#Harry styles x fem!oc

[daaydreamy]

strange sounds

summary: it’s hard being with a famous rockstar. 

warnings: coarse language, smut, orgy, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), anal sex, overstimulation

pairings: harry styles x fem!reader x m & f oc’s

•••

“Is it- are they-?”

“Yeah?” Y/N laughed softly into Harry’s mouth, tugging off her jacket as she continued to kiss him. But, amidst their kissing, Y/N’s bandmates suddenly came in, so nonchalant, catching Harry off guard and making him flush even more. “Is that alright with you? You talked about it last night and I just… I don’t know, wanted to surprise you?” She chuckled and pulled back fully and Harry’s lips parted, unsure of what to say, his eyes flickering away from Y/N and over to her bandmates, waiting for his reply. 

“I…” His voice was as light as a feather, the filthiest of thoughts already entering his mind, causing his entire body to get even more excited, like electricity was striking through his veins. “Yes.” He nodded, adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped dryly, already feeling himself start to get insanely hot underneath his clothes that desperately needed to come off. 

Y/N smiled brightly and dropped her jacket onto the floor, hands reaching up to unzip Harry’s pants, an indescribable feeling rushing through his body when he felt another pair of lips on the back of his neck, new hands touching at his torso, pushing his shirt up and urging him to take it off. He pulled away from the kiss for a second and let them pull his shirt off, letting out a soft, filthy moan into Y/N’s mouth seconds after from the warm hands grasping at his hot skin. 

“How long have you been thinking about this, huh?” Y/N murmured against Harry’s lips and Harry could feel somebody smile against his neck, a soft whimper slipping past his lips when they suddenly nipped at his neck. “Multiple people ruining you, using you. You know, they were so surprised when I asked them about this, since they had no idea how fucking downright filthy you can get, isn’t that right?”

Harry’s face twisted up a little from pleasure and he nodded once more, agreeing breathlessly, and letting Y/N take more air out of his lungs when she gripped his hair and let her taste him again. 

Harry heard somebody mumble “Take these off.” and referring to his pants, or maybe they said it out loud, and it just sounded muffled because of how loud he could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Nevertheless, he felt somebody start pushing his pants down his thighs and he had never felt so exposed to so many eyes like that before, since everybody was still fully dressed and he was nearly naked at that point. 

He absolutely loved it, though. He loved the attention, the touch, the roughness, the feeling of them looking at him, wanting him as much as he wanted them. He felt so hot and felt like he was melting like lava in their hands, goosebumps having risen all over his body from all the fingers running over his skin. 

Soon enough, he felt himself fall down onto a plush bed, curls already messed up and slightly frizzy, feeling like he was on display when everybody was just looking at him for a second. 

•••

“God, fuck.”

Violet gripped the headboard of the bed, lightly rocking herself against Harry’s tongue, eyes closed with one of her hands buried in his hair, luscious ‘ohhh’s’ slipping past her soft lips. Sebastian, who was fucking Harry, leaned in to kiss Violet’s shoulder gently, sinking his teeth into her skin to muffle a groan. Harry felt so hot and tight around him it felt like his head was spinning from how crazy he was getting from the feeling, his hands easily holding Harry’s thighs apart no matter how much he tried to squeeze them together. 

Violet whimpered softly when Angelica suddenly pressed her lips against hers, feeling her hand against the back of her neck, preventing her from pulling away. She was already breathless before and now it felt like Angelica was just taking all the air she had left in her lungs from the deep kiss they were sharing, moaning softly into her mouth as she tasted her. Violet used her other hand to press two fingers against Angelica’s cunt since she wasn’t looking, causing her to gasp into her mouth and rock against her fingers slightly, feeling herself throb even more from the feeling. 

Violet couldn’t help but smile into the kiss a little and used her thumb to rub Angelica’s clit in slow circles as she pressed a finger into her weepy hole slowly, thrusting in and out, before eventually adding another. She simultaneously rode Harry’s face while fucking Angelica, encouraging her to come and praising her the entire time, mumbling against her lips. Violet’s other hand had tightened significantly in Harry’s hair and immediately loosened it, until Harry ran his tongue over her clit repeatedly, then she gripped it tightly once more, gasping against Angelica’s lips. 

“Oh, f-fuck, I’m gonna come.” She stuttered out and pulled away from Angelica for a second, head tipping back as she continued to rock herself against Harry’s tongue again, driving herself to an orgasm, gasping and moaning until she made a mess on his face, while Angelica’s forehead was pressed against her shoulder as she shuddered from sheer pleasure. 

Harry was out of breath when Violet got off of him when she was too sensitive, lips and chin shiny with spit and arousal. His chest was heaving and it felt like Sebastian was knocking the air out of his lungs even more with every thrust he was giving him, trying to fuck an orgasm out of him. He whined from the roughness and from the feeling of his blunt nails digging into his thighs, pushing his head back against the pillow beneath it, desperately trying to find something to grasp. 

Harry was about to say something until Sebastian suddenly leaned down, groaning into Harry’s mouth as he kissed him, tasting him and Violet’s arousal. He was getting close, so he brought a hand up and started giving Harry quick strokes, causing him to whine into Sebastian’s mouth and try to close his legs again, but failing. He pulled away for a second and as soon as he saw Harry’s eyes roll to the back of his head, he groaned, burying his face in Harry’s sweaty neck, hips stuttering slightly and thrusts slowing down as he moaned against Harry’s skin. 

Harry whimpered quietly when Sebastian pulled out soon after, and he watched as he started pulling off the condom and start moving to the other side of the bed, but that was it, because Y/N was suddenly there again, kissing him.

“You’re a mess.” Y/N chuckled softly, nose brushing against Harry’s as she gave him a small break from everything and Harry felt himself melt from her touch when he felt the tips of her fingers running down his chest, down to his stomach, but quickly tensed and whined when she wrapped her hand around his sensitive cock, giving him slow, firm strokes. He choked on a moan and squeezed his thighs together tightly, bringing a hand down to grasp her wrist, making her chuckle and stop altogether. 

Harry sighed softly and closed his eyes, grip tightening on Y/N’s wrist when he felt somebody filling him up once more, mouth opening in a silent moan, back arching upwards from the feeling. 

“God, you’re so pretty, Harry.”

James whispered in Harry’s ear and groaned softly afterwards, letting his forehead fall down onto Harry’s shoulder. Harry felt heat rise to his cheeks from the compliment, placing a hand on James’ back and digging his nails into the skin there a little when he started moving, gasping quietly. 

When Harry blinked his eyes open he could see Angelica saying something into James’ ear, but unable to hear it, brows furrowing when James suddenly got back up, smiling and chuckling lightly, before Angelica kissed him. James started thrusting a little harder and deeper after that and Harry scrambled to grasp the sheets, letting out a loud whine when he felt Angelica suddenly start stroking him, pressing his thighs together, but doing that did absolutely nothing to help with the sensitivity, and James only held his knees together, fucking into him with more eagerness, moaning softly into Angelica’s mouth. 

Harry was getting close embarrassingly fast and when he suddenly felt a wetness run across one of his nipples, it felt like he was on the brink of an orgasm already. He glanced down for a second and realized it was Y/N, before letting his head fall back down onto a pillow, letting out a wet gasp when she started toying with his other nipple with her fingers. 

“I’m gonna come.” Harry gasped out, eyes squeezing shut tightly and growing quiet when his second orgasm washed over him, only letting out small and weak whimpers as Angelica stroked him through it, hearing her chuckles over the loud thumping of his heartbeat in his ears as she watched. 

Harry could only let out soft little noises as James continued to fuck into him over and over, only letting out a gasp when James stilled at some point, groaning as his stomach clenched and caved in a little from orgasmic pleasure. He pulled out slowly after a little while, causing Harry’s face to scrunch up in a wince a little, before he let his legs stretch out, melting into the bed, all fucked out.

a/n: here’s part one of this aka what i based this off of! this is rockstar!y/n and her bandmates having fun with (not so) shy!harry !!! hope it was okay and feedback is always appreciated 🫶 thank you for reading love u! 🫂

🏷: @crow-i-guess, @planetflos, @harrycanyonmoonn, @bxtchboy69, @sweet-as-lilacs, @lyricalniall, @venusincleo (couldn’t tag you!), @bxbun111, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @emispleased, @goldenhrry, @cinnamongirlrry, @manifestrry, @sadqn1, @sad1esgf, @taylorsreputationsversion, @violetsandfluff, @purplefishingline, @a-strange-familiar, @moonlightbea-33 (couldn’t tag you!), @famedrs-blog, @coochiesteak, @blahblahblah-888 (couldn’t tag you!), @milesisntdonewritingyet, @harrysgoth, @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite (couldn’t tag you!), @cinnamonlola, @youcan-nolonger-run, @velvetrylie, @vamprry

[eveningepiphany]

insatiable | H.S series, part I

eveningepiphany’s 1k special <3

summary: harry is a prince, natalia is a spy for his court. both of them can’t stand one another, but natalia having to take any direct information she learns about the attempt on his life directly to him seems to put the pair in an interesting dynamic.

SERIES warnings: darker topics, murder, death, cults, alcohol, smut, violence, royal au! harry, fem!oc, fantasy and swearing.

a/n: this is something I’ve wanted to write for a long time now. I love reading fantasy, and I think it would be fun to kind of test the waters in writing a proper series myself.

· · ─────── ·����· ─────── · ·

A part of me wishes it was nothing like this.

That I didn’t live in a world where everyone was out to deceive you.

But that’s exactly what you get in Carthion. I’d say it’s all you ever get, but maybe that’s just my outlook on it.

Especially when you consider I’m no better than the rest of them.

You see, when you grow up with parents who did the worst things just to get by, you’re conditioned to it. The expectation that everyone is out to get you.

And of course, the things they did weren’t just steal some bread and fruit from the night market to get a feed, or maybe pickpocket a passerby or two bad. The kind of stuff that would have you killed if it was unearthed.

But how I grew up is realistically how I got here.

I’ve been a spy— which is really just a justified way of saying I’m a deceitful murderer— “professionally” for only three years now.

But I’d been really doing it since I was 13. Sounds young, I know. It was young.

The thing was, I was small, smaller than my dad. I could squeeze into little places, move faster, quieter.

And who would suspect a 13 year old to be the one who’d shot a gang leader in an alleyway.

Not a soul apparently.

My father accompanied me on these little “missions” for the first, maybe, forty times? Until little by little he stopped.

He’d just tell me quietly what I needed to do in the dark of our small kitchen. And I’d be off.

Previously, my mother did a similar business. But she broke her leg on an outing when I was around 9. It left her much less physically able then she used to be, leaving her to stay home with me and my elder brother, Theodore. Making small knit items and pottery to sell at the markets— while dad was out.

I’d often catch myself falling into a daydream of where I’d be if I didn’t have the upbringing that I did. If I’d be a married woman yet, or maybe a guard for one of the royal courts if I had the same amount of drive.

But all of that is rather a waste of time, i reason with myself often. I’m busy enough as it is. And it’s about to get a whole lot more hectic.

I’m not conditioned to walk in heeled shoes. Nor am I proper enough to be in the dress that’s currently hugging my frame.

But when business with Royals arises, it’s what I can only assume is a must.

The guard, who bought me in is a few steps infront of me— awful move if I was an intruder— seems to know exactly where he’s taking me.

The corridors are lined with the families crest, large cream pillars with golden accents.

A single brick from this place is probably worth more than my life.

We’d been twisting and turning through the corridors until suddenly I’m greeted with large double doors, ones that would tower above any regularly sized one..

Another 2 burly men are positioned outside of them, gesturing a quick nod to whoever led me here.

A curt knock and a few beats of silence pass. I feel a little sick, I can’t lie.

A posh feminine voice sounds on the other side of the doors, undoubtedly Queen Annabelle herself.

“Come in!”

The doors get swung open, and I’m surprised to see that at first glance, this room is only a business or lounge room. It’s large enough to be a dining hall.

My gaze snaps back over to her as she begins to greet me, something I probably should’ve done first instead of marvelling at the room were standing in.

“Natalia, dear, hello.” My eyes switch between her and her unexpected guest, who— if this room weren’t so large— is tall enough he would’ve been the first thing I seen upon entering.

I’m positive it’s her son. The Prince.

Im unsure what exactly to say even though I practiced this in my head a million times.

I drop into a quick curtesy, “Hello, Your highness.”

I falter momentarily, hesitating to greet the Prince as well.

A extend my greeting to him, after a quiet intake of breath, “and to you too, Prince Harry.”

He has a scowl on his face, hardly giving me a me nod of his head.

I’ve only ever worked with people of a medium prestige. And only ever to silently cover up their dirty work. But I’m hardly surprised to see his distaste towards me.

If I am a minor disgust to the higher class, to the royals like Prince Harry, I must be the equivalent of skum on freshly polished shoes.

“Please, come sit with us. We have much to discuss.” She strides across the room, flowing ivory dress complimenting the green rug that takes up a large chunk of the floor.

She takes to a chair at the head of the table, it’s like a mock-throne, green fabric and deep wooden accents around its frame and arms.

The Prince reluctantly seats in the chair first to her right.

Despite the fact I’ve been allowed in this room, I feel terribly out of place.

I carefully take the chair thats two down from the queen, folding my hands neatly atop the rich wooden table which has a map in the centre of it.

I almost let out a sigh of gratefulness as Queen Annabelle begins talking, and isn’t expecting me to begin.

“Alright. You know the parameters in which you are here in, yes?” She raises her sharp brows.

“I do, for the most part. From the letters I’d received. I’m aware of what business you want me for.”

The Prince scoffs at the word business, and the Queen shoots him a glare.

“There are obviously some details left out. We need to smooth those out, before you can make your pledges.”

I nod, but sense that she’s not done talking.

“You acknowledge that this is going ahead yes? All that is left to do is get it in motion.”

“I do. I have a few questions regarding this job, but they can be covered at a later time if you’d like.” I try to keep my tone steady, formal.

I’m satisfied in her reaction to my words. She wasn’t expecting me to be so put together.

I had worked hard when I was younger to achieve this. My intellect is a strong point— and it makes me appear less rough around the edges.

It’s also that of a weapon, one you can carry everywhere with you, undetected. And it’s just as dangerous as the blade of a dagger.

“Of course. As of now, I’d like to discuss the raw details.”

She gestures towards her son, “My son, here, is a key part of this job. I believe in your letters you were ran down on an attempted assassination within our family. Since it’s now certain you’ll be taking the job, and you’ll be working closely with the both of us, I figure you should know he was the target.”

He’s frowning still as a lock eyes with him. And I connected those dots the second I realised he was in the room.

I have never met him. But from the great vine I’d heard mixed opinions on his person.

“Aside from myself and our head of counsel, he will be whom you take any learned information to.”

She lets out a sigh, “I would like him to be excluded from this process, however, it was made clear it wouldn’t go ahead without his involvement.”

I ponder a moment on how he is allowed a choice in the matter, seeing she’s the Queen and all.

She looks to me for agreement, “Understood.”

“Perfect. Im aware we have little information on who has committed this crime. That is why you’re here. I fear that they will come back and finish what they started.” I steal a glance at the prince again, who looks relatively unbothered considering we’re discussing the details of his near death experience, “I expect you to prevent this from happening.”

High expectations come with exhausting hours of work. But I nod anyways.

“My head of counsel, Tyrone will also need to receive a pledge from you and then he will run you down on the smaller details I have no business in. But other than that, your work will begin after our pledges.”

