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rafey-baby · 2 months ago

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clumsy!reader is still bad at yoga and yoga instructor!rafe wants to keep her all to himself...

18+ mdni!

c/w: rafe being touchy & blatantly flirting w her, him getting jealous, slightly suggestive, reader being oblivious

wc: 1.9k

idk if anyone missed him but he's back & better than ever !! (after a small vacation that ended up being almost 3 months :D)

some parts are more or less inspired by this, this, this & this ask

part 1

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rafe is in the midst of helping someone fix their posture when he hears the gates of heaven opening in the form of a melodious giggle chiming from the back of the room. He lifts his head in order to detect the source of such a vibrant sound; noticing that his favorite client is currently directing her attention towards some guy next to her.��

The joyful expression she’s sporting makes a scowl paint over his features. Why is this random man making her laugh like that?

“Yeah, you got it. Just keep workin’ on it though,” he quickly dismisses the person he was helping before stomping over to find her practically lying on the floor with the guy’s hands on her calf, along with his mat pulled far too close to hers for Rafe’s liking.

“I think you should bend it more here, right? I’m honestly not too sure,” the guy chuckles as he tries to figure out what she’s doing wrong.

“No cause I have no idea how everyone else makes it seem so easy. It’s so hard to get it right, I feel so stupid half the time,” she complains with a huff, not even noticing Rafe looming within earshot.

“Seriously, I thought this was a beginner’s class but it feels like some of these poses are meant for like literal pros,” he continues with a shake of his head.

“I know, right?” another peal of laughter bubbles from her throat as she shifts into a seated position, giving up altogether.

“Everything alright?” Rafe doesn’t mean for his tone to come out so clipped but there’s something in the way the guy’s touching her so freely that makes his hands curl into fists.

He keeps reminding himself over and over again that this is a client, which means that he can’t just smash his face in— no matter how severely his fingers are itching for it right about now.

“Oh, I was just trying to help her with this,” the guy explains in tandem with her head turning to look at Rafe. She seems startled.

“Well, why don’t you focus on your own form for a change? I mean, s’kinda my job to help her, yeah?” he scoffs, making the guy halt his movements in a state of surprise before he's lifting his hands up in apology.

“Damn, sorry dude,” he mutters out from under his breath while Rafe merely glares at him with the words stay professional bouncing around his skull.

A tense silence follows, making her grow quiet while she takes slow sips from her water bottle as a distraction; wondering why he seems so bothered to see her talking to someone else.

However, when he finally turns his attention towards her, she shrugs it off as him merely having a bad day because it seems like the only logical explanation to her. Because at the end of the day, him being jealous makes as much sense to her as her math homework in high school.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rafe is convinced that the universe is purposefully trying to poke and prod at his limits, giving his carefully curated facade opportunities to crack— allowing for the borderline psychotic aspects of his personality to breathe through the crevices. Because only a week later, Rafe sees her entering the gym with another guy she seems to be awfully friendly with.

“That’s crazy, I don’t even wanna know what Kie said to that,” she rolls her eyes jokingly while he’s showing her something on his phone.

”Yeeeah, guess you could say she wasn’t the biggest fan,” he laughs in a carefree manner, raking a hand through his disheveled, sand-colored hair.

“For some reason I’m not surprised,” she mutters out before she notices Rafe standing in the hallway leading to the yoga class. “Oh, gotta go so I’m not late. See you after?”

“Yeah, I’ll be here. Think Pope said he’s gonna join me for leg day, so we’ll see if I’m still standing when you get back. But you have fun,” he offers her a wave before walking away towards the locker rooms.

And at last, her warm eyes meet Rafe’s. “Hi,” her voice is soft, nearly shy; a stark contrast to her demeanor only a few seconds ago.

“Hey,” he greets her in a casual manner, although his mind is somewhere else entirely. “So, that your boyfriend or?” he tries to approach the subject with nonchalance because it’s not necessarily any of his business.

He’s not even sure why he’s asking— keeps telling himself that he’s just curious and tries to appear friendly by making small talk. After all, some clients have given him feedback on his apparently intimidating aura, claiming they don’t always have the courage to ask for his help because they get anxious he’ll judge them. Therefore, it's something he’s been trying to work on.

“What? Oh, JJ? No, he’s just a friend. He goes to the gym here, so I usually just tag along with him. Free ride, right?” she answers with a lighthearted tone.

“Right. Yeah,” he scratches at the back of his neck, contemplating whether or not to ask the next question since he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries. However, there’s something deep in his stomach that grumbles at the prospect of her being in a relationship, makes him feel nearly insane and ultimately, makes the decision for him.

“You, uh, you got one?”

“What?” she asks, features coated in confusion.

“A boyfriend, I mean,” his gaze is unwavering, eager.

“Oh, um— no, I don’t. Why?” her puzzled eyes flit over the lines of his countenance, seemingly trying to grasp onto his motives.

“Just, uh…wondering. I mean, he’d be kind of a dick if he’s not drivin’ you here himself,” he shrugs, a strange sort of relief making his shoulders feather-light when she lets out an airy giggle in response.

“Yeah, honestly sometimes wish I had one just so he could drive me around and stuff,” she jokes while they begin to pad over to the class.

“You don’t have your license yet?” he raises his brows in surprise.

“No, I do. I just don’t really like driving. I don’t know why but it’s so stressful to me. Usually try to avoid it as much as I can,” she elaborates while gathering her hair away from her face and securing the strands into a ponytail.

“Oh yeah? Well, if you ever need a ride home just let me know, alright?” he says, fighting the urge to tuck a loose tendril that has managed to escape the restraints of her hair tie back behind her ear.

“Really? That’s so sweet of you! But, um, wouldn’t wanna be a bother,” the hesitation is present in her voice.

“Nah, couldn’t bother me if you tried,” he promises, wishing they could talk for longer. However, the ocean of people flooding inside the room behind them cuts their conversation short.

“You’re just saying that,” she dismisses him with a playful scoff.

“M’being for real. You’re my favorite face around here. Plus, makes my job more fun when you’re always stumblin' on your feet,” he can’t help his mouth from twisting upwards at the way her eyes round out in response to his words.

“Shut up. I’m gonna go set down my mat now, before there’s only space right in front of you,” she offers him a giddy smile that makes him grin like an idiot. Then, she’s tiptoeing away from him in order to locate a vacant spot.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rafe has become awfully familiar with these newfound feelings of fondness for the girl who’s by far the most helpless little bambi he’s ever encountered. He thinks she should honestly pick another hobby at this point, because maybe yoga just isn’t meant for her. However, he’d never say any of that out loud because even the thought of not seeing her getting all flustered while she loses her balance whenever he’s near makes him feel physically unwell.

He’s not entirely sure whether her apparently oblivious brain simply hasn’t caught onto the fact that he so clearly has a thing for her, or if she’s well aware and merely chooses to be a tease about it. Nonetheless, the moment she walked into the class today, he could feel his workout shorts tightening and all she’d offered him was a simple smile.

And now she’s right in front of him, all tangled limbs and pretty eyes blinking up at him— practically begging for his guidance and for him to put his hands all over her (something she doesn’t seem to mind all that much).

“You put this cute little set on just for me, huh?” he rasps out while his thumb smooths over the bubblegum pink fabric; feeling it out as he pinches the stretchy fabric between his fingertips, making her breath get caught in her throat in the process.

“Oh, um— just wanted to…try out some new stuff I ordered. You think it’s cute?” she stares at him with something bashful glimmering in her eyes.

“Mhm. Fits you nice,” he mumbles out as his gaze lingers on the way the tight material wraps around her figure, not leaving much to the (his) imagination. He bets it’d be so easy to just rip right through these cute yoga pants and pull her closer with a firm grip on her hips before burying his face between her plush thighs.

“Thanks,” she peeps out, flustered.

He tries to shake off the improper, filthy thoughts with a clear of his throat when he gets caught staring at her for a little too long.

“So, you actually wanna bend your leg on the other side of your body on the mat and support your foot with your left arm not the right one. Easy to get them confused,” he chuckles as she shifts her position according to his instructions as best as she can.

