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tsumtsumrry · 10 months ago

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Second Visit

the long-awaited heavily requested part two of Doctor's Orders

WC: 3.4k

warning(s): afab descriptions and she/her pronouns, language, casual dominance, sexual content (fingering and f receiving oral sex), extremely inappropriate relationship with gynecologist (remember this is only fiction!)

finally decided to finish the draft that i loved but's been sitting in a google doc for like months. i really hope you guys enjoy it. i’m always a lover of feedback. 🤍🤍🤍

Your chest is pumping rapidly as you fight through your nerves. Last time you were in this exact seat, you had no idea what was to come. And now that you do, it’s all you can think about. Truthfully since then, it’s all you’ve been able to think about. Day and night your head replays the image, sounds, and the feeling of him. The phantom of his fingers deep inside you, hitting every spot that you hadn’t known existed, tortures you every time you can get a moment to yourself.

He’s your doctor. It even feels wrong to think about it, but something about it feeling wrong feels so damn right.

You return to the familiar feeling of picking at your fingers to quell your nerves as your head and your body fight each other for what you should do next. You came here on a mission, you wanted him. You needed him. There isn’t even anything wrong with you, realistically you shouldn’t even be here. But it felt like you were going through withdrawal symptoms. His touch was like a psychedelic drug. The kind of feeling that leaves you feeling like you’re seeing the world through a kaleidoscope exploding with colors and euphoria. And since you’ve felt it once, you don’t think you can ever go back.

The door opens and your heart drops, thinking it’s the lady coming out to call your name, but what you see is arguably much scarier.

Dr. Styles, looking down at his phone as he holds open the door for the nurse behind him with his left arm. He smiles and a small chuckle leaves his lips as he reads whatever is on his phone, the dimples that pop in his cheeks nearly make you melt and you try your best not to look at him before he notices you.

In all your nerves, you don’t realize your purse is slipping off of your lap. Before you can stop it, it tumbles off of your lap and falls to the floor with an audible crash. Your eyes fall shut in embarrassment and you open them just in time to see his head snap up in confusion and then soften in recognition.

You nearly hold your breath as a sly smile graces his face and he walks over to you. As soon as he reaches you, he kneels so he’s at eye level with your stomach, using your knee as support, and begins to pick up your bag and the things that fell out of it. Even just the simple touch of his hand on your knee makes a zip of electricity course through your body right to your core. You take in a shaky breath and the lightning strikes in the same place twice when he looks up at you to speak, “Hi honey…back so soon? Everything okay?” His hand remains on your knee as he speaks, still kneeling before you as his piercing green eyes bore into yours.

“I um…” Your brain fails to send the necessary signals to your mouth as you look at him and he frowns. He assumes that you might be embarrassed to talk about it in front of everyone else in the waiting room. His eyebrows furrow while the look in his eyes intensifies with concern, he clicks his tongue and pushes himself to stand up, “Let’s go talk in my office, sweetheart.”

It feels like you’re operating on auto-pilot as he walks the two of you to his office, his hand resting on the small of your back. Your mind swims with the things he could do to you when you get in there, you wonder if he’ll use his fingers again, or his mouth, maybe he’ll put you out of your misery and let you have all of him. You’d take anything that he gives you, you’re that desperate.

He sits you down on the chair in his office, and stands in front of you, maintaining that piercing eye contact. The deep, tingly feeling in your tummy swells when he offers you a comforting grin. “Wha’s the matter, honey. You know you can tell me, always.”

It’s a certain degree of embarrassing how much you’ve thought about him since you’ve last been here. And you aren’t an idiot, it occurred to you that maybe the only reason you were so hung up on him was that you missed somebody else’s touch in general. So you ventured out, tried to meet someone and have a casual hookup, you followed through, and they disappointed. Dr. Styles felt like he was on another level, completely in tune with your pleasure and what you needed. He played your body as if it were an instrument and he was the most talented musician in the world.

You don’t realize that you are lost in your thoughts until you hear the soft timbre of his voice again, “hm? Talk to me.”

You take a deep breath and try your absolute hardest not to stumble through your words, but they almost feel like poison as they leave your lips. Shyness has always been a considerable part of your nature and it doesn’t help that the most intimidating man in the world is standing in front of you, staring intensely at you with those deep green eyes. “It’s just um…ever since my last appointment, I’ve been like–I think–” you grumble in frustration and a wave of hot embarrassment tinges your cheeks. You look down at your worn fingers, breaking eye contact. You’re afraid that if you looked at him any longer you might die.

A small chuckle leaves his lips and he sighs softly. Somehow, your heart begins to beat impossibly faster when he leans off of his desk to approach you. You keep your head down, unable to look him in the eye again and you attempt to control your shaky breathing.

Your breath stutters and then stops when he hooks his index finger under your chin to regain your eye contact. Your eyes flutter closed briefly. God, you’ve missed that soft touch. It feels as if your body has finally come back to life after being dormant since you two have been apart. You have to fight back a sated sigh as his thumb begins to stroke your chin softly and you wish you dared to tell him to just fuck you already.

His fingers squeeze your chin with a deliberate grip and your eyes quickly open. You’ve noticed that he enjoys eye contact, thrives on it. He likes to see you get nervous for him, he likes to see you fall apart. He derives pleasure from the way you can barely look at him without breaking, so he forces you to break. And truth be told, you love it. You’d break for him any day.

“Look at me when we’re speaking, honey. Just breathe. Then be my good girl and use your words. You know I can’t help you unless you use that pretty mouth and talk to me, yeah?” He punctuates his words when his thumb brushes against your lip in delicate strokes. You honestly have no idea where he got the insane idea that you can even think, much less form words when he’s touching you like that.

When you just stare at him, with a pathetic longing look in your eyes, his fingers come down to squeeze your chin again, only this time much firmer, “Speak. Don’t make me ask you again, sweetheart.”

“S-sorry I just…I’ve missed you.” Is all you’re able to string together, it sounds incredibly stupid out loud but you have a feeling he knows exactly what you mean. His eyebrows raise before they relax back down and his grip on your chin loosens back to gentle.

“Oh baby, don’t apologize. You’ve missed me, hm? Mind telling me what exactly it is that you’ve missed?” his expression morphs into a teasing smirk as he rolls his lips inside his mouth. His eyes read like he knows exactly what you’ve missed, but he just wants to hear you say it.

His gaze is intense as he reads your expression carefully, analyzing you for any signs that you might not want what he thinks you want. He traces his gaze from your eyes to your mouth, the delicate pout you wear almost makes him melt right in the spot he stands in. From the moment he saw you he thought that you were one of the most beautiful women he’s ever seen. It’s like all of your unique features perfectly coexist in a teasing harmony. It makes him weak.

It takes a lot out of you, but you’re able to tell him exactly what you missed. When he hears you, his jaw clenches, he maintains eye contact and you force yourself to keep looking no matter how much your anxiety is screaming at you to look away. For a second you wonder if you’ve done something wrong with the way he’s just looking at you, making no move to touch you and give you what you need, but that worry is melted away quickly when he speaks again.

He offers his hand out to you with a blank expression. Albeit confused, you place your hand in his. His dimples pop in his cheeks at your almost demure nature and he smirks softly, “Show me. Show me where it hurts, honey. Take my hand and show me.” His voice is smooth like toffee, filled with a syrupy heat that makes your panties pool.

His eyes migrate to the silky smooth skin of your thighs, suddenly grateful that you wore a skirt today so he could admire your beauty and have easy access to give you what he knows you’re so desperate for.

Tremors plague your hand as you slowly guide him to your throbbing core. The tension in the room is palpable, it’s so quiet that the only sounds in the room are Harry’s soft but strained breathing and your erratic breaths.

When his fingertips finally reach your clothed warmth he groans in appreciation. Truth be told, he missed you too. “Fuck, atta girl. So good for me, aren’t you?” Your eyes flutter closed in relief and you nod mindlessly. It’s incredible how he can completely remove any thoughts other than himself or his touch from your mind so easily. And he’s so casual about it too, so nonchalant about the way he pulverizes your brain and turns you into a brainless toy, just for him.

“How many times have you thought about this since the last time, honey? How many times were you knuckle deep in this needy cunt wishing that it was me instead? Tell me.” His fingers brush against your entrance and he slowly pushes two fingers in, pulsing them against your spot as soon as he finds it just to see you shudder. The gruffness of his voice accompanied by the gentle mocking tone makes your brain melt even further, your eyes roll back and you hear him chuckle at your lack of response.

“Mm, honey.” He mocks. “Already? S’already too much for you, baby?” you can feel him slipping his fingers out as he speaks, and the utter dread you feel knowing that the empty feeling you’ve been plagued with is going to come back makes you want to cry, and you know how truly pathetic that is, but you can’t find it in yourself to really care. He pulls his fingers out gently, bringing them up to his mouth to wrap his lips around them and suck needily.

“N-no no, please. Please?” you’re too shy to vocalize exactly what you’re begging for, but you know he knows. Harry always knows exactly what you need.

“See tha’s your problem. You’re not too keen on using your words. And we’re gonna fix that right now.” Without much of a warning, his fingers are back inside you. You choke on a harsh gasp that melts right into a moan when he begins to fuck you relentlessly with them, targetting your spot and ruining you from the inside out. His other hand comes into play when he places two fingers on your clit and rubs it in tantalizing circles.

Harry’s knees land on the floor when his face becomes level with your cunt, he leans in and lets his eyes flutter closed as if he’s savoring the smell of you, “I need to taste you, baby. You smell so fuckin’ good.”

A slew of rushed and needy pleas leave your mouth as you stumble over whiney moans, “please, Doct—” his eyes snap up to meet your gaze, and his eyebrows furrow in disapproval, “Harry. Please, Harry.”

The tone of your voice when you say his name sends a zip of electricity down to his confined cock and a needy moan of appreciation leaves his lips as they finally make contact with your core, planting a searing kiss at your entrance.

He groans like he’s relieved, like he’s finally getting what he’s been starving for for so long. You can’t help the way that feeds your ego. He’s been wanting you, needing you, yearning for you. “Tastes so good, baby. D’you know how good you taste?” he whispers.

“Speak.” His other hand plants a small tap on your thigh, not hard enough to really hurt, but intentional enough to serve as a warning.

“N-no.” You mumble.

“No?” you almost want to cry again as he pulls his fingers out and that dreaded empty feeling returns. His eyes are locked on how wet you’ve got his fingers like he’s in a trance and you swear you almost hear him sigh in contentment. He snaps out of his reverie and looks up at you, when he sees a pout he shushes you softly and brings his fingers up to your lips. He taps them there once before you part them like the good girl he knows you are. His fingers slowly enter your mouth and you suck softly on them almost as if it’s out of instinct, “atta girl” he praises lowly.

“See? So good.” He starts to nod and like his brainless toy, you nod with him. Taking in every cue of his praise that you can grasp.

You don’t even realize his fingers are inching back down to your core until a gasp rips through your throat and they’re inside you again, his mouth back on your clit like it never left. He’s greedy as he devours you. He drinks you in and takes you like he needs it to breathe. Honestly, you’re not even sure he is breathing right now. But he doesn’t seem to care, he just keeps going, keeps flicking his tongue softly on your clit and fucking his tongue into you, holding your hip with one hand to make sure that you can’t get away.

And last time, when it was just his fingers, it felt perfect. He pushed you just enough for you the feel that mind-breaking bliss that you’ve been chasing since your last visit. But now, with his perfect tongue and his perfect fingers making you feel so fucking perfect. It’s almost too much.

“Fuck, Harry. S’too–too much.”

“Mm-mm” He groans disapprovingly, “I know baby, I know it feels a little too good honey but you can take it. I know you can take it.”

He starts to go harder as if you’re not about to explode and the sounds that leave your lips should make you feel embarrassed, but with every stroke of his fingers and his tongue. All thoughts of reservation are gone, and you just want to lose yourself in him.

“Squeezin’ me so tight, honey. Gonna come for me? Been working so hard for it baby. Give me what I deserve. Give yourself what you deserve. Come on.” he rambles on and on as he pushes you to your peak, not offering you any kind of break from the way he’s ruining you with his fingers and his tongue. You’d think that he was the one getting head the way he was moaning against your core, the vibrations only increase the pleasure tenfold and you start to tremble through the sensations.

And when it hits you, it hits you. You shake in an almost violent way, so much so that he has to manuver his hands to hold you properly so that you don’t collapse onto the floor. His tongue parts from you so he can stand up and he lets his fingers pulse inside you to help you ride out the intense wave of pleasure that has needy whines and pathetic whimpers leaving your throat, “atta fuckin’ girl. So good for me. You’re so beautiful.” he whispers out a bunch of sweet nothings as he leaves soft kisses all over any part of exposed skin that he can find, leaving the residue of your pleasure in his wake.

You feel like you’re floating, like you’re laying on a bed of clouds and all you can comprehend is the pleasure still coursing through your veins, Harry’s soft voice, Harry’s soft kisses. It’s only now that you realize how much trouble you’re truly in, you don’t think you can go without this. It just gets better every time.

“Sweet just like honey. My honey, so fucking beautiful.” He praises. A sated smile graces your face and for a couple of moments, you forget where you are. You forget that he’s your doctor and you’re his patient and you let yourself live in the fantasy where Harry is yours and you get to come home to those hauntingly beautiful green eyes every night.

It dawns on you that this could very well be the last time, so you decide you’d like to make it count.

“Harry.” you mumble, bringing your hands up to tangle in his hair which he groans at, he closes his eyes and smiles, his head following the movement of your hands.

“Mm, yes honey?”

You really cannot chicken out now. You know that if you do you’re going to regret it. You’re never going to forgive yourself for how you had the opportunity to fuck this gorgeous man and passed it up to live the rest of your life wondering how it would’ve felt.

So no matter how hard it is for you to say, you force it out.

“Fuck me. Please.”

You almost regret it when it leaves your lips at the way he freezes up and immediately meets your pleading gaze. And then he smiles, which morphs into a teasing smirk, and you think you’ve got him, that is until he opens his mouth.

“Sweet girl. My job is to take care of you. And I did, yeah?” Your heart stings a little at the rejection but you nod nonetheless, eager to please him, “don’t need you doing me any favors, honey.

Your brows furrow at this, a favor? In what world would him fucking you be doing him a favor. If you had any less dignity you’d get on your knees right now and beg and plead for him until he gave you what you so desperately craved.

“S’not a favor. I want it….so much.” you whisper that last part. He sees your needy pout and he mirrors your expression in an almost condescending way.

“Are you telling me I haven’t taken care of you right, honey? Do you need more? Is that it? Doctor Styles need a lesson on how to treat his girl proper?” Theres a teasing lilt to his voice as he speaks, a dimple popping in his cheeks as he smirks and awaits your answer. You nod and he tsks softly, a gentle reminder for you to speak.

“No. You haven’t and I really really need more.”

“Hm. Tell you what. I’m not fucking you for the first time in my office. Ask a guy out to dinner first.” He watches your face as the small quip lands and a small chuckle leaves his lips as you roll your eyes, “but…I can pay my favorite patient a little house visit, and we can go from there.”

His squeezes your hips with firm hands and drops his head into your neck, sucking a soft mark on the exposed skin, his hips shift against yours softly and a shaky breath leaves his occupied lips, “Can’t wait. God only knows how much I need you.” he whispers the last sentence as if he’s scared to say them any louder and your eyes flutter closed at the unspoken promise of how he’s going to take care of you again, and properly this time.

He taps your hips once and leaves one last kiss on your skin, “I’ll see you then. Drive safe, looking forward to your next appointment, honey.”

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therealhousewifeofharrystyles · 8 months ago

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Harry's Home

Part IV.

Part I. Part II. Part III.

Pairing: Roommate!Harry/Roommate!Reader; Harry Styles/Curvy Reader

Word Count: ~13k words 😅 it’s been a long time comin’, babes!

🔞TW🔞: Adult Language, ‼️Unprotected Sex‼️, ‼️GRAPHIC SMUT‼️, Rough Sex, ‼️CNC‼️, ‼️Dubious Consent‼️, Daddy!Kink, ‼️Choking‼️, ‼️Degradation/Name-Calling‼️, Breeding!Kink, Spitting, ‼️Slapping‼️, Spanking, Cunnilingus, Creampie, Cum-Swapping, Cum-Fetish, 💕Fluff💕

I typically get home from work before Harry does, and so my current state of rest and relaxation—coincidentally adjacent to the book I’m holding: My Year of Rest and Relaxation—is an occurrence Harry’s used to coming home to by now. I mean, not that he’s coming home to me. He’s just…coming home, and I also happen to be living here. Speaking of which, I’m situated in my bedroom. I've already slipped into my night clothes—thin, loose pajama pants and an oversized crop tee—laying my back against the cushioned headboard of my bed.

Suddenly, my ears perk up. The hum and vibration of the garage door opening and closing pulls my attention away from the novel I’d been engrossed in for the past hour towards my empty door frame. Less than a minute later, a door slams, physically startling me, and my posture straightens as if I’m expecting a scolding. I have no reason to react this way, really. It’s not like I have Daddy Issues or anything…or even like this is something out of the ordinary…

Harry’s home…

That’s all.

But judging by the door slams, Harry’s not all sunshine and rainbows this evening. And that, as well, is not something out of the ordinary. Today is just like any other day. Nothing special. Nothing different. But for some reason, it’s as if I can feel the force of his brooding presence weighing heavily atop my chest from an entire floor away.

I’m staring dumbly at my room’s entrance. Harsh, stomping footsteps alert me of Harry’s wandering after-work routine. Even with my ears plugged, I’d still sense the undying tension between us growing as our distance lessened. My heart is pounding violently in my chest. I make the conscious decision to set my book aside on my nightstand once I realize I’ve read the same sentence 20 times.

“Hey, Bunny?! You upstairs, love?” his voice booms, and my thighs immediately squeeze together at the velvety baritone calling out for me. I’m stuck in place and now a competitive mouth-breather—I could be the final girl in a horror film. Geez, chill out, Y/N. I’ve welcomed him home a million times before, and I’ve never felt this…needy—nay—desperate. My body feels so starved. His footsteps are ascending up the stairs now.

Harry reaches our second floor and releases a deep sigh. “Mmhm?” My reply starts to flow out of me like a moan and I swallow the second half of it down in an attempt to cut it short. It’s for naught as I suck in a harsh breath immediately afterwards, sounding like I’m drowning on land. Oh, God…and I can feel a wet patch soaking through the crotch-seam of my pajamas. My nipples are poking out beyond my thin, lacy, unpadded bra, shamelessly creating peaks through my loose t-shirt. Harry suddenly appears from the depths of the hallway and stands tall at my open door. I’m maneuvering myself so that I’m sitting upright, but then the fabric slowly tugs taut over my chest, clinging to my sensitive nipples and stimulating them even more. My lips part and I can’t help the whimper that comes out of me. It’s audible enough that the man scrunches his forehead and questions my well-being once he hears it. “You alright, Bun’?” he asks, his brow arched with mild concern. I gasp, startled by his abrupt entrance, and my body instinctively recoils. My buxom breasts bounce from the action. The movement is subtle—well, as subtle as a large pair of jiggling tits can be when they’re knocked around by walls of inertia and the force of gravity—and Harry doesn’t miss any of it. His eyes blink down to watch the magic of physics for a moment, and all I can think about is how I hope he can’t see how hard my nipples are through my thin bra and top…

What am I even saying?! Who am I trying to convince? We all know I’d flash him Girls-Gone-Wild-style right now if I had the guts.

He furrows his eyebrows at me from across the dimly-lit room and leans his hip against the door frame, crossing his arms over his front. I’m trying not to become distracted by how well his biceps fill out his dress shirt, or by the way the muscles in his chest dance a little bit every time he folds his arms like that. “Uh-huh.” I moan(again), unable to form a coherent sentence. I’m still on my merry way to the mouth-breather national championships, but at least I’m not wheezing…yet. Am I on the verge of hyperventilation? Who knows. My body only seems to betray me…so stay tuned. Harry’s tongue pokes out of his mouth and he slicks it from side to side to dampen his bottom lip.