A lot of damn pledges, too.

This was the worst part of working with people of such a title, the expectance of you to lay yourself down for them, to swear your life and loyalty to them. A pledge knows no time, and can only be withdrawn by the one it’s given too. So the more pledges, the more you’re shackled to. To outright break a pledge would send you straight to exile— so it’s rare to hear of it. It’s like a fucking cult out there, in the barren of the north where the exiles call home.

She prattles on over some more details, that I take as much mental note on as possible, before standing from her chair, “Harry, will you please leave the room while she makes her pledge to me.”

I thank the stars for the this shred of dignity shes allowing me, but i catch the shock on Prince Harry’s face at his removal.

“But—“ he begins and she silences him, “Out.”

He sighs outwardly, sending another glower my way as he walks out the door.

I awkwardly rise from my chair, nerves bubbling through me, trying to prepare myself on what to say.

Theres no script, its all dependent on the situation, so you must say the right things and leave no room for misconception in your words. Mistake and gaps can easily be used against you.

It’s dodgy absolutely, but a risk that must be taken for this business.

“Natalia, is this your first time making a pledge?” She asks from where she stands a few feet away from me.

“No.” It was my third, but she doesn’t need to know that.

It’s not many, especially since in what I do, some people rack them up like it’s a competition.

“Have you been let go of all your previous pledges?”

“Yes.” I nod, which was almost true, all but one.

A risky game I’m playing, lying already, but no risk no reward I suppose is what they say.

Answering no raises to many questions on her end that I hardly feel mentally prepared to answer.

I take initiative to kneel at her feet, ready for her go ahead.

“Very well.”

“Queen Annabelle the fifth, I kneel below you as I vow to uphold my loyalty to you, for as long as it may be needed. I am aware that your life must come before mine at all times, and that I’m never to withhold information that could be of detriment to you or your family.”

I draw in a breath, “All information that I learn in my time working under you will be taken to those of your request, and nothing will be kept to myself that could endanger anybody in your circle. Outside of those im working with, all that I find out is kept to myself. Gossip is for the lowly courts, and I do not wish to start it.”

I pray that ive covered the basis, and begin to close off the pledge, “My name is Natalia Atalanta Finley, and I pledge myself to you, Queen Annabelle the fifth.”

A shudder passes through me as my middle name breaches the tip of my tongue.

This is how the pledges are set in stone. Your second name is to be kept close to your heart; it can be easily used against you. Hence why business using them is unfavourable.

I had held her eye contact, and watched as she nodded. Her face was netrual, not showing whether she was pleased or not.

“Thank you. I will send Harry in for you now.” She sounded calm. Of course she was. Considering she wasn’t the one now down a point.

I only can nod.

Carefully standing, despite the fact I’m going to be kneeling again in a few moments, I brush my hands down the waist of my satin dress.

She heads out the doors, I strain to hear a few muffled whispers that are presumably exchanged between her and her son. Then the door is opening again.

I fight the urge to look away. I am not about to appear shy, or like I am now certainly below them. He strides in, and I finally get a good look at him in the full.

He’s in a black kind of overcoat, and a smooth white blouse-like shirt. The tattoos on his collarbones, which im not sure what they are yet, visible through the material.

I make note of his black trousers and my eyes make their way back to the hair on his head. Its mid length, unruly and curly is the best way to describe it.

He looks smug, yet somehow still inconvenienced by my presence, “kneel, wont you?”

These are the first words he’s said to me directly, and I already want to jam my elbow into his stomach. Terrific.

I take a few steps towards him, and slowly sink back down onto my knees, feet tucked under myself as I hold eye contact with him.

“Your highness,” I begin, but theres an unmistakable edge to my voice.

“Sound like you mean it at least.” He hums.

With a passive aggressive clear of my throat I start again, “Your highness,”

“This y’first time making a pledge?” He quirks a brow almost assuming.

“No.” You frown.

“No need to get your back up.” He laughs briefly, but it’s laced with an audacious tone, one lacking in kindness.

“Continue on, then.”

His gaze is back to burning into me as I pretty much recite what I said to his mother only minutes ago, sticking to the same promises as to not get any misconstrusions on their behalf.

The golden hour light is seeping through the cream coloured curtains that line the windows, it’s casting a glow on his sculpted face. I begin to close off my pledge to him, but he interrupts.

“Remind me again who is in charge of you?” He knows there’s hardly any need for this, considering im on my knees basically promising him my obedience, but he’s doing it to just get a rise out of me.

Which all though he doesn’t get it verbally, he can see the disdain on my face.

“You, Prince Harry.” I say, carefully.

“And you will not do anything without my go ahead first, correct?”

“Within reason, yes.” My job is too impulsive to say yes to that and it not backfire on me.

“Within reason? Elaborate, will you.”

“I must make impulsive decisions. I cannot promise you will always be debriefed on them when its an in-the-moment choice, or if you are possibly a few hundred miles away.”

His gaze narrows, “Within reason it shall be then.”

I close it off, earning a small raise of his eyebrows as he hears my full name.

“Good girl. You may rise.” He says it with a smirk, and with an air of power of me, which of course he now feels he has after my pledge.

“Do not call me that.” I state, pulling at any shred of dignity I have left as I stand up.

“What else would you prefer then?” It’s asked, however it’s clear to me he doesn’t care.

“My name.” I scoff.

“Alright then, Natalia.” He rolls his eyes.

He stares at me a moment, looking ready to leave,“I will see you, unfortunately, tomorrow then.”

I shoot him an unkind look, but keep my lips sealed.

“Anything else to say, sugar?” He teases, a cruel smirk on his face.

“Natalia.” I correct, “No, there is not.”

I decide to be the one to exit the room, uncaring if that is rude. I’ve already sworn him my life, and despite him acting like I’m of no use to him, I know I am— more then he’s leading on anyway.

I open the doors myself, and the guards are quick to check on the prince.

“Are you ok, Sir?” One of them tentatively asked, like as if I’ve hurt him.

“Just fine.” He brushes them off, eyes trailing me as I walk down the hallway despite no sense of where I’m going.

One of the guards hurries behind me,

“Ma’am, where are you going?”

He reaches my side and I glance to him, “Take me to the head of counsel, please.”

I figure I get the last pledge out of the way, and any other debriefing so I can just get out of here for tonight. Worry about it all later, in the earlier hours of tomorrow morning when I have to wake up.

The guard nods, and takes the lead while I try to memorise the twists and turns were making around the palace.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tyrone is a fucking asshole.

If I had thought Prince Harry was rude or demeaning, I was in for a shock.

He hardly greeted me as I’d came into what I can only assume is his office. It was dark and unwelcoming, the wood was stained to the colour of black coffee, and nothing about it was homely.

He’d had me making this pledge for what felt like an hour. Running over detail upon detail.

Harshly demanding for more information, more promising.

By the time I’d closed it off— which at the rate we were going I thought was never going to happen— he made me stay for another hour going over what he wanted me to do, so I could start first thing tomorrow morning.

He basically gave me the caseload and then kicked me out.

I was mentally muddled as I left his office, and the halls were now completely dark aside from the warm casting of light from the candles, which sat in candelabras coming out of the walls.

I just wanted to go back to Mabel’s. Get this dress off and back into the confines of her cupboard and sleep.

However was almost caught off guard as someone was at the end of the hallway.

“Natalia.” I heard the deep voice regard me, walking up closer to me.

It surprised me in all honestly, I hadn’t seen them when I first walked out, “Yes?”

“I’m here to take you to your room.”

I was immediately confused.

“My room?”

“Yes. There’s a room made up for you in the western-wing of the palace.”

“I didn’t request a room.” I frown, and no one had told me I’d be staying here.

“All I know is Her Majesty had a room made up for you to stay in while you’re here. Allow me to lead you there.”

I nodded cautiously, but I knew what this was, it was to keep me under watch and control. It seems like a lovely customary gift in exchange for my work, but realistically it’s to stop me from interacting with anyone outside of the palace when I don’t need to.

I contemplate refusing to go, but figured that would just add unnecessary suspicion on my behalf.

I reluctantly followed the bulky man halfway across the palace, and everything started looking the same in the dark until we stopped outside a room. And i nodded a ‘thank you’ as I went through the again, abnormally tall doors.

The room itself was bigger than any whole house I’d ever lived in.

There was a large bed placed in the centre of it, perfectly made of course. And I noticed a closet on my left that took up majority of where the wall would’ve been.

There were a multitude of things hanging in there, ranging from gowns to things only someone like me would wear around here, like cargo pants and plain long sleeves.

The bedside antique lamps were on, casting an also warm glow to the space. The light to the bathroom was also turned on. And when I walked in there, the bath was run, with a set of silk pajamas folded on the large vanity.

It was too much. Wayyy too much for me.

Bribery at its finest.

Poor girl having to do the worst of the worst kind of business because it’s all she knows, suddenly spoiled with the kind of riches the royals had to offer.

I know just how far these kinds of people will go to earn your trust.

However, i still cave when it comes to the bath. I manage— with a slight struggle— to unzip the back of my dress and get fully undressed and into the bath.

It was perfectly warm, small petals floating atop the water.

I keep in the forefront of my mind just how well materialistic bribery like this work because god, it is nice. That’s the whole point.

I don’t know how long i stay in there, trying to soak off the grievances of the day.

But when I finally get out and slip the silky pyjamas on I’m too warm.

I pad out of the bathroom, and find myself at the balcony door.

The cooler air hits me as i step outside. I examine the surroundings. Part out of habit and other out of curiosity.

The ground is not that far away, a survivable jump at least. And if the railing would hold me up I definitely would be able to scale up onto the roof.

I’m mid-inspection when I hear another door open nearby, and my head whips to find the source of the noise.

I drop into a crouch keeping my eyes searching through the gaps in the wooden railing. My eyes fall on a room just across the small courtyard from me.

I spot the tall figure leaning against their own balcony and I realise with a sink of my heart that it was the Prince.

Why his quarters were so close to mine I could only guess. To keep tabs on me?

I stay deathly still as I watch his figure, it’s facing the direction of me, and from his angle he could probably only see the warm lamps and the light streaming out of the bathroom door.

A shake of his head, a spin of his heel and he’s returned into the confines of his own quarters.

I take a breath and am careful to keep my self low as I slip back into my room. Standing to my full height once inside and away from the window.

It is now that I need to fully accept he is going to be a terror to deal with.

I flick the bathroom and bedside lights off, and slide under the covers of the bed.

Head plagued with thoughts, I can’t help but wonder how the fuck I’ve gotten myself into this.

And how exactly it’s all going to pan out.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

thank you again for reading this. your support means the world to me. stay tuned for future parts, and feel free to reply or send me an ask saying you want to be added to my taglist if you do, since I’ve had a few people ask to be on them!

asks & requests, here.

taglist:

@straightontilmornin @hs-tpwkrry

[daisyblog]

Personal Bodyguard

Our Story Masterlist Summary: YN gets hurts by paparazzi and Harry becomes protective.

warning: mentions of blood, YN gets hurt, angst

based on this request.

One Direction were currently touring America as part of their Take Me Home tour. They had become familiar with fans and paparazzi waiting for any sign of one them the boys leaving the hotel or arena, which meant it was routine how they, and their crew left the buildings.

The five boys would be escorted by their security to the car, and majority of the time the fans and paparazzi would slowly lose interest once the band had disappeared behind the car doors.

But on this occasion, the paparazzi were willing to go the extra step and begin to question anyone associated with the band. Being Lou’s assistant on the tour, Louis’ sister and Harry’s girlfriend meant YN was their target.

YN watched as the boys were escorted by their security to the several cars that waited outside their hotel to drive them to thr venue. The order remained the same, Zayn, Niall, Liam, Louis and Harry. The crew were quick to follow, but today YN was overwhelmed by the questions being fired at her.

“YN, is it true you’re pregnant?”

“Is Harry paying you to be on tour?”

“YN! YN! YN!”

The questions being shouted behind them caused Harry and Louis to quickly glance behind them. But they were hurried along to get to the cars faster.

“YN, what do you think about people saying you’re using Harry?”

YN walked behind Lou, reminding herself that they wanted a reaction and the quicker she walked the sooner she would be away from the pushing and cameras being in her face.

Just as the boys reached their car, Zayn, Niall and Liam were comfortable in their seats, they heard the hectic commotion.

The hard cover of the camera lens was quick to meet the skin on YN’s forehead. “OW!”. Quickly her hand whipped up to be met with the warm liquid.

Lou turned quickly behind her at the sound of pain coming from YN. She could see her holding a hand to her head and her fingers covered in red. Lou tried to push people away from YN. “Step away from her!”. But it was no use, cameras were still flashing and bodies were pushing and shoving.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!”. Harry’s voice appeared in front of them. His hands reaching for YN and pulling her body into his chest and holding her tight against him. “You’re okay babe, you’re safe…I’m here”. He gently spoke into YN’s ear as he tried to guide them to the car.

“Harry! Harry! Harry!”.

A camera appeared in Harry’s vision, but as quickly as it snapped a photo it was shoved away by Harry’s large hand. “CAN’T YOU SEE SHE’S HURT YOU FUCKING IDIOT!”. He could feel the anger build inside him. “JUST FUCK OFF OUT OF OUR WAY!”.

Paul intervened quickly, knowing Harry was one step away from causing more problems. He along with the other security made a path for the couple to walk through.

YN felt so much relief when she entered the van, finding herself in the seat next to her brother and Harry hot on her heels sitting in the chair next to her.

“Hey Kiddo…you alright?”. Louis’ voice was filled with concern as he saw his sister’s head full of read and Harry’s face filled with pure anger.

“STUPID FUCKING PAPS!”. Harry held a spare shirt he had in his bag to YN’s head, hoping it would help with the bleeding.

“Harry I’m alright…just stay calm”. YN pleaded knowing how angry he felt right now, she could see the pure hatred in his eyes.

Louis wrapped a protective arm around his sister’s shoulder. “They’re arseholes I know and they’re lucky it was you out there because I would have punched them square in the face…but YN’s right Harry…just stay calm…she’s safe here with us now”.

“You’re walking with us next time…I’m not having you get hurt again”.

---

Things had calmed down behind the scenes after the chaos that had been caused earlier on in the day. The boys had some free time backstage as they waited for the show to start.

Harry’s eyes hadn’t moved from YN, where she was peacefully sleeping on the sofa in the dressing room, her head now wearing a small plaster that the medic team had given her.

As much as Harry tried to forget about what had happened, he couldn’t and he blamed himself for not being by YN’s side the entire time.

“You better not be blaming yourself Harold”. Louis interrupted Harry’s inter battle he was having with himself.

Harry shrugged his shoulders as he muttered his reply with no tone. “Of course I am”.

Louis took a seat opposite where Harry was sitting, his eyes finding his sister tucked up unaware of their conversation. “I just wanted to say thank you”. Harry frowned in confusing at his words. “Thank you for protecting her…I used to worry about her on this tour, I still will, but…but watching you protect her like that today…I could see how much you care about her”.

“I’ll always protect her Lou…you haven’t got to worry about that”. Harry reinforced his promise as he quickly glanced back at YN.

As much as his words caused a stir in Louis heart at how in love the boy was with his sister, he quickly hid is teary eyes with a tad of teasing.

“You better had or you’ll have me to answer to”. Louis sent him a smirk as he left the room.

