#hs fic recs

[harryslittlefreakk]

favourite crime 3

summary: harry disappears and leaves y/n in the dark. when he finally resurfaces, they struggle to heal hurt and broken hearts.

warnings: angst, brief mentions of cheating, fluff, age gap relationship, teacher/student relationship

wordcount: 5.2k

a/n: strap in its angsty!!!!! but we’re almost at the end of the back and forth now, i want my babies to be happy 😭

thank you so much for reading & supporting 🤍 masterlist | favourite crime masterlist

“You really haven’t seen him?”

You nibbled on your lower lip as you waited for Courtney to reply, rubbing two fingers over your temple.

“No, and Josh still hasn’t heard from him either. Last I knew, he was coming to find you,” Courtney murmured, smoothing a hand over your hair.

“There’s rumours everywhere,” you told her. “He quit, he got fired. You don’t think someone found out and he had to leave?”

Courtney shook her head, leaning back in her seat. “He would’ve told you. Even if it was the last time you ever spoke, I think he would’ve told you.”

You pulled your knees to your chest, staring up at the ceiling. It had been over a week since you’d seen or heard from Harry. You’d checked with Courtney every day, hoping by some miracle that he’d gone home or spoken to Josh, but he hadn’t. He’d pushed you away in his office and then fallen off the face of the Earth.

You’d typed out and deleted texts almost every hour, rushing to check your messages and missed calls as soon as you woke up every morning. Your finger had hovered over Harry’s phone number, never hitting call.

You made sure to walk by his office everyday, hoping for some sign of life, but nothing ever came. Your mind was running wild. You couldn’t help but imagine him lying in a ditch somewhere, hurt and alone. Or on the run, dramatically changing his appearance to escape law enforcement after his relationship with you had been revealed. Or worse, he simply felt he had to disappear to save himself from you.

It wasn’t until you saw a flash of brunette curls disappearing into his door that your worry turned into white-hot rage.

Your heart rate quickened with your feet, your shaking hand fumbling with the doorknob as you barged in behind him.

The blood was pounding in your ears, every muscle in your body tense as he turned around and looked at you.

“What the fuck, Harry?”

Your voice was a whisper with all the anger of a shout, the words catching in your dry throat. Your hands balled into fists inside your sleeves as Harry looked over you, barely a speck of emotion on his face.

He was no different to the last time you saw him, his outfit one you’d seen before, each line and crease on his face no different than before. But the way he was looking at you was new. He was indifferent, arms resting at his sides as he waited for words that you couldn’t form. His eyes held nothing. You felt like a stranger to him, and you willed your feet to carry you away, back to the comfort of not knowing where he was but knowing who you were to him.

But as you turned away, he finally spoke. “How long does it take you to get home?”

“Thirty minutes,” you answered, tears resting on your eyelashes as you stared at your feet.

“Then I’ll see you in thirty minutes,” Harry replied, watching you leave his office as quickly as you burst in.

—

Harry sat in his car outside your house, his hands gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. His eyes were locked on the mirror, watching the corner of your street with a clenched jaw.

His anger simmered just beneath the surface, a volatile mix of frustration and betrayal. The minutes felt like hours as he replayed the last time he was here, stoking the fire of his anger. He was determined to hear the truth, even if it meant he would never see you again.

The second you turned the corner, his heart near stopped. You didn’t seem to notice him or his car as you approached, your eyes weary and heavy-lidded as you stared straight ahead.

Harry hadn’t paid much attention to you in his office, trying to ignore the pained furrow of your brows, the red tint of sleepless nights beneath your eyelashes, the way you looked almost exactly the same and yet so different to him. But as he looked at you then, dulled and burnt out even as the afternoon sun illuminated everything around you, his anger fell away and shame rolled through his body in a nauseating wave.

He was a grown man. With a job, a home, a life that shouldn’t involve someone in their early twenties, someone who’s education he was responsible for. You may have approached him first, but he barely thought twice before pursuing you, fisting his cock that night with only thoughts of you in his mind.

And worse than that, he’d run away. He’d backed you into a corner, fucking you, making you his, while making it clear to you that you’d never be more than a fun weekend. He’d kissed you, set up boundaries so weak that you had no choice but to push through them, making you believe that you were setting the pace and dictating what relationship you would or wouldn’t have. Then he’d backed off.

He deserved every inch of the hell he’d found himself in. Harry ran a hand through his hair, suddenly wanting to be anywhere else. He still wanted answers, but he found himself totally unfazed towards whatever the truth was. You had every right to want him to hurt.

At the sound of keys jangling in a door, he turned his head, watching you let yourself in. With a deep sigh, he followed, his legs wooden as he trudged towards the door you’d left ajar.

“Hi,” Harry murmured, slipping into your apartment behind you. He hadn’t seen it before, and it was absolutely no different than he’d expected. You had fresh flowers and house plants on almost every surface, lilies and roses in soft pinks and whites, posters and pictures dotted around the walls.

You turned to face him, dropping your bag on the kitchen counter. “Where have you been?” you asked him, your voice sharper than you intended.

You heard his breath hitch in the silence, the sound of his shoes banging as he pushed them off, his socks soft against the floor as he edged towards you. The air between you was thick, charged with everything unsaid, everything he’d been avoiding.

“I saw him,” Harry said quietly, an edge to his voice, a tightness that betrayed his restraint. “I came here.”

He’d paused a few paces away, his expression unreadable in the sunlight seeping through the window. But you could read the tension in the way his jaw was clenched, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides.

“Saw who?” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to keep the hurt at bay. “You kissed me, Harry. And then you disappeared. You didn’t say a word, didn’t even let anyone know if you were okay.”

He exhaled harshly, running a hand through curls that looked like they’d been toyed with all day long. “I didn’t know what to say! What do you want me to say? I came here to apologise, but you were clearly already busy.”

“You came here after I left your office?” you questioned, your voice rising. “I was tutoring, Harry. I told you I was fucking tutoring.”

He leaned the wall, steadying himself as you knocked the wind out of him. In the entire week he’d been gone, racking his brains every day for some kind of innocent explanation, he hadn’t even remembered that.

He knew he was jealous, overly possessive, even over people he couldn’t claim, but this was a new low.

“I was tutoring Tommy, who’s in your fucking class and has a girlfriend. I needed to get my notes from my room. Which is where I’m assuming you saw us?” you paused for him to confirm, feeling rage wash over you like a tidal wave.

“He followed me into my room, and then we studied, Harry. At the dining table. On opposite sides.”

You ran a hand over your face, eyes screwed shut as you tried to make sense of it all.

“You don’t know how it looked,” Harry whispered, the colour drained from his face, his jaw clenched.

“You disappeared for a week. No communication, no word to even Josh. I was going out of my mind, Harry! There were rumours everywhere. You were hurt, you got fired, you got caught with a student - how do you think that felt? How that looked?”

His silence said more than his words ever could, and it made your blood boil. You took a step toward him, closing the distance between you, your heart pounding against your ribs.

“Why do you keep doing this?” you asked, your voice starting to tremble. “You took me to the lake, you suggested the weekend away. You thought sleeping with me and then dropping me was the best plan. You kissed me, you pushed me away. And now you seriously think that I’d do this?”

When he still kept quiet, eyes flitting across your face, your anger reached boiling point. You were being mean, you knew that. You’d had just as much of a hand in anything that happened, but blaming Harry felt easier.

“Do you think I wanted any of this? You pull me close, like you want me, like you feel something, and then the second it gets too much, you push me away. Do you even know what that does to me?”

That struck a nerve. You could see it in the way his face twisted, his body recoiling slightly as if your words struck him deeper than you intended. He looked at you, and for a moment, there was something raw in his gaze.

Harry stepped closer, his body tense as if he was barely holding himself upright. He pushed his head back, inhaling a deep, deep breath before looking back at you. “You didn’t want any of that?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s not what I meant, Harry, and you know that. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more than I want this. But I wanted more,” you explained, turning your back on him as you tried to keep a hold of yourself.

“It wasn’t meant to be like this,” Harry confessed, pinching the top of his nose. “I don’t know how it all got so complicated.”

“You pulled the strings, Harry. You made it this way,” you replied, letting your chin fall to your chest. Nothing made sense to you. It had been two weeks with Harry, and you’d barely even spent any time with him during those weeks. Yet you were practically falling apart, sagging under the weight of the heartbreak.

You turned back to face Harry, needing him to see the hurt he’d caused written over your face.

His eyes dropped to the floor, and for a moment, he looked as though he would say something - finally actually admit what he’d been feeling. But instead, he just shook his head, his voice barely a whisper when he spoke.

“I didn’t want it to be this way.”

You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to believe that this had all just been some misunderstanding, that he wasn’t as scared of his own feelings as you thought. But you were exhausted. Tired of the back and forth, of the emotional whiplash that had been defining whatever it was the two of you had.

“So what now?” you asked, your voice quiet but steady. “What do we do now, Harry?”

He looked up at you then, and the way he was staring, it almost felt like a plea. Like he was hoping you’d have the answer, that you’d know how to fix the mess you’d both found yourself in.

But you didn’t. And if your heart hadn’t already shattered, it would have broken at the realisation that neither did he.

The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken things. You stared at each other, neither of you knowing what to say, both of you too scared to admit how badly you needed each other.

It felt like you were standing on opposite sides of a chasm, each too wounded and too stubborn to reach across.

“I just want there to be a reality in which we can be happy.”

You turned back to face him, willing your heart not to shatter as Harry’s whisper cut through you. It was a thought you’d rejected countless times since seeing Harry in the bar that night. Happiness in a relationship, especially at the start, shouldn’t have been so hard to find and hold on to. But for some reason, there had been trouble at every turn.

You could feel the sting of tears in your eyes, the image of Harry in front of you blurring. Your hands trembled as you reached up to wipe your eye, the dam finally breaking.

Tears streamed down your face, unbidden and unstoppable. You had fought so hard to keep it together, convincing yourself that things would get better, that they could still fix what was clearly broken. But standing there in the silence in the wake of Harry’s words, you felt completely destroyed.

Harry looked away, his gaze falling to the floor as if he couldn’t bear to meet your eyes anymore. His shoulders slumped, and for a moment, he looked as if the fight had drained all the energy out of him. “I don’t want to fight with you, y/n,” he said quietly, his voice filled with exhaustion. “I hate this.”

You let his words hang in the air, unsure of anything you can say or do to make the situation better. “I need to change,” you told him eventually, padding past him towards your bedroom.

Harry watched you leave, your arms hanging limply by your sides, your steps light despite the darkness weighing on you.

He followed after a minute, holding up his fist to knock on the door, before it falls to his side. He picked it up again, reaching out for the doorknob with tentative fingers, before completely abandoning any attempt to get you to let him in. His heart broke with how badly he wanted to be there, to ease you out of the day’s clothes and help you into new ones, to wipe your tears with the soft knit of his jumper and to make it all better. But he didn’t know how to be in your space, how to comfort you when he was the very source of your tears.

When you eventually opened the door, you tried to walk straight past him, but he reached out to gently catch your arm. For a brief moment, your eyes met, and in that instant, he couldn’t hold back anymore. Without a word, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close as your body trembled. He cradled you, his hand smoothing over your hair, the other placed firmly your back, and you stood there, enveloped in him, his scent and his touch filling the space around you, until your breathing slowed.

Once you were steady, no longer wrapped tightly around him as though he was the only thing keeping you up straight, he lead you to the sofa, his hand never leaving your lower back. You lay your head in his lap, staring straight out of the window at the setting sun.

Harry softly ran his fingers through your hair, his fingertips scratching at the roots in just the way he knew you loved. A soft smile tugged at his mouth, remembering how you’d fallen asleep in seconds after his hands found your hair. His eyes never left your face, trained on every detail as though he was worried this was the last time he’d ever see them. He watched the way your eyelashes fluttered as you blinked, noticing the faint furrow of your brows starting to smooth out after a while. The pink tint at the tip of your nose, the soft freckles dotted over your cheeks, the shine on your lower lip. You were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

After some time, you shifted onto your back, turning to face him. Reaching up with a gentle hand, you l pushed a stray curl from his forehead. "I’m so sorry, Harry. I never thought things would get like this,” you whispered, a single stray tear slipping down your cheek, coming to rest on the fabric of his slacks in a tiny damp spot.