“Like this?” she seeks reassurance with a soft tone.

“Yeah, just like that, Bambi. Good job,” his mouth quirks up some while her mind begins to cloud over in response to his low cadence. She’s not entirely sure what exactly it is about him that makes her feel so fuzzy on the inside, but she thinks it’s nice, thinks she wants to always have him this close to her— wants him even closer.

She doesn’t remember the last time she’s had such an intense crush on someone— slowly turning into a crazy person by each second of not knowing whether he’s merely flirting with her for his own amusement or because he’s actually into her. However, she thinks she’s embarrassed herself in front of him far too many times for the latter to be true in any reality.

“Then need you to move your right hand here,” he adjusts her form with a grip on her wrist while he maneuvers her to his liking; tingles erupting all over the skin he skims over with his fingertips.

Her head is spinning.

“See? Knew you could do it. Feels nice, hm?” he rumbles out, letting his hands rest on her shoulders for support, despite the position not really requiring it.

She hums her response because she doesn’t trust for any coherent words to stumble out of her mouth at the moment, all the while Rafe is desperately trying to not pay attention to the nearly painful situation in his pants.

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moonchildstyles · 3 months ago

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fender

it's 1976, and harry is the biggest rockstar in the world and y/n never thought she would have the chance to meet her idol. especially not like this.

wordcount: 12k+

—————

(Y/N) swore she could feel every note from the blaring speakers in her veins, her bones rattling from the base. Her skin was heated, a sheen of sweat covering every exposed inch. Bodies were packed all around her, dancing and jumping, hands in the air just as hers were. The bar of the barricade pressed heavily against her stomach, holding her back with a cool punch through her clothing. She'd never been to a concert by herself before, but she was finding she didn't mind the fact she was on her own, her dancing much more inhibited with her voice beginning to crackle from the sheer pitch of the screams she was letting out.

Before her, up high on the stage with the bright lights cloaking his form, was her favorite rockstar.

Harry Styles.

In flared bell bottoms, and chest bare, he pranced across the stage, taking in every adoring eye trained on him. His trusted guitarist was shredding away on his neon orange Fender, taking care of the hard work so Harry could swagger about the stage with his microphone swinging in his hand. Sweat dripped down the blocks of his muscles, shimmering as if he had spread the glitter on his eyes over the rest of his body. His lips were curled in a lopsided smile, smug and cocky; he was more than aware of the fact that thousands had filled this arena just to see him.

Another upside to having made it to this show by herself, (Y/N) didn't feel all that silly when she screamed that much louder when he strided over to her side of the stage. Dimples dented the rockstar's cheeks as he took in the adoration being flung at him from all sides. He scanned through the crowd, taking in every set of sparkling eyes and no doubt spotting every beautiful face that was more than willing to do just about anything for him.

While this was the first time (Y/N) had the privilege of seeing Harry live (after having missed both his '73, and '75 tours, it seemed '76 was finally her year) it was no secret just how much love he liked to share with his fans. He never denied it in interviews and more than once photographs of women draped over him had come to light and landed on the front cover of tabloids, or anonymous sources sharing details of sordid nights in his bed. Whenever confronted with questions about those stories or who he was pictured with, he famously gave a dimpled smile and shrugged it of, saying something about how he fell in love easily and didn't shy away from the feeling.

She wondered what she saw when he looked out at the huddles of people looking up at him tonight—if he saw someone he could fall in love with for the night.

As the song continued on, it was time for his next verse though he didn't stray from this side of the stage. He brought the microphone to his lips, crooning his famous lyrics in perfect melody with the rest of his band. He put on a show where he stood as he sang a particularly suggestive line while trailing a hand down his bare stomach, hooking a finger into the waist of his pants to bring them down for a teasing peek of more skin before snapping back into place.

(Y/N) felt her breath catch in her lungs, immensely grateful for how close she'd made it to the stage. She wouldn't have been able to see the thatch of hair he revealed had she been any farther back. Screamed erupted around her, Harry seemingly liking the reaction so much he had to pull away from his microphone to let out a bubble of laughter. By the time he went back to doing his job, there was a particularly smug smile on his lips with matching dimples and amused eyes.

He continued to sing even as pairs of panties and lacy bras were thrown up to the stage, women screaming for his attention with their shirts pressed up to expose their chests. He weaved around the set up, playing with his bandmates to the excitement of his fans. He soaked it all in with exuberant confidence, shining under the stage lights and he put on his show. (Y/N) felt breathless as she sang along with him, her bones rattling as the pit danced around her, pushing her harder against the barricade at her stomach.

By the time the final lines of the song came around, he had made his way back to (Y/N)'s side of the stage. She and the fans around her danced and sang along, her voice scratching in the back of her throat as she gazed up at him. The tune ended in a flourish of drum beats, heavy and bone rattling through the arena.

Harry finished with phantom punches to the air in time with the drum beats just before the lights went down for a flickering moment. His chest was heaving by the time the lights came up once more, his band breaking to take sips of water, his guitarist changing out instruments for another, just as flashy, guitar. The spotlight was dead center on Harry, his eyes casting far out to the rest of the packed arena before him. (Y/N) went her mouth drop into a gape as she took in the man before her—no photograph able to do him justice.

"Everyone still doing good? Having fun?" his voice boomed through the speakers, gesticulating with his hands as if he could reach to the back stretches of the venue. The arena erupted once more, pitched screams calling for his attention. He let out a breathy laugh into the microphone. "I'd hope so," he crooned, "because I'm having a wonderful time. So many pretty faces—thank y'for coming to see me tonight."

He reveled under the cheers given to him, going quiet as he turned his gaze down, to the pit closest to him.

To where (Y/N) was standing right in front of him.

His eyes lingered over the rows behind her before coming closer, stopping a little too close for comfort.

(Y/N) didn't want to get too far ahead of herself, but was he looking at her?

"And what about right here?" he asked, bending down to one knee at the edge of the stage as if he wasn't close enough already, "Having fun?"

Those around her burst into screams, pressing behind her as if they could surge through her and get closer to the rockstar. Her vision was vignetted with all the reaching hands attempting to touch him, fingers outstretched. (Y/N)'s reaction was stuck in her chest, her body stunned into paralysis with sweaty hands tightening around the barricade bar.

His only acknowledgment of the rest of the world came in the form of a quirked lip while his eyes stayed fixed to one spot. The longer she blinked up at him, no reaction, his smile grew, a brow lifting.

Whatever view the rest of the venue was getting had another round of raucous reactions.

Finally mustering enough wherewithal, (Y/N) nodded her head, her mouth still in a small gape.

The quirk in his lips tilted that much more, a dimple settling in his cheek with a hint of the white of his teeth. "Yeah?"

Though inaudible compared to the ruckus around her, she nodded her head with a parroted, "Yeah."

His eyes lingered on her for a passing moment, the tip of his tongue peaking out to skim the blunt of his teeth. Around her, (Y/N) could feel the screams just as much as she heard them, the volume coasting over her skin and seeping through her pores.

"'M gonna make tonight the best night of your life, yeah?" he pressed, speaking directly to her though the world had their own view of the moment.

Another stunned wave touched (Y/N)'s bones, stuttering her lungs and knocking her breath askew. If she wasn't being delusional—something she couldn't be one hundred percent sure of—there was a chance Harry's eyes touched over the neckline of her top, following the line of her exposed skin.

She gave him a small nod.

He gave her another smile before rising to the full of his height once more, the stretch of his body on display. Waltzing over the stage, (Y/N) knew he was speaking, pointing out more in the crowd and doing what he did best by enchanting the masses and bending them to his will, though she didn't hear a word of it.

The trail of his gaze left behind a warmth like he had touched her with his own hands, enough pressure lingering on her skin even when another song started up.

Once the first verse of the song had played, (Y/N) felt her body come back to life slowly, the gravity of the moment beginning to turn into adrenaline. The man she had a hidden poster of had just made eye contact with her and told her he'd make her night special. Harry Styles had looked at her.

Thank god she showed up early tonight. This barricade was now holy ground as far as she was concerned.