Tag List:

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats@harrysbbyh0ney @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r  @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @panicattheuc @or-was-it-just-a-dream @hittiesontour@bunnyharold @fanfictioncafe @lilfreakjez @iamahallucinationnn @theekyliepage @indierockgirrl@buckybarnessimpp @ashleighsss @jerseygirlinca @fake-coolbeans @itsmytimetoodream@treehouse-mouse @mrs-anna-styles211994 @macy-tpwk @mrs-anna-styles211994

[watermelonsugacry]

harry's 30th birthday blurb with 1d!yn?! 👀

Birthday Surprises

SUMMARY: Harry celebrates his 19th and 30th birthday with the person he loves.

GENRE: 1dbandmember!yn, married!ynrry

Since 2010 masterlist

Not to sound ungrateful, but Harry thinks that this was one of the worst birthday celebrations that he's ever had.

Tonight, he just wanted to spend his last year being a teenager having fun with friends—not be completely embarrassed and uncomfortable being strip teased and danced on by strippers. 

Not to mention that afterwards, One Direction’s management team had booked him to do a relationship stunt for the night. So as he walked out of the club and into his security team’s Range Rover, a tall, blonde model was by his side. As bad as it sounded, he couldn’t remember the girl’s name for the life of him. 

Nothing was going to happen with her anyways. All they had to do was a couple of paparazzi pictures of them together before they’re driven off into the night. The driver would discreetly drop her off at her own hotel before escorting Harry back to his. 

So there's not an ounce of uncertainty that when Harry comes out of the elevator, he's absolutely tired and wants nothing more than to be left alone.

He waves his card key in front of the lock and once he hears the little "beep" sound, he pushes the heavy door open.

His irritation and tiredness might have just peaked over its breaking point when he begins to hear rustling from inside. He’s already extremely worn out that he doesn’t even want to put in the effort into putting on a nice face to whoever’s inside his hotel room. But the smile that appears on his face is effortless when he sees YN flicking the wheel of the lighter over some birthday candles sticking out of a chocolate cake.

“Fucking fuck—oh, surprise!” She hops, extending her arms out beside her in what she hopes to look like a grand gesture.

“What’s going on?”

“We’re celebrating your birthday.” 

Anyone a mile away can tell how uncomfortable he was during the whole stripper fiasco. It sucked to have to stand off to the side, a faux smile on her face to see her bandmate in that type of situation. As much as she wanted to stay with him for the other “fun” festivities the night had to offer, she knew that she couldn’t let his birthday end the way it was heading. So she took the chance to leave the club a bit early and hoped that he would be up for one more celebratory, late night hang out.  

“But, but it’s already past midnight,” He blinks, still a little dumbfounded at the kind surprise before him.

"Oh come on, we only have—err—three, ah! Two more minutes until your birthday is officially over." YN pulls Harry over to the small dining table and sits him down in front of his freshly lit cake. It's then that he notices the shaky lettering on the cake that reads, “Happy Birthday Harry!” Letting him know that she went more out of her way for him than she initially let on. 

She comically clears her throat before beautifully yet quickly singing the infamous Happy Birthday song. The song isn't being yelled at to him by a big group of people, and the room isn't jam-packed with people he doesn't know. When he leans over to blow out his candles, he isn't fearful of hands going to the back of his head to stuff his face into the cake.

He doesn’t think twice about wrapping her up in his arms. He squeezes the tops of her shoulders tightly and she nestles into his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, “Thank you.”

The sentiment doesn't, can't go by unnoticed, but it doesn't seem totally out of the norm. This is Harry. A sweet and affectionate person whose love language is undoubtedly physical touch. If anything, it'd be YN feeling the one out of place in this situation. And maybe it was a change of heart towards her anti-touchy feelings or maybe it was because of his birthday. Either way, he's grateful for the way she's letting him hold her. If it were anyone else, she definitely wouldn't wrap her arms around his torso, humming at the warmth he brings.

"Well the night doesn’t have end here,” YN blinks up at him. As if they both realize their close proximity, they slowly pull away to give each other some space. “If you're still up for it and not too tuckered out, I rented that one stupid rom com you like. The one with the guy standing outside with the signs."

"Love Actually? I thought you didn't like that movie."

"Well to be fair, I actually have never seen it. But it’s your birthday and this is sort of part of my gift to you. You know, if you even wanna see it. If not, I can just fuck off and you can sleep because I know you probably had a pretty eventful day—”

She’s rambling. YN’s rambling—a quality she was never prone to particularly show, but it’s cute. He thinks she’s cute. 

“YN,” He chuckles, effectively cutting her off. “I’m down to watch it.”

“Really? Okay, cool. Because I already have the film on queue in the room so that would have been real fooking embarrassing.” Annnd she’s back.

He watches with curious eyes as she carefully slides the heavy cake plate onto her hands. 

She throws a nod towards the kitchenette, “Mind grabbing the forks.”

As much as Harry tries to resist it, he can’t seem to wipe the smile off his face. He quickly grabs the two utensils before following behind her to the open bedroom. YN quite literally steps onto the foot of the bed before carefully sitting down, balancing the cake in her hands.

He sits down next to her, handing her the fork just as she begins the movie. They both dig their forks into the middle of the cake, taking out a chunk.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” She says, clicking the ends of their forks together. She happily hums at the delicious dessert but it quickly turns into a groan at the opening aong of the movie. “Ah not this stupid song again. I felt like this was all i was hearing just the other month.”

He’d be lying if he said he was watching more of the movie than her. His cheeks hurt from chuckling at her witty commentary and he tries not to make a big deal about the way she actually started to get into the film. So as he eats cake and spends the rest of the night with his best friend, he thinks that this might be the best birthday he’s had in a long time.

• 11 years later ●

YN stumbles through the front door as Harry cradles her in his arms, his mouth feverishly pressed to hers. They smile through their kisses, and he hums as she runs her finger through his growing curls. Harry kicks the door of their shared home behind him and blindly tosses the keys haphazardly in the general direction of the bowl by the door.

“Okay, okay,” YN pushes against his shoulders, finally getting a breath in, the pair still walking further into their home without separating. “So I know you said you didn't want any more presents—”

“Baby,” the grown man playfully whines. “You've already given me everything.” In all sincerity, she really has in his eyes. He’s been in love with the woman before him since they were sixteen. He wanted to be with her since their time in the band, through the making of their solo albums and everything in between. Even though it’s been a little over a year now, it still brings an explainable peace and warmth to his heart that she’s now his wife; not his friend with benefits, secret lovers, or merely a couple, but married.

And today couldn't have gone better. YN had the whole day planned. They started the day with lazy morning sex that turned into breakfast in bed. They spent the afternoon down by a secluded beach, having an impromptu dip in the water just before eating the lunch she packed for them. Then, after a plane ride to their private villa in Italy, they've just got back from having a beautiful dinner at his favorite restaurant.

“There's nothing more I could possibly want. Ooo, unless you're hiding some sexy lingerie under this fine ass dress you got here.” He says into her the crook of her neck, already sponging kisses onto her skin.

YN lets out a laugh, especially as his fingers begin to bunch up her silk dress. “No! Well, not no but—”

“So you do,” Harry says with excitement, the creases in his eyes appear when he hears her laughter. 

“Just hang on a sec. Your present is upstairs.”

“So I get to unwrap my last birthday present in the bedroom,” He teases her further. Her husband relishes in the way she lets out a girly squeal when he dips down and effortlessly lifts her over his shoulder to bring them into the master bedroom. 

 “Wait, wait,” She pushes as Harry plops them down on the bed, already trapping her underneath him. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a sec.”

Once she's managed to wiggle herself free (with great effort, no thanks to Harry) she scurries off to the connected bathroom.

He sits himself down on the bed, undoing the cuffs of his button up before rolling up his sleeves, preparing himself to see if wife in lacy undergarments that are only begging to be taken off by his teeth. Or torn off. Either one would work.

“H, close your eyes.” YN says from behind the door. “I mean it, no peeking.”

“Alright, alright.” He complies, already feeling a childlike sense of giddy anticipation. 

“Are they closed?”

“Yeah.”

“...are you sure?”

“Yes! For fuck sake’s woman. Being so mean on my birthday,” he laughs.

He feels the bed dip next to him before a kiss is pressed to his lips. Before he can bring his hands to her jaw to deepen the sweet kiss, he feels something being placed in his hands.

“Okay, open them,” she says against his lips.

He pulls back and sees a red box tied with a bow on top. 

“Lovie, you really shouldn't have.”

“Last one, I promise.”

Just to tease her, he brings the small box next to his head and shakes it slightly to hear the contents rattle inside.

YN makes a strategic move by placing one of her hands behind him so her thumb can twist at her rings, knowing that that's her dead giveaway for her nerves.

When he opens the lid, it's only then his face gets serious—lips slightly parted with soft eyes. On top of the pile of confetti lies a pregnancy test. The small, red plus line stares back at him clear as day.

“YN?” When he looks to his love, she begins to hold back her tears at the sight of his watery eyes and pink nose. “Is—wha—are you sure?”

“I took like five of them just to be sure,” she lets out a chuckle.

“We’re having a baby?” Words can't describe the warmth and happiness that fills her chest at his excitement. It's not like they haven't mentioned having kids before. It's been brought up a couple of times, most recently these past two years, but the timing was never right. They were always working; whether it be on making an album, working on themselves, and for the longest time, tour was their babies. But now that their 2 year world tours have ended and they've finally had time to go MIA for a couple of months, it didn't feel like a better time.

The couple wasn't setting up a schedule or anything technical to have a baby. Especially since going on their second honeymoon had been occupying their schedule right after touring was done, they decided that baby making would happen naturally. Whenever their baby decided to enter their lives, that would be the perfect time.

YN nods and before she can say the words to verbally confirm, he has her wrapped in his arms. Harry lifts her off the bed and gives her a little twirl.

As quickly as he picked her up, he's on his knees before her and puts a gentle hand on her tummy.

“Hi, bubba,” he says softly. YN beams at the sight, already wiping at the happy tears running down her cheeks. “I'm your daddy, and I love you so so much.”

After placing a gentle kiss on her stomach, he finally takes his wife's face in his hands and kisses her. It isn't rushed or filled with a sexual need. It's soft and filled with so much love and passion.

“We're gonna be parents, baby. You’re gonna make the best momma," he says sincerely, getting more emotional at the thought of holding a mini YN or a mini him in his arms in less than a year from now.

"And you're gonna make the best dad," she hums. He wraps his arms around the tops of her shoulders, pulling her close to him as she cuddles into him. He presses a kiss to her forehead and sniffs back his tears.

"I love you so much."

“i love you, baby. Happy birthday, Harry.”

.

.

taglist:

@ashtongivesmebutterflies @cacapeepee @thurhomish @armystay89

(Let me know if you wanna be added 💚)

[0oolookitsme]

Piece of His Heart

Hii everyone, I'm back from my long hiatus!! Hope you missed me because boy did I miss YOU! <3 This one is a little emotional, a little sweet, and VERY Harry focused. Also, I was inspired to write this piece while listening to 'London's Song' by Matt Hartke, and trust me, it's a lovely song. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Verse - Artist!Harry x Photographer!Y/n

Word Count - 1.0k

Warnings - Mentions of unplanned pregnancy, financial stress.

Harry and Y/n were students, and now, parents to a newborn babygirl as well. With all of the newfound emotions rushing through them, one thing he knew was that they were going to build this new little family slowly, and lovingly.

Harry looked up at the ceiling, at the overused fan moving slowly and creakily, with one of his arms under his head while the other one remained draped over his little baby's back. 

She was curled up on top of him, breathing softly, her little hands fisting his shirt. 

Daylight was pouring into the room through the gap between the two curtains, and Harry still couldn't believe that the little one sleeping away on his chest was finally here, after a worthwhile wait of a full nine months.

He still remembers the nickname he'd given her while she was still inside her mum's belly – 'Pumpkin' he had called her, and her little frame couldn't have agreed more with him. 

Full and round cheeks hung a little low on her face, her small mouth in a pout and eyes as circular as pearls, nothing if not the true meaning of grace.

Which is why he'd settled with the name 'Opal', grinning widely while Y/n had nodded furiously with tears in her eyes, saying how it was the perfect name ever.

His mornings suddenly became impossibly sweeter, something he hadn't expected since he had moved back in this childhood home with Y/n.

A few days ago, when he had laid his eyes on the bundle of sunshine for the very first time ever, a huge piece of his heart, if not his entire heart, had been taken right then and there. 

Sighing, Harry got up very carefully, wary of waking up the newborn and then, when he successfully hadn't, laid her on the two person size sofa – all that he could fit in the name of a seat inside his small art studio. 

He had just turned to get back to his awaiting Canvas, when Opal began mumbling. She was talking in her sleep, he realised with a smile growing on his face, making his dimples show up. 

Another piece of his heart was taken then. 

He wondered, each time that she slept, about just what she was dreaming up. On nights, he worried if she wasn't warm enough, wanted her to know that there was a blanket of stars above her – but he knew he could wait until she began talking to do that. 

Even though he couldn't afford the best, he was going to make this work. He was going to be the best father out there, give Opal all of his love, all with Y/n by his side.

Putting back down the paintbrush he had picked up because he couldn't stop thinking of her, Harry walked back over with his stool to sit and watch her. He crossed over the chair, his front against the chair's backrest as he rested his face on his arms, gazing down with a soft smile on his mouth. 

"I can't wait for you to grow up so that we can talk, you know? So, hopefully, you can tell me if this is where you'll always wanna be," he spoke, brushing away the unruly mop curls on her head. 

"And we can go to a place where you look at the light and it splinters," he sighed, moving to cover her up with a blanket. "Where there's plenty of gas in our car to last us the cold, cold winter," tears glazed over his sight, sniffling as he looked at her small figure lull to side as she slept – he almost let slip a chuckle. 

Right then, she took whatever pieces were left of his heart. 

Winter this year wasn't easy, but that wasn't to say that it wasn't the best one aside from the ones he had spent with Y/n. So much financial stress had come with the unplanned pregnancy, and now a baby. But he knew that the both of them could pull through the loans and make it out as a happy and healthy family, if they stuck together. 

Y/n’s dad, a single father, was a little bit bitter about the whole situation but had begrudgingly stepped forward to help out the two with handling the house, seeing as the both of them had to attend college as well as take care of the baby. He dropped off the groceries last weekend, along with the last minute new-born-baby stuff that Y/n had told him they needed. 

Even Anne stepped forward, letting the two of them borrow a room in her house for as long as they needed – likely until they could get back up on their own feet financially.

Currently, as Harry sat feeling overwhelmed with all of the love and other emotions rushing through him, he could hear Anne talking to Y/n down the hall. The walls weren’t the thickest and he could tell that Anne was sharing her own stories with Y/n, telling her about how she’d had Harry at a young age, and more. 

He’d heard it before, had even seen the two of them having this chat. So he knew that Anne, very likely, had Y/n’s head in her lap and brushing her hands through her hair, trying to console the woman high on hormones and the insurmountable number of emotions she must be feeling. 

Wiping away at his nose with the sleeve of his flannel, Harry blinked away the tears and pulled up a smile on his face again, trying to be courageous, for Y/n and their daughter. Because he knew that Y/n was doing the same for them. For the little family they were both going to build slowly and lovingly now.

"But I also want you to be this little forever, so that I can cherish you enough, yes?" He asked her, nodding his head when she mumbled something incoherent, something similar to ‘we’ll be fine, dada', Harry wanted to believe. 

And unable to help himself, he picked her up again, holding her flush against his exposed torso because he didn’t have the energy to button up his shirt and the skin to skin contact made breathing a little easier. 

