#harry hole x you

[slytherinslut0]

tom riddle. | this is your punishment

PAIRING: tom riddle x fem!reader

SUMMARY: prefect tom riddle catches you breaking the rules again, and this time decides to provide a different type of punishment he’s certain you won’t soon forget.

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

TAGS: 18+, SMUT MDNI, dubcon (entirely consensual), dom!tom, brat!reader, BDSM (light), intense humiliation kink, sexual punishment/ forced orgasm, inappropriate use of magic/spells, clit-stim orgasm, begging.

You had thirty minutes.

Thirty minutes to dance with disaster. Thirty minutes to dodge destruction. Thirty minutes to descend into the depths of the library, infiltrate the restricted section, slip the book on occlumency you clandestinely borrowed back into its rightful place, and ascend back to your dormitory before the harbinger of your nightmares—Head Prefect Tom Riddle—emerges from the prefects' bathroom and winds his way back down to the dungeons.

Thirty minutes felt like both an eternity and a heartbeat. The weight of impending doom pressing down on your chest as you crept through the darkened corridors, each shadow a lurking menace, each creak of the ancient floorboards a deafening scream that could betray your presence.

And though the stakes were disastrously high, you weren't entirely worried; you knew Tom Riddle's schedule as intimately as the lines on your palm, and he was nothing if not a creature of habit. But of course, there was always the chance. The slim, terrifying possibility that he might deviate from his usual routine. And being caught by him was the absolute last thing you needed right now.

Every second felt like a blade poised above your head, ready to drop at the slightest misstep. It was no secret that Tom Riddle had it out for you. By now, it was practically etched into the very stones of Hogwarts, a fact as immutable as gravity. Everywhere you went, every step you took, he was always there—watching, waiting, eager to catch you in some transgression.

The relentless scrutiny was exhausting. The number of detentions you'd served was staggering, the punishments you'd endured endless. Not to mention the droning, entirely condescending lectures and disappointed yet gleeful stares he always made sure to give you as he personally hauled you to Dumbledores office.

It was all bullshit, and certainly had nothing to do with your frequent rule-breaking or constant sneaking around. No, of course not. You most definitely never toed the line. You were as innocent as they come. As pure as the driven snow. In your mind it all boiled down to the fact that Tom Riddle had it out for you, plain and fucking simple. A personal vendetta written into the fabrication of his identity.

Because even if he did. Even if he did somehow manage to track you and uncover your clandestine activities by just being the perceptive cunning bastard that he is, there are certain things that simply defy logic. Some occurrences that just don't add up.

There are just some instances that can't be explained, save for the simplest conclusion: Tom Riddle has been inside your mind for months.

And that was precisely why you sought out the book on Occlumency—you needed it. Needed to learn how to block Tom out because if he wanted to play mind games, you were determined to play better. You were determined to keep up.

You knew Tom took pleasure in continually getting one step ahead of you, and as much as it utterly ticked you off—perhaps a twisted part of you enjoyed being caught by him—savoured the banter you shared including his threats that next time he'd take matters into his own hands, since even Dumbledore was growing tired of your antics. Perhaps you revelled in provoking him, in defying him like no other student dared, relishing the thrill of the chase.

Perhaps you simply loved to hate him. Because he was always so goddamn good at everything, always in control. It was maddening, intoxicating, and you couldn't deny the rush it gave you. His perfection was a thorn in your side, and yet, you craved it, sought it out like a moth to a flame, even if you'd never admit it.

Not to yourself, and most definitely not to him.

As the night droned on, you managed to make it to the library unscathed, slipping into the restricted section unseen. Everything was going according to plan, not a soul around to forsake you. And yet, just as you slipped the book back onto its origin shelf, you heard a distant yet distinct voice, accompanied by the determined clacking of perfectly polished dress shoes.

"—ah, yes. I believe I informed him that I would have an answer by tomorrow evening."

That voice. You could never fucking mistake it.

"—well, yes, Mr.Riddle—but he said—"

"No matter." The footsteps ceased. "You'll both await my determination until tomorrow's eve. Continue pressing and I will see to make you wait two more."

The bile rose in your throat, threatening to spill over onto the floor beneath you. His arrogance had always been a towering monument, casting shadows that seemed to suffocate all reason. Sure, he was the brightest star in the firmament, undeniably brilliant with features rivaling the gods themselves—chiseled jawline, captivating dark eyes—practically born to bask in his own glory.

Yet, for all his outward perfection, his self-assurance bordered on the verge of the grotesque.

"—yes, o-of course, Mr. Riddle..." you stifled a distasteful scoff. You weren't sure how that individual was even standing with such lack of spine. "—t-thank you, sir."

You didn't stick around to hear a response or the lack thereof. The voices were far enough to keep you breathing but close enough to damn near make you faint because you knew he was most likely just outside the iron gates. You couldn't afford to ponder the improbability of his presence or the surrealness of your predicament. You had to move—deeper, further out of sight.

Which was going perfectly well until you rounded a corner with a little too much intensity and collided directly into a small round table. The sharp screech of wood against wood cutting through the thick silence like a blade, echoing ominously in the vast, dim library. Panic seized you, every nerve electrified, as if the table's cry had been your own.

And it was roughly ten devastating seconds after this that you heard the creak of the iron gates opening behind you, and those same polished footsteps drawing forward with haste.

Fucking hell.

You'd spent enough time in the Forbidden Forest to know how to keep your calm, to know how to effectively avoid being noticed—how to silence your footsteps and slip around obstacles without leaving a trace, how to mask your scent with earth and leaves, how to blend into the shadows to avoid becoming prey to the creatures that lurk in the depths. Yet, the only predator you'd never been able to successfully evade was the one you were currently running from.

Tom Marvolo Riddle.

A shadow that clung to you, a hunter whose senses were always sharper, whose instincts were always keener. No matter how well you hid, he always seemed to find you, as if he could sense the very beat of your heart.

Tonight—to your naive surprise, was no different.

"Think you can hide from me, do you?" Tom's voice slithered through the narrow gap between the shelves, smooth and dark as midnight. "Not quite stealthy enough, I'm afraid."

You pressed your back against the cold wood, trying to steady your breathing, but his words seemed to wrap around your throat, squeezing the air out of your lungs and replacing it with something dizzying.

"Why don't you come out, little snake?" He purred, his footsteps drawing closer, each one a death knell. "We both know how this game ends."

Little snake. Two words that rooted you to the spot. It was impossible, inconceivable that he could know it was you. Yet the nickname, the venomous familiarity of it, left no room for doubt.

You slipped around the corner, the two of you making calculated moves like chess pieces. Your board was one of evasion, his one of domination. The gates were in clear view now as you paused to determine his position, silently mapping the space between here and there, certain that if you ran fast enough you could make it—if you moved quietly enough he wouldn't know which direction you were heading.

"You're only making this worse for yourself, darling." Arrogance so thick you weren't sure how he wasn't choking on it. And as much as you detested it, something about it sparked heat between your thighs. "You know I always win."

With the desperation of a cornered, wounded animal, you decided you were done playing and began making a silent yet brisk path toward the gates. You knew you could get about three shelves deep before you needed to take cover again. The silence was deafening, urging you to move faster.

And just as you were about to reach your next hiding spot, just about to duck back in between the shelves, a sudden sensation of pressure coiled around your ankle, cementing you to the spot.

"What the f-"

It was as if the very air had turned to iron, suffocating you with its weight. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared down, disbelief flooding your senses. The once innocuous carpet beneath your feet now glowed with enchantment, its fibres twisting and contorting, snaking around your ankles and climbing steadily up your calves.

"There she is." It was an echo from behind you, deep vocal inflection choking you with its pride. "Always so deliciously predictable.”

The fibres wound tightly around your upper calves, constricting tighter against your leggings as you squirmed, struggling to free yourself. Tom appeared beside you with a leisurely saunter, his smirk so smug it seemed almost tangible.

Your frustration bubbled over into a groan of disbelief. "You charmed the fucking carpet?"

"Of course," Tom replied. "Why do things the hard way when magic can do it for you?" He stepped closer, his eyes roaming over you, drinking in your entirety, running the tip of his wand up your arm. "You should know, little snake, I always find a way to catch my prey."

You watched as two dark eyes dipped low, lingering over the thickness of your thighs, fighting against the tendrils of the enchanted carpet that had now crawled tightly around them. You certainly felt like captured prey, tangled in a web of his making, awaiting his next move—and he certainly didn't miss how tantalizingly prepared for him you were, like a gift waiting to be unravelled.

"Impressive, Riddle—you've really outdone yourself this time," you spat the words through clenched teeth, fighting the urge to smack his wand away, battling the unwanted heat pooling in your core. It was the way he was looking at you. The way you wanted him to keep doing it. "Guess you can add 'carpet tamer' to your long list of accolades now, huh?"

Tom huffed, a glint of amusement dancing in his dark eyes as he forced them up to meet yours. The corners of his lips curled upward in a smirk, every pore radiating control. He looked at you as though you were a puzzle he had already solved, a game he had already won.

"Now now, darling, no need to be so dramatic." His free hand reached up and grasped your jaw, kinking your neck back as he stepped closer to you. "Though, I think 'little fucking brat tamer' might be the more notable achievement to add to the list."

Your stomach leapt, your teeth sinking into your tongue for a moment as you fought to gather your sanity. Your defiance was draining like sand in an hourglass.

"Hm." You huffed, the grip on your jaw firm as steel. "Quite the mouthful."

"So I've been told," he shot back, his eyes glinting like shards of glass under the dim light. "You'd know all about mouthfuls, wouldn't you?"

"You fucking wish." You hoped he did.

His smirk deepened, his fingers digging into your skin like iron claws. You could tell he was amused by you, as though you'd just delivered the punchline of the century, as though you were the world's most revered stand-up comedian. It was maddeningly infuriating and dangerously captivating all at once.

"Still wielding that weapon of a tongue, even when you've so clearly lost." He remarked with a click of his own tongue, releasing his grip on your jaw. Stepping back, his eyes devoured the sight of his spell tangled around your thighs. You caught the tension in his jaw before his eyes snapped back to yours. "Tell me, little snake, do you know why I admire this spell so much?"

Your gaze remained fixed on him, anticipation crawling over your skin like a colony of ants as he scrutinized you. You offer him a shake of your head, a scowl etched deep on your features. "Can't read your mind, Riddle. Not everyone is a skilled Legilimens like yourself."

Tom's chuckle rang out, swallowed by the thick tension in the air, suffusing the oxygen you desperately tried to gulp down. He moved to circle you, and you felt his presence looming behind you, his body brushing against yours like a whisper in the wind. One hand found your hip, however softly, as though he was reluctant to touch you.

"It's a very versatile spell, darling," he dismissed your sass, his voice stripped of all emotion as his lips hovered closer to your ear. "The best part being...I know exactly how to manipulate it to get you to listen."

Words withered on your tongue, attitude wilting in your lungs, and oxygen fleeing from your veins—never to return. Tom's looming presence behind you was enough to make your chest constrict, but his words—his words were a different beast altogether. In the countless times he's caught you, never once did you imagine yourself here, like this, with him.

And never once did you imagine yourself enjoying it this fucking much.

"One might describe it as remarkably adaptable, catering to a multitude of desires..." his hand floated away from your hip, his fingers subtly dancing—the coils responding to his ministrations and slithering higher up your thighs. "And you, little brat, have a plethora of desires at this moment, do you not?"

Your jaw nearly smacked the floor as you watched him command the spell without the aid of his wand. You felt your stomach twist into an iron knot, something heating your blood to flame. Perhaps you underestimated him, perhaps you-

"F-fuck-" you gasped as the charmed fibres slithered between your thighs, coiling higher and higher, wrapping around your waist and ensnaring your arms at your sides. The pressure on your cunt sent your head reeling, your entire body quivering. "Tom...what..."

You know Tom is just beaming with satisfaction, the tremor in your voice eliciting a low growl from deep within him as his hold on your hip resumes, his lips teasing the sensitive skin behind your ear.

"Speak up, little doll, articulate your thoughts," he murmured, his words dripping with cunning like poison. "I know you possess an abundance of them."

You suppress a groan, squirming in a futile attempt to free your wrists, to move against the relentless hold. The heat of Tom's presence behind you has your senses in a frenzy. Your head spinning, your body silently yearning for more. You despise how much you're enjoying this, whatever this even is.

You whimper, lids fluttering. "This...this isn't fair..."

"Neither is disobeying the rules every fucking chance you get—but here we are," his hand brushed against your thigh, fingertips barely grazing, his voice drifting further from your ear. "You should understand, this is all your own doing...the charm merely responds to your desires, adapting to fulfill them.”

That insufferable bastard. The list of descriptors you'd use to paint his portrait would stretch longer than the very library you're standing in, and then some. Every time you think you've unraveled his mysteries, he unveils another layer that exposes just how brilliantly twisted he truly is. How charming. How intoxicating.

You loathe him, relish in despising every fiber of his being. Yet you can't deny the fact that he outmaneuvered you, in the most tantalizing manner imaginable.

But still, you attempt to deny it. "That's...that's not..."

He muses. "Isn't it?"

Tom withdraws his hand from your thigh, and almost immediately, you ache for its return, the absence of his touch leaving you yearning. Caught off guard by the tendrils of the charm exerting pressure against your core, teasing over your clit, you squeeze your eyes shut, teeth sinking into your lip to stifle any sounds.

"It appears you have a penchant for challenging me..." his voice is a certain murmur. "It seems the charm knows precisely why.”

All the smugness of a deity himself, a walking, talking colossus among mere mortals. As inevitable as the sunrise each morning. It made you want to bare your teeth at him, but instead, all you could manage was a groan, struggling against the pleasure his charm inflicted upon you.

"I'm not quite certain what you would deem a fitting punishment..." he continues, voice as deep as the depths of your desire. As dark as an all encompassing black hole. "—given the countless ones you've endured in the past months, which have clearly taught you nothing."

You groan again, your head bowing as you gaze down at the tendrils of the enchantment, ensnaring you in the clutches of a man with teeth of diamonds, fingers like razor-sharp claws. It'd been a relentless dance of dominance between you for years, a battle of wills that always seems to end in his favor.

You despise how he effortlessly wields his power over you. How he has so easily read between the lines of your story—knowing precisely the effect he has on your body, knowing exactly what you crave.

You fight back a moan. "Mmmff—fuck..you..."

Tom maneuvers his mouth to your ear, his presence pressing against you from behind, the ghost of his breath caresses your skin as he whispers;

"You wish you could."

Beautiful, insufferable bastard.

"Fuck," you huff through gritted teeth, sweat gathering behind your neck, fingernails biting into your palms as you clench your fists, still battling against the overwhelming pleasure. "Get out of my head.."

You feel a low chuckle resonate against your back, its vibrations stirring something primal within you, his fingers grazing against your side.

"Do you truly believe this is mere manipulation, little snake?" Tom's touch begins to ascend, feather-light and elusive, barely registering against your clothes as he presses closer behind you. "I am intimately acquainted with your desires, darling. I've been privy to them for months." You can almost taste the smugness in his voice. "The truth is fairly simple—you crave me, and you despise yourself for it."

Tom takes a deliberate step back, circling around to stand before you, his gaze sweeping over your disheveled form. Your breath comes in rapid gasps, your skin flushed with desire, and you find yourself unable to tear your eyes away from him. You yearn for more of him, yet you resist acknowledging it, even to yourself.

It's as though he can see your thoughts, his eyes darkening as he drinks you in. "You'd go to any lengths to avoid admitting it, wouldn't you?"

"Gods—" he's right, and you hate him for it. “Mmmf.”

Tom hums softly, his lips barely suppressing a smirk as he steps closer to you. He reaches up, his fingertips brushing against your skin as he tilts your chin, compelling you to meet his gaze.

"How about we try a simple question?" His dark eyes bore into yours, their depths ablaze with a devilish glint. "Do you wish it to stop?"

You're rendered speechless. The egotistic side of you wants you to say yes—while the other, larger part is consumed with an insatiable hunger for more, for him. The charm swirls over your clit, applying increased pressure against your leggings, causing you to bite down on your bottom lip again to stifle a desperate moan. You couldn't answer him if you tried.

Tom's eyes roam over your face, not willing to miss a thing. "Use your words...tell me what you need..."

The sensation against your clit intensifies further, as if dancing to the rhythm of his words. You can feel his gaze boring into you as the heat between your thighs surges, and you realize you're on the brink of climax. And Tom knows it.

"Fuck..." your hips twitch involuntarily—torn between craving more friction and fleeing from it—your mind a whirlwind of uncertainty. Tom brushes his thumb over your bottom lip, his gaze fixed on his own movements, and you feel yourself unraveling, succumbing to the scorching intensity of his eyes—two dark pools of permanent ink. "Tom...please..."

His grip tightens. His jaw clenches. "Say it."

Shame courses through your veins, searing your skin like molten lava, the prickling sensation drowning you. You're on the verge of climaxing from an enchanted carpet, a manifestation of his spell, and the humiliation threatens to consume you.

"I need you-" you gasp, the words tumbling from your lips in a pitiful plea, desperation sinking its claws into your soul. So close...too close. "Please—please, I—I don't want to cum from this—I..."

Oh, but you do. You most certainly fucking do though the mere thought of admitting it feels like a dagger twisting in your gut. Tom's eyes glint with amusement, his head cocked slightly as he regards you with a faux expression of pity, as artificial as the plastic plants in the common room.

"I've truly made a mess of you, haven't I?" His hand glides down from your face, tracing a path along your neck, lightly grazing over your collarbone. "Tell me what you want from me."

Gods, you ache to strike him—yet crave to kiss him and cry out his name with equal fervour. Your defiance lies shattered, a broken relic at your feet.

You peer up at him, pleading. "Please, Tom, please touch me—I need you..."

A smirk toys at his lips, his fingers slipping under your jaw once more to hold you steady as he leans in closer.

"Touch you?" His voice is like a loaded gun, his fingers the bullets—intent cocked and ready to annihilate, but instead he taunts you, keeps you on edge, pressing the barrel against your temple just to see the look in your eyes. "You want me, the man you so madly fucking detest, to touch you."

You lack the strength to command him to go to hell, but oh, how you wish you did. Just to witness his reaction, to see what he’d do next. Despite his appalling self-assurance, you can see behind the mask—see how he is genuinely taken aback by your submission, as though he never expected you to surrender, to confess your desire for him.

"Tom, please..." you beg, trembling with anticipation, your impending climax a rapidly swelling tide. "I want you...I want you to make me cum—you-you win."

Tom pulls back from your ear to regard you, his gaze fully focused this time. He takes in the sight of you—trembling, panting, wide-eyed before him—his expression conveying complete contentment in simply observing you as you struggle to persuade him to touch you.

That familiar taunting grin lingers upon his lips, uncontainable, and you know he's relishing this moment far too much.

"I know," he says softly, his thumb tracing your jawline as his hand falls to your neck. "I always do, don't I, little doll..."

His voice drifts over you like smoke, thick and intoxicating, wrapping around you in a dizzying embrace. The intensity of the charm wavers slightly, granting you a momentary reprieve to catch your breath as Tom leans in, so close that you can feel his exhales caressing your lips. Your head spins, every sense overwhelmed by his presence.

"But you deserve this—" he continues, his voice a rumble like thunder through your veins. "—you deserve to be humiliated like this, to break for me without my hands ever touching you." His mouth hovers just millimeters from yours, taunting you with its nearness. "This is your punishment, little doll...and you're going to take it."

The pleasure between your thighs swells once more as the charm resumes its sinuous movements and you can't suppress the moan that escapes your lips, mingling with the groan of utter frustration. All you can do is stare at him.

Tom hums, amused. "Because you revel in it, don't you? Being a little disobedient brat..."

Your eyes glaze over, your pulse soaring as Tom's breath once again brushes against your parted lips. The ache for him is almost unbearable, as if he's injected something into your veins, rendering you unable to function without him. It's maddening, in the most exquisite way imaginable.

"You're-ohh-fuck.." your voice comes out as a moan, low and breathy, the words trailing off as the charm adds pressure to your clit, stars dancing at the edges of your vision. "Gods..."

"There we go, just as I like you,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing over your jaw. "Unable to unleash that pretty little mouth. Perfectly shattered for me."

You clench around nothing, yearning to scoff. "Mmmf—never..."

Tom chuckles at your feeble attempt at defiance, though the sound carries a hollow, half-hearted quality. You both know you've passed the point of return. His fingers trace along the edge of your jaw, until his palm cradles your face, his thumb brushing gently across your lips.

"Is that so?" He murmurs softly, his dark eyes locked onto yours. "Well then, go ahead...let that pretty mouth run wild...prove that your defiance is more than just an act..."

The way he wields his power has you teetering on the brink of madness, and you despise the fact that you've revelled in every torturous moment of it. You long to snap back, to wield your tongue, to curse him—anything to grasp onto even a shred of control. But every fucking word is a struggle, every moment not focused on your breathing is an achievement.

You squeeze your eyes shut, channeling all the energy you have left. "You...you're such an...arrogant—mmf—I...I hate you..."

"Mhm. You hate me." He cooes. "And yet, here you are..." his voice is as soft as feathers, as warm as the morning sun, the unmistakable taunt laced within. His thumb presses against your bottom lip, slipping between your teeth. "...falling apart for a mere spell, begging for me, for my touch..."

You feel Tom's thumb pressing against your tongue as you whimper. You attempt to speak, to convey something, but instead, you find yourself instinctively sucking lightly against his thumb in response.

"Mm." Tom's brow lifts slightly, amusement dancing in his eyes. He seems pleased with your reaction. "A much better use for that mouth."

You're beyond caring about the way he's taunting you, how he's systematically humiliated and debased you, stripping away every ounce of defiance without ever even touching your skin. Tremors wrack your body from the overwhelming sensations, rendering coherent thought nearly impossible.

Your head lolls to the side, constrained by his hand, as waves of pleasure crash over you, your climax approaching rapidly and dangerously.

"Fuck-I'm..." you manage to squeak, his thumb still nestled in your mouth. "Mmmf-"

Tom's eyes darken with satisfaction as he watches you unravel, his thumb pressing deeper into your mouth, a silent command for you to keep sucking. The enchantment continues its relentless assault—tightening around you, swirling over your clit and amplifying the pleasure until it's almost unbearable.

"Go on," he murmurs, his voice a blend of silk and steel. "Let go for me. Show me just how much you need this."

Your body trembles violently, your muscles tensing as the climax rips through you. You can't hold back the moan that escapes around his thumb, your entire being consumed by the intensity of the release that you've desperately fought off for so long. Tom's grip on your jaw tightens, keeping you in place, ensuring you can't escape the exquisite torment he's orchestrated.

"There it is," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "Perfectly broken, just for me."

Your eyes are squeezed shut so tightly it's almost painful, his thumb buried in your mouth muffling any sounds of pleasure that threaten to escape. The evidence of your desire pools between your thighs, your embarrassment stripping you raw as you slowly begin to return to reality, the spell gradually losing its grip around you.

You struggle to find your breath, your thoughts, your sanity, but Tom doesn't grant you much reprieve before he's tugging your head back towards his, forcing you to focus on him.

"You should see yourself." He withdraws his thumb from your mouth, trailing the remnants of saliva over your cheek as he assesses you. "You're a vision."

You try to summon the strength to argue, to reclaim some semblance of defiance, but the attempt dies in your throat, unable to comprehend the fact that those words sounded like a fucking compliment. Your body is trembling with the aftershocks of your climax, and you can only manage a soft whimper. He looks at you as if you are his masterpiece, perfectly crafted and beautifully ruined.

"Remember this, little snake," he whispers, his breath ghosting over your lips. "Remember how easily I can break you. How much you crave it."

You exhale slowly as you feel the charm dissipate, the carpet settling back into its rightful place at your feet. Tom's hand falls away from your face, but the tension between you remains palpable, neither of you daring to make a move.

"And as for the book," he adds, his eyes flashing to the bookshelf behind you, the one home to the Occlumency text you borrowed. "You may want to keep it. You're not nearly as skilled as you think you are."

And with that, he smooths out his uniform and strides past you without a second glance.

thank you to my babies @doremimosasol and @pizzaapeteer for proofreading this. means the world to me🖤

[writingsfromhome]

Things to Learn

Request: hiii idk if youve thought about this but what about a mean girl!yn and nerd!harry high school fic or something like that :))

A/N: it is what the request says, idk if this is exactly what you wanted but writing a mean girl!yn was different for me. I also wrote this from Harry’s third pov so that’s also different lol. Hope you enjoy it? Thanks for the req :) <3

Part 1 / 2 / 3 /

———————————————

Harry hated girls like her. Hate was a strong word, he knew that. And he used it still.

He eyes her again as she sits on the lunch table and talks animatedly to her friends about something shallow or irrelevant. He goes back to the sandwich he had for lunch.

“She’s out of your league mate,” Harry’s best friend tells him.

“What?”

“YN? You’re staring at her. She’s out of your league. Like so far that even if you climbed a mountain and looked over everything you wouldn’t be able to see-“

“I got it,” Harry didn’t like her. He knew she was well out of his league and he didn’t care. He had one more year of this shite called high school and then he was off to uni. His sister always told him high school labels didn’t follow you there. “I don’t even like her. I was just looking.”

His friend makes a noise, he didn’t believe him.

“I’m serious. Ms. Easton partnered us in history probably because she’s not doing well. I’ve got the highest grade. But she’s insufferable.”

“You’re insufferable,” his friend shoots back. “If I was partnered with her I’d be shooting my shot. Every chance.”

“I’d rather shoot myself,” Harry mutters. He had history next period and he wasn’t looking forward to it. Their class had booked the library for research period and that meant suffering through it with YN.

He’s first to arrive at the library and books a computer. They were researching the royal family, he didn’t know what angle the paper was going to be from but he would figure it out later. Alone. Because YN was always too busy not giving a shit.

The truth was, he just didn’t understand girls like YN. How they could be so shallow and rude for no reason, he didn’t think the world was rainbows and unicorns but it was decent to just be a little nicer. She was judgemental, loud, and of course attractive as hell. But her personality ruined any good looks in his opinion. So even though he was staring at lunch, he didn’t find her very attractive.

“I guess we’re sitting here,” speak of the devil. Surprisingly YN is here before the bell goes off. She sits in the seat next to Harry and her bag is thrown on the floor.

“Hi to you too,” Harry mutters. He ignores her, continuing to flip through his textbook for the correct chapter.

“Have we decided on a topic?”

Harry grits his teeth. I don’t know YN have we? Instead he says, “No.”

“Oh, well why not just do it on what’s going on right now?”

“Because it’s a history class,” Harry finally look at her. He remembers it was a little nerve wracking to do that when they were first partnered but now his annoyance triumphed any nerves.

“And?” She scrunches her brows. “Isn’t that the point?”

She had no idea what she was talking about. He shakes his head and goes back to his textbook.

“You don’t have to be such a nerd all the time you know that?” She continues.

Harry ignores her.

“Hello?” She snaps her fingers. Who did she think she was?

“Can we just work?” Harry couldn’t stand her.

The bell rings. YN picks up her phone in a huff and Harry goes back to Googling for their project.

***

Harry packs his bag with the books he needs as students rush past him to go home. His bag weighed a million pounds and he’s pretty sure it aged his back 40 years but it was either his grades or his back that suffered.

“Hey Harry,” a voice calls out to him as we heads out the door. He turns to it; Raina, one of YN’s friends. She twirls her blonde hair and tilts her head. “It is Harry right?”

“Uhm,” suddenly Harry’s throat was parched. Raina was gorgeous and gorgeous girls never spoke to him.

“You’re cute,” she gets up close and personal with Harry and everything in that big brain of his liquifies and slides away. “So I heard you’re giving my bestie a hard time.”

“Your-uh,” what was wrong with him? Focus!

“My bestie! YN?”

“Oh,” the name snaps him out. Was this a prank, why was Raina talking to him? “W-what?”

“I thought you were smart,” she tilts her head again, this time Harry understands it to be condescending. “Did you not understand the question?”

Harry hears a snicker from behind him. His heart drops, he knew what was happening yet he walked right into it.

“Harry’s really smart,” YN’s voice comes from behind. “So smart he can’t even talk to me. Like, I’ll bring down your IQ or something right?”

“I never said that,” Harry turns, back to the wall like he was in some sort of fight for his life and he had to cover all his angles.

“Then what’s your problem?” YN demands. Her friend takes a back seat, staring at him from behind YN’s shoulder.

“I didn’t say I had one,” Harry mumbles.

“What? Speak up!” With one hand on her hip, YN was the image of a mean girl. Harry’s gaze flickers up to her face and he realizes she was actually angry. At him. He looks away.

“You’re so pathetic,” she tells him. “You can barely look me in the eye when I’m talking to you but you think you’re a hot shot just cuz you get straight As. You can take your intellectual superiority and shove it up your ass.”

He was surprised to hear her say intellectual superiority, then he realizes the irony of thinking that.

“This guy bothering you?”

Great. Harry hitches his backback higher on his shoulders. One of YN’s soccer star boyfriends had joined. He looks Harry up and down with a condescending smirk.

“No, I got it.” YN says but her friend opens her big mouth.

“He thinks he’s the smartest person here, he treats YN like shite.”

“Really?” He turns to Harry and now is when Harry realizes he was deep in. There was no way out.

“I’m sorry,” he looks YN in the eye and only her. He had to make a quick exit, find a way out of this before these meatheads decided to defend YN’s honour or something like that.

“Too late for sorry,” Raina says. Another guy—Brett joins the crowd.

“What’s going on?” He asks.

“Nothing,” YN says while her eyes stay on Harry.

“Hey Harry! Mate! This guy helped me pass my maths last semester.”

“Yeah he’s a nerd,” the other guy says to Brett. “That’s the point.”

“Hey Brett,” Harry nods. He should go, he thinks. Make a move. Get out of this circle forming around him.

“He’s a dick to YN,” Raina reminds everyone. What was her issue? “And he’s always staring at her like a creep.”

YN turns to look at her friend. Raina widens her eyes and shrugs.

“What the fuck?” The other guy, Harry had no idea what his name was, steps closer to Harry. “Are you a fucking perv?”

Statistically, this guy with his brute force and reactivity was probably more likely to be a perv over the years than Harry. But Harry doesn’t think it’s a good time to say that.

“Anyway,” YN says and with that all eyes are on her. “Apology not accepted. I’m over this let’s go.”

She walks away from him, Raina eyes him and follows. Their friend gives Harry the stink eye and follows too. Brett’s left. He shrugs and finally leaves Harry alone.

Little by little the breath comes back to his lungs and with shaky steps Harry exits the building. Some students lingering in the hall stare as he goes, probably the audience to what almost went down. And this was why Harry hated YN.

***

Over the next week Harry tries to be less intellectually superior to YN and practices looking her in the eye. He doesn’t know why it was so hard.

And it surprises him when the words coming out of her mouth aren’t entirely superficial and basic. But she continues to verbally abuse and belittle him and Harry continues to take it, his ire growing more by the day.

Just on Tuesday, at lunch she’d sent one of her boyfriends to sit at his table where he threatened Harry. Harry’s friend had stared at his phone the whole time, traitor. And yesterday YN had listed for him all the ways he could improve his appearance during class.

“Your hair could use a nice trim,” she tells him. “And your glasses are so 1970s. Like not in a trendy way. And honestly Harry why do you wear clothes that are too big and too old. Like seriously…”

It was hard not to be a know-it-all when that’s what she wanted to spend her time talking about.

“My appearance isn’t really a priority for me,” Harry had said hoping to shut her up.

“It really should be. Hey,” she’d called out to a friend of hers in class. “Don’t you think Harry’s style is sad?”

“Him?” Her friend had asked, like she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to say it in front of him. Harry had burned with embarrassment. “Yeah I reckon he could use a makeover.”

“Yeah maybe then he’d get a girlfriend. Get his nose out of his books.”

They laughed and the sound was haunting. Harry stayed staring at his book, gritting his teeth. He’d never had a girlfriend, gone on two dates in his life. It didn’t usually bother him but somehow YN made it feel like an open wound.

On Thursday, they have another research period.

“And how are we doing here?” Ms. Easton leans down and balances on their table. Harry and YN opted for a table and books this period.

“Good,” YN sits up. “Just finishing our research.”

“Good,” Ms. Easton smiles. “Did you two decide on a topic?”

Harry doesn’t look but he can feel her rolling her eyes. “Yeah. Harry wanted to do the royal family and their war legacy.”

“Hm.”

Harry was sensitive to feedback. When you’re smart you don’t get a lot of criticism, and when you do, it’s a hard pill to swallow. That’s why he was so sensitive to the tone of his teacher’s voice. He looks up to her. Was it just him or did she look a bit disappointed.

“S’not a good topic?” Harry asks. YN glances at him.

“Well,” the teacher crosses an arm over her abdomen and waves the other hand. She was choosing her words. “I was hoping putting the two of you together would produce an interesting project. Something out of the ordinary.”

“Oh.” Harry feels his grade flash in front of his eyes. Well, not flash but plummet.

“Hmph,” YN says in satisfaction. “Well Harry here felt very strongly about the topic.”

“Okay,” Ms. Easton pursues her lips. “It is a good topic. I’m looking forward to hearing all about it at the end of the month!”

As soon as their teacher is out of hearing range YN turns to Harry.

“I told you so.”

With that, she gets out of her seat and walks away. Out of the library, swiping the hall pass on her way out.

Suddenly he was hot. Very hot. Harry could feel the sweat dampen his shirt and he pulls the collar away from his neck. His project was disappointing? He was doing something wrong?

He stumbles up and finds Ms. Easton.

“Yes Harry?” She addresses him when she’s done with the pair she’d been talking to.

“Um what you said,” Harry clears his throat. “About the project. And pairing me with YN. I don’t understand…should we change it?”

“Up to you two to decide!” She says vaguely. “I can’t pick your topics for you. And you should only change it if you think you have enough time.”

“But our topic is disappointing?” Harry didn’t understand why Ms. Easton would make those comments and not just tell them upfront what she wants.

“No not at all!” she guides Harry to a bookshelf where it’s quieter. “War is a classic topic. But it’s also a very…straightforward topic do you understand?”

Classic was good. Classic was timeless, is that not what she wanted!?

“Harry,” she chides when he continues staring at her. “Listen. You’re a bright kid. Really, proper smart. I know you’ll do amazing in your future regardless of what I say in this class.”

It was YN. There was a but coming and she was going to say something about YN.

“But I’ve had a few bright kids in my class before. The thing about history is it repeats and the pattern I see is that there’s a creative energy even in something like history that’s lost on big brains like yours. That’s why I paired you with YN. I thought you two would complement the way you think really well. I was hoping to see a new topic come out of it. That’s not to say your current topic isn’t fabulous. I think if you want to continue with it, I’m excited to learn more.”

Harry doesn’t have anything to say. Actually, he’s embarrassed. This whole time he thought being partnered with YN was because she was failing or doing horribly. When really it was because the teacher thought he could use some help. Intellectual superiority 100, Harry 0.

“You two are getting along right?” Ms. Easton probes.

“Yeah,” Harry lies.

“She’s letting you call the shots?” She asks casually.

“Ehm,” Harry wavers. He had taken the reigns immediately because he didn’t think she could handle them. He feels his face turn more pink.

“The great thing about this project is to collaborate. Throughout history some of the best things were brought from collaborating…”

Harry zones her out and looks back at their desk. YN is still not there. Maybe she was skipping. But he spots her bag, that wasn’t true.

“Oh I better go help out your classmate,” Ms. Easton points to where someone has their hand up. “You’re alright?”

“Yeah,” Harry shakes the funk off. Maybe he’ll listen to YN more now but they only had a week and a half and it would be crazy to change their topic now.

But as he sits in his seat and waits for YN to return, to collaborate with, he feels it again. The sinking feeling. Like something was his fault.

YN was the mean girl but he hasn’t been the most friendly either.

After another 10 minutes go by he gets out of his seat and grabs the second hall pass.

He spots around the toilets, moves through the halls, and makes his way back to a stairwell. There YN leans against a wall on her phone. She doesn’t look up as he walks down until he stands in front of her.

“Oh,” the glow of her phone moves off her face, muffled by her sweater. “I thought you were random.”

“Are you coming back?” Harry asks. Still, his eyes flit from her face to her neck, settling on the wall behind her.

“Why does it matter? You’re doing the project with or without me.”

His throat feels like it’s stuffed with cotton as he swallows. He should apologize. He should-

“Why are you so awkward for?” She demands. “Like. You’re smart and all but you’re kind of weird.”

Nevermind. He was so not apologizing.

“Hello? And then you go so quiet when I say anything direct. You can be smart as shite but you’re not making it anywhere if you can’t even talk to a girl without staring a hole into the space beside her.”