“Why ya so jumpy..? Wha’s wrong?” He inquires, his eyes drifting down to my heaving chest again. His eyes flick back up to mine seemingly as soon as he clocks the two little bullets aimed in his direction. His complexion warms, but I’m certain his blush is nothing compared to mine. I swear, if he keeps looking at my tits like that…Gah…Is it getting hotter in here? Shit, didn’t he ask me something? Eh, whatever. Words aren’t even exiting my mouth anymore. Harry’s just standing there, keeping his distance and watching me pant like I’ve just finished the mile-run in gym class (what a nightmare). Judging by the worry in his brow and genuine concern in his voice, I must have given him the impression that I’d just seen a goddamned ghost walk through the wall or something. I almost wish I had that excuse to fall back on right now…But the room falls silent. Each puff of carbon dioxide is released from my mouth like a silent cry for help. So now I’m really playing the part of the out-of-breath chubby girl in gym class. Not exactly the vibe I’m going for right now. Or ever. Never again—AH! I need to say something—anything! I can hear the swoosh of my eyelashes as they cut through the air every time I blink. I’m significantly hyper-aware of my body. What if I swallow the excess spit in my mouth and I start choking?! Oh, God…now I’m worried about that?!

Any explanation or reassurance Harry assumes to receive for my strange behavior is withheld. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t even know how to explain myself to him because I’ve let this go on for too long. Seconds pass by in a torturous silence, but the seconds feel like minutes, and one minute feels like an eternity when I’m in the same room as a 6-foot ticking time-bomb who’s one nudge away from exploding into a holy-shit-fit. Crabby Harry doesn’t like to feel ignored. He doesn’t like to repeat himself. And he doesn’t like it when his pretty little roommate is disobedient.

Abandoning his usual, gentle inflection, he amplifies his voice and waves his hands back and forth, seemingly annoyed and now crossing the line over to belligerence. “Hellooo?!” Harry calls out to me. My ears ring at the aggressive tone and I flinch. “What's the matter with you, huh?” Still nothing. Well, I’m saying nothing. Everything is the matter with me. There’s so much wrong. Please help me. Get me out of this fucking room or I’ll scream.

Another empty beat goes by. This is so embarrassing.

Being the ill-tempered and impatient man he is, Harry’s reprimanding escalates, now practically yelling at me like I’ve been a bad girl, “Oi! What kind of bloody game are y’playin’ here?! ‘S not funny, Y/N. I’m over it.” He grits and steps completely into my room now. My personal space has officially been breached. I hold no more power in my safe little bubble anymore. He nods his head once whilst making a lifting gesture with his hand. “C’mon…Sit up and look at me when I’m speaking to you,” he bites out, his voice snappy and demanding.

Hm. Ok, so, it’s safe to say that he is, indeed, not in a good mood—not in the mood to try and be patient while his horny and dumb roommate is devouring him with her eyes and forgetting how to breathe properly, that’s for sure.

His heightened volume and combative language pulls me back to reality. I clear my throat and sit with my legs criss-crossed under me. My shaky hands find solace deep inside my lap, squeezing between the warm thickness of my thighs. The hasty new sitting position causes the crotch seam of my pajama pants to rest tightly against the slit of my pussy. Every time I move my hips or straighten my back, it tugs the thick seam forwards/backwards against my clit, sending waves of teasing pleasure through my lower tummy. But I try to be oblivious to this right now because I really don't need the extra stimulation. I’m already drenched and dying for Harry to pump load after load of cum inside of me—you know, just my typical Friday.

“I’m sorry…I-I’m…just really…super tired…” I fake a yawn. “…Just woke up from a nap.” I croak, lazily rubbing my eye to play it up. What a bold-faced lie—I’m wide fucking awake. My corneas may be stinging, and my thoughts are completely clouded with lust, but I couldn’t fall asleep right now even if I tried. He’d have to choke me out…Ooh…

God…

I tilt my head down, feeling utterly flustered and ashamed of my naughty internal voice. But I’m finally able to direct my rogue train of thought away from the tracks to fucktown, returning my sights to the real-life Harry who’s currently glaring at me. Yeesh…He’s pissed. “So, um…long day?” My voice cracks pathetically. Those are gonna be my famous last words, aren’t they? Harry clenches his jaw before answering me. “Long day—?” He stops himself, scoffs, and runs a hand through his hair. “Oh, Y/N, now that you’ve mentioned it, yes. My day was absolute shit!” His skin is heating up. He aggressively unbuttons his sleeve cuffs and roughly pushes them up to his elbows. Ugh, I love it when he does that.

The cranky version of Harry has been coming out more and more lately, and honestly, seeing him like this makes me melt. He’s so hot when he’s mad…is it wrong to think that? I can’t help it anyway. His pheromones constantly call out for me, relentless to allow me a break from wanting him. From needing him. I should be careful and let him be, but I’m dying to know how much aggression he could take out on me. What would he resort to? Would he bend me over his lap for a controlled punishment? Or would he hold me down while he savagely fucked his rage out? Oh, god, please…please. Harry pops open a few of his shirt buttons, working to cool himself off. I can see more of his skin now—a light dusting of hair, the swallow feathers, the antennas of his butterfly.

“Ran into construction on my way in, had to work through lunch, and I didn’t even get to see you before I left this morning…” He frowns, “...Probably why I’ve been a grump all day…” I chew on my lower lip anxiously and watch as his somber expression slowly lightens a smidge as he stares off into space. “Honestly, I was hoping my Bunny’s gorgeous face would welcome me home tonight…with those darling doe eyes and that smile…I thought she’d make me feel better…” I inhale in preparation to console him, or maybe to defend myself. I don’t even know what I want to say. It doesn’t matter, though, because he cuts me off before I can even think up a sentence. “But I guess y’just wanna be a right-fuckin’-pain’n my ass instead, don’t you, Y/N?” His accent thickens as his temper worsens. Pouting, I flick my eyes down to the stitching on my duvet of which my fingers seem to have been subconsciously fidgeting with since I’d first sat up. My teeth nervously nibble on my lip before whispering one of his words to myself. “Gorgeous…” My voice sounds so soft and meek, and I’m blushing like crazy. The atmosphere feels hot and humid, although it’s a crisp, Oregon October. “Wha—?” Harry takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose for a moment as if to collect his thoughts. “—Yes. I think you’re…quite lovely, actually. ‘Always thought that, Bunny.” His rough speech makes him sound so tired. So worn out. I want to make him feel better. There’s still time to do that, isn’t there?

He lifts his head and looks at me, and my breath hitches at the sharp eye contact. Unexpectedly, Harry grunts and kicks my door closed behind him with a splintering slam. My body jolts. “Harry…” I breathe out. If I wasn’t already feeling subby, I surely am now. It’s one thing for him to raise his voice, but he’s never gotten physical before. I’ve never seen this side of Harry...I’m…scared. But I want more... Jesus, I’m tumbling down into a bottomless pit of subspace, aren’t I…?

“You wanna know a secret, Bunny?” He scoffs, squeezing and releasing his hands at his sides. I see his knuckles turn from golden tan to white from the pressure, over and over again, until he looks down at his socked feet and shakes his head with the ghost of a smile on his flushed face. “God, I jus’…I jus’ wanna…” He clenches and unclenches his jaw several times during his pause of silence. His mouth is closed, but I know his teeth are gritted together. His next words are growled at me, and I can just barely process them. “...You’ve had no bloody clue, have you…?” He raises his head to shoot daggers at me and continues, “…No clue how bad I’ve needed…Christ, Y/N…” He’s pacing the floor. “…Fuck, from the moment you walked into that bar, I wanted to claim you. Did you know that?” He stops pacing, squints, and cocks his head at me, his inked arms crossed over his chest again.

Rhetorical questions are confusing(fucking annoying) when the person asking them looks at you like they’re expecting an answer. (like this: 👁️_👁️)

I instinctively avoid eye contact and drop my head down, my shoulders rotating forward defensively. “All this fucking time, Y/N…And now every goddamn second of every day, you taunt me. You hop around like the little fuck-bunny you are, your huge tits practically bouncing out of your bra—” He bites the inside of his cheek and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before clearing his throat and beginning again. “—wearing those tiny little shorts that barely cover that fat, juicy ass…Jesus Christ…all the fucking time, Y/N...” He groans. As he’s describing me, he becomes so infuriated that he needs to stop speaking just to let out an exasperated breath filled with rage and arousal. “...All the fucking time, I’m having to force myself to be good. I have to remind myself that you’re too sensitive…that I can’t…I…” He sighs and combs his fingers through his mane of soft curls. “...I have to be careful around you, y’know? Your existence…just you merely existing ‘round me…you drive me fucking mad…” I gulp and raise my head back up to see he has his back turned to me. His shoulders are heaving as he breathes heavily, and his muscles are clearly tensed beneath his slightly wrinkled button-down. He circles the room slowly, eventually standing before me once again. “You don’t know half the things I’ve wanted to do to you…” His dilated eyes twitch, and he gives me a lopsided grin. “...Except, you do, don’t you, sweetheart?” My mouth dries up like someone’s just pulled the spit drain. “Huh? W-what are you t-talking about?!” I nearly choke on my sorry excuse for denial. I stare at him in disbelief, wishing to God that I had the courage to sass him back. But all of that assertion seems to have gone on vacation.

Harry just shakes his head and grins devilishly. “Don’t be like that…” Bending forward, he huskily goads on, “…I know you want to suck my cock, Y/N.”

My eyes widen and my heart pumps harder in my chest as Harry nears closer to the bed. He’s burning holes into me and I can feel my skin heat up wherever his eyes roam. I’m beginning to scoot up farther toward the headboard in subconscious defense. “Hmm? What's that silly lil’ head of yours thinkin’ bout? Gagging on my dick? Bet that’s it. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Bunny?” Though it’s clear in his inflection that his intentions are to get a rise out of me, his predatory stare and steady prowl he leads in my direction tell me otherwise. I’m being hunted. His knees hit the edge of my raised bed with a soft bump. Both of his hands slide down his torso and he rests one on his thigh whilst the other rubs up and down his straining erection. He lifts one knee up onto the bed, gaining in on me. I automatically draw my attention downwards, but regret it instantly because seeing the outline of his thickness makes me moan. The desert that once took over the cavern of my mouth has now been blessed with a river of needy saliva. When I switch back to Harry’s face, I’ve already been caught ogling. So much for denial, Y/N.

Harry chuckles boyishly—the same playful chuckle I’ll hear when I send him a meme or a TikTok from across the room or down the hall. It’s much more menacing hearing it now within this context. “D’you want Daddy to fuck your mouth, Princess?” He jeers, tilting his head. Scoffing, I stare up at him wide-eyed. In the low corners of my vision, my breasts rise and fall with every labored breath. I can hear myself almost gasping for air. I swallow the rest of my shock down and shake my head gently—I refuse to answer his filthy question aloud. He exhales bitterly, visibly irritated. “Hm. I knew you were just a fucking tease.” He says gruffly before giving his hard-on one more squeeze over his slacks. He shakes his head at me in what I perceive as disappointment, then leans forward on the bed, holding himself up by his palms. The ever-increasing closeness to this man intoxicates me. His aggression is further spiraling me into the permanence of that special space of mine. I can feel myself pouting my lips with my head bowed as if I’m being disciplined by, well…you know who.

(And, no. Not Voldemort.)

I don’t wanna say the D-word. Harry just used the term to try and embarrass me. To shame me. Fuck you, Harry. As I’ve confessed previously—I basically thrive off of his attention—and this right now, of course, is still fueling me deliciously. Although, I don’t quite enjoy how he’s accusing me of being a tease. He’s just being an asshole. Hmph…I am not a tease. I’ve got a bite, Styles. Just come a little closer, and I’ll prove it.

I don’t even realize that I’ve begun to glare at him until his voice takes me away from my raging thoughts. He lowers his timbre and slowly shakes his head once more, “Quit givin’ me that look, Bunny…Y’bout to start somethin’, aren’t ya?” He nods his chin at me. I nervously shrink into my bed, absent-mindedly squishing my tits together with my arms and furrowing my eyebrows like I’m about to reluctantly agree. But before I totally fold into the compliant little toy he wants me to be, I decide to change gears at the last second. Straightening up onto my knees and crawling towards him, I close in on him near the edge of the mattress, backing him up, my eyes narrowed and defiant as they meet with those of the audacious man leaning onto my bed. “So what if I do, Harry?” I surprise myself with how tough and bratty I sound. Harry only ‘tsk’s at my attempt at defending myself. Narrowing his eyes, he leans farther over the bed so that he’s almost touching my nose with his. He’s so close to me now, and I'm worried the pounding drumbeat of my heart is blowing my cover. But I refuse to surrender to his piercing gaze or cower away from him in fear. That’s what he wants me to do. He wants me to give him that power. But I won’t—not without a fight. Not without a struggle…Just a little bit…

I close my eyes for a moment and breathe deeply through my nose. The spicy notes of his signature cologne are making me salivate. Sure, I’ve caught whiffs of it once in a while during our hugs or in passing, but the scent communicates with me differently at this moment. Masculine. Woodsy. Clean. Like taking a gulp of spiked apple cider next to a bonfire on a cool fall evening, surrounded by giant pine trees. I’m addicted to the inhale. An intense desperation for more grows in the pit of my stomach as I continue to suck in the breaths of Harry. I never want the remnants of him to leave my lungs. It’s strange how something as simple as a fragrance has given me such primal desires. When I open my eyes again, I’m immediately drawn down to his lips. God…have they always been this pink and smooth? Harry must know I’m staring because he wets his mouth with his tongue before a clever smirk stretches across it. I bet he thinks I’m going to surrender. But I coax my attention away from his distracting features before I lose any more of my self-control. I can pull myself out of this, I know I can. I just need to channel my energy into something else other than lust. I focus towards the path of furiousness. The oath of silence I'd previously been taking is no longer an option for me as all I see are flames. Harry makes me so fucking mad. He comes home, slams doors, makes me feel vulnerable even in the safety of my own bedroom…degrades me, slams another fucking door…MY door. Calls me a fucking tease while he grabs his dick right in front of me?!

Alright—That’s it. No more playing nice. Go hard or go home, Y/N.

I straighten my posture, arching my back and subtly pushing my breasts out towards him, then relax, putting on my best poker face. “Go ahead, Harry…” I lure him, my voice all but a breathy coo. “…Take it out on me…” His eyebrow quirks up, but I know from the darkness in his eyes and the slight flare to his nostrils that he’s not amused by my sudden audacity. I continue, purring, “…Unless you’re too scared you’ll hurt me—” In a split second, his strong hand roughly wraps itself around my neck and I’m shoved backwards onto my duvet. He’s squeezing the sides of my throat and forcing his whole weight on top of me, pinning me down and blocking air. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. Harry inches closer until our lips barely brush together by a hair's width. “Fucking brat,” he practically spits. I struggle to swallow the hard lump in my throat. My body is stuck, painfully held down, yet I’m still desperately squirming to arch myself up against him for even the smallest bit of friction. I’m clenching my inner walls over and over again as if lazy kegels will soothe my itch. I’m essentially drooling out of both ends. I’m now realizing this isn’t a fucked up little game between housemates anymore. The line has finally been crossed.

Harry’s eyes drift down to my rosy lips and back up again. His nose nudges against mine. He knows exactly what I want and he’s taunting me…holding himself right in front of my face as I lay here, my eyesight blurring. “There’s no turning back now.” He seethes. He smiles darkly at my helplessness, then feathers his lips over the flushed skin of my cheek. His soft kisses press along the length of my jaw before he speaks again. “Just like how I can’t take back all those times I’ve wanked off listenin’ to your pretty moans from my room…” His words trail off against my goosebump-ridden neck. “...Inn’ that right, baby?” “Mmmhh.” I whimper in agreement, the noise vibrating from my larynx and into his large palm. Our shared heat is suffocatingly erotic. The air I breathe is damp and thick, but I can only see to basking in this paradise for all of eternity. I’m still panting under him with my arms lying dead at my sides, my fingernails biting into the heels of my hands. I feel like Harry’s peering into my subconscious with how intensely his pitted irises concentrate upon mine. I’m losing it. My sanity is at stake. I think I’m just in shock over the reality of the situation—the fact that this is all real. And if it is real, then Harry needs to get fucking going, otherwise I will scream until my stupid lungs give out. All I want at this moment is to have him on my tongue. To know what Harry tastes like. I can barely hear myself when I say it. I swallow dryly, his fingers pressed tightly against the delicate skin protecting the shift of muscles in my neck. A spark of audacity jolts through my lungs and I serve the ball back into his court.

“Kiss me.” Like a baby’s breath—that’s how gentle it is. My cheeks flush with embarrassment. What a silly thing to ask. He probably didn’t even hear me—

—Never you doubt these ears of mine, either…I can assure you, I hear everything.

The edge of Harry’s mouth quirks up and he presses his cheek against mine, breathing into my ear, “I hope you realize what you’re requesting…” He pauses to nibble my earlobe for a moment. “Because once I get a taste of you, I’ll never stop.” My breath hitches and I can’t help it as my hips jolt up for contact with his. He snickers. “Mmm, such a horny little thing.” Less than a second later, his lips collide with mine and I hum, wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him closer. Our tongues meet briefly before our lips meet again in a desperate, yet rhythmic dance. I could get used to him turning my thoughts off this way.

After locking lips with a few guys, I stopped believing in that ‘spark,’ or the magical leg-pop thing from The Princess Diaries. I came to accept the reality behind kissing as it truly was: lips touching lips…And that was it. But kissing Harry isn’t like that at all. The affection feels genuine—I can feel him lament every sleepless night he’s spent praying that one day I’ll be his as his mouth massages mine. The unfettered desire we swirl against each other’s tongues is an atomic aphrodisiac. Every erogenous zone in my body is pulsating, and I seriously think I might come from this alone. But amidst all the lust, I’m encompassed by love. Each of my favorite cinematic movie kisses flash behind my eyelids as mine and Harry’s lips continue to lap tenderly.

His fingers tighten for just a pulse on my throat as if to remind me that he’s in control. I’m suddenly reminded of how much Harry prefers everything to go his way, and his way only. I know Harry prefers a challenge, so I’ll give it to him. A burst of confidence surges through my veins and I gently latch onto his bottom lip with my teeth. It’s then carefully released with a wet snap. A growl erupts from Harry’s chest, I can feel it just barely thumping against mine. I lift my tits up until I’m flush against his strong torso so our hearts can beat in sync. He drags his lips down my cheek and sucks on the side of my neck whilst the hand not grasping at my throat begins to explore. He starts at my shoulder, sliding down my collarbone, stopping briefly to fondle my breast, then continuing farther until he meets the elastic waistband of my pajama pants, dipping inside and circling behind me to grab my ass over my underwear. He presses our clothed sexes together and grinds into me. Fuck, it’s hot knowing I’m not the only one who’s wet.

I wiggle and squirm beneath him, essentially rubbing myself harder against his solid cock as a result. He groans and pushes his hips, hard, into mine before grinding them in random circular motions. “Ohh, fuck…s-stop it…” I plead, unconvincingly. It feels so fucking good. Why should I make this easy for him? I may have a high sex-drive, but I don’t put-out just for the hell of it. I mean, I guess it’s a little bit different when Harry’s the one trying to get in my pants…I’ve wanted this for so long. “N-no…Harry, stop!” I whine, pretending to protest against his touch. Harry’s face retreats from his attack on my neck to grin at me. “What are you doing?” He chuckles. His hand moves up to my hip, softly squeezing onto my bare, squishy love-handle from under my thin clothing. I shake my head and blink. Ugh, who am I kidding here? I want this. I need this. I’m just holding myself back from the blissful inevitable. I have to let go of my pride…I need to tell Harry that I want him to—“Fuck me.” I blurt out. His eyes widen, and I choose to repeat myself with a little more urging in my voice to emphasize my growing impatience. “Fuck me, Harry.” He lets out a bitter laugh, scoffing at my forwardness and tilts his head slightly. “Yeah? You want me to fuck you?” He asks patronizingly, and I nod. But it seems as though that wasn’t the response he was looking for, as Harry immediately reprimands me for my non-verbal confirmation. He blatantly slaps me across my face. The sharp sting has made me gasp. However, Harry doesn’t seem to be bothered by my anguish in the slightest. He takes pleasure in it. “Try again…What do you say?” A beat passes without a response from me. He slaps me again, “Say it!” I turn my head to face the wall for a moment. Huh? What do I say…? What should I say?! Please…? I don't know! What is he talking about?!