"I'll love you tenderly," he whispered, pressing a kiss on her forehead. "I'll love you forever, and more, little pumpkin." 

[hsunrry]

are you fucking hard? // one shot

harry styles x fem!reader x drew starkey x fem!oc

summary: based on this request.

|| masterlist ||

words: ~1,5k

warnings: smut18+, dirty talking (praise, degradation), oral (both), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, chocking (slight), hair pulling, quadrangle (if that’s what it’s called), spanking

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“fuck.” he muttered under his breath, discreetly adjusting himself in his pants. you two were sitting in the cinema, since he was your date for the premiere of the movie you were playing in. you looked at him with wide eyes when he got hard from seeing you and Drew Starkey having sex scene in the movie.

“are you fucking hard?” you whispered to him and he looked at you with innocent eyes, but you knew exactly why it happened. you were together for almost 4 years now and both of you have a lot of kinks, just loved trying new things in bed. lately, you were talking about trying a threesome with someone. he was possessive sometimes, of course, so you were curious how it’d work out.

“can’t help it, babe.” he shrugged. “that’s hot.” he grinned, stealing quick kiss from you. after the movie there was after party for cast and their accompanying person in exclusive hotel. you and Harry arrived few minutes ago, both already after one drink.

“y/n!” you heard Drew’s voice behind you. he quickly hugged you when he approached, extending his hand to your boyfriend right after. “nice to meet you finally.”

“yeah, pleasure to meet you.” he shook hands with him. Drew waved at someone and quickly after a girl approached us.

“this is my girlfriend, Veronica.” he smiled, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. your first thought- how pretty she is. suddenly thinking about threesome changed to you, Harry and them. you knew you couldn’t just go straight to the point, because who’s taking things like this that way? you were biting inside of your cheek, when your boyfriends voice took you out of the trance.

“everything okay, honey?” he squeezed your hip and you immediately looked at him with a nod.

“excuse us for a moment.” you smiled at Drew and Veronica, going with him just a little away. he looked at you with curious expression. “well, i know we were talking about, uh, threesome, but…” you looked briefly at the couple. his eyes widened.

“you’d be comfortable with that?” he raised his eyebrow and you nodded quickly. he grinned, shrugging. “i mean, it could be fun, why not. should we go just straight to the point and ask?” your eyes widened at his words.

“are you crazy?” you chuckled and he just smiled down at you. that’s when you realised he was serious. “Harry.” but it was too late. you two were already standing next to them again and your boyfriend was just (as always) speaking his mind.

“so, i’m not gonna lie me and y/n are looking for some fun tonight.” he said, looking from him to her.

“fun?” Drew raised his eyebrow, clearly interested. his grip on his girlfriend tightened slightly. she looked interested as well.

“i’ll just go straight to the point.” he shrugged slightly. “it’s just proposition, but me and y/n, well… we’re interested in exploring new things in bed. should i keep talking?”

“yeah, keep talking.” Drew smirked, taking a sip of his drink. your eyes actually widened when he said that, you just didn’t expected they’d be interested in something like that. you looked at Veronica, seeing big grin on her face.

“we were previously thinking about threesome, but we’re interested in both of you, actually.” your boyfriend said nonchalantly and Drew’s eyes only scanned the hotel bar.

“should we book a room then?” his hand went on his girlfriends nape of the neck, massaging it.

“just like that?” you asked, looking at both of them.

“just like that.” she spoke now. well, ‘just like that’ four of you were already in big hotel room, finishing last shot before the actual event.

“anything you guys are uncomfortable with?” Harry asked, going with his hand through his curls.

“kissing on the lips.” Drew said immediately. “i mean i don’t mind our pretty girls kiss, but like you and V, me and y/n.” your boyfriend only nodded. “how about protection for you guys?”

“we’re both clear and i’m on contraceptive injections, so it’s fine for us without.” you said, feeling Harry’s hand already wandering on your ass, squeezing it from time to time.

“great, i’m on birth control, so it should be fine as well.” she smiled. “and we’re both clear as well, of course.” surprisingly, atmosphere wasn’t awkward. it was more arousing as fuck. the moment she approached you to kiss your lips was the moment of complete break of all barriers. as you were kissing, you could felt Harry’s body behind you and his hand on your breast, lips on your neck. Drew did similar thing, standing behind her, but instead of his lips his hand wrapped around her neck to add slight pressure. you both moaned quietly into the kiss when your tongues met, caressing each other gently. your boyfriends hands went to the zipper of your dress, slowly pulling down. it wasn’t even few minutes later when you were all naked and she was laying down with your lips on her pussy with her boyfriends dick in her mouth, moaning around it every time you were sucking on her clit and moaning yourself when Harry was fingering you to stretch you nicely. you pushed two digits inside her as well, curling them to perfectly pump on her g-spot.

“so fucking pretty, sucking my cock like that.” Drew groaned, fucking her mouth at this point. your fingers started moving faster in her cunt and your boyfriend’s fingers mirrored your actions in your own pussy. hard smack landed on your ass from his free hand as he withdrew his fingers, pushing his dick inside instead. you gasped at the feeling of him balls deep as he started moving fast immediately. “how about you take two in your tight little pussy?” this time Drew’s question was for you. you only managed to nod and his girlfriend moved aside for a moment, so he could slide under you. Harry pulled out, positioning himself still behind you, but between other man legs. both of them lined to your entrance, almost ripping you in half when they pushed inside.

“holy fucking shit!” you cried out as they both stilled when being almost to the hilt inside you to let you adjust. three of you moaned loudly when they started moving in and out. Harry’s hands gripped your waist tightly.

“taking two cocks, fucking slut.” he smacked your ass, causing your louder moan.

“sit on my face.” Drew commanded his girlfriend and she quickly obeyed, sitting on his face, facing you. your lips immediately wrapped around her nipple, causing her loud moan from all the sensations. they started moving at faster pace, your inner walls squeezing them already.

“she’s gonna fucking come already, give it to me baby, squeeze two of us, gonna fill your pretty hole.” Harry groaned, his hand pulling your hair. your lips left her nipple with soft pop. when you started clenching around them, milking their cocks for all it’s worth they both filled you up with hot sprouts of cum. she came on his face few seconds later, his tongue lapping her juices hungrily. two softening lengths slipped out of you and their mixed release immediately dripped from your core on Drew’s dick and lower stomach. “lick it.” Harry commanded, giving you another hard spank. you quickly went down, licking everything clean. they both were hard from it again and you watched Veronica going to lay on her back on her boyfriend, waiting already for two cocks to swallow with her cunt. when they pushed inside, Drew from the bottom and Harry from top her head snapped back immediately and loud moan escaped her lips. you laid down next to them, pushing your fingers inside your stretched slit, pleasuring yourself while watching them. Harry’s gaze went on you, his face contorting with pleasure as he watched you. they started moving faster, Drew’s hand went to rub on her clit, knowing they all won’t last long. your boyfriends hand gripped your wrist, withdrawing your fingers and pushing his instead. your eyes rolled back as he was fingering you fast, with perfect curve. only thing able to be heard in the room was mixed moans, skin slapping and wet sounds of arousal. it all just sounded like pure porn, but it was so fucking hot for all of you. with few thrusts she came around them, feeling her boyfriend finding his release inside her. Harry moved few more times before his cock started throbbing inside her as well, sending hot cum deep. he was fingering you this whole time and finally you found your climax around his digits, moaning his name loudly. after few minutes of just laying with each other and breathing heavy, calming down in general, Drew spoke.

“that was fucking good.”

[d-targaryenshoe]

Guitar Strings of Joy - Harry Styles

Word Count: 1702

Summary: Big moments, yet small ones are rather special to share with the people who support you through it all aren't they?

You stood backstage, your fingers running across the familiar strings of your guitar.

The hum of the crowd vibrated through the floor beneath your feet, and you could hear the murmur of excitement building as the lights dimmed in the arena.

It was one of those nights—one of those moments—that made your heart race, even after years of touring with Harry.

As one of his guitarists, you had played in some of the biggest venues worldwide, but tonight was different.

Tonight, you weren't just his guitarist, you were also his girlfriend and the soon-to-be mother of your first child.

A flutter of nervous excitement mingled with your anticipation.

In just a few minutes, your secret would no longer be yours.

Harry had insisted on making this night special, and you had agreed. You'd been planning it for weeks, keeping your little secret close.

The gender reveal of your baby would happen right here, on stage, in front of thousands of fans.

And it would be you who would announce it with the iconic guitar solo of Harry's song, 'Adore You'.

The thought made your stomach flip with both nerves and excitement.

Harry's voice came through the speakers as he greeted the crowd, his tone warm and familiar, like a friend welcoming everyone into his home.

He had that effect on people, a natural ease that made even the largest of crowds feel intimate.

"Hey, everybody! How are we feeling tonight?" Harry's voice boomed through the arena, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

You could almost see him in your mind, smiling that boyish grin that had captured hearts all over the world.

You listened as Harry went through the opening set, your fingers moving instinctively over your guitar strings, getting in sync with the rhythm of the band.

You had played these songs a hundred times, but tonight there was an added weight to every note.

Then, it was time.

The moment you had both been waiting for.

Harry paused after finishing the previous song, letting the last note fade into the electric buzz of the crowd.

He looked over at you, his eyes sparkling with something that made your heart skip.

There was a pause, the kind that stretched just long enough to build anticipation.

“So, before we go on,” Harry began, his voice suddenly quieter, more intimate, “I want to share something special with you all. Tonight isn’t just another concert for us. It’s also a really special night for me and someone you all know pretty well.”

The crowd murmured in curiosity, a wave of whispers rippling through the sea of people.

You felt your pulse quicken. You knew this was it.

Harry's eyes met yours again, and for a second, it was just the two of you.

You smiled, trying to steady your breathing.

“For those of you who don’t know, the amazing guitarist who’s been up here with me every night is also the love of my life, y/n.” Harry's words sent a surge of applause and cheers through the crowd.

You felt your cheeks flush, both from the warmth of the spotlight and the love that emanated from the audience.

“And we’ve got a little surprise for you all tonight,” Harry continued, his voice tinged with excitement. “You see, y/n and I are expecting a baby!”

The cheers grew louder, and you felt a wave of emotion wash over you.

The audience’s energy was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile even wider.

Harry waited for the noise to die down before speaking again. “Now, we thought long and hard about how we wanted to reveal the gender of our baby, and we decided there was no better place to do it than right here, with all of you."

"So, during the next song, when y/n plays the guitar solo, you’re going to see some fireworks. And when you do, the color of those fireworks will tell you if we’re having a boy or a girl.”

The crowd erupted again, this time with a mixture of excitement and anticipation.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

This was it.

You nodded at Harry, who gave you a reassuring smile, and then he turned back to the crowd.

“This is ‘Adore You,’” Harry announced, and the familiar notes began to fill the arena.

Your fingers moved over the strings, finding the melody with ease.

The song had always been special to you and Harry.

It was one of the first songs you had worked on together, back when your relationship was still new, still fragile.

Now, it felt like a full-circle moment, standing here with him, about to share the biggest news of your lives with thousands of people.

As the song built towards the solo, your nerves returned, but so did a deep sense of calm.

This was your moment.

You closed your eyes for a brief second, grounding yourself, and then you stepped forward, into the spotlight.

The world seemed to hold its breath as you played the opening notes of the solo.

The sound of your guitar echoed through the arena, each note carrying with it the weight of the moment.

The crowd fell silent, waiting, watching.

And then, as the solo reached its peak, the arena exploded in a dazzling display of color.

Fireworks shot into the sky, bursting into a shower of brilliant blue.

The crowd gasped in unison, and then the cheers began, louder than ever before.

You felt a wave of emotion crash over you, tears springing to your eyes as you played the final notes of the solo.

A boy.

You were having a boy.

Harry was beside you in an instant, his arms wrapping around you as the crowd continued to cheer.

You could feel him shaking, overwhelmed with emotion, just as you were.

You held onto each other, sharing the moment, as the blue fireworks continued to light up the sky above you.

Harry took the microphone again, his voice thick with emotion.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” he said, his words directed both to the audience and to you. “We can’t wait to meet our little fella, and we’re so grateful to have you all here with us tonight to share this moment.”

The crowd roared in response, and you felt another wave of tears threaten to spill over.

You glanced at Harry, who was looking at you with a mixture of love and awe.

It was a look you would never tire of.

As the final notes of "Adore You" faded into the night, Harry turned back to the audience.

“I think we’re going to need to play one more song after that,” he said with a laugh, and the crowd cheered in agreement.

But before you started the next song, Harry leaned in close to you, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“I love you,” he said, his eyes shining.

You smiled, your heart full. “I love you too,” you replied, and in that moment, everything else faded away.

It was just you, standing on stage, under a sky filled with blue fireworks, ready to welcome the next chapter of your lives together.

Harry turned back to the microphone, and the band launched into the next song, the energy in the arena electric.

You picked up the melody, your fingers moving effortlessly over the strings, but your mind was still on what had just happened.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the look on Harry's face when the fireworks had exploded in blue.

The pure, unfiltered joy, mixed with a touch of disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was all real.

As you played through the set, you found yourself sneaking glances at Harry, catching his eye whenever you could.

Each time, he would smile at you, that same look of love and awe in his eyes.

It was a look that told you everything you needed to know about your future.

You were going to be just fine.

More than fine—you were going to be a family.

The rest of the concert flew by in a blur of music and lights.

The crowd was more alive than ever, feeding off the energy of the night.

When the final notes of the last song echoed through the arena, the applause was deafening.

Harry and you stood side by side, looking out at the sea of faces, each one filled with love and joy.

It was a moment neither of you would ever forget.

As the band left the stage, Harry grabbed your hand, pulling you close.

“We did it,” he whispered in your ear, his voice filled with pride.

You smiled, your heart swelling with love for the man beside you. “We did,” you agreed. “And now, we get to do the next part.”

Harry grinned, his hand resting on your belly. “I can’t wait.”

Backstage, the rest of the band and crew congratulated you, the air filled with hugs and laughter.

Everyone was buzzing with excitement, still riding the high of the reveal.

You couldn’t stop smiling, your heart full to bursting.

Later that night, after the arena had emptied and the crew had packed up, Harry and you found yourselves alone in your dressing room.

The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving behind a warm, contented glow.

Harry sat down on the couch, pulling you down beside him.

“I still can’t believe it,” Harry said, his voice soft as he rested his hand on your belly. “A boy.”

You leaned into him, your head resting on his shoulder. “I know,” you said, your voice equally soft. “It feels like a dream.”

Harry kissed the top of your head, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your stomach. “It’s a dream I never want to wake up from,” he whispered.

You sat like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other, the excitement of the night giving way to a peaceful calm.

The future stretched out before you, bright and full of possibilities.

And as you sat there, in the quiet of the night, you knew that no matter what came next, you would face it together, as a family.

And that was all you needed.

[angelforstyles]

Lonely (together)

Series

About a lonely 21 years old girl

With a lonely 27 years old man

He falls in love with her, watching her without her knowing until he makes a move.

* for smut

Warning:

Daddy/Mommy issues, childhood trauma, sexual contact, a lot of firsts (first kiss, first sex, ets), Daddy kink. And a lot of sex of all kinds and kinks.

Mentions once: murder, weapons, suicide, and fosters.

P.S. English is not my first language, so please let me know if there is any mistake. Thanks!