Just as she began to sway along with the rest of the bodies around her, checking back into reality, the rockstar swaggered across the stage once more, taking his time to prowl before her.

He looked out in the crowd, reaching far back before trailing closer to where she stood just in front of him once more. He shuttered a single eye in a wink to her with a stanza of particularly suggestive lyrics dripping from his lips.

This time she couldn't help the scream that bellowed from her lungs, only spurred on by the grin on his face.

—————

"See? If you ask nicely, y'get what y'want, don't you?"

Harry's booming voice reawakened the arena. He was giving them the encore they had been begging him for once he exited the stage, the chants of his name being enough to have his band reenter with the rockstar himself following closely behind. (Y/N)'s heart thundered in her chest, cheers leaving her throat.

Mourning the end of the show could wait another ten minutes.

The opening notes of a new tune started, the shredding of the guitar screeching through the arena. (Y/N) couldn't take her eyes off of Harry as he pranced across the space, his jeans sitting low on his hips (at the right angle, she swore she saw a decidedly thick bulge at his crotch—more than just needing a readjustment).

(Y/N) only had a chance to hear the first few lines of the opening verse before a large man in all black came to block her view. If not for the fact she was currently—as promised—having the best night of her life, she would have thrown a fit. She instead attempted to crane her neck around this block and catch glimpses of Harry for the last few moments of the night.

"Sweetheart," he yelled against the bass coming from the speakers, "You're coming with me."

Blinking, (Y/N) forced her gaze to settle on this man. Just as she feared, he was looking right at her as he spoke.

Though she was largely unwilling to not pay attention to the concert of her life, she didn't think she had much of a choice in ignoring this man.

"Me?" she enunciated, pointing at herself if he wasn't able to hear her right.

"Yes, you," he said again, eyes trained on her, "Now. Before the end of the show."

Had she done something wrong? She couldn't imagine she was any more rowdy than the rest of the crowd (especially, as she still had all of her undergarments on and her nose clean), but she was the one being removed?

"Why?" she sputtered, anchoring to her spot.

The man's lips thinned, unimpressed with her pushback. "I've been asked to bring you backstage."

(Y/N) blanched at the new information. "By who?" she pressed, not entirely believing this moment.

The man sighed, his shoulders lifting. He caught her gaze, holding it as he jerked his head to gesture to the stage behind him.

Right where Harry Styles was prancing about, low slung jeans and all.

She blinked at him, flicking between his enlarged gaze to the rockstar at his back. "Really?"

"Yes," he insisted, "And I would like to take you now while we still have the space."

(Y/N) didn't immediately move, switching her eyes to Harry Styles, in all of his glistening glory. The curls on the top of his head were slick with sweat, but still managed to flop so handsomely over his features. His tattoos shuddered over his skin, animating with every belting note and roll of his body.

He had promised to make this the best night of her life, and she couldn't imagine any better way than to meet him backstage.

With the help of the man in black, she crossed the barricade with the eyes of those around her following closely behind. He led her carefully around the stage and through different equipment on quick feet, the music being left behind with the private backstage area before her.

Chancing a look over her shoulder, Harry, with his microphone cord coiled around his hand and sparkling eyes, winked at her once more.

—————

Sitting alone in what she figured was Harry's dressing room, (Y/N) could hear the final encore being played through the walls. While a part of her was itching to run back out, to catch those moments she had been looking forward to from the second she had bought her ticket, she was practically bolted to her spot.

All around her were small relics of the man out on that stage. An herbal candle sat with a pool of melted wax on the vanity table, anchoring down a blue cloth. Flecks of glitter seemed to stick to near every surface, leaving specks of light dotted across every surface, including the familiar container of makeup remover reflected in the mirror. A faded t-shirt was on the ground, next to a rumpled pair of athletic sweats. A bottle of cologne balanced on the edge, just a bump away from falling to the floor.

Her fingers fumbled in her lap, her heart puttering in her chest. She was backstage at a Harry Styles concert after being requested by the man himself. Knowing his discography well enough, every note that rocked through the walls acted like a ticking time clock, counting down to the moment she would no longer be alone in this dressing room.

Muffled through the arena, she heard the music crescendoing, heavy drumbeats and addicting guitar riffs ruffling the structure. Harry's voice played over the music, though it was clear he wasn't singing. Was he saying his goodbyes for the night?

The thought had her heart jumping into her throat, head going blank.

Should she stand up? Should she meet him up there? Would he like her outfit or was the cutout between her breasts too much? Oh god, what was she going to say?

Her pulse was kicked into overdrive when she heard a ruckus start up backstage, more voices piping up than she'd heard in the last ten minutes. Harry's voice had disappeared from the muffled tone he'd had on stage, making her pulse kick up that much more.

How close was he? Was anyone else going to come back here with him? Would he think her pants were stupid?

The long line of questions came to a halt the second the doorknob turned, the sound seemingly louder than the band playing the show out back on the stage. A muffled goodbye sounded on the other side before the first glimpse of the rockstar could be seen.

He was looking over his shoulder, speaking to someone she couldn't see around the broad strokes of his frame. His bare skin shimmered with sweat and glitter, animating his tattoos over the blocks of his muscles. The denim of his jeans were tight around his thighs though the waist still managed to fall some down his hips, showcasing a pair of leafy tattoos. He was saying something, a string of words that she missed completely over the roaring in her ears.

It felt like hours, watching him say his final goodbyes to whoever, before he finally turned around to face her.

Had her mouth already been dropped open, or was that just a side effect of seeing the green of his eyes up close?

"Hi," he smiled at her, moving towards his vanity table to retrieve the blue cloth held down under the candle, "How are you?"

Blinking, (Y/N) practically stumbled to her feet, her hands behind her back in a fumbling mess. "Hi. I'm good, thank you. How are you?"

A small smile touched his lips, "'M alright, thanks. 'M Harry."

It was (Y/N)'s turn to smile, a breath of laughter falling from her lips. "Oh, you're Harry! Got it," she attempted to joke, feeling one of the many strings tensing her shoulders being cut when he rewarded her with a bubbling laugh. "I'm (Y/N)."

"Nice to meet you, (Y/N)," he shared, a single curl flopping over his forehead as he ran the cloth over his face and down his neck, "'M happy y'made it back here—was worried y'weren't going to come after seeing y'talk to Paul."

"I was just a little confused," she explained, noting the way his eyes dropped to her lips as she spoke, "I couldn't believe you were actually asking for me."

"No?" he pressed, raising a brow with a quirk to his lips. He leant against the vanity counter, giving her all of his attention as if he wasn't shirtless with a sweaty chest staring at her. "And why is that, hm?"

Somehow, even without the amps and speakers booming throughout the venue, his voice held more impact in the quiet dressing room. The bass seemed heavier, his accent more drawling, the draw of his lips more alluring without a microphone in the way.

"Um," she started, blinking the stars out of her eyes, "Just... There was a lot going on out there—I didn't think you could even see me over the lights—or the bras."

Harry laughed, dimples popping into his cheeks with a light in his eyes. "Yeah, there was a lot out there tonight. Want anything before 's all cleaned up out there?"

He gestured out the door of his dressing room while (Y/N) shrugged. "Maybe. Was there anything pretty?"

The way he let his eyes drop heavily to her body, touching over the cutout on her top and the soft of her midriff exposed by the cropped fit almost made (Y/N) want to stumble back. When he dared to meet her eyes once more, he had a coy curl to his lips as if she hadn't been there as he dragged his eyes over her.

"I can think of a couple of things that might look pretty on you."

Despite the small laugh that puffed from her lips, her heart hammered in her chest. She hadn't wanted to get too far ahead of herself when she was first asked to meet him backstage, but it was hard to ignore the way he looked at her and still think this was nothing more than a friendly conversation.

"If there's anything you don't want, I'll take," she countered, hoping he couldn't hear the sound of her heartbeat with the way it was rushing through her ears.

The coy smile on his mouth turned into something more genuine then, amusement in his eyes. "Yeah? Y'saw anything y'think I need to take home?"

Even with the squeeze of her lungs, the nervous pit in her stomach, (Y/N) saw her own opportunity being dangled before her. She hoped she came off as nonchalant as she pictured as she shrugged, canting her head with a slight lick of her gaze down his chest. "I think you look good enough right now."