Harry’s mum always said to be himself. This was him, smart (nerdy—fine), quiet, awkward, and bookish. But it wasn’t easy to be this way when girls like YN existed. They were confident and loud, and she called him out like his sister did. But she was nothing like her. She was beautiful and she knew it. And she was rude, but maybe her mum told her to be herself too and this was it.

“What are you thinking?” She demands.

“What?” Harry asks in surprise.

“I want to know what the fuck you’re thinking in that big brain! You’re so awkward! Jeez!”

“I’m-I-why?”

“I don’t get you.” She gives him a once over. “So? What were you thinking?“

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“Seriously I-“

“Tell me.”

“I…” Harry trails away. He turns away from her and walks to the other end of the stairwell, pivots, and stands a few feet in front of her. “I was just wondering if this is who you really are.”

“Me? How am I?” Eyes narrowed, she sounds both curious and defensive.

“Really?” Harry meets her eye. “You’ve got such an attitude, you’re rude and loud and pushy, and I don’t know why you don’t like me but you’re always so condescending so I was just wondering if that’s who you are. Like when your mum says to be yourself, is that who you chose?”

Her mouth drops, then it snaps shut and her arms cross over in defence.

“You know why I don’t like you?” She asks. “Because you’ve got an attitude. You’re rude and pushy and condescending to fuck. So let me ask you—is that who you are? Is that who mummy tucks into bed each night?”

Harry’s impressed how she’s turned it around on him. He doesn’t take it seriously until she breaks eye contact and looks away.

“If I listened to my mom’s advice, I would be a bloody doormat in this place. I’d be used and discarded like a wet wipe. I have to be rude and pushy. And don’t even get me started on boys like you, who call girls pushy just because they know what they want. I can’t afford to be who I am, like you can, because I don’t have the privilege of being a bloke.”

They have a stare-off, mostly Harry is just surprised at everything coming out of her mouth. She goes on.

“I know who you are Harry. I know you’ve got a mum and sister you’re close with. I’ve seen you around town. For someone with two women like that in your life you can look up to, you sure are a misogynistic prick.”

Harry’s left stunned. He didn’t think she ever noticed him let alone know him. He replays her words, her glimpse of vulnerability. If her words were an essay, there would be no red ink. It was hard for him to accept but she was right. From the start, when Ms. Easton paired them he made a million assumptions about her. That were all proven wrong. And Ms. Easton was right too: he was smart and good at being smart but maybe there was more than that.

“Now you’re quiet again!?” YN sounds defeated.

“No wait,” Harry speaks up before she leaves. “I’m sorry. Seriously.”

“Yeah whatever,” she rolls her eyes. “I’m over this.”

“Actually,” he steps in the same direction she does as she heads for the door. She stops in surprise. “Actually I am sorry. I was being intellectually superior. You’re smart too. I’m sorry.”

She looks at him warily, like he was going to laugh at her and tell her he was joking. When he doesn’t, when he maintains eye contact even though it kills him inside she backs away. Her face relaxes, like she’s accepted backing down. It was quite a sight for Harry, to see YN the Mean Girl who’s been making the last couple weeks hell for him, transform into something softer. Something that—he was still nervous to look at for too long, but one he could look at a little easier.

“I don’t want to write about the royal family and their fucking war legacy.”

Harry wasn’t expecting that.

“That’s basic as hell, I’m falling asleep just imagining us presenting it. It’s like buying drugstore when we can be buying Sephora.”

She squints at him, waiting for a rebuttle but he lets her have this one. After what Ms. Easton said, Harry was realizing that being smart didn’t mean you were right all the time. And he also had no idea what her example meant.

“Wow. Nothing?”

“No, I agree.” Harry smiles, a little embarrassed but wow. Her mouth splits into a grin and it changes her whole face. She’s suddenly younger, carefree, in that moment as Harry remembers how to breathe, he sees the person her mother tells her to be.

“What?” The staircase dims as she takes the smile back. “Are you going to go back to being mute.”

“No,” I was just admiring how beautiful you looked right now. Maybe you’re not who I thought you were. But you’re also way out of my league so now I have to act cool about it. “I just don’t know if we have time-“

“Stop.” She puts her hand up and walks towards him, back to the doors. “I’m going to come up with a pitch so good I’ll be picking your jaw off the floor and wiring it shut again. And…you can pitch your sad topic to me. The best one wins.”

“But we can just vote our own,” Harry points out the flaw in her plan, ignoring her threat.

“I think we’re both mature enough to hear each other out?” She opens the door back to the hall and Harry scrambles through it to keep up.

“I know I am,” Harry says it before he can think. Uh oh.

“You’re cheeky,” YN eyes him but she doesn’t look upset. Actually, she looks delighted. “Not just a quiet nerd hm?”

Harry shrugs, they had really been their stereotypes the last few weeks.

“So what you said before, you think I’m smart?”

“Well, yeah. I guess.” Harry felt uncomfortable now on the spot.

“So like you think I can be the future prime minister?”

“I…don’t know about that.” Harry side eyes her to notice she’s smiling. She was teasing him.

The bell rings out as they near the library.

“Talk to you tomorrow,” she says to him. She shoots him another smile and Harry tries to memorize it, second guessing he ever thought she was unattractive.

***

That Friday it’s like Harry and YN never had that conversation. She ignores him in the halls as usual, her friends sneer at him when they catch him looking their way. As much as Harry didn’t want to be disappointed, he was. Why did he think anything was going to be different?

But he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Her smile was a loop in his head any time his mind wanders. No wonder their whole grade was in love with her.

“You’re staring. Again.” Harry’s mate says at lunch. This time Harry looks away quickly, embarrassed. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” he says quickly. “She’s just been making my life hell since we partnered up.”

“Yeah I heard those guys roughened you up at lunch the other day.”

They didn’t. But they did aim a basketball around the net as Harry was walking by yesterday and it had hit him. His glasses had fallen off but luckily nothing broke.

“Just one more week,” Harry mutters. Earlier this week he was counting down the days. Now he wasn’t so sure.

When the bell rings signalling the end of lunch, Harry is surprised when YN falls in line with him to their class.

“Pitch ready?” She asks. She smelled amazing like flowers and tea. Focus.

“Yep,” Harry didn’t put much effort into it. He didn’t have the same passion he did before and he was curious what YN had.

They get the last 20 minutes of class to work on their project. YN sits behind Harry so he turns when their time starts.

“Me first,” YN brings out a binder. She pulls out a folded piece of paper that she hands. He opens it and glitter falls into his lap.

“Ugh!” Harry jumps up but despite that his crotch sparkles. “What is this?”

YN’s eyes are lit up and she hides her giggles behind her hand. Harry stares, turning pink. Why would she do that?

“I’m so-“ she covers her mouth again. “I’m sorry!” She’s shaking as she tries to stop laughing. It’s kind of contagious and Harry cracks a smile.

“My pants are covered in glitter,” he deadpans which send her head onto the table as she shakes with laughter.

“It was just supposed to lighten the mood ohmygod,” YN can barely finish her sentence.

That was it. Harry tries to pick up whatever glitter he can, using the paper (he realizes it was her pitch) as a dustpan. He taps her behind the shoulder and she jumps up to turn, in that moment he dumps the paper on her and sits back down in satisfaction.

“Now we’re even,” Harry tell her. Her mouth is open in shock.

“No!” She tries to dust it off but her crotch, that Harry glances at, is also shimmering. “We were even after I did that to you! This is! Oh my god.”

She stands over Harry, her eyes glancing at his pants. A snicker escapes. Then she’s back in her seat laughing.

“I have to say your pitch is not going well,” Harry reminds her.

“Oh my god,” she tried to get serious but she’s still grinning. Harry doesn’t mind.

“Should I go first?” He asks.

“No no I got this. Okay. The royal family and…their influence on food. Now before you think it’s stupid did you know the matriarch actually has a list of forbidden foods. And if we go back, and look at the countries they invaded we can see…” YN grows serious, but passionate, as she begins pitching the topic. And before anything just her passion alone convinces Harry they had to do this topic. “From land to table.”

“Okay.” Harry says.

“Okay? Like that was just okay?”

“No, I vote your topic.”

“Oh my god really?” She lights up and it’s blinding. Harry wanted to make her light up every chance he got. Focus.

“Yeah I think it’s interesting. And different. But we only have a week.”

“That’s okay!” YN opens her binder and pulls out another sheet. “I did a bunch of research. I couldn’t really sleep last night cuz of…anyway. So our library has all these books that can help. And we can spend the weekend catching up right? We can meet at the local library and work. So we’re caught up by Monday.”

Wow. She really thought this through.

“Isn’t that too nerdy for you?” Harry has to ask. Didn’t she have something cooler to do on the weekend.

“Oh my god,” she rolls her eyes. That was the YN he knew. “Just because I’m not a nerd doesn’t mean I don’t care about my grades. You should know my lowest grade has been 82 this year.”

Wow. Even though Harry never scored below 95 that was still impressive coming from her. Which it shouldn’t be, he reminds himself. She was smart—just in a different way.

“Okay let’s do it!” Harry was excited. He suddenly understood what Ms. Easton was trying to say, he was missing creativity.

“Yay!” She squeezes his arm and Harry’s never felt more aware of his arm in his life. YN notices him freezing and she pulls away. “Sorry. I didn’t give you my cooties did I?”

She was quick. But it was funny and Harry can’t help but let out a snort.

“Is that a laugh? Are you laughing at something I said about you?”

Harry shakes his head and turns in his seat but his face is stuck in the grin. YN continues to heckle him from behind but she’s interrupted by the bell.

“Give me your number,” she says as he packs up. “So we can coordinate tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah,” Harry pulls up his contacts and hands her his phone. “Just put yours in.”

“Okay, I’m texting myself too,” she types for a while and then hands it back. It’s only later when she texts him at the end of the day does he click her contact.

Future Prime Minister YN ❤️

The picture is one of her from below with a serious face on. When he squints he realizes she’s flipping him off. It’s funny, and Harry feels like he sees her now. Even though she couldn’t always be herself like he could, Harry now understood her enough to recognize the glimpses of herself she was giving him.

It’s destined that every nerd falls for the mean girl. Harry never believed that until now. As YN becomes more recognizable to him, his crush grows a little more. He had to nip this in the bud, he realizes. Because she would never feel the same way. In a million years. But maybe they could be friends. Maybe it was time for Harry to discover who he could be when he wasn’t spending all his time being nerdy. He had a lot to learn from her, he realizes. And the one thing he was good at was studying.

[theostrophywife]

focus on me.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader request: I NEED MATHEO OR THEODORE X FEM READER AND SHE JUST LOVES HIS HANDS AND ARM VIENS AND SHE WALKS INTO HIS DORM AND IS GOBSMAKED TO SEE HIS ABS AND SHE WANTS TO RIDE THEM AND SHES JUST SO OBSESSED AND THINKS HES THE HOTTEST MAN IN THE PLANET- AND SHE FOLDS LIKE A PRETZEL WHEN HE GIVES HER THOSE EYES- JESUS IM A CATHOLIC BUT THEO AND MATTHEO COULD BE MY NEW RELIGION- author's note: big thanks to @writingsbychlo for listening to me rant about this man in her inbox. posting this now so she can wake up to her mans. the way that i would fold for mattheo so fast (theo look away). anyways, enjoy this purely smutty fic 😮‍💨

You were supposed to be studying. 

When you came into his dorm, you specifically told Mattheo not to interrupt you under any circumstances. Usually, you preferred the library but some prat had accidentally set off a dung bomb, which meant closure until further notice. 

You tried studying in your dorm, but your fellow housemates decided that there was no better time to throw a back to school bash in the common room than the night before your Ancient Runes exam. Harry and Ron, who shared the same class, appeared completely unbothered as they chugged firewhisky straight from the bottle. 

Your roommate Hermione was long gone. Probably holed up somewhere in the dungeons with Draco. You followed your friend’s cue and snuck into your boyfriend’s dorm, narrowly avoiding Filch. It never seemed fair that the Slytherins got individual rooms, but tonight you had never been more thankful for it. 

Mattheo had set up a whole battle station for you on his desk. There were fresh ink pots, newly sharpened quills, and blank parchment waiting for you when you arrived. After kissing your sweet and considerate boyfriend, you went straight to work. 

By the time midnight struck, the parchment was filled with glowing runes, making your ink stained hands cramp from drawing out the symbols over and over again. To Mattheo’s credit, he kept to himself and read quietly on his bed while you studied. 

You were so engrossed in the material that you barely registered him kissing you on the cheek before leaving to take a shower. That little mistake cost you because as soon as he walked back into his dorm with nothing but a towel on, you nearly spilled fresh ink all over yourself. 

Water trickled down Mattheo’s chest, the little droplets snaking through his perfectly chiseled abs only to disappear beyond his v lines, which pointed like an arrow to what you knew was hiding underneath that towel. 

The fabric hung dangerously low on his hips as he walked over to his dresser to pick out something to wear. You watched with rapt attention as he braced himself against the wood, those delicious, juicy veins protruding from his forearms and nearly making you dizzy with desire. 

Finally, Mattheo turned. The silence had caught his attention and he smirked when he saw you ogling him. 

“See something you like, pretty girl?”

You flushed. “Just got a little distracted.”

Mattheo’s grin grew. He sauntered over to you, leaning over so that he had you caged against the desk. 

“Oh?” he asked, his voice low and husky and absolutely fucking sexy. “Maybe it’s time for a break then. You’ve been such a good girl studying so hard all night. I think you deserve a reward, my love.” 

Your breath hitched as Mattheo’s lips grazed yours. He tilted your chin up, giving you a perfect view of those brown eyes. Then he gave you the look and you knew you were done for. 

It was a look that said he wanted to devour every inch of you until you couldn’t even recall your own name. You gave in. Of course you gave in. How could you not?

“Maybe for a second…”

Mattheo took the opening. One arm snaked around your waist, bringing you up with him as he pressed you against the desk. His other arm crept up your back until he reached the nape of your neck, fisting your hair through his fingers as he kissed you roughly. 

“Do you even know how fucking sexy you are, princess? My smart schoolgirl in her tiny little skirt.” 

Mattheo carefully moved your studying materials aside before picking you up and setting you down on the table. He gripped the top of your thighs and brought you to the edge while sliding his tongue against yours. You whimpered as he grinded against you, showing you exactly how hard he was underneath the towel.

“Been thinking about bending you over this table all night,” Mattheo whispered in your ear. His hand climbed higher up your thigh and you felt your body instantly respond to his touch. “Bet you’re soaking wet for me already, aren’t you angel?”

You moaned as he toyed with the waistband of your panties. “Matty, please.” 

Your boyfriend smiled at your nickname for him, knowing that he had you right where he wanted you. “What is it that you want, darling?”

“Touch me. Please.” 

Mattheo smirked as he tugged your panties off. His lust filled gaze drank you in as he dragged two fingers through your slick folds. 

“Fuck. You’re so wet. Is this all for me, princess?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, nipping at his neck. “It’s not fair. You play dirty, Matty. You can’t just walk in here with nothing but a towel on.” 

“Why not, angel?”

You sighed, tracing the hard planes of his chest. His muscles flexed under your fingertips as you gently raked your nails against his six pack. “Because you’re sexy and I can’t help myself.” 

Mattheo chuckled darkly, plunging two fingers in your pussy. You bucked against his hand, watching in stunned silence as he withdrew it only to stick his middle and pointer finger into his mouth. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he tasted you on him. 

“This is exactly what I mean,” you whined. “For Godric’s fucking sake, how am I supposed to concentrate after that?”

“Maybe we can compromise, angel.” He shuffled through your parchments and stuck one to the wall. “I’m going to trace the runes inside of you and if you get them all right, then I’ll give you your reward.”

You swallowed thickly and nodded. Mattheo grinned before giving you a quick peck. “Pay attention, sweetheart.” 

His fingers dipped through your folds once more and you gripped his arm, fighting the moan from escaping your lips. Mattheo curled his fingers inside of you, drawing a familiar shape. 

“Urus,” you said in a breathy voice. “It means strength.”

“That’s right, angel.” He shifted as you ran your hands down his arms. You could feel his veins throbbing underneath your palm as he fingered you. “Don’t get distracted now. I know how much you love my hands. I promise they’ll be wrapped around your throat by the end of the night if you get all these right. Now focus.”

You nodded, eyes fluttering close as he traced another rune. “Algiz,” you answered. “For protection.” 

“Hot and smart,” Mattheo announced proudly. “How’d I get so lucky?”

His lips grazed yours and you willingly parted for him, fluttering around his fingers as his tongue slid into your mouth. He pumped his digits inside of you, teasing and taunting. 

“Let’s try something harder, princess.” 

Mattheo’s skillful fingers prodded against your walls, sketching a complicated shape. You closed your eyes and focused. It was a tricky one, but you remembered the cris cross pattern. 

“Inguz,” you said decidedly. “Fertility.” 

“That’s right,” Mattheo said with a smile. “You're doing so well, sweetheart. One more and you can have anything you want.” 

“Anything?” you asked with a small smile.

“Whatever that devious little mind of yours desires, my love.” 

“Okay,” you replied. “I’m ready, then.”

Your boyfriend nodded, staring right into your eyes as he marked the last and final rune. It was an effort not to get lost in those warm, brown eyes. But you steeled yourself, determined to claim your prize.

“Rerth. For luck.”

“Good girl,” Mattheo said with a smirk. “Fitting since you’re getting lucky tonight, angel. Where should we start?” 

You bit your lip, cocking your head at him. It was nearly an impossible choice. You wanted to kiss him. Bite him. Lick him. All of the above and more. 

But there was one thing that stood out from all the other deliciously sinful choices. You pressed your palm against his abs and grinned. 

“I want to ride your abs.”

Mattheo’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected it, but fuck he was so down. He would’ve given you anything with the way you were looking at him right now. 

“You never fail to surprise me,” he said fondly. “Well come on then, let’s make your filthy little fantasy a reality.” 

In one smooth move, he lifted you off the table and deposited you on top of his bed. Mattheo reclined against the headboard and watched with hungry eyes as you straddled his stomach. He smiled as you slipped the tie off your neck and looped it around him. 

It was a simple move, but so fucking sexy and possessive at the same time. You were claiming him. Mattheo was yours and you were his. You belonged to one another—mind, body, and soul. 

Mattheo trailed kisses down your neck and throat, leaving marks on your skin as his deft fingers made quick work of the first few buttons on your blouse. He leaned back and admired his work, his hands gripping your hips while you grinded your soaking wet sex against his muscles. 

He didn’t think it would feel this good. There was something about you using his body to get yourself off that fucking turned him on like no other. Mattheo lifted your skirt up, fisting the fabric in his hands and watching as you coated him with your arousal. 

The little whimpers you were making sounded like music to his ears. “My good little slut,” he said, squeezing your tits as you rode him with reckless abandon. “You’re so fucking filthy, baby. Using me to get yourself off. I’m just your fuck toy aren’t I princess?”

“So good,” you murmured. “You feel so good, Matty.”

The desperation in your voice set him off. He gripped your hips hard enough to bruise and bucked forward, smirking in satisfaction when you moaned. The ridges of his abs rubbed against your clit, providing the perfect amount of pressure to the sensitive area. 

“Keep riding me,” he said in a low, rough voice. “Just like that, angel. Such a good girl for me.”

You closed your eyes, lost to the waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Mattheo gripped your chin, his voice rough around the edges as he spoke. “Open your eyes, darling. I want to watch you cum.”

His rich brown eyes pinned you in place, drinking in every detail. That sexy smirk curved against his lips as he hooked his arms behind his head, admiring the view of his girl riding him. 

“Look at you, baby. You’re making such a fucking mess. Such an innocent face, but you turn into a filthy whore when you’re with me.” 

“Only for you, Mattheo.” 

“Damn fucking right,” he said, sliding his hands under your skirt to rub at your clit. 

You bucked against him, riding out the high. Heat exploded in your core and seeped into your veins. Mattheo kissed you roughly, staking his claim on you as he devoured your moans. 

“That’s it, princess. Cum for me, pretty girl.”

The orgasm felt like a lightning strike. It hit you all at once, making your walls spasm as you came all over Mattheo’s abs. He cursed when he felt you soaking him through, utterly turned on by the mess that you’ve made. Mattheo had never been harder in his life. 

Your boyfriend peppered kisses on your face, pulling you taut to him as you came down from the high. Mattheo brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, tilting your chin up so he could press his lips against yours. He groaned and held your hips down, grinding his boner against your ass. 

“I’m not done making you cum, princess. You’ve got one more in you, don’t you angel?” 

As sensitive as you were, your pussy throbbed at his words. When it came to Mattheo, you could never really get enough. 

“I thought I only got one reward. You’re spoiling me, Matty.” 

“There’s no question about it. You’re my spoiled rotten little princess. But this reward isn’t for you, it’s for me.” He smacked your ass, gesturing for you to get up. “Now come on, angel. I was serious about that desk.” 

He smirked as he walked you back to his desk, his hands disappearing underneath your skirt as he massaged your ass. Mattheo kissed you roughly before he flipped you over, bending you on the desk so you were face down and ass up. He flipped your skirt up, hissing when he found you soaking wet again.

“You just can’t help yourself can you, princess?” He pumped himself in his hand before sliding the tip of his cock along your folds. “Gods, you’re fucking wet. Are you ready, baby?” 

You whimpered, rocking your hips against him for more friction. Mattheo held you in place, fisting your hair in his hands. 

“Use your words, darling. I want to hear you beg like the good little slut that you are.” 

“Please, Matty,” you whined. “I need you so badly that it hurts.” 

He kissed the base of your spine, grinning as he eased his length inside of you. Still sensitive from your last orgasm, you gripped the edges of the table as Mattheo buried his cock within your walls. Your legs felt like they were going to give out any minute, but he kept you upright, cursing when he felt how wet and tight you were. 

“Fuck,” he grunted as he thrust into you slowly. Mattheo gripped you from behind, picking up the pace. Your pussy clenched around him like a vice. “Gods, pussy’s so good baby. You’re doing so well. Taking all of me like my perfect little whore.” 

Mattheo fucking adored the way you blushed at his filthy words. He leaned over, capturing your lips in a sloppy kiss as he fucked you into the table. He thought he was going to pass the fuck out when you grinded back into him, meeting his movements to take more and more of him. Mattheo leaned over and shielded your head from the wall, making sure you were protected as the table shook underneath you. 

The sound of skin slapping against skin mixed with your breathy little moans was enough to send him over the edge, but he wanted to make good on his promise. Mattheo always put his girl first. The boys were right. He might be just a little bit pussy whipped. 

Even without the sex, you could’ve asked Mattheo to kill for you and he would’ve done so without question. 

“I fucking love you, darling. I’d kill for you. I’d die for you,” he said, every word laced with conviction. “Forever and always.” 

“I love you too, Matty. Forever and always.” 

He kissed your cheek, the action surprisingly soft compared to how rough the sex was. You felt like you could’ve melted onto the floor. 

“Cum with me, my love.” 

Mattheo wrapped his arms around you as that familiar heat spread burned in your core. He held you as the orgasm rocked through your body, sharing in the euphoric high while the two of you finished together. His grip around you only tightened, hugging you from behind while he slowly pulled out. You were barely keeping upright as it was, your legs threatening to give out under you. 

Without a word, your boyfriend scooped you into his arms and brought you back to bed. He cradled you against him, whispering praises and encouragement while stroking your hair. 

“You did so well, baby. I’m so proud of you for remembering all those runes. You’re gonna ace your exam tomorrow.” 

“You really think so, Matty?” You snuggled against him, burying your head in the crook of his neck. Mattheo stroked your back and placed a kiss on your temple. 

“I know so, darling. You have no idea how proud I am for having such a smart girlfriend. I love bragging about you to our friends.” 

You flushed. “Well, I couldn’t have done it all on my own. I had some help from my smart, sweet, and sexy study partner.

Mattheo grinned and kissed you gently. “Glad to be of service, my love.” 

taglist: @annaisabookworm @marina468

please let me know if you'd like to be added.

[thestarsarebrightertonight]

fresh out the slammer // mattheo riddle x fem reader

playlist : fresh out the slammer - taylor swift

summary : after a 6 month relationship with the narcissistic cormac mclaggen youre finally free and ready to move on asap.

gryffindor reader , y/n used , swearing

masterlist

"fuck you mclaggen!" you screamed as you ran out of his dorm , having caught him snogging a random ravenclaw girl.

your anger was going wild as he chased you down the corridor , shouting pleas of forgivness. but you couldnt help feel relieved to finally have an excuse to break up with him , the happiness and fury seemed to merge into one in your mind.

"mclaggen speak one more word and i swear to merlin ill FUCK YOU UP!" you screamed in his face making him abruptly stop before you turned around and stormed out of the portrait hole.

"yeah well youre ugly anyways!" he deperatly shouted after you as you laughed , making sure he would hear ,"and youre a bitch!"

"and your dick is small!" you shouted back at him , flipping him off just in time before the portrait hole slammed shut.

you let out a sigh of relief when it finally shut , the fat lady staring down at you with suprise before giving you a soft hum of approval , getting back to her normal position.

your whole face brightened into a grin as the realisation sunk in , you were single....but you were free from mclaggen!!

practically skipping to the great hall with a bright grin you waved and greeted every person that passed happily , many were confused by your happiness.

but your friends were even more confused when you ran into the great hall , sprinting to the gryffindor table and stopping infront of them.

"IM FREE!" you cheered before jumping up and down on the spot.

they all stared at you like youd gone mad as you quickly realised hogwarts gossip was quick- but not so quick your breakup from 3 minutes ago wouldve reached them yet.

"free from what?" harry finally broke the silence as you grinned at him.

"MCLAGGEN!" you squealed in excitement before sitting down next to ron.

they all seemed confused until hermione face morphed into pure shock , "you broke up with him?!"

both harry and ron quickly let out "ohh"s of realisation as you nodded with happiness , "i caught him snogging a ravenclaw , great right?! i was so angry at the time but when i realised i was free of him , i practically danced here!"

hermione held back a laugh , "y/n im so sorry thats awful!".

"the only awful thing about it is mclaggens breath," ron muttered as you laughed and shoved him arm causing him to gasp , "thats the first time youve ever laughed at a mclaggen joke , you usually smack the back of my head!".

"yeah well now that im not tied to that physco , i can laugh again!" you beamed like the sun as they all couldnt help but smile.

"im happy for you , happy break up," harry supported with a smile.

"thanks harry!" you then turned serious , "maybe i should be single for a while , i need to recover from the trauma that is being that goblins girlfriend."

ron snorted besides you as hermione let out a small giggle before spotting something behind you and smirking , "yeah i dont think being single will last too long."

"youre right , i just want to kiss someone right now ,because i can!" you laughed.

"yeah well i think i know someone very willing to volunteer for that," hermione said as you smirked and looked at her 'who?' she flicked her eyes back behind you , "riddle. the boy has been obsessed since third year everyone knows it."

"seriously?!" you asked in complete shock as heat rushed to your cheeks , the truth is youve liked him for a very long time , but his cold nature made you dismiss it as a unrealistic crush.

"y/n he hexed mclaggen twice when he found out you were dating." harry said blankly as if this infomation was well known.

"that was him?! mclaggen told me his nose was abnomrally large because the twins pulled a prank on him."

"oh yeah that was the twins but the boils all over his face and the uncontrollable itching? riddle." ron nodded.

"i just thought it was a rough week for him wow" you whispered , all the peices falling into place as you finally decided to turn around to look at mattheo.

and there he was , staring right back at you with his head in his hands , seemingly in a daze. until he quickly snapped out of it when you winked at him.

in mattheos opinion you were the prettiest and funniest girl he knew , and you didnt know him. so when you winked at him and giggled at the scarlett blush that formed on his cheeks , he nearly passed out.

"look at little mattys cheeks!" theodore teased having seen the whole thing ,"did the pretty gryffindor finally give you a glance matty?"

mattheo threw him a cold glare before looking at your back that was now turned to him , he had learned to tune out his friends teasing , especially since it had plagued him every day since third year.

but what he didnt expect was for you to get up out of your seat and run over to him with a bright smile , stopping infront of him and sitting down in the empty spot beside him. even his teasing friends had gone dead silent seeing the gryffindor girl infront of them.

"hi! mattheo right?" you grinned at him as he stared back with wide eyes.

"y-yeah yeah thats me," he struttered.

"sorry , i do know your name its just my friends call you riddle so much i had to make sure. i mean how could i forget such a handsome face?" you winked as everyones jaws dropped, mattheos especially.

"i- thank you..you....youre gorgeous!" the last part came out in a flustered shout as the whole hall turned around in surpise and his friends hid the giggled behind their hands.

you blushed. YOU BLUSHED?! mattheos brain was going into overdrive as the pink hue lit up your cheeks , he never knew it was possible for you to get even prettier.

"t-..thank you mattheo. look i know weve never really talked before , but ive always thought youre funny and nice eventhough you keep to yourself, and obviously hot" his face turned fully red as you so casually gave him the most compliments hes ever recieved in his life, "i was wondering if you wanted to go to hogsmeade with me?"

you smiled hopefully as he stared back with pure suprise on his face. you sat like this for a few moments as he recollected his thoughts , unmoving.

"YES PLEASE!" he said loudly making you laugh as people turned yet again.

"youre cute! see you there!" you said adoringly before kissing his cheek and walking back to the gryffindor table.

the whole of his friend group sat in silence before mattheo banged his head on the table letting out a loud groan of frustration, embarrassment rushing through his veins. this cued the loud howls of laughted from his friends.

"yes please!! he said yes please!!" lorenzo wheezed.

"ive never seen something so awkward in my life!" pansy choked through hysterical laughter , clutching dracos arm for support.

"mattheo for someone so cold and untouchable , you acted like a ten year old!" blaise laughed at him.

mattheo lifted his head from the table , face still as crimson as the ribbon in your hair , "remind me to throw myself off the astronomy tower."

draco dramatically gasped , "not before your big date!" he said in a sarcastic teasing.

and from the gryffindor table you also radiated a crushing embarassment , "i asked if he was called mattheo , UGH!".

[curawrites]

Potter

Slytherin boys (separate) x fem! Potter!reader

Slytherin boys: Draco Malfoy, Mattheo Riddle, Theodore Nott, Lorenzo Berkshire, and Blaise Zabini.

Warnings: forbidden romance?, swearing, smoking, alcohol, partying, horny teens, probably incorrect body shots.

Note: got back into Harry Potter and fell into the Slytherin boy rabbithole hole💚

Backstory:

You used to be very close to your twin brother. But your relationship changed for the worst during your first year at Hogwarts.

While Harry had been sorted into Griffindor, you had been sorted into Slytherin.

The both of you had tried to keep your relationship intact, but the rivalry between your two houses made it practically impossible.

By fourth year, you and Harry were practically strangers, and uninvolved with each other’s lives…

Draco Malfoy

In fourth year, Draco decided to ask you out to the Yule Ball. Mainly to piss off Harry.

He swaggered up to you in the courtyard and asked you very loudly in front of a lot of people, including Harry, of course!

“Heard you didn’t have a date for the ball, Potter.” He said with a smirk, “You want to be my date?”

You eyed him suspiciously before answering, “Sure, why not Malfoy.”

Didn’t expect for you to actually accept.

Low key freaking out internally.

Thought you’d just tell him to piss off.

He’s very smug about it on the outside tho.

Especially when he sees Harry fuming on the side lines with Ron and Hermione.

He then escorts you to class like the gentleman he was taught to be.

“Don’t get an ideas Malfoy. I’m only going with you to piss off my brother.” You told him as you entered potions.

“Same here, Potter.” He rolls his eyes a bit.

Glad you have the same idea but also a bit disappointed that you’re only using him.

But he’s also using you so-

When it came time for the ball, Draco was waiting for you by the stairs. Mattheo and Blaise were waiting with him.

He couldn’t lie, he was a tad nervous. Fixing his hair every 2.5 seconds to the annoyance of his friends.

“Does my hair look good?” He asked for the billionth time.

“Your hair is fine mate! Why do you even care so much it’s just Potter.” Mattheo rolled his eyes at the blond.

“It’s not about her!” Draco hissed, “..I just want to look good!” He answered semi confidently.

A few moments later you appeared and began walking down the stairs.

Draco looked at you in awe. You looked stunning all dolled up, your hair was curled and pinned up in an intricate hairdo, and the dark green dress you were wearing fitted you perfectly.

You glanced at Draco every few steps as you descended the stairs, admiring him from afar. You couldn’t lie, he looked dashing in his suit.

Blaise and Mattheo snickered behind him, shoving him forward to make him help you down the stairs.

“You look nice.” Draco said awkwardly.

“Thank you, you don’t look half bad yourself.” You responded, taking his hand as you walked down the rest of the steps.

“You cleaned up nice, Potter.” Mattheo teased.

“Shut it, Riddle.” You rolled your eyes at him.

Draco escorted you to the punch table to have a drink before you had your first dance.

When you started dancing you were both very stiff and awkward, but as the night went on you became much more natural with each other.

You and Draco went on to have a nice evening. Making show of your “relationship” by calling each other by your first names and dancing together for the majority of the evening.

When the ball finally ended, you and Draco returned to the Slytherin common room together.

“I actually enjoyed myself tonight Draco.” You admitted with a smile.

“I did to, Y/n. We should do it more often.” He smirked.

You rolled your eyes, “In your dreams, Draco.” You chuckled before to go to your dorm.

Leaving him standing in the common room, with his heart beating a few beats faster…

Mattheo Riddle

FORBIDDEN ROMANCE OMG

You both kept your distance from each other for a long while.

You didn’t want to associate with the son of the man who killed your parents.

And Mattheo didn’t give a crap about you.

You only began to associate with each other in fifth year when you became friends with Lorenzo.

Which lead to you being included into the Slytherin gang.

You decided to put your differences aside for the sake of your friend.

You’re not super close with many of them, Mattheo included.

But you have a sort of playful relationship.

You guys banter SO MUCH!

Whether it’s insulting each other or sometimes being flirty.

Harry is SIDE EYEING y’all from across the great hall.

You find Mattheo insufferable in a weird endearing way.

Sixth year hit and you’ve decided to start living it up by attending parties with the gang.

Ravenclaw had beat Hufflepuff in quidditch which made the perfect excuse to throw a party.

You and Pansy had spent the evening getting ready together in your dorm.

“We look hot~” you commented while admiring her and yourself in your full body mirror.

“We do~ Now let’s go-“ Pansy grabbed your hand and dragged you out of the dorm.

Once at the party, you had a drink to ease your nerves before you decided to join the growing circle of people playing spin the bottle. Many of your friends were sat, including Lorenzo, Mattheo, and Theo.

You sat yourself beside Lorenzo, “What are we spinning the bottle for?” You asked, almost yelling over the music.

“Body shots!” Lorenzo smirked at you playfully.

“Fun!” You grinned.

Eventually Mattheo’s turn came and the bottle landed on you. Gasps and ooos filled the circle, making you scoff. Mattheo only grinned as he grabbed the bottle of fire whiskey and a shot glass.

Ron and Hermione had to hold back Harry from causing a scene.

“C’mere, Y/n~” Mattheo smirked, motioning you over.

You rolled your eyes and walked over to him, all while he unbuttoned his shirt.

You got on your knees in front of him, squeezing your thighs together as you cunt throbbed at the sight of his bare chest.

Mattheo smirked down, “Ready?” Once you nodded he poured the alcohol down his bare torso.

You didn’t hesitate to begin licking all of the liquor off his torso, savouring the way the fire whiskey burned down your throat.

Mattheo couldn’t stop himself from getting hard at the sight of you on your knees for him staring up at him with lusty half lidded eyes. It made him feel things he knew he shouldn’t feel towards.

The crowd wooed and whistled as you finished licking his chest having made sure to not miss a drop.

“Thanks for the shot, Matty~” you purred, winking at him, your cheeks equally as red as his.

You got up from your knees and returned to your spot beside Lorenzo. Once sat, you took a deep breath to calm yourself down.

You hadn’t expected to have gotten so turned on. It felt so wrong to be attracted to Mattheo.. but you couldn’t help yourself when all you could think about was his dark lustful gaze…

Theodore Nott

You and Theodore became friends in first year.

Theodore was a bit of a loner, like yourself so you got along right away.

Because of this, you always paired up together in your classes.

Especially in potions which you both excel at. Unlike your brother, you inherited your mother’s potions skills.

You guys have definitely have bonded over dead moms/parents.

In fifth year you both became more acquainted with Draco and his gang.

It brought you guys out of your shells.

And further ruined your relationship with your brother but you didn’t really care.

You had Theo by your side and that’s all that mattered.

Although you’re “just friends” there’s definitely feelings at play.

Seeing everyone around you get into relationships made you yearn for one yourself.

Since you’re so close with Theo already you couldn’t help but think about being with him.

He’s such a pretty boy, with his hazel eyes, dirty blond hair and Italian accent.