"You don’t have anything to apologise for," he replied, his voice tender, laced with emotion.

He hesitated for a moment before asking, "Are you hungry? Do you want to shower?"

You nodded at that, feeling the weight of the past week clinging to you, suddenly desperate to wash it all away.

You sat up, your head pounding after so many tears and such twisting emotions, and dragged yourself to the bathroom.

You sat on the edge of the bath, staring at yourself in the mirror. You looked exhausted, both emotionally and physically drained in the wake of a week that had nearly broken you.

Harry followed you after a few minutes, watching from the doorway as you gathered your strength. He couldn’t bear the thought of a life without you, without the colours you’d brought into his world. He kneeled in front of you, gently taking your hand in his. His touch was soft, tentative, as if he was afraid he might break you further.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispered, his voice soft. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, his gaze pleading for forgiveness, for the chance to make things right.

You nodded, too tired to protest, and that was all Harry needed. He tugged on your hands to make you stand, his hands soft and steady as he undressed you. There was a tenderness in the way he moved, a quiet determination to show you that he was still there, and that he wasn’t going to let go. Not then, not ever.

He turned on the water, making sure it was the right temperature, then adjusting the radiator so it would warm your towel as you showered. As he was about to walk away, you pulled on his arm, directing his attention back to you.

“Stay with me,” you whispered, thumbing the hem of his jumper, waiting for permission to strip him of his clothes. When he didn’t protest, you undressed him in the same way he’d done for you, then finally stepped under the water.

His fingers gently brushed your hair back, away from your face, and you closed your eyes, letting the warmth of the water and Harry’s presence soothe you. He reached behind you, running your soap between his hands before gently massaging them over your skin.

His touch was featherlight, as if he was trying to wash away not just the exhaustion, but the hurt that had built up between you. He was careful, attentive, his actions filled with unspoken words of love and regret. As he moved, his lips brushed against your shoulder, a silent apology, a promise that he would do better. The intimacy of it made you weak, your body turning to jelly as he cared for you in a way you knew no other man was capable of.

“I don’t want you to ever think I was using you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the sound of the running water. “You’re so much more than what you can give me.”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, as he stepped a little closer to you. The warm water cascaded over both of you, its steady rhythm filling the quiet space between you and Harry. His eyes searching yours as the droplets slid down his face, his breath slightly ragged.

Your hand lifted slowly, fingers coming up to caress his cheek as you stared at each other through the steam, your fingertips lingering as if you were scared to let go.

“You’re so beautiful. I don’t think I’ve told you that enough,” Harry murmured, running his thumb over your bottom lip.

You swallowed hard, your throat closing around any words you could come up with. “Harry,” you whispered eventually, your voice raw from all the emotions of the day. “At times like this, I can really picture a life with you,” you finished, shy as the words finally came out.

You weren’t even sure what the fate of your relationship was, whether you even had another shot at happiness with him. But you knew, as much as it pained you to realise it, that things had only gotten so fucked up because both you and Harry had felt so much more intensely for one another than you’d ever expected. It wasn’t just sex, or a weird fling. There was something real between the two of you, you were certain of that.

His fingers traced along your jawline, his eyes glistening as he took in what you’d said. And then, without hesitation, Harry leaned in, closing the space between you, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was soft, yet full of urgency. It wasn’t at all like the other times, it was deeper, filled with apology, with longing, with the need to prove that neither of you were willing to let go.

The water poured over your entwined bodies, but all you could feel was him. His kiss was tender at first, but as the seconds passed, it grew more passionate, more desperate, as if he was trying to pour everything he felt into that one moment. His hands moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks as his lips moved against yours, seeking not just forgiveness, but something solid to hold onto as you both tried to find your way back.

Your hands slid up his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. You kissed him back, matching his intensity, your fingers curling into his damp skin as if afraid that if you let go, you’d lose him all over again. The warmth of the water mixed with the heat of his body against yours, and finally anything outside of that moment faded away.

When you finally pulled back, gasping for air, your foreheads pressed together, Harry’s chest was heaving, his eyes still closed as if he was trying to hold onto the feeling of your lips on his. His hands didn’t leave your face, and you could feel the slight tremble in them as he pulled you into his chest, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

“You’re everything. Everything,” Harry muttered, his voice muffled by your hair, one arm wrapping around your back, holding you tight to him.

He shut the water off after a while, letting you melt into him for as long as you needed to. The air in the bathroom was thick, warm steam curling in the corners of the room.

“Come here,” Harry murmured, holding your towel out for you, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

You hesitated for a moment, but then you moved closer, letting him gently wrap the towel around your body. His touch was careful, tender as he pulled the fabric tight around you, tucking it securely. His fingers lingered for a second longer, grazing your bare skin as they brushed over your arms. His eyes met yours, filled with that familiar warmth, but there was something else, something quieter. Maybe regret, maybe something unsaid.

“Go on, princess,” he whispered, his voice soothing, like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be taking care of you. “I’ll bring you a cuppa.”

You nodded, offering an exhausted but grateful smile before heading toward the bedroom. The weight of the day had left your body heavy, but Harry’s presence, his care, made everything seem softer, lighter somehow.

Harry stood in front of the kettle, his hands gripping the edge of the counter as he waited for the water to boil. The kitchen was quiet, except for the low hum of the kettle, but his mind was anything but.

He tried to focus on the task at hand - two cups of tea, something simple. Something he could control. But his thoughts kept drifting back, slipping through the cracks he was trying to seal up. The mistakes he'd made, the moments when he’d let you down, they all crowded his mind, a slow, sinking weight in his chest.

He thought about the hurt, the missed chances to say the right thing, the times he’d let his guard down only to retreat again out of fear. He’d always been good at getting in his own way, letting his own doubts cloud the way forward. It was no different now that he had been risking his career for you. He’d wanted so badly to protect you, to keep you close without smothering you, but somewhere along the way, he’d gotten lost in his own head. And now, standing in the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil, those moments felt like stones in his chest.

You deserved better. He knew that. And he wasn’t always sure he could be that person for you. You needed someone who didn’t hurt you, who didn’t let their own insecurities and mistakes get in the way.

He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to push the thoughts down, but they kept rising, unbidden. What if he wasn’t enough? What if he made another mistake, and it was one you couldn’t forgive?

The kettle clicked off, its billowing steam piercing through his thoughts, grounding him again. He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to focus. He was there, caring for you, showing you how badly he wanted to fix what he’d broken. He poured the water over the tea bags, watching the liquid swirl, darkening as it steeped.

As he waited, he thought about the look in your eyes when he wrapped the towel around you. The way you trusted him, the way you let him take care of you without question even after such a shit show of a day - a week - because of his immature insecurities.

Teas in hand, he took a deep breath, steadying himself before heading back to the bedroom. You were perched on the edge of the bed, the beginnings of a cloud of sleep hovering over you.

“Here you go,” he whispered, placing the mugs down before brushing a strand of hair from your face.

As soon as he straightened up, the towel wrapped precariously around his toned hips threatened to come loose. His hands flew to it, protecting his modesty with a sheepish grin.

A laugh bubbled out of you for the first time that day, shaking your shoulders softly as the giggles exploded out of you.

“I should have considered this scenario before getting into the shower with you,” Harry smirked, covering the soft blush of his cheeks with his free hand.

“I still have your t-shirt,” you offered, nudging your head towards your top drawer. “But I can’t help with pants.”

“Somehow a t-shirt with a loose cock feels worse than this,” Harry murmured, frowning as he glanced down at the tiny towel barely covering any of him.

You let your eyes linger on his body for a second, knowing that absolutely none of your clothes would fit his big frame. Your gaze dropped to your own t-shirt, thinking for a beat before pulling it back over your head and dropping it by your feet. “Solidarity,” you told him, not failing to notice how his breath caught at the sight of you, as if he hadn’t just run his hands over every part of your naked body.

Harry reached over you to grab your towel, turning away before pulling his own from his body, heading towards the bathroom with a little sway in his hips, as if he knew you’d be watching.

And you were. You leaned around the door frame, eyes locked on his tight ass until he was out of sight.

The weight in your chest lightened as you smiled, the domesticity healing a part of you that you didn’t know was broken.

-

You lay back against your pillows, cradling your mug in your hands. The room was dimly lit by the faint glow of the moon outside, casting soft shadows across the walls. It was quiet, save for the sound of gentle breathing, yet the silence between you and Harry felt heavy.

You shifted slightly, resting your head against Harry’s shoulder, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. You had been here before, so close, so intimate, but it felt different. There was a weight in the air, a lingering sense of uncertainty. You were clearly over the worst, both hearts mending slowly and carefully, but it still felt too raw and too heavy to be fixed so fast.

"Do you think we still have a chance?" your voice was faint, your words timid as if you didn’t actually want an answer, but the question pierced through the stillness with raw vulnerability. You screwed your eyes shut, afraid of what Harry’s answer might be, but you knew that it needed to be heard. The uncertainty was what had been hanging over your heads, both of your minds drifting to that very question in every quiet moment.

Harry’s arms slipped around your waist, pulling you closer ever so slightly, but he didn’t respond immediately. His gaze fixed on the ceiling, his jaw tightening as he thought. He had been hurt, and so had you. But the risks were far greater for him, and anything between you both, whether it was love of heartbreak, needed to be worthy of that danger.

"I don’t know," he admitted finally, his voice hoarse. "I want to believe we do. I don’t think we would be here now if there wasn’t a chance." He sighed, the sound heavy with frustration. "I don’t want to lose you. I never wanted to hurt you."

You swallowed hard, turning to face him with leftover tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

"I don’t want to lose you either," you said, your fingers tracing small patterns over his bare chest. "But I don’t know if things can go right back to how they were.”

Harry’s breath hitched, and he gently tipped your chin up so that your eyes met. There was something soft yet intense in his gaze, a quiet determination lurking beneath. "I don’t think either of us want them back to the way they were,” he muttered, his lips curling into a smirk.

You bit your lip, trying to contain the laugh that wanted to slip out. “Maybe better than before. But I don’t know if that can happen straight away,” you confessed.

Harry took your mug from your hand, reaching behind you to place it on your nightstand, before pulling you closer to his chest. Snuggled up to his side, with his arms right around you, you suddenly felt more secure in yourself and Harry’s future than you ever had.

“All we can do is try,” he whispered against your skin, his nose nudging at your cheek.

Slowly, you turned to meet his gaze, finding a softness in his face that you weren’t sure you’d ever seen before. His brows were slightly furrowed, as if even he was uncertain about his every move, but the tenderness in his expression made your breath catch. You leaned further into him, your lips ghosting across his.

Then his lips brushed yours, a sweetness in the gesture that made your heart stutter. Your eyes were locked on each others, seeking permission and acceptance, neither of you sure about how the other would react. But when neither of you made the effort to move away, or to protest, the space between you disappeared in the smallest of breaths.

Harry’s mouth moved with hesitance, as if he wasn’t sure he really had the right to be there with you, wrapping himself around you. But you kissed him back, of course you kissed him back, praying that any movements you made showed him just how much you wanted him there.

Your hand found his, your fingers lacing together as if to make your connection deeper. Neither of you pulled away, savoring the tentative closeness, letting the quiet stretch between kisses, as if testing the waters of something new and unknown.

When you finally broke apart, your foreheads rested against each others, breaths mingling in the soft light. Harry’s thumb brushed across the back of your hand, his touch grounding and real.

“We’ll figure it out,” he whispered, his voice low and reassuring.

You nodded, feeling your eyelids grow heavy as your eyes trailed over his face. “Tomorrow is a new day,” you murmured, nudging your head into the space between his shoulder and his neck, breathing him in with a content smile brewing your lips.

“Tomorrow is a new day,” Harry repeated, breathing out a deep sigh of relief.

oop thank you so much for reading!!!!

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[harryistheonlyoneforme]

this was LIFE. CHANGING. have i been living under a rockkkkk??????

📺 Sugar

A/N: Welcome to The Tonight Show with Harry Styles. The year is 1964, and you are his assistant. He's a bit of a shit. So this is a fun one.

