harry tells you simply, dipping down until his mouth can dance across your ear. “And I’m gonna be nice…and let him.”

You push yourself into Harry’s chest, head dropping onto his shoulder as you scratch your nails down his arms. You can’t find a response. Don’t really need one. You just need them.

Asher seems encouraged by your willing silence, smiling to himself as he scoots closer and smooths his touch up your legs.

“You ready, sweetheart?” His voice is calm. Reassuring. Familiar and all around safe.

You nod before Harry pinches your thigh and reminds you of his rule. “Yes,” you say aloud. “Yes, I’m ready.”

You feel Harry smirk against your cheek.

With that, Asher dives forward. You weren’t sure how he would feel. You know how his fingers feel. Know his touch, and his voice, and the way he looks at you.

But this…this is new. Wonderful, and soft, and just a bit dangerous.

It’s even a bit messy. How could it not be with the way you’ve been drenched since the moment Harry put the plug in. Truth be told, you’re not sure the difference between your arousal and Asher’s contribution.

Either way, his large tongue licks up your cunt like this is the first drink of water he’s had in years. Like you’re the only remedy to his deprivation. As if he knows this is the first and only time Harry will ever allow him to taste you.

He indulges in you. Nips at you with the fervent desire to feast. To lick through you, to devour you, to savor everything you have to offer.

He’s relentless and yet patient. He takes his time because he knows you have more to give. Knows that you’re enjoying this as much as he is.

“Look at you, mama,” Harry whispers, his strong fingers pressing marks into your tender skin as he keeps you spread. “Fucking love this, don’t you?”

And you do, so you nod zealously, whimpering beneath a pained breath as you squirm between Harry’s legs.

“How does he feel, hm?” he asks next, running his nose along your temple. “S’he making you feel good, honey?”

Your answer comes in the form of a salacious moan, your jaw going slack as you suck in a sharp breath.

“Is that a yes?” Harry pushes. “’Cause if he’s not…I’ll put a fucking bullet through his head.”

And you can feel Asher curse against your pussy before he’s sucking your clit into his mouth, cheeks hollowing as you whine.

The threat lingers for just a moment, met only with more needy whimpers, and lewd licks to your cunt.

You don’t imagine Harry would ever follow through on such an ultimatum, but the look in Asher’s eye almost convinces you otherwise.

Harry’s decisions are rarely ever made through calm, sound logic. More often than not, his choices are the result of a short temper and lack of patience.

And you. Despite what he might tell you, you are the sole reason for his insanity. He will stop at nothing to keep you with him. Keep this little life you two have built.

And if Asher happened to compromise that…

You shiver from the very thought, and from the way your orgasm is beginning to unravel.

“Are you close, sweet girl?” Harry murmurs, pulling you a bit wider. “Hm? Does it ache, baby? Need to let go? Need to come?”

You’re trying to nod, trying to breathe, trying to do anything but cry desperately as you writhe between his arms.

He only hums. “No.”

With that, Asher pops his mouth from your clit and straightens up, leaving your swollen, sensitive, and quite red cunt where he found it.

You wilt. Become absolutely unhinged as the loss of pleasure leaves you desolate and depraved.

“Harry,” you nearly gasp, whining as you tug on his wrists.

“No,” he repeats calmly. “No, not gonna waste your first on him. Want your first around us, mama. Gonna be around our cocks, yeah?”

Truthfully, you want nothing else, and you just about purr as you murmur your agreement, and scoot back into his body.

He chuckles when he feels the way you’re trying to pull your legs from beneath his hands, clearly desperate for some sort of friction. And you hope he’ll have pity on you. At least let you find a bit of relief before you begin.

However, he only smacks his large hand down your naked thigh in warning before you feel his mouth press to your cheek.

“No,” he repeats for a third time. “Enough. Told you to behave, didn’t I?”

You fight to catch your breath. “…yes.”

“So behave.”

God, you could just about come from his tone of voice alone. The angry and virile hiss that he only uses when he’s truly lost on you. In the need to own you, claim you, ruin you completely.

He smacks your leg again, albeit gentler this time around. “Up.”

A bit confused, you wearily push yourself onto your knees until you can straighten up and steal a glimpse of the man behind you.

He smirks when sees the confused expression on your face before jutting his chin toward his pants. “Take ‘em off.”

And you’re more than happy to oblige. So, while Asher stands from the bed and begins to strip himself of his own clothing, you get to work on Harry.

Shaky, excitable fingers move for the dark waistband around his hips. They pinch the zipper and drag it down before tugging on the material until it can slip down his legs.

You wiggle backward as you guide the pants off before tossing them aside to focus on his briefs.

And you just about drool when you get to see him. His strong, tan thighs. The muscles that quiver and dip as he scoots up. The way you can see the bulge straining against the fabric of his underwear as you greedily move closer.

The moment you make contact with the band, however, Harry snatches hold of your wrists to slow you down.

“Easy, mama,” he instructs softly, thumbs stroking across the joints of your hand. “You’re okay. Not nervous, are you?”

Having mistaken your trembling touch for unease, he attempts to pull you to him.

But you merely smile and shake your head. “No, I promise. I’m excited.”

“Are you sure?” His expression is quizzical. Scrutinizing. Looking to see if he needs to make a call you can’t make for yourself.

But you grin and surge forward, pressing your lips to his as he sighs. “Promise,” you repeat, using this distraction as an opportunity to rip his briefs down.

He hisses when his cocks comes free, forehead finding yours before he looks down to see it.

In fact, you both look, and you feel utterly mesmerized by the way it calls to you. The way it’s hard and ready to be touched.

All for you.

You’d take him into your mouth right now if that’s what he wanted but you know he wants to save each ounce of his pleasure for you.

So, you simply toss the underwear aside, and anxiously stare at his shirt.

This is what you’d like to rid him of next, but without his explicit instruction, you’re forced to wait. To stare at the black fabric until he realizes what it is you want.

And when he does, he smiles.

“All right,” he concedes, sitting up so you can peel it off. “Go ahead.”

You waste no more time, slipping your hands around the hem before pulling it up and over his head.

Now…you see him. All of him. Naked, and sculpted, and so goddamn beautiful. Your own work of art, right here in front of you, ready for the taking.

And you can’t wait to take him.

Now, the attention returns to you. You’re still in the oversized t-shirt you’d slipped on earlier, and while it’s quite comfortable, you know for Harry, this just won’t do.

So, he smooths his palms along your thighs, over your hips, and across your stomach before guiding the shirt up.

You shiver with every brush of his skin against yours, and nearly whine when you feel his thumbs sweep just below the swell of your breasts.

But he doesn’t linger. Because of course he doesn’t. Instead, he plucks the material from your body, and tosses it onto the pile of clothes already gathering on the floor.

The bed dips, reminding you of your guest, and just before you can turn to see him, Harry grasps onto your jaw.

He keeps your focus on him, an emphatic frown sitting comfortably on his mouth. “Promise me.”

You hesitate, momentarily unsure what he means.

Then…you do.

You squeeze his arm between both hands and smile gently. “I promise.”

And you’ve never seen him so happy.

A second body appears behind your own, a subtle warmth radiating from the soft skin as it ghosts across your back.

You quickly relax, already feeling safer from the way you’re sandwiched between the two men.

And Harry is pleased with this, letting his eyes flick to the second-in-command just over your shoulder.

“Take it out,” he instructs before his hands move to your hips. “Gonna need to breathe, mama.”

You nod as Harry pulls you over his lap, settling one knee on either side of his hips until you’re in the position to straddle him.

And Asher shuffles forward as well, kneeling between Harry’s bent legs while Harry scoots a bit further down until more of his back is on the mattress.

Then, you feel a set of fingers dance across your ass and toward the toy so snugly placed within.

Your lashes flutter as Asher uses his other hand to sweep some of your hair over your right shoulder, allowing him a better view of your back.

“There you go,” he whispers encouragingly as he gets a grip on the plug. “Ready, sweetheart?”

You pull in a quick breath. “Yes.”

Harry smiles.

Without another thought, Asher begins to slide the object out of your tighter hole, agonizingly slow as Harry brings you toward his cock and pushes the head against you.

The dual sensation makes you stumble over a frantic gasp as you place your hands on Harry’s chest to brace yourself.

But this is only the beginning as Harry nudges himself through your soaked folds and toward where you drip for him.

Then…he thrusts up.

The moment his cock slips in, Asher completely removes the plug, leaving you empty and yet somehow full.

It’s confusing, and wonderful, and overwhelming. And you can’t seem to focus on any one thing as you hear the toy being tossed onto the mattress before Asher is bringing himself closer.

“Okay, honey, you all right?” Harry grits between clenched teeth, clearly fighting the urge to ram himself into you.

Or perhaps he’s merely fighting the sight of Asher pressing his chest to your shoulder blades.

Either way, you nod. “Yes, m’okay. Ready.”

“That’s our girl,” Harry breathes, and you hear Asher hum behind you. “Gonna have to relax for me, mama. If you keep squeezing me like that, I’m not gonna make it.”

You do your best to unclench. To mellow out, slacken the strain on your muscles. And it works, allowing Harry to push in a bit further as your chest just about caves in.

It’s enthralling, but it always is with him. And despite how well your body knows his cock, it continues to stretch for him, beckoning him in as he groans and digs his fingers into your thighs.

“There you go,” he murmurs, the muscles near the edge of his jaw twitching as he surges forward. “S’a good fucking girl. Taking me so well, sugar.”

You mewl as you wiggle over him, needing him to fill you all the way before you’ll feel fully satisfied.

And Asher attempts to help ease your neediness, familiar hands smoothing up your arms and toward your shoulders.

Then, he presses his lips to the side of your throat, and you just about collapse.

However, the moment your eyes roll back, Harry makes one final thrust, completely disappearing inside of you.

He curses as you whimper, a rather pathetic noise scraping from your throat as your head drops forward until your chin meets your chest.

“Fucking hell, mama,” he grunts, nails scratching patterns into your feverish skin. “Feel so good for me, sweet girl. You like sittin’ on my cock? Hm? Like getting to feel me in your tummy?”

But you can’t speak. Can’t. Your entire mouth has gone numb as Harry slowly begins to lift you back up just so he can thrust into you again.

“What a tight little pussy,” he seethes, the sound of him slipping through your arousal echoing throughout the air. “He’s gonna fucking love it, isn’t he? Gonna fucking love to feel you the way I do. Gonna make his fucking day.”

And almost as if to prove Harry’s point, you feel the head of Asher’s cock brush against your lower back until a sharp chill runs down your spine.

A thin layer of sweat has begun to coat your entire body as you impatiently wait for the second-in-command to join in. You know he won’t until Harry deems you ready, but you wish he’d just do it anyway.

It might be fun to see Harry mad.

Already, you feel that familiar tinge of pleasure making a home between your legs. It’s far too easy with the way you were edged earlier but now it just about ruins you.

“Okay,” Harry murmurs, his own chest rising and falling with quick breaths as he sheaths himself inside your cunt. “Okay, Ash, go. Go.”

And before you can even thirstily dwell on the implication of this permission, you feel another hand on your hip as the tip of Asher’s cock sweeps down your ass.

“Easy,” comes the sultry command of the man behind you. “I’ve got you, sweetheart, yeah? Just need you to breathe for me.”

“Okay,” you pant, head rolling back until it can settle into his shoulder.

He smiles against your cheek. “Doing so good. M’gonna go slow, okay?”

“Okay,” you repeat, eyes screwing shut from the lack of stimulation.

You hear him pump himself a time or two, the sound of the lube he must have applied when you were focused on Harry making you whine.

Then, you feel him pull your cheeks apart, and gingerly trail the tip of his cock between.

“Breathe,” Harry reminds you, straining to speak through his clenched jaw. “Make daddy happy, honey. Come on.”

So, you do. You suck in a greedy gasp for air, hold it in your lungs, and then release it back into the room.

Pleased, Harry brings one hand to your chest, tweaking your nipple between his fingers, and right as he does, you feel Asher slip in.

Your mouth drops open, a frantic moan catching in your throat as you roll forward, nearly collapsing onto Harry’s chest.

But he catches you. They both do, quick to encourage you back upright so Asher can continue, and you feel your mind grow hazy.

“There she is,” Harry whispers, kneading your tit in his palm. “Shit, mama. M’so fucking proud of you. Look so pretty right now, taking him. Does it feel good? You feel okay?”

And you appreciate his concern more than anything in the world, your heart fluttering in your chest as you nod.

“Yes,” you whisper, an airy reply that’s almost lost beneath the sound of Asher’s forced exhale. “I’m okay. Promise.”

Harry releases your chest to press his hand to your cheek, thumb stroking just below your eye. “My precious girl. Knew you’d behave for us. Love getting to see you like this. All fucked out and happy. Are you happy, sugar?”

You are. So utterly and unconditionally happy right now that you feel tears spring to your lash line as you turn to press your mouth into Harry’s palm.

He sighs at the feel of your kiss against his skin, but the tender moment between you is cut short when Asher finally pushes in to the hilt, forcing a surprised whimper.

The overwhelming feel of both men—both cocks—stretching you from the inside out is almost more than you can handle. Because it’s everything. Everywhere. All at once. You know them both in the most intimate of ways, and a mangled cry rips from your tongue as they offer you a moment to adjust.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Asher asks, nudging his nose beneath your jaw. You can hear how hard he’s trying not to groan—can feel the restraint he’s using to keep himself still.

It takes you a minute to find a response, nearly winded from the all-consuming rush of pleasure.

Then, Harry taps your cheek firmly, and moves his hand to your throat. “Speak, mama. You know the rule.”

“I’m…yes,” you huff, attempting to roll your hips. “Yes, please…please, Har. Need…need—”

You watch his eyes flick to Asher before he swallows thickly and nods once. “Okay. All right, we’ve got you.”

And so begins the soft but purposeful thrusts.

They work in tandem, easing out of you slowly just to push back in, basking in the sound of your wetness dripping down their cocks, and the way your body tenses.

They speak in hushed but lustful tones. Their hands never leave you, their focus never leaves you.

Asher commits to kissing along the slope of your shoulder while Harry obligates his attention to running his fingers down your skin.

He scratches, and pulls, and squeezes every inch of your body. And he watches you. Watches you with the kind of adoration that makes the coil nearly snap into a million irremediable pieces.

Suddenly, Harry reaches around your hip to grasp onto Asher’s wrist, and you watch with wide eyes as he brings the right-hand man’s palm to your stomach.

Then…he thrusts up.

“Feel that?” he just about growls, looking between you. “That’s how fucking deep I am. That’s how well she fucking takes me.”

The pressure of their touch against the bulge in your belly has the whines falling miserably from your mouth. A sound that mixes almost wickedly with Asher’s own animalistic grunts as Harry hisses between clenched teeth.

This is what seems to set them off. Their rhythm switches from slow and soft to hard and fast. Needing to feel the way your warmth completely and wholly clenches down.

“So fucking tight, sweetheart,” Asher grumbles, his chest knocking into your back with each snap of his hips. “You feel full? Feel good?”

“Yes,” you cry, nails scratching down Harry’s chest as you move in time with their pattern. “Please…don’t…don’t stop—”

“Never, baby,” Harry bites, driving in so deep, it almost hurts. “Fucking never stop. Give you everything—”

“Shit—”

“Can feel you, baby. Feel your little pussy squeezin’ me. You gonna come? Gonna come for us?”

“Yes…yes, yes—”

“Yeah? Go ahead, mama. Fucking come. Let him feel how fucking good you are to me. Let him know what it’s like to have you coming around his cock—”

You scream something akin to his name when it hits you, eyes rolling so far back, you see stars.

You lose time. Lose everything, nearly lose consciousness. And they don’t stop. They fuck you through every second, and the sounds they make almost send you into a second.

You can’t differentiate between the two, but your ears fill with the melodic sound of whimpers and grunts of appreciation as they fuck themselves deeper. As they hit each spot so perfectly that it almost kills you.

But Harry’s not through. He presses his fingers into your clit and chases after another orgasm. Pinching and pressing and rubbing until you’re attempting to squirm away from him, begging him to stop, to let you breathe.

Your cheeks are stained with ecstatic tears as you come undone for a second time, quicker but still blissfully euphoric.

“Please, please, please,” you hear yourself whine, slumping forward as Asher wraps an arm around your middle to keep you upright. “Please…Har…please. Can’t…can’t…”

“Shh, you’re all right,” comes the distant but gentle sound of Harry’s voice, vaguely keeping you present as your mind attempts to float away. “So fucking proud of you, mama. M’not through with you yet.”

“Please…”

“Easy, honey. It’s okay. Just gonna play with you a little longer. You’ll let Daddy play you with your little clit, yeah?”

You nod mutely, humming to yourself as he pinches the sensitive nerves between the pads of his fingers. “Har…”

“I know,” he coos as Asher releases a deep breath in your ear. “Hurts, doesn’t it? All swollen, aren’t you?”

Again, you can do nothing but move your head up and down lazily as you lean back into Asher’s chest.

“Gonna give me one more, baby,” Harry instructs, thrusts faltering the closer he nears his own release. “Just one fucking more, and Daddy will be so proud. Both be so proud of you.”

And that alone is enough to encourage your compliance, forcing the third to hit you fast like a runaway train before you can even see it coming.

You make it about halfway through the glaringly wonderful rush of endorphins when Harry is suddenly straightening up, placing a hand on Asher’s shoulder, and shoving him back.

Asher’s cock slips from your hole as he’s pushed away from you, leaving you to gasp.

“No,” Harry seethes, shooting a malevolent and unyielding look toward his second-in-command. “You’re done. You fucking finish over there.”

You aren’t afforded the chance to understand just what’s occurred before Harry is settling back onto the bed and thrusting his hips upward.

His cock completely disappears inside your pussy, forcing a debauched sound to bleed from your mouth as he twitches and finally releases himself into you.

And it’s exactly like you remember. Warm, and good, and exciting. The look on his face as he fills you. The way his tan skin glistens with a sheen of sweat and the beautiful sounds that slip between his lips.

You’d stay here a lifetime if you could.

Which seems to be his intention because even after he’s finished, he refuses to let you move. Instead wrapping his arms around you and tugging you into his chest, his chin meeting the top of your head.

He keeps his cock warm inside you for quite some time. All throughout the sound of Asher pumping himself off until he comes over his hand and stomach.

Minutes pass until the room falls silent. Until you’ve all caught your breath and found your way back to the present.

Eventually, Harry shifts, and you can hear him murmur something to the man behind you.

You don’t catch it through your hazy state of mind, but you feel comforted in hearing the familiar cadence of their voices.

You’re scooped up into a pair of arms and walked into another room. You blink the fog from your eyes as Asher flips on the shower and Harry places you back onto your feet.

You’re kept steady as you’re guided beneath the warm, gentle stream of water and you instantly nuzzle your face in Harry’s chest as he chuckles.

The two men dedicate their time to running some soap down your body, between your legs, along your back, and across your chest.

Harry is gentle when he massages the shampoo into your hair, despite the way you pout as you’re pulled from his body.

But the moment he’s finished, you bury yourself back into his arms, smiling to yourself when you feel his chest vibrate from laughter.

Asher and Harry continue their quiet conversation as they clean themselves. Still, you can’t quite decipher the distinct words or topic of conversation, but do manage to make out one exchange in particular:

“Are you sure?” Asher asks.

“Always,” Harry whispers. “We will always be hers.”

Once thoroughly bathed, they help you step out, and lead you back to the bedroom. Harry is there to put you in clean underwear and one of his shirts while Asher gathers his things and heads back to the living room to keep watch for the night.

“Sleepy girl,” Harry hums as he lays you onto the mattress before slipping in behind you. “M’so fucking proud of you, honey. Thank you for letting us make you feel good.”

And you giggle to yourself, confused as to why Harry would need to thank you for something like that. “Always.”

He chuckles as well.

Sometime in the night, long after you’ve fallen asleep, you feel a particular and familiar chill travel up your cunt and settle in your stomach.

After shaking the sleep from your mind, you push up onto your elbows and glance down.

You see Harry’s tattooed arm peeking out from between the blankets, rolling and flexing in time with the blissfully sweet ministrations between your thighs.

Then, you see Harry.

“Shh,” he whispers, leaning closer to press his lips to your jaw. “M’sorry, mama. But I need one more. Need your last one to belong to me.”

You smile as you nuzzle into him, nodding quickly in support. “Please, Har…”

“I know,” he replies, trailing his tongue down your neck. “Gonna make it better.”

With that, he takes his hand from your cunt only to wrap his fingers around the fabric of your underwear…and rip.

It snaps from your body as you gasp and instantly wiggly against the mattress, still sensitive from everything else before.

Then…he tosses it toward the shadows in the corner of the room.

Your eyes follow the lace as it’s flung through the air, choking on a whimper when you see a hand quickly outstretch to capture it.

Asher.

He’s sitting comfortably in a lounge chair, smirking at you both as you attempt to work out what you’re seeing. The soft light from the moon outside the window cascades across the side of his face. Just enough for you to make out his intrigued expression.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he calls, and the teasing but always caring sound of his voice makes you sigh contently.

“Hold these for me, yeah?” Harry instructs his partner, who nods and tucks the underwear into his fist.

Then, Harry’s attention returns to you.

“Think you can give me another?” he murmurs, grinning down at you with so much love, it makes your chest ache.

You shiver as the tips of his fingers return to your clit.

“Always.”

God, why do I love them??? Technically this is the end but I will be doing blurbs because I am needy and cannot let them go!!!

Thank you to everyone that's read and been so kind!!! I appreciate you so much!! As does Asher, who would not have had such an important role if it weren't for all of his fans!! 💞💞

Next Part:

~ Remedy* (A Mine Extra)

Previous Parts:

~ Mine* (Pt. 1)

~ Ours* (Pt. 2)

~ Yours* (Pt. 3)

~ Theirs* (Pt. 4)

~ Full Mine Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Tag List:

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veritas-scribblings · 5 months ago

Text

heal - @jegulus-microfic - words: 1,191

Come October, Regulus is quiet. Closed in on himself. Almost non-existent. He won’t come out of the bedroom, James says. He’s been shut in there all day and he won’t look at James.

Sometimes James thinks that Regulus is punishing him for everything that had happened between them. For all the time that was lost. For all the fights that were had. For all the betrayals that occurred on both sides.

James has no regrets. And James has all the regrets.

James has no guilt. And James has all the guilt.

In October, Lily brings the baby around to visit. He’s not really a baby anymore, honestly. He’s walking (running, really) and speaking in two-to-three word sentences, and he has the funniest little shoes that Sirius bought him and drags a stuffed dragon wherever he goes.

James had been devastated to have missed when little Harry started to really run (or at least as well as a two-year-old can run); he often is when he misses the milestones. So, when Harry begins chasing Regulus’s cat, James doesn’t intervene. If anything, he encourages the behaviour. The cat is a nasty, spiteful little demon anyway.

‘It’s hard for him,’ Lily says gently. ‘He went through a lot.’

‘We all went through a lot,’ James mutters, frowning. ‘It was war. That’s the definition of war. War is a lot.’

Lily rolls her eyes and takes a sip from her glass of wine. It is Regulus’s wine and he will have a fit when he finds out, but right before shutting down, they’d had a vicious fight and James is still reeling a little from it. ‘Stop being such a little bitch,’ Lily says, her expression entirely reproaching. ‘Callousness doesn’t suit you anymore. Regulus almost died. I think he’s allowed to be a bit torn up about it occasionally. Have you tried…talking to him?’

‘He just ignores me. That’s the problem!’ James groans, looking over to where Harry is trying to crawl under the coffee table to reach Regulus’s little demon cat. ‘Actually, right before the whole ignoring me problem, he told me to fuck off and find someone else to—and I quote—“cast as your trophy husband in your little perfect white-picket fence delusion”. I think he’s trying to break up with me, Lils!’

Lily snorts into her glass of wine. Because, of course she does. Regulus might have issues with her, but she’s still always appreciated him for his nasty acid tongue. In some ways, they really are one of a kind, and James occasionally wonders if he has a type.

‘He’s not wrong,’ she says. ‘You have always really loved playing house. Okay, okay, have you tried...just giving him space.’

‘There’s a continent of space between us!’ James exclaims. ‘That’s the problem!’

‘Alright, alright.’ Lily grabs Harry when he starts trying to grab the cat’s tail to yank it out from its hiding place beneath the glass coffee table. ‘Have you tried bitch slapping him, then?’

‘…thanks, you’re such a huge help, Lils.’

‘You can’t force someone to be okay if they’re not, James. You can just be there for them.’

Trapped in Lily’s arms, Harry shouts in protest and starts to squirm around like a fish out of water. He’s a spirited child (a tiny human, as Regulus puts it). Regulus has always loved that about him. That Harry is bold. Tenacious. At times he can be an absolute menace, a quality that Regulus nurtures in him.

‘I’m just going to…’ James grabs Harry and tucks him under his arm. ‘Give me a moment.’

He races upstairs, Harry giggling and thrashing about excitedly. When he reaches the bedroom, he doesn’t knock; Regulus will not permit him entry if he does. Inside, Regulus sits on the bed staring blankly at a book that is open in his lap. The curtains are drawn, so it’s not like he’d even be able to see well enough to read anyway.

Even in the darkness of his own tiny, private world, Regulus is so beautiful. His hair has grown long recently, the weight pulling his curls looser. James used to love tucking the loose strands behind his ears so he can see Regulus’s silver-grey eyes, so he can see all of Regulus’s face before he kisses him.

And then he realised, after a while, that Regulus lets his hair grow out when he’s not in a good way.

Harry waves exaggeratedly and shouts, ‘Hi!’ because he has yet to work out volume control. He crawls across the bed towards Regulus and perches next to him, reaching up to pat Regulus’s cheek.

‘I’ve come to bribe you with a tiny human,’ James says with a smile. ‘He’s been asking for you, you know.’

Regulus sighs and sets the book aside. I’m not in the mood, his expression says. I want to be alone, his expression says. But he, himself, speaks none of this because he’s always so cautious about Harry. So wary of breaking him the way he had been broken as a child. He takes the stuffed dragon that Harry offers him and sits it on his lap.

And then, slowly, he looks up at James. ‘Why am I here?’