Harry’s now run out of all self-restraint. “You fucking bitch…,” he mumbles, the grip of his fingers sliding up from my throat to my cheeks, squeezing my jaw, then jerking and pointing my face directly to him. “Say it…Tell me who you want to fuck you.” He demands with more assertion. My vision slowly returns to its full clarity. And just as fast as the sharp colors that flood back into the world around me, the narcissistic asshole’s indirect request hits me like a motherfucking double-decker bus. If I wasn’t being watched so closely by Harry at the moment, I’d have the evilest, shit-eating grin on my face. “P-please, Daddy…” I grovel. “Please, fuck me.” Harry instantly smiles at the title I honor him with.

Of course he wants me to call him ‘Daddy’—the exact thing he’d used against me just a few minutes ago to try and make me feel insecure. What a prick. Typically, I’d roll my fucking eyes at his outright arrogance, but I’m far too distracted to care. My current condition holds no room for petty judgment to ruin this moment. I really just want Harry—Daddy—to fuck me.

“Mmm, that’s my girl, Bunny…I love when you’re good f’me, sweetheart.” The soothing hush of his voice combined with the mess of hot kisses he leaves down my face, smearing from my lips to the side of my neck, have released a new wave of liquid heat to pool out into my panties. I return to being choked again, but his affections don’t cease. He’s groaning and panting and lapping mercilessly at my skin—it’s as though he’s indulging in his special treat after a hard day’s work. Harry finds a particularly sensitive spot with the pressure of his lips and tongue, my loud gasp making it obvious. As he sucks a mark onto my skin there, I moan out and grab his chocolate locks to have something to hold onto. My neck is released from his chokehold. A fresh gust of air makes contact with my skin there and it sends a little shiver down my shoulders.

Both of his hands move down to grope at my chest, thumbing at my nipples over my thin shirt and bra. His delicate attention to my sensitive breasts forces me to vocalize my satisfaction. “Ohhhh!” Seeing the way his big hands can’t even encompass them completely is insanely hot for the both of us. “Goddamnit, I’ve wanted to touch these for so fucking long, Y/N.” Once he’s decided he’s teased himself enough, he lifts my shirt, shoving it up past the swells of my tits. My thin, lacy undergarment is practically begging to be discarded, and the stars must be on Harry’s side because the bra clasps together in the front. This revelation absolutely thrills him. He unfastens the center clip, beaming with lust as my tits are set free in a bouncy display before him. “Mmhh, my Godddd…look at you.” His lips and tongue immediately latch onto me—squishing both breasts with his hands and alternating between them with his mouth, licking sloppy wet trails around my areolas, his tongue swirling its way to the center and flicking the nubs until I whine for more. He then resorts to sucking on each of the budded nipples, playing with the opposite one with the damp pad of his thumb in tandem. He then gratefully cups my tits and groans as he buries his face between them. He does it all hungrily, moaning against my skin and relishing in my body’s feel and taste.

His needy technique delights me. It feels as if he’s taking his time to savor and memorize every detail of me with his slick tongue. I lay my head back and allow myself to bask in the pleasure, becoming entranced under Harry’s spell as his famished mouth kisses and sucks on my sensitive nipples. I comb my fingers through his loose curls and caress his stubbly cheeks with my gentle embrace. My clit is throbbing to experience direct stimulation from this man—swollen and jealous of my breasts which have received so much of his eager attention. His hands wander, grasping at the natural dip of my waist and sliding down to the band of my pajama pants at my hips. They linger for a bit, ghosting across the delicate, striped skin there. I twitch. My stomach clenches.

Please don’t…

Harry’s eyes meet mine and I’m biting my lip, fighting back my giggles. He smirks knowingly at me. “No, Harry.” I state with a waveringly warning tone. His fingers move just a hair, and my body tenses again. Without another beat, Harry tickles my sides furiously, making me shriek and laugh uncontrollably as his hands attack my sides. This seems to amuse him greatly as he refuses to pull back for another solid 10 seconds or so. Eventually, his tormenting concludes and I’m left with breathless titters. At this point, he confesses, “Ugh, your laugh makes me hard…feel what you do to me, Bunny.” He gently takes my hand and presses it against the front of his pants. I wrap my hand around him as best as I’m able to and stroke him a few times until he denies me of any more groping. We are both aching for that skin-on-skin contact that dry humping feels painfully futile. Harry resumes undressing me and manages to rid my wiggling legs from their modesty. All that remains to shield my lower half is a dainty pair of pink panties. I reach down and adjust them, smoothing the waistband across my thumbs and letting the elastic snap up high on my hips. Fuck yesss! I internally cheer. Past-Y/N thankfully chose hot-girl underwear this morning instead of granny panties! Harry is too distracted burying himself in my tits to notice, but in due time…soon Daddy will appreciate his Bunny’s adorable lil’ undies.

The dark melody of his voice tugs me back down to Earth—back to the feral man below me who has become addicted to the taste of my flesh. “Tell me…” He breathes out in between licks and bouts of suction. “...Tell me how hard you want Daddy to fuck you, baby.” I let out a whimper, feeling the dripping walls of velvet between my thighs pulse and squeeze around nothing. My response is delayed due to my fucked-out mind shutting out my thoughts. “However you’ll take me, Daddy.” I purr mindlessly. Harry’s hold on my throat returns without warning, and I blink rapidly as my tits jiggle from the abrupt movement. I barely dip back into reality, just enough to notice the way his hard rings are bruising my skin. His other hand travels south. He tickles across the peach fuzz on my tummy and I helplessly giggle out loud at the sensation.

“Yeah? Whatever I want?” He flashes his signature boyish smirk up at me, his eyes providing me with the most familiar yet intimate flash of ethereal green I’ve seen today, before resuming his descent for my sodden center. His fingers finally reach my clenched thighs. And clenched they are. He grunts, growing aggressively impatient once more, as he sponges sloppy kisses along my jawbone. “Open.” The word barely a mumble humming into my skin. “Open up f’me, love.” I whine and rub my thighs together. “Mm-mm…” I’m pathetically desperate for the slightest amount of friction against my clit, so thankful at this time that my thighs are as plush as they are. “Quit y’whinin’.” He mumbles against my cheek. His palm smacks the exposed skin of my outer thigh, and Harry pulls back to watch as my flesh jiggles from the sudden contact. The sight seems to arouse him. “Fuck…” As if out of raw, sexual instinct, he grabs at me there—pulling me and tilting my body so that he can see more of my backside—and then he releases his hand before sending it back down to slap the side of my ass, rubbing and squeezing onto it in admiration afterwards. “…This ass…fuck…fucking perfect, you know tha’...?” He lays me back down and grabs ahold of the front of my pillowy thigh with his hand, trying to gently separate it from its twin. “…Spread your sweet thighs f’me and I’ll make it feel better, baby...” He assures, giving me all the sugar in his voice just before he continues with a darker tone directly into my ear, raking his teeth down my neck. “...I promise I’ll make it all better.”

Our lust-shrouded eyes then lock onto one another. I choose to obey and shakily open myself up to him. He groans at his new view: A scrap of thin, baby pink cotton protecting my most sensitive bits. The pastel is flawless except for one large damp spot near my center. I was right—I’ve soaked right through. If it were any other situation, I’d try my best to retreat and hide myself away in shame. This isn’t one of those situations. Nay. I need Harry to see how miserable I am without his cock inside me. I need him to see the power he has over my pussy. His determined fingertips slide down to the dainty fabric to perform slow, vertical swipes across my entire slit. They press and rub—up and down…up…and down…until he’s got me humming and cooing from his touch, and eventually bucking my hips as well, at which he stills immediately. His calloused fingers rest firmly against the dampest spot on my underwear. I can feel him threatening to push his digits deeper—to disregard the flimsy, cloth barrier altogether and just plunge in. I can’t help but to squirm and mewl beneath him. I want more, more, more, so fucking badly. It all feels torturous now. Every move he makes turns my dial to the direction of mindless submission.

“I…I want you to use me now, Harry...p-please.” I whimper meekly. “Please just—” A hot gust of air quickly exits his flared nostrils. His touch parts away from my center for just

a second in order to deliver a rough spank against the moist cotton. I flinch and squeak at the abrupt punishment, my knees instinctively closing in. Harry puts a stop to them as if he’d been expecting this kind of response and splays me wide open, shoving himself between my thighs to hold me in position. “—What did I just fucking tell you?” “Mnnhh!” I whine, dragging it to emphasize my restlessness and to enunciate my desperate excitement for him. “No, none o’tha’. Be a good girl ‘n use your words.” I huff out in defiance and squirm under him, trying to pull him down to me by clutching his shirt. I can’t help that I’m throbbing and impatient. But he doesn’t find my uncooperation to be very warranted. Harry wants to tame me, not enable me.

Well, boo. 😣

“Fine. Be a brat. But brats get less privileges.” He leans back and unbuckles his belt, yanking it out of his pants and snatching my wrists. The leather tightens around them and my arms are pinned above my head. “Do not touch me unless I tell you to. Understand?” His voice has returned to its demanding inflection once more. I slowly nod. Instantly, he hits my cheek with an open hand, and I gasp at the growing sting. The slap was harder this time. That same hand then caresses my sore skin gently and he hums to try and comfort me. He softly kisses my cheek and speaks against it. “Your pretty face is getting all red, baby. You’ve gotta listen t’me, alright?” I sniffle, trying not to cry, and I bow my head, gathering the strength to apologize right afterwards. “Mm, Daddy…I-I’m sorry.” He smiles down at me once I find the courage to lift my chin and face him again. It’s contagious, and I mirror him without hesitation. “Oh, my sweet girl. You’re so beautiful, y’know tha’? So perfect…Hm, almost…” He sighs, smoothing his hand through my hair. “…All you need is my cock inside you.” I instantly moan, and I nod repeatedly at his last statement. “Mmhh, I want it so bad.” I whisper. He stops and chuckles bitterly. “Oh, I know, Bunny. You’re a needy little slut for me. Trust me. I know. But guess what? I’ll fuck you whenever I want. It’s not up to you.”

Ope…Mean Harry is back.

“Oh, I-I didn’t mean to upset you—” I frown when he laughs and interrupts me. “—That’s a fucking lie.” He punctuates with a rough thrust against my damp panties, staying pressed to me for a few seconds and panting. He pulls back to snarl at me. “You love it when I’m angry. I bet that’s exactly what you think about when you’re in here stuffing your fingers inside your dripping cunt.” He adds effect by giving my sodden pussy another quick spank. I gasp and blink at him, shocked. I mean…he’s not wrong. “I knew it…you want to be thrown around like the whore you are. You like it rough.” I whine, lifting my leg up and trying to hook it around Harry so I can pull him down to me. I need to feel him. But he catches my knee and pushes it up so it’s bent up to my chest, really pinning me down. “Are you truly as brainless as you look?” I shake my head at him as my face turns sullen. “You’re jus’ a stupid lil’ slut, aren’t you, Bunny…” He’s not asking, and I know that. And yet I still shake my head to deny his accusation anyway. My naivety amuses him. He reaches out and pinches my cheek. “You’re so cute and dumb. But I’m sure y’think you’ve got the beauty and the brains, hm?” He laughs and taps his index finger against my temple to illustrate. I bat my wispy lashes and sulk. “But you don't…jus’a stupid, cock-hungry bimbo.” He chuckles. “You do a terrible job at keeping quiet, ‘Bun…S’pitiful, really, how desperate you are to get fucked.” His hands wander down my body again, this time with a harsher touch. I just lay silently and take everything he gives me. “Thought I’d never say a fucking word, didn’t you?” With both hands, he pinches my nipples and pulls until my mouth opens with a gasp. He then lowers his head down and sucks onto my tongue. I moan, pushing myself upwards to try and get more of him. But he shoves me back down by my shoulders and grunts. “Can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t say anything when you go fucking yourself silly with those cute little toys you hide in your drawer…” He sits up on his knees and unbuttons the rest of his shirt, then unzips his pants, pushing them down far enough so that his erection is no longer strained by his tight trousers. The material of his boxer briefs has a wet patch near his tip and my nails dig into the belt wrapped around my wrists. He kicks his pants the rest of the way off and grips his length with one of his aggressive hands. “…While I’m right next door jerking this big, hard cock as you make a goddamn mess of yourself in here…” I moan at the sight of him—his bare abdomen now exposed as his dress shirt hangs on his shoulders, rolled up at the elbows. He traps me in with his hands cradling my head, then pulls down at my chin with his thumbs to signal for me to open my mouth. “…With my name on your tongue…” He spits and lets the saliva drip down into my mouth. Once it lands, he clutches my face with one hand and whispers, “Swallow.” I do as he says. “Mm, good girl.”

“And what’s with you bein’ so quiet today, huh? I’m used to you always runnin’ this mouth. I should start putting it to better use, hm? Shut you up by fucking your throat and jus’ come all over your pathetic face. Would that teach you?” My heart is pounding relentlessly in my ears. My lips separate in an attempt to release some sort of verbal response. It’s no use, though. I’m frozen and speechless. He sees my gaped mouth as an opportunity to shove two of his long fingers inside. I instinctively purr at finally having my oral fixation satiated, closing my lips and suckling. His skin tastes faintly of my own essence, but also of him. He’s literally got me wrapped around his fucking fingers. But I can’t say I’m mad about it. My body is shaking with anticipation. I need him. “Such a spoiled brat, y’know tha’? I’m bein’ much too nice to you…” He slaps my cheek with his other hand. “…I don’t think you even deserve my cum. But you’re just a pretentious little princess who's got empty holes needing to be filled.” My sight has gotten all watery and blurry. I’ve never been spoken to like this before. He pouts mockingly. “You poor baby…You’ve never been properly fucked, have you? Basically a virgin.” He groans out at his own revelation. “God…probably so tight…I’m gonna fucking ruin this cunt, baby.” I suck his fingers deeper, slurping on them while drool leaks out and I gaze wantonly at Harry. “Aw, look at you…sucking on me for dear life…I love seeing how badly you need it…” My eyes roll back at his insults. “What would our friends say if they saw you like this, hm? I wonder if they know how much of a filthy whore you are…how much you’ve begged for my cock to fill you…‘Should be ashamed of yourself, Bunny.”

“Mmhh…” I wordlessly hum against his hand.

He pulls his wet digits down—smearing my lower lip and chin with my spit.

Harry smirks at my glassy-eyed stare. “…Mm, you love this, don’t you? You love it when I’m mean.” I swallow some of the excess saliva on my tongue and lay my head back, closing my eyes. And he says I’m the tease…Fuck, I wanna see that cock already. I wanna FEEL it, goddamnit!

“Please, Daddy…I want you.” I whimper, feeling my throat ache as if I’m close to starting the waterworks just to get some dick around here. “Oh, I know, sweetheart. I know.” He stamps light kisses down my neck. The lips that graze across my hypersensitive skin linger. Harry inhales deeply through his nose, nuzzling his face into a pile of my long ringlets. Lowering his pitch to a soft whisper, he professes, “You’ve always had me, Bunny. And you’ll always be mine.” My lashes flutter as a wave of goosebumps trickles down my back and I struggle holding in a sob at his confession. I hum, nudging my face against his for his attention. He peers up at me with those lively green eyes now, as just Harry, and I tentatively lower my arms—still bound by his belt—downwards until my wrists are behind his neck. Before I even have the forethought of taking the lead, his lips are covering mine. The warmth this kiss exudes isn’t just physical. It’s a kiss that serenades three words into my heart without making a single sound. We’ve made a silent understanding of who we are—who we will be—he and I.

Because this is mine and Harry’s house…and Harry’s finally home.

Our lips release slowly, our shallow breaths mixing together as we stare at one another in silent adoration. Harry nuzzles my nose with his and mumbles for me, “Y/N?” Don’t get me wrong, I love his little nicknames for me. But hearing the drawl of his voice as he says my name…it hits different, y’know? “Yeah?” I rasp, swallowing the croakiness in my throat. He removes my arms from around his neck and begins unbuckling the belt. My brows pull together as I’m watching my wrists find freedom. “W-why—?” Harry interrupts me before I finish my question. “—I want you to be able to touch me, sweetheart.” The affirmation comes out whilst he kisses the faint marks where the belt bit into my delicate skin. I breathe a sigh of relief. “Oh…” Then Harry finishes his statement that I didn’t realize needed to be finished. “Because… unless you push me off right now, I won’t stop fucking you until you make me a real daddy.” I lay beneath him with my mouth agape, eyes sparkling, cheeks flushed…and there go the lazy kegels again. He wants to breed me.

Both of our mothers are gonna be pissed if he doesn’t put a ring on my finger first…but there’s no way in hell I’m pushing him off of me. I’d never push him off. Of course I want this. Does he want this?

“A-are you s—” “—I’ve never been more serious about anything in my entire life, Y/N.”

Either I’m an impossibly slow talker, or he’s incredibly impatient. Stop fucking interrupting me…also, why are we still tALKING?!

I blink at him and try to suppress my smile. My hands slip their way up his smooth chest and brush up through his perfectly disheveled hair. I’m marveling at how my gentle fingers cause his body to shudder and arch into me. I watch him as he’s breathing heavily above me, eyes hooded, mouth parted, and I glance down at his underwear and see that the wet spot is twice its previous size. Not to mention, the throbbing appendage kept inside is visibly twitching and jerking in its confines. I know I shouldn’t taunt the man, but my hands are busy…

“Awe, Daddy, you’re so hard for me, you’re almost as wet as I am.” I giggle. Harry’s eyes snap open and his brows ruffle with a furocity I suddenly recognize as dangerous territory. It seems I haven’t learned my lesson after the first time I poked the bear. My fingers halt their massaging. “Uh-oh.” I gulp. Sliding my hands down his neck and resting them on his shoulders, I await my scolding. With visible agitation, Harry grits, “Uh-oh is right, Bunny…Now flip over.” I hesitate, giving him a pleading look.

Was he serious about that being my last opportunity to tap out of this?

“Now!” I gasp and struggle to turn onto my stomach as he looms over me, caging me in with his arms. But I manage to wiggle around and awkwardly fall onto my front. My hair tickles my face. What now? Ouch, my boobs…ugh…my shirt is all twisted around my arms and back. Goddamnit. Harry laughs at me and my obvious discomfort, then carefully sweeps all my hair away from my face and neck. I sigh, turning my head to peek up at him expectantly. Holding my hair in his fist, he leans down—pressing his clothed erection into my ass. “Lemme ask you something, did you honestly think you were gonna slow me down with that silly resisting act earlier, hm? Sayin’ ‘No, please, stop, Harry,’ ” he mocks, using an exaggerated high-pitched voice to rudely impersonate me. “As if you’re not frothing at the mouth for my cock…” Laughing cruelly, he roughly yanks me up onto my hands and knees and forces my back to arch by pulling my head back by my hair. With his free hand, he grabs and gropes at my panty-clad ass. I can feel it jiggle as he plays around with it. “...My God, you’re a terrible liar. You only made me want you more.” I clench my inner walls, fighting against the wave of hot arousal drizzling out from my pussy lips, further drenching the crotch of my panties.

As I squeeze the plush of my thighs closed to remedy my achy clit, I’m hit with a sharp pain on my right buttcheek. I wail out in shock as another slap comes down hard onto the left shortly afterwards, the cool air of the room stinging my burning skin. “Such a bad bunny…pretending to deny me what’s rightfully mine…” Another lash, this time on my outer thigh. He wraps the length of my hair around his fist and pulls until my back touches his chest. The bottom hem of my baggy t-shirt slowly slips down and falls to cover my naked breasts, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry. He bites my ear and gropes me harshly over the fabric. His fingers pinch and rub one of my nipples through the rough cotton, coaxing a loud mewl out of me. “Mmmmmhhheeeee!” I squirm and writhe, but that just angers the man. “…Let me get this through your silly little-girl brain, all right?” I nod my head. “Please, tell me, Daddy.”