C.W: sexual content: kinda rough— choking, spanking, degradation, slapping, spitting, squirting.

18+ ONLY.

***

New York City, 1964.

"Red leather, yellow leather, red leather, yellow leather."

The bright lights heated him even from behind the curtain. A warmth that coasted alongside his adrenaline. He struggled to keep his body cool underneath his designer sweater, felt his feet tapping restlessly in his leather oxfords.

This was his favourite part.

The cheers, the introduction, the attention.

You ran the lint roller over his shoulders as he sipped steaming tea from a paper cup. You made sure the collar of his plaid shirt was straight as it peeked out from his red sweater.

Another sip of steaming tea, another tongue twister.

"She sells..." You coached.

He took in a deep breath, watching you as you made sure he appeared perfect, rearranging the groomed curls on his head. Your green dress stood brightly against the black of the stage, the white cuffs of it framing your wrists as you fussed over his hair.

"She sells seashells by the seashore."

"One minute till curtain!" The stage manager yelled as he breezed by. "How're you feeling, Mr. Styles?"

"Like a million bucks, Sal!"

"That's the spirit!" Sal chuckled, running towards the side of the stage, probably chasing after an intern who wasn't doing their job properly.

"Remember, you're meeting your parents for dinner after this." You reminded, ticking off the mental to-do list that was really his. It was clogging your mind but after all, it was your job.

"I haven't forgotten." He rolled his eyes. Yes, you were his assistant, but he found you controlling at times and he had little patience for women who tried to control him. He preferred to be the one in charge.

"But you'll still find a way to be late, anyway." You stepped back with a huff. He really did make your job a living hell.

"I'm taking a refreshment in my dressing room after the show."

You scrunched up your face in disgust. Refreshment. You hated that you knew it was code for a visit from a desperate groupie. You remember when he told you how he chose which girl he liked the best. You'd been watching the audience file in and he appeared behind you, chewing gum with a confident pop of his jaw.

"Let me scope it out."

"Why?"

"Like to see who's gonna join me for a post-show soirée. See those girls?" He pointed to a group of overdressed girls, all giggling and excited for the show to start. "Bingo."

"How do you know which one to pick?"

He shot you a look, clicking his tongue. "The tits, sugar. I always pick the girl with the biggest tits."

"Ugh." You rolled your eyes. "You're disgusting."

"I'm just messin'," He tilted his head. "I'm an ass man, too."

You shuddered at the recollection.

"Yes, Mr. Styles." Your voice was laced with a seething sarcasm that he raised a brow at.

He didn't seem to conceptualise that you talked that way because that's how he talked to you. He couldn't see past his blinding, misogynistic ego.

You were purely volleying it right back at him. In hindsight, it wasn't the smartest move because you really needed this job and he had a tendency to fire staff with a snap of his jeweled fingers. He'd made the past six months hard on you and he really made your blood boil.

Who knew becoming Harry Styles' assistant would be akin to babysitting a grumpy toddler?

The Tonight Show with Harry Styles.

Hilarious with guests, a major flirt, and entertaining — even when reading out news segments.

He was well-loved by everyone. For his fun fashion statements, for his guests, his charm, his whole fantasy world on his show. Worldwide, he was adored as the most entertaining and handsome talk show host.

But you knew what happened behind the scenes.

Poised and perfect on camera, but as soon as the director called cut, you had trouble convincing yourself it wasn't a joke. People of the television world had a different sort of ego and you struggled to breathe among it all. Harry hated mingling with guests before and after the show more than he had to, he hated when the crew bothered him, he hated being approached by fans for autographs because he had a headache — or whatever excuse he was offering that day.

Don't get it twisted — he loved the attention he got from being so famous. You were surprised his head wasn't bigger. The one thing he loved most about being so popular was the fact that he could have anyone on his knees for him, be between their legs, and have them at their disposal. And he treated them like that was their only use.

The charming and cheerful Harry Styles.

Purely a falsity of a man.

The crew fled from the stage as the band started playing the introduction theme music and you swept the cup from his hand. You replaced it with two certs breath mints that he chewed on routinely.

"Wish me good luck." He demanded as you gave him a once over.

You beamed. "Break a leg."

"Thanks, sugar."

"No, like trip and fall."

His smile dropped into an unamused glare. "Oh, bite me."

The music ensued, getting louder with an abundant cheer from the live crowd, the curtain preparing to lift to reveal him. You rushed off stage, your Mary Janes clicking on the floor before nodding to Sal who gave you two thumbs up.

"Filmed before a live studio audience..."

"...All the way from Holmes Chapel, Cheshire..."

Harry took a deep breath, already bathing in the adoration he garnered from simply existing.

"...Give it up for your host, the one, the only..."

You rolled your eyes as he mouthed along with the words as they were spoken.

"...Mr. Harry Styles!"

The curtain parted and he stepped forward, his hands waving to the crowd before clasping them together as he took a small bow. He blew kisses, thanking them for coming and welcoming them. He egged on the drummer of the band while the crowd cheered for him.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!"

More cheers that he absolutely cherished and bathed in, letting them fuel his ego.

"We've got a great show for you tonight, we have special guests The Everly Brothers joining us!"

Your job while Harry was doing his magic spiel on stage was to check in with him during commercial breaks, smooth his hair, offer him mints, refill his water. Also to make sure everything was perfect for him when he wrapped up. He was extremely demanding, and while you were warned of that when you first took the job, you were still so surprised just how needy he was.

He liked ham and tomato sandwiches exactly fifteen minutes before he was put into his hair and makeup chair. He liked a cup of hot tea right before air time, alongside a few tongue twisters. He went through packets of Certs breath mints faster than you thought humanly possible. He also wanted a cup of black coffee waiting for him directly after he got off stage.

He didn't like to talk to anyone on his way to his dressing room unless it was Sal congratulating him and inflaming his already huge ego. Or security telling him about a waiting groupie in his dressing room. Or you, running over his schedule or helping him memorise his script. Well, he didn't like talking to you. He more or less answered in grunts or irritated comments.

As Harry settled in for his show post the joke segment, you ran around backstage. Ordering his coffee and one for yourself because you couldn't keep up with his demands without your own shot of caffeine. You were due within minutes to refresh him during the breed.

It really was an exciting job, aside from being a woman in a man's world. You were treated as such but you were lucky enough to be given the job in the first place. At first, you were nervous around Harry. It took him a second to warm up to you.

The first time you met was when he found you in his dressing room before a show, bent over the vanity as you watered his flowers. He thought you were there for a completely different reason and had quickly started to unbuckle his belt.

"Alright, let's make this quick."

You then spotted him in the mirror and turned with a gasp. "What are you-"

And before it could have got any more awkward, before Harry could even fully unbuckle his belt, Sal stormed in with a shocked laugh.

"Oh!" His amused gaze flickered between the two of you. "Harry, I see you've met your new assistant."

"I don't need an assistant, Sal. We've been through this. Why do you think I got rid of the last one?"

"Well, of course, you do! She's just here to help you perform at your best, Styles. Try not to scare this one off."

And while he'd probably never admit it to you, you actually were very helpful to have around. Once you'd stopped being so awkward and nervous and jittery around him, you found a dynamic that worked. One where he could be a condescending male and you could be just as snappy right back to him.

Past assistants had stuck to him like a bad smell and only irritated him. You did what was expected of you. Nothing more, nothing less. You kept your little purse stocked with certs breath mints, lint rollers and kept that fact that he fucked fans in his dressing rooms after and sometimes before shows quiet.

But after all, everyone was well aware. They even congratulated him on his sexual success. Nothing grossed you out more.

Aside from Harry being a mildly misogynistic, cocky, well-dressed thorn in your side, you loved your job. You met exciting guests whom you only dreamed of meeting. Stars you had posters of in your apartment, musicians whose vinyls you span on your turntable.

In your first week on the job, you met Santo and Johnny. They'd just finished a performance of Sugar Song and they flirted with you until you were a blushing mess.

Harry had watched the interaction, grumbling about professionalism and waiting for them to leave so he could torment you about it.

"Got the hots do ya, little sugar?"

"Kiss off, Styles."

That was the most colourful thing you'd ever said to him. The shock of it raised his brows and sent a singeing pang of arousal directly to his crotch.

There was a part of Harry that wanted to hate you. Because you were a woman bossing him around and because you got on his nerves. But the more rational part of him knew he could never hate you. You were too helpful and he'd be lying if he said you weren't one of the prettiest girls he'd ever seen. And he'd seen a lot of girls.

But he knew you were disgusted by his habits, how he slept with so many people. In his own sick way, he used it to his advantage, to keep you at arm's length. That and endless comments he knew would rile you up. And boy, did he rile you up. He'd finessed the art of it.

The show ran smoothly tonight, but by no means were you any less busy. You raced around with your clipboard tucked under your arm and two cups of coffee in either hand. You sipped on yours, grateful for the kick it gave. Harry was saying his goodnight to the crowd, his cup steaming in your left hand as you rushed to meet him.

"Thank you for spending the night with me, New York!"

His classic closing catchphrase. Cheeky and risky, but it was him and he got away with everything.

Thunderous applause overpowered the sound of your heels clicking as you turned a corner, beelining towards the stage exit. You were late. He'd be off stage by now, demanding things and barking orders like the diva he was.

As if you weren't going to hear an earful from him as it was, an intern bumped into you. The crash caused your two cups of coffee to spill all down the front of your dress. You barely noticed the burn.

"Seriously?" You seethed, holding your now empty cups out in exasperation.

"I-I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching-"

"You don't say."

You could hear Harry asking where you were and you groaned, absolutely vexed. You turned in the exact opposite direction of him and back to grab more coffee. You knew he'd especially need it tonight if he was meeting with his parents.

"What happened to you?" Sal guffawed and you rolled your eyes.

"If you see Harry, tell him that his coffee is coming."

"Bit hard getting it to him when you're wearing it."

"Not funny."

A few minutes later, you held a single coffee cup. Steaming, black. You wrapped both your hands around it, holding it steady and keeping far away from anyone who could bump you. Your dress had seen better days and the stain was obvious and uncomfortably wet.

You found your way back to his dressing room, where he'd no doubt holed himself up in to freshen up. You knocked, hoping he was alone and waiting for you before continuing on with his post-show... rituals.

"Come in!" You heard from the other side and you slipped inside quickly.

"So sorry, Mr. Styles, I had an accid- oh, my god!"

You took in the scene before you. Harry. With a girl on his knees in front of him. His jeweled fingers clenching a fistful of the girl's hair as she sucked him off. His brows were turned down in the middle but his eyes... his eyes were on you. And he was enjoying it. Enjoying the girl, and enjoying you watching.

"Alright, sugar?"

"I-" You didn't know what to say, and the girl didn't stop. You didn't know if that was her doing or if Harry was holding her down. You turned, and idiotically turned back around, taking the few steps towards him, and handed him his cup of coffee. You didn't meet his eyes, like a bumbling idiot.

You left the room, but not before hearing Harry take a hefty sip of his coffee and letting out a soft moan, "Oh, that's so good."

Vexed by his antics, and the fact that he made it his mission to throw you off like that, you signed out and went home. It was as vulnerable as you'd ever seen him and you felt an odd sense of jealously wash over you. Maybe you were jealous of past you, because she hadn't witnessed it. Or maybe there was a bit of jealousy there because you wanted to be the one on your knees for him.

As delightful as the thought was for a margin of a second, you felt ill knowing you'd be another Harry Styles groupie. And it would make your job more difficult which you didn't think was even possible.

But you couldn't stop thinking about it for the rest of the night. His blissful expression, the way he directed it at you as opposed to the mouth wrapped around him. He had told you to enter his dressing room so that you could see it.

The next night, you planned on fully avoiding him and pretending the whole thing never happened. Which was hard considering, you know, you were to follow him around and listen to his demands. And especially hard because you just wished he'd command you onto your knees already.

Sure, you found him extremely attractive — everyone did. You may have even had a little crush when you first met him. But then you got to know him, and his habits and his ways. Last night grossed you out just as much as it turned you on. You felt so thrown off and now you weren't sure how to act around him.