While there was still a lingering flush on his cheeks from the stage, the adrenaline clearly visible on his features, her words seemingly only fanned him hotter. The cloth he held was now dropped to the vanity, his empty hands coming to rest on the lip of the counter behind him. His arms flexed at his sides, veins popping out on his forearms.

"Good enough for what?" he pressed, a spark skittering through his eyes.

He hadn't shot her down. He was flirting back. Oh, god.

What would one of the women in the magazines say? How did they flirt with him so effortlessly to be invited for a fanciful—even if fleeting—night?

"You tell me," she countered, the only syllables that were able to squeak through her throat.

Dimples were deep in his cheeks by the time he turned around, collecting the bottle of makeup remover before pouring some on his cloth. He began wiping away the glitter as he found her eyes in the mirror.

"The band and I are going back to the hotel with a few friends—maybe party a little. Y'wanna come?"

Bubbling excitement like what she felt out on the arena floor reentered her stomach. A bright smile touched her features.

"I'd love to."

—————

"Pick your poison, darling."

(Y/N) didn't even know there were hotel rooms with fully stocked bars, but here was one right before her. A liquor tray behind the counter was decorated with plenty of bottles and decanters, more than half already missing gulps. Harry was acting as her bartender while the rest of the band and various guests were traipsing around the suite, the door to the hallway left wide open as they milled in and out. Music pumped through a set of stereo speakers, a member of Harry's band acting as DJ with various records and cassettes being switched in and out upon the players.

More than one familiar face swept through the suite, people she'd seen in the crowd of the arena tonight alongside those she'd met backstage. Some left the bathrooms with wide eyes and sniffling noses, others with hair bigger than when they had gone in and lipstick askew with a partner behind them. It was nowhere near the kind of party she had pictured when following after Harry, but she'd never been around rockstars before either.

Flitting her gaze over the various bottles surrounding Harry, (Y/N) canted her head. "Anything sweet."

Harry hummed, a slight quirk to his lips as he started fiddling about the different bottles. "Should've guessed, hm?"

"Why do you say that?"

Leaning on the bar, arms folded underneath her chest with her breasts pushed up, (Y/N) watched with her eyes lingering on his hands. All of his stage adornments, including his rings, had been left behind when he changed into something decidedly less ostentatious for this party, leaving the length of his fingers bare for her eyes to feast upon.

"Jus' had a feeling," he smiled at her, his eye falling into a wink.

(Y/N) watched with the same rapt attention she had given him on stage as he mixed her drink. He pulled bottles of clear liquor together with various juices, working in smooth movements as a brightly colored cocktail came together. Everything he did came off as fluid and practiced, the same kind of ease he offered to the stage with every note he belted and swagger of his hips.

"We jus' got here," Harry murmured, knocking her attention from his hands to his amused gaze, "Y'can't keep looking at me like that unless you're ready for our night to end."

Her breath caught in her throat. He'd told her earlier that this entire floor had been booked out for him and his band, but his room was at the very end. The biggest suite, he'd said—with a terrace and everything.

Would it be so bad to find out what his room looked like so early?

Attempting her best nonchalant facade, (Y/N) shrugged, a coy smile on her face. It was enough to make Harry laugh.

She could see him open his mouth to say something only to be cut off by a shout of his name from across the room. He whipped to face the call, the baby curls drying on the back of his neck giving a bounce at the motion. (Y/N) turned to follow his line of sight, seeing a semi-familiar face she had passed when backstage heading towards them with a beaming smile.

"I didn't know you were here! Took you forever to clean up, I thought you were spending the night at the venue," the man joked, pushing long dreads over his shoulder. His dark eyes danced over to (Y/N) for a fleeting second, his grin widening. "Is this your friend Mitch was telling me about?"

Rounding the bar with a fluorescent drink in his hand, Harry handed off the glass to (Y/N) (no ice, the crystal warm from his hand) before slinging his arm over her shoulder. She felt a shiver touch the bottom of her spine, though she used all of her effort to keep it pinned down.

Harry shrugged her closer to him, the side of her breast pushing against him through the thin material of her top. "Yeah, this is (Y/N). Met at the show—saw her pretty face right in the front row."

Harry's friend looked at her with raised brows, amusement laced in his eyes as he followed the length of Harry's arm around her shoulders. "Yeah? Liked the show?"

(Y/N) eagerly nodded, Harry's hold slipping from around her shoulders to be readjusted around her waist with a flex. She could feel his eyes on her face as he awaited her answer. "Loved it," she chirped, smiling with a cant to her head, "I've never seen him live before, so tonight was really amazing. I feel really lucky."

Maybe she was laying it on thick—she already made it backstage with his arm around her waist, she didn't have to catch his attention anymore—,but she liked seeing the dimples denting into his cheeks as he listened to her.

"I didn't know tonight was your first time," he mumbled to her, voice low as if they didn't have another person standing just in front of them, watching on with amused eyes.

"I'd feel lucky too if I were you," the man continued, his voice lilting in a tease, "Most of Harry's friends never make it past the dressing room."

"Alright, Jay," Harry cut in, voice louder than a moment before as he suddenly steered them towards the end of the conversation, "I'll see y'later. Thanks."

Jay only laughed it off, seemingly having achieved the reaction he wanted from Harry. (Y/N) didn't let herself linger on the motion of Harry's other friends—she knew she wasn't first and would most likely not be the last. Some of her wildest dreams had been reached just by meeting him, she could be happy with whatever she was granted tonight. Even if it was just that: one night.

"Sorry," Harry murmured, saving face as he guided (Y/N) away from Jay and towards the sitting area where most of the musicians were huddled together with drinks and records splayed across the coffee table. She ignored the faint lines of white scattered over the recognizable covers. "He likes to get on m'nerves, I think."

"It's alright," (Y/N) reassured, watching as Harry sunk into the one cushion left on the couch, "I thought it was funny."

Harry raised a brow at her, a sly smile on his lips, "'M sure y'did. C'mere darling."

He gestured her to his lap, opening his arms for her to plant herself on his thighs. Looking at him with his eyes trained upwards at her, sparkling and a bit lazy after putting on an energetic show, (Y/N) felt her skin warm. She had to make a point to see from tripping all over herself to take up his invitation.

There were eyes all around that watched as she took her spot on Harry's spread thighs, taking note of his arm wrapping around her middle to keep her steady. She had her own eyes down looking at her pretty drink as she hid the smile on her face. The cropped cut of her top allowed his palms to press against the bare skin of her waist, calluses roughening his touch from his years of playing different guitars. She was sure he could feel the line of goosebumps that rose in the wake of his touch, including the circuit his thumb started up around the waistline of her pants.

(Y/N) brought her head up when she heard the call of Harry's name from one of the many sitting around the coffee table. The guitarist—Mitch—had his head tilted, looking at Harry with a sly smile on his face.

"Mitchell?" Harry drawled, a teasing lilt to his voice as he pulsed a hand on (Y/N)'s waist.

"Are you going to introduce any of us to your friend?"

While Mitch and others in the circle didn't look particularly surprised to see someone on Harry's arm, it appeared Jay wasn't kidding with his comment about a rare few of Harry's friends making it past the dressing room.

"This is (Y/N), everyone," Harry relented, his voice low despite the music blasting just behind them. Nonetheless, everyone gave him rapt attention as if he had a microphone in his hand. "(Y/N), this is everyone."

"Hi, everyone," (Y/N) smiled, hoping she came off funnier than she sounded to herself, "Nice to meet you."

She could feel Harry laugh, his chest puffing from behind her. She took another sip of her drink, hiding her proud smile.

Conversation bubbled up then, some words slurred and slow while others were rambling at a rapid pace. (Y/N) sipped her drink as she took in the environment, listening in as if she were watching a movie. Harry's rumbling voice was an anchor at her back, his hand on her thigh keeping her attention as she tuned into his voice.

Behind her, he and Mitch were talking about the new customer Fender that was being made in Harry's honor. Perfect for the next album, she'd heard, the information brightening up her face.