He’s silent for a beat.

I think consistently obeying him caught him off-guard this time. My mouth twitches and I force my smirk down with a bite to my lower lip. Sensing him expecting it, I carefully begin rotating my head to steal a glance at Harry. His tight grasp on my hair allows for me to do so, of which when I finally do make eye-contact, he closes in from the side and gives me a heated kiss, holding my face between his thumb and forefinger. When he releases my lips, he still keeps me in place with that hand and stares closely into my eyes whilst declaring, “I own you.” I gaze back unblinkingly, losing my ability to function the more I allow his engorged pupils to dilate. Just as my corneas burn and I tear up, he kisses me again and drops me back onto my hands and knees. Blinking my dazed eyes brings me back to reality—reminds me that I need to arch my back and present my ass for Harry.

Both hands grasp at my ass now. And both seem to have a plan as they slowly slide up and down my curves, shoving my t-shirt up my back and gently squeezing every part of me that’s squishable. “How dare you attempt to refuse me—to not consent to me—as if you have a bloody fucking choice…?!” His voice booms throughout the room and he snatches my hair once again. “...How…” *Slap!* *Yelp!* “...Fucking…” *Slap!* *Squeal!* “...Dare you…” *Slap, slap, slap, slap!* A gasp escapes my throat and I squeak at the man. “I-I’m sorry, Daddy! I’m sorry!” My bottom lip quivers and my image blurs with hot tears. Fuck. The reddening flesh of my ass and thighs is then unexpectedly met with gentle caresses and the slippery, wet mouth of my disciplinarian. He lets my hair fall down my back in loose curls and I shakily lift my upper half up by my weak arms to see what Harry’s up to. He’s covering my inflamed backside with healing licks and kisses. If the air didn’t sting so badly when his cooling spit was exposed to it, I’d find this to be comforting. However, I’m still very much feeling my punishment.

That’s not to say I didn’t like it…

His nimble fingers slip under the waistband of my pink panties, pulling them down whilst kissing down my raw skin and cooing. I suck in a breath as the fabric is finally removed from my slit. I don’t even care at this point, but I do feel a tad bit prouder knowing that I’d used up a waxing coupon and got the whole shebang just a couple days ago. I’m such a lucky bunny with my timing. My underwear is slowly slid off my feet and onto the floor, and without another beat, I feel a warm tongue flatten over my clit and slick itself all the way up to my ass. A strangled moan escapes my throat and my upper body collapses down onto the bed—leaving my knees bent and spread for Harry to dive head-first. And that, he does. He slurps and sucks on my cunt like he’s drinking the juice of a sacred fruit that he’s never tried before. As if this is his first and only chance to sip the nectar of the rarest bloom in this lifetime. He doesn’t even waste his time fucking me with his fingers, his hands are too preoccupied spreading me open and groping me all over. There’s no room for them anyway when his tongue or his nose is shoved deep inside me as he pushes my body deeper into the mattress. “Oh, God!” I gasp. Harry hums against my clit and sucks on it, making me repeat myself. “Oh, GOD! YES!”

“Mmm, yeah, scream f’me, baby.” He groans between sucks and lappings. I roll my eyes. Bastard. I decide to take the insult back when his ravenous tongue skims up my crack and circles the tight ring there. “Auhhh…fuuuuck...” I moan. That shouldn’t feel as good as it does…I’ve never been into butt stuff before…and yet, here I am—my ass spread wide open by, well, the love of my life who’s eating me like he’s working to find the center of my tootsie pop—almost considering the possibility…

…I hate this man.

He journeys back down to my leaking pussy, flicking my clit with the very tip of his tongue back and forth so effortlessly fast that my whole body quivers. It’s such a light touch, but in an area so stimulating that it’s tightening that coil inside me in record time. My breath is uneven and shaky. My legs wobble and are threatening to squeeze closed around his face. I’m debating whether it’s worth it to reach behind me and just shove his face into my cunt so I can have some relief…but I know better than to make a dumb move like that. Instead, I push back against his tongue and wiggle my hips with a desperate whine. “Mmmmhhh Daddy, pleeeease!”

But to my chagrin, he ignores me entirely. I’m clenching and unclenching my vaginal walls, pathetically pleading for him to give them something to hold onto. Anything. Fuck—even my ass is pulsing for attention now. “Ughhh!” My groan is muffled by the duvet, but I make a point to drag it out. Finally, I receive a reaction from Harry. His tongue takes a hiatus, my clit is relieved from its torture, and I’m roughly tugged around until I’m flat on my back.

“Mmmhh nooo! Wait!” I whimper, pouting whilst I watch him wipe my wetness off his face with the panties he’d tossed aside earlier. They were already soaked through, but now all the material has my musky sweetness covering it. He smirks. “These are mine now.”

I huff and cross my arms over my chest with a scrunched up face. He lets out a guffaw and combs his fingers through his messy, silky hair. “Hm, is my sweet Bunny mad that I didn’t make her come?” He taunts, climbing back onto the bed and atop of me. I stay still and silent. Once a brat, always a brat. I don’t know what to tell ya…

Harry gently wraps his hand around my throat and squeezes. “I know you’re just a brainless bimbo, but do you remember what Daddy said about using your words, baby?” His voice is all low and silky, and it’s not fucking fair because that makes being a stubborn bitch a lot harder. Damnit. And my nipples are hard again. I just want him inside me so fucking badly that I’m close to having a mental breakdown. I’m not even joking anymore. I’m ovulating and I’m hormonal and I’m hornier than any other literal bunny rabbit on this fucking planet. I’m never going to get fucked, am I? It’s all just another silly little dream of mine, isn’t it…and Harry Edward Styles will be the death of me.

I blink back tears. I sniffle and shut my eyes tightly. Harry’s eyes follow the tear’s slippery path down my cheek until it drips onto his hand. He can’t tell if he’s actually hurt my feelings this time. By the looks of me, he thinks he has. My strewn panties beg to differ. He frowns down at me and rubs soft swirls against my clit. “You want me to use this pussy, sweetheart?” The way he proceeds is somewhere between loving and condescending. He leans back, ditching the remnants of his clothing, and finally unleashes the pulsing appendage from the prison that was his boxer briefs. It’s shiny and dark pink. Staring at it and drooling seems to be all I can do at the moment. He returns to me and carefully lifts my t-shirt over my head and removes it altogether. The two of us are completely bare now.

I probably shouldn’t be as into this as I am…I should feel wary of what’s about to happen. I should be looking for a condom. But I can’t. I won’t. I want him to have his way with me, raw. The right way. And I’m gonna give him a baby.

The atmosphere in the room has changed. The natural light that had been peeking through my blinds earlier is no longer present as the sun has now set. My room is only illuminated by faint fairy lights hanging above us, casting a soft glow upon Harry’s skin. They just barely reflect through his eyes as he looks down at me, and I gaze up at him. He takes my thick legs and bends them at my knees, holding them up by the creamy bottoms of my thighs so that my pussy is completely exposed to him. Exposed in all its natural glistening beauty. My hair is splayed out on the bed whilst his curls fall, and others stick with sweat, down his forehead.

All I hear is the sounds of our breathing and my own heartbeat as it echoes in my ears. His hips move forward, the foreskin of his cock already pulled back, and the head taps my clit. Both of us watch as a string of his precum keeps us connected when he bobs his dick up and off my skin. Harry then settles himself at my dripping entrance, teasingly pushing just the tip in and out. This prodding is immediately met with faint, wet, squelching noises. I glance back up to Harry and see that his eyebrows are pinched together with carnal amusement and pleasure. But I can’t take this any longer. Pure sin has consumed every rational thought in my brain. “Make yourself a daddy, Harry.” Whispering those words and fluttering my eyelashes up at him are the only invitation he needs to lunge into pure chaos. And within the next second, he thrusts his hips forwards and effortlessly sheathes his entire length inside of me. I choke on the moan in my throat and my eyes roll back. “Ohhh…so tight, baby. Feel so…fucking good.” I can feel his cock throbbing inside me, like he’s fighting off his orgasm just after the first pump. He pulls out completely and pushes all the way back in, slowly picking up his pace. In a needy frenzy, I’m lifting my hips to meet his—fucking myself on his cock. “Fuck…you’re amazing…I should’ve done this the night I fucking met you, goddamnit,” he grunts. I nod repeatedly, having a difficult time putting words together. “Ugh, yes, you should’ve—fuck—you should’ve…oh, my God!” His eyes darken and I feel his hand collide with my cheek, making me gasp and grind upwards so my clit rubs against his pelvic bone. “Oh my god, yes!” I moan, throwing my head back. “Fuck!” I’ve turned ravenous at this point. His earlier statement describing me as brainless is now strengthening in integrity with every slick push inside me. “How dare you…how fucking dare you hide this body from me? You’re mine…” He’s practically growling in my ear. “…Mine…”

“…All…” *thrust* “…Of this…” *thrust* “...is…” *thrust* “…mine…” *thrust* He articulates between hard bucks of his hips. I whine and pout up at him, my breasts bouncing to and fro with every harsh slap of his skin against mine. “You filthy little bitch…always fucking yourself with your tiny fingers until you’ve bloody passed out…forcing me to come on myself when you’re just a room away…when you’ve been begging f’me through the wall…” He groans and hits my other cheek briskly. “…Sayin’ my name over ‘n over again like I’m not even there…it’s extremely rude of you, innit, Bunny?” I nod my head the best I can and whimper out, “Yes-s. You’re ri-ight. I-I’m sorry, D-Daddy…I’m s-sorry, Harry-y.” Harry scoffs and buries his face down between my jiggling tits, licking and sucking and biting all over them. He then pulls his face away and slaps both of them, back and forth, watching them bounce and redden from the impact. “You’re just a set of holes for me to come into whenever I want, aren’t you? Just a babbling little fucktoy…wanting me to toss ya ‘round and fuck you senseless.”

“Ohhh-my-god-yes!” I’m in absolute, utter bliss right now. Every hit of his palm, every toss of his hips, every time he degrades me—it all makes my lower tummy spark. The state of ecstasy I’m in is so strong that I don’t even have control over my body anymore. I’m pleading and begging and praising, grabbing and pulling and squeezing, all as if my limbs are possessed and the words I speak are merely from the voice of my subconscious. It’s all so chaotic—yet, the intimacy and closeness of our two bodies is so cohesive. It’s real. It’s emotional. It’s us.

This is how I’m meant to be fucked. This is what I’ve always needed. No one has ever exceeded every need the way that Harry is right now. And Harry has never felt so needed…So powerful. He wants to be this close to me for the rest of his existence. The sweet notes of my perfume mixed with the natural aroma of both our sexes are healing emotional wounds better than tea and honey cure a sore throat. I’m his, finally his.

His drenched cock ruthlessly stretches my sloppy-wet hole. Every plunge earns him another gush of hot juice that just seeps out from my lips as if I’m melting an ice cube inside of me. “I’m gonna fucking come…” he moans out, sweat dripping from his hairline. I squeeze around him. I’m close too. “…Fuck, Bun’…gonna pump all my cum inside this pretty cunt. That’s what you’ve always wanted, yeah? Want me to get y’knocked up?” My back arches off the bed. “Please…” He lowers his head down to suck on one of my nipples. “…Yes! Please come in me. Fuck…please! I’ve been so good for you, Daddy…” Harry lets my tit go with a ‘pop’ and grunts animalistically. “Mmm, you think you deserve it? Think you’ve earned my load, huh?” He ends his sentence with a single hard thrust and holds his hips still until we both are panting and dying to keep fucking—thus only lasting a few seconds before he’s rocking his hips furiously once more. I cry out, “Please come inside me. Give me all of it. Please, please, please!” Hot tears are actually streaming down my cheeks, cascading down to my neck, and some even dripping onto my bouncing breasts. Harry doesn’t let them go to waste, diving down to lap up the drops and trace the salty trails up my neck with his tongue. The strong grip of his ringed hand covers my throat. “You’re so pretty when you cry, Y/N.” He sighs and kisses my wet cheeks. “You’re gonna give me a baby.” I’m gonna give him a baby. “Let me give you a baby, Harry.” His hips stutter. “Oh my god, I love you.”

He pounds into me almost at a violent pace. The smacking of my fleshy thighs against his hips sounds so clearly like fucking. So desperate. So hard. Both of us swimming upstream, and gladly drowning in our own oceans of pleasure. I scream out and weakly grasp my dainty fingers around the front of his neck—mirroring his grip on mine–and I pull his face down so I can press my lips to his. The jerking of his hips becomes labored. The rhythm is sloppy. I can feel him twitch and pulse inside of me. “I love you,” I gasp against his lips.

The dam breaks. He curses and moans and juts his hips up into me mercilessly as if his life depends on it. His cum shoots out in long spurts, coating my womb with sticky white seed. I can feel each jet of release as it overflows me and drips down my ass, and a burst of cum hits my most sensitive spot. My own orgasm is triggered abruptly. I don’t even register my fingers reaching down to start rubbing my swollen clit. My pussy tightens around Harry like a vice and milks him for every last drop as he slowly pumps in and out of me, watching his cum-covered dick slide effortlessly while he chuckles and moans—still so turned on even in the aftermath of our debauchery. Within seconds, his entire body falls and his face buries itself in my hair. His cock is still sheathed deep inside me. It’s barely softened, still throbbing and twitching. Both of us are wheezing for breath. Every muscle has exerted its maximum amount of energy. The bed is our last support, holding the two of us in a pretzel of limbs snugly against its sheets. After a few minutes of breath regulation, Harry carefully pulls himself out of me. His cum then slowly flows out and covers my slit all the way down to my bum and onto the bed. Harry watches and smiles for a moment before looking back up to my flushed post-climax face—my eyelids heavy and a stupid grin on my lips that eventually turns into a giggle fit. The laughter is contagious and Harry ends up following suit.

Seemingly remembering the mess between my legs, Harry rakes a hand through his sweaty hair and looks back down to see his delectably messy creampie. “Oh…Shit. ‘M sorry, Bunny. Hold on.” He yanks himself up and off the bed, still stark naked, and makes haste towards the bathroom. But by the time he comes back with wet washcloths and a towel, I’m making a bigger mess. I’ve got both legs bent up to my chest, two of my fingers fucking his cum back into my pussy and curling up against my g-spot. I squeeze and moan as I climax against my hand, and I refuse to stop at just one. On my back with spread legs, I breathlessly ride my cum-covered fingers as Harry watches in awe. His spent cock flexes in approval of the sight before him. “You’re so fucking hot.” He grunts before dropping everything onto the floor and removing my hand, replacing it with himself. He slicks the underside of his cock up and down my drenched, sticky slit a few times, then pushes back home, making me sob as I orgasm around him again. He slowly grinds his pelvis into mine in a circular motion, ensuring he’s at his deepest point. Suddenly, I feel him sucking on my fingers, licking up our combined spend as his pelvic bone rubs my clit in slow strokes. I reach my face up to his for a taste and he grants me full access to his mouth, our tongues swirling together. But I want more. I lick up the last of his cum from my fingers hungrily.

“Ugh. Such a slut…fuck.” He groans, and I feel his cock release a couple more spurts of cum inside me.

A few minutes later, Harry and I are in the shower together. I’m hugging his middle as he slowly massages and rinses the shampoo from my hair with the handheld shower head. “Bunny?” My eyes are closed, enjoying this warm, peaceful wash session. Hearing Harry’s raspy voice makes me instinctually cuddle closer to his chest and smooth my fingertips down his back. “Mmhmm,” I hum against the slippery wing of a swallow. Suddenly, I’m aware of his fast heart rate and I’m no longer at peace. My eyelids pop open. “Harry…?” He releases a heavy sigh and hangs the shower head back up behind me before taking my hair in his hands and gently squeezing the water out. Still not saying a word. Now my heart is pounding. I grab his wrists and look up at him tentatively, but he pulls them down until he can encase my fingers with his. “I…” He hesitates.

Does he regret it now? Is this it? Is this the moment when my heart gets stomped on and shoved down the drain like undesirable mush? I think I’m gonna throw up—“I want you to know that I meant what I said…I love you, Y/N…” His eyes gloss over and he looks up at the ceiling to fight the growing moisture. “…And I know I probably just inseminated you, but—” We both laugh and he blushes. “But, uhm…fuck…I guess it’s a bit awkward to do this in the shower, innit…,” he gives me a lopsided grin, dimples and all. So cute. Whilst I’m distracted by Harry’s beauty, I’m slow to acknowledge how the man is cautiously kneeling down onto the slippery tile. My breath catches. “I, uh…” He clears his throat when his voice cracks. I’m suddenly extremely self-conscious due to the angle change, yet Harry is gazing up at me like I’m some sort of holy angel from the heavens. The foot he’s leaning his weight upon slips a little, and he grabs onto my thigh and I hold his shoulders as he finds his balance. I giggle at the situation—partially because of his clumsiness, and partially because I don’t really know what’s happening. The hot water sprinkles down lightly over the two of us like rain, droplets running down our bodies and the glass walls. Harry slips off his ‘S’ ring and takes a hold of my left hand. “…This is just a placeholder for now…but…Y/N…” He plants a soft kiss on the top of my hand. “…Will you marry me?” Holy fucking shit.

“Oh, so we’re just gonna skip the whole dating thing then?” His face immediately falls. “W-wha—” “—Am I not worth courting, Harry?” I give him my best sulk and he buys it. Ope, I guess I thought he’d call my bluff right away…Gotta shut this down!

I smile brightly and nod. “Fucking-duh, I’ll marry you, silly!” He playfully scoffs at my joke, sliding the too-large-ring on my little ring finger and stands back up to his full height—almost a foot taller than me. I’m then shoved against the back tile wall, one of my legs hiked up and draped over his elbow. I gasp as he enters me without warning. He bucks into me hard, brutal, slow. Each sound that he fucks out of me is louder and higher-pitched than the last. “Yeah, of course you’ll marry me, huh…be a good little housewife f’me…wait ‘til I come home every night so I can fuck another pint of my cum into your tight little twat…would you like that, Bunny? Hm?” I whine and clutch onto his hair with one hand as the other squeezes his strong shoulder. “Yes…it’s already my favorite part of the day…” He chuckles darkly against my lips before biting them. “‘N what’s that, Bun’?”

“Mmmhh…when Harry’s home!” I exclaim weakly, my ass smacking against the wet wall behind me. “Mmm, Harry’s home, baby…Harry’s home.”

______________________________________________________________

Sorry it took forever. I wanted to make it exactly the way I wanted. I hope you liked it.

:) ~ Regan

Taglist:

@daphnesutton

@victoria-styles

@pishhhh20989

@heyyyloverr

@youdontcaredoyou

@jerseygirlinca

120 notes · View notes

sushirrrry · 7 months ago

Text

EXECUTIVE a harry styles one-shot smut blurb; 19.3k words cw: oral sex (f receiving), fingering, dom/sub, breath play, dirty talk.

"If they want the fucking numbers, they've got to stop being pussies and give us the fucking reins. I'm not sitting around and waiting for their stock to crash and for their stupid, fucking minions to come back on me to tell me what I already knew and told them from the start—I'm not painted out to be the biggest fucking moron, that's for certain. It's either a deal or it isn't, plain and simple. If they don't want to have that fucking conversation, it's done. Fuck them and their stupid fucking counteroffer. It's a fucking slap in the face, and I'm not even entertaining the idea."

Harry pulled the phone away from his ear, clicking on End Call before he threw his phone over and onto the wooden desk that sat perpendicular to the vicious New York skyline. His heart raced as he shook his head.

An adrenaline junkie like him fed off of the conversations like these.

His sleeves were pushed up his forearms, his eyes navigated towards the contractual wreckage of paperwork that had seemed to be forgone on his desk as he pushed some of it to the side. His elbows leaned on the desk; his hands tied together as he rested his lips again them in a precocious thought.