You arrived at the studio not too long before showtime, Harry's cup of tea in hand. You were a little bit late today but you figured he could survive fifteen minutes without you. He was in hair and wardrobe, getting his curls perfected and his forehead powered.

He sat in the chair with his legs spread, a pair of black dress pants and a white singlet, his inked arms on display. You focused on staying professional and met his eyes for a brief moment as you greeted him and handed him his cup of tea. No milk, and don't be shy with the honey, he'd told you when you first started.

His eyes scanned your attire, a pink dress with long sleeves but a shorter hem than usual, he noticed. He didn't hate having to look at your legs, your plump thighs, and the intrigue of what was between them ran rampant in his thoughts.

You had a soft yellow ribbon in your hair, keeping it swept away from your face in a high ponytail. He clenched his jaw, wishing it was his hand fisting your hair. He'd tie your hands up with the ribbon so you'd have to behave for him.

"Thanks. Dig pink on ya." He took a sip, his eyes full with mischief as he watched you over the rim of his cup. "Enjoy the show last night?"

You knew he was referring to you seeing him get blown by some random groupie so you ignored him, looking at your clipboard. "So Sal wants to see you in five, and we're reconfiguring some set pieces before airtime. So be on stage straight after you've seen him, okay?"

The hairstylist finished up, and you were left alone with him in the room. You were a lot stiffer tonight, more reserved than usual and he picked up on it right away. You raised a brow, wondering if he'd heard a single word you said.

He smirked. "Why did you come in last night? You know I have post-show celebrations in my dressing room."

"I was bringing you coffee! You told me to come in!" This man was exasperating. He knew that he'd asked you for coffee and told you to enter his dressing room after you'd knocked. He wanted you to see and now he was just winding you up.

He raised a brow. "Did I?"

"Five minutes." You reaffirmed. You tried to hide the way that his tone crept down your spine in slow, hot trickles.

He sat up in the chair, his hand reaching to cup the back of your lower thigh. You stopped breathing at the sudden touch and he pulled you towards him. His gaze was searing on yours, his eyes wondering and daring.

"You wanted to stay, didn't you? Watch me get my dick sucked while I watched you."

"No, I didn't." You whispered, letting him pull you forward until you were standing between his spread legs.

"No?"

"No." Even you weren't convinced by your answer.

"Hmm... you wanted to be the one on your knees for me. Is that it?"

You took a deep, shaky breath. His question fired something off in your brain. A realisation perhaps. You did want to be on your knees for him, being the reason for his pleasure, be at his command, make him feel good, make him fucking fall apart because of you.

"So pretty in this tiny fuckin' dress." He cooed. His hand came up, cupping your cheek. Your eyeshadow was a pretty soft blue and he adored it. His fingers trailed down, tracing your lower lip. "You'd look so perfect with my cock in your mouth."

You couldn't even suppress the whimper that ensued. Did you thank him? Slap him? Get on your knees and prove his point?

He didn't seem fazed by the fact that you weren't saying much. You were responding to him in other ways. Leaning right into him with your eyes lulled, your hands resting on his broad shoulders. Your chest heaving beneath that fucking pink dress. You were driving him crazy with how badly he wanted you.

The night before had been his own sick little test. Either, you'd be game, or you'd pull away from him completely. Regardless, he'd know where you stood and accept all that accompanied him. He knew how fucked up it was but you really seemed to enjoy the game.

His other hand squeezed the back of your thigh, inching higher. "What colour are your panties?"

You gasped at the question, so turned on by him and how bold he was. It used to scare you, but now being on the receiving end was a completely different ballpark.

"Blue." You breathed out.

"What shade of blue?" He pressed on. "Like your eyeshadow?"

You twisted your lips in thought. "Do you want to see?"

Harry released a shocked laugh, but his mind was fucking reeling. Did you really just ask if he wanted to see your panties?

"A peek couldn't hurt."

He gripped your hips and lifted you up onto the vanity behind you. You were shocked that he could lift you so effortlessly and smoothly. You crossed your legs, more to tease him than anything else. Your expression was sultry, and he felt lightheaded at the sight of you. Slowly, you unfolded your legs but didn't open them.

"Don't be shy, sugar. Show me and I'll make it up to you."

You let out a slow exhale, mustering up all of your courage. You were shaking, but it wasn't nerves. He had you so worked up and he had barely done anything. He'd riled you up and talked to you, and you were already fucking saturated.

Your legs parted, feet resting on either side of his thighs on the chair. Harry's eyes stayed on yours, his hands reaching to slide up your thighs, pushing the hem of your pink press up so he could get a good view of you, finally looking down.

And what a fucking view it was. Your thighs were soft, and he let his hands squeeze at them. Sky blue lace covered the area he'd been dreaming about for six months. He let out a soft groan and let his fingertip brush over the skin where your abdomen met the panties.

"Lace? Did you wear these for me?"

"I had you in mind."

"Naughty girl." He smirked, shuffling forward. His thumb brushed over your clothed clit and you let out a whimper, biting your lip to quell anything louder than might to escape. "Can I taste you? Please? Been wantin' to for months."

You nodded, your mouth dry. You'd let this man do anything to you, and hearing him tell you he'd been wanting this for months left you in a frenzy.

"Words, sugar. Let's hear 'em."

"Please," You whispered. "taste me."

"Good girl, that's it." He pulled your panties to the side, desperate to see you and taste you. You were glistening, so wet and plump for him. He sighed, running his thumb along your clit before venturing between your folds to feel how wet you were. Your thighs jolted as he slipped his thumb to collect your excitement and spread it up to your clit.

"Why are you so wet, hm?" He wondered aloud, his eyes meeting yours again.

"Because of you, Harry."

"Me?" Cocky little shit.

"Mm."

"Are you always this wet for me, sugar?"

You hesitated, not sure if you wanted to give him this. He would never forget it, probably remind you that he knew every day. Probably slip his hand up your dress just to appease his own curiosity.

"Only when you're nice to me."

"But you like me mean, don't you?"

"You're an asshole."

"Gets you wet, though."

Abruptly, as if impatient, he lowered his head and attached his mouth to your clit. The scorching heat of it was intense, and you grabbed a fistful of his freshly tamed curls to hold him to you.

His tongue ran over your entirety. From your entrance right back up to your clit, tasting you fully as his mouth closed around the sensitive bundle of nerves. You threw your head back, rolling your cunt towards his face as he softly ate you with a passion that had you shaking.

Before anything more could occur, Sal knocked on the door, demanding that Harry meet with him. He knew better than to enter any room that was hidden behind a closed door when it came to Harry. But if he'd known it was you behind that door with him, that would be another issue entirely.

You shot up, pushing him out of the way and righting your dress. You were tingling and you could still feel his tongue between your legs. His eyes were dark as he watched you from his seat, amused by your fumbling.

"Go before Sal comes back." You were flustered, your body felt electric and all he'd given you was his mouth for what — ten seconds?

He was too relaxed, and it only pissed you off further. He stood, sauntering towards you to press you against the vanity. His hand cupped your jaw, his rings kissing your skin.

"Funny that you're making demands when I'm the boss."

You breathed heavily, unsure of how to reply so you just held eye contact with him. Your lips parted as his head tilted, inching closer. His hand loosened, melting to your cheek so he could rub it with his thumb.

"Who's in charge, hm?"

"You are."

"That's right." He crooned, his lips brushing yours. "And who's gonna give you his cock later?"

The air was stripped from your lungs, the depth behind his question clear. Would you submit to him? Venture into this connection you had with him? You got on each other's nerves but fuck if there wasn't the most incredible sexual tension between you.

"You are, Harry."

He hummed, gripping your hand and bringing it down to cup his cock. He was hard, and pulsed in your hand when you gave him a squeeze. You just about crumbled when he moaned, his eyes lulling as you did it again. Harder.

"There's my good girl."

Sal knocked again, clearly impatient tonight. Harry smirked and could feel his lips curl against yours before he pulled away. He left the room with a confident strut while you were left shaking. You took a second to catch your breath, willing the arousal between your legs to simmer down before heading back out towards the stage.

You grabbed your purse and kept busy doing your job while Harry caught up with Sal. He was doted over, like always, and Sal told him how his viewings were skyrocketing. After he'd finished up his tasks on stage, he was whisked back to wardrobe so he could be styled.

Because Harry was busy chatting with tonight's guest and getting ready, all you had to do was wait for him to come to you. You peeked through the curtains at the set. The audience was being brought in and you were watching the seats fill from the side of the stage.

A piercing whistle sounded out from behind you and you twirled on the spot. He looked phenomenal. His suit was a sky blue, not too dissimilar to the shade of your panties. His shirt was a crisp white, his chain peeking through where it was unbuttoned, sat between his pecs and the light dusting of hair.

His eyes looked greener when he was dressed in blue, his lips more raspberry. He approached you and your eyes flew down to his shiny black oxfords.

"Whaddya think huh?" He spun on his heels, showing off. "Matchin'."

"Blue suits you."

"Suits you, too." Harry winked, standing close to you before nodding towards the audience. "How's it looking out there?"

Was he... trying to make casual conversation? After his face was between your thighs and all the talk that proceeded it? "Full house, like always. Did you... was that on purpose?"

"What?"

"The blue suit."

"Why else would I ask what colour your panties were, hm?"

"Because you're nosy."

"You know... every time you insult me, I get hard."

"Good thing I have plenty of them, then."

"Come on," He pressed you tight against the wall. "Gimme another one."

"Prick."

He chuckled, amused by how freely you were cursing. "That all you got?"

"You're the cockiest son a bitch I've ever met." You breathed out. His hands pressed to the wall on either side of your head, caging you in.

"Alright." He was crowding your space, the spicy-sweet vanilla of his cologne clouding your senses. He checked to see if anyone was around before clicking his tongue. "Take your panties off."

"What?" You were well aware that any crew member could walk by, and you weren't about to be caught slipping your panties down your legs.

"You heard me. Just lemme hold onto 'em until the show's over."

"Are you bent? I'm not giving you my panties. I need them and someone could walk by at any moment."

"Mellow out, no one's gonna see."

You deliberated in your head, genuinely considering it. His head tilted to the side, gauging your thoughts. This was so... exhilarating. Exciting. You were so out of it for him, and glad that you finally both agreed on something. You were both attracted to each other physically and that was about it.

Fuck it. Your hands reached beneath your dress, and Harry took a step back to give you room, keeping a lookout. You stepped out of those pretty little panties and held them out to him on your index finger. He snatched them up, eyeing how delicate they looked in his hand.

"Far out." He laughed, in shock that you actually did it.

You were a bundle of surprises tonight. He was throwing stuff at you that was pretty out there and you were throwing it right back. Sweet little sugar had a little more spice than he had anticipated.

"Cheers, sugar." He twirled them around on his finger and you slapped his shoulder.

"Don't just wave them around!" You hissed, looking around to make sure no one had seen the whole interaction.

Harry shoved them in his pants pocket and you smoothed out the bump they left, always a perfectionist. The guest of the night turned the corner and almost bumped into the two of you. You jumped apart, letting Harry chat to the guest on his own. He rarely enjoyed it and you looked back to see the subtle hints of irritation on his face. You knew he'd flash that charming smile and those adorable dimples as soon as the cameras came on.

With only a few minutes until the show was due to start, you bumbled around and made sure everything was perfect for him. You were very aware of the fact that you didn't have your panties on, and with your dress being shorter than usual, you had to be careful.

Sal breezed past you, beelining towards Harry and the guest with a huge grin. He greeted them loudly and you did your part by waiting to the side for further instruction. The guest was led to their spot for showtime, one of the stage managers with them to keep them entertained and to give their cues. Harry shook Sal's hand, hearing Sal's usual encouraging words before making his way towards you.

"Feeling okay?" You checked in, handing him a couple of Certs breath mints. You walked side by side towards center stage, and he wasn't shy about his stare on you. It felt different — the air around you. Usually filled with annoyance, was something else. Hotter, dreamier, sensual.

"Snazzy." He nodded, chucking the mints into his mouth. "Little foreplay always gets me goin'."

You huffed out a breath at his response, resisting the urge to retort something cheeky as the stagehand came to run through the show one more time. You righted his outfit, his eyes not leaving you as you made sure he looked smooth and perfect.