Theodore had a little thing for you phase in third year.

He considers it a phase but the feelings never truly left.

The both of you are way to afraid to confess to each other in fear of ruining your friendship and of the retaliation from your families.

It was a Friday night and the gang had decided to sneak out of the castle to go swimming in the Black Lake.

Somehow the whole gang managed to bypass Filch and Mrs. Norris, even though the lot of you were giggling loudly at each other.

Once out of the main doors, you all ran to the rocky shores of the lake and spread out all of your towels.

Theo sat down and lit up a cigarette with Mattheo, while you took off your (Theo’s) shirt and your pj pants. Revealing your tiny bikini.

Mattheo wolf whistled at you, “Looking good Potter~” he teased.

“Fuck off Riddle-“ you said playfully and rolled your eyes at him.

“Shut it.” Theo muttered to Mattheo as he took a drag of his cigarette.

Mattheo looked at him, a grin spreading on his face, “What was that, Theo? You jealous or something? Don’t like me talking to your girl?”

“I’m not.” Theo denied as he watched you get into the water with Lorenzo, Pansy, and Draco.

He avoided Mattheo’s gaze to look at you and the others in the water.

Theo clenched his jaw as he observed you and Draco play in the water. Jealousy bubbled in the pit of his stomach.

“Sure you are.” Mattheo scoffed unconvinced.

“Fuck off-“ Theo shoved Mattheo lightly.

He took another deep drag of his cigarette in an attempt to ease his nerves.

“Theo!” You called from the water, “Stop smoking and get in the water!” You grinned joyfully at him.

Theo could feel his heart skip a beat at your radiant smile.

“Theo come on!” You called out again.

“Alright alright, bella-“ He chuckled before putting out his cigarette and getting up.

He took off his shirt and jogged towards the water.

You giggled and grabbed his arm to pull him the rest of the way.

There was no way he could let Draco have you…

Lorenzo Berkshire

Lorenzo has prided himself in his academics.

He has good grades in all of his classes.

Except in history of magic. He’s actually failing the class.

Look it isn’t his fault! Professor Binns is just such a bore.

Seeing as Lorenzo was failing, Professor Binns assigned you, Y/n Potter as his tutor.

Lorenzo was pretty happy about having a cute girl tutoring him.

You’ve intrigued him since first year but he’s never had the chance to talk to you.

But now he sees you twice a week for tutoring.

And honestly you don’t get much tutoring done.

Lorenzo is just so engaging and interesting that you just forget about what you’re there to do.

“Merlin, Lorenzo! We need to focus!” You giggled as you realized how much time you spent conversing.

“Oops!” He giggled.

You found yourself easily charmed by the boy. He was very refreshing to hang out with.

He wasn’t like the other Slytherins who gave you the cold shoulder and looked at you sideways.

Exams were in a week and Lorenzo desperately needed your tutoring if he wanted to pass history of magic.

You both decided to increase the amount of tutoring you’d be doing per week in preparation.

It was the day before exams started and your last day of tutoring.

You made the plan to study in his dorm instead of the library as you found the latter to busy. Lorenzo made sure to kick out his roommates and clean up his area in preparation.

You met up in his dorm after class and wasted no time in taking out all of your notes and textbooks out.

“Ok, Lorenzo.” You said sternly. “No more funny business we need to focus.” You sat on his bed.

He sat in front of you, nodding in agreement, “I really need to pass this exam or my dad will kill me.” He said and got his own notes out.

“Alright. I’m going to quiz you on some stuff. Look over your notes and tell me when you’re ready.” You instructed as you organized a few papers.

Lorenzo nodded and began looking over his notes, desperately trying to not get distracted at the thought that you, a cute girl was in his dorm and sitting on his bed.

“Okay I think I’m ready.” He announces after a few minutes and put his notes to the side.

“Okay… question one..” you began.

You quizzed Lorenzo for the next half hour. He was truly trying his best. What motivated him the most was the praise you gave him after each right answer.

“Good job!” “Atta boy!” “You’re doing great!” “That’s right!”

Every single one gave him butterflies.

Eventually he managed to get all of them right.

“You got every single question right!” You exclaimed with a big grin, “ Well done! I’m sure you’re going to pass!”

“You really think?” He smiled shyly.

“Of course!” You said reassuringly.

You checked your watch, you had finished your quizzing just on time.

You began to pack up your stuff, ready to head back to your dorm to do some studying of your own.

“Thank you, for all of the tutoring.” Lorenzo thanked as he helped you.

“It’s no problem at all, you’re fun to tutor.” You admit shyly, “Good luck on your exam.” You bided him before leaving.

Lorenzo watched you leave, making a note to himself to ask you out on a date after exams..

Blaise Zabini

You and Blaise got paired up for a project in potions once.

You both weren’t thrilled because you didn’t really get along.

At least you weren’t paired up with Seamus.

And in a way it worked out well for Blaise because he didn’t have to partner up with any of his idiot friends and have to do all of the work.

You did so well on the project together that Professor Slughorn decided to continue paring you guys up.

Hanging out with Blaise was now unavoidable.

Your interactions went from uninterested, cold and limited to being much more frequent and nicer.

Being much friendlier to each other also helped you work even better together.

“Hey, Zabini? How do you cut these roots again?” You asked quietly, glancing over at him.

“Oh you cut them in half and then..” he leaned over to help you.

You couldn’t help but be shy about the close proximity between you two.

He was close enough that you could smell his piney aftershave and his minty breath.

Not to mention his voice was so deep and smooth as he talked.

You snapped quickly out of it and focused back on what he was saying.

“Oh right. Thanks.” You thanked him and proceeded to cut the ingredient as he instructed.

“S’no prob.” He said, hesitating before leaving your side.

Since you were already doing so much work together, it was easier to just study together as well.

This resulted in you two spending more time together.

The library became you main hangout spot.

Away from his annoying friends who always burst into his dorm asking stupid questions just for the sake of bothering you two.

“Do you understand what question 8 means? I completely forgot what Professor Bins said about it.” Blaise asked, furrowing his brows with a sigh.

“Uh let me see..” you leaned over to read his parchment.

While you muttered the question to yourself, Blaise couldn’t help but stare at your focused face.

You looked cute, bitting your cheeks as you played with a strand of your curly hair. He could tell you had just washed it because you smelled strongly of lavender.

“Um I just wrote down this…” you sat up and grabbed your parchment.

You guys only considered yourselves acquaintances.

Yeah you found each other attractive.

You’re both attractive people after all and you were just acknowledging the obvious ok?

You two truly were oblivious idiots who couldn’t realize you had crushes on each other.

You were headed to what you thought would be another ordinary potions class.

You sat down beside Blaise and took out all your supplies, ready for whatever Professor Slughorn was going to make you guys brew.

After a bit of waiting, Slughorn began his lesson. “Today, we will be learning about Amortentia. Can anyone tell me what this potion does?”

Hermione shot up her hand eager to answer.

“Yes, Miss Granger?” Slughorn picked her.

“It’s a love potion sir.” She answered

“Corrected, ten points for Griffindor!” Professor Slughorn grinned.

He went on about the lesson, talking about the potion’s history and the risk involved with brewing it and its results.

“Now that we’re done with the lesson, I invite you all to come up and smell this batch of Amortentia I brewed just for this class.” Slughorn said enthusiastically.

You watched as your classmates went up and smelled the potion.

It was amusing seeing how many answered with a stutter and returned to their seats with reddened cheeks.

Finally it was your turn and you had no idea what you would smell.

You leaned down to take a deep inhale of the potion and the overhwhelming sent of Pine and mint flooded your senses.

“And what do you smell Miss Potter?” Your Professor asked.

You hesitated before speaking, “Pine and mint sir.” You answered.

Then the realization hit you and your eyes grew wide.

You smelled Blaise.

You blushed in embarrassment and kept your head down as you walked back to your desk.

“Who did you smell?” Blaise asked you curiously.

Before you could give him a half assed answer you were interrupted.

“Mr Zabini! Your turn!” Professor Slughorn announced.

Blaise got up from his seat and approached the potion.

It took a few smells for him to realize what he was smelling wasn’t your scent lingering on him. The potion itself smelled like lavender.

The gears in his head began to turn and it all began to fit. He smelled your shampoo.

He felt his cheeks heat up a bit from embarrassment and he quickly glanced at you.

Class was going to be very interesting…

[finelinefae]

semi-finals [tennisplayer!harry x tennisplayer!y/n]

synopsis: y/n gets distracted and harry just wants the girl he likes to like him back

word count: 10.7k

contains: fluff, angst, enemies to lovers, set at a boarding school, slow burn, angst, tennis rivals, strict parents, first kiss(es), jealous!h, jealous!yn, inaccurate height of certain characters who may actually be taller in real life but this is an au so it's fine, a crazy confession but not really bc we all saw it coming

this is part 3 of the game! read part 2 here

. . .

Y/N watched him from across the room, studying the way people walked up to him as though he was some kind of celebrity. He smiled and laughed but it didn’t reach his eyes, not in the way it did when they were together. 

But it wasn’t his charismatic smile and booming laugh that constantly grabbed her attention when she was trying to listen to Sarah’s story about the cat her parents had fostered back home. It was the blonde girl beside him, the one who hadn’t left his side for the entire night, who laughed along with him and stole glances whenever he wasn’t looking. 

Her opponent for the next tournament that was now a month away. 

Astrid Anderson had once been a student at Crestwood. They’d all been in the same infant class together and every boy in their year group was obsessed with her. Harry and Astrid hadn’t started dating until the year before Harry left for Australia. They were the ‘It’ couple of Crestwood, everyone treated them as though they were some kind of celebrity couple. 

All that lasted until Harry had to leave for Australia. He broke things off and then Astrid moved to Trinity Academy which was Crestwood’s biggest rival in most competitive areas. Y/N didn’t know or care what Astrid had gotten up to since she left school. There was no bitterness between them but they both knew they weren’t the type of people to share the same social circle. Whilst Astrid cared more about her social life, Y/N was completely focused on academics and there was nothing wrong with either of those things but it didn’t give them much to talk about. 

“Right Y/N?” Sarah asked, her head whipping around in her direction only to realise she had no idea what she was talking about. 

“Right,” Y/N nodded, having no clue as to what she was agreeing with. 

Adam held back a smile as he sat on the couch across from her, “Mitch, come get a drink with me,” Sarah stood up, tugging the hem of her skirt down, “I need you to push past all the tall people.”

Mitch, all five foot eight inches of him, rose from his place beside Jake on the couch with a self-satisfied stretch, as if flaunting his height as proof that his girlfriend needed him. "Coming, babe," he declared, a hint of smugness in his voice.  Everyone laughed as Mitch winked, following behind Sarah through the crowds of dancing bodies. 

Y/N glanced over at Harry who was now standing with his back to her, talking to Astrid with his hand propped up against the refrigerator. “If you’re not careful, you’ll burn holes into his back,” Adam spoke from beside her. 

“That’s the idea,” Y/N murmured. 

“Hm, I thought you didn’t like him?” Adam asked the question causing her to turn and face him. 

“I don’t,” She answers immediately but the words are like metal on her tongue, “I-I mean I-” 

Adam’s lips curve into a knowing smirk, “I see,”

Y/N wanted to protest but found herself unable to muster the words. Her mouth seemed to glue itself shut as she attempted to argue against Adam’s assumption that she liked Harry even a little bit. Her emotions had been all over the place ever since she asked Harry to coach her. He seemed to bring out a part of her she didn’t even know she had. One moment she was angry, the next she was laughing, and sometimes her heart would beat so hard against her chest that she felt like it was trying to leap out and walk right into the palm of his hand.

She couldn’t comprehend how the wires in her brain had seemingly rewired themselves, transitioning from loathing someone to now seeing visions of them before she drifted off to sleep. It both frightened and excited her, this inexplicable shift in her feelings consuming her thoughts and diverting her attention from the actual game - a game that had never required feelings before. 

“We both agreed on not seeing anyone if this was to work out,” She confessed.

“Did he make that rule or you?” Adam quirked a brow.

“It was a mutual agreement I guess,” Y/N shrugged. 

Adam nodded slowly, his eyes darting to and from Harry. “C’mere,” He motioned with his finger. Y/N leaned in at the same time as he did, until they were only inches a part from each other, “Laugh,” He says.

“What?” Y/N questioned. 

“Trust me, just laugh.” Adam glanced over her shoulder again before smiling. 

Y/N hesitated for a moment before complying, a hesitant laugh escaping her lips to which Adam joined in. The more he laughed, the more she laughed with him until he stopped, “Uh oh,” He smirked, leaning forward and grabbing his drink from the coffee table, “Looks like you started something now.” He motions his head behind her and Y/N turns to find Harry no longer with Astrid but striding towards them, anger radiating from him. 

“Adam, what did you do?” Y/N exclaimed, sitting on the edge of the couch as Harry approached them. 

His eyes were darkened, his jaw tense, “Y/N,” He said her name over the music, “Can I talk to you?” Each word was tense as he spoke them like he was trying to control himself. 

Maybe it was the bit of alcohol she’d had that was taking over her senses but she felt a sudden boost of confidence. Y/N folded her arms, “Ask me again,” She smirked. 

Harry scoffed, “Can I talk to you?”

Y/N’s expression was smug as she spoke the next word carefully, “Again,”

Harry’s jaw tightened, gritting his teeth he spoke again just as she asked, “Can I talk to you, please?”

Adam snorted beside her and Y/N’s lips curved, “Okay,” She stood up, ignoring the way her head spun, and stumbled as she followed him down the hallways of his apartment to a room near the back right by the bathroom that people were queuing up to use. He stood in front of an unopened door and pulled out a key from his back pocket to unlock it. 

Stepping inside, Y/N glanced around the room and noticed how different it was from the rest of the apartment. It had calming blue walls and a simple bed with white sheets. A big window let in soft light, making it cosy. There were personal things like photos and an old music player. There were posters on the wall and pictures of his friends on the corkboard by the desk. On one of the shelves in the corner, she saw the trophies she had previously seen in boxes now displayed on his shelf. 

She smiled but it quickly disappeared as she faced an angry-looking Harry. “What are you playing at?” 

“What do you mean?” Y/N crossed her arms.

Harry's eyes narrowed, his frustration evident as he took a step closer to Y/N. "Don't play dumb with me, Y/N," his voice tinged with a raw edge. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You and Adam? I thought we agreed not to date anybody?”

Y/N scoffed, “So did I until I saw you hanging around your ex-girlfriend who - might I add - is my opponent for the next game!”

Harry took a step forward and Y/N took one step back until she was backed up against his door. He placed one hand on the wall right by her head and hung his head to look down at her. Y/N’s breath hitched at how close he was, “Are you jealous?” He murmurs. 

“Jealous of who? You and your ex?” She emphasised the ‘ex’ like she was reminding him that Astrid was his ex-girlfriend. 

Harry's eyes flickered with a mixture of emotions, his lips curling into a knowing smirk. "You are, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice low and filled with a hint of amusement.

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she felt the heat of Harry's body so close to hers. She swallowed hard, refusing to let herself be intimidated by his proximity. "I'm not jealous," she insisted, her voice tinged with defiance.

Harry's smirk widened, his hand still resting against the wall beside her head. "Really?" he challenged, his breath warm against her cheek as he leaned in closer. “You don’t think I didn’t see you and those pretty eyes staring holes into the back of my head?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, her frustration evident. "You're more arrogant than I thought," she muttered under her breath.

"Do you like him?" Harry's question caught her off guard.

"I've already told you I don't," she replied, a hint of annoyance colouring her tone.

"You know it kills me?" Harry's voice softened, his expression pained. Y/N's confusion was clear as she waited for him to continue. "It kills me to see you with him, to see you with anybody but me. Especially when you laugh like that, I only want you to laugh like that with me."

"Well, unfortunately for you, you don't tell me what to do," Y/N shot back, her heart pounding against her chest.

"I thought I was your coach?" Harry smirked, attempting to lighten the mood.

"You're my coach, not my keeper. If I want to talk to Adam or laugh around him, I will. In fact, I'm going to," she declared, spinning around and pulling the door open, the noise from the party flooding her ears.

As she walked back into the living room, Y/N spotted Adam with Mitch, Sarah, Jake, and some others playing beer pong at the dining table. Adam's smile faltered when he noticed Harry behind her. "Hey, everything okay?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

Y/N nodded determination in her eyes. "Can I play?"

"Sure, it's my round so you can be on my team if you want," Adam offered with a smile.

Y/N grinned. "Who are we playing?"

Suddenly, the boy she had been locked in the room with stood at the opposite end of the table. "Mind if I join?" Harry's question hung in the air, his eyes fixed on Y/N.

Y/N tried not to react as Astrid approached him, placing a manicured hand on his shoulder. "I'll be on your team, H," she said with a smile, and Y/N's jaw tensed at the sight.

Harry smirked, glancing at Y/N, “Alright then,” 

“You sure about this?” Adam asked.

“Mhm,” Y/N nodded, “It’s just…How do we play?”

Adam laughed which caught Harry’s attention as he spoke to Astrid, “Just follow my lead, you’ll get the idea.”

As the game started, Y/N sensed Harry was intentionally trying to make her jealous when he laughed and spoke to Astrid far too enthusiastically. But she refused to let it bother her the way he wanted it to. She focused on the game with Adam, watching as he tossed the ping pong ball into one of the cups.

She noticed Harry scowl whenever they got remotely close to each other, high-fiving or giving each other a hug whenever one of them managed to get the ball into a cup. It gave her a sense of satisfaction whenever she’d see his eyes narrow as Adam placed a hand on her elbow to help her aim the ball in the right direction. 

Towards the end of the game, Y/N could feel herself slowly starting to fall under the effects of the alcohol. She had only ever drunk alcohol at functions or dinner parties with her parents and now she was countless drinks in. Her brain was turning fuzzy, there was no thought behind her words whenever she spoke and every time she aimed the ball, it would fly off the table somewhere across the room. 

As Y/N took her last turn, she was already very drunk and she knew she'd feel bad about it in the morning. Even with her friends cheering her on, she struggled to focus. She aimed carefully at the last cup, but the ball bounced off the table and landed in a plant pot nearby.

"Oops," Y/N slurred, her lips curving into a drunken giggle. "Looks like it's my turn to drink."

Before Adam could reach her, she took a step forward, catching her foot on the table edge and tumbling to the floor. Y/N laughed as she lay flat on her back looking up at the ceiling, “Are you okay, Y/N?” Sarah’s voice called. 

"Are you alright?" Adam asked, helping her stand back up again.

"Whoa," Y/N said, putting a hand to her head as it started to pound.

"Okay, I think that's enough for you," Adam chuckled.

"Are you okay?" Harry appeared in her view. "Hey, look at me." He gently lifted her chin with his finger.

"I'm fine," Y/N swayed. "I'm really, really great."

"Yeah?" Harry smiled. "Your knee's bleeding."

Y/N's brows furrowed. "It is?" She looked down.

"Mhm, c'mon, let's go clean it up." He took her hand.

"Oh, but the game!" Y/N looked over her shoulder to see everyone returning to their own groups.

"The game's over, love," he sighed when he realized she wasn't going to take another step on her own. He threw her over his shoulder and carried her down the hallway to his room.

"Hey, quit calling me that!" she slurred, banging her fists against his back.

The noise from the party softened as Harry closed the door behind him. Y/N found herself on Harry's bed, her body bouncing lightly as he carefully laid her down. She gazed up at the ceiling, her legs dangling over the edge of the mattress.

Harry stumbled into his bathroom and dampened a cloth under the cold water before walking back to her. Y/N propped herself up as he approached, observing him closely as he knelt between her legs.

He gently took her calf in his hand, “Are you drunk?” Y/N asked. 

Harry chuckled, his cheeks flushed. "Just a bit," he admitted, a lazy grin spreading across his face. "Maybe more than a bit."

Y/N giggled, “Me too,” She confessed.

“I know that,” He chuckled, his hair falling in front of his face, “You play a mean game of beer pong.”

“If it weren’t for you I probably wouldn’t be so competitive,” Y/N admitted.

"But it was fun, right?" Harry's smile softened. “You like spending time with me?”

Y/N relaxed, her shoulders dropping, “I think…” She starts, her mind whirring, “Okay shhhhh,” She puts her finger to his lips and his lips pout automatically against them, “Don’t tell anyone this but everyday I wake up and I look forward to spending time with you.”

Harry smirks, “You do?” 

“But don’t tell anybody,” She insists.

“Okay,” He nods, “I won’t tell anybody.”

“How do I know you won’t tell anybody?” Y/N frowns. 

“Hmm,” Harry thinks, “How about I tell you something?”

Y/N nods, “Okay.”

Harry’s eyes look into hers, “No amount of time in the day is ever enough for me. I want to spend every moment of my days with you, every second of time and even more than that.” 

“Woah,” Y/N’s eyes widen, her hand resting on his shoulder, “That’s a lot of time.”

“And it’s still not enough,” Harry whispers, his head leaning closer to hers. The cloth slipped from her thigh, Harry’s cold fingers wrapping themselves around her ankle that was right by his knee as he knelt on the floor. 

“Harry,” Y/N murmurs, “Do you still love her?”

Harry shakes his head immediately, “No,” He says, “For someone so brilliantly smart how do you still not know?” 

“I’m not smart when it comes to people,” She whispers, “Or you. I think that’s why you frustrate me so much.”

“You frustrate me for an entirely different reason,” His hand lifts to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She could feel his breath fanning her face, smelling the scent of alcohol. 

Her hands go to his shirt, scrunching the fabric into tight fists, “Tell me,” Her eyes flutter shut as his lips ghost over her cheek.

“Not today baby,” He says. 

“Y’ said it again,” Her lips curve, “You called me that in the car too.”

“You remember that?” 

“I remember everything,” 

As Harry parted his lips to reply, Y/N seized the moment, her hand darting to the back of his neck as she planted a quick peck on his lips. His eyes widened in surprise as she giggled, "Whoops."

Before she could fully retract her hand, Harry leaned in, closing the gap between them and pressing his lips to hers once more.

Y/N melted against him, feeling his lips merge with hers as he caught her bottom lip between his. Her eyes were closed and her senses were overwhelmed with the taste of alcohol and the scent of his aftershave. His lips were soft and everything about him was so warm. Every time she would try to catch her breath he would just steal the air right out of her as if she were his source of oxygen. 

They both pulled away. Y/N needed a moment before she could open her eyes again as she tried to regain her breath. When she did, green, hazy eyes looked into hers. Her lips curved before she spoke, “I haven’t kissed anyone like that before,” She admits.

"Really?" Harry asked, his voice tinged with surprise.

Y/N shook her head, her laughter bubbling up. "I mean, I kissed Jamie Keller once in the fourth year, but it wasn't a proper kiss."

Harry rolled his eyes, a hint of amusement in his expression. "Fucking Jamie Keller," he muttered.

Y/N laughed, unable to tear her eyes away from him. "Yeah," she murmured, "Fucking Jamie Keller."

Harry's fingers brushed against Y/N's cheek, “Do you think we’ll remember this in the morning?” He asked. 

Y/N couldn’t find an answer, instead, she brushed the curls in front of his eyes to the side and wondered just how much she had had to drink to end up in the one place she’d been trying to avoid. 

. . .

“Shit,” Y/N hissed, “This isn’t real.”

Her head was pounding like someone was hammering against her skull and her spine felt like she had been sleeping folded in half as she sat up straight in bed. She was in a room, a room she didn’t recognise and hoped it wasn’t just some random stranger’s. 

The last thing she remembered vividly was sitting on the couch with Adam and Harry standing somewhere across the room with Astrid, everything afterwards just seemed to blur all into nothing. 

It was her first time getting drunk and probably her last too from the awful state her body was in. She wanted nothing more than to shower and sleep in her own bed, eat foods high in sodium and drink gallons of water. 

Her heart leapt inside of her chest when she heard soft snores coming from somewhere in the room. She looked down and saw Harry curled up asleep on the floor, his arms wrapped around her ankle and holding it to his chest like a teddy bear.  

Y/N's heart swelled with a mixture of confusion and tenderness as she gazed down at Harry's sleeping form. She couldn't deny the warmth that spread through her at the sight of him, even if she couldn't quite understand how they had ended up in this situation.

Carefully extracting her ankle from his grasp, Y/N shifted to the edge of the bed, wincing as her head throbbed with each movement. She needed to get home. She had so much to do and prepare for now that her first game was over. She cursed herself as she tiptoed past Harry, not before grabbing a blanket to place over him as she walked to the door. 

Harry sighed, “You don’t remember do you?” 

Y/N frowned, wondering if he was talking in his sleep or actually asking her a question. She shrugged and pulled the door open, closing it softly behind her. 

Harry’s apartment was a mess. 

There were beer cans littered across the room and silly string on bits of furniture. She wondered whether or not she should stay to clear up but then remembered it was technically Mitch’s party which also made it his responsibility. 

She tried to spot someone who might have been able to offer her a lift home so she didn’t have to get the bus back to her dorm. Fortunately for her, Adam was lying on the couch asleep so she walked right over and gently shook him awake.

“Hey,” She whispered, “Sorry to wake you up,”

“Y/N?” Adam groaned, “I thought you went home,”

Y/N didn’t know why she was suddenly blushing but she replied, “Any chance you can give me a ride home?” She knew he had a car because he lived with his parents.

“I’ve been drinking,” He groans.

“Please?” She was desperate, “I know you only drank water for most of the night,”

He yawns, “Fine,” 

In the car ride back to her dorm, Y/N tried to recall the memories that had been missing from the previous night. She vaguely remembered playing beer pong and Harry playing alongside Astrid but the more she drank, the more her memory seemed to fade.

“You okay?” Adam asked, glancing over at her from the driver’s seat. 

“No, I can’t remember anything from last night,” Y/N groaned, running her hands over her face. 

Adam chuckles, “So you don’t remember falling over?”

Y/N’s eyes widened as she turned her head to look at him, “I fell?”

He nodded, “You tripped over the dining table when we were playing beer pong. Harry took you somewhere to fix up your knee,” 

Y/N looked down at her knee and frowned, “My knee?” She murmured, seeing the cut on her knee and the blood that had dried up around it. 

Seeing the cut on her knee must have triggered something in her brain because all of a sudden everything was beginning to piece together. 

Harry’s eyes look into hers, “No amount of time in the day is ever enough for me. I want to spend every moment of my days with you, every second of time and even more than that.” 

Harry's words echoed in her mind, sending a shiver down her spine. She could almost feel the warmth of his breath against her skin as he spoke those words and when he leaned and… 

“No fucking way,” Y/N blurted after everything came flooding back.

“Are you okay?” Adam looked at her concerned.

How could she possibly answer that? Was she okay? Clearly not, considering she had ended up in the bedroom of her longtime rival and kissed him.

She had kissed him.

And she had enjoyed it enough to want to kiss him again.

This wasn't good. It felt like she was breaking all the rules she had set for herself. Harry wasn't just any boy she went to school with; he was her coach, her rival, and someone she had known for years. He was the boy who used to tease her on the court, the one who always seemed to be one step ahead.

It must have been a drunken mistake. Y/N had no idea what she was like when she was drunk and clearly, she wasn’t the most sensible. It didn’t matter if things had suddenly changed between them, she couldn’t be with him, she wouldn’t allow herself to. Her focus was on winning that scholarship at the end of the school year where afterwards they’d be on two separate paths moving away from each other. 

Her feelings weren’t forever, tennis was. 

Thankfully, Adam had pulled into the front of her dorm building. She opened the door and leapt out of the car, “Thanks for the ride, Adam.” She tries to smile. 

“Hey Y/N,” Adam stops her, a look of concern on her face, “Are you okay?” He asks again and she realises she never answered him before.

She bit the inside of her cheek and gave him a tight-lipped smile, “I’m okay,” She lied and closed the door, spinning on her heel and walking to her dorm where she hoped she’d be alone so she could have time to work through her thoughts.

Even when she felt like she was winning, he always managed to one-up her, and this time was no different.

. . .

Y/N walked into school the Monday after the party at Harry’s house. 

When she returned back to her dorm, the first thing she did was shower and then spent the rest of the day wallowing in self pity and trying not to cry at the thought of kissing Harry. 

She had managed to go avoiding him the entire weekend and planned on doing the same today. He had sent her text messages asking her if she was okay but she’d ignored them, putting her notifications on silent like it was enough to trick her mind into believing nothing happened between them. 

Sarah had walked in on her hiding under her bed covers, watching episodes of Gilmore Girls and eating cold pizza. It was a sight she had never seen before which left her wondering if something had happened at the party but Y/N refused to tell. 

People congratulated Y/N in the hallways as she walked to her locker. She wasn’t used to getting attention from everybody. Most of the time, people didn’t really acknowledge her unless they needed help with their homework.

“Heyyy court queen,” Sarah beamed.

Y/N immediately shook her head, “Sarah, no,” she snorted, trying not to laugh.

“What?” Sarah frowned, “I’m trying to think up a catchy nickname so it catches on and people put it on merch and signs for your game.”

This time Y/N did laugh, “Are you trying to make money off of me?” She teased.

“No, of course not, I’m just being a supportive friend. You know my mother is designing a new clothing line? I can totally get her to design something for people to wear for your games.”

“Sarah,” Y/N put her hands on her friend’s shoulders, “I’ve won one game for a school competition. As much as I love you for it, I don’t need you to create merchandise or give me catchy nicknames.”

Sarah’s shoulders slumped, “I know, it’s just… You’re playing against Astrid Anderson. Not only is she popular at her new school, but she’s also still pretty popular here too. Jake told me he saw her volunteering at a homeless shelter, offering them invites to come to the semi-finals.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “We’re playing tennis. It’s not a beauty pageant. Whatever happens, won’t be up to how many people turn up or what everybody’s wearing.”

“But don’t you think she’s trying to do it to throw you off?” Sarah asked, “I’m pretty sure she still has feelings for Harry. Isn’t that weird?”

“Weird?” Y/N replied quickly, “Why would it be weird?”

Sarah looked at her suspiciously, “Because she’s Harry’s ex-girlfriend? And your opponent for the next game and did I forget to mention Harry ‘your coach’s’ ex-girlfriend?”

“What Harry does outside of our training is none of my business,” Y/N cleared her throat.

“Did something happen between you two? At the party, Mitch said he saw you two go off somewhere and now you’re being weird,” Sarah questioned.

“Nothing happened, Harry was just being his usual, annoying self,” Y/N hoped she was convincing enough to drop the subject, but Sarah continued to look at her like she knew there was something she wasn’t saying.

Thankfully, the bell for the first period was a perfect interruption. Y/N slammed her locker shut, “I’ll see you later?”

Sarah nodded, “Lunch, right?”

Y/N froze, remembering that Harry was a member of their usual lunch group, “Um, I-I have tutoring.”

“What?” Sarah furrowed her brows, “I thought you tutored on Wednesdays?”

“Change of schedule?” Y/N blurted out, grasping for an excuse.

Sarah’s eyes narrowed, “Something very weird is happening… Are you pregnant?”

“Okay, love you so much, bye,” Y/N rushed, giving Sarah a quick hug before walking quickly past her to avoid blurting out any more hideous lies.

As she turned the corner, she accidentally bumped into someone, her shoulder colliding with theirs. Y/N looked up, and her heart was in her mouth when she saw Harry looking down at her, something flashed in his eyes, his lips parting the same way hers did as she finally laid eyes on him after ignoring him all weekend. He was wearing his blazer for once, but his tie was loose around his neck.

“Y/N,” he breathed.

Y/N’s eyes softened, she wanted to speak to him, but then her cheeks flushed as she remembered the night in his bedroom. “I-I-” Her throat felt like she’d swallowed cotton wool as she tried to get her words out, “I can’t.” She shook her head, walking past him and ignoring him calling her name.

. . .

Y/N had hoped by ignoring the things that were bothering her, everything would fix itself on its own. It was a bad habit she hadn’t learned to kick and the situation with Harry was no different. 

They hadn’t spoken a word about their kiss since it happened, in fact, they barely spoke about anything at all. Y/N had hoped Harry would go back to their usual back-and-forth arguments and forget about everything but whenever she tried to say something that would push his buttons, he’d just ignore her or use one-worded replies. 

During tennis practice, he’d barely even look at her when she asked him a question and stopped arguing with her when she wanted to do things differently from the way he worked. She was even beginning to think her friends had figured out that something had gone down between them from the way Harry would completely shut down whenever she opened her mouth to speak during lunch break, 

As much as she hated herself for it, she missed him. Missed the way they would argue over everything but smile at each other because they both knew it wasn’t serious, missed the way he calmed her down whenever she would get too passionate about something and the way he looked at her like she was the only person in the room. 

She had tried to forget the kiss but she went to sleep dreaming about it. Every time he got anywhere near her, thoughts of his lips on hers flashed through her mind like a showreel. His low, drunken mumble when he spoke to her outplayed the music in her ears whenever she tried to listen to the playlist he had made for her. 

Worst of all, it was affecting her gameplay. Y/N was pretty sure she had never seen such terrible volleys or groundstrokes in her entire life. Every time she would try to aim the ball, she’d get distracted by Harry wiping sweat from his brow or watching her so intensely when she wasn’t looking like he was trying to set her on fire with his own eyes. 

The game was two weeks away and the dream of winning that scholarship was slowly slipping out of her grasp with every passing day. 

It was the end of the week and Y/N was sitting in her dorm room, eating cereal at her desk with her pyjama bottoms and her school shirt on. She was finishing up the last few questions of her math homework when Sarah walked in. 

“I need to show you something,” Sarah dropped her bag on the floor and pulled out a newspaper. 

“What’s wrong?” Y/N frowned, taking the rolled-up paper in her hands and unrolling it on her desk. Y/N’s eyes widened, her mouth falling open when she took in the image before her. 

It was a blown up picture of her and Harry on the front cover of the school newspaper. Harry had one arm around her waist and they were both looking into each other’s eyes, a smile on his face and a surprised look on hers. 

To everyone else, it looked like the front cover of a Nicholas Sparks novel and it probably didn’t help that the title was written in big bold letters with the words ‘The coach and his student’. 

“What the fuck!” Y/N stood up, gripping the newspaper in her hands she thought it might rip apart. 

“I know,” Sarah cringed, “I had no idea they were going to do that, Y/N, if I did I would never have gotten Luke that interview.”

“Sarah, ‘The coach and his student’? What is this? The title of a porno?” Y/N couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “How many people have seen this already?”

Sarah didn’t answer until Y/N gave her a stern look, “Everybody,”

Y/N groaned and threw the newspaper in the trash can beneath her desk before sliding on her trainers and storming down the hallways of her dorm. 

“Wait where are you going?” Sarah ran after her. Y/N ignored her as well as the people whispering about her as they held copies of the newspaper in their hands. She made a beeline for the car park, her gaze drawn to the familiar sight of his black Audi parked in its usual spot. There he was, leaning casually against it, engaged in conversation with Mitch, Adam, and Jake.

Mitch’s head turned when he saw her pacing towards them, Sarah still running behind her. Harry’s attention shifted to her. She saw the flash of amusement on his face before it fell flat again. 

“Have you seen this?” She held the newspaper up in front of him.

Harry’s eyes darted to the newspaper before landing on her face again, “Yes.” He said the usual one-worded reply he had been giving her all week. 

“And you approved of it?” She could feel the anger bubbling beneath the surface of her skin. 

“No,” He replied, “But it doesn’t bother me as much as it bothers you it seems.”

“Of course, it would bother me!” Y/N exclaimed, “If I’d have known they would make it look like we were a-”

Harry stilled, his jaw clenching, “If we were a what?”

Y/N paused before answering, “A couple.” He seemed to react in a way she couldn’t put her finger on, “I would have never done that stupid interview in the first place.”

Harry scoffed, “Why does it bother you so much to like me?” 

“It doesn’t bother me,” It did but she wouldn’t tell him that.

“You haven’t talked to me since Mitch’s party,” Harry started but she cut him off before he could say anything else.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” She stressed.

“You and I both know that’s not true.” 

“Harry you’re being ridiculous,”

“Says the girl who ran out here in her pyjama pants,” He quips.

Y/N looked down to realise she was, in fact, still in her pyjama bottoms. She glanced around at her friend’s who quickly looked away to act as though they weren’t all watching their argument like it was some kind of reality TV show moment. 

Harry’s shoulders dropped and he let out a sigh. He reached for her wrist and pulled her in closer. Y/N inhaled, it was the first time he had touched her since the party. “Look,” He murmured, keeping his voice low, “If I’d have known this was how you’d react I would have never have done it.”

Y/N looked surprised, “Really?” She couldn’t help but feel a sting at his words but she ignored it. 

He nods, “I went too far and I know things with you are different,”

“What do you mean?” But before Y/N could get a reply, she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. 