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, James frowns. Because you lived, he wants to say. There is not a day that goes by that James does not thank every higher power in and out of existence that Regulus lived, because he would he would have died with Regulus otherwise. He would not have been able to survive such a loss. Not intact. Not whole. Regulus would have taken every vital part of James with him.

‘Why am I here?’ Regulus repeats.

James reaches over to stroke Harry’s hair. He wants so badly to run his fingers through Regulus’s hair, but he fears that Regulus will not accept touch right now.

‘Because I want you here,’ he whispers. ‘And I love you. And I hope you want to be here too.’ And I hope, he thinks, that you love me too.

‘Why?’ Regulus asks.

And James knows what he’s asking: why do you love me? It’s just that James does not know how to answer this. He just does. He loves Regulus because he cannot imagine any other way of being. He loves how gentle Regulus is, how simultaneously fragile and strong. He loves how clever Regulus is. How good Regulus is, how good Regulus wants to be. How brazen and forthright, how Regulus always speaks his mind. How fussy. How loyal. How intense. How proud. How Regulus’s feet always get cold. How Regulus loves cats because they’re independent and particular. How Regulus is slightly addicted to grapes. How he goes crazy if someone dog-ears his books.

James leans over and gently kisses Regulus’s forehead. The tip of his nose. His lips. A soft, chaste, closed-mouth kiss that he hopes says everything he cannot find the words to say right now and will hopefully be able to say one day. Soon.

He needs Regulus to know. To understand. To feel and believe it. That James wants him here. That James would not have it any other way.

#harry potter #fanfiction #myfanfiction #microfics #regulus black #james potter #jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #myjegulusmicrofics

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gurugirl · 1 year ago

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Hidden | mcc!harry

Summary: You convince Harry to take you to the Halloween Haunted House downtown. Of course you’ll both be well disguised - hidden in plain site. Thanks to this request!

Warning: 18+ only, smut, public sex, mask kink, voyeur kink (+ this is kidnapper!harry x reader and so this might not be your thing)

Word Count: 4042

Mint Chocolate Chip masterlist

“Look, Harry,” you showed him the flyer stuffed between the loose mail that had come in that day, “Haunted House Halloween: An Erotic Masquerade.”

Harry peered at the glossy pamphlet with a creepy-looking old building and the words at the bottom with contact information. $45 per person at the door. Extras not included.

“Can we go? I really want to go! Halloween has always been my favorite and we’ve never done anything together on Halloween. Please?” You sat the flyer down and slotted yourself between Harry’s legs as he sat on the couch, getting to your knees and rubbing your palms up his thighs, “It would mean so much to me. We’d have masks on so no one would even know it was us.”

Harry gave you an expressionless look. He wasn’t quite sure. He wanted to make you happy but he hated to go out in public. And he was sure there would be a lot of people at the event.

“I don’t know, pup. It’s risky with so many people.”

“Harry,” you softened your eyes and took his ringed hand in yours, bringing his fingertips to your lips, dotting little kisses to them, “I love you. How can I convince you that it’ll be worth it? That no one will ever see us?”

Well, you knew the answer to that. You knew how to get your way when it came to Harry. Pushing your fingers over his crotch, you bit your lip with your eyes on his, and pressed over his cock.

“Puppy…” he warned. He knew what you were doing. And he knew he was going to give in. If you were both in masks what was the harm anyway?

You laid your head on his thigh, looked up at him innocently, and began fumbling with his pants button, “Harry… I’m gonna suck you off now, okay? Make you come really hard and get me all messy.”

With your eyes still on his, Harry cradled the back of your head and licked his lips, “S’this what you think it’s gonna take for me to say yes?”

You nodded, your cheek smushed into his thigh. You were thriving from the eye contact he was giving you with his warm hand at the back of your head, all loving and soft with anticipation.

When you’d opened up his pants you could tell he was already thickened up to your delight. You loved making him hard. Loved that you did that to him. Loved that he picked you out of everyone because you were his special girl.

You shifted yourself and sat up so you could reach into his pants and pull him out. Sticking your hand under the band of his underwear he grunted as he sat back and put his hands behind his head to let you do your thing.

It was a struggle to get him out fully. He wasn’t helping you at all. He kept his bottom planted firmly on the couch, where normally he’d lift up so you could pull at his pants. But this was your way of showing him how much you wanted to go out for Halloween.

But you did manage to pull his dick out. Your fingers came into contact with his girthy shaft and you pushed his underwear down so you could see all of him. As you began to gently slide your hand up and down over his foreskin you looked up at him and could tell he was already gone. Dark eyes, pink lips parted, small puffs of breath falling from his lungs.

You gathered a bit of saliva in your mouth and pressed your lips to his tip, pushing the moisture out with your tongue and over his cock, using your fingers to slip it over his skin and down as far as your hand could go before his pants got in the way. You repeated, getting his cock coated with your saliva, little by little as your hand worked it over his shaft.

“It’s so yummy,” you moaned as you swiped your tongue upward to his frenulum, eyes pinned to his.

You were a fucking pro at this. Harry had taught you exactly what he liked and you were a quick learner. And now you’d perfected the skill of giving head to his preference. So much so, that Harry was already growing angrily hard with your lips and tongue and fingers working him into a frenzy.

When you’d finally put him out of his misery and you wrapped your plush, wet lips around his bulbous head he moaned and closed his eyes. He loved to feel you. Feel your lips and your tongue taking him in. The way you suckled and lapped at him as you forced yourself down until he bumped into your throat always had him trembling.

He gasped when you swallowed around his cock and spluttered over him, almost gagging but not quite. When he looked down at you your eyes were fixed up at him, already tearing up a bit.

“Puppy… my best girl,” he smoothed his hand over the back of your head as you attempted to smile at his sweet gesture, though it was hard with his thick cock lodged deep in your mouth.

So you went down further, sucking in a breath through your nostrils, and lowered down until his tip wasn’t just nudging into your throat but was slid into the back of it and pushing past your tonsils. He groaned and that spurred you on further as you closed your eyes and nuzzled down, your nose hitting his tummy and your chin pushed into his cotton underwear. You wished you could take his balls into your hands but this would have to do as he still had his pants over his thighs and only his cock was out for you.

Once you began to gag over him and the tears in your eyes started to run down your cheeks Harry bucked his hips up and pressed at the back of your head. You put your hands on his thighs to stabilize yourself as you gurgled and squeezed your eyes closed.

“Fuck… c’mere pup,” Harry’s voice was strained as he whined his words.

You popped off of him, gasping for breath as you did so, and quickly climbed into his lap as he asked.

Harry pushed your little dress up to your waist and pulled you down over him, your bare pussy already wet and puffy with need. You never wore panties when Harry was around. That was the rule.

“Want to come, puppy? Want to come with me?” Harry asked as he cupped your face.

You writhed your slick pussy against his deliciously hard cock. He was already throbbing. So close to coming, “Yes. If it’s okay.”

Harry moaned and looked down at where you two were pressed together, “It’s my favorite. Of course it’s okay. Put me inside, puppy. Ride me and make yourself come.”

And what else was there to do but obey? You pressed his tip into your entrance and let out a shaky moan as you slowly encased him and he pushed your insides apart until you had him stuffed into your pussy so deep you were seated over him, wetting his pants.

With Harry’s hands on your ass, he helped you lift up and slip down. With little gushy sounds coming from your pussy as you moved over him.

You both moaned and gasped, “Can I rub it? I want to come…” you panted as you looked down to where you were both connected. You needed to slip your fingers over your clit and you’d be done for in moments.

“Go on, baby. Been such a sweet girl for me.”

You slid your hand between your bodies and circled your clit as you continued to take his cock into you deeply. He was trembling at the way you were squeezing around him.

“Ahh!” You moaned when you felt your pussy flutter and Harry’s dick press into your guts repeatedly.

“Coming, puppy? Yeah? Needed my cock, didn’t you? It’s okay. There you go…” Harry tried to sound put together but he was panting and whining as he spoke his words to you as you came around him.

You gripped him tight and spasmed around him, thighs quivering and eyes wide, “Fuck! I need you, Harry!”

Harry clenched his jaw as his balls tightened against his body until he was pouring himself into you. He pumped his orgasm into your tummy and held you down with his teeth gritted, feeling that euphoric relief that only you could ever provide him.

. . .

You ordered your masks online. Harry’s was a skeleton mask and yours was a jeweled black cat mask. Harry was iffy about yours because it didn’t cover your lips and chin but once you tried it on for him he nodded, “Okay. That should do.”

He wore a full black suit with a black tie and you wore a long-sleeved black bodysuit with black high heels. It was actually quite sexy. And you thought Harry looked sexy too.

The haunted house was downtown. It was at an old historical home that was preserved among the modern buildings and skyscrapers. It was often used for events, dinners, parties… This time it was decked out for a Halloween masquerade. The night sky above with the old-fashioned lights hanging from the front façade and creepy spider webs at the entry made it feel so real.

There was a group waiting at the front, as people entered one by one.

When you and Harry finally got to the door your payment was taken and black plastic bracelets put on your wrists. The interior was breathtaking. Tall ceilings, crystal chandelier, a big open space for people to dance a section with a bar and tables, and seating along the wall at the back.

“This is incredible!” You held onto Harry’s hand (or better yet, he wasn’t letting go of yours) as you looked all around. The decorations were scary but tasteful somehow. Everyone was wearing a mask. The music was instrumental and slow but had a touch of something spooky as it was on a minor scale.

You both stood at the bar to order drinks. Harry decided against drinking anything. He was still on edge and wanted to keep an eye out in case of anything that should happen. Even the bartender you ordered from was wearing a mask. She was Medusa and her entire outfit was sleek but she wore a wild wig of snakes.

Harry continued to keep your hand in his as you walked around the room to check everything out. Your drink was tangy and refreshing. The further you got into the space you noticed there were smaller areas behind doorways with activities. A Ouija board room, a room with a witch's cauldron and various ingredients set on a table to add, a dark room that, once you stepped in you realized was almost as large as the main room. Couches and settees lined the walls, rugs on the floor, dim lighting at the edge, and people making out in the dark shadows, “This place has everything, Harry!” You laughed quietly as you pulled him along to the various areas.

Harry wasn’t hating it. He went because he knew you wanted to and because he tried to do anything he could to make you happy. But he was feeling more and more confident about the whole thing the longer you were there. The setup was impressive. The space was packed with people and you both were well disguised.

And also, he thought you looked absolutely gorgeous in your outfit. A tight bodysuit hugged your curves and your lips were painted a deep red. He’d consider talking you into going to the dark room for a bit of fooling around if the moment was right. He now understood the ‘erotic’ part of the masquerade. This felt almost like a big sex party. Though no one appeared to be having sex in the open, things were definitely lustfully charged.

When you’d finished your drink you turned to look at Harry, “Let’s dance a little.”

Harry shook his head, “Nahh. I don’t want to.”

He could see the pout on your lips as you protested, “I don’t want to dance by myself, Harry,” you pushed your fingers in between his and pulled at him.

“Well, I wouldn’t let you go out there to dance alone anyway. You’re not to leave my side.”

“But that’s not fair. Look,” you pointed toward the large space where masked adults were griding and slow dancing with dim lights flashing, “Just a little. Come on. Please?”

Harry sighed and looked toward the darkest corners of the dance area. There were people there, swaying and moving in synch. He could handle a bit of dancing. If it was to make you happy he’d do it.

“Fine.”

You squealed as you pulled at his hand and moved into the dancing bodies, but Harry kept pulling at you until you were outside of the area where the dim lights couldn’t find you.

Harry put his big hands on your hips and immediately you both began to swing softly. You put your arms over his shoulders and he nudged you in closer, “You look really pretty like this puppy.”

His voice was deep and you grinned at his compliment.

A couple that was dancing a few feet away had their masks moved off of their faces and were kissing as they danced together. You bit your lip and looked back up at Harry’s skeleton mask.

“What is it?” You could hear the smirk on his mouth. You wished you could see it.

“Just feels like a place where we could get away with a lot of stuff,” you swayed your hips and Harry nodded in response to you.

It did seem like that kind of place. It was dark inside. Lots of rooms, alcohol, hidden corners…

Harry dipped down to speak into your ear, “Turn around,” he pushed your hips and you turned in his arms so you were facing away. Suddenly he pulled you into him, your back into his chest and you both continued to slowly move to the rhythm.

When you felt his hands smooth up your ribs and over your tits you gasped and turned your head as he spoke into your ear, “What kind of things do you think we could get away with?”

You raised your arms and put your hands behind his neck, “I don’t know. This is a good example,” you pressed your bum into his crotch teasingly. But when you tried to move your hips away Harry brought a hand down from your breast to hold you in place, keeping his hips glued to your bottom.

“Now you’ve gone and done it, puppy.” He whispered into your ear. He kept one of his hands on your breast, kneading and squeezing as he ground his hips into your ass. You could feel him getting hard behind you and a small moan fell from your throat involuntarily.

You rubbed yourself over him harder and heard a groan from him, “Better behave.”

But you didn’t want to behave. You were feeling the sensuality of the dancefloor and everyone around you. The masks hid everyone’s identities and if their masks weren’t on their faces, their lips were connected, hiding behind skin pressed together and dark shadows.

“I want to be naughty,” you nearly purred as Harry pushed himself into your bottom and he moaned into your ear. You whispered, “I want to be bad.”

Harry couldn’t get close enough to you. He didn’t know what had gotten into himself but perhaps it was the way everyone around you two were practically dry-humping and getting themselves off while still clothed. He was sure he heard a man grunt and whine as the girl in front of him, pressed into him, coaxed him through softly with dirty words. Of course, who knew? Harry couldn’t be sure it was the sound of someone orgasming in their pants because he couldn’t see them clearly.

He felt your fingers over his as you pushed his hand down between your legs. You were warm and you inhaled a sharp breath when you pushed his digits over your fabric-covered clit. You guided his fingers over yourself as you leaned your head back into his shoulder.

Harry nudged himself into you, gently rocking his thickened prick into the fabric of his pants and into your soft bum.

You were both panting and grinding together in the dark next to other couples who were doing the same. It was like an illicit sex corner in a haunted mansion where no one knew for sure what anyone else was doing.

Soon he felt that your warm center was growing wet under the pads of his fingers. He could tell your body was growing limp against him as he kept one arm steady around your middle to hold you up, “Hold on, puppy. You’re almost there aren’t you? Filthy girl getting herself off on my fingers right in front of everyone here. Making a mess of my hand already,” his husky voice gave away that he was painfully turned on himself. He couldn’t hide it anyway, his cock was throbbing and his skin was rubbing into his underwear as he rocked himself harder into your plush bottom, the perfect amount of friction for his foreskin to move over his tip repeatedly. As good as it felt, he didn’t want to come in his trousers. He had another plan, now that he was beyond the point of no return.

You cried out as Harry hushed you. You could feel him solid, leaking between your cheeks as you came on his hand. Your legs buckled and you rocked yourself into his hand and grasped his arms. You couldn’t help yourself. You never could with Harry. He just did something to you. It had been that way since the beginning. It was as if your body reacted to him without you even needing to do anything.

You’d made a mess between your legs, which you felt when Harry finally moved his fingers from you and softly ushered you back to him, “Good girl. Needed to come didn’t you, puppy? It’s okay. You know I always give you what you want. Just like you always give me what I want.”

You opened your eyes and saw a couple staring at you. They were facing one another, griding to the music. Her lips were dropped open and she was moaning. Her mask barely covered her face so you could see her eyes on yours. The man, however, you couldn’t see, but his mask was aimed at you and Harry. They both seemed to be watching what had just happened. It was dark and perhaps they hadn’t seen everything but you had been loud.

Harry began to pull at you. You were too far gone to protest or to be embarrassed at what that couple might have just seen. Soon you were in the dark room with the plush couches and low lighting at the edges. Harry dragged you with him to the corner of a couch and made you climb onto his lap. You could hardly see his mask in the darkness but you could hear the moans and gasps of others all around.

Harry lifted his mask and pushed yours off your face and his mouth was on yours so fast you nearly fell backward off his lap. You could feel him fooling with his buckle and you leaned away, “What are you doing?”

“I need to come puppy and I’m about to burst. Need you to pump me in your hand and then put me in your mouth so I can come and we don’t make a big mess. Understood? I don’t think anyone in here will see us. It’s too dark. Besides, look,” he gestured toward the couple at the opposite side of the couch. You could hardly make out their bodies but you could see them moving rhythmically and you could hear what sounded like sex, skin sliding and gently thwacking together.

“Oh my god…” you whispered as you looked back toward Harry.

“Pup, I really need it. I’m in pain. Your wet pussy is all over my hand and it’s driving me crazy. If you take me in your mouth it’s the only way to keep me from coming in my pants.”

You would do anything he wanted. There was no way you’d say no. He had made you come moments earlier so it was the least you could do, “I could ride you. You can come inside of me. Might be even easier.”

“But your bodysuit–“

You interrupted, “Has a button to open it at the crotch for practical purposes,” you laughed. But it was truly meant for practical purposes. It’s why you selected the bodysuit. An opening so you could use the bathroom without having to take the full bodysuit off.

“Fuck baby, you don’t mind doing that?” Harry's vision was fuzzy he was so turned on. Normally he’d never go for something like that but the atmosphere of the place, and you were getting to him.

You straddled him properly, “Pull yourself out and I’ll get this open,” you whispered as you plucked at your button and unfolded the fabric from your wet crotch.

Harry was already out and stroking himself by the time you’d finally pulled the material off your crotch. He was so hard it almost hurt as he pulled you down on himself with a guttural moan. But you were so slick you had him coated and were gripping around him in no time.

Harry set his feet flat onto the floor and fucked himself up into you slowly. Each thrust had you bouncing slightly, and squishing down over him each time you fell. You both panted until Harry captured your mouth, his tongue finding yours right away. His mouth caught your moans as he slid himself into you deeply. Your head was spinning. You couldn’t believe you were having full-on sex in public with another couple likely doing the same thing as you just feet away.

The music and the noise from the others in the room covered the sounds that were coming from your own body. Your wet hole slopped over Harry’s wide cock and you were sure that despite him not wanting to make a mess, his pants were already wet and coated in your cream.

When Harry’s cock began to thrum inside of you and his groans into your mouth grew louder and more desperate he began to plunge into you faster. You held onto his shoulders tight and he shook as his thighs worked himself into your pussy eagerly. You knew he was about to come.

“Give me your come. I need it, Harry,” you whispered against his lips as a man not far from you let out a cough of ecstasy. It would be hard to deny that whoever that was had been coming at that very moment. The other man he was with moaning pathetically.

“Fuck, puppy…” Harry groaned against your lips as he held you down over his cock tight, “Coming… fuck ‘m coming… milking my cock like you need it…”

Harry leaned his head back and his mask slid down over his face as he released into you, small moans falling from his mouth. You loved making him come. Loved how it made you feel that he got so weak with you.

When Harry’s cock was properly drained he lifted his head back up and looked at you from behind his skeleton mask, “This is the best Halloween party I’ve ever been to.”

You laughed as you nuzzled against Harry, wrapping your arms around his neck, his cock still deep inside of you, “It really is. Want to go dance again?”

Harry chuckled lowly, “If we dance again we might just find ourselves back in this room fucking in this very spot. Or maybe I’ll have you bent over the couch arm next time…”

You grinned and leaned back to look at him, “Sounds perfect.”

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lovelettersforthedamned · 1 year ago

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Let Me Be There, Let Me Be Yours

--genre + trope: fluff, hurt/comfort, slight nsfw, 18+ ONLY MDNI

--pairing: frat!peter parker x f!reader

--word count: 1.7k

--summary: while attending peter's frat party, he realizes he wants to be more than friends with benefits with you after seeing his frat brother harry osborn flirt with you. this leads to an emotional conversation about the future with peter.

--warnings: drinking, mentions of alcohol/alcoholic games, suggestive nsfw, kinda forced drinking, protective!peter, drunk!reader, confession, peter takes care of reader while she's drunk, peter's down bad.

--gif credits: @talkaboutyourday

You can hear the bass bumping through the walls of the fraternity as you make your way up the steps of the porch. The first Delta Chi party of the school year brought in a lot of people this time. You hesitate before opening the door. Why you’re so nervous puzzles you, yet those thoughts are quickly interrupted by the smell of cheap beer and smoke flooding your senses. You look around trying to find any familiar faces.

“(L/N)!” Harry’s voice recognizable over the loud music echoing through the familiar frat. You turn around to find the familiar brunet with a red solo cup in his hand.

“Harry Osborn,” You taunt back, “Where’s Parker?”

“I don’t keep tabs on Parker? Who do you think I am, his best friend?” He waves his hand around in the air in a dramatic way.

“Actually yeah,” You laugh, reaching out for his cup to take a sip, “What’s this?” You take a sip before he can answer you. The familiar burn of the vodka runs down your throat. “Jesus,” You mutter to yourself.

“Let’s get you an actual drink, then we’ll go find your little boyfriend, Parker,” Harry throws an arm loosely around your shoulder leading you through the house.

“Since when was he my boyfriend?” You ask, looking up at Harry. He looks down at you with his typical shit-eating smirk and a quirk to his brow.

“My mistake then, just thought after you guys fucked the last few times he would’ve made it official or something,” he joked.

“Well-” You laughed, “We’re just fucking.”

You don’t remember getting to this point of being trashed, but you’re definitely there. One shot turned into two, then Harry offered to take another with you, and another. None of it matters as you finally see Peter grabbing a beer from the fridge. It takes a few ‘Excuse Me's' to eventually reach him, plotting a funny way to sneak up on him in the process, before you poke him on the side of his waist.

“Jesus fuck,” He turns quickly to look at the culprit, you. You honestly wonder how he didn’t get whiplash from turning that fast, “Are you serious?”

“Yes, are you serious?” You ask with a laugh. Your cheeks are warm, as you grin up at him. You think you’re the funniest person in the world right now, and Peter is looking at you with confusion, and a bit of amusement written across his face. He’s speechless at your state right now.

You feel an arm wrap around your shoulder, “Looks like you found him,” Harry teased.

“Yeah, you sure were a lot of help Osborn.”

Peter’s eyes dance between you and his best friend's arm that’s thrown casually across your shoulder. He doesn’t know what’s going on between you two, but he has a weird feeling in his stomach about it. It’s teetering on the line between anger and jealousy, but he doesn’t know why.

Harry sticks his tongue out playfully at you, all you can do is roll your eyes in response. Even though you knew you were pretty plastered right now, you also knew that Harry was not the one you wanted attention from. Being around Peter was easy, and most importantly, simple. What you have with him is strictly a situationship, friends with benefits, maybe. You’re still open to do as you please just as much as he is.

“How many drinks have you guys had,” Peter asks bluntly.

“A few,” The brunet answers for you both. You crane your neck up with a puzzled look, he meets your gaze, “What?”

“A few drinks? Harry, how many shots in are we,” You start counting with your fingers jokingly, you hold up at least 6 fingers, “This is just a few?”

This makes Peter look between the two of you again, “Hey, maybe we should go get water (Y/N)?” Still looking at Harry’s arm slinged around your frame.

“Nah, she’s fine,” Harry once again said for you, “Right, (Y/N)?”

You respond with a firm, yet dizzy nod, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Harry guides you away from Peter, the beer now warm in his hand as he’s been clenching it in his fist the entire time Harry interrupted your brief conversation. He watches as his frat brother leads you to a beer pong table, asking around if anyone wants to play with the two of you. As the game starts, Peter’s already in the background of the crowd watching how you sway as you aim for a cup. As the game goes on, you and Harry gain a lead and ultimately win the game, leaving you to play another round with two new people. Peter has gotten closer to you as viewers disperse to find another form of entertainment.

The second round started, and Peter can tell that you’re not doing well. There’s a more prominent bend in your knees, almost like you’re about to fold at any minute if you’re not too careful. The other team’s ball flew into a cup right in front of you, Harry insisting on you taking one for the team and chugging it. Maybe it’s because Peter has been watching you all night, but he notices a slight gag as you’re about half way through the drink.

This is what sets Peter off to approach you, “Maybe it’s time for you to actually get some water, yeah?” Reaching for your elbow to guide you away from the crowd, dragging you into the less populated kitchen.

“Parker, how many times…how many times do I have to tell you that I am fine,” you sluggishly reply, trying to pull away but ultimately failing.

“Peter, at this point you’re just killing the vibe,” Harry’s voice chimes in as he makes his way into the room, “Just go find someone else to bother, you’re interrupting us.” A smirk is on his face at that last bit, knowing he’s struck a nerve in Peter.

“Honestly Osborn, shut the fuck up,” Peter snaps. This pulls you out of your drunken haze, your eyes now locking onto the guys in front of you.

Harry just laughs, “Whoa, calm down Pete,” he raises his hands in defense.

“No Harry seriously, just get the fuck out of here,” Peter turns his back to his best friend and grabs your wrist, “Let’s go.”

“You’re not my boyfriend Parker,” You snap, ripping your arm from his grasp.

“Well you’re not letting me be your fucking boyfriend,” He quips.

“We’re just fucking, you made that clear since the beginning.”

Peter runs a hand through his hair, “I made that clear? You’re the one that-fuck,” He rubs a hand across his jaw in frustration, “Let’s go.” He grabs your wrist once again dragging you from the kitchen, he doesn’t falter when his shoulder rams into Harrys. He pulls you across the house and up the stairs to his room, despite your complaints.

“What the fuck-”

“I’m the one that made it clear?” He questions, now clearly frustrated, “You’re the one eye-fucking every guy in the room, (L/N).”

“Because I fucking can, like I said you’re not my fucking boyfriend! You don’t have that jurisdiction Peter!” You raise your voice.

“Because you won’t let me,” He spits out calmly. The tension in the room doubles, his new tone making the room feel small.

“Because I don’t fucking know how!” Your chest heaving with rage. Your eyes melting into his hazel set, “I don’t know how,” you repeat quieter. At this point your drunken haze has completely left you with a sick hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach. Peter just stares at you, unable to form words. The seconds tick by painfully slow, you become nervous as they pass. “Can you just say something Parker-actually fuck this,” you cut yourself off, turning to grab the door handel.