Running the company came with a sharp tongue and a knack for knowing when it was time to push back. Harry was a mogul in all of the sense of the word—his company had grown to a gargantuan size, which allowed his position within the business to skyrocket to a level that was so without fail that he couldn't believe it sometimes.

His mouth got the better of him; in some ways, it created the effervescence of attack. It was all that he could do to keep himself from picking the phone back up and telling them to shove it all back up their ass—he refrained for the time being, until he was pushed again.

But no one usually poked the bear unless they truly believed they had a chance in slaughtering them. Mr. Styles was far too confident in his work and his business to ever let that happen.

The bear's claws reacted too quickly for the barrel of the rifle to even face him.

"Uh, excuse me, Mr. Styles?"

His eyes raised to the door that he hadn't seen opening before his lips parted just a bit to answer the woman questioning him. She wore a black skirt with tall, black boots that suited the length of her legs. Her top arranged in a bit of a messy manor, but it was almost as if she had styled it that way to add a bit of flare.

Her blazer hung a bit low—practically to the mid-length of the skirt that rode up her thighs, but he wouldn't have been caught dead staring. In public, anyway.

His eyes made their assessment of her quickly before returning to her naturally, raspberry lips that took up much of her lower face. The natural length of her smile was perfectly proportioned, not that he had spent much time thinking of it, of course.

Felicity—his assistant. The one with eyes the color of the ocean that he would vacation on in the Maldives; the most piercing, stunning blue. The quiet one, a bit shy in her reservations, almost like she was the smallest fish in the ocean made entirely of sharks. Her reservations to others seemed to aid in bulldozing over her confidence, but to Harry, it was an enticing spectacle of fantasy.

A fantasy he'd promise to never share with even his closest comrades, if an NDA wasn't in place, that is.

The dark brown locks settled against her back in heaps of loose, voluminous curls as she held tightly to the phone behind her fingers.

"Am I interrupting?" She asked, her question a bit hesitant as she didn't seem to move any further forward into the large space of his office.

"No—no, you're not," He told her, "Come in, Felicity, I need to use your brain for a moment."

"My brain?" She asked him, cocking her head a bit.

That was the thing about Felicity that almost made him foam at the mouth– her way of innocence and contemplation that allowed him to see his viewpoints from her standpoint.

Harry's company was outsourcing most of the global news which meant that he oversaw several departments within. His leadership was only as good as the recommendations and guidance that Felicity was able to provide him; her devil's advocacy, her interpretation of empathy, and being able to see how interactions happened without Harry present versus the other sense.

Felicity was a practical need in his company for various reasons, not one to just make his blood boil and frantically move around his veins every time he caught a whiff of the coconut lime scent that his mind had become familiar with.

She was a calmness to him in many ways, so her presence now settled his heartbeat from the previous conversation.

"That deal we're making this afternoon, I just got off the phone with Sadler and they're folding– they're becoming weak. And it's pissing my off. They're coming to me to help solve their issues, because they know I can do it. They're , but they know we'll do it. Which pisses me off because it makes us look weak if we just say yes."

Felicity blinked a few times as she watched Harry's reaction, her legs crossed at the feeling before she held her hands in front of her and nodded.

Harry sucked his lips into his mouth before he shook his head, a few of loose curls settled on his forehead as he pushed them back and Felicity wished that he hadn't.

"I think you're going to push them to do it without the counter," Felicity nodded. "From what I'm hearing, they're folding, and they can see that what we can provide is significant. Especially in terms of the election. We can do it– you can do it."

His eyes flew to her word change, noticing that her eyes had moved away from him. The subtle blush of pink ate away at her cheeks before Harry nodded in his own satisfaction.

"Enough about me," He shook his head, "What did you need, Felicity?"

Her eyes raised as it seemed she came back to conclusion about what she had been there for to begin with.

"Oh, I just talked with Nava at PLI and they wanted to express their gratitude towards you, because they said that you helped them with understanding the fundamentals of their offer and I thought it sounded like a for-sure deal– I just wanted you to know that Nava is a yes," She nodded and raised her brows again in remembrance, "Oh! And I'm also running to pick up some coffee and snacks before the board meeting. Flat white?"

Harry smirked at the praise from her, watching it leave her lips effortlessly. He nodded a few times at her question before he rose from his chair and grabbed the tie around his neck to loosen just a bit.

Harry grabbed the paperwork off of his desk before he moved towards the door and guided Felicity to follow. "Yes, please. A flat white with cinnamon, maybe a pump of caramel? What do you think?"

The words were like a question as Felicity walked next to him through the natural, brightly lit office. Her fingers tapped away at the device before she noticed the slight edge of the spicy cologne that wafted from his demeanor as he turned his head toward her.

"I'm not a huge fan of caramel," She stated a bit hesitantly as they stopped in front of one of the offices where Harry was about to go into a meeting.

He looked at Felicity as they stopped, his eyes moving up and down as he went from her lips to her eyes as if involved in a game of ping-pong.

"What do you like, then?" His words were soft, fluid.

Felicity swallowed as she shook her head a few times and nibbled on her lip. She hummed for a moment, "Um, I prefer vanilla."

The corner of Harry's lip moved upwards. "Make it a hot flat white with an extra shot of espresso, cinnamon, and a pump of vanilla, please."

Felicity wrote it down in her notes, but her fingers almost shook with adrenaline as she felt his gaze linger on her without her noticing before she nodded. "Great. I'll– uh, I'll leave now so I can be back in time to make sure you have what you need."

Her feet started to move away before she heard the booming sensation of her name. The way that her eyes fluttered back at him made Harry almost take a step backward.

"Uh," He felt speechless at the sudden look of her, "Please get whatever you need, too." He felt the professionalism start to creep its way back in. "Can't have you falling asleep on the job, you have notes to write."

Felicity bit the inside of her cheek before she nodded. "Yes, sir."

With that, Felicity turned her back and started to head down towards the elevators. Harry turned to make his way into the boardroom where he saw the table sitting and waiting for his arrival.

The hush that fell over the crowd made him shutter every time– the power he held echoed through his conscious at every moment it could.

He only smirked as he sat at the head of the table, pulling himself to sit up and lean on the table before he looked up to see the many eyes staring back at him.

"Shall we get to work then?"

__________________

"This coffee is fucking cold."

One of the board members pushed it away after taking a small sip, as Felicity had just sat it down in front of him.

It was an older gentleman– Hank– who had worked with the Styles family for many years and been able to help SCO with their major launches with other shareholders. His entitlement was present in the room, which pressed on her ego just a bit. Her head turned towards him as she shook hers.

A woman at the end of the time made a face as she looked at the side of the cup, "Ordered a fucking latte—they even messed it up and it's cold. The coffee shop is just down the block."

Felicity tucked some hair behind her ears as she shook her head in a bit of disbelief as she tried to find the receipt that the coffeehouse had given her. There wasn't any way that they gave her the wrong order, but she didn't know if there may have been a mix-up in who she gave the coffees to.

"T-That's impossible—I just order—" But she was cut off by the man who licked over his lips and held his hand up to stop her words from even echoing in the room at all.

"Just go get some hot coffee, would you?"

Felicity's eyes blazed around the room as she noticed that the others had practically ignored her efforts of the two full cardboard contents of coffee cups that she had practically run the streets of New York to pick up. Not only were they not even acknowledging her, but they were condescending in her efforts. Yes, she was an assistant—she wasn't their assistant. It wasn't her fault that she was one person, but she knew that she had to try harder to make the best impression that she could.

"Everyone just shut the fuck up and drink your coffees, would you? Our deadline is in six fucking hours. If you can't handle a little lukewarm coffee, get the fuck out of my office. I pay too much of your goddamn salaries for you to cry like a fucking baby."

Harry's eyes moved to the nervous-looking girl who stood by the door, along the edge of the buffet that held the rest of the coffee, donuts, and bagels that had practically been falling out of her arms when she arrived.

He couldn't tell—it may have been the lighting, but her eyes looked glassy as she tried to stand with her shoulders back. Harry caught her attention before she threw herself back together and walked over towards him, leaning down to where he sat at the table.

"I can run to go get something else, I don't think it would take too long, you know. Or I could order it to be delivered?" Felicity asked, a bit cautious, he could tell. But her piercing blue eyes were practically a shade of gray as he looked at them through her thick, tortoiseshell glasses that complimented the brightness of her eyes.

His eyes fell to the way that the chapstick she always applied gave her lips the most subtle peony color—so pink, but so natural. He thought that may be a better place for his eyes to land instead of directly into her eyes, but then he panicked for a moment and turned them back to her eyes.

"That's not necessary." Harry shook his head, answering for the individuals in the room. Even if they pushed their coffee aside, Harry would have never blamed it on Felicity for any failure—it wasn't her fault. He took a sip of his own; to his dismay, it was a bit cold, but he wasn't going to complain about it.

The stature of Felicity at the door made him take in a deep breath before he caught her attention, asking her to come towards him with just a look before she was practically on top of him. Her willingness to do as he said gave him a feeling of endorphins that were unlike any he had before.

Harry looked up at her from his seat, licking over his lips softly.

"Please make a reservation for two at The Malbec tonight at nine—whether or not these jackasses are going to be done working, I sure am, and I'm going to celebrate it. Add that I would like the executive seating and the Pauillac on the table, not chilled."

She nodded a few times at his requests, adding it into her notes on her phone before she looked back at him cautiously.

"Should I be arranging a car to pick someone up for you?" She asked. Her teeth scraping against her bottom lip as she waited for his response.

Harry shook his head back at her before filing through a few papers, "Not necessary today. Just make sure that you're not off the clock yet," He nods, "In case something doesn't go as planned."

Felicity nodded at the feeling of his eyes on hers before he turned to face the table before him.

"Someone get John on the phone," Harry ordered, his eyes going towards, "Hank. I want their numbers for the day and the plan for the fiscal year. I want to hear it from their lips, the spreadsheets don't mean shit if they're just going to lie to my face. Mary, contact PLI to get their rates."

Felicity had started to make her way towards the door, back towards her desk that sat in the main office towards Harry's own private one, before Harry called her back, "Felicity, sit in this meeting, will you? Grab your computer."

Her eyes narrowed at him in a bit of confusion before he stood up and grabbed a chair from the side of the room and pulled it to the spot next to where he was, at the head of the table.

Felicity did as he wished, leaving to grab her laptop and notebook essentials that she used to keep track of his days, his weeks. When she arrived back, she could feel a few eyes on her as they talked through the deal with John. The silence in the room as he spoke over the speaker was deafening before she sat down at the spot next to Harry.

His focus on the conversation made her attention turn towards him.

Working at SCO was one of Felicity's highest honors—she felt that her confidence was gained just by being in the room with some of these people. But, at the same time, she wondered at what point this would all get to her. She wasn't like this—she didn't have the same cutthroat mindset of tearing another down to get herself to another place.

In some respects, that's what was the balance between what Harry was and what he knew that he needed. He needed someone like Felicity to sit next to him—a calming sensation that he didn't ever notice until he would garner a sniff of the coconut shampoo that drifted from her silky chestnut hair.

It was sickening at times—the way he felt about her. When he was sitting next to her now, he watched as she let her fingers grace over the laptop keys, focused in on whatever task she was working on. His eyes moved away when he watched as her teeth loosened on her lower lip, letting the plumpness of it a drawback to a straightened line of her mouth.

He shifted in his seat as he felt himself get a sensation of pressure below the belt.

When he spoke, it was with a confidence that she couldn't seem to place. It was as if he could break and make with just words alone, a skill that he had to have been born with.

As they discussed the offers more in-depth, Felicity found herself distracted from her own work as she let her eyes gently maneuver back to where Harry sat at the end of the table. Her fingers practically stopped typing as she listened to the conversation and watched as his brain work in overtime.

It wasn't just impressive; it was extraordinary.

The narrowing of his brows, the calculated glance at the table as if he could cut through it with just his sight, the determined clench of his jaw.

"Don't fucking low-ball this," Harry practically snarled as he tapped the point of his pen to his notepad. "I know what's best for this company and we don't want people who underestimate the work and quality of our services. Globally, we're ahead of the entire market– we beat out every major network in significance. If you truly want to hand us a shitty number like that, you'll fucking fall. Your company will fail, and we will continue to sit right at the top as you lick the dirt off our shoes. It's not a competition; we've already won. So, do you want to win with us? That's the question here."

There's a slow chuckle on the phone, a bit of silence, too. Felicity looks up from her laptop to watch as a few members whisper to one another before hearing John on the other end.

"Listen, it's– we understand this. SCO is globally leading, but this is an election year– how are we supposed to gain traction when the news sources from SCO are against the current climate? We just don't see the same vision right now and we need to make sure our values are aligning– SCO may not be leading once the election happens."

Harry's eyes don't dim– Felicity watches as he turns different, his focus staying on the notepad under his fingers as he takes a beat before he stares at the phone in the middle of the table.

Her leg crosses under the table, gently caressing his unbeknownst to her. His eyes falter for once, as she retracts her position when she watches him crack for the first time. She noticed that he faltered but only a small huff of his breath before she bit her lip.

"We're a multi-billion-dollar company that focuses on the current political climate at hand since we completely understand the market, unlike someone who needs to be bought out to ensure that they don't sink. If you're just sitting in the open water, we will look the other way when a shark comes by," Harry shrugs, "I don't quite understand your vision of understanding moral compasses when you're sitting on significant lawsuits and company fouls that don't seem to benefit you right now or the lying, cheating words that come from your mouth."

Felicity's eyes flew up from her place at the table, watching as she saw everyone else's down. It was an unmistakable feeling of vigor that suddenly oozed from the place of Harry's seat. His demeanor was powerful, it was penetrable.

The quietness over the phone doesn't seem to faze anyone else, but Harry's eyebrow arches at the seconds that go by before he pops his tongue into the side of his mouth with a cheeky grin that was questioning on mad.

"Looks like they just got eaten by that fucking shark, huh." He says quietly before leaning over to press onto the conference room phone. He ended the call before he watched the room continue in silence.

Another woman, Laura, sitting at one of the sides spoke up as she held her phone in her hands.

"It looks like they're countering again." It was a bit quiet, almost like she didn't want the entire room to hear as she read on her phone before looking up at Harry, who held the emotion of a bear.

"Tell them they can choke on their own spit." He bites before Felicity cleared her throat.

His eyes immediately softened at the way that she interrupted, mostly because he was a bit confused by it.

"Mr. Styles," She pipped, "I—I, um, if I may." She chews on her lip a bit before she takes in a breath. "It sounds like they're needing a bit more leverage. Maybe a bit more face-to-face interaction that will cut and garner the deal. You're going to need more than John's input; he needs more intel from other aspects to understand what their losses look like."

Harry's eyes simply rest on Felicity as he leans back in the office chair, his legs crossed—a pursed pout on his lips as he nods at her words. A trickle of egotistical pride lies beneath his chest as he stares at her for a moment.

"Set the scene for me." He tells her, before watching Felicity take a deep breath. He watches her chest fall and rise and something about it sets him into high gear.

"Your family started this from scratch—this company is bigger than just the cash flow, and it's completely understood that it's worth billions, but they need to understand that there's a larger purpose for the work that they've put into it. They're not on the same business level that SCO is—it's apparent by the way that they throw around their value system. Meet with John outside of the office setting, get him where he can be able to see that you're serious without the psychological barrier of the phone—"

"That's fucking bullshit." Felicity hears from down the table, another man making a comment about her complete train of thought that. "You really think business is about emotion?"

Harry narrowed his brows, Felicity a bit surprised but not completely. Her head turning back towards her computer.

"You need to be thinking internally for what's best for us, not babying them to give us what we want. You know they're going to fall right into our hands, we don't need to get soft on them." Mary, a woman that Felicity generously thought would at least have an understanding of her interests, seemed to shame her more.

Harry pursed out his lips as he stares at the notepad in front of him. He pushed his hands against the table to rise from his seat before he's raised, watching silently as he eyes Felicity quickly before he starts to make his way out of the room. Before he does so, he turns his back and holds onto the door before he looks at Felicity directly.

"Felicity, please meet me in my office."

She swallows down the lump in her throat; cursing herself for even making a peep. She knew she should have kept her mouth shut. Instead, she closed the laptop before she grabs the few belongings and makes her way out of the door.

Harry is steps ahead of her, not looking back, as they make their way to the office that sits in the north side of the larger office space.

When he walks in, he makes his way to his desk before leaning on it. Felicity walks in behind him, hesitating before

Harry notices that she hasn't fully made her way in yet.

"Come in," He tells her, "Take a seat."

Her words practically spilling out of her as soon as they reached the threshold of the door; there was nothing that she could say now that would make him keep her there, but she wanted to at least try.

"I-I know I overstepped my boundaries– I promise, I really do, I promise I will never do that again," She's holding the laptop against her chest, practically begging, "This is extremely unprofessional, but you need to know that I need this–"

"Do you know why you're still here, Felicity?" He asks, "Why you're still at SCO?"

His interrupted words make hers fall short as she stands at the door still. His arms are holding himself practically against the desk as he leans back against it.

Tears threaten her eyes as she tries to think of what she needs to pack from her desk quickly. This feels entirely too personal– he's firing her on the spot.

She shakes her head as she doesn't want to come up with an answer. Harry squints his eyes a bit as he notices the emotion that starts to creep on her face. All the sudden, he feels bad for what he's doing to her.

It feels a bit forward, maybe a bit out of his place. But he needs her to know exactly how he feels about her, and why the last assistants never stuck around.

He needs her to know that's she's different.

"It's because you're fucking smart," He tells her, "What you have, they lack. You have this– well, for lack of a better word, you're emotional. You can see beyond the bullshit and really down to the person." He points towards the area of the conference room that they just left.

"I'm not here to baby your ass or carry you through this job– you don't need this fucking job. You have so much more about you than being an assistant, okay? So, don't take what some fuckers in that office say about you and your ideas as gospel. They aren't getting it done, either– as you can see."

Felicity's demeanor loosens at his words; her knuckles along the laptop at her chest starts to loosen as she breathes in just a bit.

"I'm sorry–"

"Stop apologizing." He orders, "When you do that, all you're doing is making them right about you. They aren't."

There's a silence between them for a moment before Felicity nods a few times and bites at her lip. "You're right."

"Most of the time." He tells her, a smirk has replaced the seriousness of their conversation. "That's why I have this big office and a 300ft. yacht and they don't."

She follows with her own small, sided smirk, watching as he goes to move from his position.

"That sounded very cocky, I'm sorry." He laughed a little bit, lowering his head as he felt a bubble of laughter. Felicity followed behind, laughing a bit as she bit on her lower lip.

The tension had been cut; this overwhelming feeling of comfort had started to come across her, specifically when Harry looked back up at her and she could see the shining level of his green eyes and the deepening dimples crossing his face.

It wasn't an emotion she saw very often; it looked impossibly lovely on him.

"Stop saying sorry, remember?" She reminded him, a sheepish smile laying on her lips.

Harry moved his fists into his pockets as he started to walk a bit towards her.

It was then that Felicity recognized that his pure power and force was enough to knock her down to her knees. The way that he stood up, his suit tailored perfectly around his small hips and shoulders, she couldn't understand the feeling that had come over her suddenly.

Harry approached her, they were standing eye to eye as he searched between them both. He had been searching for something, surely, by the way his eyes moved between her own.

Felicity tipped her chin up a little bit; it was slight enough that they both noticed, but a sudden embarrassment crossed her thought at the way she had possibly invited a completely inappropriate behavior.

"Let's get back in there, yeah?" She clears her throat as she turned her head and body, moving back out towards the conference room.

Harry's fists tightened next to him at the way she moved away, and he couldn't help but shutter at what could have possibly happened moments ago.

He lowered his head before he shook it a few times, "Yes, of course," He confirmed, nodding at her, "I'll follow you back, I'm just going to," He felt himself getting hot which made him feel vulnerable to her stares. "I'll be in there in a moment."