She pulled it out and felt a pit form in her stomach when her mother’s name lit up the screen. She immediately answered it and walked to the back of Harry’s car to speak to her. “Mum?” Y/N answered. 

“Your father got an email this morning,” Her mother replied. No hello, no how are you or how’s school, just straight to the point. 

“He did?” Y/N already knew where this was going. 

“It was a copy of the school newspaper,” Her mother’s voice sounded as though she was trying to keep her anger at bay, “We opened it hoping to see our daughter somewhere on the scholar’s page but low and behold there you were right on the front cover - with a boy no less.” 

“Mum-”

“We want to see you,” Her mother snapped, interrupting her, “Your father has reserved us a table at Château Blanc two weeks today. It’s the only day off he could get so be grateful.” 

Two weeks from today was the day before the semi-finals. She needed to train but she couldn’t say no to her mother, “Okay, I’ll be there.”

“Good.” Her mother replied before hanging up the phone. 

Y/N slipped the phone back and sighed, “Are you okay?” Harry’s voice sounded. 

“My parents have seen the newspaper,” Y/N’s jaw clenched, “They want me to have dinner with them.”

“Do you need me to come with you?” Harry looked at her with genuine concern.

“No, what I need you to do is leave me alone.” Y/N had shut down. It was the way she always got whenever she spoke to her parents. 

“Y/N I didn’t know-” He reached for her hand as she walked past but she quickly pulled it away. 

“Leave me alone Harry,” She said, completely defeated. 

Y/N made her way back to her dorm and collapsed on her bed letting out a sigh of frustration. She looked up at the ceiling and wondered if she would ever find the off switch that would finally offer her a break from the life she was living. 

. . . 

Harry stood on one side of the tennis court, sending tennis balls flying with his racket toward Y/N, who stood on the opposite side, swiftly striking them back. She tried to ignore the intensity of his gaze, which seemed to linger on her every move as if he were observing more than just her technique. 

Every time she attempted to slice or backhand the ball, it would completely falter landing somewhere off the court. Whilst her body was on the court, her mind was elsewhere like it had been every day since her parents had called. 

She made an attempt to drop-shot the ball only to end up missing it completely. “Fuck!” Y/N cried out and hit her racket against the ground over and over again in a fit of rage and frustration. 

“Okay, slow down there, love,” Harry chuckled, “Y’ gonna break the racket and I’m pretty sure it’s school property.”

“It’s my own racket,” Y/N replied. 

The corner of his lips tilted upwards, “You still mad about that kiss?” 

Y/N glanced around them to see if anyone heard him. It’s not like it would change anything, everyone already thought they were dating after the school newspaper came out, “No, I’m not mad. In fact, I’ve already forgotten it ever happened, my brain has fully wiped it from my memory.”

Harry’s lips transformed into a smirk, “Oh really?” He took a step forward and she took one back, “Replaced with all those books…and…tennis,” His eyes dart down to her lips. 

“Tennis…” She whispers, her heart thudding in her chest. 

“So you don’t think about it at all?” He asks. 

“N-not at all,” She lies, terribly. 

“Okay,” He shrugs, wiping the smirk from his face, “Well clearly something’s bothering you because those hits were the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

Y/N gives him a look, “It’s my parents. I’m meeting them for dinner this Friday and I haven’t seen them since they dropped me off here at the beginning of the year.”

“Are they that upset with you over the paper?” Harry looked concerned. 

“I guess so. My dad even reserved a table at Château Blanc. It’s his favourite place to get mad at me and my mum. He can book a booth and then try to control his anger whilst eating steak and mashed potatoes - honestly, it’s his dream scenario.” Y/N laughs but Harry doesn’t see the humour. She sighs, “I’m worried it will throw me off of the game.”

This time, Harry does smile, “I don’t think anyone could do that.” 

“Everything is piling up and I just feel so mad and I don’t know where to put it,” She huffs. 

Harry's smile softened. "Here," he offered his racket, "Use mine. Can’t have you breaking yours when you have a semi-final to win."

Y/N hesitated, then accepted the racket, seeking confirmation from Harry. With his nod, she began to hit the racket against the floor repeatedly, releasing her frustration with each strike. 

"Ugh," she screeched, "I’m so pissed."

"Oh, yeah, let it out," Harry encouraged with a chuckle.

With each slam of the racket, Y/N vented her frustration. "I just wanna play tennis!"

“I just want to win my next stupid game!”

“I just want my parents to like me!”

Suddenly, Harry joined in, mirroring her actions. “I hate that I have this stupid injury!

“I think my dad’s disappointed in me!”

“I just want the girl I like to like me back!”

They continued hitting the rackets on the ground until they started to crack and split from the force. As the rackets began to splinter, they exchanged a glance, a mix of exhaustion and relief evident in their eyes. With a final forceful slam, they both dropped their broken rackets to the ground, the sound echoing in the quiet of the tennis court.

Y/N looks down at their broken rackets on the floor, her chest heaving up and down. Unable to help herself, she starts laughing feeling relieved to have finally gotten all her anger out. Harry watches and then starts laughing with her. 

“Feel better?” He asks. 

Y/N nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Yeah," she replied softly, meeting his gaze, “I do.”

. . .

Y/N’s parents sent a car to pick her up on the night of the dinner. She sat in the back of the car in a pair of tights and a navy blue dress with a pair of brogues laced up on her feet. Her hair was in loose curls fastened with a clip at the back. Whenever she was around her parents, she always had to dress smart. 

She glanced at her phone to make sure she wasn’t running late as they pulled in front of the restaurant. She tipped the driver before leaving even if her parents wouldn’t agree if they found out later. 

The dimly lit restaurant looked elegant, with fancy lights and dark wood furniture. There were long curtains on the windows and the tables had white cloths and polished silverware. Gentle jazz music played in the background as people chatted across tables.

Y/N spotted her parents in their usual booth at the back. She made her way towards them but immediately began to panic when she realised they weren’t alone. 

Sitting across from them was Harry’s mother, Anne, who Y/N had last encountered briefly before when she had visited his apartment for the first time. She looked regal in her fancy dress and matching pearl jewellery. 

Beside her sat a man wearing a finely tailored suit and tie who resembled an older version of Harry, with grey hair and a face lined with wrinkles, but he didn't seem a day over sixty. His eyes were a darker shade of green than Harry’s were and his demeanour wasn’t as friendly. 

“Y/N,” Anne was the first to acknowledge her presence, smiling as she walked over.

It caught the attention of her own parents, who turned and forced a smile as though to project a united front in front of Harry’s parents. “Hello,” Y/N bent over to kiss her mother and father on the cheek in greeting. 

“Y/N, you remember Anne and James from the country club?” Her mother, Theresa, spoke.

“Of course,” Y/N sat in the chair beside her mother.

“We invited them to eat with us considering this matter contains them both.” 

Y/N nodded, not knowing what to say in response. She knew the dinner with her parents would have something to do with her participation in the Academy Slam but she hadn’t been expecting to see Harry’s parents too. 

“Did you see Harry on his way in?” Anne asked, “He said he was on his way earlier.”

“Mind if I sit here?” His voice appeared out of nowhere and Y/N’s entire body reacted in a way she couldn’t control around him.

Her head lifted to look up at him and the air knocked out of her. Unlike his usual casual attire, he was wearing a black suit with golden buttons and a black tie. His hair was better styled than the usual unruly mess of curls. He smiled down at her, his eyes seemed to brighten beneath the dim lights at the sight of her. 

He winked and sat down in the chair beside her, “Sorry I’m late.”

His presence overwhelmed her senses, the faint scent of his cologne filling the air as he settled into his seat. Whatever this dinner was meant to be had completely changed for her; she suddenly felt less alone.

“Harry,” Y/N’s father, David, spoke, “Haven’t seen you since you left for Australia.”

“It’s certainly been a while,” Harry spoke, smiling forcefully. 

After ordering their food, David speaks, “I assume you know why we’re here,” He directs the statement towards Y/N who feels everyone’s eyes on her.

“The newspaper?” She says.

“The tennis,” Her father replies, saying the words with a hint of disappointment. “Y/N, you don’t seriously think you’re going to get anywhere with this tennis thing do you?” 

Y/N’s cheeks warm in embarrassment, “What?”

This time Theresa spoke, “We understand you enjoy it for fun but don’t you think you’re being greedy taking the opportunity of a scholarship away from girls who want to waste their lives on it?”

“Mum,” Y/N starts, “Tennis… tennis is everything to me. I-I’m not doing this because it’s some game to me. I’m doing this because I don’t have a choice.”

Y/N feels Harry’s knee bump hers beneath the table like he was silently praising her for sticking up for herself, “Don’t be ridiculous Y/N,” David says, “All you’ve ever talked about is going into medicine.”

“Because it was all you were willing to hear,” Y/N quickly responded.

A throat cleared from across the table and Harry’s father looked directly at him, “Don’t think this doesn’t apply to you.”

Harry frowns, “What are you talking about?”

“Coaching Harry? Seriously? After your injury? You know the doctor said you could worsen the damage if you continued and you disobeyed that for what? A silly game of girl’s tennis?” 

He scoffed, “Here we go,”

“Harry,” His mother warned. 

“You know we all agreed that if you were to go back to school you’d need to pick up on other subjects so you could actually go somewhere in life? Instead, we have to hear from your teachers how your grades have fallen only to find you on the front cover of the school newspaper with a girl who can’t hire her own coach and has to put you at risk?” 

Harry’s hands ball into fists beneath the table. Y/N didn’t know whether she felt more embarrassed or ashamed, all this felt like her fault and she didn’t know what to do. 

“I-I didn’t mean to put him at risk, Mr Styles,” Y/N stutters. She feels Harry place a hand on her knee. 

“Y/N, this will stop at once. I’m requesting the school pull you out of the competition.” Her father says and Y/N swears she feels her heart breaking.

“No please,” She was willing to get down on her hands and knees and beg, “Please Dad, this means everything to me.”

David raises a hand, “I won’t hear any of it. If it means you can focus on passing your exams and Harry no longer has to think about his injury then you can quit.” 

“N-no, I won’t let you take this away from me. I’ve been good, I study every day and I’m top of all my classes, why can’t you let me just have this one thing?” She didn’t care if she sounded childish or insane, this competition was all she had been working for. 

“Oh quit blubbering Y/N,” Her mother spoke, rolling her eyes, “You know I hate it when you do that.”

“Please, please,” Y/N doesn’t know what more she can do or say, they wouldn’t listen. 

Harry pushed his chair back, the sound catching everybody’s attention as the legs scraped against the floor, “I think Y/N and I will eat elsewhere,” Harry spoke, taking her hand beneath the table and flipping it over to intertwine their fingers. His thumb rubbed over the pulse point on her wrist in a way to calm her down. 

“What are you talking about?” James huffed. 

“Do any of you actually know how hard Y/N works?” Harry spits, “I doubt it because you’re all too busy counting the paper in your wallet to look up at your own fucking kids.” 

“Harry,” Anne gasps.

“No,” He glares at both his father and Y/N’s parents, “Y/N studies six hours a day, every day. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her take a break from it. When she’s not studying, she’s on the court blistering her hands just so she can get at least one perfect shot. She is the most brilliantly smart person I know and you may not care or fight for her but I will. I always will and right now I will not let you take away something she has worked so deeply hard for.” He stands from the table, still holding Y/N’s hand and everyone can see it as she refuses to let go. 

“Harry, sit down,” James orders but he ignores him.

“You’ve been disappointed in me since the moment I injured myself. I know you think I’m no good to you anymore, in fact, I’ve accepted it and I am glad for it because I have never been so happy and if you looked long enough you’d realise it.” Harry looks down at Y/N, his eyes filled with passion and anger and sincerity, “I am happy.” He says, “Because of what she has given me.” 

James scoffs, “And what is that?”

Harry’s head spins in the direction of his father, “Something you know nothing about.”

And with that, Harry tugs on Y/N’s hand to lead her out of the restaurant. 

Before they could fully walk away, Y/N felt her mother pulling her back, “If you walk out of this restaurant…”

“You’ll what? Never speak to me again? As if that’s anything new,” Y/N scoffs, “Nothing I do will ever be enough to either of you, will it?”

Y/N ignored the throbbing in her chest at her mother’s lack of reply, instead, she walked alongside Harry, holding his hand as they left the restaurant and reached his car.

Outside, the cool breeze felt nice on her warm skin. They shared a glance before Y/N started laughing so hard she started to cry. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she sobbed softly. Harry looked at her with a gentle expression, giving her space to let out her feelings and make sense of everything that had just happened.

“I don’t normally cry so can you look away?” Y/N sobs, unable to help herself as the tears fall from her eyes.

“No I don’t think I can do that,” Harry says, “You’re too pretty,”

Y/N huffs a laugh through her tears as she tries to wipe them away with the back of her hand, “I feel stupid,” She whispers to herself, her head falling forward. 

She sees Harry’s shoes on the ground and lifts her head up to look up at him towering above her. He smiles and pushes her hair out of her face, “Hi Y/N,” He murmurs.

“Hi Harry,” She whispers.

“Sorry for kidnapping you,” He says and Y/N chuckles.

“S okay,” She murmurs, her hands balling at her sides when he steps closer until his face is right in front of hers. 

“Can I admit something? You can pretend to be a little shocked if you want,” Harry asks. 

“Okay,”

“I’m crazy for you,” He admits, the words stealing her breath, “I’ve been crazy for you since third year since you followed me around the playground threatening to beat me up with a tennis racket if I didn’t show you how to use one.” 

Y/N’s lips parted, unsure of what to respond with so she let him talk, “And I’ve spent all these years pining for your attention even if it was just a scrap but I don’t think I can take it anymore. I like you Y/N, I like you so much I don’t know how to breathe until I’m around you. I thought tennis was what bought me happiness but I don’t think it ever has. The only reason I ever loved tennis as much as I do is because of you.” 

“Harry,” Y/N’s eyes glisten at the boy in front of her. The boy she had spent her whole life arguing with because no one had ever frustrated her as much as he had. 

“Do you hate me?” He asks, his eyes worried, “Because after that kiss I thought you did for a moment.”

Y/N shook her head, “No,” She murmured, “I don’t hate you.”

He let out a sigh of relief, “Okay, well that’s good.”

“No one has ever stuck up for me before,” Y/N says, “Or believed in me the way you do. I’ve always done it all on my own.” Harry’s expression softens, “I think all this time I thought I was hating you, I was actually afraid of you because you make these things happen in my brain that I couldn’t seem to ever figure out.”

“Have you got them figured out yet?” Harry cups her cheek in his hand, it’s warm and soft and everything she needs.

“Not everything, but I do know one thing,” Y/N stands on her toes, looping her arms around his neck and smiling harder than she’s ever smiled - ever. “I like you an awful lot, Harry,” 

Harry’s smile outshone the moon. It was the happiest she’d ever seen him and maybe the happiest she’d ever been too. A sense of relief seemed to feel the air, Y/N felt lighter like she was a tennis ball flying through the air right into the palm of his hand, “You mean that?” He murmured, lips ghosting her cupid's bow. 

“I do,” She says, “But if you make me say it again I’ll lie and say I don’t mean it,”

“Okay,” He whispers, his mouth grazing hers as he holds her face in his hands, “I won’t make you say it again.”

Instead, Harry surged forward with such urgency and kissed her upper lip between his. Y/N’s eyes flutter shut but the whole world becomes brighter when she does. She was consumed by him, all of her senses had just become Harry. His tongue darted and tangled with hers, his hands pulling her in impossibly close trying to mould them together. 

When Harry’s lips pulled away, Y/N’s eyes remained shut and she was immediately desperate to experience that feeling all over again. Harry chuckled and she opened her eyes, his lips were pinker from the lipstick she was wearing, his eyes hazy and she was pretty sure her own pupils were carved into hearts just from looking at him.

“Can we go back to my place?” He asks.

Y/N didn’t even need a moment to think about it, “M’kay,”

. . . 

Harry could barely contain his desire as they made their way to his apartment. With a forceful push, the door swung open, and he pressed Y/N against it, his lips hungrily exploring every inch of her face and trailing down her neck. Despite her attempts to remove his shirt, her hands kept gravitating back to his tousled curls, pulling him closer for more intense kisses.

As they tumbled onto the couch, Harry hovered over her, his gaze filled with desire. "Harry," Y/N's voice quivered with a mixture of excitement and nervousness, "I-I've never done this before," she confessed, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"What? Never kissed anyone? That's hard to believe because you're really good at it," Harry teased, peppering kisses along her neck.

"No, I mean... I've never..." Y/N trailed off, the implication clear.

Understanding dawned in Harry's eyes. "Is that what we're doing?" he smirked, enjoying her flustered reaction.

His expression softened. "Would it make you feel better if I told you I haven't either?" he confessed.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise. "What? But what about Astrid? You were together for a year."

"Astrid's family is Catholic," Harry explained. "And if it ever came to that, I don't think I could go through with it."

"Why?" Y/N questioned, her curiosity piqued.

"Because," Harry shrugged, "I've only ever wanted you."

Y/N's heart fluttered at his words, a rush of emotions flooding her. "Don't act so surprised," Harry chuckled.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Y/N inquired, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Because..." Harry paused, his gaze locking with hers, "I knew I needed to be careful with you.”

Y/N huffs, “I’m not fragile,” 

His smile is sweet and gentle when he replies, “Maybe not to everyone else,” His breath fans across her cheeks, “But you are to me.” 

Y/N melts into the couch when he kisses her again. She didn’t know kissing could be so magical but suddenly they were eight years old again where life was simpler and games were just for fun, books were read for enjoyment and Y/N’s emotions weren’t so difficult to navigate. 

It was strange having someone understand her the way Harry did. Her whole life she thought no one was paying attention to her, not even her own parents, but he had been admiring her from afar for most of their lives together. 

“We don’t have to do anything tonight,” Harry says, “I don’t want to rush this with you. I want to do it right,”

Y/N’s lips curve, “You could never do it wrong,” 

He holds her to him, their legs intertwined on the end of the couch. Y/N had always thought the court was where she was meant to be but maybe this was where she needed to be all along. After all, tennis would not be in her life if it weren’t for Harry. 

. . .

“Okay, you gotta go baby,” Harry slurs against her mouth as she continues to kiss him. 

“Wait,” She whines and he smiles, feeling delirious whilst their lips connect repeatedly. His hands reach are holding her thighs as they wrap around him, her hands in his hair pulling him closer. 

They hear Y/N’s name from the umpire once more and Harry has to find the strength to pull away. His lips ghost the skin of her cheek, “Y’ gonna go and win this?” 

“Mhm,” She sighs, releasing herself from his hold and grabbing her tennis bag.

“Hey,” Harry pulls her back into him and she makes a little ‘oof’ sound. He holds her face in his hands, “You think you’re so hard to read? Not with me,” 

Y/N huffs, “I’m nervous. What if I don’t win? She’s your ex-girlfriend and everybody’s made a big deal about this because they already think we’re dating.”

“We are though aren’t we?” Harry quirks a brow, “Dating?”

Y/N looks at him blankly before hitting him on the shoulder, “Obviously Harry!”

He chuckles, “Okay, okay,” His hands slide down her arms to thread his fingers with hers at their sides, he lifts them up so their hands are pressed against each other and leans in close, “Remember what I told you about your anger? And how it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen and now that you’re my girlfriend I’m allowed to say that but honestly it’s the hottest thing ever and I almost die everytime I watch you play and I see you get all mad and-”

“Harry, focus,” Y/N snapped before she grinned and kissed him quickly, “But thank you, your ass looks pretty good on the court too.”

“Are you being for real?” Harry says, his mouth falling open, but he shakes his head to bring himself back to the main point at hand. He couldn’t pull her away for another make out session not when they were already late as it was, “But anyway, this game is no different to the others just because you’re playing against Astrid. Use everything you have and channel it against her.” 

Y/N nods, her eyes twinkling when she looks at him, “You’re a pretty good coach,” 

“You’re a pretty hot tennis player,” 

“Okay stop,” She pulls away and grabs her tennis bag.

“What?” He throws his hands in the air and laughs, “Now that I’m your boyfriend can I freely look at your ass under that skirt whilst you play?”

Y/N spun on her heel and glared at him, “That’s misogyny.”

“But I’m obsessed with you,” He argues.

She pauses for a moment and then nods, “Fine but don’t make it obvious,” 

. . .

Harry stood on the sidelines, his heart pounding as he watched Y/N prepare for Astrid's final serve. The tension in the air was palpable; it was match point, and the game had been intense.

Harry had always considered Y/N the greatest tennis player he had ever seen. Maybe he was biased because he’d also been hopelessly infatuated with her since they were in third year but nothing compared to seeing his girl play on the court. 

He couldn’t seem to breathe as Astrid threw the ball into the air and hit it so hard with her racket, the sound echoed across the court. 

Y/N ran to retaliate, backhanding it straight back to her. His eyes stayed fixed on the girl who he had confessed his feelings to just last night. 

Astrid had tried to throw Y/N off multiple times during the game. Waving to her fans in the crowd whenever they would take a moments break or trying to remind her that she was Harry’s ex-girlfriend. Harry had told her to ignore it but Y/N didn’t exactly need advice on how to hit back at her opponent, she’d do it all in the game. 

It was a long match of back and forth before Y/N finally decided to go all in, hitting the ball with so much power and precision it landed in the line and bounced straight off the court. 

Crestwood students erupted in cheers as Astrid threw her racket to the ground having lost the game. Harry could feel the rush of elation over his entire body, his fist pumping the air when the scores appeared on screen with Y/N winning the entire thing. 

Y/N didn’t need to go anywhere to celebrate because the one person she wanted was standing right in front of her. She dropped her racket to the floor and ran into his open arms, “That’s my girl,” He spun her around, “You did it, baby, I knew you could.” 

Y/N was beaming, leaning down to kiss him in front of the whole crowd of people. “We’re going to the final,” She squealed, hugging him tightly. 

“You and me,” Harry responded. 

. . .

taglist: @storyschanging @lilbredsticc @esposa-do-harry @st-ev-ie @itschelseacisneros @hermionelove

[starboye]

pairing: prince ben x male reader x harry hook

request: hey can you do a ben x harry hook x male reader where they Both fuck you but harry is really rough while ben is gentle. and harry is very kinky with pet names and stuff

warnings: smut, rough sex, slight degradation, soft sex, lil praise, pet names, cursing, oral sex

harry hook and prince ben, known for being sworn enemies but they had to put that hate aside when you arrived to school, the hottest guy they had ever layed eyes on and they both wanted you, but you... well you had an ego to say the least, very snappy and rude, harry didn't like that much so he decided to fuck you and ben couldn't possibly miss the chance to fuck you.

"yeah such a good slut for a us right" harry grins watching you go dumb over his dick, your face shoved into a pillow as you let out a bunch of moans and whimpers "c'mon harry you dont have to call him a slut" ben says caressing your back to soothe the pain you feel lower "shut up ben we both know he loves this" harry grunts pulling your hair to lift your face up from the pillows.

you let out a loud whine as harry does so, trying to hide your face from the embarrassment you feel "hey you okay" ben coos wiping the tears from your face, you nod slowly at his question before trying to cover your face again, not wanting to be any more embarrassed than you already are "harry dont you think you could go a little slower" ben asks.

"no the whore deserves it, walking around here like he's better than everyone else" harry says moving his hands to grip your waist as hi thrusts become rougher and harder "don't worry it'll be over soon" ben softly say as you continue to moan "can you shut him the fuck up, if you don't i will" harry says, and you know he will i mean he's done it before (which resulted in you not being able to take for a week).

"can you suck it just for me" ben asks stroking his dick lightly, you nod and lower your head onto bens dick, sucking is slowly as ben grips onto the bed sheets "his mouth feels so good right, i trained it myself" harry chuckles thrusting forward hardly to push you down on bens dick quicker.

you gag at the feeling of his dick rushing down your throat "harry!" ben yells "will you shut up and just enjoy this" harry rolls his eyes, his thrusts into slowing down for just a second before pick up pace again, you pull away from his dick out of pure instinct because of the hours of fucking he's put you through "don't run from it baby" harry says says quickly grabbing your hips to plant his dick back in your sloppy hole.

you let out a gargled moan at the feeling of his dick back in your sensitive hole but ben soothes you with his gentle words "it's okay you got this darling" ben says lightly guiding your head up and down "mhm just like that up and down" he coos resting his back on the head board, letting out satisfied groans as you pleasure him.

"fuck m'gonna cum" harry groans "then please cum and let y/n rest" ben pleas, his eyes still glued to the sight of you swallowing his dick whole"you want him to cum in you" ben asks you, you nod slowly, feeling your second climax coming on "yeah i bet you would, such a good boy for us" harry says slapping your ass and wrapping his hand around your dick.

he jerks you off at the same pace of his thrusts; rough and quick wanting you to cum at the same time, you moan around bens dick as harry does so, his hands digging into the mattress to keep them from grabbing your head and fucking his cock into your throat "fuckkk" you hear harry groan before his cum floods your hole.

his cum painting your walls white is just enough tip you over the edge and cum in harrys hand "it's your turn now big boy" harry huffs looking at ben, your eyes stared up at ben as you continue to suck him off, i mean ben wanted to hold out for a little longer but the way your teary eyes and needy face look at him has him thinking he wants to start a family with you.

"f- fine" ben stammer as just with the first utter from his mouth you were rolling your tongue around his tip and getting his dick all the way down your throat, he let out a long groan as he came in your mouth, some of it dripping off to the side "be a good boy for the nice man and swallow" harry whispers in your ear.

you swallow all the cum with a gulp as you and ben hold deep eye contact for a couple seconds before you let out a wince of pain as harry pulls out of your sloppy hole "hey break it up you love birds" harry says snapping you both from looking at each other "yeah i gotta get going anyways, princely duties and all" ben stammers getting up to stop himself from getting another hard on.

"yeah me too, gotta go do some things for my parents" you say getting out of the bed and putting on your clothes and walking out the room, the way ben watched you go with admiration in his eyes made you think this isn't the last time you were gonna be filled by the two.

taglist: @mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat

[hier--soir]

ripe

pre-outbreak joel miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: a night out with old friends helps you and joel realise what’s been missing in your relationship. warnings/tags: pre-outbreak, set in the early 2000s, early thirties joel my lover boyy, bisexual reader, established relationship, that one shit stirring friend, brief alcohol consumption and piv sex at the onset, brief masturbation [m] in the bath, a little ass eating and fingering, a little spitting, pegging, dirty talk, praise, dildo is described as "your cock" multiple times, reach around hand job you will always be famous, they talk each other through it, the word hole is used 11 times but it feels like 100, also they're in love okay bye. word count: 5.3k masterlist a/n: this is being posted as a part of the PMAMC organised by @wannab-urs ! if you wanna read more glorious pegging fics for pp characters, a masterlist of everything being posted this week will be shared by gin soon! <3 x much thanks to @bageldaddy for holding my dick while i wrote this, for the edit, and for reminding me that where there is gape, there must also be affection x

Oil Can Harry’s is dark and loud; packed enough that condensation drips off the walls around you and makes the hair at the base of your neck frizz.

Packed into a sweaty booth, Joel’s flannel amidst all the glitter and hairspray and fruity cocktails of the drag night makes you grin. Your oldest friends fawn over him, endeared by the way he talks, the way he stands, the way he looks at you.

He smiles, warm and sheepish as they regale him with stories from years ago. Blushes when they remind him that he’s the first cock in a long line of cunts. Squeezes your knee beneath the table when they assert that he must be doing something right to have been kept around this long.

He settles in fast, lips slick and eyes glazed. Stops flustering while ordering Wet Pussys and Cock Sucking Cowboys, but still raises an eyebrow when a friend asks you, isn’t there anything you miss about it?

About what?

Dating women.

You roll your eyes, the sharp tang of vodka beneath your tongue as you shake your head. No.

S’not all that different, Joel offers up, smiling easily. Right?

So you tell him, No, and then, I mean, it is. But good different.  

But your cheeks have gone hot, eyes downcast as you sip a pink drink and try not to think about what exactly you miss. But Joel, fingers firm on your thigh, knows. He always knows.

So later when you’re in his bed, thighs pressed flush to your chest and he’s sinking inside your wet heat, it’s clear he isn’t letting up that easily. 

“You jealous?” he hums, elated and almost taunting, revelling in the way you sound as he fucks you. “Miss being the one fuckin’ someone this good?”

“Oh fuck off,” you whine, breathlessly embarrassed, gripping his shoulder and rutting your hips up against his, chasing the high that’s already tingling in your stomach.

“Naw, I want you to tell me.” He leans in, all ears for the dirty confession waiting to spill from your lips, loving it. “You miss your cock, baby?”

His hips press deeper, and the confession leaves your lips in a gasp. “Yes, fuck, okay yes I miss it.”

“Mm, you gonna show me it sometime?”

You feel your face go slack, stomach tightening at the thought, and Joel pushes further, harder.  

“Yeah baby, that’s what you want,” he goads, reaching between your bodies to press his fingers to your clit. “Want to fuck me, yeah? Bend me over and show me how much you miss it?”

You come with blood rushing in your ears and your hand gripping his ass, mind a blur of images of you being the one fucking him.

The next morning, sorely hungover and still tangled in his bedsheets, he asks if you were serious.

“Serious about what?” you ask, throat hoarse, eyes still closed.

His hand slips down your back to grip the flesh of your ass, the tip of his middle finger pressing dangerously close to your asshole until your eyelids crack open and you look at him. Brain ticking over, catching up slowly, eyes widening when you understand his train of thought.

When you don’t respond, head pounding and heart racing, he says, “If that’s what you want I’d—”

But caught up in the moment, in your own bashfulness, you interrupt him. Face warm at the idea of him having to placate you the morning after a drunken confession, you kiss him and say, “Don’t worry about it, okay?”  

Joel goes a little quiet, but kisses you back with fervour. Sucks your lower lip into his mouth and rolls on top of you, not letting you get out of bed until well into the afternoon.

It’s not until a month later that it all finally becomes clear. 

The house is oddly quiet when you get home.

Your living room is lit up by lamps across the space, but the television is off, and the couch cushions look undisturbed.

“Joel?” you call softly, stepping into the kitchen, pausing in confusion when you don’t find him there either.

You drop your purse on the counter and rifle through it for your phone, pulling up your text thread with him to reread his messages from a few hours ago.

You staying out late?

Not tonight, AJ has work early tomorrow. I should be home by 9. Meet me there? x

Perfect. See you at 9 x

The clock on your microwave reads 9:24 but you can’t hear a peep from anywhere in the house. Not a creaking floorboard or a shower running or even a snoring boyfriend.

“Babe, are you here?”

Nothing seems amiss at all until you reach the bathroom and find the door slightly ajar, light spilling out into the hallway as soft little sounds float out to your ears. Quiet murmurs punctuated by water lapping against porcelain.

“Joel?” You crack a knuckle against the door, careful not to nudge it open without his permission. “You okay?”

A rough inhale sounds behind the door and you pause, heartrate spiking a little. But then his voice calls through the wood, a little stilted as he says, “You can come in.”

Joel Miller hardly fits in your bathtub. All the times he’d joked about trying to squeeze in there with you, or when he’d come over with a sore back but insisted on a shower instead. But seeing him now, torso submerged in the water, muscled legs propped up against the wall with his hand resting between his thighs… you certainly aren’t complaining to see your broad boyfriend cramped up in your bath, touching himself.

“Hello there,” you murmur, bending to press a kiss to his sweaty temple. The tips of his curls are damp, frizzing around his ears as he smiles up at you. “Indulging yourself tonight I see.”

“You got no idea,” he replies, chin tilting upward as he stares you square in the face.

You smile at his flushed cheeks, at the muscle in his bicep flexing as he touches himself. Your gaze follows the veins in his arm, the flick of his wrist, but when you look into the water you pause. His cock is a rich red colour, hard and throbbing where it rests, neglected against his stomach. His thick fingers disappear past his balls, curling slowly out of your sight.

“Joel,” you exhale, face warming as you watch, slowly understanding. “Are you…?”

A harsh stream of air bursts from his nostrils as he meets your eyes, cheeks burning hotter by the second.

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about it,” he admits gruffly. “Not since that night at the bar.”

“Fuck,” you shake your head, frowning a little. “I thought you were just… Joel, I’m sorry I brushed you off that night—”

“Naw,” he tuts quickly, brushing the apology away with a jerk of his chin. “I should’ve said.”

There’s a brief silence, your brain racing to catch up, a slow smile slipping across your face.

“Read that a bath helps,” he says then, gaze heavy. “Soft and loose the website said.”

And whatever you’d been about to say, whatever thought was bubbling in your mind, slips away in an instant.

In its place, just a bone deep, aching love for this man. It’s clear in his eyes; tenderness, and care swirling in his stare. Endless brown, struck with adoration, clearly saying, I want to do this for you, with you.

Throat tight, you lower onto your knees beside the tub. “S’it feel good?”

A breath rattles through his chest, and he nods again.

You lean closer, craning your neck to try and see better. Find yourself wanting to catch the exact way he presses his fingers inside himself. How he curls them, massaging inside himself. But he notices and pulls his hand away, gripping his cock instead and grunting.

“Looked through your stuff.”

“Hmm?” You meet his eye again, mouth dry.

“The drawer in your closet,” he exhales, eyelids fluttering as he strokes himself. “Found your… I don’t know.”

“My what?”   

“The harness,” he grunts out, fist tightening around his cock. The tip rests out of the water, flushed an angry mauve colour, little beads of pearly come oozing from his slit. “All the… I don’t know what the fuck you call ‘em. You know what I mean, alright?”

“Joel.” You laugh a little, endeared by how bashful he can be, even as he touches himself in front of you. “Don’t get shy on me now, baby.”

“M’not.”

“No?” You smile, voice low and breathy now, liquid heat sparking in your veins the longer the idea percolates through your mind. “So you want me to fuck you?”

“You know I do.”

“You’re gonna let me put my cock in you, stretch you out just right for me, the way I let you do to me every night?”

“Fuck.” Joel’s eyes pinch shut, fist tightening around his cock.

You reach in and yank out the plug, watching as water begins to spin and gurgle, and Joel grips the edges to pull himself up. The water drips off him in thick beads, pouring from his fingertips, down the centre of his chest, keeping the curls at the base of his cock tight and dark. 

He’s over the lip of the tub in a second, crowding you against the sink with a thick arm on either side of you, wet chest darkening the fabric of your blouse, mouth slotting against mouth. Steam warmed lips smother yours, tongue snaking out to press inside your mouth, and he swallows down every little moan and gasp of excitement you feed into his kiss. His cock is warm against your stomach and his hips stutter back every time you grind the buckle of your belt against him, grinning into his mouth.

“Gonna make it good for me?” He grips your face in both hands. Tilts your chin up and smears nasty kisses over your jaw, down your neck to the collar of your shirt, skin smarting where his teeth snap at it. “Take care of me the way I do for you?”

“You know I will,” you pant, eyelids fluttering as he sucks at hollow of your throat. “Fuck, I bet you’re so tight.”

Joel releases a wrecked, gravelly moan against your skin and then he’s gripping your arm, nudging you forward, past the threshold and into your dimly lit bedroom. The closet is open, third drawer down hanging limply out from the chest. Inside you can see that things have been shifted around, looked at. And on your bed, there’s a dildo. Heat rises in your chest as you stare at it. Thick and long and red, with a curved tip and raised silicone decorating shaft to give the illusion of veins.

Joel drapes an arm around your waist, holding you back against his bare chest. The thick weight of his cock presses against the base of your spine and you sigh, grinding back into him.

“Remembered you sayin’ it was your favourite.” He nips at your neck, inhaling as his nose presses into your hair. Your chest swells at that, and you turn your head, let your lips find his in a soft kiss.

That hand on your waist drifts down until his palm is cupping your sex through your pants, fingers pressing firmly over the inseam there. You sigh into his mouth, hand falling overtop his to keep it in place.

“It is my favourite,” you murmur into the kiss. “But we’re gonna start much smaller tonight, hmm?”

Joel makes a vague noise in the back of his throat, dark eyes searching yours.

“Don’t think I can handle it?”

“You’d be cruisin’ for a bruisin’, baby.”

Somehow, he blushes deeper than before, and clears his throat.

 “Alright.”  

He watches on as you dip a hand into the drawer. You gravitate to glass. Thick rose quartz with a gorgeous, rounded base. But you push it away, knowing it won’t work with your harness. You trace the length of a pretty mauve cock, ribbed for your pleasure—or his—with preternaturally large balls. Still too long. Everything too long, too thick, too much. But then you see it. Pale blue silicone, nestled beneath silk rope ties and a set of handcuffs you guys hadn’t used in in a while. You shift things away and pick it up.