“I-I’m sorry,” He stutters, “I just don’t know what to say.”

“Figures,” You laugh sarcastically.

“Look (Y/N), we could make this work if you just let me in,” Peter says.

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m scared, Pete,” You glance at the floor with a sigh “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I can take it.”

You laugh,“I just can’t.”

He walks over to you, “Please,” he whispers, “I want to be with you.”

You turn to finally look at him, tears clinging to your lashes, you give him a sad smile as your eyes melt into his.

“Please,” He asks again, “Just let me try, just give us a try.”

“I don’t want to hurt you Pete, I can’t do that to you.”

“It’s fine,” A grin etching its way onto his face, “I’ll wait as long as you need me to.” He brings his hand up, cradling your cheek in his palm, wiping away the stray tear, “Just let me be there, let me be yours.”

You bring your hand to lay on top of his to keep the contact for just a bit longer, “Yeah,” you sniffle before you nod with a grin, “Fine, but if it becomes too much, you have to let it go.”

“You’ll never be too much for me.”

“Should we head downstairs?” You suggest, wiping the rest of ur tears.

Peter opens the door letting you walk out first, “Yeah, I think I need to talk to Harry real quick before I walk you home.”

As if right on cue Harry appears at the bottom of the stairs, “Yo, Parker! What I did was out of line, my bad dude. It won’t happen again.”

“Nah, it’s alright,” He says out loud before pulling him in for a quick side hug, “Don’t mess with her again like that, alright? Everyone else is fair game, not her though.”

A quick nod is shared between the brothers before you head out, walking back to your apartment, since it’s only a few minutes away. You and Peter aren’t simple, and you aren’t a situationship. You are navigating your way through each other’s lives, together.

--author's note: HEY!!! you guys love peter so much, and i love him so much that i had to go write about him again. really in my frat!peter era, so here's my take on this beautiful AU. shoutout to @webslingingslasher for being an absolute god in all things frat!peter, im obsessed. don't forget to like, comment, and reblog to support your writers!! ok ily, bye<3.

#frat!peter #tasm!peter parker #andrew garfield peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker fluff #tasm!peter parker fluff #peter parker hurt/comfort #marvel #andrew garfield #college au #frat!harry #protective!peter parker

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smuttyaf · 8 months ago

Text

The Ultimatum

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰; 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩.

wc; 14.2k | fifth part to the business

i can’t express how much i appreciate the love i’ve been getting from the series! so because of that, i decided to combine two parts together for this post (teehee) that means extra manipulative!h & extra smut. i hope you all enjoy!

tw: gaslighting, coercion, degradation, tad bit of edging, and bdsm. don’t read if it makes you uncomfy!!

Is it conceited for you to embrace the stares that wander over your appearance?

Men fit in muted suits and twinkling time pieces, letting their adventurous eyes drink in every stride of you entering the lively scenery. Cleavage bouncing with each step held by the floral stitched dress gracing your body in all the right places; slit down one side to reveal your smooth legs and expensive heels.

The warmth of Harry’s hand nestled along your waist has greedy eyes stab jealous daggers with each passing movement in the room. You can’t help the smirk that tugs along your lips. Even if all these men's eyes are set on you, Harry is the one who loves your look the most just as much as you love all his strategic ways.

The familiar scent of his cologne relaxes every nerve from being around his magnetic presence. He moves through the room with grace, head bowing every few moments acknowledging acquaintances and colleagues. Every stretch of skin over Harry drips class and elegance, from his styled curls to Saint Laurent suit, all you can do is admire him.

He clears his throat to draw your attention to him, peeling your chair open with eyes twinkling as you take your seat and let him position you better along the table.

Your gaze surveys the group of men before you, stern faces with loose smirks, it has knots tightening in your stomach. Harry's body rumbles next to you, turning your focus to him with a timid smile, your shy expression has his eye dropping into a wink, hands clasping together looking towards the men.

“Finally! He shows up!”

The circle breaks into laughter, you join in faintly at the sound. There’s a dealer set in the middle of the table continuing to shuffle the deck while distant chatter still fills your ears. Shoulders relax against the cushions of the stool, fingers curving over your pouch as your tongue runs along your bottom lip.

“C’mon, you know this city and it’s shit traffic,” Harry counters, fixing his cuff links while his feet rustle against the chair legs.

“If that’s what you want to call it.” Sneaky grin shining from the man parallel to you who stares at Harry.

The undertone of his comment sends blood to course furiously, cheeks beginning to warm as you sit up straighter in your chair, eyes trailing to the poker chips littering the table in different colours. It distracts the sound of Harry kissing his teeth with his hands drumming against the cushions of the decorative spread.

“Enough, are we playing or what?” He avoids, eyebrows peering up at the ginger employee shuffling the deck of cards.

“I’ll go for another round, how bout’ you Gio?” Bald man with tattoos all over his scalp looks towards the man at the end of the table.

He shrugs in return, his hand raising up for a waitress to trail towards the group. A bouncy brunette appears as Gio looks around the table.

“Marcallan for the men… and you darling, what would you like?” Nervous smile spreads on your lips from being addressed. Finger reaching behind your ear to tuck hair away, sight flicking between Harry and his friend.

“Anything from the Château line, please.” Smiling at him and the waitress, Gio runs his tongue over his teeth as he nods his head.

“And that wine for the lady, thank you dear.” Hand going into his breast pocket, pulling bills out and gracing it to her.

Your eyes turn back towards Harry, he nods his head towards Gio, appreciation caught in their gaze before they’re looking towards cards flying across the table for their own deck.

“I’m feeling lucky tonight,” Harry cracks, arms slinging along the spread with a charming smile looking over his group of friends.

“I wouldn’t speak so soon,” Slim man with long nose twirls his empty glass of ice cubes, cheery grin spread along his features.

“Yeah, so far Johnny is leading this,” Deep voice of the pudgy man next to Harry laughs. It barks in grunting breaths with his face going red. Your view on your boyfriend whose expression reads disdain.

The snicker next to you breaks your attention. Short black hair gelled with hazel eyes dancing in the light, his smirk is sinister being satisfied with his winning streak. Gaze catches with yours, looking over your features with his tongue peeking out and running across his lip. The exchange stirs your sight to Harry, nails curling into the leather of your bag swallowing heavily.

You didn’t know what to expect when Harry invited you to this fundraiser for the evening, but this definitely wasn’t it.

Italian accents and expensive apparel hold your vision when you look around the table. Whether silver and gold shine off their bodies, every peek of their appearance radiates money. All men are groomed and styled with sophistication that adds to the ambiance of the room.

Voluminous jewels hang off the chandelier, waiters walk around holding trays of food or flutes of champagne, guests roaming amongst the floor carrying the flow of the party. The scene is one of glitz and glamor; sparkling liquor, upbeat band, and everyone dressed to the nines.

It’s a beautiful sight of the finer things in life, women flashing their magnificent accessories while men flaunt their luxurious suits and polished dress shoes. A breathless sigh slips past your lips with spine flexing recognizing people from local television.

Despite working at Jasper’s and always encountering famous men, you never got used to them being in your presence. Even if it was dancing for them, the fact you either grew up watching them on the big screen or just reading about them in the weekly news, it still surprises you how you’re able to surround yourself with popular figures.

“Gonna introduce us to your friend here?” Voice beside yourself questions. It rings your ears as your focus remains on the green table.

“Right? Styles, where are your manners?” Teasing tone adding into the space. The attention being on you stirs your heart to pick up in pace, shaky fingers and fluttering lashes look back up at the group.

“This is Y/N, my girlfriend,” Harry's hand finds itself on your naked thigh, sight looking over your timid frame as he smoothes it down the expanse while all the men study your appearance. “So don’t stare too long.”

The night unfolds with drinks flowing and locker room chatter, nasty jokes with suggestive winks leave the poker table a roaring mess. Amused hands clapping at men winning more money or spilling humor. Your once darting eyes and racing heart calms down, acknowledging every word spoken and laughing at every dirty pun. It’s relieving how funny and easy-going the group of his friends are, they carry you into conversations and even get you to join the game.

With the alcohol running through your system it has the hours spent at the party go by in a breeze. Harry’s touch nestles itself by your side, view checking on you enjoying yourself. His reassuring touch and attentive demeanor increases the affection between you, it has you smiling at him genuinely throughout the party appreciating him.

But beside those nurturing moments, you learn in the hours spent over colourful chips and liquor more about the men Harry involves himself with. What you grasp from their innuendos are gruesome jokes about beating someone to the bone or how pleasing it is to see their oppositions dead. Your heart swells with sadness, not only that they find it funny but that Harry was laughing along. It wasn’t amusing to you as it was to him.

That would be the moment you drown out the truth and toss back the rest of your wine, and by the time the glass touches the coaster Harry orders another, pleased you’re compliant with the conversation. Deflecting gaze and clenching heart wanders amongst the mingling people and jazz band. It’s in your tispy state you notice luring eyes of women set on Harry, drinking him in with all his glory that it sends a surge of jealousy through you. Fingers tighten around his as your sight focuses back on him, glossy eyes and straight teeth shine with ignorance about the brutal truth of the relationship.

By the time you’re on your fourth glass, the group settles into calm crackles of past memories; whether it’s about stumbling upon a glory hole or reminiscing about life back in Italy, it subsides your slow pacing heart from the previous conversation.

“So I’m tired right, I got blood gushing from my head and I just busted my ass four blocks to get to Harry’s. I barge into his place, he’s there with Kenzo and Charlie watching sports, you know how this man is always watching sports right!” You giggle in amusement invested with the story.

“And I tell him; I need your help, I can’t tell you what it is, you can never ask me about it later, and we’re gonna hurt some people, and Harry, completely unfazed as ever goes, whose car are we taking?” The group erupts in laughter, as the man you learn to be Mateo, recounts his story.

Harry laughs with nails scratching against your skin, the view of him soothes yourself with warmth adoring him. Curls in waves combine with his amused laughter, skin folding by his eyes completely entertained with the story. The rowdy laughter carries on until there’s someone patting on his shoulder, salt and pepper roots with thick beard catching your sight.

“Styles! Nice to see you!”

Your jaw immediately tenses, nose wrinkles and cheeks blossom under the lights. Teeth clench down on each other as your heart begins to burn, this certainly wasn’t someone you expected to see tonight. Christian Bale in front of you and shaking Harry’s hand as if…

“Christian!” Harry cheers, going to greet him. At the same time his grip tightens around your knee your fingers trail towards your mouth, teeth nibbling on your nail with nerves raking through.

It’s in your movement that your familiar client catches your eyes, flash of surprise crossing his features before a pleased smile spreads.

“Where are you going? Stay for a game,” Harry chimes, hand gesturing to the poker table. The fact he’s even proposing that causes your fingers to curl into his anxiously.

The gesture is noticeable to him with gaze surveying your nervous appearance, before looking back to Christian who shakes his head.

“No, no, I was just on my way out.” Nodding towards the exit doors. Decline of the offer has Harry bow his head in acknowledgment, straightening up in his chair. “It was nice to see you before our meeting.”

“Likewise, get home safe.” Harry concludes the conversation with a genuine smile.

You’re extremely grateful that he passes up on the offer as he leaves towards the exit. Shallow breaths course through, searching eyes watch with teeth tearing away from acrylic, you draw your hand down and share a passive smile.

If you could wipe the sweat that trickles down your temple as if an sitcom, you would. Your heart never stops its thundering beats, discovering your boyfriend and regular client being friends? Colleagues? Whatever it is, it doesn’t sever the ache that grows in your chest.

“I think we should call it a night too,” Harry wonders, head twisting to look at you with a charming smile. “How does that sound?”

With the amount of liquor in your system and having witness that scene before you, the need to feel your blankets and its comforting material is one you pleasantly desire. The ends of your lips twist upwards as you nod.

So, a few minutes after Harry orders the valet for his Porsche you both bid the group farewells. Each man stands shaking Harry’s hand while they bring you in for a hug, respectable actions that leave you fond of the gesture.

The drive back to his penthouse is small talk about how the night went and if you enjoyed yourself. In the quiet space, your sight is caught on the moving buildings passing by in blurs, mind stuck on Mr. Bale while your voice conceals the uneasiness coursing through.

Christian has been your client for two years now, you see him every other week if he’s not on vacation or filming. Despite him being your regular, there is a cordial connection between you both; times he will confess to you problems in his life after too many drinks, or respecting your decision to not push the boundaries of your work position. Even though there’s a non-disclosure agreement binding the both of you, should you tell Harry your relationship with him?

The thoughts brewing are ones that have your back ruffling against the leather seats. How many of your other clients are connected to Harry? You’re so dizzy from the alcohol in your system, you can’t recall if you glazed over any at the party. But it doesn’t even matter in the end, you’re in distress regardless, the possibility of your clients having connections with him but don’t know who you belong to as they watch you dance. A shiver of guilt courses through.

By the time you get home, Harry and you undress and slip between the arms of each other, and by the time he’s completely wrapped up in you, you forget the man that races your mind. In the morning, Harry is already out the door leaving you to wander around his penthouse all afternoon before heading to your own home, caring for Cleo until it’s time to get ready for work.

Your week goes back to what it regularly is; upkeep of your appearance, different decorative robe, and withering under Harry’s touch. It completely slips your mind about your encounter with Christian, going about your life smiling at the postman from another bouquet or spending your time lodging around Harry’s living room until he gets home.

It’s another one of those days, legs crossed over each other with a magazine in your lap. Eyes drifting over the newest pieces in the Fendi collection while The Real Housewives drags along in the background. The chime of the elevator rings in the space notifying you of Harry’s arrival.

His dress shoes echo heavily amongst the polish floor as they cross the room, the severe sound of his paste has your head trialing up from the glossy booklet.

“Hi baby,” Cheerful voice greeting him, your eyes watch him make his way towards the bar.

Harry decides to ignore you with lips flat and jaw tensing. It’s when seeing the sight of him that you swallow heavily, and when glasses smash against the counter top it makes sweat begin to crease in your palms.

“Is everything okay?” Are your next words, nails curling into the shiny paper as you continue to watch him. He walks across the room, same hash footsteps that halt with his body sitting next to you.

Teeth bite down into your bottom lip as you continue to roam over Harry’s features, it reeks pure anger. Your heart pounding in your chest with toes curling in on themselves trying to control the stress overtaking you.

Maybe it’s another bad day at work? Maybe Johnny pissed him off like he always does? Maybe his anger isn’t directed towards you? So, with that glimmer of thought, your hand stretches out to place the magazine on his lap. Nervous smile peeking through as you look towards him.

“Isn’t this coat beautiful, I wonder if they have it in store?” You suggest, gaze catching between his forest eyes and the brown fur coat embroidered with the Fendi logo.

Harry looks towards the magazine, sight roaming over the image before his hand is closing the book and slapping it onto the center table. The ringing of the glass rattles every vein pulsing through. His actions focus your attention with tears beginning to swell.

He stares at the flowers adorning the surface, hand raising the glass to his lips as he swallows back whisky. The tension in the room is thick and uncomfortable, the expression written over his face is one you’ve never witnessed before. It’s why your nails curl into your pantyhose already leaving faint tears.

Harry clears his throat when pulling the drink away from his lips, tongue peeking out to wet flesh just as his eyes lock with you. Connection holding an eerie exchange that has your mouth run dry.

“You know when you joined me for the party Sunday night, I wondered what made you so flustered when Christrian introduced himself.” The mention of your client has your throat squeeze, tears now stinging your vision.

“Still, I thought nothing of it. He has his fame with his movies, his starlight, whatever… you see I thought that was the reason but no, no, no, that wasn’t why you got flustered, now is it?” Your chest now rises quickly with each breath.

Harry’s mad, screw that, mad is not even the word; he’s vexed, furious, absolutely outraged with eyes wide and each word coming out in an angry spew. The sight is haunting compared to the one you’re so use to.

“Since you don’t know, Christian and I are invested in the same stock, sometimes we have meetings going over bullshit graphs and other stupidness to fund. And when I thought that our usual meetings would go how they normally do, I was surprised when he brought you up.” Your skin is practically radiating more heat than the sun at the moment, you’re caught and sit in front of him in complete shock. “Asking me how I could’ve possibly been able to spend a night with you, how he’s been trying to… well, I don’t even want to say.”

“Harry I’m so sorry—”

“—Oh! So now you’re sorry, not when he smiled in my face and shook my hand?”

You’re the reason why he’s enraged and looking at you with such shame. A storm of tears pounds behind your eyes with nails now ruining your stockings, it was taking everything in you not to cry in front of him.

“Harry, I can’t say anything, I’m under contract.”

Those words have a bitter laugh floating in the air, condescending and threatening that your gaze falls towards the leather cushions. The ice cubes in his glass rattle against each other straining the atmosphere.

“Choose right now, your job or me.” Eyes go wide as they look back up at him. Your mouth wobbles as you swallow nervously.

“What?” Brows push together as your fingers unclench themselves around your knees.

“Right now, choose.” Heart pounds against your chest with thunder, tears begging to fall over your waterline as you look at him in surprise at the ultimatum.

All Harry does is stare back with his intense gaze and clenching hand. The emotions coursing through nearly make you faint, this was all too much, especially right now.

“B —Baby, Harry, I think we should just talk about this,”

“—That’s your answer.” Cutting you off with eyebrows high in question. Once again, your expression wavers with confusion and sadness. Mind still trying to process the events happening.

Your stuttering face has Harry pulling away from your presence with another amused laugh, hand slamming his glass down on the table before he’s leaning forward. The clattering objects make your body shake and tears begin to trickle from your eyes, fingers leave your legs to wipe away the sadness roaming down your cheeks.

You watch Harry begin to loosen his tie, knees raising him off the couch as he moves across the room again. His motions have you immediately following after, heels clicking behind his rushed steps trying to catch up to him.

“Get all your shit and get out!” Harry sneers, stomping up the stairs with yourself following behind in anxious beats.

His words have your heart tearing in half, cry leaving your lips as you try to ignore the water blurring your version and trailing down your skin.

“What? No!” Grabbing at Harry’s hand once reaching the landing, the gesture has his fingers jerk away from yours and continue his venture towards the bedroom.

Marching down the hall until swinging the door open, immediately going to your side of the dresser and beginning to toss your shirts and blouses across the floor, some trailing onto the bed as he empties your things.

“Stop! What are you doing!” You sob, bending to pick up the clothing and trying to shove them back in its place.

“You want to stay at Jasper’s! Fine, go ahead! But I won’t be with you anymore!” His voice booms over you, stinging words cutting deep that has another wave of tears shredding.

“I never said that!” You weep, hands trying to collect his who continues to throw your things. Actions so rushed and furious that he’s not even paying attention to your crying frame.

“It’s clear!” Harry tugs another drawer open tossing all your garments across the room.

“Well I’m not going!” Fingers catching onto the fabric in his hands that leave you both fighting over the piece.

“I don’t want you here! Get out!” Harry's voice roars over the sob that leaves your distraught frame.

You never heard Harry this way, and you’ve never seen him this angry either, and the fact he’s throwing you away as if nothing is leaving you completely broken. Every moment with him has been special since you met, and now the fucked up reveal of your secrets is shattering all that you once were. It’s stomping on your heart and playing in the smashed pieces.

You’re sure the eyeliner and mascara you put on this morning is running all over your cheeks, still your chest heaves heavy breaths as your hands trail up his arms to try and halt his movements. This is not what you want, this is the last thing you expected to happen, and it’s more devastating that it’s unfolding like this.

“H —Harry, please, just stop, you can’t mean this.” Soft voice wavering as you tug on his blazer, nails digging into his skin roughly to get attention.

And it does, his sight cold and jaw clenching from the view of your appearance. The draw down your frame looks as if he’s ashamed, like he doesn’t even want to look at you right now. It’s the sight that makes you want to apologize over and over again.

“How is she in bed? Is she as sweet as I imagine?”

Crack lips part, lashes fluttering with brows drawing together; all your features resemble pure shock at the reiteration of Christian’s words. Now you stand in this room that once held such love and affection be swallowed by heartbreak. Chanel, Prada, Armani, gifts that Harry presented for your own space in his life; they now grace the floor as if a memory long forgotten.

“She always told me she never does those things, kinda’ offended she didn’t reveal to me her added profession.”

Olive eyes shine with distaste looking at your withering appearance. Jaw tensing and fingers still clenching around your shirt. Another shaky breath courses through, examining eyes and twitching mouth not knowing what to say.

“You don’t know how badly I wanted to beat the livin’ shit out of him. The way he describes you, talks about you. I had to bite my tongue hearing everything.” Nails relax against his arms with your lips pressing tightly together. “I’m disgusted.”

His words aim to bruise, leaving sadness to blossom in the hollows of your heart. Everything is falling apart right in front of your eyes and all you can do is let tears continue to run. Why didn’t you tell him? Why didn’t you say something?

“So choose, Jasper’s or me.”

“You.”

Nodding up at him, the ends of your mouth tug into a timid smile with your hands drawing down to cradle his fingers. His nostrils flare still angry, still completely furious.

The answer doesn’t ease the tension in the room, instead it heightens your decision, the one you should’ve said before fumbling over your words. Shining rays of light pass through the window, brightness gracing over the clothes flung across the space amidst the battlefield of sadness and rage.

“I —I choose you, I’ll leave Jasper’s, I —I’m sorry.” Fingers encasing around his as you step deeper into his presence. Harry retreats into the dresser, chest flexing with grip contracting around the shirt in hand.

Cold eyes don’t break sight over your sniffling appearance. Intimidation radiates from his towering posture that cradles your worried frame. Even fully clothed, Harry eyes undress every vulnerable twitch that courses through, lashes batting up at him heartbroken and needy, always so needy.

“You quit tomorrow.” He demands, hands dropping the garment and gripping the underside of your arm. “You’ll move out of your apartment, stay with me and be my good little doll. Is that clear?” Now it’s your turn for your body to tense. Tear stained cheeks and paint smeared eyes bow under Harry’s gaze.

“Now I don’t want this happening again. I shouldn’t have to do this to show you what you really want.”

His grip over your arm has you stumbling backwards towards the bed, knees cushioning your seated position as Harry’s other hand goes towards your neck, holding your gaze as he looks over you.

The room captures two lovers; one manipulative with his calculating actions, while the other is victim to the love prayed over with affection and money. His behavior is overseen by your emotions so easily embraced by him. It’s why you stare at him in virtue despite everything that has transpired in your life already, the one that’s now completely devoted to Harry.

“I hate to make you cry… but you look so pretty.”

Thumb spreads over your skin as his head cranes down, lips gazing over each other as his eyes continue to examine your hesitant frame. He loves the way your breath quivers as he moves closer, body shifting against his grip as he looms over your frame in complete awe of you.

“It’s gonna be okay, baby. You know I’ll take care of you, I always do… and with Jasper’s, that place holds you back, you know that, don’t you?” Fingers shaking your head playfully with his sight still never trailing off your bitten lip and doe eyes. “You’ll love it here, keep my bed nice and warm. Won’t you, darling?”

“Yes.”

Though agreeing with everything Harry says, the feeling of your heart trying to repair itself cracks even more at the obligations being set in place. Restrictions now apply over your life to be with him. It’s scary, and alarming, and you should really catch your breath and think over everything he’s saying but you don’t, not with his hand cradling your skin and eyes drawing you in.

“No more dancing, no more clients, just me.”

Nodding your head again with deep breath releasing, your fingers curl around the material of your velvet dress. Heart paces with sorrow realizing you won’t be wrapped up in your long tulle robe, receive generous tips, or have your girl talk surrounded by vanity lights.

“If I find out about another one I’ll kill them. Swear to god I will.” Chest quivers as his words float along your face. Intense stare watching the way you swallow heavily and bow your head at him.

“I’m sorry.” Soft voice slipping past your lips as the storm behind your eyes calms down. Fingers that once ruffled against your dress rise up and close around his wrist, lashes batting up at him with a shaky smile.

“Only you, it’s only ever been you.”

Harry tightens his grip around your jaw. Sight still surveying your anxious frame, his other hand runs down your face before tucking hair away. The ends of his lips tug up at the same time he’s shaking your head playfully, again.

Just like always, his demeanor radiates satisfaction at your attention. Heart growing fond of you surrendering yourself, complying to every requirement. Harry falls more in love with the way he can control you, how you’re now his entirely. He’s happy knowing that he’ll come home to your pretty self waiting for him and ready for anything he proposes, all because you’re just that dedicated to please him.

It’s why his head lowers, lips connecting against your bitten ones. The grip over your jaw sliding down your neck, rubbing the skin roughly as tongues link together to dance. Ignorance of the heated scene passing over both of your minds while his hand tightens.

The bourbon on his tongue adds to the intoxicating sensation that runs through you whenever you taste him. It’s the type that you want passing through your own veins just loving it that much, loving him that much. Harry cares about you, isn’t it obvious? He wants what’s best for you, that’s why he’s making you leave Jasper’s and have you live with him to spend the rest of your days.

His hand curls around your neck, mouths parting as his sight goes back to examining your face. There’s still pink roaming across the hollows of your eyes, cheeks a mess of black liner, and daze still twinkling up at him.

“Show me how sorry you are.”

Darting sight looks between his smirk and preying self, knees pushing off the bed to fall to the floor with connection never breaking. His hands follow every motion of your head as it nods at him, your fingers going to his belt and immediately beginning to undo it.

Thick bulge pressed tightly against his zipper revealing how turned on he got at the heated exchange. Your hand releases him from his boxers while your other tugs the rest of his slacks down, mouth not waiting to accept him graciously. Shallow taste of salt on your tongue as it twirls around his head, eyes blinking up as you apologize in his favorite way.

Lips bubble with spit as you roam down his length, clear fluid coating him in the rush of your descent, the urgent need to display how sorry you are shows.

Your mouth parts lowering yourself around him, tongue laying flat along the underside craving out every pulsing vein beneath erect skin. The warmth of you wrapping around his cock has a relieving sigh pass through him.

“Be my perfect girl.” Fingers massaging your scalp as you continue to swallow him down. “Show me how sorry you are.”

Harry watches every bob of your head, plump lips sucking him and feeling your throat relax and accept him effortlessly. Connection shimmers with obedience as you prove to him how guilty you feel for thinking you wouldn’t choose him over anything.