As the stagehand left, you grabbed your round brush from your purse and went over his curls. You began adding a little volume while he hummed and oohed and aahed to exercise and prepare his voice.

"You know New York..." You guided.

"You know New York, you need New York, you know you need unique New York."

"Again."

He sighed, closing his eyes so he could focus. "You know New York, you need New York, you know you need unique New York."

"Lesser leather..." You hinted at another tongue twister. You ran the lint roller across the lapels of his suit jacket and over his shoulders, catching his eyes and not missing the glint in them. "...never weathered..."

"It's funny," He smirked. "you're a tongue twister master right now, but you won't be able to say your own name by the time I'm done with you later."

"Oh my-"

"Yeah, I'm gonna fuckin' ruin you."

"One minute till curtain, everyone!" Sal's voice boomed. "Look alive, look alive!"

The crowd was roaring with applause as the show began, but all you could hear was your pulse in your ears as your heart thudded in your chest. Harry, who usually thrived off of the cheers, was only focused on you. On your sweet voice asking if he wanted to see your panties, on your feisty insults.

"Filmed before a live studio audience..."

You called him a cocky son of a bitch and all he could think about was bending you over his knee and seeing how much shit you talked while his hand was marking your ass with its imprint.

Everyone fled the stage, but you were stood completely still in front of him. Frozen.

"Harry..."

His lips brushed yours again and your ears started ringing.

"...All the way from Holmes Chapel, Cheshire..."

"Look at you," He crooned. "Runnin' round with no panties with that pretty ribbon in your hair. Dirty little thing, aren't you, sugar?"

You could feel how slick you were between your thighs and your eyes fluttered as his hand ventured beneath your skirt from behind, cupping your ass cheek with a strong hand before venturing further. His fingertips found your cunt and you almost collapsed against him.

He hummed lowly, rumbling in his chest. He pulled his hand away, very aware that the curtain was close to pulling up. He held his index and middle fingers in front of you, glistening with your arousal, and ran them along your lower lip.

You didn't even hesitate to suck his fingers into your mouth, not losing eye contact. Harry's brows turned down, his mouth dropping as he drawled out a slow fuuuck. And then he kissed you. It was messy and wet and quick. His lips were so soft against your own before he sucked deftly on your tongue, tasting you and your cunt at the same time.

"...Give it up for your host, the one, the only..."

"Fuck, can we cancel the show?" He growled, holding you to him with a grip on the nape of your neck.

"N-No. I have to go."

"...Mr. Harry Styles!"

You fled from the stage, walking backwards, not wanting to take your eyes off him. His expression was one of longing, his eyes not leaving you either. The curtain lifted, igniting him in the warmth of the stage lighting and the eruption of cheers.

He turned and faced the crowd, waving and blowing kisses. His smile was dazzling, and his blue suit was celestial under the bright glow. He was wrapped in success and adoration. You could see it radiating off him as he found centre stage and bowed.

"Good evening, New York!" He waited for applaud to finish. "How are we?"

You rounded the backstage area, checking in with crew and chatting to the guest.

"Can I just say..." Harry continued, clasping his hands together. "you look ravishing tonight, New York." More praise from the audience. "It's true, you do."

You rolled your eyes at the excited yells and cheers from the crowd. You watched him in a totally new light tonight. He was on a level that no one could reach. He was born to be on stage, to entertain.

He introduced the guest and brought them onstage, talking about their upcoming music and chatting them up. During the commercial breaks you checked in with the guest, and made sure Harry's appearance was on point.

His eyes were on you the whole time, and you could see him fighting the urge to make some kind of questionable comment. His eyes veered south and stayed on where the hem of your dress brushed your thighs.

"Need anything else?" You asked him politely, aware of the audiences stare on your back.

"I won't need coffee tonight." He educated softly and you nodded.

"We're back in fifteen seconds." The cameraman alerted and you gathered your things and went to leave. The guest was busy fixing their hair with the stylist. Harry's hand on your wrist stopped you, pulling you back.

"Actually, there is one more thing." He back peddled, and you raised an expectant brow, leaning in close to hear him. "Stay right over there, okay? Wanna be able to see you."

He pointed to a spot off stage, where only guests and select members of crew like Sal or the director were allowed to stand during air time. And he wanted you there. So he could look over and see you and know you were watching.

"I- Yeah, okay."

You rushed off stage, standing exactly where he told you to. He watched you right until the advertisement break ended.

"And we're back in three... two... one..."

His eyes switched back to the camera, his expression slipping into the charm that came so naturally to him once he was live on air.

He was a star. Delightful and eccentric and unapologetic.

He exchanged more jokes with the guest, who as an up and coming musician, was gearing up for their performance. You stayed to watch the show exactly where Harry wanted you, and you were pleased that you didn't get any slack from Sal. You rarely got to actually enjoy the show like this, and in a way, it felt like Harry had done you a favour.

His eyes often flicked to you after he'd told a joke or said something cheeky. Like he was directed it at you, or maybe he was checking to see if you found him as funny as the crowd did. When you didn't laugh as hard as he thought the joke deserved, he'd try extra hard to get you to laugh at the following one.

It was odd that he was trying to seek validation from you when he had millions at his feet.

As the show wrapped up, you couldn't have applauded him louder. You were proud, you felt giddy and bubbly inside. He was born for this, there was no denying it.

And then there was the realisation of what was to come once the show had finished. You became nervous. And insanely wet. The anticipation rattled yet excited you and you weren't sure what to make of it.

You rounded towards his exit, a crowd of crew and groupies waiting for him. He came to you first, as you were closest. He shot polite smiles to everyone but his attention was on you.

"How'd I do?"

"Phenomenal."

"Did you like my jokes?"

You side-eyed a few people waiting for a shred of his attention and felt the need to rush this interaction between you along. You didn't want to raise suspicions and you also didn't want to take away any attention he could be giving to these people who were clearly waiting for him.

"My tummy laughs from hurting so much." You whispered. His grin was contagious, dimples and his bunny teeth on full display. His eyes were warm as he stared down at you.

"Really?"

"Mhm."

A throat cleared behind you and Harry looked up to shoot them a reassuring wink and then looked back at you. "Wait for me in my dressing room."

It was an order, even with the softness in his tone. You licked your lips, not missing when his eyes caught it. You backed away, slowly pulling your ribbon out of your hair. His jaw clenched as your hair fell free.

"Yes, Mr. Styles. Right away."

His dressing room felt alien to you as you slipped inside, a familiar place with such a different atmosphere now. How quickly the dynamic had changed between you was dizzying. You always knew you were attracted to him, but you never thought you'd act on it.

And you certainly never thought he'd have his mouth on your cunt minutes before a show.

How long were you meant to wait? You checked your appearance in the mirror, your cheeks flushed with excitement. Your dress was pristine, as was your makeup and you wondered how long that would last.

You were riffling through Harry's pile of books when he came in. Your spine straightened, every nerve tingling. He closed the door behind him, leaning back against it.

His gaze was one that had you clenching your thighs together. An intimidating hunger, a deep lust. His eyes were dark, void of the bright glint they usually offered. He didn't say anything and that only made the tension thicker.

And then he locked the door with a click.

He took one single step towards you and you inhaled a sharp breath at the slow, torturous pace of it. Like he was taunting and teasing you. He shoved one hand in his pocket, the other reaching up. He gripped his lower lip between his thumb and index finger, his eyes finding your feet in your Mary Janes and trailing up your legs.

He was slow with that as well as if to keep you on your toes. He had always been so rushed and spontaneous with a lot of what he did. But this.... this he'd been thinking about for a long time. He'd had months to plan this through.

Plan how he was going to play with you, make you beg for him, make you feel good.

He really enjoyed the secrecy of it. And all that would come after. He liked the idea of meeting your eyes at work, both of you exchanging knowing looks because you both knew what it took to pleasure each other.

Fuck. His sex life wasn't complicated. He fucked fans because the likelihood of seeing them ever again was slim. But you were close to home, dangerously so. He saw you all the time. And somehow that just made him want you even more.

He produced your panties from his pocket and came to stand in front of you.

"Now," He began, lowering his head to meet your eyes. "are you going to need help keeping quiet?"

He fucking knew he'd have you screaming for him. He was just being precautious, knowing that on the other side of the door, the studio was littered with crew members.

You shook your head. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"I don't think you're that good."

He rolled his tongue along the inside of his cheek, huffing out a humourless laugh before pocketing your panties again. You were so snappy and cheeky with him and he'd be lying if he said it didn't make his dick so fucking hard in his pants. You were winding him up. Trying to poke at him and provoke him. Well, it was fucking working.

"Oh, you don't think so?"

"I think that's why your ego's as big as it is. Because you can't fuck."

He did what he wanted to do earlier that day; he grabbed your hair in his fist. You gasped through a surprised smile, and he brought you close until you were pressed against him.

"What did I tell you?" His voice was low, thick with arousal. You'd never heard his voice that deep and you felt it between your legs. "Hm?"

"That you won't need coffee tonight?"

He gripped your hair harder and his cock throbbed when you smiled.

"I told you," His eyes were burning. "that I'm going to ruin you."

The way he pronounced every word was electrifying. As if he was really trying to get his message across. How was this the same man that had asked if you laughed at his jokes after his show?

You flicked your tongue against his lower lip. "Do your worst."

His kiss was far harsher this time. Still just as messy, and you figured that was just how he liked it. He wasn't shy about it. He used his teeth, nibbling on your lower lip, biting on your tongue. He used his free hand to fist your dress at the small of your back.

You were pressed tight against him and fuck, he was so hard for you. Even through his pants, you were impressed with his size. You wanted to feel more, experience him fully. You didn't have all the time in the world, locked away in his dressing room. You were both painfully aware.

He pushed you back, landing you in the chair next to the vanity. He stripped off his suit jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. You watched as he pushed your dress out of the way, clearly annoyed that the fabric was disrupting him from his goal. Your center was still so wet for him and he couldn't even suppress the low grown at the sight.

"Pretty little pussy," He gripped your inner thighs, holding them apart. "still so fucking drenched for me. You enjoyed watching me onstage tonight, didn't you? Hearing everyone fawn over me but you know you're the one I want."

"I want you, too. So bad, please fuck me." You whined, your hips rocking up restlessly.

"I wanna have a play first."

"Fuck, please just-"

He spat directly between your legs, coating your pussy in his spit. His eyes flickered up to the clock on the wall before he attached his mouth to you with a deep moan. He licked along your entrance and then right up to the sensitive bundle of nerves, fully tasting you again.

He dipped his tongue inside you, fucking you with it before pulling away with a pop and sucking your clit back into his mouth. He trapped it between his teeth and flicked and twirled delicious patterns against it that had your muscles clenching.

He ate you as if he enjoyed it more than you did. He targeted your clit perfectly, able to read your body and its responses so well.

He held eye contact while had his mouth on your cunt, burying his face against you like he couldn't get close enough. Your legs shook on either side of his head, and he kept them spread with his wide hands. You could feel how cold his rings were against your skin.

Your hands reached down, tangling themselves into his curls. You held him against you, his mouth so scorching on you that you felt lightheaded with the tingling heat.

He pulled away momentarily, slipping his index and middle finger in his mouth, all the way until he drew back so teeth were peeling off his rings. He grabbed your hand, taking two of your fingers one by one and replacing the rings on them. They were huge on you but you admired how his jewelry looked on you, the ones he wore while he was on air. Glistening and extravagant.

Now he'd removed them so he could feel you properly.

Deciding that you were wet enough, he ran the pads of his fingers along your entrance. They veered up, circling your clit slowly before heading south again. You cried out softly as his fingers slipped inside you. It was an exquisite sensation and you stared down at him in wonder, mouth agape as you moaned out.

He curled them up, your spine melting as they pressed against a spot inside of you that had before now never been discovered. It was a blinding pressure, tight and full and so fucking good.

Harry smirked at the apparent shock on your face before he moved his fingers, curling them against your g-spot. As he found a rhythm, he brought his mouth back to your clit.

You arched your back, gasping for air as he worked you. He pumped his fingers hard, bringing you higher and higher to an elevation you'd never known. His mouth left your clit and before you could complain at the loss, he was spitting on it once more before giving it a mild slap with his free hand.