Soft and smooth; it’s maybe 6 inches long with a little curve towards the end, and it’s oh so pretty in your hand. You grab a bottle of lube and turn to put them on the bed, smiling at the way his dark eyes focus on the items. So curious, so filled with desire, with eagerness to please, to let you do this to him, for him, with him. The trust on his face warms your chest and sets your heart racing.

Joel lands softly on the mattress as you reach back in. Fingers meet leather and soon enough he’s watching as you peel your pants down your legs, your underwear. Undoing the buttons on your blouse as he strokes his cock, pupils dilated, mouth hanging open. Only when you’re bare do you slip your legs into the harness, sighing as black leather tickles against your skin on the way up, and situate it around your hips. Only a little shy under the intensity of his gaze, watching him see you like this for the first time.

Pulling and twisting straps until it’s perfectly snug, you crawl up the bed to straddle his hips. His skin is warm and wet against yours, and his hands fall to your hips in seconds, wide eyes admiring the contraption fixed to your waist. He toys with the straps, eyeing the little silver fasteners, and then glides a finger around the inside circumference of the o-ring, breathing a little deeper now.

“S’nice,” he compliments, looking back up at your face. “You’re… you…”

“What?”

He shakes his head, as if in disbelief. “You’re gorgeous.”

You stare down at him for a moment; the hard set of his jaw, the strong line of his nose. Lean in and kiss him, softly this time. Whisper, so are you, against his lips and smile when he laughs.

Tapping his side, you get off and urge him to turn over. “Let me show you.”

His broad body twists, falling to land on his front with his legs bent, weight balanced on his knees and forearms. You trail featherlight fingers over his thick shoulder blades, down the strong line of his spine. Touch the little dimples at the small of his back, and then lean down to kiss them. Slowly, one and then the other. You feel his breath hitch a little and smile against his skin, landing on your knees between his calves and letting your hands fall over the muscled cheeks of his ass. Squeezing, kneading the flesh there with tender hands, and then pushing them apart, baring him to you.

“Oh,” you breathe quietly, eyes trained on the dark hair on his skin, the tight little hole between his cheeks. “So pretty, Joel.”

You sigh into the crease of his ass, fingers digging into the firm flesh of his cheeks as your tongue flicks out to glide over his hole. Still wet from the bath, he tastes like soap and warmth and Joel. His body goes tense for a second, back muscles flexing as he adjusts to the new sensation.

“Y’ain’t gotta do that—”

“I want to.”

You kiss the base of his spine again. Give him a moment to tell you he doesn’t want it, or he doesn’t like it. But seconds pass, and he stays silent, so you grin and lean down.  Eyes closed now, you lick him again; soft little strokes of your tongue from his balls to his tight hole until his body goes soft and lax and he’s exhaling little sighs into the pillows.

“Fuck,” he says. “So this is what I’ve been missin’, hmm?”

You hum against him, the corner of your mouth ticking up into a little smile as you prod your tongue against his rim, urging him to relax more so you can press deeper. As he opens up for you, you squeeze his hips gratefully, fingers soft and kind against his skin.

“So good for me,” he continues breathlessly, almost babbling now, stream of consciousness pouring from his lips in between sharp gasps and low grunts. “Got the prettiest little mouth, I wish I could see it baby—fuuuck—that’s it, good girl.”

Your fingers flutter a steady rhythm over the skin of his thighs. Caressing the dark hairs there, the twitching muscles, humming when he shivers beneath your touch. The harness digs into the flesh at the inside of your thighs, at your hips, and you almost moan at the familiar bite of it. Relish in the way it pinches at your skin when you bend and raise your ass in the air, working him open around your tongue.

With your nose pressed against his skin, you lathe messy kisses against his hole. Feel the way it clenches beneath your tongue and whine, inhaling the natural musk of him as you go. Your mind a blur with soft skin and rough hair and tight tight tight around your tongue.

Drunk on the taste of him, you let your hand drift from his thigh around his waist. Float across his stomach, forefinger dragging over his belly button, his happy trail, down down until your fingers glide over the slick head of his cock. Joel jumps a little, hypersensitive, and exhales a rough moan as your fingers wrap around his length and slowly begin to stroke. With the steady movement of your hand his asshole begins to pulse beneath your tongue and so you pull back to watch it. Admire the way it flutters and clenches. Quick, so fast your mind can hardly process it, you’re collecting saliva in your mouth and letting it drool past your lips, wet and messy as it pools over his asshole. Joel’s cock throbs in your hand and he groans. You think he even arches his back a little, his entire body pleading for you to just put your mouth back on him. But you take a second; watch your slick spit turn his skin shiny and grin, raising hand to suck your fingers into your mouth and then press your middle finger against him.

The tip of your finger presses forward, working to relax that tight ring of muscle, and he exhales heavily.

“I wanna fuck you so bad,” you tell him, voice thick with want as you pull your eyes off his ass to meet his stare.

“Then quit playin’ around and fuck me.” He presses back against you and groans when your finger slips inside his ass.

“Hey,” you warn, curling it slowly inside him. So warm and tight, unforgiving at first as you try to stroke at his insides. “Slow, okay?”

“Just want to feel you.” It’s clear on his face too. Pupils dilated, vulnerability splashed across his features with nowhere to hide.

“You will,” you soothe, pulling your hand back only to work a second finger inside. Kiss his skin again. “Let me take care of you.”

He doesn’t voice any complaints after that. Too busy with his face pressed against the pillows, drooling and grunting as you stretch him out around your fingers, his tight hole clamped down around the digits. You don’t touch his cock again, too worried he’ll come before you can really give him your all, but he gives pitiful little ruts toward the mattress. Soon enough his movements become so needy, so often, that, with a pang in your chest, you figure it must be painful. You almost ask how long he was touching himself before you came home, but then he’s interrupting the thought, reaching back to grip your wrist, wide eyes pleading with you from over his shoulder.

“Alright, love,” you murmur, pulling your fingers back and nodding. “I think you’re ready.”

Resting back on your heels, you grab the dildo and work it into the ring on your harness. Checking once, twice, to make sure it’s stable, before opening the bottle of lube. You squirt some onto your fingers, some directly onto the tip of the cock, and begin working it over the length, admiring the way it turns shiny beneath your touch.

“S’a pretty cock baby,” Joel admires, cheeks flushed. He watches you over his shoulder, eyes heavy-lidded as you stroke silicone, lube warming between your palm and the shaft.

“You like it?” He nods and your chest warms with pride at the way his eyes darken, gaze darting continuously from your face to the piece between your legs. “Well, you’re gonna love how it feels.”

A fresh pump of lube onto your fingers and you’re shifting forward, on your knees again, lathering it onto his hole, smiling at the squelch as you pump your fingers inside him and push it in.

And then, soon enough, pale blue meets dark pink. Prods and presses, soft at first, and then firmer as he relaxes for you. Lube rolls down the shaft in rivulets, pooling against puckered skin, drooling lower to coat his balls, and a low sound rumbles from Joel’s chest. When you pause, his chin ticks to the side and he peers past his shoulder to look at you.

“You good?” he asks.

“Mhm. You ready?”

“Yeah.”

Joel shivers when your hand lands at the base of his spine, thumb resting in the cleft of his ass, right above where you’ve started to press the tip inside him. The skin beside his eyes tightens, and he nudges his hips back into you, almost imperceptibly. You shiver at the sight, a sharp flush of arousal sparking between your thighs as you admire the plump shape of his ass. Like a ripe piece of fruit, begging to be split open.  

Joel chuckles knowingly; can see it in your eyes, the way your mouth hangs open. “Come on now. I know you’re dying for it, baby.” 

You grip his hip to keep him steady, cock notched against his opening, and continue pressing forward. Just gentle rolls of your hips at first, making sure everything is wet enough, checking in every now and then. But once the rounded tip pushes inside, Joel starts to squirm. His skin is flushed a deep red, beads of sweat rolling down his back, and you stroke his skin to soothe him.

“Joel?”

“Need you inside me.” His voice cracks a little on the last word,

“Shit, okay,” you exhale, fingers tightening on his waist. Your eyes leave the side of his face, locked on where your cock is steadily disappearing into him, and you press forward, bottoming out in one fell swoop. Leather meets his skin and the sounds he makes are none you’ve ever heard before. Deep, rumbling groans that come from the base of his stomach and force their way out of his throat. Tanned fingers grapple with your bedsheets, searching for an anchor as you drag your hips back and little and then feed your cock into him again.

You curse under your breath, unable to look away from how his hole gapes around the silicone, opening up for your every thrust.

“So fucking tight,” you whisper, awed as he ruts his ass back against you. Your fingers dig into his flesh, holding him open so you don’t miss a thing. “You look so good this, baby.”

Words are lost to him though, only able to form incoherent grunts and mumbles of your name as you deliver steady, deep strokes into his ass. It’s a slick glide now, almost no resistance left as you pump your cock into him.

“Talk to me,” you urge, sweat dribbling down your temples and smearing across your neck. “Wanna know how it feels.”

“Feels—” Joel chokes out, voice a thin, broken rasp. “A lot.”

“Yeah?”

“So fuckin full,” he says. “God, you’re so good, feels—fuck, feels so good.”

You moan a little, eyes glazing over as you pick up the pace, fucking him harder, hand between his shoulder blades as you press him flat against the mattress. And those rough noises he makes only urge you on, encouraging you to press a foot into the mattress at his side and push a little deeper until he’s gasping, thighs spasming below you.

“Shit,” you whimper, face screwing up as you watch his hand drift beneath his stomach. “I knew it, knew you’d love this.”  

You tug on his hips, pulling him back onto his knees so you can force his hand away and replace it with your own. Slick fingers wrap around his cock, the two of you cursing in unison at the way he pulses against your warm palm.

“Turn over for me.” Your fingers prod at the soft flesh around his hip as you pull out. You stare at the way his hole gapes open for a second, fluttering around the empty space where your cock has just been, and feel your cunt clench in response. “Please, I want to see your face.”

He lets you guide him, careful hands on his arms, his waist, until he lands on his back. A little unsure, his thighs fall apart so you can rest between them, and you give him a reassuring nod.

“That’s perfect,” you say, rubbing his thighs as you tilt them open wider, caressing his balls as you line yourself up with him again. “Doing so good for me, you’re perfect.”

And when you make contact, slipping in easily now, his stiff cock jolts and he lets out a ragged moan, reaching out for you.

Joel’s heavy hand lands on the base of your stomach, fingers twitching against the harness there.

“Wanna touch you,” he says, eyebrows pinched with need.

“I know, I know,” you murmur under your breath, smiling down at him. “Just let me take care of you, I wanna make you come like this, okay? Need to see it.”  

In response he just tucks his fingers around the top of the harness, holding on as you fuck into him, hot and heavy. Long, strong strokes that have his cock twitching against his stomach, pre-come dribbling from his tip as he just fucking takes and takes and takes.

“Keep talkin’ to me,” he pleads.

“You’re taking it so well,” you say, watching him keen under your praise. The skin on his chest glows with sweat and you lean forward to kiss his sternum. In response his fingers card through your hair, holding you to him as you mould your hips against his over and over.

“I love you.” You kiss the words into his skin, mouth falling open when he groans and starts raising his hips to meet yours, thrust for thrust. “So good for me, I love you, baby.”

“I love you,” he repeats, dazed and out of it when you pull back to look at his face again. You can tell he’s close; can see it in the twitch of his fingers, the shake of his thighs. “Shit.”  

And so you grip his knee with one hand and his cock with the other, pressing him open wider and stroking his length in time with your thrust. His eyes sharpen and he cries out. A harsh, high noise that makes your stomach tighten and your hair stand on end. And then he’s panting, telling you, fuck, right there, right fucking there, keep goin’.

His chest heaves below you, soft stomach moving fast and hard as you hold his knee to the side, griding your cock against that perfect little spot. Joel’s jaw pulls taut, veins thrumming in his neck as he holds his breath, seemingly fighting against the intensity of the feeling.

Your back aches, muscles on fire, but you push through, desperate to see the look on his face when he comes like this for the first time. And Joel must sense your determination, that burning need inside of you, because he locks eyes with you and nods.

“That’s it, baby,” he tells you. “Fuck me like I fuck you, that’s—shit, that’s perfect.”

Spurred on, your fingers tighten around the base of his cock and you slow your pace to a steady grind, rubbing the tip against where you know it feels best. He tells you as much, with the way his breathing starts to stutter and his nods become slow, lazy drags of his head.

“Fuck yeah,” he groans, eyelids fluttering half closed. “Gonna…. fuck, I’m gonna come, baby.”

You watch the muscles in his abdomen pull tight, feel his hand land on your waist, propelling you forward to keep fucking him as his high creeps up and up inside of him, until you say let go, I’ve got you, come for me, and it all falls apart.

Thick white spurts from his ruddy tip, slicking your knuckles and painting your tits in pearly streaks that drip down your stomach. Joel’s groaning, teeth bared as his eyes loll back. The veins in his neck deep blue and pulsing, face a dark crimson as he shakes beneath you. Some of his come even lands on his own chest, and you moan at the sight, still fucking into him, trying to prolong it for as long as possible. He bats your hand away, fingers tangling tight and desperate around yours, and you watch in awe as come continues to dribble from his untouched cock. Streams of white that roll down his shaft, past his taut balls to where you’ve still got him stuffed to the brim.

“Ohh,” you murmur in delight, admiring the way his come looks on your cock, streaks of white on blue as you fuck him. “Yeah, that’s it, baby. God, you look so good right now.”

It all gets a bit too much for him after that. Fingers squeezing at your thighs, mouth twisted up as he murmurs, that’s it, baby, that’s all I got, and you ease yourself out of him, despite knowing you could probably keep milking him for all he’s worth and he’d just moan and take it because he loves you.

Instead, you watch as Joel’s legs go limp against the mattress, hovering over him, trailing your fingers softly against his hairy calves, catching your breath.

“Holy shit,” he rasps, reaching up to rub a hand over his face. You laugh quietly and press a little kiss against his knee.

A sticky mix of come and lube dribbles from the tip of the cock, dotting against his skin, and you apologise softly, fingers coming up to start removing the harness. He just smiles, body spent but eyes soft and loving as he watches you fret. Rapt beneath the weight of his gaze, you pause, cheeks aching as you smile down at him.

“Good?” you ask hopefully.

“Great.”

Pride sweeps through you and your smile only grows as you finally remove the harness, peeling it from your legs and nudging it away. You reach for his hand and he grips it between both of his, bringing it up to his mouth to lay soft kisses against your palm, the tips of your fingers.

“I love you,” you tell him again, and the feeling swims in your guts and burns the inside of your chest. It’s all you can think as he presses your hand to his cheek and nuzzles against it – that this is all you could ever hope to have and to keep. This beautiful, loving man who you want to make feel this good for the rest of your lives. He repeats the words against your skin, drowsy and earnest, and you know he must be feeling the exact same way.

“Don’t move. Let me get you some water,” you whisper, shifting to get off the bed, but he catches your wrist as you pull back, shaking his head lazily. 

“Don’t go far,” Joel murmurs. “Just gotta catch my breath, alright? And then I’m gonna make you come so hard you’ll be seein’ stars.”

thank you for reading! x

[x0xomady]

But Daddy I love him !

(based on the song from TTPD)

part 2

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

warnings: smut, p in v, marijuana consumption, oral sex, pet names, 18+

(harrystyles!dealer x female reader) both are 18!

summary: senior year of high school y/n falls in love with the new plug at school.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

i HATE high school.

that might sound stereotypical like i’m one of those emo girls that hates everything, but i’m not. i just HATE high school.

for the first couple years everything was going great. freshman and sophomore year were so much fun. i had a big group of friends and i was pretty popular. i was even dating the cute skater boy! it was literally a teenage romcom like ’10 things i hate about you’.

however, that all went to shit.

the downfall of my teenage years first began when my asshole ex thought leaking my nudes to the entire junior class was a good idea. so naturally instead of standing up for me, my friends turned on me and said i was a slut.

after that traumatizing incident, i learned one thing. high school is temporary so why waste my time on bitchy friends?

that’s the attitude i had coming into senior year and it’s the one that’s kept me going for the last few months.

i stopped dressing preppy and popular because my “friends” wanted me too and i started dressing like i want to.

life is going fucking great now. i smoke weed, go to class, and binge watch gilmore girls. i don’t have to go to those god awful parties on the weekends, i can just relax.

the only way thing going bad for me right now was the fact that my dealer moved away. now i had to find a new one which isn’t hard, just annoying.

from what i’ve heard there’s 2 other dealers on campus. one is a freshman that steals shit from his dad and sells it. the other one is a random british guy that moved here last year.

i’m probably going to choose the new british guy.

so that was my goal for today. i’m going to find the new british guy in my class and buy weed so i don’t die during midterms week.

from what i’ve heard about this mystery british guy is his name is either harvey, harry, or harden. i’ve also heard he’s insanely hot and rejects all the girls that ask him out. although, if we’re being real here, most british guys are hot just because of their voices. so, i’m doubting he’ll be that hot. he’s probably going to have nasty ass teeth and be short.

walking down the halls of the school is kind of fun for me. i blast music in my headphones and pretend like i’m not in this hell hole. my outfit is casual and comfy so i’m honestly pretty confident right now.

as i walk into my first class i sit in my usual seat i see a new guy sitting next to me. i glance at him and can’t remember if i’ve ever seen him before. i don’t think i’ve ever seen him, but i can say for a fact that he is very, very, VERY attractive.

the new guy is sitting back against his chair, manspreading of course, with his headphones in. he’s wearing a black hoodie and dark blue jeans. he looks so casually perfect it’s slightly alarming.

i turn towards the front of the classroom as my teacher begins to drone on about different math equations. however, throughout the 50 minute class, my eyes kept wandering back over to the very attractive boy sitting next to me.

i TRIED to keep my thoughts off of him. i mean, i have completely sworn off dating and crushes for the rest of high school because of the last one that fucked me over.

my thoughts are cut off by the boy tapping me on the shoulder. my mind freezes and i turn towards him.

“yeah?” i try to act all nonchalant and mysterious but i said yeah WAY to quickly and excitedly.

the boy smiles slightly and leans over whispering to me. “do ya get a thing he's droning on about?”

oh fuck. the british accent.

“no i really don’t i'm completely zoned out right now.” i whisper back to the british boy.

he nods and leans back in his chair watching the teacher talk. he is sitting there with his knees casually spread and his arms crossed.

we sit there for another 10 minutes listening to the teacher talk about different functions until he announces.

“alright for the last 15 minutes of class go over the problems on the board with the person next to you.” the teacher points to the problems then sits at the desk so we can all work with our partners.

the boy smirks and turns his head back towards me. “ready to fail together?”

i can’t help the small smile that creeps onto my lips. i usually try to stay pretty unbothered and calm at school, but something about the way this curly headed boy was smiling at me made me a bit giddy.

AND he has weed, small plus.

“yeah lets do it” i nod and we start working on the equations together. he scoots closer to me and rests his head propped up on his arm while i start writing things down.

he watches me write for a second before speaking up. “y’have pretty handwriting.”

i look at him a bit surprised but smile a little bit. blush slowly creeps up on my cheeks as he compliments me. “really? never heard that before.” i shrug.

“yeah never seen someone write their three’s with a curl before. it’s adorable.” he smirks and looks up at me for a second before looking back down at my writing.

i’m about to speak up again but the teacher cuts me off. “if you haven’t finished the problems yet, do them tonight and turn them in tomorrow morning.”

he looks over at me with a smile, “we still have quite a few questions left."

“yeah this is going to take a while.” i sigh looking down at the 32 questions we have to work on.

he turns his body towards me more and props his arm up against the back of the chair next to me. “where do you eat lunch?”

i shrug. “probably in the library today because i have a fuck ton of work to catch up on.”

“hm okay. mind if i join you? we could finish the work then.” he has a small smile on his face while i sit there looking flustered as ever.

“oh yeah sure.” i nod and smile a little bit. “i’ll just be on the couches in the back. come find me.” he nods and we both exit the classroom.

holy shit. THAT was the guy i’m supposed to buy from? i’m going to be needing a LOT more weed than i thought.

throughout all of the drama that went down junior year, i have had one friend remain loyal to me. y/bsf/n and i have been friends since freshman year of high school and have stayed close ever since.

as soon as i walked out of math i rushed to find her. naturally, i found her touching up her makeup in the girls bathroom.

“GUESS WHAT?” i squeal as i burst into the girls bathroom.

she immediately drops her mascara and whips around to face me. “WHAT WHAT”

i smile and grab her shoulders. “I’M EATING LUNCH WITH THE HOT BRITISH PLUG”

y/bsf/n face drops and she squeals excitedly. “OMG I SAW HIM THIS MORNING HE IS SO- ”

“can you guys shut up? i’m trying to wash my hands” a random girl glares at us.

“um no? can you go wash your shit covered hands then leave?” she snaps back at her. the girl rolls her eyes and walks out of the bathroom.

i’m too excited to even care. we stand there for the next couple minutes before class starts talking about what i’m going to do and how to talk to him.

another girl walks up to the mirrors and suddenly turns to us with an “i’ve got gossip” look. “you know i heard he only wears long sleeved hoodies and shirts to school because he’s a heroin addict that’s covering track marks.”

both y/bsf/n and i roll our eyes and shake our head. “that’s a dumbass rumor don’t spread shit like that.” i glare at her.

the girl rolls her eyes and shrugs. “might be true.”

“wait wait pause.” my face drops as i look at y/bsf/n.

“what?”

“i don't even know his name. the only thing i know is that it starts with an H” my eyes widen in the realization that i didn’t even introduce myself in class today.

“uhhh i think it’s harvey? i’m like 80% sure.” she shrugs and continues doing her makeup in the mirror as i stand there freaking out.

“harvey?! like steve harvey? theres no way thats his name.” i roll my eyes.

“whatever, just ask him! oooh maybe if you guys hookup he’ll give you free weed!” she smirks at me.

“NO i’m not using him for free stuff. that is so fucked up.”

she rolls her eyes and applies her lipgloss. “fine fine. be all moral if you want.” the bell rings and the both of us leave the bathroom. i head towards my english class with the elated feeling of what’s to come.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

by the time lunch rolls around i’m feeling giddy as ever. y/bsf/n had been hyping me up for the last four periods which wasn’t helping my excitement die down at all.

i walk into the library building and walk to the back where my usual lunch study couch is. i set my tote bag and lap top down and get comfy waiting for “H” to show up. if his name is actually harvey theres no way in hell i’ll be able to take him seriously.

after about five minutes he walks over and plops down on the couch next to me. “ready?”

“yeah lets finish this shit.” i nod and pull out my work while he grabs his. “so can i ask your name? i totally forgot to ask this morning.”

he pauses and turns to me with a smirk. “wait you don’t know my name?”

my eyes widen and i try to play it off. “uh… no how would i know your name?”

he instantly starts laughing and covers his mouth. “really? we’ve been in the same math class for 5 months!”

i stare at him in shock and guilt for a second before snapping out of it and smiling. “i’m sorry. i’m pretty zoned out or high during math.”

“yeah i got that.” he smirks and looks at me. “i even know your name y/n”

i feel blush start to creep up my cheeks as i hear my name drop from his lips. is it from embarrassment or being flustered? we’ll never know, but it’s probably a mix. he knows my name? fuck.

“oh i’m so sorry.” i meet his eyes with a nervous and embarrassed look.

“no you’re good. this is only the second time we’ve ever interacted so i understand.” he still has a smug smile on his face. “well my name’s harry.”

“ohh harry? my friend told me something completely different.” i smile. thank GOD i didn’t call him harvey. i would’ve died from the humiliation if that slipped out.

harry smirks and looks back over at me. “wow already talking about me to your friends? good to know i make an impression.”

my face heats up at his teasing words, but i try to play it off. “well it’s not often a british guy sits next to me in math.”

“yeah i guess thats true.” harry nods and leans back against the couch. “i’ve always known who you were. which might sound creepy but i promise it’s not.”

“really?” how would he know who i am? besides math we don’t have anything together. we don’t even run in the same friend group.

“yeah you’re like the hot girl that got trashed by her friends right?”

i roll my eyes. “yeah thats me. i’m guessing you saw my nudes.”

harry frowns and shrugs. “i didn’t look at them myself but i heard descriptions. i’m not a pervert i wouldn’t look at some random girls nudes.”

“okay thank you but, oh my gosh hearing about it is 10x worse!” i groan in embarrassment.

“hey, it’s not your fault. that ex and those “friends” of yours were total assholes for doing that to you.” harry gives me a sympathetic look before returning to the math problems.

“wait. if you’ve been in my class this whole time how have i not seen you before today?” the realization hits me that i’ve never even seen harry in class before. i would’ve remembered if i had, he’s not a face you would forget seeing.

harry shrugs. “i usually sit in the back on the other side of the classroom.”

“oh. so then why did you sit next to me in the front today?” i look at harry slightly confused.

“because you’re pretty.” he smirks at me.

my eyes widen and i blush a little. “oh thank you.”

for the next 30 minutes we talk mindlessly back and forth while working on our homework together. as lunch time comes to a close i remember why i was originally seeking out harry.

“hey i totally forgot to ask, but are you selling?”

harry puts down his notebook and crosses his arms looking at me with a small smile. “hm depends what you’re trying to buy.”

i roll my eyes and give him a look. “i think you know what i’m trying to buy.” harry chuckles quietly and continues teasing me.

“wow what is an innocent girl like you doing trying to buy pot?” he looks absolutely gorgeous like this. he’s leaning back comfortable with his arms crossed. those emerald green eyes search my face with an amused grin. “i think you’re daddy would be disappointed if he knew.”

“oh whatever.” i try to act annoyed but the way he is looking at me right now is intoxicating. “so you have it? because if you don’t i’m going to have to go to that weird ass freshman.”

harry laughs and rests his head agains the back of the couch. “of course i have something for you y/n. except i don’t sell at school so if you want something you’ll have to come over later.”

oh. OH go to his house? don’t have to ask me twice.

“yeah for sure.” i nod at him and play it off with a smile like i’m not internally squealing with joy.

harry pulls out his phone and holds it out for me to take. “put your number in and i’ll text you my address.”

my heart beat speeds up as i take the phone from him carefully. i quickly type in my number and create a contact with my name as, ‘y/n 💞’

a bright smile appears on his face when he sees my contact in his phone. harry glances back up at me and says, “god you’re so cute.”

i blush brightly and feel extremely flustered but i ignore it and nod. “text me your address and i’ll come over after school.”

harry smiles and nods. “alright.” he quickly types something into his phone. i hear a ding from my phone and see a text message from an unknown number. harry’s address is written so i quickly set the contact to ‘harry 🍃’

“cool see ya later y/n” harry nods at me and exists the library.

“bye” i sit there in shock of everything that just happened. he called me cute AND pretty? tonight is going to be un-fucking-real.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

the first thought that comes to every girls mind when they are invited over to a guys house is, their outfit. so that’s where i am now. running around my room throwing shit around trying to find a cute outfit.

y/bsf/n was sitting on my bed telling me different things. “okay don’t wear a skirt that’s trying WAY too hard.”

“i know!” i groan and drop all my skirts on the ground before scrambling back to my closet.

“y/n look. the more you try the more shallow you’re going to come off. so just wear jeans and a cute top.” she shrugs and throws me a pair of my low rise jeans.

“yeah yeah you’re right.” i sigh and put the jeans on with a cute top, and my outfit is ready to go.

“ugh SO cute honey. you’re gonna wipe that sexy ass off his feet.” she claps happily and smiles.

i roll my eyes but smile. “okay whatever i have to go.” i kiss her cheek than head towards the door.

“yay go get high and laid bitch!” she giggles as i leave my bedroom.

harry’s house is a 15 minute drive from mine so i had to leave now if i was going to make it. i hate to admit it, but the gnawing feeling of anxiety and nervousness was finally hitting me.

usually when i’m over at guys houses, it’s very chill and i’m not worried because theres no reason to be. however, this time i’m actually nervous because i’m actually into the guy i’m seeing.

sure we only met officially today, but he’s hot, nice, and he has weed. what’s not to love?

as i drive up to harry’s house and see a decently sized house with a couple cars parked outside. i park on the street and touchup my makeup before walking up to the front door.

before i can chicken out and run away i ring the doorbell.

after a few seconds i hear someone run down the stairs and open the door. there, looking hot as ever, is harry. he’s wearing a white wife-beater tank top, and of course, the heavenly gray sweatpants.

it takes every ounce of self control in my body not to check him out.

“oh hey y/n. come in.” harry smiles at me and opens the door so i can enter his house. i step inside and see the typical suburban house. it’s very clean and there’s voices coming from the kitchen.

“thanks for letting me come over” i look up at harry as he is closing the door behind me.

“yeah for sure. cmon let’s go upstairs you don’t want to meet my parents.” he smirks and nods towards the staircase.

“okay” i nod and follow him up the staircase towards his room. it’s always fun going to other people’s houses and seeing little glimpses of what they’re day-to-day life is really like. it’s easy to put on a persona at school and hide yourself, but at your own home it’s impossible.

harry’s house is extremely nice. his parents have to be doctors or something because this is definitely upper middle class. there are pictures across the walls, awards for each person in the family, and paintings. It looks like harry has a sister… cute.

“that’s pretty.” i say pointing towards the large pairing hung in the middle of the wall. the painting really is beautiful. it was a picture of what looked like the New York skyline at sunset.

harry turns around and looks at the painting and then me. “oh yeah. my mom made that.”

“really? she's talented” i smile and continue following him down the hallway towards his room.

“hm yeah she’s an artist. we have a fuck ton of paintings around the house.” harry shrugs and opens the door to his room with me trailing behind him. “anyways… this is my room. just sit anywhere while i grab my shit.”

i nod and plop down onto the beanbag chair next to his desk. harry hums quietly as he goes over to his drawers and starts rummaging through them. harry’s room is decorated completely with posters, a guitar hung on the wall, and pictures pinned up.

i couldn’t help but admire him for a minute. it really was surprising to me how attractive this man was. theres cute guys, and then theres hot guys… like harry.

he continues looking through his drawers for a minute before pulling out a small paper baggie. i watch him put a couple things into it and then walk over to me.

i take the bag from harry gratefully and look up at him. “how much do i owe you?” i ask while pulling out my wallet.

harry shakes his head and sits down on his bed. “how about you smoke a joint with me and we’ll call it even?”

“really? that sounds like a win-win for me and a lose-lose for you. it’s fine harry i can pay.” i protest while opening my wallet and looking at him expectantly.

“mm nope. sounds like a win-win to me. i get to supply you so you don’t go to that weirdass freshman and i get to smoke with the pretty girl from my math class." he smirks and pulls out a joint shaking it between his fingers teasingly at me. “it’s alright y/n first times on me.” i roll my eyes but sense that he’s not going to give in and let me pay him.

“fine, fine, but next time i’m paying okay?” i never felt good about taking things for free. it made me feel like i owed a large debt to them in the future.

“sure whatever you say, love.” harry shrugs and pulls out his lighter and then pats the spot on the bed next to him. “now get up here with me so you can pay up.”

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ 2 hours later ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

how did i end up straddling harry’s lap? good question! i have no fucking idea.

it started out chill. we were passing the joint back and forth while having a casual conversation. we talked about the bitches at our school, our summer plans, blah blah blah.

it was all going great and chill until harry decided to switch things up. maybe it was the fact that we are both baked, maybe it’s that we’ve had a weird sexual tension since this morning, but it switched up so fast.

it first started when harry made a comment about my lipgloss.

“hm i’ve never had strawberry pot before.” harry smirks and hands the joint back to me. i look at harry confused for a second trying to figure out what he meant.

“what do you mean?”

“i mean… you’re pretty pink lipgloss is getting all over it and it’s making it taste sweet.” he has the most smug look on his face as he leans back against the headboard of his bed.

i roll my eyes as harry teases me about my lipgloss. “quit acting like you don’t like it.”

“i never said i didn’t like it! i was just saying, i think i have some lipgloss on too.” he chuckles and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. there was, in fact, lipgloss. oops.

i’m too high to even care so i just start giggling at harry’s fake angry expression. my giggling pulls a small smile onto harry’s lips.

“hey! i’m just trying to be a good friend here. you need to moisturize your lips regularly curly.” i erupt into a fit of giggles as harry simply smirks and takes another drag.

“oh you’re such a good girl trying to keep my lips moisturized.” harry rolls his eyes sarcastically and hands me the joint. i take it him from him and take another hit letting the smoke fill my lungs before turning back to harry.

“seriously harry, i’m a great friend. girls won’t kiss you if you have crusty ass lips.” i try to say that with a serious and straight face but i instantly burst out laughing again.

“wow what would i do without you?” he chuckles and takes the joint from me. “you know now that i’ve tasted your lipgloss… i kind of want to taste those pretty little lips of yours.” harry grins and taps his index finger agains my lips lightly.

i smile and shift so i’m sitting on harry’s lap straddling his hips. “that’s fine with me.”

harry puts the joint down on the ashtray next to his bed and rests his hands on my hips. “really that’s okay with you?”

“mhm” i nod and bring my hands up to play with his curls. harry’s green eyes search mine for a second before placing his hand on my cheek. he hums and traces his thumb carefully across my bottom lip.

“such a pretty thing hm.” he smirks and leans his head forward nudging my nose with his. i smile and play with his curls.

“so… can i have a kiss petal?” harry cups my cheek and leans in. without hesitation i lean in and connect our lips. harry sighs against me and holds my head close to him.

i wrap my arms around his neck and deepen the kiss opening my lips to him. harry bites my bottom lip and pulls away for a second. i smile and look at him. “you’re a good kisser”

harry hums softly and kisses me on the jaw making me blush slightly. his hands grip my hips lightly has his kisses make their way down my neck.

“so fucking pretty, you know that? i’m obsessed with you” harry mumbles against my neck. “how did i not ask you over sooner?”

i smile and shift my hips so i’m sitting closer against him, a light blush painting my cheeks. “you should’ve. i would have said yes.”

“hm that right? i’ll keep it in mind.” he smirks and pulls my hips against him. his kisses continue to travel down my neck before stopping at my collar bone.

“lay down for me y/n” he says while kissing my neck.

i roll off harry’s lap onto my back onto his bed. he smiles and crawls over me. he props his arms up on either side of my head. harry looks so hot above me.

“can i taste you petal?” his bright green eyes turn dark filled with lust as he looked at me desperately. i nod eagerly and press my lips against him once more.

“please harry, need you.” i let out a soft moan as harry nips at my neck and travels down my body until he’s between my legs.

“gonna let me see you y/n?” he asks before pulling down my jeans and tossing them off the bed. i nod and watch as harry smirks up at me. his eyes travel down from my eyes to my core.

“so fucking pretty i swear.” he hums and presses a kiss against my clothes center. i moan quietly as his lips travel down my panties before pushing them to the side.

he pulls my panties to the side and lets out a groan as he presses a sweet kiss to my clit. i gasp and hold harry’s hair tightly.

“you taste so sweet baby.” he hums against my clit, sending vibrations up my body. i tug harry’s hair to escape the delicious torture but he just smiles up at me and continues kissing me. his thick ring clad hands holding my hips against his face.

“please harry- ” i whine and press my hips up against him. he sticks his tongue out flat and runs it up my pussy while keeping eye contact with me.

he pulls away for a second and grabs the joint for a second. his lips wrap around it taking a deep hit while watching me sit there impatiently. he smirks and pulls the joint from his lips pushing it between mine. “hold that for me petal.”

i take the joint willingly and take a hit while harry reconnects his lips with my core. i let out a groan as harry sucks my clit between his lips just as he did with the joint.

my body is racked with pleasure as harry hungrily sucks on my bundle of nerves. my hand holds his curls tightly as he eats me like a starved man.

“fuck harry!” i gasp as harry pushes his middle finger into my tight hole. he continues lapping at my clit while pumping his finger into me. the ring resting at the bottom of his finger left a cool sensation run through my body.

“how are you so bloody wet?” he moans against my core while adding a second finger to the mix. my pussy clenches against him greedily as the sensations filled my heat.

harry moves his fingers faster while wrapping his lips around my clit once more. my hips buck up against him searching for the last bit of stimulation needed before i could let go.

“fuck m’gonna cum harry!” i gasp as he speeds up.

“that’s it pretty girl. let go for me, i wanna taste your sweet mess.” he smirks up at me and adds a third finger. this pushes me over the edge, my body consumed with pleasure. harry helps me ride out my orgasm by lapping at my core gently.

he crawls up my body and hovers over me. “i need to feel you baby. is that okay?” he whispers as he presses kisses to my neck.

i nod and wrap my legs around his hips, pressing my core to the front of his sweats. “please harry.”

harry groans and pushes his bulge against me for some relief. “okay petal. gonna fuck you.” he quickly tugs his sweatpants down and kisses my neck. “ready baby?”

i nod eagerly watching him. he sighs and carefully pushes past my tight entrance. my body eagerly welcomes him as i hold onto harrys shoulders tightly for support.