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five *

Chapter Six *

Chapter Seven *

Chapter Eight *

Chapter Nine *

[harryssyndrome]

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒅𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒆!

Here’s my revised version of my older one. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆。

Everything on this list belongs to me so don’t you dare copy! Thx for stopping by!

Link here, is my wattpad account.

I take requests.

Last updated on 26/11/2024

Taglist is OPEN || Requests are OPEN

Currently looking for a co-writer for new story. Dm if interested!

Works with mature theme will be listed in red.

Treat People With Kindness!

SERIES 🐬°˖𓍢ִ໋ 🐋✧°

❀ 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐌𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

ᯓ ✈︎ Story Masterlist (On-Going)

𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐃

ᯓ ✈︎ Dystopian series coming soon!

ᴏʙsɪᴅɪᴀɴ

ᯓ ✈︎ coming soon!

ONE SHOT ˚🦋༘⋆🐬🧊

✈︎ Kinda Crazy

A crazy night adventure with Harry.

✈︎ Snow On The Beach

in which, Harry found his inspiration for his debut album.

✈︎ Hoax [requested]

“don’t want any other shade blue only you. No other sadness in the world would do…”

Summer feeling (coming soon)

Guilty As Sin? (coming soon)

One shot Series 🖌️💎🧢

Manic (Pt.2)

He may be a popstar but he’s also a manic the world doesn’t know.

✈︎ Darkness and You [au]

a late night drive takes an unexpected turn when an handsome stranger takes his place in your passenger seat.

Dadrry 🎐☁️❄️

✈︎ Best Brother Ever

In which, Alex Styles proves he is the best brother for his baby sister.

✈︎ Kiwi baby! 🥝

In which, Harry’s wife surprises him during ‘Kiwi’ with the best news ever.

✈︎ But Daddy I Love Him! (young!dad!harry one-shot coming soon)

✈︎ Our Little World (A documentary series coming soon!)

MORE COMING SOON!

Social media AUs 🫐🪁💙

✈︎ Night Changes

Childhood best friends to lovers.

Part 1

Alternate Universe 🐳🌀🩵

Someday (Coming Soon)

Red Key (coming soon)

Thank you so much for sticking around! ༝༚༝༚ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི 💋

[harrystylescherry]

A/N: wow, what amazing timing. let's pretend i did this on purpose. happy birthday, harry! fyi, this is vol. 2--you don't have to, but i rec reading vol. 1 first :)

*warning: spanking/paddling, mild pain, orgasm denial

what this is: pure smut tbh - vol. 2

word count: 5.5k

let me know what you think :)

MASTERLIST

It had been three agonizing days–three and a half if you were going to count this morning…and you were, because the ache between your legs and the need thrumming at your core was the only thing you could think about. 

Your boyfriend was punishing you in the worst way: orgasm denial. He’d work you and edge you until you were just on the brink of release, one…two…three times…then release you from the restraints, or pull you up from his lap, and go about his business. As if you weren’t a puddle of need, dripping between your thighs, angry and wanton and sorry. 

Because that was the whole point of this–for you to be sorry. To show you not to misbehave, or shirk direct orders. 

In your eyes, it was a minor infraction. He had left on a business trip for five days, and told you, explicitly, not to touch yourself, not for a teasing second, not to come. Then, he made sure to clarify that none of the sex toys at his place or yours were to be used either, knowing how much you loved a loophole. The two of you had been together for just over a year now, and you had taught him well to be specific and exact with his instructions. On more than one occasion, he’d tell you that you should’ve been a lawyer–a comment that was as much of a compliment as it was a chastising for being bratty and pushing his limits. 

The instruction was a punishment in itself, though he’d never admit to it. He wanted you to go with him, so between the stressful meetings and boring client calls, he could have moments of peace. He wanted to show you around a new city (though he’d only ever been there once before himself), discover hole in the wall eateries and dive bars together, fuck you in places not exactly meant for fucking, and, of course, have you on his arm for all the client dinners and drink-night-schmoozing he was expected to do. Unfortunately for him, you were only three months into your new job as an assistant editor/junior staff writer for The Wire, an indie music magazine based in London that mostly focused on independent artists and underground scenes. Were you cool enough for the job? Probably not, but you were open to anything and everything–your 134 very specific spotify playlists proof that you didn’t discriminate. 

The job was a lot of work, and you were busting your ass to prove to the close-knit team that ran it that you were worth keeping around. Your ninety-days of entry-probation had just ended. Taking time off wasn’t a good look (not that you had even racked up enough hours to take off an entire work week), and while working from home wasn’t off the table, you didn’t want it to seem like you didn’t want to be there. On the ground, toiling away at your tiny desk with the other two assistants and three interns. It was fun. You loved Harry, but your priorities right now were what they were. He understood it, though that didn’t mean he had to like it. And clearly, he didn’t, as evidenced by his very unfair and petty instruction. 

You had done well the first three days, despite the teasing texts and naughty photos meant to bait you–which is why you’d been so strong. He wasn’t going to trick you into breaking a rule. 

Day four was what broke you. You hadn’t heard from him all day (which only made you want the teasing and photos now that they were being withheld), you had stupidly started an erotic romance novel that was essentially 320 pages of pure (ungodly and delicious) fucking, and you were so stressed out from work that your body was begging for a release beyond what your favorite workout could give. 

You were just a girl. A horny, needy, sexually frustrated girl. It’s not your fault that the desperation was too strong for you to deny the call of the clit sucker you kept buried in your underwear drawer. It was society’s. 

In the moment, the rationalizing was totally sound. And in the moment, the orgasm was worth it. 

Then, Harry’s facetime came through only a few minutes after you’d come down, as if he had some sort of sixth sense when it came to your orgasms. 

“Hi,” you said after checking to make sure your hair was fine and the toy was safely tossed beneath your bed. 

His brow furrowed on the screen. “Hi, baby.”

“How’s your trip?” You settled into the pillows behind you. 

“Good,” he mumbled. His lips twitched. “Did you touch yourself today?”

“W-what?”

“You did, didn’t you?” His eyes narrowed. “When? Just now?”

You scoffed. “Harry, come on. Of course not. You said–”

“I know what I said. And I know that you didn’t listen.” His voice was stern and it sent a jolt to your core. 

“That’s–”

“Don’t lie to me. I know what you look like after–and it’s all over your face.”

Your cheeks flamed. You were caught. 

“It’s not my fault!”

You could see he was fighting off a smile–a devilish one. “Whose fault is it then?”

“I…” You didn’t really have an answer. 

“That’s what I thought.” You watched his jaw tick through the screen. “I’ll be home tomorrow night. I expect you to already be there when I do. Now, get cleaned up and go to bed.”

He ended the call before you could respond. No ‘goodnight’ or ‘I love you’. You were screwed…and not in the way you would’ve liked. So, feeling a little guilty, you moved into the bathroom, took a shower, and climbed beneath your covers at 9pm. 

The night he got home, he restrained you to the bed without a word. Flat on your back, with your limbs pulled to each respective corner of the bed, he teased your nipples with a paint brush, then your clit, until you were a squirming, writhing mess. Then it was over. He brushed a hand over your cheek and went to take a shower. 

Each night since, the edging had progressively gotten worse. 

You were aroused constantly. Getting through each work day felt like an impossible feat. All you could think about was the nights before–the pleasure in all the teasing–and then the pain in going without any relief. Unfortunately, that only made you wetter. 

You were a zombie through your morning meetings. You nodded when you were supposed to and took down notes just so you didn’t completely check out. You’d been staring at the commissioned article in front of you for almost forty-five minutes, not an edit made because you couldn’t tear your focus from the steady throb between your legs, when a text from Harry came through. 

Same time tonight. 

That’s all it said, though it didn’t need to say anything else. A shiver moved through you. Another night of torture. You held in the groan of frustration (with maybe a bit of anticipation), hoped that your punishment would be over tonight and white-knuckled through the rest of your day. 

You knocked on Harry’s door at exactly 8pm. No dinner together was part of the punishment, and so was not being able to use your key. Those were always part of the punishments, though, and served to remind you of your place in this area of your relationship–that you were not in control, could only come and go as much as he wanted you to, and all the other things that you already knew…and that you sometimes needed reminding of. 

When were you going to learn that being rebellious was fun until it wasn’t (though, punishments could still be kind of fun–not that you would ever tell Harry that)? 

It was a rhetorical question, since you had never exactly been one to submit without a fight.

“Little brat,” he said when he opened the door. “Straight to my room. Take your clothes off in the hall.”

No kiss hello, no smile, no sweetness–just like the last three nights. Maybe the punishments weren’t always fun. Your eyes went to the floor in shame as you went past him and up the stairs. He followed behind you, his footfalls even and sure. He leaned against the wall with his arms over his chest as you pushed your jeans to the floor and peeled off your t-shirt. 

When you went to move into the room, Harry tsked in disapproval. “You know better than that. Don’t make this worse for yourself, sub.”

Your entire body lit up with embarrassment. It was a mistake. You were nervous and anxious to get it over with, not thinking. You knew you weren’t getting a release tonight, could see it in his face, hear it in his voice. Your hands shook as you unclasped your bra, letting it drop to the floor, followed by your panties. 

“In the room, hands against the wall.”

You took a shaky breath and did exactly as he said. 

The thin paddle pressed against your bare ass when he came up behind you and your body clenched. You weren’t exactly a fan. He slid it down the back of your thighs and gave your skin a light tap. 

“Legs apart.” You obeyed and he hummed. “Keep your arms and legs straight, and eyes up.” You took a deep breath in preparation. The paddle came down on your ass and you flinched. “Do I need to repeat myself?”

“N-no, sir.”

“So, you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Whack.

There was no warning or warm-up. He took turns with each cheek, hitting hard and then easing up, so you never knew what to prepare for. At least he didn’t make you count them, not that you thought you could. You were too focused on not letting your knees buckle, fighting not to lean against the wall. 

It went on like that for a while, until the searing burn turned into the kind of sharp numbing that left you dripping. 

After what had to be at least twenty strikes, he dipped his hand between your thighs. Like always, shame slithered in; the embarrassment that all of this turned you on. It disappeared, like it always did, the second Harry made his sound of approval. That little hum that told you he was pleased, even though he wouldn’t vocalize it the way you wanted him too. It was a punishment, after all. 

He brushed his knuckles over your clit and you almost crumpled to the floor. You were so turned on, so needy, that the slightest touch was a straight shot to your core–electric. Two flicks of his fingers and you knew you’d come, which meant even more trouble. 

He touched you again and you hissed. 

“You don’t come. Not until I say.” As if you needed the reminder. 

“Yes…sir.” He chuckled at the breathiness of your voice. It was mean–and hot. He knew it, too. 

The paddle against your skin again, then his fingers moving through your slit. “Such a dirty girl,” he whispered. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to think about anything else besides the pleasure strumming at your core. His fingers were too skilled, they knew your body too well. 

Your left knee buckled–for less than a second–but he caught it. Goosebumps raised across your skin when you heard the three tsks from behind you. 

“I–”

“Shh…” 

You pressed your lips together, forcing the plea back down your throat. 

“On the bed.”

Silently, and with your head down, you walked on shaky legs to sit at its edge. Harry pushed your chest back so you laid down. 

“Don’t move.”

He walked to the wardrobe and pulled out the spreader bar. He strapped in each of your ankles so you couldn’t close your legs and then moved it up, so your knees were bent into your chest. Your breath was ragged and you fought to keep any whimpers from slipping out when he secured your wrists in the cuffs attached to the center of the bar. 

You couldn’t stretch your legs, couldn’t close them–couldn’t move. Completely open to him, you were in the perfect position for him to do whatever he wanted. 

He hummed as he moved back to the wardrobe, opening and closing drawers. He seemed to be making a decision. When he turned back to you, there was a smirk on his face. You took a deep breath when you saw the pink device in his hands. 

He pushed the curved vibrator into you, until the fit was perfectly snug. He made sure to position it so the pad pressed right against your already too-sensitive clit. Then, he went and sat in the armchair a few paces from the corner of the bed. 

It looked as though he was simply scrolling through his phone, his posture relaxed in the chair, head propped against his closed fist–but you knew better. He was making you sweat it out. You knew what was coming–and the wait was agonizing, just as he intended it to be. 

When it came–the sharp buzzing both inside and out–your whole body jerked. As he moved his thumb up and down his screen, the vibrations followed, growing stronger and then mellowing out. 

This was one of your favorite toys, except maybe not anymore. Holding back your orgasm was feeling closer and closer to impossible. Your hips bucked against the mattress, each attempt to get away from the intense vibrations futile. You wanted to cry–knew you would if this didn’t end soon. 

You uselessly struggled against the restraints, your legs trying to close on sheer instinct. The sounds that escaped you seemed more akin to those of an animal than a woman and your entire body was covered in a sheen of sweat. 

Without even thinking about it, you were begging. 

“Please, please, please.” Harry stayed silent. “S-sir, god, please!”

“No.”

The vibrations stopped and your body sagged in a false sense of relief now that the fight was over, though there was no [real] relief. He still refused to let you come.

The whining was involuntary. Each nerve ending was a live wire. If he touched you just once, just [barely] you’d explode. The squirming of your hips against the slick silicone was what pulled him up from his chair. He pulled the device from you, leaving you empty and aching. 

After releasing your wrists and ankles from the restraints, he patted the inside of your thigh. “Go take a shower.” 

That’s it. Nothing else. You felt the pressure behind your eyes as you stood from the bed. You nodded and whispered your “Yes, Sir” as you moved into the en suite. 

Your joints were sore from all your struggling, and all you wanted was a hug. It seemed his point had been made–at least in your opinion. You broke a direct order and then tried to lie about it. That was bad, you got it. Wouldn’t do it again. 

It wasn’t that you couldn’t take the punishment because you could. If not, you would’ve used your safe word. He only ever gave you as much as you could handle and you trusted him with your body entirely, without question. It was the lack of aftercare that was getting to you. During this punishment, he’d been doling out the bare minimum. All you’d gotten was maybe a kiss to the forehead and little love pats to your thighs. You were used to falling asleep in his lap, being wrapped up in a blanket, or being tucked into his side as he prepared you a snack or (upon request) ice cream sundaes. 

Under the hot water, you wiped the tears from your cheeks and let your body relax. You washed your hair and lathered your body using his products (ignoring the ones he kept for you on the shelf) since that was as close to him as he’d allow you to get this week. 

When you opened the shower door, he was standing there, waiting with a towel. “C’mere,” he said as he held it open for you. You stepped into him and he wrapped it around your body, then rubbed his hands up and down your arms. You snuggled as close to him as you could and he kissed the top of your head before saying, “Get dressed and I’ll take you home.”

You wanted to cry again, but didn’t. The punishment would end eventually, and you weren’t going to be weak about it. 

*

It was day four and you were so sexually frustrated, you wanted to cry. Literally. At this point, you were nothing more than a bundle of needy hormones. You had chosen to wear a dress into the office for no other reason than you wouldn’t have been able to deal with the seam of your jeans rubbing against your clit all day. Why torture yourself when Harry was already doing more than enough?

Halfway through your morning, you got a text from your boyfriend requesting that you go straight to his place from work. Thankfully, he couldn’t hear you sigh in annoyance. You didn’t want to be denied anymore. You were tired, and your body was still a little sore from the night before and you were mad at him. He never restrained you like that without some kind of massage afterwards. 

Each time you stood, your knees ached just a little and your hips had been stiff when you got out of bed this morning. Your body–and your brain–had had enough. 