You screamed out, not expecting the harshness to feel that enticing. You were being far too loud for him to continue this comfortably. He didn't want anyone to interrupt and moreover, he didn't want you to get in trouble. He wanted to make you come over and over without a care in the world.

The same hand that slapped you retrieved your panties from his pocket before he shoved the lace into your mouth.

If you weren't so blissed out, you may have even be shocked by it. But at that moment, it was so hot and dirty. You trusted him to know best and look after you.

His fingers pulsed against your g-spot and you felt an intensity building in your abdomen and you rolled your hips towards his face. His mouth was relentless on your clit, desperate to get you zoned out with pleasure.

Your walls clenched and ballooned around his fingers and he pulled away, his eyes on you. They were full of lust and hunger, piercing right through you.

"Eyes on me sugar, don't look away." He wanted to watch you. To stare into your eyes, to see your orgasm shatter you.

He pumped his fingers, his pace blinding. He knew exactly what he was doing, knew exactly what to do to get you there. He grunted with the exertion, the tendons in his arm flexing and bulging with how hard he worked you.

And then he smirked, almost pleased with himself. "Have you ever squirted before?"

With your mouth full of lace, you weren't able to verbally answer. You shook your head and he thought the confused frown on your face was fucking adorable.

Before you could even think about what he was asking, the most euphoric explosion of bliss rocked through you. You cried out into the lace, your entire body shaking as you came harder than you ever had before. It was fucking annihilating. You did as you were told, your eyes not leaving his. It was hard, of course. You wanted to shut your eyes and bask in the hot sensation that was taking over every nerve in your body.

But he wanted to watch you. And he wanted you to see the burst of fluid that erupted from your cunt, past his fingers. "Thaaat's it. Good fucking girl, come all over my fingers. Just like that."

You writhed in the chair, grateful for his grip on you. You didn't stop shaking, tremors of pleasure rocking you. He helped you as you came down, your chest heaving and your body trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm. You didn't think it was possible for you to come that way, and you could feel yourself becoming addicted to him.

Harry stood, his hand running up and down your thighs, squeezing them. He removed your panties from your mouth, leaning down to kiss you deeply. You blushed as you tasted yourself on his tongue and curiously ran a hand between your legs to feel the aftermath of your orgasm.

He watched, thinking it was so hot to see your fingers venture between your folds and along your dripping thighs.

"Feel nice?" He hummed, chuckling at your curious expression.

"So nice, I've never... I didn't think I could do that."

"You got me all wet, messy girl." He smiled, kissing you again.

He stood and helped you out of your dress, peeling off your bra so he could play with your tits. He sucked and bit at your nipples, feeling the fullness of your breasts in his palm.

"You're delicious all over, sugar." He admired your fully naked body. "Can't wait to feel you properly. See what that tight little cunt feels like around my cock."

He palmed himself as he spoke, so desperate to feel you. His expression was one of lustful longing, and you could feel it resonate between your legs as if you hadn't just had an earth-shattering climax.

"Take your clothes off." You whined, going to sit up and pouting when he stopped you.

He started to unbutton his shirt, revealing the white singlet underneath. "Stay just like that. Wanna give you my cock while you're sitting in my chair."

The chair where he sat before every show. Reciting jokes in the mirror while his hair was fussed over. The vanity where he'd first seen you, bent over it watering his flowers.

He got rid of his shirt, clearly impatient. He peeled off the white singlet too and you could have drooled at the sight of him. His broad torso and shoulders, his toned tummy, his strong pecs. The ink decorating him. Fuck, you probably did drool.

He caught the leg of the chair on his foot and dragged you closer, undoing his pants at the same time. You shifted forward, your hand reaching out to boldly cup his cock. He groaned, lulling his head back on his neck. His hand came over yours and urged you to squeeze him harder.

"You're so hard." You mewled, humming as he watched you feel him. His jaw dropped as you moved your hand expertly.

"I've been hard for you all night."

He was hyper-aware of the position you were both in and that you were on limited time. The studio was due to lock up soon, left only to after-hours security and the cleaners.

You leaned closer, pulling his pants down with his help. You ran your lips along his length over his briefs, letting your tongue flick out. He could feel the heat of your mouth seep through the material and he was losing his mind over the fact that only his briefs separated your mouth from his cock.

You peered up at him through your lashes, grabbing the band of his underwear to pull them down. You'd always been so reserved and controlled but the look on your face when you finally saw his cock had him fucking spiraling. Intimidation, thirst, determination.

With his pants and briefs pooled at his ankles, he guided you to take a hold of him. You obeyed, wanting to please him just as much as he pleased you. You pumped him slowly in your hand, loving how he felt in your fist.

"Your cock is so..."

Harry laughed, cupping your cheek and staring down at you expectantly. "What?"

"Pretty." It wasn't the word you were going for, but it wasn't the wrong word, either. He had a gorgeous cock, so thick and long. It was silky and hot and pulsed in your hand. You were impressed and intrigued.

"Pretty?" His voice was so soft as he regarded you.

"Yeah."

Pretty. He could deal with pretty. His thumb trailed across your lips. "Mm, and how's it taste?"

You pulled away marginally, grabbing his free hand and urging him to grab your hair in his tight first once more. You laid out your tongue and licked the tip of his dick, glistening with precum. You hummed at his taste and took him deeper, using your hand to spread your spit down his shaft.

Harry moaned deeply, taking a solid step forward so that you took more of him past your lips.

"Swallow me."

"Make me."

He narrowed his eyes at you, watching as you opened wide and held still, waiting for him to make you take it. With his hold on your hair, he guided you to swallow his cock. You were able to take about half, your hand working what you couldn't yet fit.

But he was helping you, not pushing you too far but doing it inch by inch. Your eyes began to water and you gagged when he pushed in deep. Your other hand was pressed against his thigh to keep yourself steady.

"Good girl." He praised, his voice low. "Take my cock so fucking well, don't you?"

He couldn't wrap his head around what was happening. He'd imagined this day far too many times to count, and it was always blurred by the unpleasant dynamic you two shared. But here you were, sucking him off after he'd made you explode around his fingers.

You loved having him down your throat. You enjoyed the challenge. He was so big and when you were able to take all of him, it was a feeling of satisfaction. He held you down until you were choking and your nose was buried in the hair around the base of his cock.

He wiped a tiny bit of smudged mascara from under your eye, admiring the blue of your eyeshadow and the colour of your lips as they wrapped around his cock. Fuck, he needed to be inside you. He was desperate for it.

He slipped you back onto the chair, angling you so that you were open to him. It happened so quickly and your mind was reeling at the sudden change. He was in full control and had no issue putting you where he wanted you. And you trusted him. He was so arrogant and you wanted to see if his bite was just as harsh as his bite. Considering the wet mess you'd made, it definitely was.

"Fuck, can't wait to feel you properly." He sighed, grabbing his cock at the base and running his tip between your legs.

Your gripped his arms, absentmindedly smoothing your fingers over some of his tattoos. "Beg me."

"What?" He raised a brow, his tone perplexed.

"Beg me to let you fuck me. You're an asshole, tell me you're sorry and beg me. Then I'll let you fuck me."

You didn't miss the way his cock throbbed when you called him an asshole, the flex in his jaw as he took in your words. Beg? Apologise?

He scoffed. "That's cute. As if you don't get so fucking wet when I'm an asshole to you. Just like how hard I get when you call me shit like that with that filthy mouth of yours."

You rolled your hips up, gripping his hip to pull him closer to you. "Please, baby. I wanna hear you beg."

The very tip of him slipped inside of you and you both moaned at the sensation. You were so wet and tight and he knew he could step forward and be inside you fully. But the expectant look you were giving him stopped him.

He gripped your throat, leaning down so he could bend over you. He gritted his teeth, his eyes hard on yours. "Please let me fuck you, sugar. Get you gushing on my cock over and over, fuckin' drown in your wet little pussy."

"Are you going to be nice?"

"But it's better when I'm mean." He crooned. "I'll make you take my cock, fuck you so hard, and won't stop until you cry."

Your eyes fluttered as he inched forward a little, sliding himself in further. The head of his cock was so snug inside of you and the way he stretched you had your toes curling. You brought your legs higher, hitching them up to his sides.

"Please," You mewled.

"Tell me, sugar." He needed to hear you say it. "Tell me you want me to fuck this dreamy cunt."

"Fuck me, Harry. Please."

"Hard?"

"Hard."

His hand tightened around your throat as he rolled his hips forward. He stretched you, so fucking big that he had to take his time to push past your tightness. His gaze narrowed as he pressed in tight, his hips flush against you. As he became fully buried inside of you, your vision tunneled on him and him only. On how good he felt, how his eyes were trained on yours.

He'd thought about what you'd look like stuffed full of his cock but he could never have imagined you being this perfect. Whimpering and moaning so fucking sweet while his hand was wrapped around your throat.

"Please move." You begged, feeling so overwhelmed with him being so thick inside of you but not moving.

He slowly retracted his hips, your pussy trembling to keep him there. He slowly pushed his hips forward again, groaning lowly as you clenched around him. He started out slow as first, wanting to ease you into it, his hands holding onto your sides. But you were desperate.

"You call that hard, baby?"

He shook his head, smiling at the bite in your tone. "You sure you can handle it?"

"What did I tell you about that ego of yours-"

He growled, seeing that you were toying with him again. He didn't want you to have the upper hand. So he started fucking you. Hard and relentless and strong. You cried out at his strength, his cock pumping against your g-spot so perfectly.

"Fuck yes, take my cock. Good fucking girl."

It was electrical. You were saturated from your orgasm he'd given you, he hit so deep, pushing against your front wall. He gripped your breasts, admiring as they bounced while he fucked you. He spat on them, unashamed in his desires to be so fucking dirty with you.

"Love your tits." He grunted. "Let me fuck them one day, sugar. Wanna see them fuckin' dripping in my cum."

"Yes, take whatever you want." You gasped.

You'd let him. He was cheeky and an asshole but he fucked you far better than anyone else ever could and he was just getting started. And you could find ways to keep his mouth busy when it started spouting nonsense.

"Yeah?" He hung over you, his curls dangling down. "Will you let me have you again, hm? Let me fuck your throat, your tight cunt, fuck- make you my plaything?"

"I want to be your plaything." You sighed, his necklace swinging in your face, glistening silver.

"You do, don't you? I'll have this pussy on my tongue while I memorise my script. Carry your panties around in my pocket and give them back to you when you've earned them."

The pressure was blinding and he brought your legs up over his shoulders so he could take you even harder. The legs of the chair scraped obnoxiously against the ground as he fucked you into it. He was brutal, making you take his cock with each harsh thrust.

You cried out, sobbing his name. He was so deep and you knew you'd be feeling him for days after. He picked you up, sitting you on the vanity. You leaned back against the mirror, icy against your back. He hauled your hips towards him, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He took his cock in his hand and fisted your hair with the other, holding you still so he could slide inside of you again. You clenched around him mercilessly, and he had to flex his hips harder so he could take you properly.

The vanity jolted on its legs under the force of him. Your hand wraps around his neck, trying to stabilise yourself against the onslaught of his thrusts.

"Call me an asshole again."

"Harry-" You jolted underneath him. "Fuck, you're an asshole."

"Yeah? Wanna hit me?"

"W-What?"

"Fucking do it. Slap me like I know you've been wanting to for the past six months."

Your hands clutched at his curls. Hitting him was the last thing on your mind right now while he was inside you. Until he'd brought it up, that is. You'd wanted to slap him on a daily basis and you wondered if he'd been reading your mind.

Mustering up courage enough to do so, you raised your hand and slapped his cheek. Not as hard as you could have, but the groan he emitted told you that you weren't gentle, either.

"So good." He grinned, his cheek reddening from your hand. You gripped his jaw harshly, licking your handprint before kissing him.

Your kisses moved to his neck and he tilted his head to give you more access to the skin. He flicked his eyes to his reflection in the mirror, finding his lustful expression, his cheek red, His eyes were alight with danger and arousal, driving his hips into you as he stared at himself. You moaned loudly as he pounded into you, unrelenting. Wanting you so out of it so that you could never look at him the same way again.