"What are y'smiling about, hm? Something funny?" Harry's lips brushed the back of her ear, his voice drifting down the column of her neck. As he spoke he shifted his hand up to land on her waist, giving the curve a tickling squeeze. She jumped in his lap, holding her drink tight to her chest as she let out a gasping laugh.

"No," she smiled, turning to face him as he gazed up at her, "Just... New music? Already?"

"'M always working on something," he murmured, keeping his voice quiet as if conspiring with her on sensitive secrets.

Curling in his chest, (Y/N) could still hear the rivers of conversations flowing around them, eyes that landed on her as she cuddled up to a rockstar, but she kept her eyes on him. "Really? But you're on tour."

He shrugged around her. "There's always something to write about," he told her, eyes dragging down her face until he landed on her lips, "Something worth making a song about."

Her skin heated, feeling his gaze as if he touched her with his calloused fingers. Feeling his attention so heavily was like finishing her drink and standing on a rooftop over the city: exhilarating. How had anyone before her survived these kinds of moments—been bold enough to sit through them without taking down every second and memorializing it?

She wasn't sure what he saw in her face, but whatever it was had the corner of his lips turning upwards. A smug smile molded his features.

"What did I say about looking at me like that?" he murmured, his words teasing though the grip on her hip was far from.

Canting her head, she matched his gaze, his grip on her keeping her grounded. "I thought you liked it."

In that moment, his eyes seemingly darkened, pupil dilating. If not for the rest of the noise around them—the music and loud conversation—she wondered what his instincts would have urged him to do.

"I do," he crooned, shifting under her with his hand still on her hip.

The way he moved underneath her had her position adjusted on his lap, pushing the curve of her ass right against the middle of his thighs. A hard ridge pressed against her. Emphasizing his point exactly.

"Oh," she sighed, feeling breathless as if she were still flush against the barricade with an illuminated rockstar before her. It was that memory of him swaggering about the stage, picking her face out and singing the songs she'd listened to like gospel, that had a burst of confidence in her chest. That rockstar had picked her.

Keeping her eyes on his, she whispered, "Can I hear some of the new music? In your suite?"

She didn't have to elaborate any further, Harry catching on to the undercurrent to her words. A single dimple touched his cheek, his hand pulsing around her hip. "Let's go."

(Y/N) stood first off of his lap with Harry following after, reaching to take her hand in his.

"Leaving already?" Mitch piped up, his eyes dancing with amusement as Harry turned to face him.

"Gonna show her some of the stuff we've been working on," Harry drawled, nonchalant as he began inching towards the door, "Back in m'room."

"Coming back?"

Harry glanced at (Y/N) then, a silent communication that had her sheepishly smiling. "Probably not."

"Right," Mitch said, brows bouncing over his eyes, "See you in the morning."

Without much ceremony, Harry made their getaway for the night, leading her out into the hall. Stragglers were stationed around the ajar door, some with a lingering powder under their nose, others with hair messed up more than what (Y/N) was sure was intentional, matching the smudged makeup. Harry only gave them an acknowledging nod before heading down the corridor with her in tow.

It was a short walk to the door, though (Y/N) hoped to be able to recall every step down the hall, every beat of her heart against her ribs in the morning.

"After you," he crooned, opening the door with a flourish as he stood to the side.

She gave him a smiling nod as she crossed the threshold. The press of his gaze could be felt on her backside.

Flicking the lights on, a true suite was presented to her. She could only see the bedroom through a cracked door. The main living area, though much more put together compared to the room they'd just left, it was still clear a rockstar was crashing there. Random clothing was strewn about the space, open suitcases full of stage clothing as well as casual pieces. A heavy boombox with an array of tapes scattered around it was placed atop the television.

It wasn't nearly as bad as she had thought it would be, given the rumors of what rock stars got up to in hotel rooms, but she figured that was what the extra rooms were for. It wasn't much fun sleeping in a mess, especially when on stage every night with little sleep to boot.

"Didn't have time to clean up today, sorry," Harry said, closing the door behind them.

(Y/N) smiled over her shoulder at him, setting her cocktail on the counter of the kitchenette as she walked deeper into the suite. "Too busy?"

Dimples in his cheeks, he walked slowly as he followed her in. "A little bit."

Stepping around the mess, she found herself by the sound system, rifling through the cassettes he had around it. The plastic casing gleamed in the light, more than a handful scattered on the television stand. A few familiar, newer albums stood out.

Bowie, Station to Station. Queen, Day at the Races. Ramones' debut. Elton John, Blue Moves.

One empty case was beside the player, the cover flipped open with the tape missing. Flicking it back, the cover of ABBA's Arrival shone.

"ABBA?"

Behind her, Harry slipped an arm around her waist, looking over her shoulder. "What? Y'don't like disco?"

"I do," she laughed, turning around to face him, "Just didn't picture you as a dancing queen, that's all. You look a little bit older than seventeen."

Harry clasped his hands behind her back, his fingers pressing into the bare skin presented through the crop of her shirt. His features were softened as he matched her gaze, eyes hooded and heavy. "Does that disqualify me?"

"Probably." She wasn't sure when they started whispering, when his fingertips on her back began to creep under the hem of her top, but she melted into his touch with her own hands settling on his chest.

"Still like me?"

It should have been annoying to hear him speak this way. It wasn't hard to detect the cockiness—near arrogance—in his voice; he knew the answer before he'd even posed the question. It should have turned her off and had her taking her leave.

But, it only had the opposite effect. His confidence was a warmth hitting her stomach.

With him so close, their bodies flush, she didn't have to try very hard when she shifted her hips to feel the bulge in his pants pressing to the small of her stomach.

"Yeah," she answered simply, voice suddenly breathless.

Just as she expected, a smug smile had his lips curling. His hooded gaze traveled around her features, the tip of his tongue skimming the corner of his mouth.

"How much?"

This was the moment, she decided. There was no way she was in a rockstar's hotel room, after being plucked from the crowd at his request, feet away from his bedroom, and not going to take the opportunity that was being offered on a silver platter.

"I can show you."

That had to have been what he wanted to hear, given the fact he surged forward and sealed his lips to hers.

Unsurprisingly (not that she'd thought about it, or anything), his lips were soft, molding to the shape of her own glossed pair. He slotted his mouth to fit her top lip between the pillows of his two, the tip of his tongue slicking the seam. The smoky taste of the whisky he'd drunk back in the other suite lingered on his tongue, mixing with the sweet liquor of her own sips.

His hands on her back flattened out, leaving on her bare skin between the waist of her pants and the cropped hem of her top, with the other slipping underneath. His palm was aligned with the knobs of her spine, spanning between her shoulder blades under the thin material of her top.

Tilting his head, he deepened the kiss as he pulled her closer. The soft sound of their lips parting and meeting once more filled his hotel room, slick and messy. His tongue snaked out, sampling a taste of her own when she opened her mouth just enough for him. (Y/N)'s chest shuddered.

She was kissing Harry fucking Styles.

She hadn't kept a diary in years, but she was going to have to crack open a new one just to write out every detail of this moment. (Though, she might leave out the bit about how ABBA's Dancing Queen got them there).

"What are y'smiling about?"

"Hm?" (Y/N) hummed, hands traveling up his chest to follow the broad stretch of his shoulders.

He pulled away, keeping his body close to hers as he gazed down at her. His lips were glossed with their shared spit, his pupils blown. "You're smiling. What's funny, hm?"

His hand under her top shifted until he had his palm over her side, lining up with the ladder of her ribs. Goosebumps touched over her heated skin.

"Nothing," she murmured, her own hands moving until she had his cheeks cupped in her palms. "Just... This is crazy."

His eyes practically sparkled with the way she breathlessly spoke. Leaning close, he nudged his nose against hers, eyes slitted. "Yeah?"

Gone was the smile on her face as she listened to the same voice that had soundtracked her life for the last handful of years. All while he looked at her with kiss-swollen lips and hooded eyes, his hard cock pressing through the material of his pants.

"Yeah," she parroted, breathy with the word sweeping over his lips.