You left work a little later than usual, staying to finish an edit that didn’t need to be done until Monday. The tube ride to his was spent trying not to work yourself up. You leaned back in your seat and listened to an album that your boss had been talking about all week, hoping to distract yourself. It worked until you were standing in front of his door. 

It opened without you having to knock and he smiled softly when he saw you. “Long day?”

So, apparently, you looked as tired as you felt. “I guess.”

He motioned for you to come in and, hesitantly, you did. He took your bags and set them in the entryway. 

“Help me finish dinner?”

Dinner. You tried not to get your hopes up that the punishment was over, but he was relenting. You’d take any allowance you could get at this point. 

“Sure.”

All that was really left to do was make the salad while he pulled everything out of the oven and set the table. 

“Go ahead and sit down,” he said as he took the bowl from in front of you. 

You took your seat and watched him move around the room, back and forth from the table with the roast chicken and sides, to the racks where he kept his wine. He poured you a glass and squeezed the back of your neck–a gesture that was both possessive and comforting. 

As you ate, he asked about work–the kinds of things you were working on, how you were settling in, etc. It was the most conversation the two of you had since he came home and it felt good. Almost too good. As much as you tried to fully relax back into your normal routine and dynamic, you couldn’t lose the last bit of tension in your shoulders. 

You wouldn’t be lured into a false sense of comfort–and Harry knew it too. He tried to hide his little half-smile, and if it were anyone else but you, it would’ve been missed but you knew him too well. 

When you put your napkin on the table signaling you were finished, he cleared the table without a word. He whistled along to the song playing throughout the main floor as you scrolled on your phone, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your attention. 

Really, you were in no place to be petty, but your nature was your nature. You flinched when you felt his hands on your shoulders, massaging into the knots that resided there for months, since the beginning of your new job. It was from stress that you didn’t necessarily mind, since you were doing something you loved. His fingers climbed up the back of your neck and into your hairline, pressing in soft circles. You hummed in satisfaction. 

“Is that good, baby?”

“Mhmm,” you said as your eyes fluttered closed. A quick tug to your hair pulled them open again. So, it was starting. “Yes, Sir,” you corrected, and were rewarded with more kneading at the base of your skull. 

“C’mon, we’re going upstairs.”

Your body buzzed with anticipation as you followed him up and into his room. He kissed your cheekbone as he passed in front of you to go to the wardrobe–the one that you’d come to see as the bane of your existence this last week. 

“Strip and lay on the bed for me.” You did as he said. All he returned with was a pair of soft handcuffs. Once your wrists were fastened together in front of you, he pushed your legs open and took a step back from the bed. 

“Hm.” He pulled his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger as he looked you over. “Pretty.”

The whimper was involuntary as you preened beneath his gaze. You could feel the pulse of your core. You were so sexually frustrated that it took nothing more than his approval for the desire to pool between your legs. The smirk on his face told you he could see it. 

“You didn’t listen to me,” he said as he stepped to the edge of the bed. He reached down and casually traced the outline of you, making sure to keep away from your clit and your center. “Why not?”

“I-I was horny, sir. You kept s-sending me–” You cut yourself off with a needy moan when Harry dipped his fingers in just enough to coat them with you. 

He spread it over your folds until the slickness touched your inner thighs. “Keep going.”

You took a shuddering breath and tried to focus. You also forced your hips to stay down, knowing that if you rocked yourself into his hand, he’d probably pull away. You couldn’t risk that, not when he was being so nice. “You kept sending me texts and photos o-of yourself–oh, god–and telling me all these…things.” 

He brushed his fingers through your folds as you spoke, skirting around the bundle of nerves perfectly primed to set you off. 

“So?”

“So, it made me want you and you weren’t there.”

“So?” He pushed a finger inside and your back arched off the bed. “Eyes open,” he said when they fluttered shut. 

“So, it wasn’t nice. You were teasing me–torturing me on purpose. It wasn’t fair that I had to wait and you didn’t.”

“Life isn’t fair.”

“I–”

“You hate when I say that, I know.” He pushed a second finger inside and you moaned. Your hips tilted forward on their own, seeking out something–anything–for relief. 

He removed his fingers. When he brushed his wet knuckles over your clit, a strangled cry replaced the disappointed sigh that escaped you. 

“Is that what you want, baby?”

You whined and wriggled on the mattress while he held his knuckles just out of reach. 

“Is it?”

“Yes, Sir. Please.” 

“I didn’t get off while I was gone.”

“Okay,” you panted, as you fought your own neediness. 

Harry slapped your clit and you cried out. “Listen to me. I did not get off while I was gone.”

“What? But you–”

“I know, the torture is the point. The teasing. I thought you would’ve learned this by now.” Another brush over your clit. Another moan. “That rule was for both of us. Did you think I wasn’t in agony? Each time you answered or sent a photo in return it took everything in me not to wrap my hand around my cock, but I have some self-control. I have patience. And I understand that whatever pleasure I could give myself wouldn’t compare to the kind I could get from you.”

When you whimpered this time, it wasn’t with need, but shame. You may have felt a little bad about breaking the rule now, and not just because it meant a little disappointment and a punishment. This was a big disappointment, you could hear it in his tone. It wasn’t just breaking a simple rule, but ruining something that was supposed to be good for the both of you. Granted, in your defense, he could’ve told you that, but you also knew why he didn’t: he shouldn’t have had to. 

“Sir, I’m really sorry.”

“I bet you are.” He gave your clit a pinch that sent a flash of heat over your entire body. “I should make you wait another week. Edge you every night until you're begging for my cock, and then still not give it just so we’re even.”

“I–”

“Quiet.” He grabbed your hips and pulled you further down the bed. He placed his knee on the mattress, positioning his thigh only an inch from your clit. “You want to come so badly, go ahead.”

Your brow lifted in surprise. “What?”

“Go ahead, come. You have my permission, but I’m not helping you. You want it, take it, or I’ll uncuff you, and you can get dressed so I can take you home.”

“Sir–”

“You’ve got less than a minute before I dress you myself.” The hard edge to his voice told you he wasn’t kidding. Not in the slightest.

You looked from the stern set of his face down to his jean-clad thigh. When you looked back at your boyfriend, his jaw was set. He didn’t move or say a word. 

Your entire body heated with something close to embarrassment, but it was also mixed with anticipation, shame, and need. You didn’t want to go home, you wanted to get off and if this was all he was offering, you’d have to take it. Especially since, if you didn’t, you’d be in even more trouble with him. You didn’t need him to say it to know. 

You planted your heels into the mattress and closed the gap between you two. When you lifted your hips, your clit brushed against the rough material and you groaned. You rolled your hips against his thigh and cursed. It felt so good. You knew it wouldn’t take you very long to cum. The only thing stopping you from instantly falling over the edge was the fact that you could only get close enough for a light brushing–there was no pressure. The only real friction came from the coarse fabric–but it would be enough. More than enough. 

Your abs and thighs burned as you held your hips up, and with every rock of your hips, the muscles in your stomach contracted with the effort. This was its own kind of punishment, you realized. He was making you work for it. 

You had kept your eyes locked on his stiff cock pushing against the front of his jeans, not sure if you wanted to know how exactly he was looking at you. 

“That’s it, baby.” 

But, of course, all it took was that little bit of praise to get your attention. The sternness was still there, but there was also heat. He wanted you–and he seemed to love seeing you like this: needy and unbelievably desperate. Because that’s what you were. Getting your release was all you could think of. 

You wanted something to hold onto, to grip onto the blankets beneath you for more stability, but you couldn’t do it with your wrists handcuffed together. You whined with the realization. 

“I know.” The comfort was full of condescension, and you wished it didn’t turn you on even more, but it did. 

You were sweating from exertion, but you were so close. 

“C’mon, baby. Rub yourself on my thigh. I can feel how wet you are, my dirty girl.” 

You looked down to see for yourself. Where you rubbed yourself was a much darker shade of blue. Your head fell back with a moan. 

In an act of undeserved kindness, Harry pressed his thigh against you, offering you the most delicious kind of friction; the kind that almost hurt. 

It was only another second before you were tumbling over the edge. You came so hard that stars erupted behind your eyes, and your skin felt white hot. You were sure you cursed and cried out his name but you were so detached from reality that you couldn’t know for sure. 

He didn’t wait for you to come down from the high. He undid the fastening of his jeans before leaning over and uncuffing your wrists. “Up.” He walked to the right side of the bed and took a seat. “Come and sit on my cock.”

Still in somewhat of a daze, you did as he said. As soon as he pulled his length from the confines of his jeans, you straddled his hips and sank down. 

“Fucking hell,” he groaned. He gripped your waist and guided your hips, holding you down so he was fully sheathed. 

You ignored the harsh rubbing of material against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and focused on how good it felt to feel him inside of you. 

“You’re gonna come again,” he said before sucking on your neck, leaving a mark that you hoped would be gone by the time you had to go back to the office after the weekend. 

You whimpered, not entirely confident you had it in you. Your clit was overstimulated and raw from the week’s torture. “It’s going to hurt.”

“I know. You’ll do it anyway.”

When his voice was that deep and raspy, so commanding, who were you to argue?

“Yes,Sir.”

He pulled you far enough away that he could dip down and lick your peaked nipples. He sucked and nibbled until your chest and cheeks were red hot with the building of another orgasm. 

“Oh, god.” You gripped the collar of his t-shirt. 

He hummed against your skin. “That’s it. Keep going.” He held you tight enough that you wouldn’t be able to disconnect your clit from where it rubbed against the base of him even if you wanted to–and you were really walking that line. It was almost unbearable, the pleasure only a hair away from pain. 

When he tilted his hips to hit that special spot inside, the tension ripped loose. You dug your nails into the muscle of his shoulders as your body shook against his, your hips rocking frantically, both chasing the high and trying to get away from it. 

“Fuck,” he groaned into your neck as he emptied himself inside you. With a strong arm wrapped around your waist, he kept you riding him through both of your orgasms as your body filled with exhaustion. 

He peppered kisses over your chest, shoulders, neck and jaw until you felt him go soft, still tucked inside. You were close to falling asleep on his chest when he pulled out and lifted you up into his arms. 

“Shower first,” he whispered before kissing the top of your head and carrying you into the en suite. He set you on the counter and disappeared.

He came back with a cold glass of water, which you took happily. He turned the shower on, pulled two towels from the wardrobe and set them on the fancy warmer before returning to you. His hands moved from your shoulder to cup your face and he leaned in to kiss you. 

“You did well this week, love.”

“It sucked.”

He laughed. “It was supposed to.” Another peck to your lips and he helped you down. “Go ahead.”

You stepped into the shower and watched through the quickly fogging glass as he stripped. The second he stepped in you were glued to him, your head to his chest and his arms around your waist. 

You only pulled apart when he washed you. His hands moved over your body, soft and soapy, digging into the muscles he had neglected the nights before. 

“I think I owe you a massage or two.”

“Try three–at least.”

He kissed your hip from his spot beneath you. When he brought his hand up to wash between your legs, you flinched. 

“Sore?”

“A little numb, actually. Wasn’t even expecting that to hurt.” 

He kissed right above your mound. “Sorry, love. I’ll be gentle.”

He finished his task and you took over, doing the same for him. Despite his hardening length, he didn’t try to touch you again, or ask you to help him relieve what must have been a lot of pent up frustration. Instead, he held your face in his hands and kissed you, murmuring soft I love yous in between. 

After toweling each other off, he turned down the covers, put on Sleepless in Seattle and promised to make you blueberry pancakes in the morning.

[loveyougoodbye5]

Harry Styles - morning kisses

You're snuggled up in Harry's arms as the sun rises. Waking up, you stretch, and he makes the cutest little squeak as he wakes up. You tilt your chin up and kiss his jawline. He opens his eyes sleepily.

"What time is it?"

You giggle, pulling him closer to you. "I don't know, don't really care. How'd you sleep?"

"Amazingly, love. How about you?"

You shrug, and he wraps his arms around you.

"Pretty well."

He kisses your forehead and then your nose. You tilt your chin up to talk to him.

"Can you kiss me?"

My grin grows wider, and I roll over and crawl over to you

"Of course I can. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't?" He says as he kneels next to you on the bed, his hands gently framing your face as he leans in to kiss you.

You reach up and wrap your arms around his neck. He looks down into your eyes, smiling.

"You are so cute, you know that?"

He doesn't even bother to let you answer before he leans down, kissing your top lip first, then your bottom, before he places his whole mouth on yours. You pull him down closer to you, and kiss him harder.

He lets out a low hum of satisfaction as you pull him down on top of you. He presses down against your body to kiss you deeper. One of his hands slides down so that he can intertwine his fingers with yours. His tongue flicks out against your bottom lip, asking for entry.

You part your lips slightly, humming softly. You squeeze his hand and he squeezes it back.

He gently caresses your tongue. His breathing starts to get heavier, but he doesn't pull away. I love the sensation of kissing you like this, and he loves how your hand feels in his. His leg is tangled with one of yours, and he shifts his hips to get a little more comfortable and so his weight isn't all on you.

He pulls away, looking down at you.

"Gotta love a good kisser."

"I suppose so. I love you, and you're a good kisser, so..."

He kisses you once more before rolling off of you and pulling his shirt on.

"Gotta get ready for the day and all. See you later, baby."

[daaydreamy]

lipstick

summary: harry gets marked up everywhere.

warnings: coarse language, smut, f/f/m threesome, handjob, edging

pairing: fem!oc x harry styles x fem!reader

•••

“You’re so cute.”

Harry was gasping and fucking up into Y/N’s hand, feeling her lips and her friend’s pressing against his skin over and over. His head was thrown back and his cheeks were so prettily pink, Y/N couldn’t help but press a kiss to one of them. The way his body would react to their touch was so mesmerizing, so addictive, and they wanted to toy with him for hours non-stop.

They had been edging him for quite a while now, chuckling softly whenever he would whine and plead for more and to let him come. It was so fun watching him grow more and more desperate as the time ticked by, adoring his soft and stuttery ‘please’s’ and ‘oh’s’. There were so many kiss marks all over his skin now, in two different shades. One was Y/N’s and one was her friend’s, or who everyone called Evangeline. He was like goo, so malleable, all melted from their touch.

“Please?” He said breathily. He wasn’t even sure what he was asking for at that point, his brain all messed up. He looked so pretty while he was all fucked out, pupils blown wide and lips so kissable they were irresistable.

“Beg.”

“Please.” He whined, Y/N smiled so bright. “Please let me come. I’ll- I’ll be so good.” He pleaded desperately, “I promise.” He then added on.

“You promise?” Evangeline chuckled softly, slowly inching her hand closer and closer to Harry’s neglected cock, which was pitifully leaking and throbbing against his stomach. He nodded with a quiet ‘yes’ and she hummed, gently running the tip of her nail along the length of his cock, making him whimper from the barely enough stimulation. Y/N’s own fingers were toying with his sensitive nipples, pinching and tugging gently.

“You think you deserve it?” Y/N asked, lightly digging her thumbnail into his nipple and his cock jerked, more precum spilling from his tip while he let out a small whine.

“Yes, yes, please? I’ve been so good.” He said, his voice slowly fading once Evangeline finally wrapped her hand around his cock, a soft and relieved sigh slipping past his lips.

a/n: who’s evangeline?