He imagined you looking at him during rehearsals, looking down at your Mary Janes with flushed cheeks. Your soft cadence as you asked him when he would fuck you next. Your surprised gasp when he'd pull you into a supply closet to fuck you hard and quick before anyone noticed your absence.

Just as you grew accustomed to the position, he flipped you, brushes and hair products flying off the top as you found balance on it. Your eyes met his in the mirror and they blazed through yours as he pushed himself into your warmth again.

"Fuck," He hissed, throwing his head back as you gripped him tightly. He held onto your shoulder and fucked you, near on slamming you into the furniture. His hand crept up to cup your throat, the other doing the same as he found a rhythm.

"Right there, don't stop." You gasped.

"Gonna think of this every time I'm in this room." He grunted. "Sit in that chair before a show and think about your perfect cunt around me. How you smile when I wrap my hands around your throat, how much you love having my cock to choke on."

"I want you to fuck me on this vanity every day, Harry."

"Every day, Sugar." He was breathless. "So much I wanna do to you. Play with you, make your pussy cream for me. Fuck, how did we go so long without this?"

He started using his height to his advantage, screwing down into you. You struggled to grasp clarity, your senses clouding as pleasure took over. His hands tightened around your throat and he took you harder when a ghost of a smile touched your lips.

He slipped two of his fingers in your mouth, hooking them into your cheek and pulling. He hissed at how fucking submissive you were and how you were willing to be just as dirty as him.

Letting go of your neck entirely, one hand moved to your hip and the other to your hair. He pulled you up, forcing you to look into the mirror.

"I'm an asshole but I fuck you good, don't I?"

You wanted to slap the smirk off his face. He could sense your annoyance at how cocky he was. He took you harder and you eyed him in the reflection, not wanting to give him an answer. And that didn't work for him.

He gripped your hair tight, pulling you back until his lips met your ear.

"Don't I?" He spat.

"Yes,"

He spanked your ass. Hard. Twice. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, you fuck me good."

Pleased, Harry reached in front of you, getting you to wet his fingers with your tongue before rubbing fast circles on your clit. Your legs turned to jelly, your body melting against him as he took you hard and played with your clit.

You felt the rush of pleasure wrap around you and grow in every nerve ending. He watched you in the mirror, intent on seeing you come again. He held you up while you writhed in his arms, his hips unyielding as he split you in half with his cock.

Your hands flew out, pushing various things off the vanity top as your orgasm barrelled towards you. Harry gritted his teeth, bending his knees to follow you as you moved so he could keep fucking you.

"You gonna come? Hm? Dirty fucking girl. Running around the studio with no panties on. This cunt was so wet for me from the start, wasn't it? Tiny dress, bossy little heels, and that fucking clipboard."

This climax was more intense than the first, but no less wet. You exploded around his cock, crying out his name before his hand came over your mouth to keep you quiet.

"Shhh. Good girl. Keep coming on my cock, don't stop, don't stop." He was feral at how good you felt around him, rubbing your clit until you were trembling at the overstimulation. His hips slowed, faltering. He was losing composure the tighter your pussy clenched around him.

He picked you up, not wasting any time in settling back on the small couch in the room. He laid flat on his back, while you straddled his hips. Your hands ran over his chest, nails digging into the skin as he gripped your ass and moved your hips.

His cock sat snuggly between your folds and you shamelessly rolled yourself along his length. You felt empty without him inside you and you lifted up, grabbing his length with a shaking hand, and slid him back into your warmth.

You both moaned out softly, his cock throbbing inside you. He could feel how close he was, as could you. Your hot and wet and dreamy cunt wasn't helping him stave it off. His vision was trained on you sitting on top of him like a fucking angel. Your tits, red from his teeth, your full hips, and your blissed-out expression.

He rolled his hips up softly, encouraging you to move. "Ride me, sugar."

You found a rhythm that had you shaking, so sensitive from your orgasms His cock pressed deliciously tight against your g-spot with every roll forward. With your hands flat on his chest, you started to bounce on him. You were so wet and the sound of it was making him crumble. The wet slaps and the way your pussy was drenching him.

His gaze met yours and he just about came. Your eyes lulled, cheeks flushed and your mouth agape as you fucked him. The most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. He grabbed your tits, playing and pulling your nipples with deft fingers. He strained his neck, moaning as you picked up your pace.

You wanted him to finish. To feel the toe-curling euphoria he'd given you. The one given when a connection like the one you had was this electric.

"Ooh, shit. Just like that." He praised, squeezing your hips so hard you knew they'd bruise.

"Yeah? You love watching me bounce on your cock, don't you?"

You'd thrown his own tactic right back in his face. The sweet voice with the daring question. Of course, he loved it. He was addicted.

"Fuck yes."

Your hand trailed up, lightly wrapping around his throat. He could feel the rings he'd given you to wear against his skin and he snarled, holding your hips and screwing up into you, meeting your thrusts. Having you fuck him with your hand around his throat had him fucking spiraling into another dimension.

"You're close," You mewled, his cock throbbing hard inside you. "I can feel it."

"Yeah? Go on, make me cum. I'm gonna cum so fucking hard for you, sugar. Gonna fill you right up, fucking take it. Take all my cum- fuck."

He let you take him while his orgasm hit. It was white-hot intense, his grip on you not lessening as he moaned out your name. He pumped you full of his cum, the thick white ropes painting your walls. His brow turned down in the middle, his lips parted a little and you could see the whites of his teeth. The thick cords in his neck protruded under your hand.

He was stunning and animalistic and brazen, even in a time when one is most vulnerable.

The muscles and tendons in his arms flexed as he held you down on top of him, humming out lowly as the flames of his orgasm dimmed into embers.

And while neither of you was sure how it would feel post the explosion, you'd expected at the very least that it would be awkward. You didn't have the fondest attachment towards each other but fuck if you weren't addicted to each other's bodies now.

He sighed, reeling in his climax. His hands crawled up your sides, encasing you and encouraging you to come down to him. He hugged you, sighing in your neck before kissing the skin. You could hear a commotion in the hallway of the crew leaving and it suddenly sunk in that you'd just fucked your boss.

And neither of you could wait to do it again.

"Should we get out of here?" He asked after a few minutes.

"We?"

"Mm. Head back to mine if you want. Got the new Sam Cooke vinyl we can jam out to."

You grinned, trailing your finger along his lips. "Can we fuck again?"

His expression mirrored yours. "We are definitely fucking again. Don't have to be as quiet at mine, wanna hear how loud you get."

You rolled your hips, feeling his cock softening and his release beginning to trickle out of you. He hummed, squeezing you as if to warn you.

"Behave, sugar."

"But that's no fun."

He couldn't disagree with that. He checked the clock and knew there was only a slim window of time for you both to leave the studio without raising any brows.

"Come on." He slapped your ass. "Let's clean up and cut out."

You slipped into the bathroom, your legs shaky from how hard he'd taken you. You cleaned up, as he'd told you to. Your reflection in the mirror was a sight for sore eyes and you tried your best to look presentable and not freshly fucked.

As you entered the dressing room again and gathered your things. Harry had dressed in his more casual clothes, a pair of mint dress pants and a t-shirt, throwing his fur coat over his shoulders. He noticed the way you slipped on your dress and smoothed out your hair, touching up your lipstick. He approached you, wrapping his arms around you as you stood in front of the vanity.

"You know I'm just gonna get you all messy again, don't you?"

"I'm counting on it."

He smirked, kissing your neck and fisting the hem of that tiny dress. You pulled away, eyeing the time. You bent over, going to pick up your panties and frowning when he snatched them up before you could.

"Hey, I need those."

"What'd I say, hm? You'll get them back when you earn them." He slipped the blue lace in his pants pocket, straightening his fur coat and holding out his hand.

"Jerk." You walked towards him, nudging his hand away and leaving the dressing room. A showcase that the feisty dynamic between you was here to stay. The lights were off in the studio now, aside from a few dim ones high up on the walls. He scoffed, racing after you. He lagged behind a few steps, wanting to watch your legs as you walked. You turned, throwing him a dubious look and he smiled innocently as he was caught checking you out. "What are you-"

A gleam of a security guard's flashlight lit up the wall next to you. Harry swore, pulling you towards the exit before you were spotted. You wouldn't get in trouble per se, but being sneaky was so much more exciting than sticking around.

"Shit- let's haul ass, sugar. Wanna play with you all night."

The warmth and adoration he felt on stage, under those lights with every pair of eyes set on him. It was a dimmed sensation compared to how he felt with you. His sugar. Saccharine yet equally as fervent, gooey and thrilling and sticking to him as if magnetised to his cells. 

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

It’s You

Where Y/N’s chaotic energy clashes with her grumpy, tattooed neighbor, her mission to get on his good side turns into stolen glances, quiet moments, and a connection she never expected.

Au Harry

Word count: 13,395

Content warning: Cursing, smut, alcohol.

The warm glow of string lights illuminated Y/N’s cozy Los Angeles apartment as the sound of laughter filled the air. The small space was a mix of bohemian chic and personal touches—a gallery wall of polaroids, a cluttered coffee table covered with open bags of snacks, and a few empty wine bottles standing like trophies from their earlier indulgence.

Y/N flopped back onto the couch, a glass of red wine in hand, her cheeks flushed from both the alcohol and nonstop giggling. Her two best friends, Harper and Lila, sat cross-legged on the floor, snacking on popcorn and chips, fully embracing the childlike joy of their adult sleepover.

“This feels so right,” Y/N said, her voice slightly tipsy. “Why don’t we do this more often?”

“Because we’re responsible adults now, remember?” Harper teased, adjusting her oversized hoodie. “Nine-to-five, bills, and pretending we know what we’re doing.”

“Speak for yourself,” Lila quipped, popping a gummy bear into her mouth. “I’m thriving in my chaos era.”

Y/N snorted, and Harper rolled her eyes with an affectionate grin. Lila was the wild card of the group, always coming up with unpredictable ideas. And she didn’t disappoint tonight.

“You know what we should do?” Lila suddenly said, sitting up straighter. “Karaoke.”

“Yes!” Harper exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Oh my God, yes. Do you still have that mic we bought for New Year’s Eve?”

Y/N groaned dramatically, but her smile betrayed her fake reluctance. “You mean the mic that nearly got us evicted? Of course, I still have it.”

Lila grinned wickedly. “Perfect. Let’s wake up the entire building with our stunning renditions of 2000s throwbacks.”

Without waiting for further approval, Lila dashed to the hall closet and pulled out the karaoke mic, triumphantly waving it in the air. Harper grabbed her phone, already scrolling through a playlist.

“You’re starting,” Harper declared, pointing the mic at Y/N.

“What? No!” Y/N laughed, holding her hands up defensively. “I’m not ready!”

“Too bad,” Lila said, shoving the mic into Y/N’s hands. “You can’t escape destiny. Pick your song.”

Y/N sighed theatrically before smirking. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when your ears bleed.”

As Y/N queued up Since U Been Gone by Kelly Clarkson, the room erupted in cheers. The first few notes played, and soon enough, Y/N was belting out the lyrics with unrestrained enthusiasm, her friends joining in for the chorus. It didn’t matter that they were slightly off-key; in that moment, they were superstars in their own private concert.

Wine glasses were forgotten, snacks spilled, and every lyric was sung at full volume. It was the kind of night they’d remember for years—a reminder that no matter how grown-up they pretended to be, some things never lost their magic.

The girls were in full swing, harmonizing (poorly) to “I Want It That Way” by the Backstreet Boys. Lila stood on the couch holding the mic as if she were performing at Madison Square Garden, while Harper played air guitar with a half-empty wine bottle. Y/N was doubled over in laughter, her cheeks aching from smiling so much.

Just as they hit the iconic, “Tell me why—” part, a loud knock echoed through the apartment, cutting through their drunken fun like a record scratch. The girls froze, their voices trailing off mid-note. Y/N straightened up, exchanging wide-eyed looks with Harper and Lila.

“Uh… did someone order pizza?” Lila whispered, her voice unsure.

“Nope,” Y/N said, setting her wine glass on the coffee table. “Stay here. I’ll get it.”

With a mix of nerves and annoyance, Y/N padded to the door. She peered through the peephole and groaned. It was her new neighbor, Harry. She’d only exchanged a polite “hello” with him in passing, but he’d already struck her as the brooding, grumpy type.