It was his turn to smile, surging forward to smear his lips against hers. It was a lingering press, just a bit clumsy with the way his nose knocked hers. She was expecting him to tip his head and deepen the kiss once more, only for him to pull away.

"I think I promised some new music, right, love?"

Blinking up at him through her lashes, in a second she was transported back to the other suite, where she had conjured up the story of sneaking to his room to hear new tracks. That felt like hours ago—like she had been a different person back then. Someone who had never kissed Harry Styles before, at least.

"Right," she smiled, playing along with the game he was proposing, "In your bedroom?"

A smile grew on his lips. "Of course. Where else?"

She let out a breathy laugh as she followed after him, hands twined together as they left behind the cassettes and strewn clothing for his darkened bedroom. Different from the rest of the suite, only lamps are left to light the room. Only a single standing lamp beside the rumpled bed was flicked on, leaving a small wash of light sitting on the messy sheets and the bedside table on the opposing side. The space holding a smokey sweet scent, matching the fragrance of his skin. A mess of unlabelled cassettes occupied the bedside table, with another more compact player off to the side.

Shooting her a lopsided smile, Harry led her to the side table. His hand still in hers, he rifled through the tapes with his free hand.

"What do y'want to listen to first?"

The blank bricks held no indication of what could be on them other than a silver sharpie marking them as demos with different numbers.

"This is your new music?" she murmured, eyes widening when she realized what she was looking at.

"Mhm," he hummed, the weight of his eyes hitting the line of her profile, "Wanna hear m'favorites?"

Looking at him through the fan of her lashes, she gave him a nod, pretending as if she wasn't as excited as she really was. She figured being giddy over a couple of tapes wasn't exactly a sexy look.

Deft fingers pulled out a tape marked as Demo #4 before setting it into the player. Through the speakers, the sound was crackly and quiet compared to the records of his voice she had in her bedroom. The guitar started first, the chords wavy and psychedelic, the guitarist letting the notes linger as if they were melting through the speakers.

Just as a familiar voice sounded over the notes, Harry pulled her flush to his chest with the help of the grip on her hand. His free hand cupped her cheek, his lips meeting hers in a clumsy mess. He fit her bottom lip between his two, immediately touching the tip of his tongue to the full center of her lip. (Y/N) didn't have to think before she had her mouth parted, letting him in once more.

Letting go of his hand, she curled her fingers into the material of his shirt, clinging to him. She hadn't been aware her nails could be felt through the thin fabric until a shuddering breath rocked his chest.

Walking her the short steps backwards, Harry blindly guided her to the edge of the bed. Her knees gave way to the mattress before she fell backwards, Harry following after with his hips fit between her thighs.

The chains of his necklace dangled over the base of her throat, a cool point of clarity against the rising warmth of her skin. His hands skated down her sides, grazing the bare skin presented from the cut of her top. Her hips fit against his like a puzzle piece, cradling as he pushed against her core with lingering rocks.

While his hands roamed over her form with their lips locked, (Y/N) took advantage of her position under him and locked a leg over his hip. Reaching up, she racked her fingers through his hair. The curls threaded around her fingers, a low rumble coming from his throat when she pulled just enough at the roots.

The bass of his moan came just as there was a peak to his voice playing through the cassette player. (Y/N) was reminded she was making out with a rockstar to his own unreleased music. Her hips rocked upwards at the thought.

Harry began to kiss down her chin, over her neck, and to the shelf of her collarbones while he fit the lengths of his fingers under the material of her top. Her bare skin sang for him, blood rushing through her veins.

His lips travelled down until he hit the neckline of her shirt. "Can I take this off?" he murmured into her skin, the words sinking into her pores.

"Uh-huh," she nodded, goosebumps rising when the tip of his nose brushed her neck. "Please."

She could feel the way he smiled at her response, the curl pressed into her skin before he bit at the line of her collarbone. Her grip in his hair tightened at the short sting, her leg curling that much more around his hip.

As promised, Harry, with his hands underneath her shirt, helped slide it over her head. Reluctantly, she pulled her hands from his hair and raised up from the bed long enough for him to slip it off her form and for the garment to become another piece of clothing puddled on the floor.

Without a bra, her breasts were exposed to the buttery light of the lamp. Her nipples peaked in the cool air, her chest rising and falling with each breath she pulled in. Harry didn't wait before he lowered his face to her breasts, smearing his lips over the swells. He scraped his teeth along the plush skin, leaving tender marks in his wake. Her hands once again found his hair, burying her fingers among the strands.

After a particularly harsh bite, she pulled his hair harshly. She could feel the sly smile that touched at his lips.

"Feeling good, baby? Like it when I bite you?"

She gave a clumsy nod of her head, mouth opened in a soundless nod. With her hands in his hair, she pulled him to her nipple, wanting the sting of his bite on the tender bud.

He didn't immediately give in, only pecking a soft kiss to the peak before looking up at her through the frame of his lashes. "Want me rough? Like it like that?"

Mindlessly nodding, she keened at the rumbling of his voice. "I like it rough," she bubbled, speaking over the unedited melodies of his voice.

Instead of responding, Harry gave her what she wanted, his teeth scraping over her nipple. With her hands still in his hair, she gripped the strands at the roots, her back bowing into his lips. Her lips parted with a breathy moan.

Harry took care of her, his mouth skating over her breasts. His teeth left tender spots—some she almost wanted to leave bruises—with his tongue following in the way, soothing the marks. Her stomach tightened with every wet press of his mouth, his hands sliding down to her hips. He played with the waist of her bottoms, his kiss following slowly after as he trailed down the soft of her stomach. The tip of his nose skimmed her skin, a tickling feeling rising in her chest that had a burst of laughter bubbling out.

With his lips still attached to her, he peered up at her through his lashes. A slow smile stretched his lips, the curl pressing into her skin.

"You're always laughing, baby," he murmured, "What is it this time, hm?"

"Tickles," she laughed, the melody floating over the next track playing off of Demo #4.

A plume of his own rumbling laughter grazed her stomach, goosebumps raising on her skin. Cushioned by the messy, tobacco scented sheets, (Y/N) watched with laughter edging on her lips as he nuzzled into her stomach. He made a show of hitting the waist of her pants with his fingers hooked into the band.

From between her thighs, he looked up at her with hooded eyes. "Gonna take these off, baby. 'S that alright?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded. With his hair out of reach of her hands, she propped herself up on her elbows to watch as he worked, fingers curling into the sheets.

With deft hands, Harry made quick work of the garment. It didn't take long before her pants and boots were on the ground beside her discarded top, leaving (Y/N) in nothing more than a pair of string panties.

(It was done as a joke almost, when she was getting ready, to pick panties as if she was going to be showing off for someone after the show. She'd never been more grateful for that delusional choice).

Harry was still fully clothed as he took his place once more between her legs, laying the broad of his body flush to hers. Her breasts were pressed into the solid blocks of muscle of his chest, only the thin material of his top separating her skin from his. He sealed his lips to hers once more, getting a taste of her tongue against his in broad strokes.

It was her turn to start stripping him, keeping her mouth to his as she plucked at the neckline of his shirt.

He pulled away with a breath, lips spit-slicked and kiss-swollen. He looked all too satisfied with himself as he gazed down at her, pulling off his shirt. Throwing it somewhere in the room, (Y/N) didn't have a chance to catch the landing before he was crowding around her once more.

"Trying to get me naked?" he murmured, a teasing thread through his tone, "Think 'm that easy, love?"

"I'm hoping," she smiled, pecking a messy kiss to the corner of his mouth. She could taste the smear of her lipstick on his skin.

Chasing after her mouth, he trailed his lips over her cheek, following the line of her cheekbone. Whispering to her, lips brushing her ear, he said, "Y'want me, baby? Tell me."

Between the press of his covered cock against her pussy, the rumble of his voice through her chest and against the shell of his ear, her eyes fluttered to a close. Her mouth was dropped in a gape, her breathing stilted.

"I want you," she said, suddenly breathless, "I-I've thought about this before."

She could hear the smirk in his voice. "Yeah? What've y'thought about, baby?"