Acknowledging his comments your mouth descends down his cock even further, neck contracting around his length as your nose tickles his pelvis, moan stifles against him at the way he stretches your throat. The effect of him between your lips already has your pussy throbbing, wetness beginning to coat your folds falling into his every tactic.

The hand placed on his thigh moves towards his dick, enclosing around it and gliding with every bob of your head, added pleasure being received happily as his fingers curl into your locks.

“Just like that,” Harry coos, hips thrusting into your motions as you continue swallowing him down.

Shivers of delight course through happy you’re pleasing him. It’s reassuring hearing his groan over your movements. Knees shuffling across the floor, strands of hair shifting with every dip and saliva causing his cock to glisten in the light.

It’s beautiful how it shines, mini air bubbles roaming along the nerves pulsating along your tongue. It was a sight to see, a sight you adore. It’s why your body tries to contain yourself from the sparks igniting. You’re happy to apologize to him, happy to show him that he’s the only one for you.

The expressions of pleasure slipping from Harry uplifts your spirit, you’re back on his good side, and you want to remain there. The look of disgust that once crossed his face is one you never want to see again, especially his words. You’re supposed to be his good doll, not one to lie or deceive him. That’s why you’re on your best behavior, doing anything to prove yourself.

“I’ll do anything to show you that you’re the only one I want.” Fingers tightening around his length that has him groaning from the look over your face, eyes caught on your forgiving frame that he can’t help but smirk. Palms now hold your face up in his favorite place. “You always treat me so good, I’m sorry baby.”

Hand continues to roam down his cock in twists, easily sliding with spit as your gaze doesn’t break. Needy eyes and pouty lips, it’s Harry's favorite image of you; and with your makeup all streaked down your cheeks, he wants this moment to be photographed so he can save it in his wallet to show how devoted you are to pleasing him.

His grip over you halts your movements, fingers roughly carrying your face towards him as your knees flex with gasp falling from your lips, his actions have your hands contract and draw away.

“Show me.”

The words guide your movements to reach behind your back. Nails catching on your zipper to draw it down your frame. Fitted dress falling down your body as your heels are next, toes slipping out of your pumps and touching the heated wood, and with each movement of you shredding off your panties and stockings, Harry is there watching your every move while he strokes himself.

The soft skin of your curves sit on display for him to admire. Swelling breasts so perfect and round, thighs so deliciously smooth and begging to be in his hold. God, Harry is in love with you. Every vulnerable inch of yourself is exposed for his greedy eyes. It’s why he begins undressing himself; dress shoes kicking off, slacks joining the mess on the floor, and every button of his dress shirt revealing inked skin under your gaze.

“Turn around.”

Following his command, you do. Eyes staring at all your clothes thrown over the space, nails drawing down your thighs eagerly as you hear ruffling behind you.

“Get on the bed, face down.”

Legs bend, knees ruffling against the sheets while your spine curves in. The side of your face is comforted by your slick blouse as your hands reach out in front of you, fingers curling around loose garments with your pussy set on display.

Harry’s steps shift amongst the floor, palm sliding to your lower back shoving you deeper into the bed as the head of his cock drags down your creamy folds.

“Look so pretty like this baby.” Dick pushing past your lips and spreading you wide. Your mouth hangs open, a satisfied moan trailing into the air of Harry stretching you out with all his length. “I love when you tell me you’re sorry.”

Whimpers spill, head rotating in pleasure as your hips jerk with each pound of his. Harry draws out slowly before thrusting back in roughly, each strike filling your pussy just the way you like. It never mattered what position you found yourselves in, he was always reaching parts of you that had your toes curling, and the fact that he’s pounding away not even allowing you to adjust sends a greedy sensation through you.

Harry is using your pussy just the way you like; fucking you however he pleases like the doll you are to him. It’s exhilarating, it’s mind numbing, leaving you light headed and addicted to every strike opening you wide.

“That’s right… take my dick.” Deafening slap roaming against your ass. It has your teeth biting into the silk and push against his thrusts with adrenaline coursing through.

“Baby,” Nails curling tightly into your shirts, while his grip over your hips controls you to accept every hungry pound.

Harry surveys your jolting frame, flexing back and shoulders craning as your arms roam higher up the sheets. Fingers drag and curl around the piles of mess lying across the sheets, plump lips hanging open in adoration at his urgent thrusts.

You look so beautiful like this, are his immediate thoughts floating in his mind; the way you grant him pleasure within the depths of your body that he loves to sink into, so beautiful.

Every delicious sound of your voice crying out in a whimper or moan just drives his hips even more, hands slipping up your neck and shoving your head into the blouse, hungry growl leaving him as your eyes squeeze shut with your pussy quivering around him. God does he love you so much, don’t you see that? Don’t you feel it? With every rock of his hips don’t you feel the electric pulse of him, how he’s so hungry craving more of your sweetness.

It’s the smirk that carries across his lips with knowledge that you know, you have to. Because with every coat of your nectar sliding down and accepting his cock he can feel your walls tighten and release; skin folding between your brows, knuckles going white from your grip over the sheets, pussy accepting every assault that you admire so much. Yes, he’s sure you know.

“Tell me you’re sorry.” He demands, chest parallel to your shoulders as he mounts you into the bed.

Harry’s hips have your body bouncing into the springs, face squishing and wheezing sighs of air passing through the thin material of your top. He’s so intoxicating the way he fucks you into the bed and shows you were you belong.

“I’m sorry!” Moaning while your fingers drag down the bed in agony at the ticks of your climax crawling through your foot.

“I’m so, so, sorry,” Voice going hoarse as your thighs quiver, eyes fluttering open to see lace and silk engulf your vision.

“Mhm, don’t you want to be my good girl?” Thrusts never halting as he continues to pound away at your cervix.

“Yes, god, yes!” Head straining against his hold as your stomach clenches with nerves.

Harry continues going, erratic thrusts of his cock in your drenched pussy, the sound of his hips plummeting your backside meets with every groan and whimper trailing in the air. The sounds drawing from the room float all the way into the hallway, each other's appetite being fulfilled in the messy foundation of your relationship.

“That’s my perfect girl,” Harry hums, lips pressing into your bobbing head as you completely unravel around him.

Hypnotic pulses sting down your spine as your head twists in his hold, teeth bite into the sheets as your pussy quivers all around him. Chest heaves as your mind goes completely blank, every thought and emotion is wrapped in him, loving everything he does.

“Oh my god, Harry,” Whining while you go sore around him as he continues his torment.

“That’s it baby… I feel you.” He breathes into your ear, hand releasing around your neck, the hold of you around his cock adds to him moaning into your sweating skin. “So good for me, just the way I like.”

Hips slowly dive back in, motions changing from their rough propelling paste to affectionate loving strokes. So exhilarating and passionate as he feels your body go limp around him.

It’s in the way your mouth parts, salvia stringing between your plump lips that Harry groans heavily against you. The mess of your hair mattes against his, the smell of your shampoo filling his nose as your back ruffles against his chest. Ticking sensations coursing through still leaving you feeling drowsy with your climax consuming you.

The dazed expression crossing your face is a captivating site, one that has Harry spilling into you, long moan brushing over your face as he relaxes into your body. Two hearts in the same room trying to regulate their breathing as they come down from the adrenaline that once pierced you into the sheets.

You feel Harry go slack, cock slipping out as he rolls off your body. You still breathe in shaky breaths, waist falling into the mattress as your thighs ruffle against the garments with limbs twitching from the waves of your release still coursing through.

As your mind continues to wander itself through fog you don't realize Harry sitting up in bed and putting himself back together, feet shuffling across the floor as he walks around the bed frame.

The noise catches your attention first before the sight of him entering the bathroom, and even despite him just fucking you brutally into the sheets he still looks upset.

“Clean up this mess and get ready for dinner, reservation is for seven.” Is all he says, the bathroom door slamming shut ending further conversation, only meaning that your apology isn’t accepted.

For thirty minutes you sit across from each other and let silence eat you up. Nails picking the skin around your cuticles, teeth biting into flesh while Harry on the other hand is extremely relaxed. Poised, professional, and avoiding your presence as if you’re not even there.

It’s over dinner that you realize, no matter how many times you try to shine your pearly white teeth or strike up a conversation, if Harry is in a bad mood that means you suffer in the projection of his feelings.

You can’t even be surprised by his anger, it’s really what you expect. You lied for days just for him to find out from Christian himself, and to make it even worse, he talked about you in a way that even made your skin crawl.

Harry avoided you for the rest of the night; no eye contact, no kisses, and no cuddling once in bed. It sinks your soul knowing you’re the reason behind the way he’s treating you at the moment, but it’s only right you endure this. It’s your fault.

That’s why you aren’t surprised when you wake up to the text from him reminding you of what’s needed today. The one thing you never thought would happen so soon. No more decorative feathers, no more giggling and suggestive talks, no more tips and dancing, no more Jasper. Three years gone, the memories you have are ones you hold dear; it’s why it pains you right now.

Looking at yourself in the goblet mirror adoring the dresser, that was previously pulled apart in a furious rage, tears prick your eyes recalling all the fond moments. Girls helping out with makeup, advice on which robe to wear, gossiping about clients, god, you’ll miss it all. But, it’s better this way. It’s better to have Harry take care of you, it’s nice really. You don’t have to worry about other men touching you, or whispering what they would like to do if given the chance. Sure, the money was nice and all but, Harry gives you anything you ask for, so maybe it isn’t that bad. Maybe, it’ll be okay.

“Miss, the car is ready for you.” Knock at the door awakening you from your thoughts. You inhale sharply, fingers running through your hair nervously as you nod at yourself.

“Okay, I’ll be right down!” You call, back turning and grabbing your coat.

The drive to Jasper’s is quiet, the streets outside the truck don’t puncture the memories that you reminisce about. Working your ass off at such a young age from waitressing to odd jobs, Jasper’s was a breath of fresh air despite the downside of dancing and late nights, you began to live a life of luxury, the life you always dreamed about. You did it by yourself, on your own and you’re proud about that. You could’ve given up at any moment but instead you pulled through, and now look, you found someone who’s going to take care of you.

Despite the tension between you and Harry at the moment, it’s obvious he wants to keep you by his side, should you really object to that? You spend the majority of your time with him, he always takes you out to dinner, buys whatever you want, and shows you love whenever needed (disregarding the current circumstance) so it really isn’t like his suggestions aren’t true. You’ll be better off with Harry, you know deep down this slippery slope that it will get better, and once you move in it’ll be easier just to please him. It’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.

Once Harry's team helps you out of the truck and to your familiar destination the surge of anxiety scorches through. Heart beating erratically, fingers fidgeting in your coat, eyes move in every direction as you tug your way to his office. It pains you to be in this situation, and you would do everything to not stand here right now facing the same door that welcomed you with open arms but now it’s too late.

Your palm curls around the golden knob and an uneasy smile tugs at your lips, seeing Jasper’s low eyes and ruffled hair. It only brings back so many memories, ones that you’ll remember forever.

“Y/N! My sweetheart!” Jasper stands, walking around the desk and opening up his arms.

You immediately go towards him. Hands wrapping around his back and ingesting the smell of coffee and cigarettes. Weirdly it calmed you down, settling the uneasiness through you as you lay against his chest.

The first time you ever met Jasper there was always a loving connection between you both, as if father and daughter. Southern accent and tired look never giving off irritation or displeasure whenever around. Always treating everyone with such kindness and respect, he never changed since you first met him, and that’s what you like most about him. Jasper is Jasper.

“My dear girl, it feels like forever since I last saw you,” Pulling away he smiles, crooked teeth and chapped lips shining as you bow your head in acknowledgment.

“I know, I know, I’ve been really busy lately.” You confide, eyes darting between him and the birds that roam outside the window.

Jasper sighs looking over your frame before stepping back. His hand gestures to the chairs seated in front of the desk. You immediately oblige, legs crossing over each other with hands curling together in your lap. Now you wish you could nestle in his chest just like a few seconds ago, burrow yourself into the coffee smell and forget the reason why you’re in this office.

“Yes, I see, you've been taking your vacation days quite often.” The words only elect an anxious draw of breath. Now your palms begin to grow with sweat, and you swear your ears start to ring from your mind racing.

“Yes, sir. I just thought… I —I… um,” Stuttering not knowing what to say or where to direct your attention. Your heart is going crazy in your chest, pounding so hard against its cage that you might pass out. “I found someone.”

You basically whisper those words but Jasper, he hears and he smiles. It’s one that knows the secret without having to hear the reveal. You’re sure it is written all over your face, and with the grin that tugs across his lips, you calm down just a bit.

“Is it Styles?” You blink with mouth parted and pain quaking throughout your bones.

“Y/N…” He sighs, hand brushing through his messy hair as he leans back in his chair. “I looked through your client log, I’ve seen Styles was your regular for about two months or so until he stopped returning; in that same time you begin using your vacation days. It quirked my interest so I decided to go through the security cameras during that time frame and…”

Your whole entire body goes hot, ears burning, and stomach turning, quite frankly you want to throw up. You’re stupid to forget about the hidden cameras in the room. God, of course this happens to you. Of course your boss saw you in every imaginable way within the two months Harry spent still coming here. You want to curl into a ball and forget this even happened.

“Dear…” Jasper breathes again, concerned look written all over his face despite your raging appearance. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Those are in there to protect everyone, and we’re humans, it’s natural, so don’t think too much about it, alright?”

You nod your head timidly as your leg begins to bob, you drop your head and try your best to not let tears run down your cheeks. You already went through a crying fit yesterday and you’re not going through another one again.

“You already know my thoughts on you Y/N. You’ve been my star since you walked into this place. I just want you to be safe.” Chin tilting your version to look back up at the concerned boss who was like a father to you. This couldn’t get any worse. Having to leave everything you know behind, this absolutely sucks.

“I know Styles… I know the life he lives isn’t the best and it’s definitely not the happiest. I just want you to fully understand what you’re getting yourself into.” Jasper leans forward, hand reaching out for yours which you don’t hesitate to give. You don’t hold back anymore, letting the tears trickle down slowly as you breathe in, throat straining from this moment, the one you still can’t believe is happening.

“I’ll be fine, Jasper. I know I will.” You nod with reassurance, free hand swiping away the tears that still spill. His fingers curl around yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles trying to sooth you but, when that isn’t enough he steps around the desk, body engulfing your shaking frame as you try to regain some composure.

“Grace and I are always here, you know that darling. You don’t gotta worry.” Hand patting your hair as you nod into his stomach, nose sniffing through the space.

“I know…” You sigh. Peeling away from his presence, a small smile on your lips as you look up at him. “This isn’t a goodbye, I promise.”

Jasper nods his head softly, tired expression still lingering as he looks over your frame while he continues to run his hands over your locks. The action soothes you. The storm brewing inside calms itself, the current subsiding and the tears that once roam down your cheeks halt. Your heart quiets down, chest relaxing with head drawing away from him as you wipe away any streaks.

You stand to wrap around him once again, breathing in his usual scent just hoping the clock can turn back time and things can go back to how they once were. Jasper rocks you, letting all the pulsing veins in your body rest and ease your shaking body to a halt.

“I’ll miss you.” You breathe into his chest before looking up at him. The smile you adore shines brightly as he pats your lower back.

“This is home darling, you’ll always know where to find me if needed, alright?” Jasper reassures. Nodding up at him once more, you pull away and offer a genuine grin.

Departing from his touch there’s a sense of loneliness spreading through. Giving up your work and home to live with Harry, in hindsight, there’s nothing wrong with having him take care of you, if anything you should be happy that he’s willing to do that. It shows the love he has for you but, why in this moment does it feel like you’re giving up your life; not on your terms but his.

When closing the chestnut door the walk down the familiar hallway is bittersweet. Intricate designs plastered on every inch of the walls, gold fixtures shining against the dim light before you reach the elevator and ring it back to the main floor.

Every chime is one you cherish no matter how stupid it may seem, the sound is sentimental and will forever be ingrained in your memory from the many nights your tall heels would stand in the moving machine. Your eyes dance around the revolving mirrors and lit up numbers, your fingers tracing over the covers and drinking them in as it will be the last time you’ll probably press them again.

The ding of the elevator thrusts you out of your thoughts and through the doors, it’s to your surprise once leaving that ginger hair and beaming smile greet you. The sweet aroma of her perfume wafts your senses as she pulls you into a hug, fur and strands of hair prickle against your skin as you lean into her touch.

“Hey babe! You’re working with me today?” Grace asks while pulling away, happiness written all over her features.

“Uh… no actually, just had to speak to Jasper,” You say, concealing the truth with an exaggerated eye roll.

“Don’t blame him, I barely see you anymore,” She jabs, hand gently shoving you which leaves you shaking your head in response.

“I’m busy, what can I say?” You shrug raising your hands up playfully to surrender.

“Yeah, busy being under Harry any chance you get,” It’s her turn to roll her eyes and nudge you with her hip. “But, hey! Angelo actually got me a booth tonight at his club, why don’t you and Harry come!” Grace suggests. Hazel eyes and white teeth shine with excitement at her offer.

You’ve never been with him in that sort of setting before, and honestly you don’t know how he’ll be either. But, you both are also not on great terms, so maybe a night out with some drinks and dancing will do you both some good.

“Uh, yeah, that actually sounds fun. I’ll ask him.” You beam with fakeness. “I actually should get going now, the car is waiting for me.”

“Okay! Hope to see you tonight!” Grace grins, pulling you into another hug before going to her destination.

Nodding your head timidly, you watch her orange hair bounce down the hall until her body disappears. A shaky breath escapes as you turn towards the entrance, hands fitting into your pockets as you push the doors open. The brisk air sweeps through as you tug your way towards the truck. Sincere smile spreads as Elio helps you into the vehicle before getting behind the wheel.

“Should I inform Mr. Styles that everything went as expected?” He calls from the front. Your hand tears away from their place and swipes away the lingering strands of hair combing over your face.

“Yes, it went well.” You sigh, eyes looking out the window as the car begins to move. The French pillars trail out of your version, leaving your heart splitting down the middle at the conclusion of your life.

“Actually Elio, can you do me a favor and ask Harry something for me?”

Surprise is an understatement with the fact you're walking through the club with music thumping your ear drums. Harry’s hand is secured tightly amongst your hips while the floor shakes from the erratic beat coursing through. With all the bodies shuffling through the room, you’re happy Harry’s team is pushing people through the mess directing you where to go.

You didn’t think he would agree to coming out tonight, but when he did you couldn’t have been anything but ecstatic. You threw on your tightest dress and curled your hair just the way he likes, also opting to wear the perfume he complimented on how irresistible you smell. Tonight you were going to win him back the way you know how.

“Yay! I’m so happy you came!” Grace screams over the song while pulling you into a hug.

“Oh my god!” Lucy joins, wrapping around you both. The feeling of another body being engulfed in the circle only means it’s Clarissa. The grin on your face spreads wider at the moment, head knocking around until they all pull apart.

“Hot lil’ thing aren’t you,” Clarissa remarks once pulling away. Her hand collects yours to twirl you around and display your appearance, the action only leaves you laughing as you smile at your friends.

“Thank you, thank you,” Rolling your eyes playfully as she releases her hold. The fitted black garment hugs your curves deliciously while your heels accentuate the length of your legs.

“But… everyone meet Harry,” You say, sight darting to him as you let your arm wrap around his waist, head leaning onto his chest as he smiles stiffly at your group of friends.

“Hello!” He nods to each, colourful strobes shine over everyone in the reserved area as all your friends introduce themselves.

“This bottle of Don Julio isn’t gonna finish itself!” Grace screams, picking the lengthy bottle off the table and raising in the air. It makes you giggle before turning to Harry with eyebrows raised.

“Let’s have fun tonight, yeah?” You say, hand running up his stomach before turning towards Grace who's already pouring shots for everyone.

After that, the night is in full swing; neon lights flashing over sweaty bodies, alcohol either being passed around in short glasses or poured into mouths messily, confetti shoots in the air every few moments as music blasts through the speakers.

The atmosphere in the booth is an energetic thrill, everyone getting along by singing and dancing, laughter and cheers filling the air as liquor takes over everyones system and leaves them in a good mood.

It’s in the flashing message board bringing another bottle that you realize how intoxicated you really are. The lights blinking at you seem to shift slowly, the music sounding through the space drowns out in a blur of noise as you stumble your way towards Harry, half empty Patron in your hand as you step in front of him.

“Open please!” You giggle up at him, fingers swinging the drink in hand while wiggling eyebrows.

“I’m good love,” Harry smiles down at you, his fingers finding their place on your hip as you pout at him.

“No! Tell him he needs to loosen up,” Turning your attention to Angelo who laughs at the exchange, shaking his head.

“Oh, come on,” You huff, rolling your eyes yet slipping deeper into Harry’s warmth. If he doesn’t want to take anymore shots then you surely will, you raise the clear bottle to your mouth, lips parting and happily willing to accept the liquor till you feel his hands tear it away from your hold.

“Trust me darling, you don’t need anymore,” Harry points out and passes the bottle to Angelo.

It only has you pouting, you wanted to have fun and you wanted Harry to loosen up some more, but you’ll accept his decision with another eye roll and trailing back over to your friends who are even more drunk than you.

“Bottoms up!” Lucy screams as she pours Clase Azul into your mouth, the amount so much you have to clasp your hand around her wrist to tear the bottle away.

“Ew,” You laugh, after swallowing the sickening amount, leaving Clarissa to chuckle at your reaction. Eyeing Grace across the section, you gesture for you to come towards you.

Happily complying she joins between the three as lights flash across your glistening bodies. The white and blue bottle gets exchanged between your friends, all taking shots before placing it on the table. As the neon strobes continue to flash and confetti fills the air, the DJ yells into the mic something inaudible until the song he puts on has the crowd cheering.

“Ah! Catch me slidin’ in a Benz, I ain’t looking for no man,” Clarissa screams her body turning towards you as her hips begin to sway. You can’t help the laugh that leaves as Lucy turns and grins at you.

“Ain’t recruiting no new friends! Louie bag filled with bands!” Grace is next as she dances behind the blonde, her head swinging seductively as she moves to the beat.

The energy is so ecstatic between the group that you find yourself joining in. Hips swiveling into Clarissa’s as your hands find themselves venturing toward her neck, fingers carding through her hair as you match the rhythm of her. The comfort of her palms trails down your sides, teasingly tugging the bottom of your dress up as you grind against each other.

“Get it, Sexy! Get it, Sexy!” Lucy cheers along with the song, her body leaning over and tapping your thigh as you and Clarissa manage to grind yourself lower towards the floor.

Laughter leaves both of your mouths as you continue circling your hips against each other, your head knocks back against her shoulder as you let the alcohol consume every motion while the song continues to thunder in your ears.

From your dazed out state to blurry vision, the rough grip over your hand tangled in Clarissa’s hair rips itself away as you stumble over your feet, nearly falling, as you’re being pulled out the booth and down the stairs. The movements are so fast you barely even catch yourself tripping down the flight and across the floor.

“Ow, stop,” You whine, feeling the pain in your wrist increase as the sight of Harry’s curly hair tug you through the mountain of bodies.

The crowds of people brush past you in a rough breeze, elbows and drinks hitting your moving body as you continue to be pulled away from the rambunctious scene.

“Harry you’re hurting me!” Yelling over the music as you try to twist around in his hold, still that doesn’t halt his motions as he continues pushing through the crowd.

It’s when cold air hits your skin and fills your nose do you breathe in a sigh of relief. Your hand jerks out of his grip as you look at him completely furious. “What the fuck are you doing!”

Yet, Harry ignores you, his body struts down the sidewalk past people throwing up or walking around slouched over their friends. And, instead of watching him continue to move further down the path you immediately follow, heels clicking against the cement as chatter and car horns fill the street.

“Hello! Can you talk to me please,” Drunkenly calling out for him as you trail behind like a dog, his footsteps rushed and harsh as the familiar black truck comes into view.

“Get in. Now.” Every word is a bite of aggression but in your drunken state you barely pay any mind as he holds the door open and watches your sluggish body climb into the vehicle.

“What’s your problem?” You mumble, back fitting into the leather seat as you watch Harry peel his phone out of his pocket, still ignoring you.

His voice rings through the space only leaving you to direct your attention to look outside the parked vehicle, vision shifting in slow twists that has you groaning. Hand rises to your forehead in frustration that it feels as if the car is spinning even though it’s parked.

The jostle of the truck shifts as the door slams close, your head peels up to see Elio in his familiar place as the car roars awake. The vehicle immediately peeling off, leaving the street lights from outside to flutter in.

“Why are we leaving?” You’re back to slurring over your words as you turn towards Harry, confusion evident in your expression while he looks cold as ever.

“The hell was that?” He hisses, eyes burning holes in your appearance but you can’t even tell from the alcohol shifting your vision, which leaves you giggling at his response.

“What was what?” Laughing faintly as your hands pull down the end of your dress.

“You’re a mess.” Harry scoffs, head shaking as he turns to look out the window.

Even drunk those words struck a cord within you, brows pushing together as you sit up in your chair and cock your head to the side.

“No, I’m not, don’t say that!” Your voice raising as your jaw tenses, the alcohol in your system fueling anger as you look at him distraught.

“Don’t say that? Look at you! Dancing and touching your friends like that, are you serious?!” Harry’s voice is booming over yours but in your state you don’t even care, you let your tone rise higher. The both of you look at each other livid.

“I’m having fun Harry, I’m at the club,” You respond, hands tearing away from your dress and crossing over themselves amongst your chest.

“It shows you have no class! No morals!” He snaps, nose flaring and hand slamming against the window of the truck.

“No class? No morals? Do I need to remind you where we met! Fuck you! You’re so insecure!” You’re shouting, chest rising heavily as your face screws up.

The laugh that leaves Harry is menacing, with his head shaking in disbelief, a cheery smile tugging across his lips. “Insecure?”

“Yes, insecure and jealous! What’s so wrong with me dancing with my friends!” You wouldn’t be surprised if your voices were heard outside of the car, and you actually feel bad for Elio having to hear the exchange of words. “Fuck! You’re making me so mad!”

“How do you think I feel?”

“You’re the one who started this!”