“oh fuck harry!” i groan as he pushes in all the way. he’s much thicker and longer than i thought he would be. my walls tighten against him tightly as he pushes to the hilt.

“so tight and wet for me.” he sighs and pulls back so it’s just the tip left in. harry moves his hand from my wait to my stomach so it’s resting just below my belly button.

as he pushes back into my cunt his large palm presses down on my stomach. at this angle i’m able to feel all of the veins and ridges decorating his cock. a loud whine slips past my lips as harry continues fucking into me.

he quickly brings a hand to hold over my mouth while the other continues to press down on my stomach. “shh i love hearing your sweet moans baby, but we can’t let my parents here.”

he picks up the pace, and the only sounds heard are the obscene squelching coming from where harry is fucking into me. he changes his angle a little bit and my body instantly floods with pleasure as i gasp.

“there it is.” he smirks and continues pounding into me at that angle. the tip of his cock perfectly hitting my spot as i moan into his hand.

harry moved his hand away from my mouth and brings it down to play with my abused clit. he groans as i clench around him and he picks up the pace.

“so- fucking- tight” he groans and pushes his face into my neck to muffle his moans. his hips continue to snap up into my mine while his fingers move quickly against my bundle of nerves.

i’m so overstimulated from the orgasm before this, so it doesn’t take long for my second to build up. “harry!” i whine as his hips move against mine furiously.

“yeah? gonna cum again for me? that’s good baby, m’gonna cum for you.” he moans against my neck and keeps his quick pace up.

my walls clench around his thick cock tightly as my body finally releases. i bite down onto harry’s shoulder gently to muffle my moans. harry groans out and thrusts a few more times sloppily before letting his release paint my walls.

we both ride out our orgasms slowly for a couple minutes. before harry pulls away shakily and speaks. “we’re doing that again”

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

2 months have past since harry and i first got together. it’s an understatement to say we enjoy each others company. as y/bsf/n said, we’re “fucking like bunnies”

if we weren’t at harry’s house, i was sneaking harry in through my window. luckily, harry’s parents were very chill and always let me come over. i’d really grown to like his mom, sister, and dad. my parents however, had NO knowledge of harry. if they did, i’d be dead.

harry and i are currently cuddled up in my bed at 1am. i always had to wait until my mom and dad are asleep before letting harry in through my window.

so, here we are now, wrapped up in each other whispering about dumb things.

“ugh anyways i hate her bitchass.” im currently complaining to harry about a girl in our class that’s being an ass to me.

“me too.” harry whispers back. his arms wrapped around my waist so im pulled against him. his tight embrace comforts me like nothing else. i can almost forget all the shit i endure at school when i’m with him.

“you don’t even know her.” i giggle as harry presses kisses to my jaw.

“doesn’t matter. i hate anyone who fucks with my girl.”

i roll my eyes and smile at harry’s cheesy comments. he pulls me closer and kisses the top of my head. i cuddle into his chest as he starts talking about other things.

“i’m so obsessed with you baby.” he whispers against my neck making goosebumps travel down my spine.

“i’m obsessed with you too.” i grin and kiss a sweet kiss to harry’s cheek. in all honesty it is much more than that. i can feel it, im very quickly falling in love with harry.

“good, because you’re mine now.” he whispers and kisses my neck.

it was WAY too soon to tell harry i loved him. i mean for fucks sakes, i’ve only known him for a few months. he is just one of the few teenage boys that has ever been truly kind to me.

harry and i continue talking about mindless things. both of us are too wrapped up in each other to realize how late it is.

“WHAT THE FUCK?”

my door is burst open as light pours into the room. i immediately sit up and panic fills my body. my dad and mom stand there looking furious as the see harry sitting there next to me.

“i- uh” i don’t even know what to say in this situation. my parents are NOT easy going people. this is quite possibly, the worst case scenario.

“who the fuck is he?” my mom yells as he sees harry sitting up. my dad is completely dead silent which is even scarier to me.

“i-im sorry- this is harry.” i say quietly.

“harry? oh so you’re bringing random guys into your room?” my mom yells loudly.

“no mom! this isn’t a random guy! this is harry, my boyfriend.” i quickly stand up and stand between my parents and harry. i give harry a look saying ‘don’t talk’

“YOUR BOYFRIEND?” she looks absolutely furious screaming her head off at me. my dad is completely silent and just glaring at me and harry.

“i’m sorry okay? we’ve been together for two months and we really like each other.” my eyes are begging my mom to stop yelling in front of harry.

instead, my dad steps in. “how could you bring a boy into your room? let alone be sleeping in the same bed as him!”

“i’m so sorry. i just really like him and wanted to spend time with him!” harry is quietly watching, not interfering with our argument.

“NO! you cannot see this boy anymore! get him out of my house!” my dad yells and points at harry.

“w-what? daddy please no!” i beg him.

“no! you went behind our backs and brought a boy in our house!”

“that’s because i knew you wouldn’t let me see him! please don’t do this!”

“yeah you’re damn right i wouldn’t let you see him. i don’t want my daughter getting knocked up at 18! you’re not even out of high school yet!”

my eyes prick with tears as i desperately try to defend harry. without thinking, the words slip out.

“but daddy i love him!”

everyone freezes. i feel guilt and embarrassment flood my body as the words spill from my lips. my moms mouth drops as she looks between harry and i. my dads angry face dissapears as he looks at me in disbelief. harry is sitting there with a small smile on his face.

“you what?” my dad looks at me with utter disbelief.

“i- i-,” i hesitate and glance at harry. he looks overjoyed at my words despite the situation. “i love him…”

“you love this kid? why? you’re a teenager y/n! you don’t know shit about love!” my dad says firmly.

fuck it

“yes i do dad! i know that harry makes me 10x happier than anyone else on the planet! i feel so completely happy when we’re together! that’s why i brought him over tonight. i was having a shitty day at school and needed to feel happy for once.”

i let out all my emotions to my parents telling them how much i love harry. “you can’t make me stay away from him! i love him!”

my parents look shocked at everything i say to them. they turn to each other and whisper quietly. i stand there unsure as they talk. harry remains silent as he stares at me with a small smile.

“okay y/n… maybe we’re a bit too strict with you” my mom says quietly. “you’re 18 you can have a boyfriend.”

“r-really?” this was coming from the same woman that wouldn’t even let me have a boys number in my phone until i was 16.

“yes. you deserve to be happy. we’re just looking out for you honey. we don’t want you to make a mistake and end up pregnant at 18.”

i nod and look at them with eyes full of gratefulness. “so i can have harry over to the house now?”

my dad sighs and rubs his forehead before nodding. “just no sex under my roof, okay? i don’t want a grandchild yet.” he glares at harry.

harry nods and finally speaks up. “of course sir. i care for y/n a lot. she’s an amazing person and i plan on taking care of her.”

he looks at my mom and then back to me and harry. “fine. but no more sneaking through the window, got it?” he looks at me sternly.

“yeah of course!” i grin and hug my dad tightly. “thank you.”

“okay y/n… walk him out for the night. we’ll continue this conversation later.”

i nod and pull away. my parents exit the room and head towards their bedroom. i turn back to harry and smile.

harry smiles back and gives me a peck on the forehead.

“i love you too petal.”

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

hope you loved this! i definitely plan on writing more for this story.

(i was a lil high when i wrote this so ignore the bad parts hehe)

- xoxo

[guardarecheluna]

You know, i’ve been your baby since the day that we met. (CEO!H)

Words: 8k

Warnings: Pathetic Fluff, Smut (Praise, P in V, Oral, slight daddy kink)

Summary: Harry is bewitched by her, and he would do absolutely anything to make her happy, even though she sometimes doesn’t want him to.

READ THE FIRST CEO ONE SHOT HERE!

A/N: Hellooo my loves! It's been a little while, but now i'm here with a lil CEO update since you all seemed to enjoy him last time. Please let me know what you think of it, it always makes my day to hear from you!

elle x

It was almost like Harry couldn’t remember a life before her. She had filled the bottomless hole in his heart with her warmth, humour, cleverness and love like it was the most simple thing in the world. Harry had never been so happy.

It’s been just 5 months since that night in Harry’s lounge, where his clammy hands were shaking, searching for hers. Where he bared his heart before her, and hoped, hoped that she’d at least tell him she didn’t hate him. Y/N could never hate Harry. Sometimes, when she comes to think about it, she feels absolutely crazy when it comes to him. Like she can’t believe that he is hers. Like maybe she was made just for him. Like maybe they were meant to meet when she started working for Pleasing.

Harry had kept telling her how hard he fell, that he felt like he was jumping from a plane without a parachute, blindly falling and hoping to be caught in his lover’s arms. Harry fell hard, but Y/N fell first.

Y/N’s interview had went better than she ever could’ve expected. It was just the day before that she was asked to Pleasing’s office to do an interview for a position as a senior creative. She left the interview happy and pleased with herself, but honestly?

She couldn’t tell if it was because she had actually done well for the interview, or if it was the Harry-shaped opening in her heart that was slowly cracking her open. The tall brunette had been so kind to her throughout the interview, even offering her a coffee beforehand.

As her first day a Pleasing came and went, Y/N tried to gather up her things from her new office to head home. It had been a wild day, introductions to new people, online courses to help her with their IT systems and endless and absolutely endless pining for her new boss. She could swear that she had never met anyone like him, and especially not a CEO who acted like he did with his colleagues. Harry had this softness to him, almost feminine at times, but with a strong masculine cologne, broad shoulders and deep, gravely voice. He emitted a light and kindness that was difficult to describe if you hadn’t met him. He was like a magnet.

Y/N was sure that if you were to google the definition of kindness, a picture of Harry Styles would pop up on the first page. Don’t quote her on that, though.

Harry had checked on her multiple times during the day, taken her and a few other colleagues out for lunch as a “celebration” he said. He really didn’t act like any other CEO she had met.

“Hey, are you still here? Thought your day ended at five, you must be exhausted.” Harry was doing a final round in the offices. Y/N was the last one left, just wanting to land back on her feet and feel her surroundings after a long first day. She thought she’d be the last one out, but Harry was there as well. Of course he was. Y/N snapped her head up, looking at him. He had almost scared her with his quiet steps into her office space. “Jesus, Harry, you scared me!” Y/N scrunched her eyes shut, putting her hand over her pumping heart. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I couldn’t resist, I didn’t mean to scare ye’ though.” Harry said with a smirk. Y/N raised her eyebrow at him. “Didn’t mean to, huh? Don’t believe it for a second.” She said, throwing him a suspicious look, but with a smile; she just couldn’t help it. Harry chuckled. “You’ll just have to believe that I’m a kind enough person to not scare away the new employee on the first day, I don’t know what to tell you.” Harry hit back, slight ironic cockiness in his voice.

Y/N just smiled and continued packing up her laptop and the pamphlets she’d gotten from HR, along with a few papers that needed to be signed.

Y/N almost couldn’t look at him without having butterflies erupting in her stomach. Call her stupid, insane, mentally weak, but she could feel a serious crush coming on. Scratch that, it isn’t coming on, it’s already there, burning in her belly and begging to seen and heard.

Or another time, around a month into working for Pleasing when Y/N had knocked on Harry’s office door, almost in tears.

Maybe it sounded dramatic, but getting used to a new workplace, new routines and IT systems; Y/N would find herself frustrated and she hated bothering her colleagues with her questions every 5 minutes.

Y/N knocked on the glass door, her jaw strained and aching with how much she was trying to keep it together.

Harry opened the door, stepping aside. “Hey there, darling. You alright?” He said as he nodded his head to give her a cue to step inside.

He looked so good that day, in one of pristine, ironed suits. The first few buttons were undone, and a fine dusting of hair was peeking out of the shirt as well as the tattoos on his chest that Y/N hadn’t gotten to see the full version of. His lips were chapped, like he had picked on the skin in his anxious thoughts. Y/N swallowed harshly, stepping inside and plopping down on the sofa in his office. “I need your help.” She just said, looking up at him, holding on to her frustrated tears.

Harry could tell she wasn’t her chirpy, flirty and smug self, his heart suddenly feeling gooey and yelling at him to sit down and embrace her.

“Anything, I’m glad you came. What do you need, pet?” Harry said as he closed the door and sat opposite her on another sofa. He was leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees.

“I just…I feel frustrated because there’s so many things I don’t have the hang of yet and I hate being a bother to everyone and asking questions all the time. It’s either that I don’t fucking get it or it’s because there’s suddenly new things and I can’t seem to keep up.” She said, her eyes stuck on the cushions Harry was sitting on, afraid that she’d break if she looked right at him.

Harry was quiet for a good while, anxiety washing over Y/N when he wouldn’t answer. She braced herself for some kind of lashing out. She knew he wasn’t like any other boss, but maybe coming to him with this was a mistake, a showcasing of her weakness that would be the end of her time at Pleasing.

“Sorry…I-“ She started before Harry spoke up.

“Darling, don’t ever apologise. You need to go easy on yourself, you’ve been here for just a month and there’s a lot to learn, you don’t have to do everything at once, that’s impossible. I’m really glad you came to me, of course I’ll help you with anything I can.” Harry said softly. Y/N relaxed into her seat, feeling almost dumb for thinking he’d lash out at her. She nodded, finally looking up at him, to find him searching her eyes and smiling kindly. “Thank you, H, I just, I know it’s a competitive business, and I don’t want to ever let you down just because I can’t figure out fucking excel.” She chuckled.

Harry laughed and shook his head. “As if you could ever let me down.” He said under his breath, almost like she wasn’t meant to hear it. “Let’s get to it, then, come sit down next t’me and pull out your laptop.”

Harry had arranged a small get away weekend for the two of them. Coming up on almost 6 months, they were yet to go on a trip together, and Harry wanted nothing more than some quality time with his girl. His girl.

He had spent two weeks trying to plan everything down to the food they were going to cook, to what activities they could do to keep them occupied.

Harry had booked them a cabin in the woods, by a small lake. It was around a three-hour drive from London, which was perfect for going away for a weekend.

A weekend where it would be just the two of them, no distractions of phones or other people, just them. Harry was so excited, struggling to keep it a secret when all he wanted was to spill all the details and spoil Y/N with insight into all his plans, but he kept his mouth shut.

They had already agreed to spend the weekend together at Harry’s, so naturally, they’d drive home together after work on Friday. Harry was driving, one hand on the wheel, and the other finding Y/N’s over the centre consol. Fingers lightly tracing knuckles and palms while Harry had their playlist on in the background.

Y/N sat up slightly and her eyebrows furrowed when she realized that they were going towards her apartment instead, and not his.

“I thought we were staying at yours this weekend?”

Harry laughed, the plan in his head was turning out just the way he wanted it to. He parked the car outside of her building. “Get out with me.” He said, meeting her when he rounded the car. His hands reached out and gripped her jaw, placing a few small pecks on her pink lips. Confusion was still prominent on her face. “We’re going to go upstairs, and you’re going to pack a bag for a weekend away. I didn’t want to say anything, ‘cause I wanted it to be a surprise.” He smiled. Y/N melted into his touch. “Are you serious, where are we going?” Her eyes lit up with excitement at his words. “Not telling you yet, you’ll find out.” She shook her head at his words.

“You’re so sneaky. And here I was thinking that you couldn’t keep a secret if your life depended on it.” Y/N teased as she turned on her heel towards her apartment to pack a weekend bag.

The pair had stopped early in their trip to get some snacks at a gas station, just something to keep them awake after a long day at the office. Y/N had taken off her shoes and cozied up in the passenger seat, manipulating her seatbelt so that her back was leaning against the car door. Her feet was propped up on the centre consol as she observed Harry from her seat. Every little hair on his head, his eyes on the road that sometimes glanced over at her, a smile spreading on his face when he caught her looking at him. One of his hands reached for her, hand spreading out over her knee and squeezing it slightly. “What’s on your mind, pet?” Y/N tilted her head. “Like you don’t know.” She laughed and leant back against the door. “Just thinking about how the hell I landed you.” She continued, a slight blush creeping onto her cheeks with the words, but still confident. Harry sighed. “You’ve got it all backwards, I’m afraid. You’re so out of my league it’s insane, I’m surprised I didn’t have to beg on my knees for you to date me.” He replied to her, once again squeezing her knee. “Well, let’s be real, you kind of did.” Y/N said as a comeback, clearly remembering the anxious, thinly spread Harry that night almost 6 months ago. “Alright, that’s enough or I’ll drop you off on the side of the road.” Harry replied, faking a threat as he felt the embarrassment of that evening come over him. “You wouldn’t, think you love me a little too much to leave on the side of the road.” She continued to tease.

Of course she was right.

“Harry. Is this all for us, have you gone completely insane?” Y/N looked at him without a hint of amusement behind her eyes as she stepped out of the car to look at the so called “cabin” that Harry had rented out. Thing is, it wasn’t just a cabin. It was a huge, sprawling estate, hidden away from neighbours and curious gazes. It had to have cost him thousands of punds just for a weekend getaway, and even though Y/N appreciated his act of love, they had had this conversation before; the one about money.

Y/N didn’t grow up with wealth, and neither did Harry. But as the years had passed, Harry had gotten ridiculously rich. No prize on either cars or estates phased him, he barely looked at the cost of things, which Y/N had thought was completely insane, even though she didn’t exactly know the extent of his wealth.

The first argument about money that they had, was early on in their relationship, just a month after they’d become official.

It had been Y/N’s birthday.

They were newly in love. It had been a month. They spent all their awake time together, at work, at home, in bed and weekends. Their hearts were blooming, still with that wondrous love in their hearts each time they looked at each other. Everything was easy, bright and happy.

Y/N’s birthday was coming up, and since she didn’t want to make a big deal of it, she had told Harry that they’d spend it with some of their friends. She had also warned him, to not get her anything as a gift. Y/N wasn’t really aware of what the code was when it’s your partners birthday, but you’re a new couple, so to avoid any awkward feelings, she straight up told him not to get her anything.

Harry wasn’t like that though. He knew her birthday was coming up long before she’d warned him. It might’ve even been one of the first things he’d memorized about her after she left her initial interview at Pleasing. His nosey ass couldn’t keep his nose out of her application papers that was clearly stating her date of birth and age.

He had been a little bit taken aback when Y/N told him not to get her anything, because he had already gotten her something. Something that, in his eyes it wasn’t a big present of any sort, just an appreciation for his girlfriend that he loved more than the number of stars in the sky.

“Can I just get you something small? Please, I know you don’t want anything, but it doesn’t feel right, I just want to celebrate you, you deserve it.” Harry had mentioned over the breakfast they were sharing. Y/N shook her head at him adoringly. “Does it really mean that much to you? A get together with you and my friends is more than enough for me.” Y/N reached out over the table and entwined her fingers through his. He was warm.

“It does, I like giving gifts, and it can be something small, I just want to get you something. If you really don’t want to I won’t but I can’t lie and say it won’t break my heart a little.” He admitted to her. So, she agreed. It was just something small, and she found his urge to care for her so badly very sweet.

And Harry didn’t necessarily lie, the gift was indeed small, but it was expensive. Harry had barely blinked at the prize when he’d went to the jeweller’s and picked out a piece that would suit her perfectly. And maybe that was the problem in all of this. Harry had spent so much of his life by now, bathing in money, and it didn’t really matter to him anymore what things cost him, because at this point, he had made more money than he’ll ever be able to spend.

Y/N didn’t have that, she wasn’t, nor had she ever bathed in money. She was like everyone else, budgeting her money to see what she could spend and save, and she quite enjoyed it, she didn’t have too much or too little of anything.

So when she opened his “small gift” on his sofa, amongst his friend on her birthday evening, she could feel her blood burning when she pulled out a beautiful, white gold bracelet with tiny charms linked to it. Amongst the charms was an “H” initial and amongst a few others that she could recognize meant something to the both of them. A collective gasp was spread through the room, and Y/N knows she should be happy, but right she felt almost embarrassed. Here she was, sat with her regular friends and millionaire boyfriend, while he gifted her jewellery worth thousands of pounds. Harry sat beside her, smiling widely and awaiting a reaction to his gift. Y/N couldn’t find it in herself to be ungrateful, she wasn’t, but she needed to talk to Harry about the way her stomach twisted and turned, how her cheeks turned red and how she felt guilty to receive something like this. But now wasn’t the time. Instead, she turned to him with a weak smile and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, my love.” She simply said before turning back to her friends and picking up another gift. It hurt her. She could see the slight disappointment in Harry’s eyes as she put his gift to the side.

It had all turned into something much bigger. Y/N wasn’t handling his apparent wealth and need to spoil her very well, and Harry was just confused. He couldn’t understand in his wildest mind how she didn’t want him to spoil her. He couldn’t understand her anger, her guilt, and her refusal to let him love her in this way. Because that was it. Plain and simple he loved her. He hadn’t dared to stutter those words since their first night together, and she hadn’t either, but he sure felt it. He felt in his his whole body, and he had for an embarrassing amount of time.

They made up, at last, and she accepted his gift after a few persuasive kisses and promises of no more gifts like these. She made it clear to him that she did appreciate his effort, and the thoughtfulness, but she didn’t appreciate the huge amount of money he had spent. Harry listened and took it to heart. He wanted to make her happy, of course, and gift giving was part of his love language, he just had to learn to tone it down slightly.

That same feeling in Y/N’s stomach that she had on her birthday had returned as she stepped out of the car and looked at the huge house in front of her. It wasn’t like he had bought her a whole house, it was just a weekend away, but it’s the principle of him spending that much money on her that made her uneasy.

“Darling.” Harry just said as he looked over to her. He knew from the look on her face that the same as the one she wore on her birthday. Harry rounded the car to stand right in front of her.

“This isn’t a cabin Harry. I don’t want to sound ungrateful, you know I appreciate when you plan things like this but…” her fingers played nervously with her rings, tears feeling like they could escape from her eyes at any moment. “Look at me.” Harry said, his hand coming up to her cheek, thumb grazing softly over her jaw. “It’s not just a cabin, ‘m sorry. And I know how you feel about this but you also have to know how I feel. I feel like I could never give you enough, you deserve everything I have pet, and sometimes that shows with money. I don’t want it to bother you like this, because I love y- …doing this for you. You must accept that I want to do this and that I’ve got no bad intentions, just want to show you how much you mean to me.” He almost let it slip from his lips. It felt so easy. Y/N swallowed hard. She didn’t want to fight about money, but being taken care of like this was still so foreign to her that she didn’t know how to handle it. She nodded, and looked up at him with watery eyes. “No more.” She just said as she melted into his body, arms wrapping around his middle and her nose searching for his scent lathered in the neckline of his shirt. “There will be more, I want to give you all of it, pet.” Harry replied. She just nodded into the warmth of his chest.

Overwhelmed was the right word. She didn’t know what to do with all these new feelings of guilt that was put in her, where did they come from? Why couldn’t she just accept that he only did this out of pure adoration for her heart?

They got their bags out of the car and stepped inside the house. From the foyer, she could see straight through the house, with a beautiful lake spread out just a few meters from the house. The water on the lake was shimmering in on the roof, which made the whole house look absolutely magical, like something out of a movie.

The house was massive, white walls and high ceilings with an open kitchen carrying dark wooden details and stone countertops. It was the house of Y/N’s dreams.

They spent the afternoon getting settled in, and going down to the lake to have a splash around. Y/N had discovered a porch swing sitting under the balcony, facing the lake and greenery around it, and if she wasn’t already in love with this place, it only intensified when she saw the swing.

But it wasn’t any old, creaky porch swing, it looked almost like a suspended sofa, blankets draped over it and pillows in the corners.

It was her turn to plan something small for Harry.

As they stood in the burning hot shower after their dip in the lake, Y/N hurriedly scrubbed herself down from the dirt and grime and turned to Harry who looked slightly confused at her erratic behaviour. “You got somewhere to be, pet?” Harry chuckled as she hung up her loofah. Y/N had a mischievous look on her face as she wrapped her arms around his middle. “It’s my turn for a little surprise now. I want you to meet my out the back in 40 minutes, and not a minute earlier, alright?” She said as she reached up and placed a single peck on Harry’s chin. Harry nodded, both his hands coming up to her head, carding through her wet hair and pushing it away from the gentle features of her face, then leaning down and connecting their lips. “I’ll be out in 40 minutes.”

Y/N scrambled to put on her comfortable, yet pretty new pyjamas, and dug out what she needed for her little surprise. She pulled out some candles from the depth of a cabinet in the kitchen, a bottle of wine and her speaker, some fruit for them to snack on and finally, a little gift that she had prepared.

The sun had started to set, a few rays still on the porch swing as she got out. She put the candles in the little lanterns and set up a little table for them, wanting to just have some down-time in the porch swing before their evening ended.

Harry stuck his head out the back door exactly 40 minutes later, a big smile on his face, and his freshly washed curls in a mess on top of his head.

Y/N snapped her head around. “Come sit.” Y/N smiled at him and reached out her hand for him, leading him over to the swing. “You’ve made it so lovely out here, pet. So nice to me, always.” Harry whispered to Y/N’s cheek as he pulled her closer to him. Harry was also wearing some cozy clothes, and through her thin pyjamas, she could feel the heat of his body and ripple of his muscle under his skin. He was home.

They sat down and cozied up with a blanked as Y/N poured them wine. “For you, my good sir.” She said teasingly, reaching him the glass of red wine. As she poured herself a glass, she leaned back into the soft cushion of the swing and into his arms. She was curled up, while Harry had his legs on the ground beneath, softly swinging them back and forth.

“I’m really sorry I was acting like I was earlier. I just have a hard time with you spoiling me like this, but I don’t want you to think that I don’t appreciate it, I do, I really do, H.” Y/N admitted as she looked up at Harry. He wasn’t looking at her, his eyes studying the lake that was still catching the last few sunrays. Then he shook his head as he caught her eyes. “You don’t have to apologize t’me, pet. I know you appreciate it. I just…I need you to know that this isn’t a one-off thing. I want to be able to spoil you. I also know that I’ve told you all of my intentions with you, I want always with you. I want us to enjoy our life, I want us to explore, I want to…I want to be with you, and sometimes I want to spend money on you. I can’t say that it doesn’t hurt me a little when you reject me like that, but I also understand where you’re coming from.” Harry laid out. Y/N felt her insides twist at his mention of her rejecting him, cause in her head, it wasn’t like that; not at all. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m rejecting you. I want the same thing as you, I just…that I don’t want to…bother you, I think. I don’t make nearly as much money as you do and sometimes it makes me feel like shit because I can’t bring the same thing to this relationship as you can. I guess it’s just something that’s always going to stick with me, but I want to be better.”

Y/N said, trying her best to be vulnerable and let him see her side of things. Harry snapped his head to look at her. “Is that really how you feel? Like you’re a bother to me?” He asked her, genuinely, not accusing her of her feelings, but sounding like he was genuinely concerned and interested in what her answer might be. “I do sometimes. I work for you, and I’m your girlfriend, it’s a bit hard to navigate sometimes, because we see each other so constantly, and I just don’t want you to get tired of me.” Harry nodded at her words, and stayed quiet for a moment. Y/N could see the wheels spinning in his head, trying to put the right words into his mouth. “You don’t ever have to feel like you’re a bother. Ever. I want to spend every moment with you, and I know I am so lucky to get to see you every single day at work. I do all of these things because I care about you, and in a world where money is everywhere and everything, I sometimes don’t think about the value of some things. You say that you bring nothing to this relationship, but I wish I could put into words how wrong you are.” Harry said honestly, his thumb stroking gentle circles over her cheek as he leaned in to connect them in a kiss. “I’m in love with you. I haven’t told you since that first night, but I don’t think I can keep it in me anymore, I need to tell you, all the time. I need you to know that you’re it, f’me. I love you so much, and you’ll never bother me the way you think you are.” He said against her lips, breaths switching between them because they’re close, so close. Y/N feels like her whole body is on fire, she’s blushing, her lower stomach filling with arousal and all the love she feels for him is just waiting to explode out of her like a fountain. So she does the first thing that comes to her mind. She kisses him again, again and again, until they’re out of breath and panting. “I love you, thank you for loving me like you do.” Is all she says, and she can feel him smiling into their kiss. Y/N moves around on the swing, and gently places their glasses back on the tiny table in front of them before pushing harry down to lay on his back. “Need to show you.” She murmurs against his mouth, as he welcomes her wet kisses trailing down his neck, making the hairs on his body stand up. “Yeah? You’re going to show me how much you love me?” He teased, as he let himself be pushed around to her liking. There was just something about Harr’s dirty talk that got her going even more, his velvety, low voice, combined with those forbidden, almost taboo words, mixed with his high praises and promise of pleasure. It was her favourite thing.

Y/N straddled his hips, looking down at him with a blown out pupils and slight smile as she tugged on her top to discard it on the floor. Harry’s hands instantly came up to touch. First smoothing over her belly and ribs until he reached her fleshy breasts, pinching her nipples and gauging her reaction. Her body caved into Harry’s as he touched her, leaning over him, with her breasts right in front of his face. Harry seized the moment, sticking out his tongue to tease her nipples, nipping them and working his tongue over them. A frustrated, pleasured moan came from Y/N as she started grinding her hips on his warm, plumping cock. Harry could feel her warmth through her bottoms, opting to grab onto her hips with his hands to pull her closer to him. “Can you feel what you’re doing to me, pet? Feel how much I love you?” Harry breathed into her hair, kissing her pulse point right under her ear, slightly biting on the earlobe.

“Mmmh” Was all she was able to get out before Harry pushed her away from him, grabbing her hand and rushing off to their bedroom for the weekend.

They barely made it through the door before Harry’s lips were on hers again, hands over any skin he could get to as they got rid of the remains of clothes that they still had on.

“Wanna taste…wanna bite.” Harry said to her skin, moving down the bed as he placed wet kisses down her sternum, belly, until he reached her mound. Y/N panted heavily with just the feel of his hands and kisses on her skin as she tangled her fingers through his locks to see his face properly. “Please.” She mewled when he teasingly places feather-light licks and kisses on her inner thighs and mound. “Be good, you’re going to get it, but you have to be my good girl, okay?” He said in reply to her mewl and her hands trying to steer her towards where she wanted him. “I’m good, I want to be good.” Y/N replied absentmindedly. And just as she was about to complain again, she felt his hot tongue inside of her, licking broad licks from her opening to her clit. Shivers of pleasure rippled through her body as he pleased her with his mouth, sucking, nipping, licking, and massaging wherever he could get to.

“You taste like heaven baby, so sweet for me, always.” Harry said as he came up for air. “More, please, H” Y/N said the moment his lips left her. She could feel herself getting closer to her that cliff of pleasure, just about to fall off when he detached. “I know, pet, you’re so close yeah? Could feel it on my tongue. Want my fingers too?” All she could do was nod, frustrated and writhing around in the crispy sheets. “You know I need your wor-“ “Yes, yes please, please do anything” She interrupted him in desperation, her hazy mind not caring about her manners at all. “Good girl.” Was all Harry said before diving back in with his mouth and fingers, instantly feeling her clench around his fingers as he curved them, poking the squishy island of pleasure with the tips of his fingers. Y/N moaned out as she got close, closer to the edge of her orgasm, raising to her elbows so she could see him. His eyes were closed as he worked his magic on her.

“I’m coming” Y/N airily moaned as her whole body tightened and she let herself fall over the cliff. Harry continued to work her through the waved of pleasure, prolonging her orgasm for as long as he possibly could.

Y/N in her post orgasm haze shot up from the sheets, pulling Harry up to her as she kissed him. She could taste herself on his lips, residual wetness around his mouth and chin transferring onto her skin. It was so hot. Without another word, she rolled him over, straddling him once again, like out on the swing. She sat right over his hard length, not yet putting him in as Harry had a lazy, smile on his face, pupils blown out in arousal and pleasure. Y/N put her hands on Harry’s chest, feeling up his muscles and dragging down to his toned stomach as she started moving over his cock, wetting him with her own arousal.

“Pet, Shhi- I’m not going to last if you grind on me like that.” Harry said as he fixed his eyes on hers, a little wrinkle of strain between his dark brows. Y/N said nothing to him, continuing to slick his cock with her wetness with a playful smile and moans of pleasure leaving her lips every time the head bumped her clit. Harry’s hands took a firm grip around her wrists as he sat up.

“You’re just asking for it, aren’t you? Thought you’d want it slow and sweet tonight, but I guess I was wrong.” Harry said in a harsh tone, although Y/N could see straight through him. “Doesn’t matter, just want you to fuck me. You always tease me so I thought you’d have a taste of your own medicine.” Y/N replied sassily with a scowl on her face, but a sparkle in her eye that gave her away immediately. “You…” Harry chuckled as he pinned her down on the bed, giving himself a few cursory strokes before lining himself up with her. “Tell me, pet. Tell me what I want to hear and I’ll give it to you” Harry mumbled into her neck, kissing and sucking on her salty skin. “Mhh, I love you, please get in me” Y/N whimpered out as she reached down in between them, trying any and everything to get him inside of her. “I love you too, pet, tell me again” He spluttered out, kissing her lips as he finally sank in to her, groaning int her mouth. A wave of relief flooded over Y/N, her desperation for him finally calming down as he poked and prodded at her insides with his cock. Harry picked up his pace, giving her deep, long strokes with his hips as Y/Ns legs wrapped around his body.

Missionary was a classic for the two of them, people found it boring and plain, but for Harry and Y/N, it was their preferred position. Easy access to one another, being able to touch, look, and swallow the other’s moans as they chased their highs. Few things were as romantic for them as missionary. And don’t get this wrong, they are the couple to explore new positions and find other ways to pleasure, but they always returned to this. There was something so raw and pure about it, and they couldn’t get enough.

Their foreheads were stuck together, panting into each other’s mouths as Harry hooked her legs into the crease of his elbows, allowing him to hit her at a new angle. “Baby” Y/N moaned out from the change in angle, his cock hitting her spot head on as he continued to work into her. A layer of sweat was building on his chest and shoulders from the strain of chasing their pleasure, and Y/N wanted to lick it off. He looked so good like this.

“I know, I know it feels so good, pet, I feel it too. You’re the best I’ve ever had, should never let you leave my bed.” Harry praised her in response as he kissed the sides of her face, looking at her blissed out expression. Y/N could feel her orgasm approaching again, and Harry could tell, letting go of one of her legs and reaching down between them to touch her. “H, I’m going to come, please, keep going” She mewled underneath him, trying to chase his movements with her hips as she threw her head to the side and into the pillow. “I’m coming pet, so fucking weak for you. Want it inside, want me to fill you up, baby?” Harry replied with a raspy groan, and that, that made Y/N tip over yes. Her orgasm wracked through her body, her nails digging into Harry’s biceps as she let out sounds of her pleasure. “Inside, please, Daddy, I want it inside.” She encouraged as her eyes glazed over, fixing her eyes on his as she knew he was right after her, wanting the most out of his orgasm, just as he did to her. “Shit- pet you’re playing dirty, Daddy’s gonna come for you, I-“ Harry groaned as he let out pathetic little whimpers. His hips stuttered, burying himself deeper inside of her and catching her lips in a messy kiss, warm tongue sliding over hers. She could feel her lower stomach, warm with him, chuckling and pushing the hair out of his face as he collapsed on top of her completely.

Her nails started raking through his hair and down his back as they basked in the afterglow of their intense sex. Harry placed a gentle kiss on her collarbone and put his head on her shoulder, looking up at her. “I wish I had more words in my vocabulary to tell you how much I love you, I feel like I love you isn’t enough.” Harry spoke genuinely in a low tone. “Write me a book, yeah?” She chuckled as she tried to settle into the moment and enjoy it before having to detangle from each other. “Don’t joke about that, might as well happen, you know.” Harry laughed as he detached their sticky bodies rising from the bed. “C’mon, my love, quick wash up and then sleep.”

Y/N laid there looking at his outstretched arm, completely bare for each other as her heart pumped with pure love and adoration for the man in front of her. She took his hand, and they stumbled into the shower together.

Y/N was awoken by a harsh light in her face, and Harry sitting up on the edge of the bed. He put his phone to his ear, and she could hear him talking lowly on his phone. Casting her a glance and then leaving through the door as to not disturb her sleep.

She could hear him out in the hall.

“I don’t know what to tell you, I can’t….i can’t do anything from here, I’m away for the weekend…No…Well you’re going to have to fix It in some way, call Niall, I’m not available. All I ask is one weekend in quiet and you idiots can’t even do that. Fine. Call Niall and head of security at IT and figure it out, yeah? Bye.”

Y/N listened curiously in her cocoon of blankets, what time was it, why did they need him now?

Harry stepped inside once again and lifted the blankets. Y/N couldn’t really tell if it was anger or worry on his face. “I’m sorry I woke you up, pet. Some idiots at the office don’t know how to handle their job. Let’s go back to sleep.” She could tell he tried his best not to let anger spill out on their conversation, and she felt bad for him, always having to be available and never catching a break. This job would be the death of him some day.