Felicity turned, her hair falling over her shoulders before she nodded. "Yeah, no problem."

Before she was able to move out of the room, Harry caught her attention once again before he narrowed his eyes to her. "Can I—that reservation I asked you to schedule. Please move it to Friday night. Something's come up, actually."

Felicity made a motion to speak, but she didn't end up with any words. Instead, just nodding a few times, her eyes smiling back at him as she agreed to his request. "Sure, no problem."

Her smile had vanished from his view as she turned to walk back to the conference room.

When she noticed that she was out of sight, his eyes had widened just at the breath that he had been holding in. It didn't matter how big or important a meeting could be, Harry never got nervous. He was never worried about anything—he knew what he was getting himself into, and nothing scared him. There wasn't a reason to be.

Standing in front of Felicity was a feeling he had never imagined would give him a doubt; he never felt like he would be pushed away or turned away, and the feeling of dismissal was encapsulating, to say the least.

He pushed his hand into his hair as he went to sit in the chair that was pushed in behind his desk, swallowing the lump in his throat as he shook his head.

Never in a million years did he think that he would feel such a way—never like this.

"Let's get back to work, then."

_______________

It had been a few days since the encounter in his office. Harry had noticed that even the next morning, Felicity seemed to be in much better spirits. Her head was held high; her shoulders were sitting back, like she was prepared to keep her chin up for the day.

He could catch glimpses from his office, watching as she typed away or smiled down at her phone. A piece of him felt only the slightest bit of—he didn't know the feeling very well—jealous. He wanted to know more, wanted to understand what she could have been smiling at.

He knew that his job had been done a few days ago as he watched her spirits rise just at his words. Something about that feeling was missing now—he didn't understand what it was, but his ego may have been getting in the way just a bit.

Harry sat his pen down that he had been using to write out some tasks before he grabbed the pad of paper and started to make his way out of his office. The small desk that sat outside of his was taken by Felicity; a few photos and memorabilia sat to give her space a bit of light and personalization.

It didn't mimic Harry's own office very well, as his was kept more straightforward and narrower. There wasn't any photos or personalized mementos—just plain, really. But the photo of Felicity and another man caught his eye, something he had never really seen before. Something he never felt that he would have had to pay attention to, that is.

"That your boyfriend?" He felt himself saying, but an ultimate feeling of embarrassment rose as he watched Felicity look up at him quickly. It was clear that she hadn't really noticed him sneak up on her, and her hands flew to the phone on the desk before closing the screen promptly.

"Uh," She shook her head, "I—I mean, we've been talking a few months," She referenced to the phone before she looked back at Harry and noticed that there may have been a bit of miscommunication.

"Oh—uh, no, sorry," He shook his head, pointing to the photo that sat on her desk. "I was—that photo, I'd never seen that before."

Felicity turned her eyes towards the photo that sat on her desk in the black frame before letting out a breath of relief. "Oh! No, that's my brother." She laughed a little bit before she watched Harry reach out to grab the picture frame off her desk.

He studied it for a few seconds, letting his smile move up a bit before he sat it back down. "Yeah, you guys look alike. I just—it was new, so I didn't know."

Felicity bit on her lip before tucking her hair behind her ears, "No—yeah, I would make that assumption, too. It's fine, but yeah." She didn't know that he would notice that she set up the photo or not. She knew now that he paid attention; he had an attention to detail, it seemed.

The small moment gave Harry a bit of concern as he felt that there was some unresolved feeling between the two of them. He cleared his throat, holding the paper out before her as she piqued at the small task guide that Harry had been feverishly writing down.

"I have a few things that I need to get done today, if you don't mind." He had handed her the paper before her eyes ran over it a few times. "It's just a few little things, but I need to have a few suits dry-cleaned for our business summit on Monday in England—I'm flying out tomorrow morning on the jet, but we'll need to make sure that everything is taken care of for that. I believe you, myself, Laura, Hank, Daniel, and probably William will be there, so we'll need to make—"

"Excuse me, but," Felicity chuckled before shaking her head a few times. "Did you say me?"

Harry blinks a few times in confusion before he bites the inside of his cheek. Surely, she knew that she would be leaving in the morning– she had to have known that as his assistant, she would be most responsible for being on the trip.

"Uh, well," Harry blinked, "Yes, I mean. of course. You're the most vital person for the trip, really."

Felicity bit into her lip before she turned towards her notes, her eyes flickering over them as she realized she wouldn't need to send him a detailed email of their agenda– she'd be there to tell him in person. So, all this work—it didn't matter now.

"Right– yeah, of course. I'm stupid for not putting that together." She shook her head as she took in a sigh, crossing out a few notes on her pad. She turned her attention back to him before she cleared her throat. "What time should I be at the airport tomorrow, then?"

Harry bit his lip, shrugging as he felt the smile crossing his lips, "I don't know—you tell me. You're my assistant."

Felicity blinked at him a few times before laughing out a little bit, letting her head rest in her hands as she felt a bit ridiculous for feeling so caught off guard. "Right—right. I—yeah."

In the back of his head, there was a delicate feeling of intrigue that bit at the back of him. He squinted his eyes a bit as he settled against the edge of her desk. As he crossed his arms over his chest, he narrowed his attention down to Felicity until she looked up at him and felt the wandering look. All Felicity knew is that she didn't want to look at the way that his forearms protruded against the fabric of his pressed white button-down.

"Is everything alright?" He asked her, the smile on his lips tug briefly before he was letting it fully on display. "You seem a bit... caught up."

She blinked a few times, shaking her head as she looked at her computer screen. "I'm fine—yeah. I'm just—I was a bit caught up, I guess," She chewed on her lip as she realized that getting personal was just that. It was personal. She didn't want to bore him or let know too far in. Their relationship was strictly business; it seemed that she endeared him though.

Her eyes traveled back to him when he didn't seem to leave her alone and she noticed that she'd had another message.

"I'm just... the guy I've been seeing, well, on and off—he just asked me to dinner and he's picking me up from here tonight around five. We haven't seen each other in a while, he's a bit..." She bites her lip again as she tried to find the right word, "I don't hear from him often. But when we're together, everything is fine. So, I guess I just got a bit overwhelmed with it."

Harry pinches the inside of his bicep when she speaks, his smile fading just a bit. He didn't want her to notice that, though. He didn't know why, but it left a sour taste in his mouth to think that she had been excited for someone who was making her wait. Instead, he shifted a bit on the desk as he cleared his own throat before speaking.

"That's—that's great," He tells her, watching as she smiles at his appreciation and acceptance, "Where is he taking you?"

"We're just going to this place off from fifth avenue, some place he said is nice. We're really just meeting for a beer or something." Felicity's eyes light up at the realization before she turns to face him a bit head on now, her chair swiveling around before she crosses her legs and faces him. "What about you, though? That reservation I made for you tonight—who are you meeting with?"

Harry's lip parted as he remembered the reservation.

He remembered the reservation he had moved to tonight, simply so that he could flesh out a few details with Felicity over a dinner with just the two of them. Of course, he hadn't mentioned it to her. It was stupid of him to think that she wouldn't be busy on a Friday evening, of course. He had wanted to talk to her about the upcoming week; maybe get a little more out of her if everything was off the record at a dinner that wasn't going on the company credit card, but his own personal dollar.

Harry shakes his head a bit before he scratches at the back of his head, "Uh, right. I—I might need to cancel that. I don't think that's going to happen anymore."

Felicity watches his expression before she seems to mimic with a bit of somber. "Oh. Sorry. Tough subject?"

When he pushed himself from her desk, he placed his hands in his pockets before he hung his head a little bit. It hadn't occurred to him that the disappointment had been a bit stronger than anticipated-- and it wasn't just because he always got what he wanted.

"Hm, something like that," He tried to explain before he changed the subject to get it off his mind, "But yeah. So, dry-cleaning and all that can be finished before the morning, yeah? If you have any questions about any of that, I'll be in my office. Meeting at one and then I'm going to leave here around five."

Giving him a warm smile, Felicity nodded her head at him, watching as he turned to his office.

Her attention fell back to her phone; falling back to the smile and giddiness that had been so rudely interrupted by a different kind of feeling—one that she wasn't so sure she was supposed to enjoy, in that way, anyways.

_______________

The black Suburban pulled up against the curb; Harry's phone against his ear as he moved towards the vehicle in a fluid motion.

A driver had opened the door before he crawled in the back seat. The call on the other end had been a business call that he was supposed to listen in on; he wasn't going to speak, just listen to the meeting of what was said. He decided it had been enough and clicked it to end before he looked up and out of the window.

His head turned towards the door before he watched Felicity standing at the curb. She looked uncomfortable as she stood and had her eyes searching for whatever it was that she was looking for.

It was a little bit past six then; the rest of the day was filled with a meeting or two before he really started to get more work, letting his head get wrapped up in taking calls and finishing off emails before he would be away from the office for a bit.

This was how they left each other on most days; his car pulled up, and he usually drove away before he could notice if she caught another ride or if she headed towards the subway. Her eyes were searching— almost like she had been waiting for something or someone but didn't want to seem disappointed. Harry could feel it in his chest—he could feel the way that she stood with her arms crossed over her chest in a bit of distress.

It had occurred to him then that Felicity had mentioned that she was supposed to be picked up around five—a full hour ago.

The rain had started just a bit, enough that she quickly looked to the sky for a moment as if to curse it.

He watched as her phone fumbled in her hands. A discerned look on her face made him halt the driver before they could start pulling away. Harry watched her, the knowing look on his face as he rolled down the window to call out towards her.

"Felicity," He stated, opening the door before he stepped out. "Come on, get in."

Her eyes looked to him, practically mortified. Her head started to shake a bit before he moved out of the car just enough that she noticed his offer was serious and that he wasn't moving. The door was open now as he stood outside of it and held it open for her.

"Let's go– it's raining." He said, squinting a bit as the rain started coming down a bit more.

It seriously took Harry a moment before he realized that it may take a bit more for Felicity to listen to him; her contemplation didn't last long as the rain started to hit the cement loudly—her papers and bag held over her head as she made her way towards the open door of the large vehicle.

Felicity's heels clicked against the sidewalk as she hurried into the back of the van, crawling across to the other side and trying to keep her skirt down as she realized he would be coming right behind her.

There was a brief pause of silence when the door shut behind Harry.

Once they were situated in the backseat, Harry looked at her for a moment as she seemed a bit out of sorts. Her eyes were on her phone as she cleared her throat.

Her eyes were narrowed down as she searched through some texts, a bit all over the place it seemed. Harry knew Felicity better than this, and her nerves were starting to overwhelm her hand, almost like she was completely unsure of what was happening right now.

"Do you just—do you mind dropping me off at fifth ave—" She had started, but he was already shaking his head.

"He's not showing up, so no. Peter, drop us at The Malbec."

Her head turned towards him at the bluntness of his tone and the way that he resisted her need. The way that he answered her was unlike he had ever spoken to her; that caught her off guard the most.

Felicity flipped through her texts once again before she scoffed out, "Harry, I have a date tonight. I'll just get a car from there—"

"No, you won't." He told her, before situating himself in the back. The way that her hair had a bit of windswept to it, the length of her lashes, the complete blush of her cheeks—it was all enough for him to generally bust at the seams.

Seeing her like that was a wake-up call as he looked away and tried his best to be a gentleman.

"I'm off the clock, so my duties are relinquished for the night." She told him sharply, giving herself a bit more voice before Harry really glared at her this time. He had never heard her speak to him in such a way, but something about it gave him a mouthful to bite from.

"Don't fucking talk to me like that, I'm your boss." He told her; his eyes seemingly turning a darker color the more she stared at him. It was enough for her to scoff and turn her head out of the window as they had started to drive up towards the restaurant that she refused to go to.

Harry spoke again, this time a bit softer. "It's just dinner. No work."

It takes a moment before Felicity leans into the window and lets her head rest against the glass. The feeling of the coolness takes over before she shuts her eyes for a moment. It doesn't feel like she wants to cry, but maybe there's a bit of emotion that she can't seem to let go of.

The disappointment aspect was never good to her; that was how this always worked. Something always disappointed her. There hadn't been a moment when she felt comfortable or safe—no, really, she just wandered around in this life with so much hope. So much hope and very little pride, now.

She lived for the hope of it all.

When they made their way to the restaurant, it had started to rain a little less. It was merely a sprinkle before Peter pulled off to the curb closest and the two of them were able to get out.

Felicity was instructed that she could leave her work items in the car, bringing only her purse as Harry followed behind her. When they walked into the restaurant, her eyes widened at how fancy it was—the dim lit lights were much brighter than the sky had been at this time of day, especially when the clouds rolled in.

The host was able to take them directly to their seats—the ones that Felicity had made the reservation for. It was an intimate seat; two chair and a small table that were seated close to the window, but enough away from everyone else.

The Paulliac was on the table as instructed; the host pulled the chair out for Felicity before she was able to take a seat. The only reason she would have ever been to a restaurant like this is for a work event. The host sat menus in front of them before giving them some space.

Harry pushed his sleeves up on his forearm; the littering of tattoos on him was endearing to Felicity's eye before she looked away at the attention she was drawing to them.

"Wine?" He asked her softly, taking the bottle from the table and holding it out in a means to offer her some. She had agreed, nodding a few times before looking at the menu and the items on it. Surely, she couldn't pronounce half of them before she looked up to see that Harry had been looking at her already and her cheeks grew rosier.

Felicity felt that there was a tenseness now, like she didn't have too much to say. She didn't want to say too much and bore him, she didn't want to not say a word and feel the awkwardness that seemed to linger as they sat longer.

"I mean, since we're here," Felicity grabbed the phone from her purse as she scrolled through it, pushing her hair out of her face to tame it a bit from the frizz that the rain caused, "So, just to recap some new additions to the calendar, you have a dental appointment next Monday, a meeting with PLI at 10—"

"You said you grew up in DC, didn't you?" Harry cuts her off, his question making her turn to look at him with a solid glance before she starts to nod a few times. It was a bit unwarranted, but she decided that she would settle into it.

Felicity doesn't know why his soft voice seems so foreign from the bitter sound of his usual bite.

"Y-Yes, yeah, I grew up in Northern Virginia, actually." She gives him a solid answer before she licks her lips. Her hand moves to grab the wine glass, taking a solid sip before she places it back into its spot on the white knit tablecloth.

Harry nods at her simple answer, not necessarily looking for anything else. His head was filled with the worked he had been processing through the week, and something about this felt... warranted. He wanted this to be normal; to feel like she could see him from a different perspective, maybe, without less fear in her eyes.

Something about her makes his blood boil with a derailment—it's almost like he can't seem to read her, which makes him angry and animalistic, almost. He doesn't know why but he feels a bit shy in her presence.

Her eyes read over the menu before she clicks her tongue, "Anything on here that you would recommend?"

"You have any food aversions?" He asks, pretending to look over the menu as if he didn't already know what he was going to order.

She shook her head, not really thinking of anything. She knew that there were foods she didn't particularly enjoy, but she knew that if something was going to be expensive, she would put that aside to at least try.

When the waiter came by, Harry took initiate to order for the table– the two of them. He ordered an entrée, three appetizers, and a spring salad. Felicity listened as he did so, knowing that he knew what he wanted and when he wanted it.

She couldn't relate to that; not these days, at least. She didn't know what she wanted, so she pretended not to think about it most days. Instead, she recognized that not putting the pressure on it made it feel like it was enough; she had to understand that she was okay to be a bit unsure at times.

The restaurant has a crowded chatter amongst the guests, but Harry can't help but pay attention to the silence of the table instead.

"So," He pulls at the tie around his neck just a bit as he leans towards her at the table. "I'm thinking of possible meeting with PLI, in person. Like you mentioned this week, at that meeting. Something about looking someone in the eye might be the best approach and making sure everything is clean."

His eyes lifted to meet hers, watching as she took another sip of the wine. Her eyes were placed now on her hands that laid in her lap.

"Thought this wasn't a work dinner." She mumbled out, but suddenly caught herself, "But yeah– yeah, I think that would be good."

Harry pressed his tongue into his cheek, tilting his head a little bit as he heard her questioned statement. His frustration at not being able to read her was posing a threat to his mood before he shrugged a little bit, "It doesn't have to be, but you are kind of quiet, and I feel like I made you uncomfortable in the car. Or something."

"I'm not uncomfortable," She lied, "I'm– I don't know. I'm just a bit thrown by the events of the evening, and I think men are kind of preposterous right now. Please don't take that personally, and really, no offense or anything."

Harry shrugged, his lips turning downwards as he contemplated the truth in her statement, "None taken. I may agree with you, but," He licked his lips, "Can we agree that women are sometimes a bit..."

As he hesitated for a moment, Felicity spoke instead. "I would suggest that you not finish that sentence, probably. It sounds like the beginning of an HR concern."

Harry lifts a brow in curiosity from her argument that seemingly pushed her a bit out of the boundaries, "You can speak, but I can't? Don't believe that's a fair view of how you think women should live in society, is it? You want fair treatment, so I'm going to be honest with you."

"I didn't limit you from speaking, I just suggested that you should not. You can definitely say whatever it is that you'd like to say to me, Mr. Styles." Felicity shook her head a bit, tucking her hair behind her ear. The way that she said his name always made him a bit woozy.

There was a moment when Harry wasn't completely sure that he didn't see the glimmer in her eye—that he didn't see a sparkle that may have been a fleeting moment, just a quick nod to him before it was gone forever, making him look mad for even thinking it in the first place.

"I will say it, then, if you're willing to listen," Harry told her, "I think that men and women aren't usually equal—nor should they be," He paused for a moment before he watched as her facial expression started to contour with a confusion so loud that he was certain the chefs in the back could hear. "I think that we live in a balancing act. For instance, the guy that you were looking to see—sure, he's probably an asshole, but you continued to want to see him. The pendulum works both ways. Maybe you shouldn't have wanted to meet up with him."

Felicity scoffed out a breath before she took a sip of the wine again—she could feel that there was a growing fuzziness that she wasn't able to keep up with. "Oh, you're giving me relationship advice now?"

The way that she bit when she had a bit of alcohol in her made Harry's eyes turn a darker shade of green that was unable to be noticed by the dimness of the restaurant that sat in. It was much more direct than she ever had been with him before; he wondered if this was how she was normally.

"I like to think I have your best interest in mind." He tells her with full honesty, feeling a bit bare with the truth laying flat on the table.

There is a moment that Felicity feels her heartstring tug, wondering if he meant it to hit her as specifically as it did. But she clears her throat when she watches the way that Harry refills the glass of red wi the out her asking for it, noticing that he fingers tremble when he grabs the bottle.

"I— I really do appreciate it, like, what you– I mean, you probably don't remember, but just this week with the whole coffee incident–"

Felicity is cut-off, by him, but she can see that the anger peculates off of him as he recalls the incident, "I hate that they think people are below them like that. It bothers the shit out of me," She can tell that the thought bothers him; his eyes narrow down as he takes a sip of his own wine, "Yes, it's your fucking job, but it's also not worth their time to be shitty to you for something you can't control. And you couldn't be nicer, grateful, kind—"

Harry's cut off by the food coming to the table. He shakes his head at the possible embarrassment he may encounter from the softness of rambling he had started to portray about some of her highest qualities.

The dinner that came out was exceptional— nothing less of what Felicity could have imagined. It was top-tier; the wine that was paired with it made her giggle a few times when Harry would go on rants about the way that he thought some of the companies ran. He would start the conversation with, 'off the record' and she would smile about how he could keep their conversations low.

It wasn't until she had told a soft-spoken jab about how she believed that he needed to stop hiring old, white men that she noticed that his dimples were parallel on either side of his face. They lit up his features, turning his eyes the color of a southern sky.

When they had finished, Harry took the check with ease and signed his name in capital letters, as if he wanted everyone to know that he had spent the amount of money at dinner that she spent in a month of rent.

Harry placed his hand on the small of her back as they maneuvered out to the car. The street was starting to become a bit crowded, especially at the door for the wait. Harry had texted his driver to make sure they could be picked up, which again, he made sure to open the door for her as they flew into the backseat.