As the usual sight of Harry’s building fixes your version you’re immediately sitting up and tugging your dress down. The truck comes to a halt; you don’t wait for Elio to help you out as you peel your door open and begin making your way towards the entrance. Your ears burn with anger as your nose scrunches up, heels smacking against tiles as you press the elevator button erratically.

“Stop acting like a child,” Harry hisses once meeting your body, his key pressing into the sensor to allow access to the elevator for his penthouse.

“Fuck you,” You utter, eyes still staring ahead as your step into the machine.

Harry waves off Elio, his body retreating next to yours as you both stand in complete silence. Your heart thumps loudly in your chest as your head shakes in pure frustration.

The chime of the elevator dings and your body immediately rushes through the open space of the living room, hair swishing against your neck as you practically speed walk through the room.

“Get over here!” Harry demands, voice rough and loud but you don’t listen, you keep your pace and venture up the stairs.

“Leave me alone!” You call back, his heavy footsteps sounding behind you as you walk down the hall.

“You’re not going out with your friends again!” He shouts following your body as you enter the bedroom.

“Like I’m going to listen to you,” You scoff heading towards the closet until Harry is gripping your waist roughly and turning you towards him.

“You’re running thin with me. Watch your fuckin’ mouth.” Each word a whispered hiss as he looks at you darkly. His hair framing his forehead as his lips press together, jaw tensing and hold growing tighter.

“I can’t stand you. You’re so controlling.” Your only response, as your eyes watch his dilate before his touch is turning you around roughly and pushing you into the mattress abruptly.

“Controlling? I’ll show you controlling.”

Your moving arms are caught in his hold as he tugs them behind your back. His other hand reaches down and pulls your dress over your hips to reveal your backside. Body moving against his hold as your head turns around seeing him in your peripheral vision.

“Harry,” You mutter, his palm roaming over your backside before it’s landing a smack amongst your skin.

He only grunts in response, hands smoothing over your ass before placing another slap. The harsh feeling over your backside has you biting into the sheets with pain and pleasure coursing through, the anger that once filled your body subsides as you fight yourself from moaning against his touch.

“You’ve been such a bad girl lately? What’s gotten into you?” Harry states, another harsh smack reddening your skin as the grip holding your hands together tightens.

Teeth graze the material of the sheets, eyes rolling at the adrenaline coursing through at each slap as your head relaxes into the mattress. Your chest breathes in deeply, fingers curling in on each other as your thighs shake against the bed frame.

“What’s your colour?” Harry demands, another furious strike coursing through your body. Your eyes squeeze shut as you whimper into the sheets.

Instead of answering you just bury your head deeper into the bed, mouth releasing the duvet as you bite back moans dying to trail out.

“Don’t hold out on me baby,” Harry chuckles, so deep and sinister that your spine crawls at the sound. “I know you like this.”

Teasing voice so sexy that your toes clench against each other amongst the pad of your heels, breasts caving deeper into the blanket while your hips jerk up at the deafening sound cracking against your cheeks.

“Fuck,” You cry, teeth biting into your bottom lip as a rush of thrill courses through and has your pussy throbbing.

“What’s your colour?” He asks again, his hand sliding between your cheeks and feeling between your legs to touch your heat.

The feeling of him taunting you by rubbing over your clothes or bruising your skin red is an addicting one, it has you rustling against the sheets praying for more even though you should be fighting these feelings.

“G —Green,” You breathe into the sheets so quietly that it only beckons another rough slap to welcome itself across your skin.

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you love, speak up louder, what did you say?” Luring tone in his voice only has you groaning at his tantalizing ways.

Another smack meets your cheeks so harshly that your spine shoots up and heels chime against the floor. You’re sure your skin is bruised in different colour hues from the amount of strikes that he applies across your skin; and with the alcohol in your system still pumping through your veins, you can’t help the lengthy moan that slips out.

“Green,” You squeak, head shifting amongst the sheets as the feeling of the grip over your hands relaxes. His palm smooths over your backside once again before diving between and feeling over your covered folds.

“Tell me baby, why do you like making me upset?” Harry asks, fingertips dragging down your pussy with aggression that has you shuddering.

“I don’t,” You sigh, thighs quivering against the bed frame as you fall deeper into his touch.

“That’s what you think? Two days in a row you’ve been giving me problems. I don’t like that.” Fingers slipping between your panties to feel your pussy nearly soaking from the exchange of his actions.

“Harry,” You moan, eyes fluttering when you feel the pads of him grace your clit.

“Huh? What was that?” Hand tearing away from between your legs and roaming back up your scorching skin.

“S —Sir, I’m sorry sir,” Body shivering from his touch roaming up and down your exposed flesh.

“Still not good enough.” Harry’s voice deep and gruff as his hands fit under your tight dress, feeling over your heated skin before he’s tugging it over your head. “Come on darling, I know you can do better than that.”

“I —I’m sorry, Mr. Styles.” Words still slurring from the alcohol in your system to his mesmerizing aura.

“That’s my girl. Now, be a good doll and turn around for me.” The sound of your dress falling to the floor is heard as you turn around under his hold, eyes connecting on his dazzling ones that shine with the moonlight pouring through the window.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” Harry’s body looming over you as his hands dance up your sides, sliding amongst your clammy skin and feeling over your erect nipples. The touch is so slow and daring that you can’t help but whimper. “I hate when you upset me.”

His fingers grip your round flesh while his eyes skim over every curve and dip; your body flexes along with the shadows in the dark room, fingers feeling against the sheets below as you don’t dare break contact, not with the way he’s looking as if he wants to devour you.

“That’s why right now, you’re my toy. My little toy that’s been so nasty and filthy lately.” Hands drawing back down your sides, sinking past your hips and towards your pussy once again. “So dirty dancing like that on your friends.”

Your teeth bite into your bottom lip, thighs spreading wider accepting his touch while your head buries itself deeper into the mattress. His words only fuel the slick coursing through your pussy.

“You want to be a slut… so, I’ll treat you like one.” Fingers now slip into you only causing a moan to trail out. His lengthy digits thrust into you roughly that have your eyes open wider as he stares longingly at your reaction, smirk tugging at the ends of his lips.

“Play with you however I like… use you just the way I want.” Digits driving out just to plunge back in, the ends of his fingers curling deeply into your pussy that your mouth hangs open in surprise. Harry just started penetrating you and already your stomach was tickling with static.

“Teach you how to be my good little doll, hmm?” Harry continues, brow raising in question as his smile is still sinister from the expression crossing over your face.

As one hand is pleasing your throbbing pussy, the other lands one backhanded slap across your cheek completely surprising you but not enough that it doesn’t stop you from moaning softly and runting your hips against his motions.

“You’re pussy is mine to play with, do you understand?”

Your head bows urgently as you suck in a deep breath, lashes fluttering up at him as his tongue peeks out of his mouth to smooth across his bottom lip.

“Yes, Mr. Styles.”

Pearly white teeth shine at your doe expression continuing the rough thrusts of his fingers. Sweet nectar coating him with each curl that leaves you keening high in your throat.

“It’s mine to use and abuse,” Harry states, suited body covering over you as he examines every twitch in your face consumed with pleasure. “Your pussy belongs to me.”

Every comment is tingling your spine and has your lashes batting up at him so in love. Each word is degrading and brutal, words that should have you distraught but they don’t, they have another moan leaving your mouth as you accept the his urgent stroke of his fingers.

“Fuck, yes, Mr. Styles.” Your own hands curling into the sheets, thighs beginning to shake and head lolling back.

Harry surveys every inch of your skin that twitches and squirms from his hold over you. He admires watching your stomach quiver, and the way your pussy pulses in his palm has the erection in his pants press painfully against the zipper.

“Mhmm… I like how things are turning around now.” He smiles, digits leaving you to rub your slick all along your folds, spreading you wide as your thighs contract around him.

A whimper falls from your bitten lips as the warmth of Harry leaves. His hands go to undress himself, and as every piece of expensive clothing trails off and reveals the inked skin that you love so much, you can’t help but reach out and touch the tattoos roaming amongst his love handles.

“Gonna start being my good girl?” Harry demands, his body adjusting around your frame as he begins to tap himself along your folds.

The feeling has you shuddering, blinking up at him between your legs as you raise up on your elbows to get a better look. His cock rubbing against your clit, muscles tightening while he still stares as if wanting to ruin you.

“My personal fuck toy.” Letting himself slip between your walls and stretch you out heavenly. The sensation of him filling you up reveals a pleasant sigh as your thighs spread wider around his hips.

“Yes, Mr. Styles… you fuck me so good,” You whine, fingers trailing down his pelvis as he lets his hips glide in with ease.

Harry hums in acknowledgment, his hands finding themselves around your upper thighs, driving into your pussy tenderly letting you feel him expand your walls and sink right against your cervix before drawing back and repeating.

“Mhm, who makes you feel like this darling,” Head craning down as your vision shifts from between your legs to his face coming into view.

“You, only you.” With the quick response your other hand curls into the sheets as your body jerks against the mattress.

“That’s right… you and that dirty mouth of yours,” Breath fanning over your face as his grip along your skin tighten enough to leave bruises, the feeling has you gasping at the pain. “Gonna show me some respect.”

The pace of his thrusts increase leaving his hips to smack against yours. It causes your mouth to hang open and nails drag against his skin at the rapid speed now driving into you. The intense feeling of his cock spreading you wide has your mind a clutter of thoughts.

How can he stretch you out so heavenly yet look at you purely amused by his actions over you? How can he effortlessly pleasure every crevice of your pussy that craves him? How can he fuck the shit out of you yet still have you craving for more? He’s so addicting, so captivating, so intriguing, you’re in awe; you’re in love.

“I’m not one of those little boys you’re used to playing with. You will learn respect.” Eager hips diving into yours that your head falls into the sheets, eyes locking with the chandelier that shifts with every pound of his hips.

“Y —Yes, sir.” Knuckles going white as your spine curves towards his flexing stomach.

“Shut up,” Harry bellows, his hands leaving your thighs; one covering your mouth while the other wraps around your throat.

His harsh words don’t even bruise your feelings, it only has you moaning into his palm with tears beginning to prick your eyes. The blissful pleasure he was making you feel wasn’t even something you can explain.

“You’re such a fucking slut,” His hand releasing your throat to smack you, leaving your vision to trail away from the diamonds that float above and towards his face. Bottom lip between his teeth as his brows push together.

“And I’ll use you just like the one you are.”

Sweat trickles down every expanse of your limbs, bed sheets sticking and the frame of the bed smacking against the window. The tattering sound of it repeatedly hitting it fills the room as your legs hang in the air, shiny heels glistening in the moonlight as you continue to moan against his hand.

Harry could do anything and you would see no wrong, maybe it’s manipulative, maybe it’s controlling but it feels too good that you can’t resist; and why would you want to anyway, he’s the only one to ever make you feel things you never felt before. Like for example right now, the way your thighs begin to shake and spikes of pain course along your calves, only he can do that.

“You’re mine to use, mine to ruin.” His palm releasing from your mouth to land another slap across your cheek, it has you whimpering in response. “Understand me?”

Your lashes flutter as chest heaves drastically, mouth parting and pelvis quivering as you feel your climax barreling in.

“Y —Yes s —sir,” Stuttering as you look at Harry with complete devotion while he basks in it. “Sir.” You whisper, head bobbing with each rough assault to your pussy.

“What? You’re gonna come?” Harry grins, hands meeting your throat and squeezing tightly as he fucks you into the mattress.

“Please, sir, please, can I?” Voice hoarse as your lungs strain for air.

It’s the greedy smirk and shaking head that has your stomach clenching crazily, waist retreating against his furious ones as your fingers tug against the sheet.

“P —Please, Mr. Styles can—”

“—Shut up!”

Grip grows tighter as he continues to pound away. Every rock of his hips pierce your plush walls, and with each jerk of your body up the bed does it remind you that you’re nothing but his toy at the moment, nothing but his doll that he’ll use to his liking.

That’s why tears now flow down your temples, legs shaking against his hips as he toys with your body however he likes while you restrain yourself from releasing all over him.

“Want to be my good girl, then take it.” Face inches away as he watches the tears continue to stream down.

And you do, you suck in your abdomen as your quivering thighs try to close around his waist and accept every fatal attack. Teeth biting into your bottom lip as your throat wheezes for air.

“Play with you however I please,” He grunts, eyes searching your face that begs for oxygen that turns him on even more.

Harry’s hips continue to plunge inside your pussy and bruise your cervix; and with your tight walls twitching around him pleading for release it has his head sliding to the nape of your neck.

You feel him spill his seed into you, a beautiful moan slipping past his lips and along the sweaty skin of your neck as his grip relaxes.

Just the feeling of his come seeping into you has you moaning out, fingers tugging away from the sheets and drawing down his back as his hips don’t stop their torturing movements.

“Please sir, can I come, please,” Whimper tugging through your ruined throat as your lower half now begins to shake from the fight you put up.

“Yes, darling.” The one word you’ve been dying to hear has your stomach relax as you let go and release yourself all over his cock.

Creamy wave of arousal expelling over the thickness of him as his movements never slow. Wet kisses pepper themselves along your neck, his hands by your head feeling over your messy head of hair, while your body continues to twitch and contract around him.

Your grip around him relaxes, hips flexing against his own until he begins to pace himself, slowly rocking into your pussy that makes your chest settle.

“What’s your colour?” Harry asks, head rising and looking over your face. Dizzy expression overcoming your features that has him tugging his hand away from your locks and run over the heated skin.

“Green, sir,” Blinking up at him while swallowing heavily. The answer has Harry nodding, tongue peeking out of his mouth before he’s leaning back on his knees.

Thrusts come to a halt, his cock slipping out that has your mixtures spilling from your folds to drip along the sheets. It’s in the warm atmosphere that you both manage to catch your breaths, chest shallowly welcoming the air as sticky fingers roam up and down the expanse of sweaty skin.

“You’re so good to me baby,” Harry comments, his hands trailing up your leg to begin undoing the strap of your heels. When hearing them smack to the ground do you sigh in relief of having your feet free of the curved platform.

“Mhmm…” You mindlessly hum as you watch in complete awe of him undoing the next one.

“Always perfect for me.” His head running against your calf as he presses light kisses into the skin there. Your favorite words swelling your heart that it makes you get up on your elbows and gesture for him.

“Are we okay now?” You ask, letting your hands run across the skin of his chest.

“Yes baby… just no more surprises, I don’t know what I’ll do next time. Okay?”

“Okay.”

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awyeahitssam · 10 months ago

Text

“Expulso!”

The force of the magic slammed him through one wall and into another, and Harry could not breathe. It felt like the time Dudley sat on top of his chest, pressing all of the air from his lungs. He gasped and choked to no avail, the sensation of breathlessness more distressing than the stars dancing before his eyes and the ringing of his ears.

He was dying, dying, dying.

After a too-long moment Harry managed a shuddering inhale, getting a lungful of concrete dust for his troubles. He doubled over, coughing violently. His wand. He needed his wand.

His right arm was screaming in pain, and Harry squinted through hazy eyes to find a bone sticking out of it at a decidedly odd angle, having ripped through his shirt and robes. Harry had a half-hearted thought of relief that Lockhart wasn’t here to vanish all the bones, which was strange because he should be focusing on the fact that he still couldn’t breathe properly.

He blinked blearily and twitched his left hand with a desperation that had his wand—blessedly whole—slapping into it. Harry wasn’t used to casting with his off hand, but he was still able to twist it enough to cast a bubble-head charm.

The spell was silent, because he had no breath for words and no time to think that he couldn’t manage. He had to.

Harry gasped again, this time into a clean pocket of air, and the panic receded a little more at the hard-won oxygen. The pulsing of his temples began to ease on his next breath, but the world still looked too-bright and decidedly crooked.

“My Lord,” came a smooth, even voice, “shall I take his wand?”

Harry’s eyes focused slowly on the two figures in front of him as his fingers tightened almost compulsively around his wand. His.

“Let the child learn his lesson in full first,” said Lord Voldemort generously.

Harry swallowed around a dry mouth, glad to taste no blood. At least he hadn’t bitten his tongue or gotten any teeth knocked loose. He inhaled deeply again, revelling in his ability to do so, though the motion made him notice an ache in his sternum as well. Bruised ribs, maybe?

‘Lesson?’ Harry wondered blearily, a few beats too late.

Though perhaps he said it out loud, because Voldemort replied, “That you are no match for Lord Voldemort.”

Of course he wasn’t. What a stupid point to try and make. He was fifteen. He barely knew any magic at all. Voldemort had been given decades to learn, versus Harry’s five years. Any competent adult—and wasn’t that an oxymoron—could easily outmatch him, nevertheless a Dark Lord.

“Well,” Voldemort’s voice came dryly, “you have more sense than I expected, having been raised on Dumbledore’s knee.”

Harry let out a vague approximation of a laugh. He hadn’t known Voldemort had a sense of humour. Dumbledore couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as him. They’d spoken—what, six times since he was eleven? Dumbledore hadn’t so much as looked his way the entire year.

Not that Harry exactly wanted his attention. He was still angry with the Headmaster for that stupidity with the Triwizard Tournament, and his assault after returning from the Graveyard, and the resulting announcement made (on Harry’s behalf, as if he had any right to speak for him) that Voldemort was back. Really, Harry could have avoided a year of carving ‘I must not tell lies,’ into his own hand if it wasn’t for Dumbledore deciding to tell the world about Voldemort’s resurrection.

Or maybe not, if Umbridge was one of Voldemort’s and he’d told her to torture Harry for revealing his return. Who knew? That would certainly have been a neat, simple solution. The woman was prejudiced enough to be on par with Malfoy, and he was a Death Eater. But if being prejudiced was the only qualifier to being a part of Voldemort’s army, or movement, or whatever the hell it was, then everybody would get an invite. Dudders could be a Death Eater; make his parents proud.

“He has quite a mouth on him, My Lord.”

Wow, how observant. Snape would love this guy.

Was Harry concussed? That was weird. Normally if he was concussed he stayed very, very still and quiet until he was able to sleep and his magic saw him to rights. If he got talkative with a head injury, the Durlsey’s would’ve probably dropped him at an orphanage like they always threatened, or maybe just left him in the middle of nowhere in hopes that he’d drop dead.

“What nonsense is he blubbering about?” the voice said again, and the trace of discomfort was slight but obvious to a boy who had been forced to pick up on such subtleties to survive. Did he not like to hear about the fact that some kids did not get coddled?

Did Death Eaters coddle their kids? Like, as a whole? Draco Malfoy had definitely been coddled; he acted just like Dudley, if not as stupid. He’d definitely grown up with a bed and food and people that would say ‘yes’ to his whims. He just had that sense about him.

Not that Harry wished that the boy hadn’t grown up with that stuff. Harry wouldn’t be intentionally cruel enough to hope for that. Just, he didn’t have to rub it in people’s faces so much. Then again, the brat would have to have manners or something not to do that, and with each passing day Harry was becoming increasingly sure that no witch or wizard actually possessed any matter of manners at all. Everyone was so rude, all the time. Well actually Riddle hadn’t been rude at first, but then he sicced a basilisk on Harry, which was not only rude but also attempted murder.

Wait, where was he again? Oh. Halfway into the wall he had flown into after bursting through the first. Attempted murder again. That made sense.

The only question was, why was Voldemort so bad at actually murdering him? That had to be a little embarrassing. Oh wait, no, ‘lesson’. The man wanted to teach him something. Harry wondered if he wanted to be a good student for the Dark Lord, or if he’d rather just decline the opportunity. So far, he taught like a muggle.

“A muggle?”

Ouch. Harry’s scar hurt more than his arm; how did Voldemort do that? Harry needed to learn so he could hurt the man right back. Fairs fair.

A finger pressed cruelly into Harry’s brow, right over his scar. It hurt it hurt it hurt it hurtithurt!

“Just like a muggle,” Harry gasped out. Physical violence. Just like Vernon. Voldemort. Vernon. Maybe everyone in the world who had a V-name was the worst.

Cold fingers felt surprisingly nice against Harry’s overheated face. The pain of his scar ebbed abruptly, leaving a dizzying confusion in its wake. Harry might throw up sometime soon.

“Would you like non-physical violence, boy?” Voldemort asked.

Harry carded through the options. Isolation and containment. Starvation. Maybe mental violence, the kind that Snape preferred. Verbal violence of Petunia’s ilk seemed a bit below the Dark Lord, but then her words about how much of a worthless, unnatural freak Harry was did circle his head to this day, so there was no doubt that kind of thing was effective. Just, probably it would’ve been effective if Voldemort had started before he could remember like Petunia had.

“Do you have a non-violent option? Or is there a box I can check to be killed quickly? Is this a survey? I would rate your services as abysmal. Or wait. Uh. Troll. That’s it, right? Yeah. Bad… bad grade. Probably your first. You’ve failed pacifism. A truly bleak thing for a Dark Lord. You have my greatest sympathies. Surely this will hurt your future career options and they’ll have to lower your salary.”

Are revolutionaries paid? Or does Voldemort take his own payment? What would be a suitable payment for a Dark Lord? The bodies of his opposers? But then, all his opposers are magical, and didn’t Riddle have that Magic is Might thing? Or was that just something he said? The man had ordered the death of Cedric, who had been the most worthy of age wizard at Hogwarts according to the cup. Apparently Cedric’s completely attractive competency hadn’t mattered, because Voldemort hadn’t hesitated to kill one of the brightest of a generation when a stunner and memory charm could’ve worked just as well.

Then again, he’d wanted to kill a baby, once, and the death toll of the last war had officially been tallied at one-hundred and seven magicals, after Harry’s parents, so obviously he could care less if he was decimating their population, so long as he got to rule the world or whatever.

“Potter, do shut up.”

Huh? Had Harry been talking?

“Rambling,” the voice of the oddly not simpering sycophant chimed in helpfully.

Well. That was something. Normally Harry went very quiet when he was concussed and waited for his magic to—oh. His magic. Harry had magic. What had he done last summer, when Sirius was no longer an adequate threat? He could probably just…

Harry looked down to see his wand in his left hand. He set it down very gently, then stared blankly at said hand for a long, long moment. Then the air around it began to do that cute little vibrating thing that his magic would do when it hadn’t been let out for long enough, because of the stupid Dursley’s, and the stupid rules, (why the fuck weren’t students allowed to use magic at all over the summer? Didn’t it make them feel like they were going to burst apart with all the suppressed energy? It was near painful sometimes unless Harry found some way to use it, which invariably the Dursely’s gave him.)

A hand grasped over his wrist and held him at bay. “Do not do whatever you are considering, you stupid, reckless child—”

Harry was a child, and he had chosen to be reckless when he had chosen Gryffindor over Slytherin, so he let his wrist spark with electricity that was enough to get the touch away from him. Why did people always feel so entitled to touching him? He shivered in revulsion even as he placed his hand to his head and let his eyes fall shut.

His magic went to work, effective as always. This was only the second time it hadn’t waited until Harry was asleep. That was very nice of it.

“Thank you,” he told it quite seriously, in the middle of its work. It buzzed against his temple, a current of energy, and Harry quieted and let it continue.

When Harry re-opened his eyes, his vision was not blurry, his head not pounding, and the world not an unsteady bouquet of water colours with a diagonal slant. When he opened his eyes, he met the red gaze of the Dark Lord Voldemort, and swallowed.

“Oh. Just… lovely. Hi?”

The man behind the Dark Lord snorted. Harry spared him a glance—no features were visible beneath his cloak and mask.

Harry’s throat worked around a swallow. “Fancy seeing you here,” Harry offered, and then set his hand on his arms, because why not, and winced when his bone snapped back into place.

Ithurtsithurtsohshit.

Voldemort’s eyes were gleaming with an odd sort of hunger. “I wonder if you will be so eager to talk now, Harry Potter? Tell me… when was the last time you encountered me treating you politely?”

Voldemort didn’t know about the Chamber?

Harry swallowed. “Okay,” he said.

Voldemort stared. “Just like that.”

“It’s not like I’m opposed to you knowing. I thought you already knew, but apparently you and Tom Riddle weren’t as connected as he implied. Though, you know, if you want me to spill all, you should at least say please.”

Harry’s scar ached, but his arm didn’t any more. Unlike his ribs. “Pardon?”

“You would actually prefer to use Crucio than say please,” Harry noted. “That says mildly concerning things about you, you know. Common courtesy—Troll.”

“He’s stalling,” the Death Eater noted, when Voldemort moved as if for his wand.

“Of course I am,” Harry rebutted. “He’s clever; you should keep him around to control your terrible temper.”

Why was Harry doing this? Was he waiting for a rescue that would never come, or an opening that was twice as unlikely given the multitude of people involved.

The Death Eater laughed, and Harry saw a flash of green light. Heard his mothers scream.

“Oh,” he said, eyes going a bit wide. “There’s two of you.”

Both figures went unnaturally still. “Why would you say that?” The cloaked Voldemort asked.

Harry tilted his head. “Your laugh,” he said simply. “Your voice is different, but your laugh is the same. Also, you’re not nearly frightened enough of ‘Your Lord’’.”

The cloaked figure hummed, then lowered his hood. “Clever boy,” he said lightly, eyes just as intent and intense as Voldemort’s own, though they were dark rather than bright. His hair was curly, Harry noticed, longer than Tom had kept it when he was in school, though this man didn’t look very old at all. He still had his nose, though his cheekbones were sharper than they had been as a boy, and unlike Voldemort he had lips as well. Harry catalogued these differences with some interest. The evolution of Voldemort, he thought vaguely.

“Technically,” he adds, as he finishes taking the other Dark Lord in, “I’d be doing the both of you a favour by sharing the story of my Second Year.”

His implication was clear. He wanted two pleases.

“You’re positively suicidal, aren’t you?” the human Voldemort murmured. “Very well, Harry. Please tell me about the circumstances surrounding your encounter or encounters with Tom Riddle, as well as the encounters themselves.”

Harry watched him thoughtfully. “What are you going by?”

“Marvolo,” the cloaked man answered easily.

“Marvolo,” he repeated thoughtfully. “Your middle name. Tom wrote it in the air for me—rearranged the letters to spell,” he gestured to Voldemort with his newly healed arm. It didn’t so much as twinge. He was more than a little impressed with his magic.