🏷: @crow-i-guess, @planetflos, @harrycanyonmoonn, @bxtchboy69, @sweet-as-lilacs, @lyricalniall, @venusincleo (couldn’t tag you!), @bxbun111, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @emispleased, @goldenhrry, @cinnamongirlrry, @manifestrry, @niallhoranshotgf, @sad1esgf, @taylorsreputationsversion, @violetsandfluff, @purplefishingline, @a-strange-familiar, @moonlightbea-33 (couldn’t tag you!), @famedrs-blog, @coochiesteak, @blahblahblah-888 (couldn’t tag you!), @milesisntdonewritingyet, @cherrycoucou18 (couldn’t tag you!), @alexxavicry, @harrysgoth, @theroosterswife24, @cinnamonlola, @youcan-nolonger-run

[kilistina]

friends, right? pt.1

word count: 3k-ish

disc. nsfw content ahead. mdni. includes fem!reader n harry styles, teasing, thigh riding, best friend vibes n other hot shit.

•••

You and Harry had been best friends for about two years now. You met at a coffee shop, weirdly enough. You were late for work and you’d spilled your drink on the ground, he was one of the first people to come and help you. Gave you his untouched drink too, because he realised you wouldn’t have time to order yourself a new one.

“No, I can’t take that. It’s yours.”

“Haven’t had any of it yet, so you’re safe.”

You remembered his kindness when you went home that day. The way he smiled at you and just gave you his drink as if it was nothing. As if he wasn’t in a rush himself that day. His looks weren’t all that bad either.

You both bumped into each other at the same coffee shop a few weeks later, and you were once again in a rush because you were late for work. You didn’t spill your drink everywhere this time though, and that was progress enough for you.

Harry recognised you instantly and of course, you were flattered.

“You’re that girl who spilt her coffee over here, aren’t you, Red?”

“I am, yeah. And Red? Where did that come from?”

“Your lipstick that day—it was red.”

From that moment on, the nickname stuck. He still calls you Red to this day—normally when he’s teasing you about something or he’s trying to make a point.

“Suits you by the way, the red lipstick.”

Even though you were late for work that day, you stayed and engaged in small talk with this complete stranger. You spoke for a few minutes, exchanged numbers and started talking more. There was never any intent with your texts, you were just two adults who became friends under bizarre circumstances. You started seeing each other more often, mingling with each other’s friend groups and you’d quickly grown closer.

Whenever you’d have boy trouble, you’d call him and he’d help you out. Whenever you were about to go on a date and you needed a male opinion on your outfit,  or you needed a wingman on a night out, he was the first person you’d call. He got along with all of your grilfriends as well, mainly because they were all insanely attracted to him.

One way or another your friends would always make a point of mentioning how hot Harry was to you, as if you didn’t know it already. You were questioned about him more times than you could count, and about your friendship.

“Friendship? That’s it? Really?”

“There’s no way you two haven’t necked on yet.”

“Friends with benefits, surely.”

“Come on, you’ve at least thought about it.”

You love your friends. Really, you do. But when it comes to Harry, all they want is to see you with him. And you’re flattered. Of course you are—have you seen Harry?

But when there’s a constant pressure of ‘will they, won’t they’ between two people and their friend groups, it gets awkward.

Neither of you want to admit it, but it’s gotten awkward. You still see each other as often as you ever did in the past, but you both know that something’s changed. Whether it’s the feelings you both share for each other, or it’s just the outside pressure from your other friends—something’s changed. But neither of you are ready to admit it yet.

So here you were, staying at Harry’s place for a movie night. You haven’t had a night like this in a while. You’d both been so busy with work that you’d barely had any time to rewind, so now seemed like the perfect time since you were both finally free for a weekend.

The night went well—as always. You both watched your favourite films and snacked on whatever you could find. You had a few drinks but nothing to get you too buzzed, you laughed and you caught up with each other. Two typical best friends, right?

Now came the awkward part—sleeping arrangements.

Normally you’d both just sleep in Harry’s bed. It was huge. Big enough to fit you both and a few other people too. It’d never been an issue in the past and you’d never made it awkward, but since it’d been a while since you last stayed the night at his place, it was. Felt unnatural, in a way, since it’d been so long. Your friends had gotten into your heads too, which didn’t help.

You were brushing your teeth in Harry’s bathroom when you noticed him through the mirror, grabbing a pillow off his bed.

You spit your toothpaste into the sink and rinse your mouth out before leaning over the opening between the bathroom and his room, "Where are you going?"

"To the living room,” He looks over at you with furrowed brows, “Why? Is something wrong?"

You chuckle and shake your head, making your way to his bed and jumping in it, "You can sleep in your own bed, you know."

He eyes you for a moment and shrugs, "You're in it, though."

"We're both adults, Harry. Two adults can sleep in the same bed without making it weird." You sigh and sit up to lean against the headboard.

“I know we wouldn’t make it weird,” He motions between you both, “But what would the others think?”

“Who said we’d tell them?”

He smiles at your words and clearly doesn’t need any more convincing. Within a second he’s taking his shirt and joggers off, leaving him in nothing but his boxers—something he’s always done before bed, you’d seen it plenty of times before. He comes and sits on his side of the bed, leaning his back against the headboard like you.

“Feel like a joint?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you and reaches over to his bedside table to grab his lighter, “I feel like a joint.”

“I brushed my teeth, H.”

“So did I.”

You scrunch your face up in thought for a moment, even though you know what you’re about to say, “Yeah fuck it, go on.”

Harry chuckles and nods his head, as if he isn’t surprised in the slightest by your response. He grabs a perfectly rolled joint from his bedside—they’re always perfectly rolled, it’s a hidden talent, you think—and he places it between your lips before lighting it for you.

Something you’ve always loved about Harry is that he’s never done something before you. For instance, right now he’s letting you have the first puff of his blunt. He’s the same with cigarettes too—he always hands you one before he takes one out for himself. Always hands a drink to you before he takes a sip from his own. Always makes sure you have food in front of you before he eats his own.

So this definitely isn’t anything out of the ordinary for him. It isn’t weird or strange or awkward that he’s giving you the joint first. Normally that would be completely innocent and there’d be no awkwardness in the air, no tension. But now everything’s changed. You don’t know why, or how, but it has.

You try and ignore it for a moment and take a few puffs of the joint, closing your eyes and letting yourself enjoy it. You can feel Harry’s eyes on you so you keep your own closed for a little longer than you need to.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you’re nervous.

After a few seconds you take the joint between your fingers and hand it back over to Harry while you exhale. Your fingers brush against each other for a moment as he takes the blunt from your hand. Again, completely innocent. But somehow still awkward. Harry clears his throat before he takes the joint in his mouth.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s nervous too.

You both sit in silence for a few minutes, sharing what’s left of the joint between you without saying a word. Comfortable silence. Although, nothing about this is comfortable to you.

“Isn’t it weird?” You murmur, finally speaking up.

“Isn’t what weird?” Harry keeps his eyes in front of him as he inhales another puff.

“How awkward this is,” You turn your body to face him, crossing your legs as he tilts his head to look at you, “Our friendship’s just gone weird, don’t you think? We’ve let everyone get in our heads about stuff and it’s gone awkward.”

“You’re right,” He chuckles, exhaling and handing the joint back over to you, “It’s well awkward now.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” You shrug, “We can go back to the way we were before everyone started planning our wedding.”

He laughs a second time, finally looking into your eyes for more than a second, “Don’t think we can, love.”

“Why not?”

He breaks the eye contact. You hand him the joint.

“Cause we both—dunno, it’s like we both kinda..you know.” He trails off and scratches the back of his head. He puts what’s left of the joint out on the ashtray by his bedside table and clears his throat.

“I might be able to figure out what you mean when we’re both sober, H, but I’m gonna need you to spell shit out for me right now.” You scoff.

He purses his lips together and thinks for a moment before speaking, “I dunno, I feel like we’re both at a point now where we’re contemplating doing something.”

“What? What do you mean by something?” You’re completely lost at this point.

“You know..” He raises his eyebrows as if that’s going to help you understand, “Something..together.”

Your face drops.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

You raise your eyebrows, taken by surprise, “No I, I genuinely haven’t, H.”

“Shit,” Harry’s eyes widen slightly in regret, “Neither have I, then. Forget I ever said that.”

You stay silent for a moment, about to listen to him and forget what he just said. But you can’t. You don’t want to forget that.

“What have you thought about?” You ask, feeling confident.

“Nothing, Y/N, just drop it.” He murmurs and stands up from the bed, walking to the bathroom and grabbing a headband to pull his hair back. You watch him as he places the fabric between his shoulder length curls.

“Oh come on don’t be an ass,” You tease him with a smirk as he starts to walk back over to you, “This is a safespace, H. No judgements.”

He inhales sharply, “Feel like it’s weird to talk about now.”

“It’s only weird if you make it weird.”

“Well I’ve made it weird, then.” He sighs and sits back down on the bed, facing you.

“Harry..c’mon,” You prod, sitting up again and pouting your bottom lip at him, “It’s going to eat away at me if you don’t give me an idea of what you meant. Ballpark, even. I don’t need details.”

You notice him arch his eyebrow as he contemplates whether he should tell you or not. You’re tempted to speak up again to convince him but you decide against it, knowing he’ll probably tell you anyway.

“Fine, fuck it,” He sighs, now mustering up the confidence to tell you everything you want to know, “I’ve thought about being with you.”

“Being with me?” You furrow your brows, “Being with me how?”

“In more ways than one,” He scoffs, “On the couch, over the counter, at work, in public,” He starts listing off places, the words falling from his mouth as his eyes rake over where you’re sitting, “Fuck, even right here.”

His eyes are set on you. He means what he said.

Your face starts to heat up and you swear you’re dreaming. There’s no way Harry just said that. There’s no fucking way. There’s no way he just—

“No judgement, yeah Red?” Harry’s voice brings you back from your brief overthinking, “Looks like there’s a whole lot of it coming from you right now, Y/N.”

“I’m not—“ You clear your throat, feeling flustered, “I’m not judging you, I’m just—”


“Feeling weird?” He finishes your sentence for you, sighing, “Told you it was fucking weird, love.”

Surprisingly, he doesn’t look like he regrets telling you. You’d expect him to be acting awkward, like he was before. But he’s actually acting the opposite. He doesn’t look like he feels awkward or weird, even though he just admitted how weird this situation really is. It’s like a weight’s been lifted off his chest and he’s more relaxed now. You can’t help but feel more relaxed too.

You’re not sure if it’s the weed, the drinks you had earlier, or Harry’s confession—or all of it, even—but something in your attitude towards Harry has changed.

You can see yourself with him—in more ways than one.

His features are standing out to you now more than ever. It’s like you’re meeting him for the first time again in that same old coffee shop. The curve of his eyebrows, the pink tint of his lips, the perfect shade of green in his eyes, his curls that show through even when he’s got them held back by a bandana, the faint lines of his dimples..

“Red?”

You blink and notice Harry staring at you with furrowed brows, “Everything okay, love?”

“Shut up, H.” You murmur a reply and before you know it, your lips are on his. You don’t know how you somehow mustered up the courage—and the stupidity—to do this, but you did. You’ve finally made your move.

You’re kissing Harry, and he isn’t stopping you. He’s kissing you back.

You can tell he’s a little hesitant for the first few seconds, as if he’s waiting for you to pull away and apologise for acting on impulse. You don’t.

You keep kissing him, with more urgency than before. Once he realises that you’re not planning on stopping, he leans forward to feel you closer. Your lips are working each other at the perfect pace, your hands reaching up into Harry’s curls while he holds onto the sides of your waist. He takes your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging it back as you moan softly into his mouth. He smirks against your lips and slips his tongue into your mouth—you welcome it with your own.

You lean over and lift your leg to straddle his lap, needing to feel more of him. As much as you physically can. You both pull away from each other, not wanting to but needing to so you can catch your breath. You rest your foreheads together and take a second to regain your composure.

Did that really just happen?

“How long have you wanted to do that?” Harry whispers, his forehead against yours. Your eyes are still closed but you can hear the smirk on his face.

“God H, shut the fuck up.” You murmur, leaning forward to close the gap between you again.

Instead of feeling his lips against yours, you feel one of his fingers and your eyes open.

“You said you never thought about me like that, didn’t you Red?” He prods, smirking as you let out a whine.

“Just did,” You narrow your eyes, giving him attitude, “That alright with you?”

He looks down at your lips, nodding slowly as he leans forward and finally closes the gap between you both. As much as you don’t want to feed into his ego, you can’t help yourself. You need to feel him—more than you already are.

Without a second thought, you start to rock your hips against his. He lets out a moan against your lips and lowers his hands from your hips to your ass, guiding your movements and pushing you against him harder. You can feel all of him at this point—the thin fabric of your shorts and his boxers being the only things standing between you. God, you’ve wanted to feel him like this for so long and you didn’t even realise.

You’re so wet, so worked up, that you can’t contain yourself any longer. You can barely kiss Harry back from how good you’re feeling, grinding your bodies against each other.

He lifts one of his hands from your ass, cupping your face with it and looking into your eyes, “You trust me, Red?”

You nod, unable to speak.

He smirks and lifts you up, repositioning you so that you’re only stradlding one of his thighs now. It doesn’t take you long to figure out what he wants you to do.

“Want you to ride my thigh,” His voice is low, “Think you can do that for me?”

You let out a moan, nodding again and beginning to move your hips. Harry’s hands hold onto you, stopping your movements.

“Words, love. Need to hear you say it.” He prods you for a verbal reply and you whine, feeling desperate already.

“Yes.” You force out the word, speaking through your teeth. His smirk only grows.

Asshole.

“Cute attitude, love,” He smirks at you, knowing he has the upper hand, “Try again.”

You drop your head down onto his shoulder, not wanting to give in but knowing that you have no choice if you want to feel him against you again.

You let out a shaky breath, “Yes, you asshole.”

He chuckles, still not satisfied.

You whine, “Yes, H. God, fucking yes. Let me ride your thigh, please.” You beg, keeping your eyes closed to avoid seeing the smirk on his face.

“Take these off for me.” He whispers, pulling on the hem of your satin shorts. You open your eyes.

“Take them off yourself.” Your whisper back, earning a smirk from him. He does as you say, pulling your shorts and your panties down in one movement. You move to the side to let him pull them off of you, leaving you completely bare from the waist down.

Without a second thought, you take your satin shirt off too, leaving you in your bra. You’re about to reach behind your back to unclasp it but Harry’s hand stops you. He bites his lip and reaches behind you himself, undoing the clasp with one hand as he pulls you in for another kiss. You sigh against his mouth as you feel him pulling your bra straps down your arms, the cold air hitting you in all the right places.

He stays silent, beginning to move your hips against his thigh and taking the view of you in for himself. You suck in a breath, lifting your head up from his shoulder and opening your eyes. He’s looking at you with so much lust, so much desire that you honestly couldn’t care less about his ego—you need him. All of him.

“Fuck, yeah,” He sighs, letting his head fall back against the headboard, “Just like that, Y/N.”

You reach one of your hands behind him on the headboard, using it as support. His reactions are only getting you more worked up, and you start to quicken your movements. He groans and loosens his grip on your hips, letting you control your own pace now that you’re gaining the control back. He lifts his head to look down at where you two connect—at the mess you’re making of him.

“That feel good?” He whispers, looking back up at you innocently. You bite your lip to control the moans leaving your mouth, but it’s no use. Looking down at Harry when he looks as innocent as he does now, doing something as dirty as what he’s doing, will never cease to amaze you.

He’s letting you use him. He’s letting you use him for your pleasure. Letting you get yourself off on his thigh. He’s your toy.

And he’s so fucking pretty.