Felicity told the driver where she needed to go; back to her apartment that sat on the upper West side of the city. It was close to Central Park; a few blocks away, she'd say.

There's a moment when Harry feels that he doesn't want the night to end. He surely doesn't want to watch her leave— that's for sure. The car ride is spent with him catching her glances as they watch the lights in the city pass by; the honking of the cars and the putter of rain starts to encapsulate the backseat.

"Is this good for drop off?" The driver asks, looking in the rearview mirror at Felicity before she nods, agreeing with a soft yes, and starts to collect her things. The items she had brought from work were still in their place.

Harry watched as she goes to speak, knowing that it was going to be a goodbye. He would surely see her in the morning, but he couldn't bare the idea of flying across the ocean, staring at her across the seat from himself, without any words left unspoken.

"Uh," He shifted a bit in the back of the car, Felicity could see that he was looking up towards the building that she called her own. "Do you actually mind if—uh, I really have to piss."

Her eyes widened a bit before she let her own lips widen into a smirk. "Oh— yeah, please."

It hadn't occurred to her until they were walking up the steps and into the building that she may have had some underwear on the floor and could potentially have a sink filled with dirty dishes— she couldn't quite remember.

But what she did know was that Harry was following in her steps as they climbed a few flights until they reached the third floor.

"Quite a workout, huh?" Harry puffed as they reached the front door to her specific apartment.

"Hm," She hummed, "Imagine having to move all of my furniture up here. I had to ask random men on the street to help me."

Felicity digs into her purse before she's able to find the keys to the front door.

"I don't want to be super nosy," He looked around the small vestibule that they were standing in while Felicity tried to find her keys—even though the purse she held was naturally quite small. "But is there any reason you live in a place that resembles a prison?"

Felicity chuckled out a laugh before she found the small keyring and tried to put it into the lock. Her hands were a bit unsteady—the wine was holding the buzz over her as she steadied her hands to unlock the small door.

"This is what livable looks like in New York," The door swung open; Felicity moved into the tiny apartment before placing her bag on the kitchen counter. "Maybe I need to have a discussion with my boss about a raise."

It wasn't the smallest apartment, but it was exactly what she needed. There was no storage space, but there was a separate room for each need—living room, kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom. She had a small working office in the corner by the balcony that she had been lucky enough to score from this specific unit.

Harry looked around the place, his eyes feasting on every detail. "That can probably be arranged if I can be certain that you won't get mugged getting into your front door."

He noticed how lived in it felt—the opposite of the cool, modern, high-end penthouse he would resort to later that evening. Everything was painted a different color of beige, keeping the lightness of the empty place very noticeable.

There were photos on the walls, painting and portraits, there were words that resembled some of her favorite music and books. It was colorful and there were plants that were seemingly a bit out of control.

"The bathroom is right there, by the way." Felicity pointed, before Harry turned towards the small room to his left.

"Thanks." He stated before he moved into it and shut the door behind him.

It was the same reaction he had to the living room and kitchen; his eyes narrowed in on the details of the shower curtain and the small bottles of serum that sat along her sink. The way that her toothbrush was bright pink, matching the towels that hung on the wall.

There were delicate parts of her that he was certain she wouldn't have told him about because she didn't think that it mattered. But in the long run, he liked the bits of color and the pieces of art that hung next to her sink.

It was a detail he hadn't really thought about of her before.

When he had come back, he stared at her position in front of the sink. Her sleeves were rolled up as she washed a few dishes that had been sitting there. Her heels has been removed, but the jacket and the short skirt still hung from her delicate frame as he watched the way that she focused on a task.

She noticed that he was looking at her now before she gave a small smile and felt that he wasn't in a hurry to leave.

"I would offer you something to drink—I mean, I would offer you anything, but I'm not really," She looked around the kitchen. "I have coffee and vodka. And not like," She scrunched her brows together as she looked in her fridge. "Not good vodka. You would look down on me if I served you this, kind of vodka."

Harry let his smile tilt up a bit as he meandered into the small space of the kitchen. If she was offering him anything—

"You really think I'm that much of a snob?" He smirked.

Felicity huffed a little bit as she turned her head towards him, "The wine we drank tonight was $600 a bottle."

He doesn't say anything for a moment before he tilts his head a bit and shrugs off the comment. He wonders if she thinks of him differently—not for being her boss, but for having a high taste. Possibly the earlier of the two, too.

"I grew up that way, I guess. It's hard to decipher what's normal." He tries to explain to her, which makes her look at him with a mockery of a face. Her eyes roll with a smile, and he gives her a look of disdain.

She goes to respond to him, but instead he moves his body practically over top of her back to grab the vodka that sits on the second shelf of the fridge. It's a bottle that cost Felicity about $12.75 just the other week, and it has a good amount still left in it. Harry holds the neck of it in his hands before he looks at it and sets it down on the counter.

"Lemons? Juice? Anything?" He asks; taking the liberty himself to look through one of the cabinets to try and find himself a glass. Felicity stays still for a moment before she's able to grasp the magnitude of the situation.

Her boss—Harry Styles, CEO, is standing in her kitchen and trying to make himself a cocktail with her $12.75 vodka that she had bought at the bodega just a few days prior. He's perusing through the cabinets—the few that she had—before he turns to her.

"Uh, I have a bar cart." She tells him solidly, before she moves her way into the living room where the car sat. Her head is feeling fuzzy, and she wonders if adding the vodka to it will make her completely lose all faith in herself. She has a feeling it will make her say something absolutely ridiculous, to him of all people.

Felicity grabs the shaker, two glasses, a lemon from one of the small bowls that she uses for décor but also for moments like this and makes her way to the kitchen where Harry has already taken the ice trays out. When he looks back up at her, he nods back to where she came from, her eyes following his gaze.

"Go sit on the couch, let me make you a drink." He tells her, "You had a long week."

"I'm going to be completely honest with you," She folds her hands together before he looks at her with a bit of a concerned look, "I don't know if I like the roles reversed like this."

He gives her a smug smile before he turns back to what he had been doing previously; now filling up the shaker with ice before he poured a few seconds worth of vodka into it.

"You think I'm a stuck-up prick," He tells her, "Let me show you that I'm not, will you?"

The statement that he left on his lips settled in the air between them; Felicity blew it away as she breathed outwards and just nodded in place. She suddenly became a bit meek before she made her way back to the sofa where she settled into the cloudy cushions, sitting with her legs underneath of her as she tried not to flash anything from her skirt. She heard Harry mixing the cocktails in the glass shaker, shortly before coming out with two glasses in his hands.

He hands over a glass that looks solemnly... clear. Maybe a bit too clear, but she felt satisfied to know that he was trying his best to make a spot in her world. She didn't have to climb to his level, he was trying to stay at hers.

"To..." He trailed off as he held his glass up to her. The small loveseat that they sat on felt incredibly intimate all the sudden.

"To... London?" Felicity stated, "To having to be up tomorrow at five, but continuing to drink even though we can get to London."

Harry laughed at her words before he clinked his glass against hers, "To London."

The way that his accent wrapped itself around certain words held her attention briefly before she was able to take a sip of the cocktail he prepared. Strong wasn't the word; overkill may have been more like it.

"Holy fuck," She coughed softly before she felt a sting in her eyes, "That's—please never go into bartending."

A subtle look of offense took over his face as he went to take a sip of his own before he widened his eyes at the flavor of it. "Oh, shit. Yeah, wow. That—that'll do some damage."

Felicity started to laugh at his own reaction before she sat the drink down on the coffee table and watched Harry do the same.

"So, to brief then," She stated, "I believe that it's still true that you're just a stuck-up snob who can't do anything on his own, including making a cocktail."

Harry stood up for a moment but took offense to her comment. He started to remove his jacket, which only intrigued her—it meant he was staying a while longer. "Hey, to my defense, your fridge is very, very sad. There was not much I could have done to make this better. If you're going to drink vodka, at least buy a decent brand."

Felicity tucked the hair behind her ear, "I'm here to make vodka Sprite's, okay? Not martinis," She leaned against the back of the sofa, "And there you go again with being the rich snob."

It was annoying to her that he had decided to roll up his sleeve, just enough on his forearm that she was able to see the tattoos that weren't seen very often. Seldom, really. In the office, she would notice that he would be focusing on something in his office, his sleeve rolled up a bit, but that was the extent of it.

It seemed there were many more up his arm than she had initially thought, but she knew that she would never see them all.

When he went to sit down, he went to move the throw pillow behind his arm, but as he did so, he noticed something black against the white couch cushion.

Immediately, his fingers flew to the item before he lifted the lace that held his attention quite mesmerizingly. Felicity gasped at the realization before she grabbed them from his hands, absolutely mortified didn't even cut it.

"I'm so embarrassed," She finally spoke, almost trying to blame the redness of her cheeks on the strong beverage he gave her. She knew that it was the inflammation of her dignity, not the vodka.

There wasn't a word spoken before she watched that his expression changed surprisingly. He took a long sip of the vodka drink before setting it back down.

But the smile that follows from the cocktail is all she needs to see before she can smile back.

"You continue to surprise me," His words were placed with a package of slurring vocab before he swallows back anything else he'd say out of pocket, "I'm going to be very honest that I didn't imagine you as— I mean, I never imagined you in lace."

"You say that like you imagined me in something else." The words that came from Felicity weren't her own—she didn't know why she said them, but his quick rebuttal shut her up completely.

"Silk, probably," He uses his finger to touch the rim of the rocks glass that he's holding, where the condensation made a drip over the dress pants that situation themselves over his thighs, so lucky. "Or—I mean, you could surprise me even more," He went quick after a moment.

Silence. Protruding silence that is viciously capturing them in this haze of only breath that either of them can hear. It's uninterrupted until Harry leans his head back and the creaking on the sofa fills Felicity's head, rather than the idea of what's to come.

She had felt it before; the warranted tension that Harry seemed to have over her. Maybe it was her fault for leaning into it, but sometimes, she just couldn't help it. The way that he found himself taken by her was just unspoken most of the time. She was surprised that he wouldn't have pulled anything at dinner, but she could fill in the blanks as she invited him up to her apartment.

It was inevitable, she thought.

She shouldn't have done that, but should not's were not what she was thinking about as she drowned herself in the alcoholic state of the sour vodka that wafted of lemon juice and baited words.

Instead, Felicity blinked a few times, watching as he stared at the ceiling. The blankness of the pure white ceiling seemed to keep him grounded before she watched his jaw tighten.

"You're full of surprises, a lot of mystery, you know?" Harry breathed out. The tie around his neck was getting tight, but he couldn't loosen it now—if he was being honest, it was adding to the pleasure of the moment. He wouldn't speak that out, but while the tightness caused a bit of discomfort, he thought of it in other instances. "I'm not sure I can keep up with it."

There was an unresolved tension in the words he spoke, maybe even a bit of slur in them before Felicity followed suit; her head resting practically next to his as she stared at the blank white ceiling that had very little to memorize or stare at.

"What fun is a mystery if it's solved?"

He wasn't sure if she saw—he wasn't sure if she saw the way that his eyes fluttered at the thought of uncovering every instance of mystery that she kept hidden away, in this small apartment. The air was starting to become lost on them, feeling like the oxygen was being pulled as he breathed. The shakiness of his breath was caught by her when she turned her head—she wished that she hadn't.

All she could process was the way that his eyes stared upwards, lips parted in an unsure manner before she watched his eyebrows knit in a deep thought that she couldn't seem to interpret. But this pique of interest held her as she kept her eyes on him—he could feel every deep breath that she tried to mask.

"I don't know if you knew this about me," He quietly stated, "But I really can't handle the unknown."

It was then that his head turned towards her; the distance between them was much shorter than he could have thought. He didn't notice until his eyes directly moved towards the way that her lips curved in the small bow, the one that he had known so well from the number of times that he couldn't keep his eyes from her. But this was different; this held much more tension that he couldn't believe.

This time he could smell the liquor that lingered on her lips that mixed so well with the cherry of the chapstick that he knew she applied generously. He would watch the way that it slid over the lips as he sat at his desk and wondered what was on her mind.

"You're very good at getting what you want," Felicity breathed, watching as he shut his eyes for a moment. It was as if with every word she spoke, he was closer and closer to the edge of something great.

Her eyes traveled to the way that his legs sat just open—they were just waiting for someone to notice. Felicity swallowed at the idea of sitting between them, on her knees. Sitting there with her eyes laying on him; he took notice of her tense shoulders and her harbored through before he sat up just a bit. He scooted himself back on the sofa—Felicity blinked at the way that he invited her with just the flicker of his eyes.

No words needed to be spoken when the look could speak for itself, but the way that he speaks breaks the barrier of silence.

"How good am I at getting what I want?"

The heavy eyes that she held were only staring at his lips and the way that he spoke—the flicker of his tongue over the satin maroon of his lips. She couldn't contain herself, because she knew that his aura was a force to be reckoned with. She had seen it up close and personal; she knew that everything that he did was because he was in it one hundred percent.

He didn't half-ass anything—not a report, not a phone call, not a meeting, not a thought.

Everything Harry did was with the full intensive purpose of being the only thing on someone's mind, body, and soul.

Felicity trembled in the spot next to him, but her legs urged to move themselves. Her brain wasn't moving as fast as her decisions; and in an instant, her knees lowered to the spot in front of him. Her hands settling on the thick of his thigh as she allowed her eyes to hold his. For a moment, hesitation crossed his face, but she could have mistaken it for vulnerability.

The way that he breathed outwards was enough to make her gain the strength of a thousand horses—the talk that he talked wasn't as strong now, she felt a sensibility of pure radiance from her actions.

"I'd say you're the best at it, really." She let her hands settle on his thighs, but she took them away so she could drop the blazer down her arms. The tight white t-shirt settled against her frame as he watched the way that she pushed her brunette locks from her shoulders.

But his being felt incredibly taken by the way that she slowly moved—she wanted to savor every moment of this, he could tell that she was being critical, slow, and putting together each piece of herself in front of him.

That's what he thought at least, until he recognized that there was a tremble in her hand when she went to grab at the belt buckle, he barred. His hand flew to hers when she touched it; almost annoyed at himself by the look of terror that he was faced with as he knew that she had felt pushed away at that.

Instead, he pulled at her to stand up in front of him, between his legs. She did so with ease but a bit of confusion laid on her face as she stood with her hands by her side, Harry's eyes dancing along the figure—the divots in her thighs, the way the skirt just held to her so beautifully.

He let out a whimpering sound before he let his hand fall to the tightness of the front of his pants. Instantly, the pleasure trigger was pulled, and he knew what he had gotten himself into now had to be completed. It had to—he never did anything half-assed.

"Go put your heels on," He instructed her, watching as she stared at him willingly.

"A please would be nice." She tutted back, letting her lip fall into the curve of a smile.

Instantly, she knew that this wasn't a game anymore—this wasn't a fun, hushed little game of pleasure with nobody watching. She knew that the way that his eyes changed at the blink of an eye, the way that his jaw tightened at the statement: and the clear smirk on her lips faded.

"I'm not asking you," He sat up a bit, "I'm telling you."

Felicity had been used to being spoken as such; her memory fading into a moment, but her barriers kept up as she understood that her body was reacting only to the way that the words flowed from his mouth. She knew there was safety in his tone, she could see it by the way that he had stared at her with these stolen glances all night.

Instead, she followed his direction, moving back towards the door until she placed the black heels onto her feet again. They hurt just a bit from wearing them all day, she had to admit. But they made her stand taller, firmer against the fake wood flooring of her apartment. She wondered why the downstairs neighbors would think, as it became later at night.

"Come here," He told her, holding her wrist when she got close enough. He pulled her back to the place in front of him. She stood taller now, his nose practically at her bellybutton as she watched the way that he pulled her close.

Now, his hands lay on the outside of her hips, the sides of her thighs. She shuddered at the feeling, knowing that this was the first time she had been touched by him in such a manner. The musky scent of teakwood and spice drifted from the curls that settled against his forehead, she was sure of it. She could feel the heat of his breath just above where she needed him most as she stood close to him, right between his legs as he sat on the sofa.

"Do you know how many times I've thought of you like this?" He practically choked on his words, quiet, "So fucking beautiful."

She breathed out a shaky breath, holding onto every ounce of madness that she had collected over the past few moments.

"How many?" She asked him. Harry stood up, letting her take a step back as she felt the prominence of him now-- how he was a bit taller, even with her heels on. Every part of her ached—so unfamiliar to her, this feeling of need and want. It was a sensation of desperation that she hadn't known before; her inner monologue was flooded with dangerous prose as she felt his fingers cradled onto her jaw.

"More times than I'd ever be able to count." He told her, his voice deep and sharp as he pushed his hips forward. She walked backward a few steps, he followed in her lead like a waltz before he pushed her pelvis into the wall, holding it there with his own.

"You're going to be my good girl tonight, aren't you, Felicity?" His words were practically a whimper as he let his lips slide along her own; the tremble of her quivering lips made him shake in his own anticipation. "You love to listen, hm? That's why you're always taking my orders and assisting me? Getting paid to do what I say?"

It was always obvious by the pink of her cheeks and the timid ways of her soul that Harry could see right through her. From the moment she arrived on the job to the way that she completed everything task with ease; every job, every plan he needed executed, she followed in righteous order.

It made him proud, to say the least. She ran the company better than he did most days, but she didn't get half the recognition.

Until now, surely.

Her eyes nearly roll back into her head at the foul play of his words; the way that his eyes follow down the path of her lips, his thumb mapping the path down her chin before he grabbed it between his thumb and index finger.

The villainous smirk on his lips can't be seen by how close they are now.

"Does saying 'Yes, Mr. Styles' make you wet, Miss Carter?"

The question rolled off his tongue as he watched her minuscule behaviors; the way that she practically shivered against the wall made his eyes move to the way that her knees bent in just a bit.

His mouth turned up to the side as he realized that his was right yet again.

Felicity groaned in the back of her throat as she let it tip against the wall. He was practically on top of her by the way that he stood, his knee was pushing her knees apart before she was able to protest any of it. Not that she would've; she knew that it was about to turn into an evening that she couldn't have truly imagined if you had asked her just hours before.

"You're getting shy on me, again?" He remarked, but this time, it was paired with some loose kisses along her neck as he used his hand to cradle her jaw enough that she was pressing into it with ease. "What happened to that smart mouth, hm?"

Felicity ached as she breathed—her body pressured against the wall was her own doing, practically to keep herself from overwhelming herself. If she leaned into him too much, she wouldn't be able to breathe at all.

"Yes, Mr. Styles." She bit her lip at the words coming off her tongue.

She could feel that the instant gratification that came from him was filtered through the stare that he barred towards her; the way that his nose brushed against the lobe of her ear as he practically fell into her graces with three simple words.

Harry groaned at the feeling of her pressed against him then; her brain sparked a few times, trying to remember how it felt before this. How reality felt. This wasn't reality in the slightest; this was a dream.

"Tell me," He urges her, "What was his name?"

She lets her eyes wash over his face as she notices that his strength and need have put him into a trance of pleasure and further need.

"Who?" She questions.

"The guy," He lets his lip gently caress right between her chin and lip. "The guy you were supposed to see tonight."

Felicity remembered how the evening was supposed to go—her interest completely lost in that game, when this one seemed a bit more daring and fun. It felt that she was seen here; like she had been stared at for quite some time, ogled, maybe.

"Uh, S-Sam." She choked out as she felt the way that his hand pinched at the small of her waist, almost like he was trying to make sure she didn't leave.

He hummed softly before he tipped her head back, the simple press of his nose moving her head against the wall. "Fucking loser."

Her mouth instantly felt his—a righteous moment of complete satisfaction bundled beneath her. It was the first time that his lips had laid into hers, moving gently against one another as they fit perfectly in sync. It wasn't too rough—just enough to know that she was in the hands of someone who knew what she was asking just by the way that his body moved. He could read her body and react to the fact that her chest may have been pressed against the wall a bit too much, so he pulled back to give her room to breathe.