“How did you take the revelation?” said Voldemort, something cruel in his voice.

Harry's lips quirked. "I told him he was nothing special," Harry admitted easily. "I told him Dumbledore was the greatest wizard in the world. Mostly, I just wanted him to shut up. He kept asking questions,” he allowed his gaze to drift over both of them, mouth speaking absently even as calculations flashed through his mind. How was he going to get out of this unscathed? There had to be something… some way…

“He was desperate to know about the night you lost your body,” he told Voldemort. “He thought I would have the answers, somehow. I told him it was my mum. Muggleborn,” he informed Marvolo, in case he didn’t know. Harry’s lips curled in amusement. “He didn’t like that very much. Went on and on about how alike we are. Then he decided it was luck and chance that had saved me, said I was nothing special, and called the basilisk.”

“Maybe I proved him wrong when I killed it and then shoved a basilisk fang into the diary.”

Rage bloomed in two sets of eyes, but it was Voldemort that hissed, “You what?”

“Well, I was dying too at the time,” he defended. “I’m nothing if not spiteful. If I died, I was going to take him with me.”

“Yet here you are,” Marvolo said with clear menace. “Apparently you did not get close enough to death.”

Harry watched him, unimpressed. “The diary wasn’t the only thing that got stabbed with a basilisk fang.”

“You lie,” hissed Voldemort, redrawing Harry’s gaze as if he’d ever truly lost it.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Who’s the liar, here? My parents died begging you for mercy?”

“Didn’t they? Your father begged for his wife's life, and yours. Your mother for yours alone.”

Harry’s lips pressed tight. “Really fucked yourself, didn’t you? You told my mum ‘very well’, when she begged to trade her life for mine. You agreed. You didn’t think she was powerful enough to form an unbreakable vow without the official bindings? You would think you would be smarter than pureblood rhetoric when you’re hardly pure yourself.”

“That's it?” Marvolo murmured, tilting his head thoughtfully. “You couldn’t tell me that?” He glanced at Voldemort, then straightened. “You didn’t know.”

Harry felt the silent chastisement in the words. ‘How is it that a child realised what you didn’t?’

#my writing #Voldemort #Horcrux #concussion #ficlet #Harry being Harry #what can you do

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elioslover · 1 year ago

Text

Afterparties on Tour (One Shot- Italrry x reader).

Premise: Love on Tour is over and Harry needs to tell you how he feels.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: / Other writing

[I'm a little late to the party but here's a little snippet of Love on Tour ending and Harry's vay-cay in Italy. Obviously Italrry! is my favourite, I have a whole fic about it lmao.]

🪐

The moon bounces across the gentle but choppy waves, coming to a crash against the scattered rocks before dissipating and retreating from the shore. It must be loud considering the celebrations behind you, a chorus of cheers and booming base.

Feet devoid of shoes, toes buried in the cool sand, nursing a drink and gazing out at the ocean, all that dancing has rendered you an unfit kid in gym class. It’s taken longer than you expected to even your exhales, and once it had settled, the feeling of your skin enveloped in the sand has you staying put. At least a moment longer.

It would help soothe your thoughts about that succubus dressed in only a pair of short-shorts and a loose-fitted button-up, dancing far too close, eyes far too bright, glimmering under the ultraviolet strobes.

He is so unaware of how unhinged he makes you feel, it seems like he only aims to pull you in further- so unaware, that he couldn’t begin to comprehend the concept of needing space and is already making his way over to your hunched figure.

You hear him long before you see him, his steps are heavy and uneven, you can just picture the way he fumbles about, a faint and fond smile soothing your frown.

Once he is only a foot away, he announces his presence,

“Oi! I’ve been lookin’ for ya.”

He comes to a halt, and as you tilt your head to acknowledge him, your face is levelled with his thigh, bare, unnecessarily thick, and begging to have teeth sunk into its fleshy skin.

Your brain is buzzing with profanities, ‘Jesus fuck’, ‘fuckin’ unfair.' 'fuck, fuck.' But you hold it together with perseverance, patting the empty spot in the sand beside you an invitation,

“Hi, Lovie. Have fun?”

He obliges with a loopy, and cheesy grin that obliterates your sense of composure. He is so clueless as he drops to the ground, legs splayed out in front of him, arms stretched out to keep balanced. His finger brushes against your thigh, and you are furious with how easily your skin flares with fireworks.

Harry takes a deep breath, craning his neck and tilting his face to fix his gaze on your own, his eyes sultry, pupils swollen with celebration. His smile only widens,

“Much better now.”

He has to know what he’s doing. Surely. You cannot risk looking into his eyes for even a moment, fearful it will end with your lips trailing along his neck, tongue lapping and nipping at the nape. And for obvious reasons, you cannot look at his mouth, instead diverting both your gaze and the topic,

“I like the hat.”

“I’ll give it back, I swear.” He doesn’t want to.

“Don’t. it looks better on you.” You want him to keep it forever.

There’s a hopeful look that flashes across not only his green gaze but the crinkles of the corners of his eyes, swelling dimpled cheeks, and dramatically raised brows.

You don’t like that look; it makes your insides melt into one big ball of overwhelming happiness and hopefulness. He could set you alight with one facial expression, just imagine what would happen if he did even more.

You cannot will yourself to find out, choosing to commend him instead,

“You’ve been dancing up a storm.”

“Mm. Wanted you to dance with me.” He nods, eyes lulling shut, his chin tilted to the stars.

“I did. For a good three or four songs.”

He seems the opposite of satisfied, bushy brows creasing into a furrow and crinkling his forehead,

“Want you to dance with me all night.”

“You’re ridiculous.” You take the risk of brushing your shoulder against his own.

“And you’re beautiful.” He instantly retorts, tainting your skin with blushing berries, thankful that the moon reflects on the ocean instead of your cheeks.

You’re even more thankful when Harry moves on without your help, inquisitively pointing at the cup still clutched in your palm,

“Whatcha drinkin’?”

“I think vodka and cranberry.” You ponder, glancing down and swirling the cup, liquid sloshing against the glass.

He motions for it, holding his hand out, and you are more than tempted to drop the drink and wrap your palm in his. But he waits with anticipation, and you can only oblige and pass him what he wants, settling for a swift moment of your fingers brushing against his own.

Tilting back, neck mercilessly on display, Harry takes an unintentionally large sip, swallowing with sudden unnerving panic. His mouth is an explosion of sugar sticking to his gums, sending electric charges straight to his brain,

“Christ that’s sweet!” He exclaims, eyes scrunching with distaste, his hand blinding stretching out to return the concoction to your custody.

“Just like me.”

“Just like you.” He mirrors. And he’s looking over at you now, eyelids swelled and intoxicated, lashes wisping, irises flickering in the moonlight. His expression slowly morphs into one of soft sorrow, and he can’t stop himself from speaking the silly truth, "'M gonna miss you, y’know.”

“You’ll still see me.” You attempt reassurance, but you’re almost certain Harry can hear the way your words stay trapped between your teeth, squeaking out with disappointment. You are disappointed if that even begins to cover it.

“Not every day though.” He whines but before your heart can skip a full beat, he panics and presses on, “You’re the best assistant.” This is partially true- you are the best assistant, but Harry will definitely miss you for much more than that.

You scoff softly, lacking the courage to take his words as anything other than platonic banter, a culmination of spending a prolonged period together- over two years to be precise.

In honesty, you hope Harry shares same ache as your already-churning stomach at the thought of spending the unforetold future apart. It's embarrassing, though, knowing you feel far too much for a boy whose only obligation is to be shared with the world.

“Oh, please. You’re just gonna miss being waited on hand and foot.”

“That too.” He teases, hardly able to hold any sternness in his words, more focused on proving his feelings of fearing the distance from you. He needs to make sure you know. Before it’s too damn late, “But I'm gonna miss you more.”

“I’m sure you’ll survive.” You try to rationalise and lighten the mood for both of your sakes.

“Hardly! My heart’s been breaking for days.” He flails his arms with a flair of dramaticism, even stomping his foot into the sand with extra emphasis. Dramatic display aside, Harry means every word, just the statement has his chest closing in.

“I think that’s all the Scotch talking.” You say in an attempt to stop your own chest from aching the same.

“I’m serious!” He defends, frustrated that you seem to have mastered the art in denseness… or diversion… which is worse?

It’s obvious to Harry that you’re gonna need a little more convincing, and he is happy to oblige, turning his torso to face you, eyes fixed on your nerve-ridden ones,

“Gonna miss your clumsiness, and your positivity,” he likes the way your face tilts down with shyness, lips pressing together bashfully, “and your sweet laugh.” He’s heard it once, he wants to hear it on a loop for all of eternity.

His truthfulness is almost believable, but even if it was, you aren’t sure what to do with the information. He’s just begging for you to smother him in kisses at this point, and the conviction that he is simply unaware of the effect his words have on you is encouraging you not to indulge. Instead, you are rerouting the conversation again,

“None of that has to do with me being your tour assistant.”

“Still.”

Contradictory to his tongues distaste, Harry wants to touch your hand again, even for just a second, so he reaches for the glass of reddish liquid, skin sizzling when your hold lingers, taking an extra gulp for good luck, a small droplet of cranberry slipping down the slope of his bottom lip.

The silence, though comfortable is deafening, and Harry needs to hear your velvety voice again,

“Say it.”

You turn yourself to accept his authoritative switch, eager to see where he plans on going with this. Ignoring the desperate temptation to rub your thumb across his peachy, puckered lips, absolving him of the merciless sweetness, you take back the drink and finish its contents with one swift, throat-swelling swallow. Eyes crinkling from the candy cruelty, you discard the glass and give him your all,

“Say what?”

“Say it!”

He persists, looking at you with the most darling of pouts, a glimmer of mischievous knowing- wanting you to confirm his wishes. And, who would you be to deny him such an obvious confession?

“I’m gonna miss you too, Harry.”

“How much?”

“You really are ridiculous!” Your eyes roll in sync with the huff that slips from between your teeth.

“And you’re beautiful.” He says like it's old news, “We’ve been over this, how much are you gonna miss me?”

Your stomach is in your head, your head is in your heart, and your heart is in Harry’s hands, unsuspectingly holding your entirety between the creases of his palms.

He cannot know. So, you gesture your thumb and pointer finger together in matrimony but leave the tiniest of spaces in between- the false space in which you hold your sorrows for his soon departure,

“This much.”

“So little?” He playfully pouts, and unbeknownst to you, his pupils are swelling with desperation for you to miss him as much as he, you.

“Hmm, maybe this much.” With little leeway, you expand your two fingers as far as they will stretch, allowing your longing to settle in the gap.

Harry's eyes light up with some sort-of satisfaction, his forehead raising, creases disappearing as his dimples swell from the force of his fiery smirk,

“Just as I suspected.”

“What’s that now?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s just that… I win.” He concludes, boyish grin only growing- if possible- and with as much grace as one could have after two Scotchs, Harry stretches his arms out, swerving to miss you, his muscles spanning like that of a proud swan, “Cause I’m gonna miss you thisss much.”

His body is starting to stiffen and then loses all rigidity, he can’t stop- well, even if he could, he wouldn’t- his arm from wrapping around your shoulder, tugging you down with him as his body starts to tilt back, threatening to sink into the sand.

“Harry!”

And your bodies are pressed to the trillions of pearly grains, giggles escaping through your parted lips. Your hair is surely sprinkled with sand, as must Harry’s, bodies awkwardly pressed together, his chest criminally close to your own.

“Y/n.” He mocks, confirming his cheeriness over pulling you into his grasp, your back balancing on his stretched-out arm.

The party plays on in the distance, the sea is still singing, and you can hear the soft and stable breaths of the prettiest boy on earth, his face tilted towards your own, freckles flickering under the silver sky. Harry is looking at you with an unreadable gaze- one that you have curiously noticed the past couple of months- it may be fondness... But whatever it is, it quickly dissipates into a woeful stare, and he glances away from your wondering gaze in favour of the sky.

It's quiet for a moment- theoretically only a minute, but it feels like an eternity. Your eyes are tracing the curves of his chiselled jaw, swooping cheekbones, softly kinked nose. He seems miles away, leaving you alone on the beach just as you feared the future would be.

But he is back on earth, and his eyes are back on yours right before your body threatens to rip itself apart. His brows are furrowed, and his chest hurts so carelessly that he wonders if you might feel it too,

“’M a little sad, y’know?”

“Would be weird if you weren’t.” You reassure, from a practical point, this is true. But from an in-love point, you need to ensure he understands you mirror his melancholy, “I am too.”

“Cause you’re gonna missss me?” Harry coos.

Harry wants to hear you say it in your own words, and the only way he knows how is to sugarcoat his words with a sweet and playful demeanour, scared of what might happen if it turns out that his feelings truly are one-sided. You wish he had said it seriously; you want to tell him that you’re being more than serious, that you will miss him, and that you’ll spend the rest of your life missing him, everything about him, everything he makes you feel,

“Have you always been this annoying?”

“I think you’re mistaking annoyance for attraction.” He tries a new tactic.

“Even so…” You concede.

“Even so…?”

“You’re both, alright. And you already know it.” Perhaps you’re giving away too much.

To Harry, not enough. He doesn’t know what he’s expecting to happen; did he really think you would confess your devout attraction for him? Did you even feel the same way? You give him the tiniest of hints, always so cautious and thoughtful. He knows this; he feels your fondness, feels the fiery connection… there has to be more, and how much longer can he wait? Threatened by the reality of the two of you going your separate ways, Harry is fighting this obstacle, fearful that this is his only and final opportunity, having to give you something more, some sort-of encouragement,

“Just like to hear you say it.”

What are you supposed to say to that? It has to be obvious that you feel so much more for him than mere attraction. Stumbling on words, a blushing mess, tripping over your own toes whenever he expressed his endearment or wonderment.

It was certainly easier to chalk his affection up to close proximities, homesickness, and maybe even pining over another woman. Theoretically, Harry had more on his mind than spending his time seeking out your affection.

Your lips are sealed, unwilling to separate and spill your secrets- the only thing stopping you from saying every little thing you love about him.

But Harry is watching and waiting, carefully checking out the way your forehead furrows, eyes darting with some deep thoughts that he just wishes you would share with him. He’s seen this look before- sometimes showing up during difficult days on tour when you were challenged with a particularly gruelling or complicated task, and on occasion, Harry had noticed this conflict in your eyes during the duet of late-night conversations.

He knows you’re stumped for words. He knows you don’t plan on speaking up. He needs to know what you’re thinking about, his face leaning forward, trying to close some of the merciless gap preventing him from being able to peck your cheek,

“Tell me a secret.”

“Yeah, right.” You can tell this is a trap.

You’d be a fool not to know what he was trying; this was his last resort in deciphering your hidden agenda, and the last thing you need is the humiliation of finding out that this little thing going on between you two would remain just that; a thing of the past.

“Tell me, and I’ll tell you one in return.”

He insists with such sweet innocence that could surely coax you into doing whatever he wanted,

“Okay.” You’ll go with the thing that’s been torturing you for weeks now, “I think you should grow out your moustache.”

“Done.” He answers so quickly, with such authority that your heart is doing somersaults. Before you can overthink his hastiness, he continues, “Tell me another.”

“Hey, that’s not how this goes.”

“I make the rules. Tell meeee.” He’s a needy little one and he has you trapped, nowhere to go but nowhere you would rather be.

What’s the point of keeping anything from him when it’s clear his persistence will only be soothed by your obligation?

Harry is as Harry as ever, so welcoming and understanding before even hearing what you have to say. As far as you’re concerned, he’s been seeking you out for a reason, wanting to make sure that this ending isn’t eating away at you.

It is eating away at you, though. You both know without verbalising it. If it remains unaddressed it may very well result in severing the ties you so tenderly share,

“I’m nervous about going home.”

“Had a feeling.” He needs you to know that he knows. “‘M sorry, darling. Promise we’ll see each other, okay?”

“Pinky swear.” Your eyes are like a puppy dog.

“I’ll come over, and we can watch Normal People and… pretend we are.” Harry wants that more than anything.

“I’d like that… a lot.” Your eyes lull with the promise of his loving presence, “I’ll make you a warm cuppa.”

“You’ll have hot chocolate.” He notes proudly.

“And I’ll let you use my fluffy blanket.” You do the same.

“Ugh. I love you.”

He whines dramatically, eyes rolling back, deliciously biteable lips parted and glossy. He really does though- love you. You loathe the flippancy with which he uses these words, substituting playfulness for the failure of his reciprocating your feelings,

“It’s hard not to.”

“That cranberry’s giving you a big head, huh?” He nudges himself against you.

“Don’t be mean.” Also nudging against him in an attempt to reprimand his cheekiness.

“I could never be mean to you.” He pouts cutely, hoping you can tell that he certainly means it.

He’s close- too close- churning your common sense into a spiral of neediness to nearer his face, scatter kisses wherever his skin forfeits. Shuffling back slightly, you miss the way his brows twitch with misunderstanding, and you misdirect the conversation once more,

“Did you see the video I sent you?”

“That puppy was so cute I could have cried.” His features turn to mushy lovability.

“Don’t cry, you’re too pretty.” You tease.

“Too late.” He tries to add a convincing pout.

“Such a crybaby.” A cute, fuckable little sulk. Your diversion has certainly worked, but now you long for the back-and-forth of will-they-wont-they, and you cannot resist letting the words come out, “So, what’s your secret?”

“I already told you.” He says it like it should be apparent.

“You did?” Had you missed something?

“Yep.”

Harry’s certainty is cast-iron, peering over at you with palpable perceptiveness. If his secret was that he planned on growing a moustache, then he had done a marvellous job at fishing you onto the hook. A simmer of frustration bubbles in your belly, shyness and foolishness teasing you for falling into his trap with such ease. Your tone reflects this, retreating to the sanctity of defensiveness,

“Your secret is that you’re a crybaby? We already knew that.”

“Not that.” He rolls his eyes.

“Alright, well, tell me again.”

“Ask me nicely.” He keeps you baited.

“Y’know what, I don’t even wanna know.” You tilt your nose to the sky, giving him the perfect sight of your neck craned, cheeks like apples, lips pouted and puckered.

“Yes, you do.” He informs.

“Nope.” Your lips pop at the P.

“It’s gonna eat away at you.” He sing-songs. He’s right.

“Glad to see you’re getting off on this.” Grumbling, you avert your gaze.

“Would rather get off with you.” He torts, muttering, sudden arousal slipping from his lips and settling anxiously in the already-small gap separating your bodies.

“Filthy boy.” You friskily reprimand.

“And you haven’t seen the half of it.” He promises.

“Is that your secret?” You press on curiously, “Not a surprise. I’ve seen your ‘fuck me’ eyes before.”

“When I was looking at you?”

Harry knocks the breath out of you, not even out of you- it’s trapped if your throat, body stilling like a statue, tied and bound by the predicament he seemed to so blatantly provide,

“Not me in particular…”

“Apparently I have two secrets then.” He muses.

“Just tell me!” You are clearly too focused on secret number one to notice that he just revealed secret number two.

“Hmm… Maybe.” Since you seem so clueless, Harry thinks he should drag this on a little longer, becoming more-and-more discouraged by your blatant dismissal of his attempts to express his affection.

“Harry, I swear-”

“Alright, missy.” He can hold out no longer. “I love you.”

“I know that-”

“Love, love you.”

“Oh.” You finally let the realisation sink in, and it sinks in slowly whilst Harry patiently watches the way you process both his feelings and your own.

The fear of rejection humidifies the air around him, but the relief of having you hear him say it aloud is something he had not known he needed.

Your entirety is like electricity escaping a plug socket, shocking you with such passion that the only thing left to do is give in,

“Well, I guess I have another secret, too.”

“Tell me.” He need not know because you have said it in your own words. But, how nice would it be to drizzle your ‘I love you’ like honey across his aching heart.

You will; coat him in so much caramelised molasses that he will have no choice but to understand that you love him... Right after you make him play a round of his own proven-pointless little game,

“Hmm. Maybe.”

—

#harry styles x reader #elioslover #harry styles one shot #harry x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x you #harry styles x oc #itallry

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guardarecheluna · 10 months ago

Text

I know you’d never leave me behind, but i am lost this time.

Words: 5K

Warnings: Fluff, Angst (Arguments, miscommunication, anxiety.)

Summary: Harry has never been an anxious person before having his daughter. And bursting through the baby bubble, leaving the safety of home behind was more difficult than expected; way more difficult than expected.

“She’s just over a week old, and you’re insane if you think we’re taking her to see my family. She could get really sick, so tell me, what is it that you don’t understand?”

Harry’s harsh tone was resonating in Y/N’s system as she looked up at him from her place on the sofa. Harry was holding their newborn in his strong arms, her little head perfectly supported in the crook of his arm. And even with his frustration spilling out on Y/N, he was gently swinging side to side, to keep little Elida calm and happy. Y/N swallowed harshly and bit her tongue, not wanting to upset him further or wake up their sleepy baby.

Anne had been terrorising the new family with calls every day since the birth of Elida. She didn’t mean no harm, they knew, but she had been asking to come meet her grandbaby. However, Harry and Y/N were in agreement that they wanted the first week on their own, no visitors unless wanted, just to get settled into being a new family and spend time in the baby bubble. It had now been over a week, and without thinking much about it, Y/N had agreed to travel up to see Anne, from London, without talking to Harry first. She figured it would be fine, they had only discussed a week, Y/N had been feeling better and better since the birth, and Elida was getting used to her life out of the sac nicely. Y/N was also desperate to get out of the house at this point, to see another face, and show off the new family member. Y/N just didn’t expect hell to break loose when she mentioned it to Harry.

“I can’t believe you’re not thinking about Elida, she’s so little, and they’re going to be all over her with their germs. It’s our baby, they can wait for a few more weeks.” Harry continued on, Y/N have barely stuttered a word in response to his words. She had no idea that agreeing to come see Anne the next day would cause such a stir in him.

“Harry, settle down, please, let’s just talk.” Y/N tried carefully, with a gentle tone. She knew that Harry’s baby anxiety had been hitting him hard. Although they both expected to feel some anxiety around their new life as parents, Harry’s been off the charts in the past few days. He looked livid, dark circles under his eyes and some spit up on his ripped Pink Floyd t-shirt.

“No, I will not back down on this, because you obviously don’t understand.” He said, now pacing around between the sofa and their living room windows. That was the final straw for Y/N. She had been understanding, gentle, and comforting with him although she was also feeling all of these new feelings surrounding their baby, plus she had just given birth. She was tired, and she was sore. Y/N stood up with a blank expression, facing him. “I would think very carefully of how you speak to me, don’t act like I’m clueless. Talk to me about what you’re feeling instead of speaking in code. Cause I’m not buying it, I will not allow you to talk to me like that.” She said harshly, a wrinkle between her brows and eyes glazing over. Harry’s face softened for a moment, before hardening up again. “I’m going to have a shower, and you’re going to call your mother and tell her we’re not coming.” Y/N continued, walking towards the stairs, in direction of their bathroom.

She honestly couldn’t tell if she was sad or angry; if she was hurt or offended. But she got in the shower anyway, trying to think of anything, anything but Harry being that angry with her. She just wished that she knew what was going on in Harry’s head.

Harry could feel the anxiety rising in his chest. A nauseous, tight feeling climing up his throat. He knew he messed up the second he saw her eyes become teary. He wasn’t really angry, not at all, and especially not with Y/N. He needed her more than ever, and she, him. However, with all these new feelings, and trying to take care of Elida; constant nappy changes, tummy massages, lullabies and changing of clothes, - he felt himself slipping. All the anxiety he was feeling just came out as anger, and Y/N shouldn’t have to take the heat of it.

The thing is, he is constantly worried for Elida. Has she gotten enough milk? Is she comfortable? Too hot? Too cold? Is her tummy aching? Is she breathing alright?

Harry had spent most of Y/N’s pregnancy on family forums and reading parenting books, trying to learn anything and everything. At the end, it all got too overwhelming, hearing scary stories from other parents of what not to do, and in result, he could barely put Elida down in another room without his head spinning with anxiety.

It was hard. Harry had experienced his fair share of anxiety earlier in his life, but never like what he was feeling right now, having another little soul to love and protect.

Immediately when Y/N had left for her shower, it was like he snapped out of the haze, and all came crashing down. He really needed to talk to her before he completely fell apart.

Harry went after Y/N, up the stairs as he heard her turn the shower on. Elida was sleeping heavy in his arms and against his own will and father-instinct he gently put her down in her little bed-side crib on Y/N’s side of the bed. He brought the monitor next to her and took his phone out so he could keep an eye on her, and went after Y/N. He would be just 6 metres away from her, and keeping an eye on her constantly. It would be okay, he told himself as he put the phone monitor next to the sink and started to strip out of his clothing. Y/N barely glanced at him when he got in, not saying a word. The ball was in his court, he was the asshole this time around, she figured. “I’m sorry, pet, I shouldn’t have taken that tone with you.” Harry tried, as he came up behind her, placing his calloused, shaky hands on her hips. “No, you shouldn’t have.” She replied quietly. It wasn’t that she was trying to act pissed, it was just that she wanted him to take action. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, about how it’s been the past week, it’s been hard, and I know I haven’t made it easier for you.” Harry continued, gently leaning his forehead to the back of her head. That struck an icy pain through Y/N’s heart. He had made it so much better, and she let him know. “Hey,” Y/N said as she turned around in his embrace. “You have been making it easier for all of us, I know it’s a hard transition, I just…I just want to know what’s going on with you, because you haven’t been yourself lately and it’s worrying me. All I’m asking is that you tell me how you’re doing.” Y/N raised both her arms, and put her hands in Harry’s curls, massaging the back of his head under the hot stream of water. Harry let out a big sigh, trying to relax. “I’ve just, I’ve been so anxious, all the time. I’m worried about her all the time and it’s eating me alive. And you’re the best mama, I’m never worried about her when she’s with you, it’s not that at all, it’s just that I can’t seem to stop worrying. She’s so tiny, and it scares me how far I’d go to know that she’s okay.” He let out, not looking in her eyes, almost like he was ashamed of admitting it. “You know what that tells me?” Y/N then said, and now Harry’s eyes met hers, curious, like a child about what she was going to say next. He shook his head quietly, nudging her to go on. “That you’re the best daddy out there. It’s your job to worry about her, yes, but we can’t possibly do everything. She’s safe with you, she’s safe with us, and we will know what’s best for her. I just think you need to go easy on yourself, tell me how you’re feeling, and we’ll figure it out. We’re a team, and I’m not going anywhere.” Y/N said to him, slowly and with intent, to really make sure that her words got to him.