"Yeah," she repeated dazedly, sucking in a harsh gasp when ground down hard between her legs. "I—um—I wondered if all the stories were true. If-if you are really like how everyone says."

"Is that why y'dressed like this tonight? Hoping you'd find out for yourself?"

She didn't want to melt over how cocky he was, how sure of himself over assuming she had dressed with him in mind. But, he was right—she wanted him to at least see her, remember her if she was lucky enough. Only in her wildest dreams did she imagine her cutout crop top and tight pants would land her here.

With her eyes still closed, she nodded her head. "I wanted to know if your songs were true."

"Which ones?"

"The ones," she stalled when she felt his hand slip between their bodies, tickling over soft curves of her body until he reached the apex of her thighs. "Um—the ones about... You sing a lot about eating pussy."

His laugh was warm, bubbling over her. "I do, don't I?"

"Almost two albums worth," she teased, a lighthearted tone running under her words before she was cut off.

Between her legs, he made no ceremony of the way he pulled her panties to the side and dragged his fingers through her folds. It wasn't until he split her open that she realized just how wet she'd become. Slick noises from between her legs filled the bedrooms, two of Harry's fingers slipping through her slit in long strokes, prodding at her weeping hole and nudging her clit, in a smooth circuit.

"What did y'think about when you'd hear those songs?" Harry asked as if she had any mind left to comprehend anything but his touch.

Squeezing her eyes shut when he circled her clit in a teasing touch, she dug her nails into the strapping muscles of his biceps. Under her hands she could feel the way the hand between her legs had his arm flexing with every movement.

"Huh?"

Through a smile he pressed a messy kiss to the space before her ear. "What did y'think about when y'had your fingers in your pussy?"

The blunt wording had her insides tightening, a squeeze she was sure he could feel as he brushed over her opening.

"How did I fuck you in your pretty head, hm? Tell me, baby."

Her mouth had a mind of its own as she started blabbering off without a thought. "Hard—You'd fuck me hard. I-I'd let you do anything to me, daddy."

His hand between her legs lagged, lingering close to her clit but not close enough. "What was that?"

"What?" she mumbled, turning her head in hopes of catching him in a kiss.

Harry pulled away, just out of reach though he kept his hooded eyes on hers. "What did y'jus' say?"

Blinking at his question, she attempted to cast her mind back enough to catch any memory of what she said. It dawned on her slowly, the kind of word she let slip from her imagination and into the real world.

"Um," she floundered, skin flushing in a different way than just a heartbeat before.

His smile grew, lopsided and entertained over her tied tongue. Leaning over her, he nudged his nose against hers, the full of his lips just barely brushing over hers.

"Y'called me daddy."

(Y/N) didn't say anything in response. Her hands tightened around his biceps.

"Say it again, baby."

Her mouth dropped into a gape. He wanted her to say it again?

"What?"

"Say it again," he murmured, his voice melding with the crackly tape soundtracking this moment, "'S alright—I know y'want to."

How was she supposed to say no to that?

Hyperaware of the way her voice wrapped around the word, she hoped it would be just as intriguing to him this second time.

"Daddy."

A rumbling moan left his chest just before he dove down, slotting his lips against hers in a messy kiss. Between her legs, he didn't hesitate before he slipped his fingers inside. The length of the digits were fit snug inside, opening her up as he gave a few cursory thrusts through. She could barely even kiss him back, her face screwing up in pleasure at the jolting touch with her lips parting. Harry slipped his tongue inside, licking over her own as he stroked his fingers through her pulsing walls.

Her breathing completely stalled when he curled his fingers, the calloused pads pressing into the spongy spot hidden among her walls. There were only a few times when she'd had the patience to find the spot herself, her memories of the sensation paling in comparison to what was happening to her now. Instinctively, she wanted to close her thighs, keep his hand from moving anywhere away from her. Harry's free hand came down and cupped the soft inside of her thigh, and splayed her legs open wide for him.

"Again," he ordered, the command falling on her tongue.

It didn't take a single thought before she was falling to his instruction. "Daddy—fuck."

"Feel good, baby?" he crooned, breathy and heated against her mouth.

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," she whined.

"I bet it does," he teased, "Can barely keep still for me, huh? For daddy?"

Her stomach wound itself tight at the sound of his accent, the same voice she'd listened to through her headphones and the crackles of her record player, wrapped around the title. This was what her fantasies were made of.

"Liked that?" he drawled, a sly smile working onto her lips, "Could feel how much y'liked that. Is this what y'thought about when you'd fuck yourself, baby?"

Rocking her hips up into his hand, he never lagged on circling the spongy wall inside her, only breaking when he opted to thrust deep inside to keep her on edge. His palm was pressed headily against her clit, the heel smeared heavily over it with every lingering stroke through her insides.

"Al-always you," she breathlessly admitted, "Always wanted you there with me."

"I know, baby. Y'need me, huh?"

"Yes, daddy," she panted, eyes rolling to the back of her head.

Dropping his forehead to rest on the apple of her cheek, she felt Harry's own heavy breaths sweeping over her heated skin. "You're gonna come for me, baby. I want y'to come on m'fingers, then 'm gonna fuck you like y'want."

He didn't give her any room to respond as he kept his palm heavy on her clit and drilled the pads of his fingers to the sensitive spot inside her. He didn't relent, her senses becoming overwhelmed with nothing but him. Even the sheets smelled of him, there was nowhere she could turn without finding more of him to pull in.

Her toes curled as she allowed herself to sink into the pleasure brewing in her stomach, her nails digging into the flesh of his biceps. She could feel her insides tightening, ribboning together in a contracting bow. (Y/N) wasn't even sure if her lungs were working around the pounding of her heart, her breathing shallow.

Suddenly, the pleasure she was feeling and floating in was too much. Her muscles were bunched almost too tight, snug around his fingers and sucking him in as if there were more to be taken.

Letting go of his arm, she reached for his wrist for an anchor. "I—Wa—Harry, I—"

"I know, baby, I know," he breathed, shifting until he caught her swollen lips in a kiss, "You're gonna squirt f'me, yeah? Make a mess with me."

"I—I've never—I can't—"

"You can. You can and you will, baby. Squirt for daddy."

The culmination of the way he talked to her—the rockstar she'd admired for years—the weight of his body pinning her to the mattress, the sound of his unreleased music filtering through the heated room, and every stroke of his fingers through her pulsing walls had her giving way to his command.

(Y/N) swore every bit of her body bunched, her hand tight around the bones of his wrist, toes curls, and eyes squeezed shut. Harry never relented, working her through the heaviest weight in her stomach. In a heartbeat, everything her body was squeezing, holding inside herself, let go.

A gush came from between her legs, rushing out around the plug of his fingers in her pussy. Every shallow motion of his hand against her went from slick to completely wet sounding, every beat of his fingers coaxing another rush of cum from her.

With her mouth dropped in a wordless gape, (Y/N) felt Harry's eyes on her with the way her skin buzzed, hyperaware. Her mind was cast elsewhere, miles away with her body anchored right where she was underneath him. She wasn't sure when she would come back—if she even wanted to with the way the feeling washed over each of her nerve endings.

"Look at that," he murmured in awe, his voice finally sounding like more than a rumble through the rushing heartbeat in her ears. "Jus' like I asked. So good, baby. So good f'me."

The descent was slow, the aftershock of her orgasm lingering in her bones until it finally relented enough for her to crack her eyes open. Harry looked down at her, satisfied with dark eyes trained on her features. With a jolting touch to her clit, he pulled his hand out from her pulsing walls, leaving her swollen and sensitive between her thighs.

She could feel the inside of her thighs slick with her release, Harry's hand that landed on her hip just as sticky. Dipping his head down, he caught her in a languid kiss, nose nudging the bridge of hers. He was a bit too proud of himself, she thought, a dazed smile touching her lips.

"Told you, y'could," he mumbled into her kiss, "Gotta listen to me more, hm?"

"Maybe next time," she sighed, too out of it to try too hard to play along.

"Maybe, next time," he repeated, letting out a plume of laughter for the both of them. Letting go of her hip, she could feel Harry fiddling with the waist of his pants, fingertips brushing against her sensitive core. "Ready f'me to fuck you?