The way that they flew through her bedroom door was just as shocking to her as it was to him; it made a much larger noise than she anticipated as they practically flew over the threshold and into the creamy white sheets of her—thankfully—made bed.

He landed on top of her in the heat of the moment. Their lips stayed attached through it all, almost like they were making up for all the lost time over the years. His tongue gently caressed over her top lip, which elicited quite a whine of surprise from her.

Her hands flew to his necktie, trying to loosen it before Harry grabbed her wrist—hard enough that she barked out a whimper.

"No," He told her sharply, watching as she hesitated underneath him. Now her hair was feathered out against the bedspread, her light eyes were catching every glimpse of her. After a moment, he looked at her softly, knowing that she didn't understand the game that he was about to play.

"We are going to play by my rules tonight," He told her, watching as she pushed herself up towards the headboard. He followed her lead, letting her hands rest on the back of his head as she tried to kiss every inch down her neck. "And I have a few notes you need to take, got it?"

Felicity tried her best to stabilize her breath as she was given a moment away from their lips touching to catch it. She licked over her lips, feeling her heart pounding along her chest before she nodded against the bed and the linen comforter that laid underneath them.

Harry sat up, his hair a bit of a mess, the clothes on his body were practically ripped from the front where they had been neatly tucked. The growing need for her was obvious as he felt the tip of his cock struggling beneath the waistband of his belt. The friction made it quite hard to concentrate on what his plans had been, but he knew that he had to be firm with his requests.

"First," He instructed, "The safe word is poetry."

Felicity's eyes stared at him with quiet focus as she nodded a few times to try and understand that. She hadn't ever been with someone who needed to use a safe word in any sexual act, so she struggled to wrap her brain around what that could have possibly meant. But her actions continued to nod as she wrapped her arms around his biceps to try to bring him back to earth. The idea that he had to bring it up intrigued her.

"Second," He pulled at the necktie around his own before he loosened it enough to grab and throw off of his own neck. His hands moved to place it around her own, helping to move the hair from her neck so that it could rest comfortably around her own. "I like to use props. Are you okay with that?"

Felicity felt her heart beating steadily in her chest for a few seconds before she nodded her head. He watched the innocence completely take over her face as he smirked at the all-knowing tale of it.

"Third," He bit on his lip as he moved down to let their foreheads rest along each other, "I need to hear you—no nodding or shaking your head. Consent makes me feel good. And when I feel good," He kissed her once again, a quick one this time, before his voice quieted so that it was just between them. "You'll feel even better. Okay?"

Felicity breathed in a deep breath before she tried to use the voice that had been drifting away from her. She didn't feel in her body like an echo of a voice had started to take over instead of her words. But she let out a rasp of a word, "Okay."

Harry nodded a few times, knowing that with her eyes, he would be able to continue, but only if he was able to talk her through every part of it. He didn't know her experience level or what she was comfortable with, but he knew how to make pleasure the only thing that would be on her mind for weeks. Hopefully, it wouldn't be the last time he got the opportunity.

"This is—uh," She looked at the ceiling, feeling like an idiot for starting to speak before she shook her head, and watched Harry give her a look of confusion. "No, sorry. Nevermind."

"What is it?" He questioned, hoping that something he had said hadn't scared her away. She took in a breath as she thought about how the wording could anger him—maybe it would stop whatever was happening, which she didn't want to happen now that they were in the midst of it all.

"I—uh, I mean, like, are you okay with this?" She asked quietly before pushing up on her elbows. "I—do I have like, sign something?"

Harry raised in brows in a bit of a humorous way that only made her cheeks grow red with shame at her silly question—in all honesty, it wasn't silly, but Harry was giving her a hard time about it, anyway. He bit on his lip as he felt the smile that was threatening to overcome his entire face.

"Am I supposed to be worried that you're going to tell the Daily Mail that I have a huge cock?"

"Harry!" She covered her eyes, floating back onto the comforter, "Nevermind—maybe I'll tell them it's small, though, if you don't stop being mean. I'm just trying to protect you."

"Aw," He tutted, putting his thumb over her bottom lip, but his eyes had grown a bit darker—the way that they had been a bit earlier. It was almost an illicit reaction; the way that he spoke to her, was so filthy with each word spoken that made her melt into the bed. "Dare you to say that to my face when you're choking on it," He pressed his hips into hers then, knowing that she would react to it. Hers moved upwards into him, just as he had intended, "I'm not worried about an NDA in the slightest bit."

In a teasing manner, she scrunched her nose and playfully spat back, "What if I tried to steal all of your money?"

He pressed his hands next to her head on the bed, letting her eyes look directly into his as he spoke, hoping his voice didn't falter: "You can have it all. Take it."

Something about it should have made Felicity giggle—almost like they were joking around. But there was a way that his sincerity felt more like a proposition than a source to cut the tension of their achingly needing bodies against one another.

Her body seemed to enjoy the way that he stated the smooth words, as she let her hands fall into the brunette curls that settled on the back of his neck. It didn't take long for her to pull him closer, letting her lips graze over him in such a frustrating manner. She was completely built up, her could feel the way that her thighs trembled against him.

Pushing her legs open, Harry pushed the hem of her skirt up her hips so that he could find a home between them. In doing so, flashing the baby pink of her lace panties only let his blood flow faster and faster.

"I bet you've soaked those, hm?" He tuts, pressing his nose into her cheek ask he lets his hand knowingly move to the place he speaks of, knowing that he's right. Again. "Sam doesn't know what he's missing, does he?"

The teasing was becoming a bit too much for her—waiting for his fingers to move faster, she moved her hips a bit to try and get herself the pleasure she was trying to search so desperately for from him.

Harry notices the way that she tries to squirm, and he smirks at the reaction he's giving her; knowing that within every inch of her is building up a tension that will release. It will be like a dam that overflows—a satisfaction that will be so worthy of the cost of admission. He can't help but notice, can't help but watch her need.

He can't help but know that he's going to fuck her into an oblivion so dark, the stars will be lost in space. She doesn't know that yet.

Instead of being mean, he decides it might be better for him to give her what she needs—what she's been so kindly asking him for with her pretty hips and her pretty lips.

"On your knees," He tells her, watching as she moves underneath him. She wiggles around until she's on her stomach; the necktie gets him harder as he watches it dangle from her neck like the apple in Eden. Every part of him wants to take the bite—not yet, oh, not yet.

When she does this, her back arches upwards, and Harry's knees settle on the bed as he hovers above her and watches the way that she submits to him. Every word he says she listens—he can barely handle it anymore.

In an instant, his hands reached the bottom of her skirt, pushing it up to fully show the outline of her ass in the cheeky pink lace. It's always been known to him that she would wear something so pitifully scandalous under those black skirts, but he couldn't have imagined it would be like this.

Her pretty face has been folded into the creamy duvet, waiting for the touch of him to send her into an implosion.

All he wanted was to taste her—to make all of the thoughts he had prior feel like they were significant and they were able to be adhered to. He wanted to make her feel like she was the most special person on the planet; like she could feel every inch of him, and she would be thriving in that thought for the end of time.

This may be a one-time occurrence, and he wanted to marvel in it. He wanted her to enjoy what she didn't know could be.

Harry's hands pulled at the pink lace, wondering how lucky he was to be able to enjoy this sight—and what a sight. The wetness of her folds only made him salivate; made his hungry eye a darker shade of green before he dove his tongue directly into her, licking up the mess he had already made of her.

The soft whimpers turned into moans as she practically lurched forward—the initiation hardly bearable as she scrunched her eyes at the feeling of pleasure. The warmth and invite of his tongue pressed against her, lapping her up and into a pitiful puddle. When she felt the nudge of his finger, she gasped at the feeling of him; the duo of his tongue and finger sang together in harmony like a choir of angels.

"Oh, fuck," She quietly moaned out, holding herself on her elbows as she grabbed at her pillow for a bit of leverage. She felt him hum into her, his nose gently brushing against her as he pushed her ass up to get further towards her clit which hungered for his touch, as did his tongue.

The taste of her replenished him, making his heartbeat faster as he felt the stringent feeling of tightness along the dress pants that held him in. Without letting his tongue go without, he used his hand to swiftly throw the belt from the loops of his pants, unbuttoning them quickly and without another thought.

"Fuck, you taste like I thought you would. So fucking sweet." He stated, pushing her ass out of the way when he pulled back. He threw her down onto the bed so that she would be looking up at him. The girl was fully dressed still, just with her skirt pushed up—underwear a bit haphazardly thrown to the side. The rose-colored cheeks threw him as he used his hands to pull the skirt down her thighs.

"Get naked." He ordered, watching as Felicity's hands moved to throw the t-shirt from her body as he requested, leaving her in her panties and bra. Harry threw the white button-down of his from his chest; Felicity got a bit distracted by the way that the tattoos generously scattered over his body. She swallowed back her intimidation as she held herself up on her elbows.

In a swift motion, her panties and bra were thrown onto the ground, leaving her in just the necktie like Harry had ordered for her. She hadn't even quite noticed that he had been rid of his own clothes, her eyes wandering down but not wanting to stare as she noticed that the smirk on his face was ever present.

"Think it's still small?" He asked, with a chuckle as he pulled at her knees, moving her down towards him.

"Maybe smaller than I'm used to." She played back, biting her lip at the intrigue of how he'd react. His arms grabbed at her waist before he threw himself down onto the bed.

"Ride me, then. If you think you can take it as good as you say." His words spit out before Felicity could think too much. It had been a while she had been in this situation, with a guy in her place, at least. Her hand reached over to the nightstand to grab a condom, Harry nodding in appreciation for the gesture.

Her hunger and desire for this became a bit more active as she was now in the driver's seat, moving and manipulating her body to sit across his lap. If she would lie, she would say that it was smaller than average. But unfortunately, she was taught to always tell the truth.

It was much bigger—especially as he rubbed his hand down himself, a gasp of air baiting out of his lips before he looked up at her in a state that could only resemble pleasure.

Harry rolled the condom down his length, watching as she settled into his lap. Her legs settle on either side of him before he looks up at her. The blazing fuzziness of his mind from the liquor has started to cease and is replaced with a hunger of desire for the brunette instead.

"Pretty, pretty." He tells her, watching as she looks antsy enough to move, but he pulls her down to kiss her, anyways. It's a moment that he knows he's taking away from her, but he needs some form of interaction from her. A small detail of need that overcomes him.

His hands steady her hips above him, holding his cock up to her entrance before he watches her hips move down to encapsulate him all—her movements are slow as she throws her head back in an unsurmountable pleasure that she quite practically leans forward against him to catch herself from falling.

"Fuck," He grunts, shutting his eyes just at the way that the blood moves directly to his cock at the feeling of her wetness. She's completely drenched and open and ready which makes her so sensitive and barely capable of words at this point.

Her hands steady herself, holding onto his chest as he allows her to take the lead on what she needs. But he can tell from the look on her face that she's having quite a hard time collecting herself—almost like she's quite unsure of what to do with the power that he's given her to be on top. It's not him pitying her, but him wanting her to enjoy the experience.

So, maybe, in another life, this can happen again.

"Baby," He choked out, shaking his head at the way that he knew it was the wrong choice of words, "Felicity—let me," He grabbed the small of her waist as he sat up quickly. His arms pivoted them so that he could throw them back around on the bed. It wasn't to take anything away from her, but to give to her more than she was giving to herself.

"Let me do this, yeah?" He joked with her, letting his lips kiss along hers, biting and nipping and finding small ways of showing her that the softness of him was still there even in the darkened eyes and furious gasps.

His body readjusted, his hips pushing into her in a more fluid motion. This got her to gasp, a breathy one that he liked hearing—those were the ones that were out of pure pleasure and satisfaction; ones that he felt drunk on.

In a way, this felt a lot different than before. The overhead light of her bedroom was soft; there was a significant dimness to it. He wasn't sure if it was because the room was small, but it felt like there was a intimacy that he had been missing before. His eyes tilted upwards to the paintings and lines of movie quotes that lined along her bedroom wall. There were framed simply and held color and brightness to the space, which distracted him for only a moment before he was able to lay against her.

The necktie around her took his focus back.

"I'm going to play with you a bit, is that alright?" He asked her softly, biting at his lip before he found himself pressing into her hips. His hands grabbed at the necktie before letting them start to tighten it around her neck. " 'Member you words, hm?"

Felicity whimpered out at the coax; nodding her head, "Please—please."

Harry sat up at the request, happy that she was using her words in this sense. He readied himself; thinking of what he needed to think about to try to get himself to a different place. He didn't want to cum too quickly; his cock was barely holding on as it was. The friction of her sweet wetness was enough to make him fold again and again and again.

His fist moved to grip at the knot of the tie, pushing it upwards until it hit at her chin. She raised her head, almost to give way to the pressure that it held against her. She was only briefly capable of speaking a few words, but she was taken with pleasure at the way that her breathing was manipulated.

"Breath play," Harry practically reads her mind as his hip's diver deeper into her. The feeling of her legs at his ribs, practically around his body as he feels the back of her ankle into his back. "Your words, baby."

Felicity took a deep breath; Harry moved his hand so that she could take it in more. He wanted her to feel the wooziness, the daydream-like feeling of the high that it could bring her. He wanted this moment to be special, for her to remember that she was in the most requitting love affair. That she was taken care of, adored, seen.

At the end of the day, Harry wanted to make sure that her jaw was cradled, her lips were kissed, her eyes were stared into, and her breath was taken away.

His hips snapped further, her moan sounded like a small mew before he sat up a bit straighter, loosening his hand on the tie before he grabbed at both of her hips. His hand moved to maneuver over her clit, thumb drawing a star over top of it to which she squirmed in sensitivity. He smirked at the way that she held softly against him before he let a dribble of spit land directly on her, smearing the wetness to coat her.

"Jesus fucking Christ." He stated, the blown-out pupils of them both had them reeling—he noticed he had really neglected parts of her that he had wanted to remember, but he also knew that there was a significant need that they were both needing to fill. He knew that this was just inevitable fucking from weeks—months, really—of built-up tension that they both needed to get out of their system.

"I—I want more," She nodded, her voice quiet and barely above a mumble before their eyes made contact.

He felt that she was a bit, for lack of a better word, fucked. Her eyes were a bit droopy, she may have been trying to cover up how much she really drank, but her effervescent neediness was going to haunt him forever.

"I can give you more," He nodded, "I can give you so much fucking more." His hips snapped forward, again and again and again—her headboard hitting the wall every time he did so. Their breath heavy and their eyes connected as he did so.

"Such a pretty little fuck," He lifted her leg up from around his waist before he gave her knee a gentle kiss. "I'm so hard, fuck."

The fully natured nudity of their bodies was new for him—it was usually very quick, especially when they would come to his. But this was significantly more intimate; he wanted to spend this time with her. He liked that they decided to do it this way.

She could feel the tightening of the rubber band that was about to snap. It had been building with every swipe of his thumb, the way that his tongue had gently nudged at her clit; the way he had plunged forward with every deep thrust. She was impressed with the way that he moved her body to be able to hit at her spot every single time. He had studied her, watched what she did—how she reacted.

"I'm—fuck," He pulled himself forward, letting his head drop as he fell into her touch. This was new; her hands on his shoulders, the way that they moved into his hair and down his neck. "Poetry, okay?" He reminded her softly before he kissed her lips.

What happened after that could have been a blur—to Felicity, she wasn't entirely sure if she could remember it all. His hand gripped around the tie of her neck, pulling softly so she felt a dizzy sensation.

"Fuck—fuck, Harry, I'm cumming—fuck." Her teeth bit so sharply on her lip that she was afraid it might rupture the skin; the taste of blood would come soon afterwards, but her reality was set in the pleasure kingdom that Harry's hips created for her.

It was dizzying how he snapped his hips upwards, hitting her every single time. The pressure of his thumb over her clit sent her into an overdrive; letting her walls completely break, the dam overflowed, flooding. The orgasm over taking her sent him into a state of pure shock and adrenaline, snapping his hips a few more times before he felt the absolute relief.

Her eyes shut; Harry lurched forward as he fell into the grip of her hands. It was a feeling of falling that he genuinely believed were cloud-like.

For a moment, he wondered if they would ever slow their breathing down. He wondered if the sound of her heart beating against his was real-life or just a fantasy. It may have been an orgasmic-induced dream.

The puzzle piece form of the two of them let him settle nicely into her; his nose poked at the skin of her neck, which he may or may not have left a mark or two on.

In the solemness of the air, his breathing finally evened out.

___________

"Are we cleared for take-off, Mr. Styles?"

The noise jolts him a bit, he wouldn't lie.

Harry clears his throat as he opens his eyes which have been hidden by the sunglasses that have settled on his face. He readjusts in the seat before he looks around the small jet plane that had been chartered for their adventure.

It was early, approaching on seven in the morning. His sleep had been nonexistent until that small nap that he had gotten himself before being woken up by the pilot.

"Uh," He swallows, trying to make it seem that he was more awake than he was.

"I believe that we're all here." Laura states to the pilot before she gives him a tight smile. She returns to looking at her cellphone, lowering her hands into her lap as she continues to scroll through what's possibly an email.

Harry looks around the small jet, watching, searching... wondering.

He blinks a few times to try to imagine if there's a reality where what had occurred last night was working against him—he had hoped that she hadn't been scared off, that she hadn't run away at the idea of what this weekend could possibly hold.

Not that it was going to happen all the time, certainly not. But he wondered if there could be a next time—he wondered if she would have liked that. It turns out, with the no show to the work trip that she had been informed on that—

"I'm sorry."

The sweet tone of the voice carries through the plane before he turns his body in the single chair to look at where it had been coming from. Coming up the steps, being greeted by the stewardess, a smiling face that had her sunglasses pushed into her hair—a pair of black yoga pants and a t-shirt with a cardigan sweater overtop.

He watches as she takes her bag, feeling uncomfortable by the stewardess taking it from her before she gives her a tight smile and settles into walking towards the back. The plane isn't large, but it feels incredible big when he is waiting for her to approach him.

Their eyes meet and she gives him a tight smile before greeting the others on the plane. The seat directly in front of Harry isn't taken. Go figure. Her hands are full—holding her purse, a bag that most likely has something to eat for a breakfast, a coffee, and—

"Your dry-cleaning," Felicity handed the back to him before she took her seat that sat directly across from him in the small private jet that had seemingly felt much smaller as she took in how close he was to her now, "Mr. Styles."

The flicker of her eyes to his—the way that her hair had been blown dry, bouncing with curls, the freshness of her toned-down makeup to allow the texture of her skin to show with the subtlety of the glow.

Even in the early morning hours, even though he had just left her a few hours prior, even though they had both had less than a few good hours of sleep—she still looked like she was greeting him at heaven's pearly gates.

When the bag was unzipped to check that everything had been added, his eyes fell along the purple necktie that he had unnervingly left at the edge of her bed the night prior; he must had run out of the door of her apartment without it. His eyes glanced at the way that the small item drifted over the white button-down.

It was familiar, of course, because it had been the one that he was wearing yesterday when he had entered her apartment but left without it in his hands or around his neck. He cleared his throat at the sight, knowing that it was a nod to him and only him. When he sat them down across his lap, his eyes landed on her again—the casualty of her smirk was harrowing now.

"Mr. Styles, are we waiting on anyone else?" The pilot had come back towards the rows now, to ensure that everything would have been cleared for the take-off. Harry looked back at him, and shook his head without another doubt, but a solidly aching feeling in his chest as he barred the words back at him.

"No, I—I'm not waiting for anyone else, at least." He looked up at the girl in front of him, "I'm good."

The pilot got the plane ready for departure; Felicity stared at the window as she tried to take in the experience, knowing that the exhaustion that was starting to overcome her would be able to be given a final rest when she leaned against the window.

But, for the time being, she liked being able to rest in the light of Harry's stare as he couldn't take his eyes from her.

The plane, the job, the clothes, the dinner—none of it mattered when the view in front of him was something that money would never be able to buy.

____________________

hiiiii!!

happy tortured poets department day, here's a one-shot <3

just a little fun one hehe, almost 20k words is so much for me, so thank you for reading this!

love u as always

- emily

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