“Y-Yeah.” Harry replied. “I’m sorry, it’s just overwhelming. I know it’ll get better soon, but she’s just so little I don’t know how-“He interrupted himself, sobs crawling up his throat, his head landing on Y/N’s shoulder. He felt completely vulnerable and safe with her. And for a moment, he thought that he wouldn’t want to do this with another person on the planet.

A few hours later in the day, Y/N got some energy back in her system. The days felt all jumbled together, and the parents could barely tell day from night between the constant cycle of changing Elida, feeding her, naps and keeping her somewhat entertained in her awake window.

Y/N decided that she was going to do some baking, maybe some bread to bring to Anne’s the next day. Harry was laying flat on the couch, having some skin to skin with Elida as she was drooling on his chest, producing those sweet baby noises that Harry loved. He could look at Elida for days, just in awe of what him and the love of his life had created together. She was perfect. Harry could almost feel himself dose off on the sofa, to the soft sound of Y/N’s music coming from the kitchen. He was sure he was in heaven right now.

“Tesoro?” Y/N called to him from the kitchen with a gentle voice, snapping him out of his daydream. “Yes, m’love?” He replied, not letting his gaze drift from Elidas little face. “Do you think your mom would prefer focaccia or baguettes?” Harry’s blood turned cold at the reminder of them going to see his family. They hadn’t really talked about the fact if they were going or not, just why he was feeling the way that he was. The issue now is that he still didn’t want to go, his intuition still telling him that it was too soon. He knows he couldn’t turn to anger like he did last time, so he had to try and be more diplomatic, even though all he wanted was to hide Elida away for another month at least.

“Darling, like i said earlier, I’m not sure we should, can’t we just wait like another week? I feel like it’s all wrong exposing her to new people this early.” Harry said, craning his neck to see Y/N stood leaning against the doorpost to the kitchen. Her face unreadable, straight, as she calmly said, “Call your mom.” Before pushing of the doorframe and continuing her mission in the kitchen. Harry sighed, what was he even supposed to say his own mom whom he didn’t want to see right now? Harry got up from the sofa, stepping into their bedroom and putting the awake Elida on the bed in front of him, pulling his phone out to call his mother.

Let’s just say that Anne put some sense into him. He told her about how hard it had been, how the new parent anxiety was eating him alive, and she understood, of course she did. He should’ve called her earlier. They had come to a compromise that it was just going to be Anne and Gemma, no other friends or family, and that if the new parents didn’t feel comfortable yet, Gemma and Anne would have to be satisfied with just admiring new addition to the family from afar, not yet holding her. That felt okay for Harry, that meant that he and Y/N still had some control over the situation. Harry gulped, once again picking up Elida. “C’mere my little love.” He whispered happily to her, putting her in a sling on his chest. Wrapping her up safely, making sure to tie an extra knot so that she would stay put. Elida let out a big yawn as she settled against Harry’s warm, safe chest. Harry’s lips just about reaching her soft head if he leaned down slightly. Harry felt like a weight had been lifted from his chest after the conversation with Anne. Harry took a deep breath as he ascended the stairs down to their kitchen, hand spreading over Elidas small back to keep him grounded. Y/N turned around and looked at him with expectation in her eyes, a slight, gentle smile on her face. “I talked to mum, we came to a compromise, so…” Harry breathed out. “It’ll be okay, yeah? I’m sorry I’ve been stressing about everything; I feel like I’m going insane sometimes.” He continues. Y/N walked up to Harry, sandwiching Elida between them. Y/N leaned down to out a kiss on Elidas head, and then one on Harry’s lips. “You’re not insane. You’re a good father, I told you earlier. I’m convinced it’ll be okay. What did your mum say?” Y/N reassured him, taking his hand and pulling him over to their dining table to sit down.

Being parent to a newborn is never easy, and nobody has ever claimed it to be. Harry, however, was a natural. And it may have something to do with all those books and forums he consumed during Y/N’s pregnancy, but some things seemed to just come naturally to him, while Y/N sometimes stood on the sidelines, not sure what to do. Harry truly is her rock, and she is his.

They spoke that evening about the next day, dread and excitement filling them at the same time. The couple wanted to have some boundaries, even for family. It made them feel safe, and feeling safe and being careful put their minds at ease while trying to figure things out.

Harry’s eyes were focused on the road with an icy grip on the steering wheel. He was a safe driver before having Elida, but now he was extra safe, not making a single risky turn or change of lane as they made their way to Manchester. Y/N was in the back, strapped in the middle seat, so she could be next to Elida.

They had found out day 2 with Elida that she loved car rides. She would instantly calm down when they drove off from the hospital, despite being uncomfortable in her car seat. They figured it was the whooshing-sound of the wind against the car, and decided there and then to invest in a white noise machine for her.

Y/N looked at Harry through the mirror. He had that little worry-wrinkle between his eyebrows as he focused on the road. Sometimes he’d glance at the pair in the back and his gaze would soften. This time he made eye contact with Y/N. “Penny for your thoughts?” Y/N said to him, leaning forward, her cheek against his bicep as he leaned into her touch slightly. “I’m excited to show her off. But I’m nervous about mum and Gemma not respecting our boundaries.” Harry could feel her nod against his arm, placing a soft kiss where her cheek was as she leaned back in her seat. “I know it’s nervous, but you were really brave telling your mum yesterday about your worries, and I’m sure she’ll respect them, she’s a parent too, you know. And if they don’t remember, we’ll remind them. It’ll be alright.” She said calmly, looking at him though the mirror of the car. Harry hadn’t even thought about that before. His mum is his mum. She was also a new parent once, she’s gone through this exact thing, twice actually. Just the thought of that made Harry feel instantly calmer. “And how are you feeling, lover?” Harry bounced back. Y/N thought for a second, glancing over at Elida and then to Harry. “I’m so proud I could burst. We’ve made a perfect little girl, and I can’t wait to show her off. And I can’t wait to show off my more than capable baby-daddy.” She laughed and squeezed his bicep jokingly. Harry chuckled, nodded. “I’m so proud, too.”

Harry let out a sigh of relief as he parked in his mum’s driveway. They had made it there safe and sound, and with only one pitstop to get some air and a coffee. They had barely opened the door of the car as Anne came towards them on the driveway. “My loves, oh my goodness.” Her eyes were filled with happy tears, taking Y/N instantly in her arms and hugging her tight. “Darling! How are you, are you recovering well? You look stunning, Ah I can’t believe you’re here.” She blabbered as Y/N lightly laughed at her erratic behaviour. “I’m well, Anne, it’s been a lot, but Harry’s been taking care of me.” And at the mention of Harry’s name, Anne turned to him, and with wide stretched arms embraced her son. “Hi mum” Harry said quietly into her hair. Y/N knew he had missed her, he was such a mummy’s boy. “My son, who’s now a father of a little girl. I can’t believe it.” Anne continued, with Harry’s face in her hands, pinching his cheeks and putting his wild hair back in place.

You could tell that Harry was gleaming with pride, constantly between laughter and tears at the rush of emotions. He could barely imagine her reaction when she’d get a look at his daughter.

Harry could see Y/N on the other side of the car, just about to grab the car seat, as he rushed to her side. “Careful, lover, you’re not supposed to carry too heavy, I’ve got her.” He said in a quiet voice, a comforting hand on the small of Y/N’s back. Y/N nodded, instead grabbing the diaper bag from the trunk.

Anne rounded the car after them, looking for the little face buried in the blanket of the car seat. As soon as Anne caught a glimpse of Elida, she gasped. She had seen plenty of pictures, of course, and she’s seen her though facetime, but seeing her grandchild for the first time in front of her made the tears fall from her eyes. She put a hand over her heart. “Oh my goodness, she’s precious. She’s even smaller than I imagined!” Harry held the car seat in front of his mother with a puff of pride in his chest, the anxiety has since long left his body, and Anne seemed to keep her distance, as they’d wished. “Alright mum, let’s head inside, yeah? No crying in the streets.”

Harry was light on his feet as they stepped inside, it was always nice to be home, Anne’s house always warm and welcoming. Elida was starting to move and making unhappy little noises to alert her parents to her discomfort. Harry and Y/N looked at each other. “I’ll take her, H, she probably needs a good feeding as well, go sit down with your mum.” Y/N stepped forward to fish Elida out of her seat. She cooed at her little baby, body scrunching together as she picked her up, then stepped away for a moment to change Elida.

Gemma was supposed to arrive in a little while, so they had some time, just the three of them in the lounge. Harry and Y/N sat next to each other, as Elida was being fed. Anne was on a sofa opposite them. Harry and Y/N could tell Anne was bubbling to get talking, barely being able to keep her eyes off Elida as she fed from Y/N. They had been in constant contact since the birth, but Anne didn’t want to miss a thing; it was her first grandchild after all. Harry felt calm in this setting, with his little family just beside him. The time felt like thick jelly, comforting and warm. He could stay here for a long, long time. Conversation was flowing between new parent struggles, trying to fit in a meal or a nap wherever they could, to laughing about little outfits they wanted to put Elida in when she’s a little older. Elida was now napping in Y/N’s arms, belly full of milk, satisfied little sounds coming through her little mouth.

Then Gemma stormed in through the door. They could hear her throwing her clothes off in the entryway and almost jogging to reach them in the lounge. As Gemma caught sight of them her eyes filled with tears, her hands over her mouth. She hadn’t said a thing yet, as Harry stood up and walked over to her. “Hey Gem.” He said, trying to comfort her tears. “My little brother is a dad.” Was all she could get out, embracing him in a hard hug. Harry laughed, a faint blush on his cheeks. It was still so strange when they said it like that, it would take some getting used to.

Gemma moved past Harry to get to Y/N and Elida. Harry motioned for Y/N to transfer Elida to his arms, so that she could greet Gemma. And Gemma basically threw herself over Y/N. They had become close almost immediately when Harry and Y/N had started seeing each other, like they were lost sisters from another universe. “I’m so proud of you. Are you doing okay, is Harry helping at all? I’ll be sure to give him a whooping if he doesn’t, you just let me know.” Gemma said, still tearful about the fact that two of her favourite people just had a baby together. “Gem, don’t worry. It’s been a lot, I’m so tired I could pass out but I’m so happy, and Harry’s been an angel. But it’s good to know that you’ve got my back.” Y/N laughed brightly, rubbing Gemma’s shoulders in comfort, in hopes that the tears would stop.

Harry suddenly felt brave, he sat down directly next to his mother, putting his knees up so Elida could rest against them. “Come sit down, Gem.” Harry smiled to his sister. Gemma sat down next to her brother, and all three of them looked down at the sleeping baby in Harry’s lap. Admiring her little nose that looked just like Harry’s when he was a newborn, the light dusting of hair on the top of her head, and how her little chest moved quickly with her little breaths. “She’s so small.” Gemma said, almost whisper quiet, as to not alert the sleeping baby. “Yeah.” Harry replied mindlessly, still gazing at Elida. “C-can I touch her?” Gemma almost whispered. Harry looked at Y/N for a second, who was nodding at him. “Y-yeah, just wash your hands first, and no kisses on the face, please.” Harry answered. Anne and Gemma almost threw themselves off the sofa and sprinted to the nearest sink to wash their hands.

“Tesoro.” Y/N said, when Anne and Gemma had left the room. Harry looked up at her. He looked so good, she thought. Even with hair unkempt and tired bags under his eyes. His face was clean shaven and soft, for the sole reason of not upsetting Elidas sensitive babyskin. Damn, she thought, she knew he’d let the mustache grow out otherwise, and she loved it when he did that. “Do you feel alright?” Y/N continued. Harry just nodded, a smile spreading on his face. He felt better than he thought. This all felt like a dream.

Anne and Gemma came back and settled down, one on either side of Harry, as they gently reached out to stroke the baby’s soft head and grabbing her tiny, clenched hands. Y/N pulled out her phone, having to snap a few pictures of this special moment of their family. All three of them smiling and looking down at the sleepy baby. It was the start to something new, a new generation, filling all of their lives with happy laughter, endless diaper changes, tiny shoes and most importantly; love.

The room was thick with emotion, and Y/N looked at the family opposite her, almost not being able to keep her tears at bay, just seeing them together with Elida.

Gemma looked up at Y/N, and reaching her arm out for her in a quiet attempt to get her to join them on the sofa. Y/N rose from the opposite sofa, trailing over to them and sitting down next to Gemma. “She’s like a little doll, I can’t believe she’s here.” Gemma said, as if still in disbelief about the whole situation. “You have no idea how hard it’s been not to storm over to your house and see you, I’ve been worried.” She continued. Harry and Y/N shared a thankful look, knowing that in the midst of the chaos of being new parents, the last thing they wanted was a visitor. “We’ve been doing our best to settle in and enjoy the first week of just the three of us together. I just…I know you wanted to see her and us earlier but at the time it was just another stressor to all of this. It’s got nothing to do with you or mum, it’s just our decision, and we’re really thankful you respected our boundaries when we put them down. It’s a special time and we don’t want to miss a single thing, but she’ll be here for the rest of time so you’ll get to spend time with her until you’re sick of her, don’t worry.” Harry gently explained to his mother and sister. They just smiled to him, giving him a soft squeeze to assure him that they knew. “I know it’s a special time, darlings. I know that after I had you, Gemma, me and Des just wanted to be alone, but people kept dropping by and expecting us to take care of them too, on top of our new baby! It made everything a bit harder, even though I know they meant well.” Anne reminisced.

Y/N could physically see Harry’s shoulders loosen up and relax. She could tell his breathing wasn’t constantly in his throat as it had been the past few days at the mention of leaving their baby bubble. He looked relaxed, like he belonged.

Y/N remembered an evening Y/N and Harry had shared just in the beginning of her pregnancy, where they had felt high on serotonin and adrenaline just thinking about the tiny sprout in Y/N’s belly.

“It just feels like full circle in some way, having our own child. I know mum’s been harassing us about having one, but still I don’t think she’ll fully believe us when we tell her.” Harry said into the night. It was dark out, it had to have been hours since they had retreated to bed. Y/N was laying on Harry’s chest, her nose finding his pulse point, and leg thrown over his hip, close, as close as they could get without crawling inside each other’s skin. Y/N smiled at Harry’s words. “Imagine when we get to show them off for the first time, for our family, our friends. I just know it’s going to be perfect. I feel like that’s one of those situations I’ve been dreaming about ever since knowing I wanted a kid.” Y/N replied lightly. She could tell Harry’s heart was racing, she could hear it through his chest. It was quiet for a moment, Y/N could feel her eyes droop and getting heavier in the arms of her lover. Suddenly Harry spoke up. “What do you think of Rose? Elisabeth Rose?” Y/N’s eyes shot open, removing herself from his neck, looking at him with squinty eyes. “Veto. They’re not a character in pride and prejudice, Tesoro.” Harry chuckled. “I like Samuel. Or Logan, Esther, maybe Levi.” She suggested. “Mhm, I like them…but maybe we’ll have to do some more scouting though.” Harry sounded almost sarcastic, and a flat palm was thrown against his chest. “Ow!” Harry whisper shouted. “Be nice. I’m the pregnant one, I think I have a pretty big say in what name they’ll be getting.” Harry grabbed onto her, shifting them around in the bed so that his arms were completely encapsulating Y/N’s frame. “You’re right, you let me put a baby in you, yeah? And I seem to recall you asking for at least a few more after this one.” He said, placing wet kisses on Y/N’s face; on her cheeks, the side of her mouth, her jaw. “Hmm…” Y/N let out, melting into his hold and his soft kisses. “I love you; I love you for doing this for us, I love you.” Harry sincerely let out, lips grazing hers. “I love you.” Y/N whispered back, sleep catching up to her, safe and warm in her lover’s arms.

And as Harry sat there on the sofa, right beside Elida, Y/N, Gemma and Anne, thinking about all that was, and all that has become, he came to realize that this was his reality. His own little child with the person he loved more than anything on this earth. A whole family circle that showed support, love and respect through thick and thin. Harry had never been more thankful for his life, and the thought of this being his forever made him giddy to get started living the rest of their life. Yeah, he would manage just fine – as long as he had them.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #dad!harry #harry styles masterlist #dadrry #harry styles dad #harry styles angst #harry styles fic

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grapejuicestyless · 1 year ago

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What A Waste

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: You and Harry swore that you would one day marry each other if you were to grow up and not already have a lover. Yet, when the time comes and the two of you are wed, Harry cannot let himself enjoy it.

ANGST

I’m standing at the alter, hands clasped together and eyes looking towards the door at the end of the aisle. Yet my hands do not shake, and my cheeks dk not ache with the pain only a genuine smile can cause. My heart does not pound out of my chest because I am not in love. The girl coming down the aisle is nothing more but a pawn in the grand scheme of things.

Maybe once, I would’ve held those feelings towards her, but our blood has since ran cold. Any fond memories tainted by our final goodbye.

She wasn’t very interesting to look at. Maybe, at least if my heart couldn’t love her, I could have something nice to look at. Something delicate, pretty. But her lips were pouty and her eyes held clouds over them. There was nothing attractive about the solemn face that hid her beauty.

When her hands hold mine, and her face is just inches from my own, I find it within myself to recite the vows I’d written for her. Carefully constructed to sound like a true loving husband, but with no true emotion that not even she, in her most oblivious state would ever have accounted for.

When she read hers, I saw her hands shaking. Her lip trembling and the furrow in her brow as she stumbled on her words. How embarrassing, how nervous she was. Acting like it was all real. Finding a way to make theater into reality.

How softly, she told me she would. Love me forever, take care of me and support me from the sidelines. Even softer, she mumbled about how even when she was riddled with arthritis, sick and tired, she would still twirl my hair the way I lived when we were children. When I kissed her, I felt nothing. When I pulled away, her smile could have fooled me. How genuinely happy she looked. But I remember the way she left me, and I remember how it could never truly be real. And I remember why I hate her, how I could never love her. Not even a little bit, not even at all.

…………………………………………………………………………………

“H?” She calls me by the nickname she gave to me when we were younger. I don’t realize that even now, twenty years later her mind had still clung to it as if it would be any importance to her anymore.

“Don’t call me that.” I’m bitter, I hate the way it sounds so sweet on her tongue. I hate the way her smile falls when I reprimand her, and most of all I hate the way I’m forever bound to her. With all the money in the world, nothing could separate us, no matter how hard I tried.

She rubs her arms, wearing her fluffy pink pajama pants and a shirt thats reads, “We think Harry had the X-Factor” so cracked, it almost doesn’t even read correctly anymore. The words die on her tongue, look at what I found? I see her enthusiasm melt away. When her eyes drift to the unmade bed and her feet start to move, I speak again.

“No.” Her confused face infuriates me. How could she not understand the justification of my cruelty.

“Your room is down the hall.” The one with the squeaky mattress and dusty floorboards. The one with photos of my old house, with the old garden and the old cats. It’s empty and the heat doesn’t work very well. But the cold from her heart wouldn’t mind it, truly.

I hate how her hair lingers on every surface. I hate how her perfume wafts into the bathroom while I shower. And now, more than all, I hate how she looks at me with rounded eyes glossed over almost too innocently.

But she is not an idiot. We both know it. Silence speaks volumes, I know she pieces together the puzzle as she walks away. The shirt hanging loosely off of her shoulder and her face hidden from my view. She never looks back. She doesn’t say goodnight.

…………………………………………………………………………………

“Do you think we’d be soulmates in another universe?” I ask, tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. The fresh England summer air hot and humid. I say it with dirt on my skin, grass stuck to my knees. I pull at the ribbons in her hair and watch how she smiles. We were only children then. Fourteen and convinced we were all grown up.

“Why not in this one?” She asked honestly, looking at me with so much truth in her eyes, I believed her. And the way her hand fit into mine, I could feel my heart pounding. And I knew then, she was the one for me. The way my body reacted, how quickly my heart pounded so violently, I thought it might burst from my chest. Too young to be kissing and too old to not think about it, we stare at each other in the wet grass in the backyard and wait for the final sunset to disappear into the horizon, my eyes looking into hers and her hand in my hair.

For a long while, I believed what she did. We were soulmates, we were bound together. Always by my side, always encouraging me. She makes shirts for my family while I start my career. She helps me rehearse my songs and her voice makes me believe that it should be her on stage, not me.

When the band is formed, and One Directions fate is sealed into greatness, I spend the last summer of normalcy singing in the fields and holding her hand like real good friends would. Her hand in my hair again, twirling it between her finger and her thumb. I want to kiss her, but the smile on her face makes me too nervous to. I think she has the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen. I think she is the prettiest girl I’ll ever see.

“When we are twenty eight and not married yet, will you marry me?” She asks me in the last week of that August. It confuses me, it’s such a random age. It’s so young. But the idea of getting to be with her forever makes my cheeks flush.

“Why twenty eight? Why not forty?” She laughs, says something on how I’ll find it silly. For a girl with as much potential as her to wish for something so silly.

“I want to have a warm house with a soft bed. A dog and two cats and children. I want two boys and a girl. I want a white fence to keep them in from the street and little family trips where we can all laugh and be happy. And with all of that, I hope I am a writer still. I hope I have critically acclaimed novels and a Nobel Peace Prize.” And I don’t think her dreams are stupid. And even though her dreams are so hard to make real, the way she dreams about it out loud makes me believe it will happen to her.

When we leave the grassy field that night, I have no idea it will be the last I’ll see of her for a while. All I know is in the morning my mother has a solemn look on her face and a letter in her hand. When she sits me down to read it, all I hear beyond the violent ringing is my mother telling me she is gone. She left, only leaving behind her empty promises and a tainted memory of what I once believed to be something so pure and precious.

I don’t see the letter. Maybe if I had, I would have known it was in her father’s handwriting. And my dear Y/n hadn’t left me because the beating of her heart lost its rhythm in me, but because she was forced away into a house that would never be her home.

…………………………………………………………………………………

“God, you are a self-righteous prick.” She huffs, quickly untying the apron from her waist, letting the blue and yellow fabric fold over her hips and be discarded on the shiny tile floors. Not yet scuffed from the lack of dancing. Never truly loved. But I wouldn’t know what the difference was. I stopped learning how to love when love walked out on me.

“And you must be a victim!” She sticks out her tongue and groans, rolling her eyes and walking down the hall. The lights are dim, candles burning. It’s her own touch. She claimed she hated the big lights. The smaller ones made it much more homely. I didn’t care enough to fight her then, but as I stumble around I wish I had.

“I gave you everything! I gave you a roof to live under. All the money on the goddamn earth and all the glory! And yet you are ungrateful!” I spit at her with venom I don’t even know I possess.

“Oh my god, you don’t even know me!” She turns, and her eyes are crazy, hair wild. “My own husband doesn’t even know me!” She says it like it hurts her.

“Don’t call me that.” I tell her firmly. I try not to look at the rock on her finger, how it taunts me.

“What does it embarrass you? I hope it does. I hope all of your friends tease and taunt you for marrying the girl you never wanted, but had to have!” She laughs then, stepping closer to me, her finger in my chest.

“I will not let a loveless marriage strip me of my heart and my soul. You can hate me, but you should know better than to think you would have any power to strip me of my humanity.” She said it with such power, her voice shook with the same fierceness she felt in her bones. And yet, her anger didn’t lead me astray. For the first time in our loveless marriage, I felt a twinge of guilt for the innocent girl who I let bleed so gruesomely on the floor of our own home.

“Believe it or not, I am not the cruel witch you make me out to be. I am a woman, the same woman who loved you all those years ago. I still dream of having children and cats and a dog. A damn white picket fence! But, what a waste! Our agreement! If it could have at least given me that, or god forbid it had brought us together! I am still the same woman who loved you, and it is clear to me you are not the same man. You are bitter and I pity you because you must be so unhappy to feel the need to be that way.”

“And what else? Do you still dream of a medal in your honor for your writing? Or has that woman finally grown up to smell the roses and see that the world isn’t always built just for her.” I should’ve backed down, the moment she showed vulnerability, but for some reason I could not shut my mouth. I needed the last word.

“I outgrew those dreams the second I married you.” If my heart wasn’t shattered completely then, it had been now. And why? Over some words a girl I claimed to hate had to share?

“What a shame too. A book full of stories of us destined to the fire on our wedding night. And even if I were to write again, who would read about how you broke my heart? And how I continue to let you stomp it out until there is nothing but the dust that remains.” When she leaves, her dress sways behind her. She’s wearing my sweatshirt and she has the same white ribbons in her hair she had all those years ago. She never really did lie to me, did she.

She was only a girl. Ribbons tied into her hair and a white dress with lace so frilly, it resembled her wedding dress. A dress I never appreciated. I wondered if I looked into the old box of photos of the day we were destined for failure, if I would find any photos of her in all her innocence. Or, if that same smile she greeted me with before she knew me would be tainted with the same hate I bred inside of her through my own negligence.

I regret every feeling I’d ever felt towards her. How I called her plain, uninteresting, unlikable. The realization of this guilt hits so hard, it is undeniable. I feel this way because I have succeeded. I have crushed the heart of a girl who continued to love me through my greed. And I know I have succeeded through the look in her eyes and the frown lines by her lips. The lines that once represented deep smiles gone in an instant.

She only solidifies what I know when I see her suitcase by the door. Practically empty, nothing in this house is truly hers. She has gone from one loveless house to another, not yet finding her home. Not yet living her dream.

“You don’t need to divorce me, but I can’t stay. Not now. Not when I still love you. I can’t come back until every piece of you is gone. Maybe then, your insults won’t hurt so much, and we could get along.” She smiles softly, but it’s so fake it hurts my heart.

I don’t stop her, but I wish I had. This house isn’t a home without her. If I could change it, I would. I still loved her, and thats what makes it all sting so much more. The tormenting, the pain and the tears. All a result of two soulmates bound to be together, yet one of them refused to let it happen.