“You’re alright, baby. It’s not your fault. What did they need you for?” She tried with a gentle voice, welcoming him into her arms as he settled in bed and turned off the bedside lamp. “There’s been some kind of security breach in one department, and someone is trying to leak personal data and now they want a ransom to not leak the data and get out of our systems.” Harry sighed. Jesus. “There’s nothing I can do, but they’re calling in head of IT and security to have a look at it, it’s happened before, but hopefully it’s just a scare. Didn’t want to wake you up though, I’m sorry,” He continued, obviously feeling defeated and helpless in the situation.

“I’m sure there’s a way to make it up to me.” Y/N tried as she placed gentle kisses on his jaw and neck, and she could feel Harry instantly relaxing and smiling at her wording. “Yeah? Tell me and I’ll make it up to you.” He let her lead him on, feeling her hands playing with the elastic of his boxer briefs. “Guess.” Harry shook his head in adoration as he pulled down his boxers and took her underwear off in the same movement, getting in behind her and pushing inside of her. No preparation was needed. Nothing got him harder when he knew she wanted him.

“Fuck, it hasn’t even been two hours and I’ve already missed being inside of you.” Harry admitted with a sigh as he entered her again.

It was lazy, raw and desperate sex, in the middle of the night. Harry couldn’t stop thinking about her, having her in every way imaginable. And he kept thinking about his life from over a year ago, when he had no idea that she, the love of his life, was about to enter into her life. And even if it was just something small, like having sex to take the edge off from the day, Harry couldn’t imagine anything else for his life as they fell asleep cuddled up to each other, leaving no room for work or security breaches to enter his mind. It was just them.

Back at work, a few days later, Lydia, Y/N’s co-worker and close friend smiled suspiciously at Y/N as she prepared her desk for the workday,

“There’s something up with you, and I can’t tell what it is.” Lydia wiggled her eyebrows with an interrogating look on her face. Y/N blushed slightly, but tries to keep a straight face through the conversation, having a sip of her morning coffee. “I’m an open book.” Y/N tried to play, but she could tell that Lydia wasn’t buying it. “You. Me. Meeting in Atlas in 5 minutes. We need to have a MEETING.” Lydia pressed, gathering her things and rushing off to the free meeting room to have a pretend meeting with her best friend. Y/N rolled her eyes and went after her. She could never keep anything from Lydia. She just knew stuff without knowing. Of course, the whole office knew about Harry and Y/N getting involved, but they kept in on the low.

“Alright. Spill the beans, all of them, right now.” Lydia said immediately when she closed the door and plopped down in a chair opposite of Y/N. Just as she was about to answer her, Harry walked by on the other side of the glass. He glanced inside, smiling his brilliant smile and sending her a quick wink before he was off. Y/N looked up with a smile spreading over her face, just from that small interaction. Lydia didn’t even have to turn around. “It’s him, yeah?” Y/N nodded, eyes stuck on the glass where he had just walked by. “I think I’m going to marry him.” Y/N said as she kept looking through the glass. Her heart grew every time she looked at him. If this wasn’t love, then she didn’t know what was.

And Lydia just burst out laughing, a true belly laugh, like she hadn’t heard anything funnier in her whole lifetime. “Babe, tell me something I don’t know. I’ve never seen two people as dumb in love with each other as you two. I’m sure there’s going to be a ring on your finger in the next year, but probably tomorrow if Harry got to have it his way. Plus, you two wreaked of “I just had the best sex of my life” the minute you stepped into the building”

Y/N just blinked at Lydia, blushing at her comment. She hadn’t heard anyone talking about them like that before, and it made her heart grow three sizes. Was it that obvious to everyone? Even Harry?

“Really, you think so?” Y/N replied with a watery smile. Lydia looked at her with a smile. “I know so. There’s absolutely no doubt. I’ve known Harry for about three years, and he’s never been like this, ever. It’s like a different person, I’m telling you- “. Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door, both Lydia’s and Y/N’s eyes flying up to see Harry at the door. “Hello ladies, I was just wanting to borrow Y/N for a quick second.” He tried to be professional, bless him, but the smile overtaking his features revealed him. Lydia smiled at him. “Of course. No funny business, Mr. Styles.” She teased him with a smack on his arm as she left the room, turning around when she was behind him and staring at her intensely, “I TOLD YOU” She mouthed to her.

Y/N chuckled, rising from her chair and meeting Harry halfway around the conference table. “What a pleasure, Mr. Styles, what could you want me for, huh?” Y/N teasingly smiled as she stepped into his embrace. Harry looked down at her with nothing but love in his eyes, his thumb grazing her cheek as she leaned into his touch, “Just wanted to ask the lady if she would like to have dinner with me, tonight. Was thinking about making my famous curry, and I’d like for you to be there.” Harry continued with his little act. “Well, my good sir, I would really like that. I’ll see you later, then.” Y/N replied courteously as she began walking out; but not before Harry grabbed her hand and pulled her back into him. Both his hand on her face, gently passing his fingers through her hair and picking at stray pieces of hair, lovingly. “I love you, be good, yeah?” He said in a way that made her lower stomach flutter with arousal. “I’ll be good. I love you.” She replied before he attached his lips to hers in a long, soft kiss. A few more pecks for good measure, and then she turned around and left, a glimmer in her eye.

Harry stood glued in his spot, completely besotted with her and everything that was her. “I think I need to marry her.” He whispered to himself as he shook out of his daydream, to continue his workday.

[storiesfromafan]

Guilty As Sin

A/N: I know its been a while. Forgive me. Had/still have writers block, but have managed to pull this out of the black hole of my mind. Though not 100% sure how I feel about this haha...

Pairing: slight Matthe Riddle x Fem!Reader

Summary: thoughts of our favorite Slytherin and longing.

Guilty As Sin

We’re all guilty of imaging a moment with someone we couldn’t have. We’re all guilty of those fantasies being sweet and innocent or more passionate and intense. And you were no exception. The innocent nerdy sixth year, whom had her face in a book but a mind that would even make Snape blush, couldn’t escape such thoughts. Chalk it up to teenage hormones, shall we.

And you might be asking yourself just whom was the star of your desires? Why the Slytherin bad boy himself; Mattheo Riddle. The first time you saw him back in second year, with his delightful looks, luscious brown locks, and molten brown eyes. It was love at first sight for you, as well as just about every other female around you in that moment.

Currently you were making your way to potions class. Silently you and a few of your friends were walking behind none other than Mattheo, Lorenzo, and Theodore. They were deep in conversation, hardly noticing the eyes that watched their every move. Every female they passed caste their eyes to them, while whispering and giggling about the boys before you. They were like celebrities.

You had imagined what it would have been liked to walk next to Mattheo down the halls of Hogwarts, holding hands or his arm around you, with a confident smile on his lips. All the while every female you’d pass would look miserable, for you’d have what they wanted. Then when you would reach your classroom, Mattheo would step forward and open the door for you, a sweet smile upon his face with eyes only looking at you.

Two third year boys running by you and your friends brought you back from your thoughts, reality sinking in and making you curl into yourself. Like Mattheo would ever be like that with me, you thought with a sigh.

Looking back up to the boys a head of you, you watched Mattheo open the potions room door, his two friends clapping him on the shoulder before entering the room. His brown orbs lifted in the direction of you and your friends, a soft smile on his lips. All three of you came to the door, expecting him to slip in with a laugh, door closing on you all. But you were pleasantly surprised when he remained where he was.

“After you ladies” Mattheo said gesturing to enter the room.

Wearily your friends thanked him before entering. You on the other hand couldn’t muster any words but gave him a nod. Then regretting it right after. Feeling stupid, you made your way to your potion brewing station and started to unpack for the class. Any thing to distract you from the embarrassment you were feeling.

Not long after what you believed to be the last few students entering the classroom did Professor Slughorn enter the room. Crossing the room, he called out for everyone to settle and to gather by the caldrons by his desk. You smiled at your best friend (name), who returned your smile before you moved to where Slughorn requested everyone. The older man placed the various parchments in his arms on his desk, before searching for something on said messy desk.

Eventually finding what he was after he turned back to you all, he cast his eyes around the room and smiled. Just as Slughorn began to speak, the classroom door opened and in came none other then Harry Potter and his best friend, Ron Weasley. Both looked a little frazzled, probably from the rushing to get to class. With the two new comers addressed and off to get textbooks, Slughorn went back to teaching.

“Now as I was saying” Slughorn began, “I prepared some concoctions this morning. Anyone have any idea what these may be?” He asked, eyes roaming over the class.

As usual, before you could raise your hand, Hermione had raised hers. And of course she was chosen. She stepped up to the different cauldrons, identifying all three potions Slughorn had brewed.

“Such a know it all” (name) said, making you chuckle.

Movement next to you drew your attention before hearing their voice. “She really is” said the one person you hadn’t expected to be so close.

Turning your face slightly you were met with Mattheo, he wasn’t looking at you, but you knew he had taken upon himself to join you and your best friends dislike of the Gryffindor. (Name) chuckled at Mattheo’s response, all the while you felt lightheaded from being so close to the bad boy of Slytherin.

You were brought back to the lesson on hand when Hermoine spoke of the last potion; Amortentia. A love potion. With every word she spoke you could see the females in the room hanging on to her every word. There were some soft laughs when Hermoine spoke of what she could smell, but she stopped with slight embarrassment before stepping back to her place in the crowd. All the while a group of girls slinked their way toward the potion. But then Slughorn covered it, making you giggle.

“Amortentia doesn’t create actual love, that would be impossible. But it does cause powerful infatuation or obsession” the professor preached looking over the class. “And for that reason, it is probably the most dangerous potion in this room”.

Theodore and Lorenzo, who stood on the other side of Matther snickered. “Better be careful Mattheo, one of the girls here might spike you with that potion” Theodore jested knocking shoulders with his friend.

Mattheo laughed shaking his head. “Guess I better not accept any gifts for a while”.

All the while the three friends talked did Slughorn go on, to which you didn’t pay much attention too. The proximity to the boy of your desires over rid your logical side. You could feel how close his hand was to yours, one slight movement would surely have your hands touch. So close to knowing what it would feel like to touch his skin, to know how warm he was.

Before you could really get lost, you were brought back to Slughorn assigning you all to make an acceptable draught of Living Death. Everyone – but the boys to your left – moved to turn to page ten in the textbook, while the stragglers were a few seconds behind you all.

Once returning to your station, you and (name) began to work on your potion. But not too long after you both started did you have two new comers to the station in front of you. Looking up your (colour) eyes met warm chocolate ones. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of Mattheo before you.

“Sorry ladies” Lorenzo said moving some instruments around on the table. “Our cauldron wasn’t working to its full potential. Slughorn sent us over here”.

Your best friend looked both boys over with a serious look. “That’s fine. Just stay to your side”.

They both nodded and agreed. So now not only did you have a tricky potion to make, but it had to be done with your living and breathing distraction so close to your personal space. To say it was hard to focus was an understatement. Hearing him talk to Lorenzo was the best sound to hit your ears, hearing the teasing or the frustration was addicting. Not to mention steeling glances at the boy, watching how his hands worked on the potion’s ingredients. Or the concentration on his face. The thoughts that crossed your mind were never to be repeated to a soul.

While working on autopilot, you found yourself thinking about Mattheo’s hands and where you would like to feel them touching. Staring at your hands, his larger hands locking with your own as he drew you close. The soft words he would whisper in your ear. His lips grazing the shell of said ear as he showered you in compliments. Slowly his hands would leave your own, moving to your wrists, thumbs caressing your pulse. Slowly moving up your arms, drawing goose bumps to your skin, while a pleasant chill roll downs your spine.

His hands would grasp your upper arms, holding you firmly as he kissed your cheek tenderly. Those sinful lips peppering your jawline before descending to your neck. You would roll your head to the side, eyes closing slightly and an airy sigh slipping from your lips as he kisses that one spot on your neck. While his lips worked on your neck his hands would move to your waist, soon moving around to your back and pulling you into his body completely. Your chests meeting, leaving no space between you both.

“(Y/N/N), can you pass me another Sopophorus bean” (name)’s voice came cutting through your daydream. “The little bugger got away from me”.

Feeling your face flush and not trusting your words, you nodded your head a few times before passing your friend what she asked for. All the while cursing yourself for letting Mattheo distract you and send you off to la-la land. Looking from under your eyelashes, you peaked in on the boy before you. From what you could tell, he was focused on his potion and possibly didn’t see you not paying attention.

Thank God, you thought rolling your shoulders.

Putting all thoughts of the temptation before you aside, you focused on your potion. And by the time you were done it was just passable. You felt annoyed with yourself, letting your schoolwork slip because of daydreaming. But you would make sure the next potion was the best. At a frustrated growl, a sound that hit you and made you flush, Mattheo was struggling with his potion. Lorenzo not really helping either.

In a bit of a daze, you moved around the station to the boy’s side. You watched them – or rather Mattheo – closely. Noting what was being done and how it wasn’t exactly how it should have been done.

“You’re stirring it wrong” you said moving to stand between to the two, taking the stirrer from Mattheo’s hand. The brief contact of 2 seconds was enough to tell you he was indeed warm to touch.

“Excuse me” Lorenzo said slightly flabbergasted.

“Look, it has to be stirred like this” you stated mixing the potion the correct way. “If you kept stirring like you were, it would have produced smoke”.

Both boys watched how the liquid seemed to start to change, resembling what their textbook described. Offering Mattheo the stirrer, the both of you sharing a look, he took the stirrer and that brief contact again. Looking back to the caldron, you stood there watching Mattheo’s progress with the potion. Taking a step closer, you felt his leg brush against yours.

You stiffened at the contact, your mind shutting down for a moment. When it finally came back online you abruptly stepped back from the boy. Sputtering words, you think it was something like; there you go. You quickly moved back around to your side of the station and finding the textbook on the table most interesting.

All the while your mind processed how close you had been to Mattheo. As much as brushing legs was, knowing the briefest contact of his hands, you were trying to imagine what it would feel like to be sitting next to each other. His larger hand running up your calf muscle and to a resting spot on your thigh. What the warmth of that hand would feel like on your skin. Would he firmly hold your thigh in his hand, a declaration that you were his? Yes, you think he would. You believe Mattheo would be territorial. Not to mention the jealous type.

Soon Slughorn began to go around and test everyone potions. Yours just passed Slughorn’s test, both you and (name) sighed in relief. Even Mattheo and Lorenzo’s just made it, both boys sheepishly thanking you once Slughorn was gone. You blushed and waved them off. Looking up and over at Mattheo, you were surprised he was looking at you. And when he gave you a small, thankful smile, you knew he was grateful. Oh, the butterflies that fluttered in your stomach from such a small gesture was amazing.

Class was coming to an end; you were packing up your bag while (name) talked about your next class. You were only half listening to her, instead you were watching Mattheo from under your lashes. Silently hoping those beautiful brown orbs would focus on you once more. Only they didn’t. Your heart falling.

Grabbing your bag, you and your friends headed from the classroom and from the dungeons for the day. You softly smiled at your friends as they talked while crossing the room, before walking out the doors. If you had taken a moment to turn back to your station, you would have seen how Mattheo had watch you leave the classroom. An unreadable look upon his gorgeous face.

Theodore clapped Mattheo on the back, bringing the boy from his thoughts. “Come on mate, lets get to our next class” Theodore laughed, walking with Lorenzo.

Mattheo nodded his head, before getting up and following his friends. Only for them to stop by the Amortentia potion. Both Theodore and Lorenzo shared a look, before daring the other to smell the potion. Neither caved in, resorting it calling each other chicken.

Mattheo sighed. “Your both chicken”. He lifted the lid on the caldron and took a deep breath.

“Well?” Both his friends asked, hanging for their friends answer.

“I smell a sweet citrus…” he inhaled again. “Fresh washed linen…and musky books…”

Theodore and Lorenzo shared a look before having a laugh. But then they both stepped up and found out what the potion would smell for them. After both his friends had a laugh at their own scents, they put the lid back on the cauldron before leaving the room. The three scents played over in Mattheo’s mind, one person coming to forth. And she had been in front of him the whole time…

[omgrachwrites]

My Oh My (Mattheo Riddle)

Mattheo Riddle x Potter!Reader

Request: Do you do song based requests? I was hoping for a Matthew Riddle x potter!Reader based on the song My oh my and/or Shameless from Camila Cabello. You are so good at writing that tension in between characters that shouldn't be together but want to break that forbidden love trope lol - anon

Warnings: fluff, swearing, mentions of sex, wolfstar being adorable

A/N: I hope this is okay anon! Hope you guys all enjoy, I love you all! xxx

You crept along the silent corridors, hoping to Merlin that you wouldn’t get caught by a ghost, or Mrs Norris for that matter. You would have stolen the Invisibility Cloak if Harry wouldn’t miss its absence, you did always have to remind him that your dad had told you to share it but he wouldn’t listen.

It was well past midnight so it wasn’t likely that anybody was going to be in the Common Room. You grinned as you recalled your earlier activities and your knees almost weakened.

They say he likes a good time (My, oh my) He comes alive at midnight (Every night)

You whispered the password, apologising to The Fat Lady for waking her up and you crept through the portrait hole.

“Where have you been?” a quiet voice came from beside the fireplace making you jump.

“Fuck, Harry!” you swore at your older brother and sighed as he waited for you to answer his question, “I couldn’t sleep so I went for a walk,” the lie rolled of your tongue so easily that it surprised you.

Harry nodded, your answer seemed to satisfy him, “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he sighed as he pushed his glasses up his nose, “Hermione woke up and you weren’t there so she panicked. Then, I panicked,” he chuckled, “I was just about to come and look for you.”

Guilt twisted in your stomach as you smiled weakly at Harry, “you don’t have to worry about me Harry, I promise. I’m gonna go up to bed, night Harry.”

“Night, Y/N,” he smiled as you went up to bed. You went to bed feeling like the worst person in the world.

The morning dawned bright and early, and you were walking a little bit behind your friends as you all walked down to the carriages. You were still feeling guilty about the night before so you were keeping your distance. You felt a cold hand wrap around your wrist and you were pulled into the nearest broom cupboard.

“What the fuck?!” you yelped, rolling your eyes when you came face to face with the cocky Slytherin. The same Slytherin that you had shared the previous night with.

My mama doesn't trust him (My, oh my) He's only here for one thing But (so am I) Yeah

A little bit older A black leather jacket A bad reputation Insatiable habits

“Hello, darling,” he grinned, his hands coming up to grip your waist, “I wanted to see you before we all go home for the summer.”

“Well, you’ve seen me, Mattheo,” you laughed as he rolled his eyes, “people will get suspicious if we’re in here for much longer.”

“You will write to me this summer, won’t you?”

You cupped his cheek, trailing your fingers across the scar that he’d received from duelling, “I’ll try,” you promised.

He nodded at your answer before leaning in to kiss you, you kissed him back gently, your fingers digging through his curls. As he pulled away he bit his lip and looked away from your face, “I like you, y’know.”

You laughed at the flush that spread across his cheeks, “I like you too.”

Your friends weren’t that far ahead so it didn’t take long for you to catch up with them, “are you alright, Y/N?” Ron asked.

“Yeah, all good,” you nodded, slightly out of breath, laughing when he slung an arm over your shoulders.

It was a couple of weeks into summer when you walked into the kitchen and heard Harry whining to your mum, “why do me and Y/N have to come though?”

“Oh no, where are we going?”

Your mum looked at you with a sigh as if talking to Harry exhausted her, you knew the feeling, “we’re going to The Three Broomsticks for dinner tonight.”

“What, why?”

“Because,” Lily rolled her eyes, “Sirius wants us to meet his new partner.”

“What’s the point in that when they’re just gonna break up in a couple of months?” since your mum and dad had been in school Sirius held a torch for Remus, but he’d never said anything. Sirius’ relationships barely lasted 6 months.

“That’s exactly what I said,” your dad laughed as he walked into the kitchen.

Lily sighed but you could tell that she was trying not to laugh, “don’t encourage them, James.”

When you and your family arrived at The Three Broomsticks you noticed Sirius and Remus sitting at the table. There was no one else there and they looked pretty nervous, “do you think…?” you trailed off, looking at Harry.

Harry shook his head, “nah, they definitely would have told us by now,” you nodded but you knew first hand that that wasn’t always the case.

As you walked over to the table, Sirius smiled up at you all in greeting and you sat down, “so, everyone knows Remus, obviously,” he laughed and Remus offered everyone a little wave like you hadn’t known him for all your life.

“Does this mean that you guys are together?” Harry asked what everyone else was thinking and when Sirius nodded, your heart leapt for joy. Two people who you loved more than anything had finally found each other, you couldn’t think of anything better.

Your mum and dad whooped, “yes! Wolfstar is real!”

Remus laughed, looking relieved that everyone was taking this so well, “what the hell is Wolfstar?”

Lily flushed as she looked at James, “it was our ship name for you in school, we’re so glad that you guys are together!”

Sirius grinned, “thanks guys!”

“First round is on me,” James grinned, “come on, Y/N, you can help me.”

“Oh, dad!” you whined as you followed him to the bar.

You didn’t notice the bartender until he came to take your order, “what can I get for you?”

You froze when you realised it was Mattheo behind the bar, he stared at you in turn, his blue eyes widening. Your dad put the order in and when he wasn’t paying attention, you leaned over the bar to speak to Mattheo.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

He shrugged as he poured the pints, “thought I’d keep myself busy,” he hissed, “since the only person I want to speak to won’t reply to my letters.”

You bit your lip, you really did feel bad about that one, it had been a jam packed summer already, you hardly had any time to write secret little love letters, “Theo…” you trailed off as your dad paid for the drinks and Mattheo shook his head at you.

As Remus explained how Sirius finally had the guts to tell him how he felt, you couldn’t help but watch the handsome boy behind the bar as he walked from customer to customer with cat like grace. He grinned at a little old woman and spent a lot of time speaking with her, you wished you could hear what he was saying. You liked him like this, it always seemed as though he had to put up a front in school, you wished he could be himself but you supposed you couldn’t blame him, considering who his father was.

Unfortunately, you weren’t as subtle as you thought because your mum saw you looking at him, “who’s that behind the bar?”

“A boy from school,” you muttered, taking a sip of your Butterbeer.

“He’s Mattheo Riddle. Voldemort’s son,” Harry blurted out.

“Harry!” you hissed.

Lily scowled as she eyed him curiously over her wine glass, “he looks like trouble, I hope you’re staying away from him, Y/N.”

“Of course mum.”

When you spotted Mattheo going outside, you made excuses about how you wanted to get some fresh air as you followed him out. You found him leaning against the wall, lighting a cigarette, “those things will kill you, y’know,” you giggled.

“Among other things,” he blew out some smoke, not looking at you.

“Theo,” you sighed walking towards him, “I’m sorry that I haven’t been writing to you.”

Mattheo sighed as he looked at you, touching your cheek, “I understand, you have to protect yourself.”

“I’m not trying to protect myself, I’m trying to protect you! Do you what my parents would do to you if they found out about us? Not to mention my brother.”

Mattheo smirked at you, his blue eyes surprisingly bright in the dark of the night, “trying to protect me huh?” he grinned when you nodded, “I lied by the way, when I told you that I liked you. I meant to say that I really like you,” he flushed and you marvelled at how something like this could embarrass him, after all you would together in The Room of Requirement.

“I really like you too.”

Mattheo flicked away his cigarette as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as he leaned in to kiss you. You sighed against his lips, tasting the mint of his gum and the smoke from his cigarette, it was an intoxicating taste.

He was onto me, one look and I couldn't breathe Yeah, I said, "If you kiss me I might let it happen"

I swear on my life that I've been a good girl Tonight, I don't wanna be her

He pulled away from you slightly, resting his forehead against yours, “a forbidden, secret romance is actually pretty sexy, Y/N,” he smirked.

“You’re such a prick,” you laughed as you pulled him in for another kiss.

[wri0thesley]

my heart a frozen thing (I of III)- capitano x reader

the tsaritsa's handmaidens are enviable indeed; perfect, chaste, and honoured beyond measure. a well-oiled machine. but you do not quite fit in. lucky, then, that the tsaritsa herself has intervened, to find you a position that befits who you once were - to arrange your marriage to one of her most trusted lieutenants.

cw: arranged marriage, mentions of death/freezing to death, corpses, weird religious themes, bullying. reader is referred to as a 'handmaiden', wears a gown, but no pronouns are used. wc: 5.4k. sfw.

a/n: capitano and his little handmaiden are a little thing i've wanted to explore for a while; i don't usually do series, but i have a very clear idea of where this is going and i hope i can get it there! in my head this ought to run to three parts, but here is the first! i had a lot of fun just making up background for this honestly fbgnkjgbfn.

i.

The halls of Zapolyarny Palace have never felt so cold. 

They are halls that you have walked a thousand times, at the behest of your Goddess; chambers that you have traversed for as long as you can remember. You learnt yourself here - so much so that the person you once were, the family you once had . . . that has faded to nothing. You have been a ward of the Tsaritsa since you were six years old, and you would not have had it any other way. 

After all - are you not one step down from divinity? Do you not follow in her wake, untouchable and lovely? Do you not provide her with anything she could need? You see the Fatui members who walk these halls, the Harbingers - their hands are stained with blood up to the elbows, their figures stooped from war, their faces twisted with their troubles. They have clawed their way up the ranks -

And you? You have done no such thing. Something about you had called out to the Tsaritsa and she had welcomed you to her bosom and you had accepted, allowing yourself to be draped in furs and glittering crystals, to stand proud and haughty, to kneel for her and ensure her skirts are never dirtied, her every whim is met . . . 

Until today, you suppose. 

Her lips had felt like ice when she had kissed you on your forehead, and you had known then that you would walk from her chambers freezing cold and stripped of everything you held dear. You have always known that your fellow handmaidens did not like you; that they had envied you the Tsaritsa’s favour, that they have whispered that you are unworthy. Such things are easy to ignore when you know that you are cherished, though - and you had ignored them. You had ignored how they had ripped holes in your stockings and sent you on wild goose chases and errands, how they whispered behind your back when you fell into formation looking harried and rushed and imperfect because you had not been able to find your hairbrush in the morning. 

But the handmaidens of the Tsaritsa are supposed to be a unit. You are all supposed to see one another as siblings; to think of nothing more than Her, and how you may serve Her. It is this that the Tsaritsa had said to you in your private meeting, as you had shivered and burned with the cold ice of humiliation. 

“I love you,” she had said, with her voice as lovely as shattering crystals, as she had pressed that traitorous kiss onto your forehead. “Do not worry, little one. I shall ensure that you will not be thrown to the wolves.”

And then she had told you exactly how she was ensuring that, and you had had no choice but to stand before her, trembling, chin jutting proudly up - and pretend that you agreed with her decision. 

There is nobody in the dormitory when you go to pack what little things you have; you are glad of that, at least, so that those who have brought you down to this station in life cannot gloat at you. You do not have many things of your own; of course, the handmaidens are given fine clothes, but they are more uniform than ordinary wardrobe. You pack your hairbrush, a book, a few other creature comforts - but you are supposed to be a homogenous unit, after all, and to make yourself too individual would simply not do. 

One of the Tsaritsa’s servants is waiting outside of the door for you when you emerge. You shiver in the cool air, but try to keep a thread of your calm; give her a trembling smile. She looks at you with curiosity in her gaze, but she does not pry; that is not the way of things here. You soon lose track of where she is taking you.

In Zapolyarny Palace, there are paths that you walk every day; to the chapel, to the Tsaritsa’s chambers, to the hallowed halls and meeting rooms and anywhere else a handmaiden may be needed. But you do not wander freely beyond that. You know there are offices and spare bedrooms and studies and libraries galore - it is a most magnificent work of architecture - but you are not at liberty to explore them. So you soon lose your bearing as the servant brings you through hallways you’ve never seen, past doors you never knew existed. You feel your heart begin to beat too fast in your chest, anxiety crawling up your throat. 

You do not know what is to happen to you now. 

You know in theory what the Tsaritsa expects to happen, and you ought to believe her - find her infallible, as your Goddess and Archon surely is - but you have learnt, today, that nothing is infallible. You do not think any handmaiden in the history of Her Majesty’s service has ever been let go like you - and, too, you know none of them have suffered the humiliation of being--

You can barely even think the words. You think of the first Harbinger again, the one directly beneath the Director; the looming presence, the always-worn mask, the whispers that follow in his wake . . . you cannot imagine yourself on his arm. Cannot imagine yourself in his bed. Cannot imagine yourself standing beside him at an altar, promising him eternity--

“We’re here.” The servant’s voice is timid; even though she must surely know that you are disgraced, there is still - in your bearing and in the fine white furs and silks you wear - the reminder of what you were before disgrace came knocking at your door, and she has been taught that the Tsaritsa’s handmaidens are pure and perfect and precious. How you wish you felt that way. 

“Thank you,” you say to her, swallowing to try and clear the dryness in your throat, trying to summon a smile. She bobs an awkward curtsey and inclines her head before she scurries away down the corridor, no doubt to whisper to someone about the scandal that is unfolding within the palace’s halls. 

You look at the door to your new life. It is carved with swirling snowflakes; a solid impenetrable wooden shield from the rest of the palace. You do not know if it will stay your door, but you have nowhere else to go now. You cannot go running back to the dormitory of the handmaidens; surely, by now, they will all have been told exactly how you have been disgraced--

Your gloved fingers fasten about the doorknob as you force your traitorous heart to beat evenly. You must take things as they come; there is no point getting too frightened just yet. Some of the Harbingers do indeed keep quarters in the Palace - Pantalone, you know, has a wing set aside for his use. And Pulcinella, too, needing to be near the beating heart of Snezhnaya, has rooms here. 

It is in the nature of a handmaiden, you remind yourself, to be calm. To keep their wits about them. It is proper of you to maintain an even voice and a pretty face, to be ready to be called to your service at a moment’s notice; and though you are not, really, a handmaiden any more . . . your entire life has been governed by these rules, and such things do not desert one so easily. So you keep your head held high as you step into the room, your chin jutting out, your eyes wide, your face proud--

And you do not let the tears fall, like your life is collapsing into the sea around you and leaving you adrift with no safe harbour (your beautifully designed ice sculpture of an existence), until the door is closed and nobody but you and the sharp coldness of the mirror mounted on the wall opposite is there to see it. 

ii.

You are expecting to be brought before him, as would befit a man of his status - a status that now far outranks your own. You are expecting Fatui grunts or serving maids to come and fetch you from the neatly appointed little room of the Palace, to drag you before the Harbinger you are to become reliant upon, and to have every part of you scrutinised. Perhaps he will find you wanting, you think bitterly; perhaps he does not want to be a part of this mockery any more than you do. Perhaps he will snarl beneath the mask and despite the Tsaritsa’s attempts to save your life, will have you banished to some cold unfeeling corner of the Palace where you will freeze to death and nobody will find your corpse. 

(It would hardly be the first time such a thing has occurred in Snezhnaya). 

You are not expecting that the first of the Fatui Harbinger, he of the war glories, second only in the chain of command to the Director himself, would lower himself to come to you. 

But come to you he does. 

The room that you have been given is lovely if impersonal; a bedspread patterned with sprigs of blue flowers, an ornate mirror, a wardrobe and a shelf of knick-knacks. You, as a handmaiden, have never had cause to tend to the guest rooms - that is for those whose service is less important, whose place in the world is less holy - but you do at least know enough to know that is what this is. And you suppose, too, that is what you are now too. 

No longer somebody who truly belongs in the Palace; no longer one of a flock of beautiful befurred doves, cooing and twittering over who will be granted the honour of smoothing Her Majesty’s dress, of combing her hair. Simply a guest - a person waiting to see what the next step in their life will be. Perhaps Zapolyarny Palace will be a pitstop; perhaps your new betrothed will have somewhere else to put you like an ornamental doll. 

Perhaps he will take you to his camps, his fields of war, install you in his tent until you have forgotten the luxury of silks and glass and the blood he sheds stains your white furs red. Your nails dig crescent moons into your palms at the thought of it; of all of the ways your life could spiral into decay and dirt when it has only ever been pristine and beautiful before. 

You are sitting on the bed when the knock comes, when the door is opened before you can even call out. You see the faintest outline of some Fatui soldier, before his bulk is silhouetted in the doorway and your breath is robbed from your chest. 

Seeing him pass by you in hallways, or at the table when you have been called to the Tsaritsa’s side, does not do the man justice. He seems to tower over you; his presence in the room makes it seem like a dollhouse more than anything functional. Your eyes flitter, afraid to rest upon him too much lest you see something terrifying staring back at you. 

You cannot describe it, but your entire body seems to go into a freeze response; you sit there, exactly like the ornament you are so afraid of becoming, your gloved hands neatly balled into fists upon the luxurious fabric of your handmaiden’s gown, your eyes wide with surprise and fear.

You expect him to stride in; to take what he has been given, self-assured as only a member of Her Majesty’s most esteemed lieutenant can truly be. Thoughts flash through your head; of him throwing you upon the prettily patterned bedsheets and having his way with you, of him grabbing you roughly and letting his hands explore the merchandise he has been granted. 

Certainly, the visual of him makes those seem the most likely course of action. The massive stature, the shadows that his shoulders throw across the room. The impassive iron mask; the armour that he dons, whether he is on official business or not. Your shoulders draw up against your ears, preparing for something, though you know not what. You catch a glimpse of eyes, bluer than the hottest fire--

And then Il Capitano sinks to one knee in front of you and reaches for your trembling, gloved hand. Your breath catches in your throat as he draws it closer to himself - but then, he presses his mask against the fabric in an echo of a kiss, and from beneath the helmet he wears comes a voice like an echo in an iron chamber. 

“Little handmaiden,” he says - and then, “I regret not coming sooner.” 

“I--” Your tongue will not work around the syllables. It trembles in your mouth; only your willpower alone stops your teeth clacking together like some awful grisly musical instrument. “My Lord Harbinger, I . . .” 

“Do not worry,” he says, his voice still a strange echo - you cannot imagine getting used to it, cannot imagine it whispering words of love into the shell of your ear. You can imagine it, though, booming across a battlefield, and the thought makes your heart seize in your chest. “I have no intention to hurt you. I am . . . most honoured by the privilege that has been entrusted to me.” 

You realise with a start that you are the privilege; that this is punishment for you, but it does not seem so to him. The thought gives you pause. 

Even the word . . . ‘privilege’. He does not call you a reward; does not act as though he has been given you as some Archon-won right, to do with as he pleases. For the first time, you let yourself wonder if perhaps your fate is not to be as cruel as you had feared. 

“Thank you,” you say to him, your voice a thready little mouse-whisper of noise. Capitano does not move from his place before you, kneeling upon the parquet flooring of the room - his hand does not let go of yours for a moment, as if he cannot quite believe that you are real flesh and blood there before him. You cannot properly see his eyes behind the helmet - only that bluefire suggestion, the glow of something behind the ornate visor - but in your time as a handmaiden of the Tsaritsa, you have grown used to the sensation of being looked at, and that is certainly what he is doing. 

“I intend to do this properly.” He tells you, with the door still open, with the Fatui soldiers who had accompanied him still stationed outside of the door listening to every word that he says. “I intend to make you mine in the eyes of the Tsaritsa and everyone else who matters.” 

You think once more of the altar; you think of your uniform of pure white furs, traded for something lacier and gauzier, something more of a wedding gown than a ritual dress. You think of being chained to this man for all eternity--

And though he has been kind to you in these few brief moments, though your Archon had said she wished to see no harm come to you . . . once more, you think of Capitano’s reputation. Of the war fields and the bloodshed, of his victories and his spoils, of the way you have heard he throws himself into conflict like it is the only thing that keeps his blood pumping through his veins. 

But you cannot say a thing. 

“Tomorrow,” he tells you, and he says the word like a sacred thing - a prayer on his breath. “Tomorrow, I will marry you, and I will take you home.”

He does not leave his words in a question; there is no space for you to reply. You swallow your protestations as he stands back up and bows his head like a gentleman, though you know he is stained with blood in a way you had never expected to be yourself. 

(You think of his hand on yours; imagine bloody fingerprints where he had clung to you. Marked. Soiled. No longer pristine and pure; no longer one of the Tsaritsa’s favourites. You stand upon the precipice of becoming something else, and it terrifies you). 

“Tomorrow,” you echo, but the door has already closed behind him. 

iii.

You cannot sleep. 

The bed is fine; finer, perhaps, than the one in your dormitory that you have slept on for decades. The blankets and coverlets, with their pretty patterns, are warm (warmer than you are used to; the handmaidens are kept close to Her Majesty, and coldness permeates the air wherever she dwells. You had not realised just how cold you were used to being until you had slipped into this bed in a guest-room of the place you thought of as your home).

But your mind will not quieten. 