Her lashes fluttered in a blink, remembering his promise of giving her more tonight. Peering down at where his hands pushed down the band of his pants, she watched as his cock bobbed against his toned stomach. It was flushed red, head ruddy and slick with a vein vining along the shaft. A pearl of precum clung to the blocked muscles of his abs, where the length hit high under his navel.

Just the sight of his hard cock had her stomach twining once more. Truthfully, she wouldn't have imagined anything less—not with the way he carried himself.

"Baby," Harry sang, grabbing her attention, "Are y'ready? Gotta say it—tell me y'want me."

Whatever he saw on her face was enough to have a dimple denting his cheek, more than satisfied with the desire in her eyes. "I want you," she said, despite the quivering muscles in her thighs, "Please, daddy."

His features shifted at her words, darkening as his eyes dragged heavily over her body. The way he looked at her was enough to have goosebumps on her skin, lungs squeezing.

"Think 'm gonna fit?" he crooned, fisting his length as he dragged the crown through her slit.

Before she could answer, he laid his cock against the small of her stomach, lining it up to show just how far inside he would reach once sinking in. His balls pressed against her clit, setting a jolt up her spine. She could feel him throbbing, matching the rhythm of her heart.

"We-We'll make it fit."

His laugh was melodious, lighthearted amongst the atmosphere cultivated between them. He cut himself off when he reared his hips back and nudged the head of his cock against her opening, a soft wet noise slicking through the room. Nothing seemed to be too funny, then.

Reaching for the wrist to the hand keeping her thighs spread, (Y/N) anchored herself to him with the grip. She felt her walls split open as he pushed through, the flare of his head nudging through the squeezing pulses. A lingering whine sung from her throat, breathless and pitched.

Harry seemingly held his breath as he bottomed out inside her, his base smearing against her clit. He reached the farthest parts of her, crowding in her stomach. A whine of his name fell from her lips, her head falling back into the mattress with her eyes falling closed.

Falling over her, Harry rested his forehead on the shelf of her collarbones, a heavy breath fanning across her heated skin. The press of his body atop hers was a comforting weight, keeping her wriggling form steady among the sheets.

A whispered curse was felt against her skin just before Harry reared his hips back. The slide of his cock through her walls gave a pleasant burn, reminding her just how far she was stretching to fit him in. The slick of her gushing orgasm was more than enough to help him through the pulsing, wet noises sodding from where their bodies joined.

Just as she adjusted to the slide of his length, Harry thrusted forward once more, keeping her stretched around him. He curated a rhythm, spearing through her in lingering draws. The breath was knocked out of her everytime, matching the heavy breaths Harry panted.

"So wet for me, baby," he murmured, voice strained, "Fuck—Gonna make y'squirt for me again, yeah? Gonna do it again for daddy?"

A loud moan filtered from her, reverberating through her chest with her head thrown back. This wasn't going to take long, she was sure. She was already twisted up inside, incredibly sensitive given the kind of pleasure he'd given her just minutes before. Every time he pulled out, leaving just his tip inside, the ridge ground against the spongy spot hidden between her walls. As soon as he sank inside, her clit was pressed against his base. Each touch stole her breath, lungs stilted.

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," she frantically agreed, "I—I'm so close—fuck."

"I know y'are," he crooned, teeth gritted, "'M gonna—Where do y'want me, baby?

Her answer was immediate, a breathy moan, "My tits."

She could feel the way he twitched inside her, nudging hard against her snug walls. "I can do that for you, baby. Is thi-this what you've thought about—what y'wanted when y'came to m'show tonight?"

Reaching up and looping her arms around his neck, she pulled him close once more, their mouths resting against one another though there was no energy to be had to turn it into a kiss. "You made me so wet during the show," she admitted, the words sweeping across his mouth, "I wanted you to fuck me so bad."

His hips bucked harshly against her own. "As soon as I saw you," he started, his voice graveled, "I knew I was taking y'home tonight."

He caught her in a kiss, messy and off-centered. He plucked his teeth against her bottom lip, the sting running down her spine in a clarifying jolt. She wrapped her legs around his hips, ankles crossing behind his back as he kept her close, disrupting his rhythm. Her toes curled as his thrusts turned into lingering rolls against her, shooting his head deeper.

This time, the growing spiral in her stomach came on quickly. The knot she was now familiar with built quickly, heavy and tight with every grind of his base against her clit. It was all too much, enough to have her crying into his mouth.

"Squirt for me, baby," he murmured, coaxing her closer to the edge with every rumble of his voice, "Show daddy how much y'want me."

She didn't have to think—unable to think—her orgasm came rushing. Though it wasn't quite as messy as the first time, she could still feel the gush between her legs, fighting against the plug of his cock. It was hard and fast, knocking the breath out of her to leave her mouth dropped in a silent gape.

It wasn't until she was beginning to see the other side that she heard Harry's voice, a string of curses, coming out through gritted teeth, could be heard. She was still high in the clouds when he pulled out, shifting up to his knees on the bed until he was hovering above her. Cracking her eyes open, she could see the same wild look in his eyes that she was sure was in hers, dazed and out of this world.

Fisting his length, his hand squelched along his shaft for only a handful of pumps until his cum gushed over her. Just as she asked, the ropes landed across her chest. Her skin was already heated enough, but the trails he left over her breasts were that much more. The sight of him working his own cock was enough to have her breathless once more, though her body was too sensitive to feel anything but a jolt through her nerve endings.

Harry with his head thrown back, moaned out her name and strings of curses. Even these moments sounded like notes, perfect for setting to music.

Once the world came back into focus, (Y/N) could feel cum drying on her chest, her own wetness sticking to the inside of her thighs. Harry dropped to the mattress beside her, chest heaving and flushed. His eyes were closed though his head was turned to face her, raspberry lips swollen and parted.

With the limited light from the lamp, he was bathed in buttery warmth. His chest sparkled with a sheen of sweat, droplets having run between the blocks of muscle underneath the inked lines of his tattoos.

He took his time joining her back in this moment, his eyes shuttered closed as he ran her eyes over his features. If she had a camera with her, she would have had to take a shot of this—the moment pretty enough to end up as an album cover. The haze in her head did little to stop her from reaching out and tracing her fingertips over his face, just barely grazing her skin in glancing touches.

A blooming smile made its way onto his lips, dimples denting his cheeks.

"C'mere," he murmured, voice graveled and rocky.

Despite the drying cum on her skin, Harry welcomed her into his arms, settling her against his chest. Holding her close, he nosed at the top of her head, uncaring about the sweat entwined in the strands of her hair.

(Y/N) practically melted into his hold. She hadn't expected cuddling was a part of the package tonight.

Her body grew heavy in his hold, the night's events catching up to her. Even without everything happening in this hotel—from the party to being invited into his suite—she had also been to a concert tonight, flush to the barricade. Her body was spent, even if her head pinged with reminders of just who had made it that way.

It wasn't until the crackling stopped that she realized that the tape finally ended, needing to be replaced or turned to the other side. She couldn't even be bummed that she missed out on these unreleased tracks. She'd hear them again someday, probably. She wouldn't have this night again.

She wasn't sure how long they laid with one another, cuddled and messy, before Harry's voice poked through the silence.

"What are y'doing this summer?"

A plume of laughter left her lips. Now was the time for small talk?

"I don't know," she smiled, "Why?"

Playing with the ends of her hair, Harry's tone was casual as he spoke, "Well, m'next show is this Saturday. Y'coming with me?"

Her heart lagged.

"What?"

It was his turn to let out a breathy laugh. "I want y'to come with me, love. We could do this every night for as long as y'want."

Before she could think better of it, another question blurted from her lips. "Why?"

Harry paused. "Y'make me laugh—and cum faster than I should, but don't tell anyone that."

In the dark of his suite, clothes puddled on the floor and bodies sticky, (Y/N) couldn't wait to pick up a diary just to write out how they laughed together.

"You're that easy?"

"I suppose I am, love."

—————

its been a super long time since I wrote something with the plain intent of writing smut so I hope this turned out well shufshfuhs thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and please lmk if you have any fun ideas or requests!

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