I hope she’ll come back soon. Sooner than last time. And I hope her heart still yearns for me. I’ll propose to her for real this time, not just under circumstance. And when she walks down the aisle, I’ll shake just as badly as she did the first time. And we can laugh about our experience in our first try at rekindling our flame, and we can finally have a house with a fence and two boys and a girl, a dog and two cats. And she can write about how wonderful her life is and win every award there is to win. And I will stand beside her like a good husband because I love her.

I will spend each hour she is gone wishing for her to come back. For the ache to ease itself. And what a waste. If only I could write a good song about it without ranting and going off into small tangents. If only I could’ve done it right. If only it could have brought us together.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #yn x harrystyles #fine line harry styles #hslot23 #harry styles #harry's house album

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johnnystorms · 10 months ago

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When Peter was seven, Mrs Kanowski wrote in his report card that he always has something to say. Uncle Ben had found it quite funny. Aunt May had elbowed him in the side and murmured something about it not being a compliment, a word Peter didn’t quite grasp until a year later, when Gwen Stacy socked him in the shoulder then said, “I like your socks.” (They were covered in crossed swords and skulls wearing pirate hats, much to Aunt May’s dismay. Harry thought they were cool, though, and so did Peter, kind of, and now so did Gwen. So there.) “Thanks,” Peter had said, and that had been that. Not his first friend, but one of them.

He doesn’t know why he thinks about that now.

They’re on the roof of the Baxter Building. The sun is setting, spilling red and pink and orange all over Johnny, over his golden hair, the planes of his face, the brightness of his grin. The grin in question: the remnants of laughter, left over from Peter telling him about the time Harry keyed his dad’s car in a fit of six-year-old pique and Peter had tried to take the blame, only for Norman to dismiss the attempt with a brisk you’d have chosen more sensible places to do it, which had made Johnny absolutely howl with laughter.

“Really, Pete,” he says, still grinning, “what kind of six year old gets told they’d commit vandalism sensibly?” He snorts, shaking his head, looking out over the city.

Mrs Kanowski was wrong, it seems. Peter is tongue-tied, watching Johnny’s eyes crinkle in the corners, the slope of his nose as he looks out over towards the Chrysler Building. It swells in him, the way Johnny looks right now, the way he feels, loose-limbed and relaxed and happy. Peter likes Johnny a lot of ways, but this is maybe his favourite, when it’s just the two of them, and Johnny has that smile that looks like it put the stars in the sky, instead of the one he flashes at people in corridors, at the press when they get in too close, at ex-girlfriends and maybe-boyfriends – everyone who wants a piece of him.

It’s a nice smile, don’t get him wrong. Peter is mostly immune to Johnny’s charms, but that one still makes his chest feel a little warmer. It’s just got nothing on Johnny when he’s like this, bright and open and beautiful.

“I wonder what you’d have been like if you’d known me back then,” Johnny says, still not looking at Peter. His voice has gone thoughtful, smile fading until all that’s left is a soft tilt to his lips. “What I’d have been like.” He’s quiet for a second, and then: “I’m a little jealous, you know.”

Peter can’t work the words out of his mouth. His tongue feels too thick. Still, there must be something questioning enough in his gaze when Johnny glances back at him that it gets conveyed, because Johnny blinks, then smiles ruefully.

“That they knew you back then – Harry and Gwen and even Mary Jane, though I know she was a little later. They all got to know you so early… It kinda feels like I was missing out.” The way he says kinda is like an inside joke, the type where you’re the only one in on it, where you’re laughing at yourself. Peter’s heart aches.

Johnny’s smile goes crooked as he looks back at Peter again. “You’re my first real friend, Peter. You know that, right?”

And, like, maybe. Maybe Peter knew that, logically, if he ever really thought about it, but he didn’t – he doesn’t – because Johnny is bright and handsome and funny, charming and charismatic and wildly popular even though he has enough personality defects to fill a dictionary. Everyone likes Johnny, even some of his exes, and the ones who don’t usually have a grudge to pick with his brother-in-law, or they think Johnny is just like any vapid, handsome, rich, famous type. And it’s not that he’s not, but he’s also so much more than that. Sometimes Johnny is so much that Peter doesn’t have words to contain it.

But that’s a lonely thing too.

So maybe Peter knew, on some level, that this is what he is to Johnny, this is the space he occupies. But he’s never really thought it consciously, never really framed it that way, and certainly never heard it out loud before.

He swallows. Hard.

Johnny just blinks again, then grins. It’s not that crooked one, small and quiet and delicate enough to make Peter wish he could fit it in his pocket. It’s a sudden blitz against the sky, against Peter’s fucking mental stability, because it is so gorgeous that it is utterly devastating. Peter is devastated and Johnny is beautiful. Status quo.

Mrs Kanowski was definitely wrong, Peter thinks, as he slides a little closer to Johnny, nestles up against him so that their thighs are pressed close and their shoulders are knocking together. Because when Johnny looks at him like that, he can’t think of a single thing to say.

#johnny storm #peter parker #spideytorch #vaguely high school au? written for the prompt ‘firsts’#not… that i can tell anymore why i wrote this for ‘firsts’ lmao #this isn’t new in that i wrote it for twt 1.5yrs ago #but i literally forgot abt it until searching smth on my twt just now #jane writes sometimes #meet me at the usual place #also sorry for the awol work has been Whew but i will be putting the avengers twilight one on ao3 later

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kamaluhkhan · 2 years ago

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if it's real, if it's sweet

pairing: shuri x fem!reader

summary: you and shuri are pretty much living in domestic bliss, until a double date leads to a revelation about your relationship. your reconciliation involves you fucking shuri like no other girl has before and giving shuri the best orgasm(s) of her life (and vice versa). let's just say....the two of you live happily ever after <3

warnings: fluff, angst (reader and shuri have an argument), and smut!! mostly sub!shuri, oral (reader and shuri receiving), spitting, squirting, strap-on, tribbing...enjoy :)

song inspo: "cherry" by FLETCHER and hayley kiyoko

a/n: hello! this fic is kind of a part 2 of my first fic i'm not wanting anything (but your loving, your body, and a little bit of your brain) but not much context is needed. there is a lot of plot and smut is mostly at the end. this is set between endgame and wakanda forever. i might do a part 3 that would be very angsty, so stay tuned. also if you're wondering my fancast for harry osborn it's jonathan daviss and for peter parker it's nico hiraga (sorry tom holland!)

"fuck, shuri," you moaned as her tongue touched your folds. "we don't have time for this...."

you had class in an hour and shuri had to get to work, but the combination of the hot water hitting your skin and shuri's tongue in your cunt was something you did not want to give up just yet - even if you didn't want to admit it.

"usana," shuri scolded, looking up at you innocently, as if she wasn't the one who decided to push you against the shower wall and get on her knees in front of you. "it was your idea to shower together this morning."

"well, sorry for wanting to save water," you breathed, your grip tightening on her curls. "the planet is dying."

shuri pulled away from you once more, lips shining with your slick. "well, i didn't realize you cared so much about the environment. if that's all this is...." she got up to her feet and turned off the water. "we better get going, pretty girl."

you whined at the loss of contact and clenched your thighs together at the nickname, something that did not go unnoticed by shuri. shuri ran her tongue across her bottom lip before leaning forward to kiss you, your back pushed against the cool tile and the taste of you faint on her tongue.

hearing your alarm go off reminded you that there were other responsibilities you each had to attend to. reluctantly, the two of you dried off and made your way to your (shared) bedroom. you put on a matching bright orange boyshort / bralette combo before slipping on some jeans and an orange cropped sweater, and moving on to your makeup.

as you got ready, you watched in the mirror as shuri looked in the closet for something to wear, currently only dressed in black briefs and a sports bra. once she picked out an outfit, her eyes caught yours in the mirror.

"what?" she asked, slipping on a white mesh top.

you smiled, swiping on some orange eyeshadow (shuri might have been the princess of wakanda, but you were the queen of coordination). even though shuri was moving in at the end of the month -- she needed to go tie up some loose ends in wakanda before coming to live in new york long term -- you loved how comfortably she already fit into your life here. you loved seeing her clothes in your closet, the lava lamp she spotted at a thrift store on the corner of the desk, the photobooth strip of the two of you at a surprise birthday party you'd thrown her last weekend (everyone had a great time and danced and drank until late....needless to say you and shuri showed up very hungover to pepper potts' baby shower the next morning). you loved how you could smell your papaya body wash on her skin. you loved waking up with her arm around your waist, how she mumbled in her sleep about calculations she needed to get done. you loved how she took the subway with you to class, how she visited you at work when you had a slow shift. the two of you had been together for a few years, but your lives had never been this intertwined.

"nothing," you finally responded, finishing with a layer of mango lip gloss on your lips. "don't forget we have that double date tonight."

shuri groaned. "do we have to?"

you didn't particularly want to have dinner with your roommate and his (somewhat) pretentious boyfriend either, but peter parker has been your best friend and partner in crime-fighting for years as well. you owed it to him to give harry osborn a chance.

"if harry's spending more time with pete, it means he'll be spending more time here, so it's probably best that we all get along," you reasoned. you walked over to where shuri was examining her outfit in the full length mirror and wrapped your arms around her waist. she leaned back into your chest, sighing. "please?" you trailed kisses down her neck for good measure.

"fine, i'll do it."

"amazing!" you planted one last kiss on the corner of her mouth before pulling away and gathering your things for class. "the dinner's at 7, but we should probably come back here to change into something nicer. maybe we can meet here and walk over together?"

shuri nodded just as another alarm went off from your phone. "how many alarms do you have?"

"too many, as necessary as they may be," you declared brightly, pressing the cancel button and kissing shuri one last time. you pulled away and she groaned, taking the opportunity to move your shirt slightly and leave bites on your exposed collarbone. you checked the time on your phone.

maybe you could spare a little more time.

the double date was at some fancy italian restaurant in the upper west side. you each ordered pasta dishes and harry ordered a bottle of red wine for the table. the wine came quickly, but given how busy the restaurant was, you anticipated your food would take longer. meanwhile, the conversation flowed naturally from awkward small talk about the weather, to current tv show obsessions (you and shuri were bingeing project runway), to work at oscorp (where you, peter, and harry were interns), and finally to college classes. that's how you found yourself ranting about the lecture in your molecular engineering class from that afternoon.

"i mean no offense to tony - loved the guy - but i know for a fact that my super smart sexy girlfriend cracked that technology years before he did," you declared. "so the fact that my professor -- this white woman, by the way -- uplifts stark tech as the beacon of the future is total bullshit."

"that is total bullshit," harry agreed. "colonizers gonna colonize, i guess."

shuri laughed, a sound you would never get tired of hearing. she had her right arm casually draped across the back of your chair as she held her glass in her left hand, taking occasional sips.

"i mean most of the avengers use nanotech now, right?" harry was directing his question at you, since to his knowledge you were the only avenger at the table, but peter seemed to have forgot that he had a secret identity.

"most of us, yeah," peter answered. you nudged his foot under the table. "ow!" he exclaimed, but once he looked at you, he realized his slip up. "most of them," he corrected, chuckling awkwardly and avoiding harry's gaze. "at least that's what i can gather from my stark internship."

it took a lot in you to not roll your eyes at the fact that peter was still using the 'stark internship' excuse, but harry seemed to buy it.

"anyways, y/n, finish your story," peter suggested.

"well, that's basically what i said in class," you explained.

"that your super smart sexy girlfriend cracked nanotechnology years before tony stark?" shuri wondered.

you shrugged. "pretty much. i also said something about colonizers, but i forget what exactly."

shuri grinned. "that's my girl," she leaned over to plant a kiss on your cheek.

a few waiters came over to bring plates full of pasta, and you all thanked them. your stomach grumbled at the delicious smell, a reminder that you had barely eating all day in between classes. you were so ready to dig in to some quality fettucine alfredo.

"you guys really are a power couple," harry pointed out, gesturing between you and shuri as you started to eat. "how long have you two been together?"

you swallowed a mouthful of pasta. "well, we met right after the avengers split up because of the sokovia accords," you started, clearing your throat. it certainly wasn't your favorite time of your life, but something good obviously did come from that time. if none of it happened, you might not have gotten together with shuri.

"steve dropped me off in wakanda -- i was freshly 18 and he was worried what would happen to me if i went back to new york. so, i stayed there for a while and that's how i met this one." you nudged shuri playfully with your elbow, and she moved a hand under the table to squeeze your upper thigh. "she showed me around, we worked in the lab together and we were friends for a while, of course, but our first non-platonic date was the night before i left wakanda. she brought be up to the top of mount bashenga, we shared a bottle of mango soju that t'challa brought back from korea and then we...." you trailed off, not wanting to necessarily go into the physical details of your first time together. "long story short, we've been girlfriends ever since."

"well, that wasn't our first official date, though," shuri said, taking a sip of her wine.

"oh?" you tilted your head, wondering if your memory was off. but, no, you were sure. it was the night before you left wakanda - it couldn't have been before and it couldn't have been later. your entire relationship had been long distance until recently.

"i visited you in the fall," shuri recounted. "you took me to magnolia bakery to get that banana pudding, we walked around central park, and then we slept together in your dorm while your roommate was at a frat party - that was when we became exclusive."

you chewed slowly, ingesting her words. "that was a few months after i left wakanda though." shuri nodded. "we were already together."

"yeah," shuri agreed. "but weren't exclusive."

"okay, you keep saying that word." at this point, you had completely forgotten your dinner and your double date. "what does that mean, though?"

"like, we were seeing other people," shuri stated casually. she was still eating her pasta, and you grabbed the fork out of her hand. "i wasn't finished with that."

"so you were sleeping with other people? while we were together?"

"well...yeah."

peter's mouth practically dropped to the floor, and harry almost choked on a piece of penne.

you, on the other hand, were silent, frozen. it shouldn't have been that big of a deal - maybe you would have agreed to do the whole friends with benefits thing - but you and shuri clearly hadn't been on the same page. you fell for her, hard and fast, but it didn't seem like she would say the same for you. and you were sure that you'd had the are we exclusive? conversation before you parted ways.

suddenly, your avengers buzzer (an addition made at the request of carol danvers - she swore by them) went off.

harry cleared his throat. "avengers business?"

"yeah," you replied, dropping shuri's fork back in her plate. you glanced at peter, who just shook his head slightly. he would have to sit this one out. "i have to go."

shuri started to call out your name, but you were already out the door.

when you got home later that night, shuri was still up, sitting in the living room with one lamp on. she hadn't changed from dinner, still wearing her patterned suit, but had unbuttoned the top even more. she looked way too good, and if you weren't currently frustrated at her, you would have suggested going to the bedroom right away.

"peter is sleeping at harry's."

"okay," you replied crisply.

you walked to your bedroom and removed your supersuit, looking for some comfortable clothes to wear. your entire body ached, your head throbbing.

"are we going to talk about it, or are you just going to shut me out?"

you groaned, way too exhausted after dealing with a flying green goblin terrorizing midtown. you didn't want to have to deal with this right now. searching through your drawers, you eventually found some sleep shorts and the i <3 wakanda t-shirt shuri had gotten you as a joke.

"i'm tired, shuri." you sat on the bed and started rubbing some lavender body butter on your arms and legs.

"no, you're angry," shuri countered, leaning against the doorframe and watching you go through your nightly ritual.

"can't i be both?" you got up, took off your bra, and slipped on your shorts. you turned to shuri just in time to watch her stare at your bare chest before you finally put on your t-shirt.

"look, you have nothing to be angry about. those first few months, we were keeping it casual, yeah? we were -- how do you americans call it -- friends with benefit."

the way she stated it as though she was explaining scientific theories, the way she was being so casual now like you were overreacting, sent a wave of frustration through your body.

"you can't be fucking serious right now!"

"i don't understand why this is such a big deal! it was years ago!"

you scoffed. "i thought that what we had was real from the start, okay? friends with benefits only works when there are no strings attached, and i remember us very clearly having strings attached. there's no way i would have - i don't know - been so vulnerable with you if i thought it was just sex."

"that's the friend part," shuri continued matter-of-factly. she finally walked into the room, removing her suit jacket and unbuttoning her shirt even more. before long, her top half was only covered by a black sports bra.

you scoffed. "if that's how you act with friends, then i seriously think you need to follow up with the rest of the girls you fucked at the time. how many were there, anyways?"

shuri hesitated.

"answer the question, shuri," you snapped.

"i like sex, you know that! you weren't there, so i had to find other girls to sleep with."

"yeah, i like sex, too! and normally i wouldn't judge you, but we had agreed--"

"we had not agreed ---"

"we had!

"can we agree to disagree? what's the big deal anyways?"

"well, the big deal is that while you were busy sleeping with other girls, i was in my dorm, waiting to spend all my international minutes on a call that would go to voicemail because - oh !- you were apparently busy sleeping with other girls!"

"i kept telling you to use the kimoyo beads i gave you," shuri mumbled.

"are serious right now?" you exclaimed. "i spent most of that semester waiting for you, thinking about you - and you probably couldn't have cared less! i was stressed and lonely and - yeah, i'll say it - horny, while i could have been out having fun too."

"that's not my fault," shuri scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "i doubt you missed that many opportunities."

"oh? how can you be so sure?"

"well, no one knew that you were an avenger then."

when you first started being an avenger, you were a kid. it wasn't until well after you were 18, after the accords and in a desperate plea to get steve and the others to return, that you revealed your identity to the world, press conference and all. which meant that shuri had a point: during your first semester at empire state university, no one knew that you were an avenger.

"so you're saying that girls would only fuck me if they thought i was a superhero?"

"i'm not saying that's the only reason, but it is a big one."

it took a second for the implication of her words to fully sink in. suddenly, the room felt smaller and you hated every reminder that you and shuri were building a life, here, together.

"is that why we got together in the first place? you wanted to fuck a superhero?"

shuri froze, as if she too just understood the turn your argument had taken.

"shuri. answer the fucking question. is that the reason we got together?" her silence made you claustrophobic, and, again, you were way too tired to deal with this. "i'm gonna sleep at mj's." you were about to grab your phone and keys before shuri stopped you.

"wait. baby, please wait," she pleaded. "i didn't mean -- just, let me explain, okay? please."

you looked at her, jaw tense and eyes searching yours, and you couldn't resist. you just had to hear her out. she sat on the edge of the bed, gesturing at you to join her, but you remained standing, arms crossed and waiting for an explanation.

"maybe....maybe i was intrigued by the fact you were an avenger. i thought you were so cool and badass and i wanted to know you, like really know you. and once i did, i couldn't help but fall for you. i wanted to be with you."

"yeah, you fucking other girls really reflects that."

"let me finish," shuri sighed. "when you went back to new york, i didn't think we'd last. i was scared that our time together in wakanda was just some short, passionate fling for you and you'd forget all about me. or, worse, you'd realize that you just want to be friends and i would be stuck alone, pining for you. sleeping with other people was just a protective measure, i guess."

while you were surprised by her confession, you didn't feel entirely satisfied. you did, however, finally sit on the bed next to her. "you didn't think to talk to me about any of this? to ask whether or not i was invested in our relationship?"

"i'm good with calculations, y/n, not people."

being this close to her, you couldn't help but stare at shuri: at the way her jaw looked sharper in the moonlight, her eyes darker, her lips slightly parted as she waited for you to say something.

"i guess it would have been nice to know how much you thought about me," you whispered.

shuri brings her hand up your thigh and under your shirt, stroking the skin underneath your breast with her thumb. you shuddered at the contact.

"i thought about you all the time. bast, i even called other girls by your name during sex. multiple times."

weirdly, you felt a little proud at that. "i guess i really made an impression on you," you hummed. "tell me: did any of those other girls fuck you better than me?" you asked, voice low.

shuri removed her hand from your body, shrugging. "maybe."

"shuri," you warned. "don't."

"or what?" she challenged, leaning forward, the ghost of a smirk on her lips. "are you gonna punish me? because if you want to have your way with me....i wouldn't stop you."

with that, you pushed her onto the bed. she let out a yelp when her back hit the mattress. once you were hovering over her, legs and arms on either side of her body, you did what you yearned to do as soon as you walked in earlier that night: you kissed her, passionately, deeply. you bit her lip as you pulled away.

"you really want that - for me to have my way with you?"

shuri whimpered. "yes."

"you might regret saying that, usana."

shuri loved it when you spoke xhosa, you knew that. she leaned up to capture your lips, but you had other plans.

you kissed down her jaw, her neck, her exposed chest and shoulders down to her stomach. after you fumbled with the button of her pants, shuri lifted her hips from the bed so that you could remove them. once the pants were thrown on the floor, you kissed her core through her briefs, feeling a wet spot against your lips.

quickly, you took off her briefs, being greeted by her glistening pussy. blowing onto her folds, you ran your tongue from her hole to her clit, loving how you already felt her slick coating your lips. shuri lifted her legs so they rested on your shoulders. with this angle, you gathered some of her slick and sunk two fingers into her heat.

"gods, i've barely touched you and you're already about to come," you teased, feeling her clench around your fingers. "are you going to come for me?" all you got in response was whine. with your other hand, you reached up to pinch the side of her hip. "answer me, princess."

shuri propped herself up on her elbows to look at you, just as you removed your mouth from her.

"yes!" she cried. you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel throbbing between your thighs, hearing how frantic her voice sounded - like she needed you and only you. "please, just do something."

at her request, you moved up the bed so that the two of you were face to face, one of your hands holding her chin while the other was still two fingers deep in her cunt.

with your thumb, you traced over her lips. "open." shuri obeyed you instantly, and you couldn't help but clench your thighs together - you had never seen her this desperate. you spat in her mouth, heart racing as you watched her swallow the combination of your saliva and her cum without question.

you continued fucking her with your fingers until she moaned, louder and louder as she reached her peak.

removing your fingers from her pussy, you locked eyes with her as you brought your glistening fingers to your mouth and sucked off her juices. then, you kissed the tattoo underneath her ear, whispering: "have i ever told you that you're the sweetest thing i've ever tasted?"

when shuri smiled, you couldn't help but think how gorgeous she was, how vulnerable she was underneath you, how she was yours. unfortunately, you also couldn't help but think that there was a time when you thought she was yours and yours alone, while there were other girls with her like this.

so, you decided then that you weren't quite done with her.

"you really want me to have my way with you?" you asked once more, just to be sure.

"yes. anything."

you kissed her again, this time rougher than the last. "where's that new strap you made?"

shuri gestured to the closet. you stripped down before retrieving the strap - bigger than any either of you had used on the other before - and adjusted it around your hips. when you turned back to the bed, shuri was completely naked, nipples perked against the cold air, thighs shining from her previous orgasm.

"turn around," you instructed. "on your knees."

again, shuri complied. you knelt behind her on the bed, grasping her hips. you looked down at her cunt, already dripping, and she gasped when she felt you spit onto her hole. without further ado, you thrusted forward.

you both moaned when you started to enter her. shuri invented a strap that allowed both the wearer and the receiver to feel pleasure; hell, you could even feel her walls clench around you, how deep you were inside her. technology was a beautiful thing.

"you okay, baby?" you asked once you were halfway inside her.

"yes," she breathed. she turned her head as much as she could towards you. "keep going."

once you were fully inside her, strap nestled in her warm cunt, your thighs met her ass. you slipped out slightly, only to thrust back in, over and over, until shuri was a moaning mess beneath you. her body started to shake and she almost collapsed onto her elbows, so you reached one hand to her neck and lifted her up so that your nipples brushed against her back.

"more," she moaned, reaching an arm back to help guide your hips forward, faster.

you kissed the back of her neck, trailing your hand down from her neck to pinch one of her nipples. you moved your other hand to her clit, rubbing the nub in tight circles and gathering as much slick as you could. you then took those same fingers and shoved them into her mouth, allowing her to taste her sweetness.

you almost came right then and there, watching how she truly let you have your way with her body. "i never knew you were such a slut," you taunted. you took your fingers out of her mouth so shuri could respond, instead grasping her neck once more, applying just the slightest pressure you knew drove her crazy.

"only for you," she groaned.

after a particularly hard thrust, shuri came, bursting all over the sheets. she collapsed forward on the bed, breathing hard.

"did you just...." the wet stains on the purple silk sheets were enough evidence. shuri just squirted.

shuri laughed, breathlessly. "fuck. i've never done that before."

you took off the strap and turned her over. her skin glistened with sweat and her curls were stuck to her forehead, but shuri would never not be beautiful.

"one more time for me, okay, pretty girl? i want to feel you against me," you whispered. "i want to watch you fall apart, knowing that i'm the one who makes you feel this good."

shuri nodded, allowing you to adjust your positions so that your cunts were touching. both of you were so worked up, you from watching shuri fall apart twice and shuri from, well, her two previous orgasms, that it didn't take long for you to feel her gush against you, and vice versa.

strings of cum connected you as you removed your body from hers. for a few seconds, you both lay on your backs, staring up at the ceiling and trying to catch your breath.

"i'm sorry," shuri finally said. she shifted her body to lay on her side, facing you. "i almost messed this up but --"

"it's fine," you said, turning your head towards her. "it was a misunderstanding."

"i just...." shuri sighs, voice trembling slightly. "i just want to assure you that i would never want to do anything to hurt you. what we have is more real that anything i ever had with any other girl. you were right, it has been like that from the start, even if i almost messed it up."

you used your thumb to wipe away a tear from shuri's cheek. "are you crying because i gave you the best orgasm of your life?"

despite being in tears, shuri laughed. "i'm crying because i love you."

"i love you too, shuri," you assured her, your finger tracing the tattoo on the side of her arm. "also we should probably take a shower before sleeping."

shuri hummed. "you and your showers." the two of you laughed, remembering this morning. "before that, i have something for you...." she got up and grabbed a paper bag on the floor, handing it to you.

one eyebrow raised, you opened the bag and pulled out a bottle of lychee soju. your expression softened. "it was lychee soju," you mused, looking between the bottle and shuri.

"see, i do remember!" shuri grinned. she slipped on her underwear and your sleep shirt before running to the kitchen to grab some mugs. shuri poured the drink into them and handed you one.

as you sipped the bittersweet liquid, you couldn't help but think: you and shuri. this was real.

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