You close your eyes from how good you’re making yourself feel, unable to control yourself. He just feels so fucking good.

“Your eyes,” His voice is hoarse and full of authority, “Open them.”

You don’t listen. You keep your eyes closed.

“I said,” Harry speaks through gritted teeth, grabbing a hold of your jaw to make you look at him, “Open.”

You do as he says this time, struggling to keep quiet. Seeing him like this is something you didn’t know you wanted so bad. You had no idea he was so..hot. So dominant.

So fucking condescending.

•••

read pt.2 here <3

aaaanddd there it is. this idea’s been on my mind for so long and i’m personally such a whore for thigh riding and friends to lovers vibes so this was a no brainer. i hope y’all enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it <3

if you liked what you read then please reblog n comment. feel free to suggest ideas for new posts too.

have a good day or night wherever you are n stay safe <3

- k

[daisyblog]

No Complaints

Our Story Masterlist Summary: A fan catches a moment between Harry and YN, where she turns something innocent to sexual.

based on a tiktok between a fan and Harry (link in comments)

Harry was stood at the front of the stage, the microphone steady in his hand as he was about the place it back on the stand. Nyoh was standing next to him, the guitar heavy in her hand as she waited for Harry to perform the next song.

YN was stood on the floor area at the side of the stage. Close enough Harry could see her, but slightly away from the crowded barrier area.

Harry looked to his left to see YN standing there next to Jeff and Brad. YN had woken with a headache that morning and despite her insisting that she was fine now that she had taken a paracetamol, Harry couldn’t resist checking in on his girlfriend.

Catching YN’s eye, Harry brought the mic up to his lips so she could hear him. “YN? How’s your head?”.

Before Harry had chance to add anything to his question, YN voice shouted across the way filling the ears of everyone between them. “Never had any complaints!”.

Instantly Harry eyes widened as he realised the sarcastic response he had from YN. But whilst Harry shook his head with an amused grin, YN wore a bit smirk, very satisfied with the reaction she got from the screaming crowd and Harry’s blushed cheeks.

“Oh my god! That my friends is YN in a nutshell!”.

Tag List:

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats@harrysbbyh0ney @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r  @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @panicattheuc @or-was-it-just-a-dream @hittiesontour@bunnyharold @fanfictioncafe @lilfreakjez @iamahallucinationnn @theekyliepage @indierockgirrl@buckybarnessimpp @ashleighsss @jerseygirlinca @fake-coolbeans @itsmytimetoodream@treehouse-mouse @mrs-anna-styles211994 @macy-tpwk @mrs-anna-styles211994

[bonesandchalamet]

welcome to the final show - h.styles

masterlist

pairings: harry styles x reader!

warnings: fluff

a/n: in my depressed era now that tour is over ☹️

it’s over. it’s somehow a bittersweet ending that for some reason, you never saw actually coming to an end. he’s exhausted, but his heart has never been so full seeing his fans send the love right back to him night after night, and this one seems to get to him more.

family, friends, team members, band members, and even celebrity guests all approach his sweaty body first. fist bumps, high fives, and hugs are all he knows for the next couple of minutes, until the crowd of loved ones part like the sea to reveal you. a kiss would be nice, he thinks to himself. after all, it’s the second most magical thing he could experience after his final performance.

“you did such a good job, h.” you launch your body into his. the smell of his heightened body odor doesn’t bother you in this moment. you just press yourself further into him before pulling away and giving him what he wants. a kiss.

“you enjoy it?” he asks like it’s a ever question. every moment of each show was more than enjoyable, so when he sees you roll your eyes he knows. he knows you loved every second until it was over.

“go get changed.” you point in the direction of his dressing room, and it hits him. the emptiness in his gut appears once again attempting to swallow him. this was over. the performing would actually stop and he could have a break. you can already see the wheels turning in his head, he’s wondering what he’ll do with his free time. he’s never had this much of it since COVID.

“what if I want to stay in this?” he gestures to the gold fringe suit he’s wearing, the vest showing off his beautiful abs and butterfly tattoo. one of his best outfits, you thought to yourself when you saw him enter the stage.

“I won’t mind that.” you smile, cheeks hurting so badly from the whole night of doing so, but you still press on watching his eyes light up at your approval.

you know why he doesn’t want to take it off. it’ll be like admitting the best thing thats ever really happened to be over. that him hearing his fans scream when the lights drop, sing his lyrics back to him, and dance to his songs will be over. the joy he brought to millions upon millions would finally stop. for the first time, he could fly home and have no where else to be later.

“I bet he’ll sleep like a baby tonight.” Anne wraps her arms around your shoulders, a tight smile on her lips and tear stained cheeks that match yours. she’s proud of her sons accomplishments, but she knows he’s ready to go home. she knows he’s ready to sleep in your arms for hours upon hours.

you nod in agreement watching him trot off to Lloyd, his camera hung around his neck showing the band members his photography of the night.

“I got this picture of you, y/n.” Lloyd’s eyebrows wiggle in a mischievous way, harry taps his shoulder with his index finger begging to show him already.

“calm down!” Lloyd laughs, his thumb clicking through the photos until it stops and settles on, what you believe, is an image of you.

harry takes the camera in his hands, a small smile forms on his lips as he stares long and hard at the picture. it’s like if he blinks the image of your visibly tears streaming down your cheeks, bright smile, and pink boa would all go away.

“I love this picture, can you print it out for me?” harry taps the small screen, and he talks with Lloyd like you’re not there. the camera gets passed around to band members again, and your image fades with the millions of other ones.

“was it a good picture?” you ask him when he’s finally moved on from the group and back over to you.

“darling, the best picture ever. going to have it framed forever.” he presses his lips against your temple, arms wrapping around your body, and once again you’re pulled into his sweaty body.

“going to have this night framed for ever as well. it was one for the books.” you watch him nod, arms wrap tighter around you for a second, “now let’s go home, h.”

“I couldn’t have agreed more, let’s go home.”

[0oolookitsme]

i really really loved baby it's cold outside. the blushiness had me squealing can we has more pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee<3

Burning Up

You sent this request in long, long ago, bestie anon, and I just hope that you'll see and enjoy reading this fic!! I'm sorry for taking so long! I just wanna tell you that this fic has equal amounts of blushiness as 'baby it's cold outside', so it only felt right to attach your ask to this!

Verse - Dwd!Harry x Dwd!Y/n

Word Count - 2.0k

Warnings - Mentions of puke, fever, and passing out.

Harry is sick, and Y/n is panicking because she isn't quite sure how one takes care of a sick person, plus, she can't even cook well enough! But, as she takes care of him, it's like time slows down, and then speeds back up -- just like her heart each time that he lazily smiles at her.

"Harry!" Shrieking, Y/n rushed forward. Heart thudding, she crouched beside his slumped figure and turned him so his head was in her lap. He had been puking, she realised.

"Oh my god, Harry," her voice wavered, trying to get up and bring him with her. "You're burning up," she said to no one in particular, sweat breaking on her forehead as she felt some slip down her back as well.

She took in deep breaths, telling herself that it wasn't anything as bad as the conclusion her frantic mind had jumped to upon first sight. It was just a fever, a very high one at that.

Had she not woken up to use the bathroom, she wouldn’t even have realised that he was out of bed, and passed out on the bathroom floor!

With one hand, she flushed the toilet before clutching his wrist, hanging his arm across her shoulders. His head, on the other side, had slumped off her shoulder and was now brushing against her chest – but she couldn’t have been less bothered about that.

"This is bad, oh this is so bad," she shook her head, face palming herself in her head for not realising earlier that he was running a fever. For accepting his plee and sleeping before he had arrived home, because he was going to work a little later.

"Oh lord," she breathed, staggering forward but making sure that neither of them fell. "It's alright, we're gonna get you to bed," she reassured, not sure if him or herself.

Dropping him on the bed, she cursed when she realised that he had slumped over top of the blanket. Oh, she wasn’t strong enough for all of this!

Still, somehow, she managed to thank the heavens above that he had changed his clothes while raising his legs to get the blanket out from beneath him, proceeding to drape it over his lower half.

His torsos was almost in place, he just needed to move a little up in order to fit his legs.

“Please lord, just make sure he doesn't open his eyes for this one.” She muttered under her breath before crossing one of her legs over his lap.

Getting up on her knees she climbed a little higher so she was now hovering over his stomach, and then raised his shoulders through his armpits and pushed him up, cussing again when he stirred awake.

Of course, he woke up during this. Her breasts were in his face right now and he woke up!

"Y/n?" He croaked out, and Y/n almost flinched due to how hoarse his voice had gotten.

"Yes, yes," she rushed, getting off of him, onto the other side of the bed. "I'm right here."

She watched him heave a breath, before a smile pulled up on his mouth.

"You know, that was a nice view," he chuckled, face scrunching when a fit of cough followed.

With narrowed eyes, "you're hot," she stated.

"I know, love, but now's not the time," he managed to say.

Gasping loudly, Y/n covered her face. "I'm talking about your temperature, oh my god!"

Harry laughed at that, painfully coughing afterwards and closing his eyes due to the pure exhaustion, mumbling something.

"What was that, again?" Y/n asked, leaning in to hear him properly.

He mumbled again, something incoherent but Y/n could tell he had spoken something different from what he'd said earlier.

"I know I should've made you wear a coat," she shook her head, sighing with a slump of her frame.

But then, it was as if her senses knocked back into her. "God, what am even I doing," she smacked herself on the forehead before scurrying off of the bed and rushing to the kitchen.

She wet a towel there, throwing all of the ice they had left in the freezer into a large bowl before filling it with water. She dipped the small towel in it, squeezed out the water and walked back to the room carefully.

He seemed to have fallen asleep, so Y/n quickly folded the towel and put it on his head before rushing back to the kitchen to make a soup out of the little grocery they had at home.

It wasn't really her fault, it was the weekend, so, of course they were running out on fruits and vegetables.

So, almost on an autopilot brain, she took the frozen Kale from the fridge. Then, began collecting the ingredients. An onion, a garlic, some beans and potatos -- wait, he doesn't like potatoes in his soup, she remembered and put the two she'd picked out, back. A few Thyme Sprigs caught her eye and she snatched them, before adding a lemon into the small makeshift bowl her palm was right now.

And lastly, with a scrunched-up nose, she picked up the packaged chicken tenders from the freezer. Because whilst she did love herself some chicken, she couldn't, for the love of god, cook some herself because the feel of it made her sick to her stomach.

Once she had all of the ingredients set out, she rushed back to the room to check on Harry. He looked asleep, but she knew better. So, taking the towel off his forehead, she refreshed it in the ice bowl and put it back.

She got up afterwards and before she could've walked farther, Harry caught ahold of her hand. She turned to look, and his eyes were barely open but still set on her with a lazy smile on his mouth.

"Thank you," he rasped out.

An embarrassed smile grew on her lips. "Of course," she whispered before taking off towards the kitchen again, this time, burning up herself.

This was going to take longer than she wanted, so she began to move through the recipe as quickly as she could. Which was how, ten minutes into cooking, she cut herself a little on the finger while dicing the onions.

Hissing, she hurriedly wrapped a bandage around it and got back to work, hoping and praying that Harry was asleep and not in utter need of her. Although that would be flattering, it still wouldn't be practical.

Cooking wasn't her best skill. So many things, Harry had taught her how to cook when he'd married her about eight months ago. But she knew that something was better than nothing -- so what if the soup ended up tasting disgusting, at least she'd have something hot and healthy to feed him!

And as she was stirring the Kale into the soup to wilt and soften it, she wished nothing more than for her past self to buy a freaking booklet on how to take care of a sick person, because she was decently convinced that abandoning them for more than thirty minutes was not a part of it.

A creaking sound went to her ears, and she shrieked, jumping around only to see her half-asleep husband walking with all his might.

"What are you doing out of bed!" She panicked, walking over to support his heavy frame in some way.

"Oh, for the love of god, I need to pee," Harry grumbled, letting her drape his arm on her shoulder and walk him to the bathroom.

"Could've called me, you!"

Harry only mumbled some incoherent nonsense at that, waving her off before he seemed to realise how rude he was being.

So, just as incoherently, he uttered an apology to her and remembered nothing more than her laying him down on bed and falling on top of him because he laid down before she could've removed her arm.

That, felt nice. Almost every waking second that he spent near her, he just wished he could be a little bit nearer, hold her, maybe. Their marriage still felt so new, and he could tell that she wanted to take things slow.

And while he understood and respected that, he could also tell that he was falling for her as they grew closer and closer each day. He could see the frequency of the smaller and way more vulnerable gestures that sent shockwaves through him, increasing rapidly, like a wildfire. 

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry," she blabbered, rushing to get off of him and pulling her shirt down, face utterly flushed and breathing suddenly heavy.

She got flustered so easily, and so often, that he worried her heart was going to fall out of her chest some day. 

And as she was walking out of the room, she heard a small chuckle pass his throat, causing her to smack herself on the forehead.

Rushing the last couple steps to turn off the stove, she leaned on the kitchen counter to catch herself a breather. This man was going to be the death of her.

She took out some of the soup in a small bowl and put it down before taking some ibuprofen in her other palm. Then, still blushing, she walked back to the bedroom they shared.

"You hadn't taken any medicine before, had you?" She asked, and when he just mumbled something, she knew it was going to be hell of a work to get the soup into his system. She just wished she could inject it in, because she would need to be way too close to him to feed him in a normal way.

Placing the soup on the bedside table, she sat beside him and placed her hands behind his back as he began to get up. Shifting so she was sat facing him, she picked back up the bowl and began stirring it with the spoon.

"Here," she muttered, blowing on the spoon before bringing it to his mouth, her eyes unable to remain still.

He swallowed the soup, and a smile came up on his face. "Feels nice," he whispered, before opening his mouth for the next spoonful.

The same thing kept repeating and slowly, Y/n's eyes settled on his blissful face. She needed to wipe off the sweat on his face, she realised.

"Is it any good?" She asked softly, wiping the soup slipping down his chin with her fingers.

He nodded at that, looking at her in a way she couldn't quite describe. And she hated it when he did that because it made her feel things. Something erupted inside her chest, blood rushed to her face, and it felt funny in her in her stomach.

His head was tilted to the side, and he was looking at her without a blink of an eye. He was staring. Didn't he know staring was bad? She wondered, her eyes looking anywhere but at him.

Upon the last bit, she got up and passed the pill to him, helping him with drinking water. She walked off to the kitchen again, putting the dish in the sink before she went back to him with another towel, this time gently wiping his face.

"Can I have another blanket?" She heard him ask when she was squeezing his previous towel rid of the excessive water.

A chuckle passed her mouth then, making him smile with his eyes closed. "Do you really think that's a good idea, darling?"

Immediately, her eyes widened at the realisation of what she'd just called him.

"Darling, hm?" Of course, he heard it. "I like that," he chuckled, falling into a fit of coughs soon after.

Placing the cold towel on his forehead, she raised his head – placing it in her lap when she sat down. Slowly, she began to press his head, hoping that it felt more relaxing than annoying to him.

And when he groaned, she knew she was doing a good job.

They didn't talk after that, and when he began to snore, she changed his towel one last time before slipping into the bed beside him. Usually, she'd be on the very edge to make sure she didn't get too close to him. But only because he was sick, she slipped closer to him to keep him warm for the night.

And her breathing stilled while her heart began thudding inside her chest when he took her hand and softly intertwined their fingers – before then bringing her arm to slip over his torso and pressing a chaste kiss to her knuckles.