You cannot stop thinking of Capitano, and all that his future entails; cannot stop the whisper of his voice, constrained as it is by his helm, when he says the word ‘home’. What is a home for you, now? At this moment in time, ousted from Her Majesty’s Service and not yet yoked to the first-ranked Harbinger, you are a creature that has nowhere to lay down their roots. 

If you slipped out of this room, and out into the cold Snezhnayan winter . . . you would be another nameless person, another corpse frozen to a block of ice. You have not been out amongst the general populace in some time - that is not a duty that befits one of the handmaidens - but what memories you do have, before six, remind you that you would hardly be the first. Indeed, finding some poor soul frozen into the next life is an occurrence that happens to all citizens of Snezhnaya, eventually. 

A memory rises unbidden to the forefront of your mind; another child, who looks like you but older, concentration writ clear on their face as they try and unbend fingers from a poor man rimmed with frost with lips of pale blue. An older woman, shouting - a sickening snap--

You squeeze your eyes shut and force the memory away. There is nothing, you remind yourself, before the Tsaritsa’s tender care. If there ever was, it has gone the way of snowstorms and blizzards; there is no use remembering. It has been so long that all of the figures in your memories, too, are perhaps no better than markers in the frozen ground. 

If you cannot sleep, you tell yourself forcefully, you are not going to allow yourself to be haunted by nightmares of your own making. You will lie here, in this lovely little room. You will let yourself think of the warmth that seeps into your bones; you will let yourself remember it. 

One final night; the first night you can truly remember where you are free. 

And as for what tomorrow holds - as for the thought of standing beside Capitano, as to the thought of his home - be it tent or wing of rooms or little shack or anything in between - you will not think on them. You will think of how, if you wished, you could toss and turn and no other handmaidens in the dormitory will hiss anger at you beneath their breath. How you could sing in this room, like a pretty bird, and nobody would shout for you to shut up as they throw their pillows at you.How there will be no ringing bell in the morning, no sidelong glances from your fellows who do not think you deserve to play the role you are given. 

There is blissful silence; the luxury of having a bedroom to yourself, of being an individual when you have for so long been an entity made up of so many. 

You do fall into sleep, eventually. 

You dream of being a beautiful white horse, your hooves leaving distinct prints in the snow, blending alone into the barren landscape of your homeland. 

When you awake, there is a dress hanging on the wardrobe opposite the bed. 

You do not question it; how they found time for your measurements, who made it, whether it is Capitano’s design. Your training does not fail you; things happen, and you must accept them. The easy freedom of last night is gone, and the weight of what you are to become settles like a mantle around your shoulders. 

It is still service, you tell yourself, as you bathe in the little basin in the adjoining room. The soaps and potions that are lined neatly up on shelves are scented like something fresh and clean and floral; the kind of flower that makes you think of rolling hills and ticklish breezes. The handmaidens used toiletries scented with spearmint and frostflower, as the Tsaritsa had chosen - you wonder if these bottles here are the choice of your betrothed, or merely coincidence. 

You perform your ablutions and ignore the fact that you are preparing yourself for something you do not fully understand. If you stop to think too hard upon what it is you are primping and preening for, you do not know if you will be able to keep the thread of your calm - as it is, your hands are shaking when you step into the gown left for you. 

It is undoubtedly a wedding gown. 

It is not cut in the Snezhnayan fashion; there is no trimming of pale blue diamonds, of furs or feathers or warmth. This is the gown of a beloved maiden in a tower; something to be worn whilst dreaming of gardens, all pretty eyelet lace and delicate embroidery. Wearing it, after being so used to the garb of one of Her Majesty’s attendants, feels almost like being naked. 

There is nothing for your hair; you leave it unbound. There is no other ornamentation; you suppose, when you think about it, your glimpses of Capitano have never suggested him to be a man of excess. If it were one of the others you were to wed - Pantalone, perhaps - you have no doubt you would be draped in jewels. 

If it were Pantalone that you were to be wed to, you think, he would not have been satisfied with a mere ceremony, rushed through the next day. You know from gossip he is a man who thinks he deserves better than the world has given him, that he would never take less than excess. A brief gladness that it is not the Regrator that your Archon has given you to flashes across your mind--

And then you remember Capitano, the size of him, the mystery of what lays behind his mask, and you swallow the lump in your throat. 

There is a serving maid at the door, holding a bunch of flowers in her hand - they are delicate things, white petalled and lovely, scattered with pink roses. You breathe in the scent to calm yourself and recognise them as the same scent that lingers on your skin and in your hair - and the serving maid gives you a small, nervous smile. 

“They’re Cecilias,” she tells you. “from Mondstadt. The Captain asked for them specifically.” 

She says his name in the same way so many of the citizens of Zapolyarny Palace do; with respect, and reverence. There is none of the fear that edges those who whisper of other Harbingers in her voice - you have heard horror in the tones of those who speak of Dottore, the Doctor . . . But Capitano seems to command awe and respect. You want it to be comforting - but you cannot help but wonder if it is merely that those who know his true nature are quieted by his sword. 

“Thank you,” you say, for you cannot make your voice shape any other words. Your tongue has grown leaden in your mouth, the moisture gone from it completely, and you know the thing that has sapped your ability to speak is fear. She gives you another smile, and looks at you in your gown. 

“You’re beautiful,” she says to you, as if to reassure; perhaps misunderstanding your terror of your bridegroom as the normal nerves of someone about to tie their life to someone else’s in matrimony. The whispers of your dismissal have had time to grow their own stories, after all; few things move faster than gossip in a place like this. “Come. We shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

You’re helpless to do anything but let her lead you. The hem of your gown trails on the floor behind you, but the Palace is spotless; it does not gather dust or dirt. You pass through the halls like a ghost, and you wonder if that is how you look. 

As a handmaiden, you had moved with purpose, with the assurance that you were Somebody. As the betrothed of a Harbinger, you move like somebody sentenced to execution, your heart pounding in your throat. The halls seem silent around you. You wonder, if given the chance to do it all again, how you would stop all of this so you would not find yourself in this position, walking to what could very well be your own doom. 

“Here,” the serving maid whispers, stopping by a door. You look at it with dumb terror in your heart, but you keep your face an impassive mask as you have been taught to do. You know where you are; you know this chapel to be the Tsaritsa’s most sacred place. You have been given access only a handful of times; the handmaidens who serve your Archon here are far more senior than you. In time, you had hoped you would become one of her most trusted, one who could sit with her in prayer in this private sanctuary--

You suppose that is a dream that will never come to fruition now. 

You give her a smile - a trembling thing, but you have been taught how to behave - and as she opens the chapel door for you, you square your soldiers and summon all of the courage you have (what little there is; courage is not a thing that is encouraged amongst the handmaidens, amongst those who must move and act as one), and you place one foot in front of the other as you begin your walk down the aisle. 

You tell yourself you will not look at the pews - hewn of glass, the more to resemble the Tsaritsa’s beloved ice - but as you begin a walk that feels as though it lasts forever, you cannot help it. The chapel is still a sanctuary; it is almost empty, in fact, but for a few faces sitting at the very front. 

The Tsaritsa herself presides, and you immediately lower your eyes to the ground. You have seen her before, of course - have tended to her when called - but it would not be proper of you to stare. She is still your Archon. Your fingers tremble where they are wrapped around your bouquet. 

Capitano stands, as patient and as still as a massive statue, at the altar. He is dressed still in his armour; the only concession he has made to the idea of a wedding is a buttonhole tucked into his chest, of matching roses and Cecilias to your own. You can see that burning bluefire from across the room, and as you walk closer and closer to it you are hit by the urge to laugh at the thought that perhaps you are simply walking into hellfire. 

And a few other familiar faces fill the first row; that is Pierro, you know. The Director. He sits ramrod straight, the second-largest man in the room, his cloak serving to highlight the severe lines of his face. There is The Knave, too - in her beautifully-cut suit. There is the smallest smile playing on her lips, as she looks from you to Capitano and back again. 

Not all of the Harbingers have come to see this spectacle - you are silently glad of the absence of the Doctor - but there are enough there that you feel sweat prickle down your spine, gathering in the small of your back. You force yourself to swallow and to breathe. This chapel’s aisle has never felt so long before. 

But even though it feels as though the aisle will never end, end it does - too soon, too quickly, and you are at the end of your last walk as somebody free and unmarried. You are standing beside Capitano, ready to pledge yourself to him as your Archon has demanded you do. 

You wonder if he is smiling beneath the helmet. Your own face, you’re sure, must have the look of a deer staring down a bow and arrow; wide, frightened, terribly aware suddenly of its own mortality. But there is nothing a doe can do when she is a hunter’s quarry, and there is nothing you can do now either. 

So you say the words, after they issue forth from the Tsaritsa’s lovely voice and she commands you to repeat them. You listen to Capitano make the same oaths, his voice still a strange echo. You do not hear them, not really - but it does not matter, because they are binding in the eyes of your Archon and it is your Archon who has witnessed them being said. 

Your hand is shaking when Capitano takes it to slide the ring upon it. It is plain, too; a silver band, etched all over with some decorative scrollwork and words in a language you do not understand. 

You have never seen a marriage. The handmaidens do not do such things - they are chaste, and pure, and when they are done with the service of the Tsaritsa they remain so even when cast back to the powdery snow. But you have read books, and you know that a marriage usually ends with a kiss; a sealing of the pact that two people who love one another have made. 

You steel yourself, then, to see below Capitano’s mask. You try not to dwell on possibility; the idea of him being monstrous or disfigured or perhaps even just perfectly ordinary. You try to prepare yourself for the feel of another’s lips upon yours. 

But the Tsaritsa never decrees that it is time for Capitano to kiss his spoils. 

Indeed, Capitano takes your hand - his own like a massive claw, yours delicate and tender in his grip - and leads you back down the aisle. He does not look at you as he does it; but you have the strangest sensation that he is . . . uncomfortable, with the way that everyone is looking at him. That such pomp and circumstance is perhaps not something he would generally choose. 

In fact, when the door closes behind you - when you and he are briefly, briefly, briefly along in the corridor . . . something in him seems to unknot. He lets forth a rattling breath, his shoulders sagging just a touch, that would perhaps be invisible to any other eyes but the eyes of a frightened, lonely little mortwal who has been torn from what they thought was their purpose in life and thrown to the whims of somebody that may yet be a monster. 

“Little handmaiden,” he rumbles, from somewhere low in his chest, and you wonder if it is indeed relief that makes his tone seem almost comforting. “The formalities are done with. You are mine, and I am yours.”

He tilts his helmet, and that bluefire burning behind the visor finds your own eyes; almost imperceptibly, perhaps because he sees the terror in your gaze, he seems to soften at the edges. 

Hesitantly, he reaches out a gloved hand; just as hesitantly, he cups your face, the metal cool against the softness of your cheeks. He turns your face towards him, with a grip that you expect to be rough and possessive but is as gentle as the first layer of snow upon a shooting leaf. 

“Let’s go home,” he says. 

Home brings to mind your dormitory; the identical rows of beds, the identically dressed handmaidens, the comfort of routine. Home whispers in the back of your mind of something cooking in the oven, of a rowdy family gathered around a battered old table, of three children older than you and three children younger than you. 

You cannot return to either of those places. 

So all you can do, then, is smile for the man who could be captor or lover or liberator, but is now, inarguably, your husband. 

And let him lead you home. 

[thestarsarebrightertonight]

bad idea, right? // theodore nott x fem reader

part 2 for but daddy i love him!

playlist: bad idea right? - olivia rodrigo

"im sure ive seen much hotter men but i really cant remember when!"

summary: you agreed to go out with theodore nott and you did infact go on a date with him! however ever since your date with him youve been doubting your judgement.

y/n used , part 2 , gryffindor granger reader , swearing , mention of dr*gs and alcohol , not proof read

its been a week since theodore nott confronted you in that classroom. and its been a day since the date you went on with him. it was nothing too special ,just coffee in hogsmeade and overall it was great!!...except from when some guy in slytherin came over asking if theo wanted his 'weekly supply of the good stuff'.

you had almost gagged on the spot. being a muggleborn , throughout all of your muggle education you were preached about the evil of drugs. so when theodore smirked and whispered something to the guy before showing him off.....you got the ick.

and its been 24 hours since then, and youre going crazy about it.

"girls , i cant condone drug use!! that shit is fucked up!" you screeched as you paced a hole into the carpet of your shared dorm.

lavender , parvati and hermione all stared at you with concern , having listened to you panic and rant for the past half an hour.

"y/n we know! but i mean you cant even know that it was what youre thinking! cmon you were the one that protected his character like he was a saint a few days ago!!" hermione argued back, trying to calm you.

"before , i knew he was doing drugs!! WEEKLY!" you cried , collapsing onto your bed as the three girls stood up and surrounded you.

"i mean...whats so bad about that?....the gryffindor guys do it at parties all the time-" lavender started before parvati threw her a harsh glare , making her stop her scentence.

"its more about that its making me question if i really know him well enough to commit to dating him!" you groaned , face down into your pillow.

"y/n i think youre being dramatic! you like him too much and now youre scared. its okay lots of people get like that dont worry!" hermione sympathised.

you paused at this , eyes widenening at the thought that this was likely very true. you did like theodore. a lot. maybe more than you found comfortable. and now you were finding a way to shut out the overwhelming feelings.

at this epiphany you sat up , eyes wide and mouth dropped open.

"youre right mione. i think im gonna take a small distance from him and...firgure it out!.... yeah... figure it out.." you mumbled quietly as you got up from your bed , your friends staring at you wearily , "i mean theres always hotter guys out there and it was always a bad idea...right?".

you looked at your friends with red cheeks and a hesitant expression , they stared back as you took slow steps towards the door before bolting out of it , running down the stairs before they can stop you.

"y/n-!" parvati shouted trying to stop you before the girls stood in stunned silence , "ive never seen someone change mood and mind so quickly..."

"shes going to avoid him , isnt she?" lavander said knowingly as the other two girls noddly grimly.

"yeah...she definetly is." hermione sighed.

----

and that you did! youve been avoiding theodore nott like the plague for three whole days and it was driving everyone around you insane.

ron. he had been walking with you in the corridors , slowly commuting to potions when you eyes spotted something in the distance with great suprise and terror. the next second you sprinted the way you and ron had come from. leaving ron extremely confused and left to walk to potions alone , and getting points taken off by snape when he was the only late person.

harry. you swore that you would watch him practice quidditch and give him pointers on how to improve his technique - you were the old gryffindor seaker before you quick months after joining. but after finding out slytherin and gryffindor were sharing the pitch that day , you never bothered to show up. harry was mad at you for days , knowing the reason was your avoidance of theodore. yet you denied it and said you were ill.

hermione. you were studying with hermione in the library , both of you equally focused on the task at hand , until you perked up at the sound of a deep familiar voice walking towards you and hermiones area of the library. you gasped in suprise before ducking under the table , spilling a pot of ink in the process all over hermione pages. she gasped also , but in pure horror , and thankfully was able to cast a spell to clean the ink before being distracted by someone standing infront of the table you were studying on.

theodore. if anyone could be described as going insane at your constant avoidance , it was theo himself. he had been practically ripping his hair out everytime you avoided his eyes , or walked in the opposite direction when he approached. of course he had noticed , there wasnt a single moment he didnt notice you. and every time you left or ran away , he became more and more desperate.

so now he stands infront of you sister in the library , fist clenched in the deep desperation to see you; to know what he did wrong.

"where is she granger." he said through gritted teeth.

"nott , im actually quite busy cleaning the ink off me , so a little more context to who 'she' is would be great in this moment!" hermione argued in a annoyed tone as the smoothed down her recovering parchment.

"y/n!" theodore replied in more of a shout , making hermione jump and loud hushes echo through the library in response.

"oh!...oh...shes right h- ow!" hermione screeched as you hit her from under the table shaking your head furiously , "yknow what ive had enough of this , you WILL talk to the boy and you WILL sort this out. everyone is sick out it y/n so come out NOW!"

hermione pure fury and demanding tone made you cower at your older sister , before slowly coming out from under the table with deep embrassament.

theo watched as you came out and stood infront of him , head down , "theodore-".

you words were cut short as he grabbed your wrist and dragged you out of the library , avoiding your protests and tugging.

he dragged you in the same manner , through the dungeons and through the slytherin common room , until you reached what you supposed to be his dorm.

then he pushed you infront of him , the back of your legs hitting the wood of a bed frame as you stumbled for balance , watching him pace the room.

"you have to tell me what i did , please PLEASE tell me what i did because i cannot go on any longer with you avoiding me!" he stammered.

you silenty watched as he try to push out his words , the consequences of your actions setting in.

"i-..i got second thoughts-"

"WHY!" he shouted back , walking towards you.

"because - because... YOU DO THE GOOD STUFF!" you finally stammered out as he stared back , dumbfounded.

there was a short pause of silence as he blinked in confusion , "...what the fuck is the good..stuff?..."

"DRUGS!" you finally let out with a sigh of relief , like a weight had been lifted off your chest.

"you-..i-...what the fuck?!" he breathed out in shock , eyes wide , "i- i dont do fucking drugs!"

"oh yeah? then who was that boy on our date? he asked if you wanted your weekly supply nott!" you shouted, angered by his denial.

he stared into your eyes with pure confusion before seeming to peice things together in his mind , his exression dropping.

before he laughed hysterically , holding your shoulder for support.

"what...why...why are you laughing?" you asked, bewildered.

"the good stuff..is..its not drugs!" he let out between loud laughs , "its fucking chocolate!"

your jaw dropped as you stared at you bankly , "what- what do you mean?!"

"this boy in our year - in slytherin - he gets chocolate from his mum every week , he hates it and doesnt want it to go to waste every week..so he gives it to me because i really like it!" he continued to laugh through his explanation as you cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

"what-...i-..who the fuck calls chocolate the good stuff!?!" you screehced in pure shame , theodores wheezing drowing out your feelings as you begin to laugh with him.

after a few seconds of theodore collecting himself he grinned and looked you in the eyes , holding your face softly , making your breathe hitch and giggles cease , "i cant believe you actually thought that.why would i ruin my godly body with that stuff?"

you smacked his arm as he smirked and winked , both of you laughing , "i guess i just...i got scared , truthfully , i like you a lot theo and i guess i was just begging to not...falll for you."

"so you avoided me? rather than speaking to me?" his eyes saddenned as your heart shattered at the sight.

"im so sorry teddy , ive- ive never had a boyfriend before im new to this feelings and- its terrifying it really is!" you desperatly tried to reason to him , words speeding out of your mouth.

he softly ran a hand through your hair , eyes seeping with adorations as a soft smile found his lips, "i know. dont worry i get it. just...dont avoid me ever again - just talk to me, okay?"

you nodded swiftly as he smiled brightly at you.

"now...how about we lay down and just...talk. then you can really get to know me and never misjudge again..sound good?" he whispered.

"sounds like heaven." you smiled back at him , his lips finding yours much softer than your first exchange , with much more love and delicacy.

for the next few hours you did exactly that , talking and talking. you talked about everything- you even told him your favourite film , of course its the little mermaid.

[harryistheonlyoneforme]

focus*

warnings: smut, spitting, choking, squirting, throat fucking, dumbification, dirty talk, degradation, slight daddy kink, facial(ish)

pairing: dad’s best friend harry x reader

summary: in which yn keeps eyeing harry’s arms and he puts them to good use

masterlist | taglist

~

yn’s bottom lip is tucked between her teeth as she sits on the couch next to harry, trying to keep her dirty thoughts at bay. but it’s so hard when he’s sat beside her, shirtless at that, as he types away on his computer, sending angry emails to his employees. yes it’s his day off, but it just seems that there is always something that comes up when he finally relaxes.

it’s not the emails that are turning her on, not at all. it’s the fact that with each message he types with annoyed grunts and mumbles falling from his lips, she can see his biceps just flexing with each movement. she can’t even focus on her phone that’s playing some sort of video on its screen because her eyes just keep flitting over to where he sits.

her thighs are practically sewn together as her mind races, from thoughts of those biceps next to her head as he pounds deep into her in missionary, to them wrapped around her neck.

oh.

that second thought is something she should’ve thought of a long time ago. she should’ve thought of him bending her over the kitchen table with his arm wrapped around her neck, her feet barely touching the floor as he wrecks her. that thought forces a moan from her lips before she can stop it, causing harry to stop in his tracks and turn to look at her.

his first thought is that she’s hurt somehow sitting next to him, and so he takes a moment to let his eyes trail over her body. one clean sweep and then he’s meeting her eyes with raised eyebrows as he recognizes that body language. the glued thighs, the blown pupils, and not to mention the swollen lips from all the chewing. she’s been caught.

closing his laptop, he places it on the coffee table before angling his body to be able to maintain eye contact comfortably. the silence is deafening, and she wants to crawl into a hole. “are you going to tell me what that was about or do i need to force it out of you?” he’s playing no games. she just stares at him in silence as she debates whether or not she should tell him. “and tell the truth. i don’t have room in my day for lies and wasted time,” he makes sure to tell her.

she chooses her words carefully. “your arms,” she murmurs, avoiding eye contact with him and looking down to her lap. he huffs in annoyance before forcefully grabbing her jaw and making her look at him.

“what about them? don’t be stupid, i don’t have the time for the games,” he warns her before he’s letting her go and awaiting her answer.

“i was thinking about them…,” she pauses, forcing herself to say the words. “i was thinking about them wrapped around my neck when we’re in bed,” she finally finishes. the term ‘in bed’ would’ve been innocent in any other context, but he knows exactly what she means. she means she wants his arms around her neck while he fucks her.

she hears harry’s breath hitch before the room falls into silence, the lack of sound making her regret her decision to be honest with him. she could just about cry when he stands up from the couch, looking down at her lap. a few seconds later, she hears the sound of fabric hitting the floor, and from her peripheral vision she can see the shorts harry was wearing there. trailing her eyes up his legs, her eyes nearly bulge out of her head when she sees harry just stood there with his cock in his hand, hard and already leaking.

“get on your fucking knees,” his words are firm and leave no room for argument and she’s immediately scrambling off the couch and onto her knees in front of him. resting her weight on her heels, she sits there and looks up at him as she patiently awaits further instruction.

“open your mouth,” he demands, and she instantly does so, her mouth already practically salivating at the thought of him. harry just stroked himself a couple times before grabbing the back of her head and forcing her open mouth onto his cock. he immediately sets a brutal pace and begins fucking her throat with no care of the mess she’s making of them with her saliva. he continues for a minute or so, keeping a close eye on her to make sure she’s okay. with each passing second, he sees her move further and further away, until her eyes start to roll back into her head.

“fuck. that’s it, i see. all it took was my cock down your throat and now you can��t even focus. dumb little baby can’t even hold her head up, poor thing,” he firmly slaps her cheek to get her to keep her eyes on him and it works, but only for a moment, before her head is lulling right back onto his thick thigh. over the sounds of her choking on him, harry just sighs in irritation before quickly pulling his cock from her mouth and ignoring her whine of protest.

he’s then quickly grabbing her by her arms and pulling her up before pulling her sleep shorts down and off her body before pushing her onto the couch, pressing her face into the cushions. climbing up onto the couch behind her, he takes a moment to admire her and how wet she already is, her folds glistening with her arousal. he wants a closer look, though, taking his hands and spreading her ass cheeks even wider and looking at her already throbbing hole.

he can’t resist leaning down to swipe his tongue through her sodden folds, suckling on her clit for a moment before pulling away when she starts to grind against his face. she whines in frustration as he just watches her throb a bit, and then he’s letting her ass go before straightening up and taking his cock in his fist once more. crawling forward just a bit, he lines himself up with her and runs his leaking tip through her folds just to tease her a bit more before gathering some spit in his mouth and letting it land on her pussy, trailing down.

when he’s satisfied with the sight, he begins pressing himself into her hole as slowly as possible, listening to her mewls of pleasure as he stretches her tight hole. as soon as he’s deeply seated within her, he lets her adjust for a few seconds before pulling out until his tip is resting at her entrance and pushing back in just as deep as before. “is this what you wanted? for me to stop my work and fuck you like a whore? do you like daddy’s arm around your neck?” he grunts, letting her wails of pleasure as well as the sounds of their skin slapping spur him on.

she can only yell out a chorus of broken agreements, her nails clawing at the leather couch cushions and tears beginning to fall from her eyes at the pleasure. he’s fucking her at what seems like an unfathomable speed to her, each drag of his thick cock along her walls pushing her closer and closer to the edge. she can’t even give him a warning due to her wordless babbles, but he understands.

he doesn’t only understand, he decides to make it even better. stopping for just a moment, he ignores the sound of annoyance that comes from her and sits up to rest on his heels before pulling her up as well. wrapping his arm back around her throat, he begins to fuck into her from below before reaching around her body with his free hand and honing in on her clit.

she hadn’t thought it could get any better, but as soon as he started fucking her so deeply in tandem with the tight circles around her clit, she felt like she could explode. and that she did. after no more than ten seconds more of the intense pleasure she’s experiencing, her body tenses and a yell of relief falls from her lips as her orgasm takes over. as it wracks her body, though, harry switches from just a few fingers on her clit to his whole hand, rubbing the sensitive bud quickly. that sends her into a whole other realm, and she feels her body relax before she can register what’s going on and then they both hear and feel her orgasm drench the leather cushions below them.

this whole time, harry has not stopped fucking her, and soon her head is lulling to the side as she lets him take her even more. “fuck, i’m close,” he chokes, still feeling the aftermath of her orgasm as she flutters around him, milking him for all he’s worth. “where do you want it?” he manages to ask, staving off his orgasm just long enough for her answer. his question basically brings her back to life and she’s pushing her self up on her hands as she answers.

“please, want it in my mouth,” she whines, and he’s immediately pulling his throbbing cock from her and standing up beside the couch before forcing her onto her knees.

“open,” he breathes, chest heaving as he looks down at her. she immediately obliges, sticking her tongue out of her mouth and tipping her head back just slightly, and then harry is quickly jerking his cock in front of her face. “don’t you dare fucking move, fucking shit!” he gasps as his orgasm finally takes over, nearly knocking the wind out of his chest from the intensity. warm spurts shoot from his tip and onto her awaiting tongue and he’s just groaning above her as he empties himself for her.

she takes everything he has to offer, watching his biceps and abs contract as he keeps stroking himself a over her. by the time he’s finished, he’d tongue is coated and some of his cum is even dribbling down her chin. reaching forward, he grabs her neck and keeps her still before gathering some of his saliva and spitting right into her open mouth, humming in satisfaction when she keeps it there without him having to tell her. he lets go and just watches her for a moment, loving to see her struggle to keep her tongue out. “swallow,” he commands and she’s instantly closing her mouth and letting the mixture of cum and spit go down her throat.

~

[11vr1]

Still Yours ⭒ Miles Morales

Part one: Been Away

Synopsis › You’re still his. You just need a little reminder.

Pairing › Earth-42! Miles Morales x Reader

Inspo › “Still Yours (feat. Big Sean)” - Bryson Tiller, Big Sean

Includes › ATSV SPOILERS, angst, fluff, swearing, Spanish, toxicity, going back to your ex, man has a staring problem, stalking, mentions of violence, manhandling i think?, kissing, terrible grammar, maybe some continuity errors (don’t think about it too hard)

P.S. › I had to write this part on my phone because my house has no wi-fi. Forgive me.

You were a vision as your head threw back in laughter at something your friend said. Absolute perfection in the way your uniform fits in all the right places and the gentle swoop of your edges framing your glowing skin in the harsh fluorescent lighting. It was aggravating. “When did she get that?” Miles’ rich eyes narrowed at you and your group of friends.

His best friend looked up from his phone in your direction. He didn’t need to ask who she was. “Get what?” he sighed, already sensing where this conversation was headed.

“Her lipgloss.” He tilted his head. “It’s Fenty.”

Ganke couldn’t remember when Miles became a makeup enthusiast, but he knew he was a Y/n expert. “And how do you know that?” he asked in disbelief. Their lunch periods had turned into a sort of Y/n watching session since your mysterious separation. He was over it and tired of watching his friend not-so-subtly stare at his not-ex-girlfriend. It was sad and getting a little creepy.

“It’s her favorite brand, but the shade’s darker. She’s never worn it before.” Miles’ food was left untouched, too preoccupied with the sight of you. You must’ve been doing this on purpose, he thought. Sitting directly in his eye line with your annoying ass group of friends. And Drew Harris, Brooklyn Vision’s resident dickhead jock, sat a little too close to you.

Ganke shrugged, turning back to his game. “I don’t know, man. It looks like the one she always wears.”

Miles tore his gaze away to face Ganke. His eyes hardened to an icy glare. “Why do you know what color she usually wears?”

“Chill, dude,” he rolled his eyes. “This break up is actually making you go insane.”

“We didn’t break up,” he snapped, but who was he fooling? Ganke was spot on. Miles was increasingly on edge, waiting. He’d texted and called multiple times since last weekend when finally spoke to you for the first time in weeks. But you didn’t respond or pick up. At this rate you were going to block him…again. Just when he thought everything was piecing itself back together, you slipped away out of his reach.

Ganke stood up with his trash. He had better things to do than watch his best friend run himself to the ground over a girl who obviously wanted nothing to do with him. “Broken up or taking a break, either way you’re miserable. You need to figure your shit out or move on before you burn a hole in the side of her head.”

Miles waved him off, not showing his words struck a chord. Moving on wasn’t an option. You were on his mind twenty four hours a day, seven days a week without fail. The thought of you waiting for him safe and sound kept him alive while he committed every crime in the book. Everything he did was for you, to keep you protected in this twisted city. Nothing was going to ruin his forever, not even you.

⋆

“Why not Drew?” Ellie suddenly asked while they walked the halls away from the cafeteria. You could tell she was enjoying having you back with their friends. “He’s all over you. You guys would be perfect,” she gushed, practically skipping across the tile.

You gave her a stern look, “Ellie.” You hated to burst her bubble, but she was too eager for you to be single. “I’m not interested in Drew Harris.”

“Okay, picky,” she hummed in thought for a moment. “Erik Falls? He’s on the basketball team and I heard he thinks you’re gorgeous,” she tried again. You stopped at Ellie’s locker. You weren’t going to ask where she heard such a rumor or why it seemed she had a mental list of the single male population.

You shook your head. A new relationship was the last thing on your mind. Miles was it for you, the one who made your heart sing, the man who made you believe you could be loved like in the stories. No one could compare, especially not a couple of immature jocks who would eventually become mere blimps in the timeline of your life. If only there wasn't a plot twist. “Despite what you think, I am more than happy being single. A new man is not on my list of priorities.”

“If you say so. You’ve just been so down since…” Ellie’s wide eyes briefly glanced over your shoulder. “I thought you and Miles weren’t together anymore?” her voice lowered to a sharp whisper.

Your response stalled, caught off guard by the question. Did Ellie know you and Miles had spoken? You didn’t want to imagine what kind of hell would be unleashed if she found out. “Of course not,” you forced a laugh. “Why?”

“Don’t look, but he’s at your locker!” she scowled, tossing her books back into her locker. “Don’t worry, girl. I got this.” Ellie pulled the earrings from her lobes along with her stack of bracelets, mumbling something about the “little creep.” She never hid her distaste for Miles, the two bumping heads more than once the duration of your relationship.

Against your better judgment, you looked, but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it. Miles Morales leaned against your locker like he owned it. With his shirt untucked and tie loosened, he never failed to make the butterflies in your stomach flutter.

You stopped her before she stalked off in a fury. “Hold on, let me talk to him. I’m sure it’s nothing.” You didn’t even sound convincing to yourself.

Ellie drummed her fingers, lips pursed as she looked between you and the boy over your shoulder, skepticism written all over her face. “Fine, go ahead, Y/n. But I swear if he tries anything, I’m coming for his ass,” she pointed, making sure to shoot him a steely glower.

“I’ll be alright,” you assured her, already walking away.

You finally approached Miles, rolling your eyes at the enigmatic smirk on his lips. “You ignoring me, ma?” He asked, his gaze never leaving your face as you fiddled with the combination on your locker. “I thought we was good.”

“I wasn’t ignoring you, Miles. I just…” you struggled to explain without sounding like you were in fact avoiding him. Did he really think cornering you in an alley would fix everything? “I still needed a bit of space.”

He was clearly unsatisfied, but held his tongue. Instead he nodded his head. “Let’s take a walk, princesa.”

“I can’t,” you stuttered out, unable to trust yourself around Miles. Ignoring his messages took everything in you, so used to spending hours of your day spamming him with the most trivial things when you weren’t together.

“Yes you can. You have a free period.” Of course he had your schedule memorized. Nothing could get past Miles. He entwined your fingers in his, enveloping you with the rough calluses of his palms and dragging you through the halls without care for the curious stares directed your way.

The usual commotion of the city hit your ears as Miles swung open the rooftop door. Fond memories of your favorite meet up spot came flooding back, the late nights Miles would help you study for a Spanish test or when he simply wanted to sit in silence and bask in your presence. You’d fallen in love here over and over again, the stars and city skyline your only witness.

Miles had yet to release you from his hold, savoring your touch after being starved for so long.

He wasn’t going to let you go, not when you were finally where you belonged. “We need to talk.”

“We’re talking now, aren’t we?” No one wanted to hear those dreaded four words.

Your attempt at humor was not appreciated. His grip squeezed your hands in a gentle, but firm warning. “I’m done playin’ your little games, mami. This back and forth shit ain’t gon’ work. I need you to be straight with me.”

The impending weight of the conversation began to settle on your shoulders. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Miles. That I’m totally fine with you being the Prowler and everything can go back to normal?” You avoided his gaze, choosing the cerulean sky knowing his gaze could pull whatever he wanted from you if you dared to stare too long. “You lied to me for the better part of our relationship. Where you go, what you’re doing, who you are and if you’re okay, like really okay. I can’t trust you!”

Too much had been broken for you to go back. And you tried! Lord knows you fucking tried. You hid your tears when Miles missed a date, coming up with some lame excuse. Or the days he’d return and couldn’t bear to look you in the eye. Your mind turned to the worst. Doubt festered where trust should have been. But you held on just as fast as Miles held onto you now.

Now you know the reality and it scared you more than any possibility you came up with.

Miles listened to the cracks in your pretty voice, seeing the damage he caused. He never hated himself more. Ripping out throats and cracking skulls he could stand, but the sight of those crystal tears nearly broke him. “Mi corazón...” A large pad tenderly wiped a droplet from the smoothness of your cheeks. “Lo siento.”

“Say what you have to say, Morales. You can’t keep wasting my time.” You forced yourselves apart to furiously rid the traitorous tears. He didn’t deserve them.

“‘A waste of time?’” he repeated incredulously. Miles grabbed your left wrist, tugging down the sleeves of your navy blazer to reveal the golden bracelet you wore and its various charms. The cursive “M” dangled in your face, mocking you and your devotion to him. “Is that what this is?” He fished the delicate chain from beneath his own uniform where he wore your name closest to his heart. “Are you done with me? Was all this pointless to you, Y/n?” he nearly shouted, doing his best to keep what little composure he had left.

The answer had never been more simple. “No, of course not,” you said. “I don’t regret loving you. I just can’t keep loving half of you when you already have all of me.”

Shock filled the silence between you. “You love me?”

“Yes, dumbass!” You pushed against his chest. He didn’t budge, too stunned to breathe properly. “I know you won’t say it back but I don’t care. You should already know.”

Miles cradled your head and leaned down, your noses touching, sharing the same air. “Say it again,” he ghosted your lips.

Your knees weakened, his heat creating a haze of solely him in your mind. You studied the gentle contours of his face, the fullness of his lips, the healed scar on the edge of his right brow, someone only as close as you could see. An inch was all you needed to think, but you were snatched back. “Miles,” you gasped in surprise, steadying yourself in his arms. Through layers of fabric, you felt the rapid rhythm of Miles' heart and you were positive he could feel yours.

“Dilo de nuevo,” he commanded, pressing your body against his in a vice and yet you were still too far. “Por favor, para mi.”

“I love you,” you began, but Miles cut you off as he eradicated the damned space between you. Your mouth parted, the taste of spice and uniquely him familiar, like loving Miles was a reflex you’d always succumb to.

You relented to your need to breathe, still cradling Miles’ face in your hands. “Te amo también, mi corazón.” You never thought he would return the words and you’ve never been happier to be wrong. “Let me do it right this time. Be mine again. No more secrets, no more lies. Prometo.”

One chance was all Miles needed to gain access to your heart. You should have kept his number blocked, called the police like you threatened to do, but his determination was endless. He wanted you and here you were in his embrace saying, “I’ll always be yours, Miles.” You reached on your toes to steal another kiss, consuming as much of him as you desired. The pink of his tongue peeked out as he licked the sticky glitter from his lips. You moved to wipe the remaining gloss about to apologize before he took your mouth again, his teeth teasing the delicate skin.

“It is new.”