Bracing herself, she opened the door.

There he stood: tall, disheveled hair pushed back in a lazy attempt at taming it, wearing a faded gray hoodie and black joggers. His sharp green eyes narrowed as he took in her flushed face and the muffled chaos behind her.

“Good evening,” he started, his British accent dripping with sarcasm. “I just wanted to say how much I’ve been enjoying your concert tonight. It’s like living next door to a live music venue. Only… worse.”

Y/N blinked, momentarily stunned by his dry humor. “Oh. Uh, sorry about that. We didn’t realize how loud we were being.”

Harry crossed his arms, leaning casually against the doorframe. “I figured. Thought I’d come over before I lost the ability to hear entirely.”

From behind her, Lila’s voice chimed in drunkenly. “Is it a noise complaint? Tell him to sing with us!”

Y/N turned and shot Lila a glare. Harper muffled a laugh.

Y/N sighed and looked back at Harry. “We’ll keep it down. Promise.”

He tilted his head, lips twitching into the faintest smirk, though his tone remained gruff. “Appreciated. Just… try not to turn it into a full-on festival.”

With that, he turned to leave, but Y/N couldn’t help herself. “You know, you could’ve just sent a passive-aggressive text or something.”

Harry glanced back over his shoulder, one brow arched. “I thought this had more impact.”

And then he was gone.

Y/N closed the door, leaning her forehead against it for a moment. When she turned around, Lila and Harper were staring at her like she’d just walked off the set of a rom-com.

“Um, who was that?” Lila asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Harry. My new neighbor,” Y/N replied, walking back to the couch.

“And Mr. Grumpy Pants is cute,” Harper added, grinning.

Y/N rolled her eyes, picking up her wine glass. “Yeah, yeah. He’s cute and cranky. Now can we please move on before you two start planning a love story?”

But the mischievous glint in her friends’ eyes told her they weren’t letting this go anytime soon.

The karaoke mic had been put away, and the girls now lounged in the cozy living room, passing a bottle of wine between them. The earlier buzz of excitement had mellowed, but the energy was still warm and lively. Lila was sprawled on the couch with her legs dangling over Harper’s lap, while Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor, sipping from her glass.

“I mean, let’s just talk about him for a second,” Lila began, her voice dramatic. “The mopey neighbor with the accent? And did you see those tattoos? They were peeking out, Y/N. He’s giving mysterious bad boy energy.”

Y/N groaned, her cheeks warming instantly. “Oh my God, Lila. He was literally just here to tell us to shut up.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s not hot,” Harper chimed in, grinning. “He has that whole ‘I’m grumpy but secretly charming’ vibe. Like, did you see the way he smirked when he made that little joke?”

Y/N tried to hide her flustered reaction by taking another sip of wine, but she couldn’t stop the blush creeping up her neck. She’d noticed too—his smirk, his sharp jawline, the tattoos curling up his forearm, just barely visible under his hoodie sleeves. She’d noticed everything.

“I mean, he’s okay, I guess,” Y/N mumbled, keeping her tone nonchalant.

“Okay?” Lila shot up, nearly spilling her wine. “You’re lying. You’re the worst liar ever.”

“Shut up,” Y/N said, laughing as she buried her face in her hands. “Fine, he’s cute. So what? He’s also my neighbor, and he’s probably annoyed with me forever now.”

“He’s not annoyed,” Harper said, nudging her with her foot. “If he were, he wouldn’t have made the effort to come over himself. He would’ve sent an email to management or something. He wanted an excuse to see you.”

“Right,” Y/N said, rolling her eyes. “Because nothing’s more attractive than a drunk girl singing Backstreet Boys at full volume.”

“Exactly!” Lila exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air. “You’re memorable. He’ll never forget you now.”

Y/N shook her head, laughing despite herself. “You two are ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Harper said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “But I bet he thinks you’re cute too.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed deeper, and she quickly changed the subject. But as the night went on, she couldn’t shake the image of Harry standing in her doorway, his messy hair, his smirk, and those tattoos. Maybe her friends weren’t entirely wrong.

The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds of Y/N’s apartment, illuminating the chaos left behind from the night before. Wine glasses, half-eaten snacks, and the abandoned karaoke mic were scattered around the living room. The girls were tangled up in blankets, sprawled across the couch and the floor like a scene from a sitcom.

Y/N was the first to stir, groaning as she rubbed her eyes and sat up. Harper was curled up on the couch with a throw pillow over her head, while Lila lay on the floor in a makeshift nest of cushions, one arm dramatically draped over her face.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Y/N teased, nudging Lila with her foot.

Lila groaned. “Why are you awake? It’s illegal to be this alive right now.”

Harper peeked out from under her pillow, her voice muffled. “What time is it? Do we even have the energy to exist today?”

“Barely,” Y/N replied, standing and stretching. “But I’m starving, so I’m making breakfast. Come help me.”

Harper and Lila grumbled but eventually dragged themselves up and into the kitchen, where Y/N was already cracking eggs into a bowl. Together, they whipped up a chaotic but delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, and a mountain of coffee.

The girls sat around the small dining table, eating in comfortable silence at first. Then Lila broke the quiet with a wicked grin.

“So… Harry.”

“Oh my God,” Y/N groaned, covering her face. “Not again.”

“Listen, I was just thinking,” Lila said, smirking. “Next time we do this, we should make it even louder. Really make him come back over.”

Harper snorted into her coffee. “Yes! Like, full-blown karaoke night but with amps and disco lights.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips. “You two are the worst.”

“But you love us,” Harper said, nudging her with an elbow.

After breakfast, the girls cleaned up and packed their things before heading out. Harper hugged Y/N tightly. “We definitely need to do this again.”

Lila nodded enthusiastically. “Louder next time. You know, for research purposes.”

Y/N shook her head, laughing as she walked them to the door. “You’re both insane, but I love you. Drive safe.”

Once they were gone, Y/N flopped onto the couch and opened their group chat. Almost immediately, messages started flooding in.

Lila: Next sleepover, let’s bring a fog machine. If Harry shows up, we’ll just act like it’s a concert.

Harper: Or we could rent a spotlight. Make it an event

Y/N: You guys are unbelievable. No more wine for you next time.

Lila: Admit it, you want him to show up again.

Y/N: …maybe.

Harper: KNEW IT.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at her phone, her cheeks warming yet again. As ridiculous as her friends were, they weren’t entirely wrong.

The day passed in a blur of cleaning and tidying as Y/N tried to get her apartment back to its usual organized state. By the time the sun started to dip low in the sky, the chaos from the night before had been erased, leaving her apartment looking like a picture of calm domesticity. Feeling accomplished, Y/N decided to check her mailbox before settling in for a quiet evening.

She padded down to the mailroom in her building, dressed in a casual but presentable outfit—high-waisted jeans and a simple white top. As she rifled through the usual junk mail and a couple of bills, the sound of someone entering the room caught her attention.

Glancing to the side, she saw Harry walking in, his hoodie replaced by a fitted black t-shirt and dark jeans. His tattoos were on full display now—intricate designs that wound up his forearm and disappeared under the sleeve of his shirt. He barely glanced at her as he moved to his mailbox, unlocking it with practiced ease.

Y/N swallowed her nerves and decided to seize the moment. It was better to make a proper introduction now than to let the awkwardness from last night linger. Turning slightly toward him, she cleared her throat.

“Hey, neighbor,” she began, keeping her tone light. “Figured I should introduce myself officially now that I’m not, you know, half-drunk and screaming karaoke at midnight. I’m Y/N.”

Harry turned his head, his green eyes locking onto hers. His expression was neutral, almost unreadable, as he gave her a quick once-over. “Harry,” he said simply, his voice low and clipped.

Y/N bit back a grin, determined not to let his gruff demeanor throw her off. “Nice to meet you, Harry. Sorry again about last night. I promise we don’t usually host impromptu concerts. Unless, of course, you’re a fan of boy band throwbacks.”

Harry let out a soft exhale that could’ve been a laugh—or just a sigh. “I’ll survive.”

Encouraged by the hint of amusement, Y/N decided to keep the conversation going. “You know, if you’re ever feeling nostalgic, you’re welcome to join us. We could use a fourth member for our extremely off-key girl group.”

Harry’s lips twitched slightly, but his expression remained mostly stoic. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Y/N tilted her head, giving him a mock-serious look. “You’re really hard to read, you know that? Most people at least chuckle at my jokes.”

Harry glanced at her, his gaze steady and calm. “Maybe I’m just not most people.”

For a moment, Y/N didn’t know how to respond. There was something almost challenging in his tone, but it wasn’t harsh. If anything, it piqued her curiosity even more.

“Well, Harry,” she said finally, flashing him a bright smile. “Challenge accepted. I’ll make you laugh one of these days.”

He didn’t respond right away, instead closing his mailbox and tucking the letters under his arm. As he moved to leave, he paused, looking over his shoulder.

“We’ll see about that.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving Y/N standing there with her stack of mail and a strange mix of frustration and intrigue swirling in her chest. One thing was for sure—Harry might be grumpy, but he was far from boring.

As soon as Y/N got back to her apartment, she tossed her mail onto the counter and grabbed her phone, already smirking to herself. She opened the group chat with Harper and Lila, her fingers flying across the keyboard.

Y/N:

Guess who I just ran into in the mailroom?

It didn’t take long for her phone to buzz with replies.

Lila:

Was it… oh, I don’t know… Mr. Grumpy Hot Neighbor?

Harper:

Harry! Tell us everything right now.

Y/N rolled her eyes fondly, typing out her reply.

Y/N:

Yes, it was Harry. I introduced myself properly. You know, as a fully functional adult and not a drunken mess.

Lila:

And? Did he swoon? Did he drop all his mail and propose on the spot?

Harper:

Or at least crack a smile?

Y/N sighed and leaned back against the counter, smirking to herself as she typed.

Y/N:

Absolutely not. He was… well, Harry. Polite but distant. He might’ve almost smiled, but I can’t be sure.

Lila:

Ugh, he’s really sticking to the mysterious moody thing. It’s so hot. What did you say to him?

Y/N:

I told him he was hard to read and said I’d make him laugh one day.

Harper:

Bold move, I love it. What did he say?

Y/N:

He said, ‘We’ll see about that.’

Lila:

STOP. That’s basically flirting.

Harper:

Right? That’s flirty! Subtle, broody flirting.

Y/N:

You two are ridiculous. It wasn’t flirting. He’s just… like that.

Lila:

Y/N, this is your rom-com moment, and you’re living in denial. Grumpy guy + sunshine girl is literally a trope for a reason.

Harper:

Exactly. Next step: get him to join us for karaoke.

Y/N:

Oh, sure, because he definitely seems like the kind of guy who wants to sing ‘Toxic’ with us.

Lila:

You never know. Maybe he has a secret karaoke voice that’ll blow us all away.

Y/N laughed to herself, shaking her head. Her friends were relentless, but she couldn’t deny that their enthusiasm made her smile. As much as she tried to brush off the encounter, she couldn’t stop replaying it in her head—the way Harry’s green eyes lingered just a second too long, the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. 

It had been a couple of weeks since Y/N’s encounter with Harry in the mailroom, and she’d managed to push him to the back of her mind. Between work, friends, and her usual routine, she hadn’t bumped into him in the halls or around the building. Life went on, and the memory of his grumpy smirk became just another amusing anecdote to share with Harper and Lila.

Until one night.

Y/N was jolted awake by the blaring sound of the fire alarm. Disoriented and groggy, she stumbled out of bed and grabbed a sweatshirt, pulling it over her pajama tank top. She shoved her feet into sneakers, grabbed her phone, and headed for the door. The hallway was chaotic, filled with neighbors in various states of sleepiness and confusion, all heading for the exits.

Once outside, Y/N joined the crowd of residents gathering on the sidewalk. The chilly night air bit at her skin, and she crossed her arms to keep warm. She craned her neck, scanning the crowd to see if there was anyone she knew—until her eyes landed on a familiar figure leaning against a lamppost.

It was Harry. His hair was a mess, sticking out in every direction, and he wore a hoodie over loose sweatpants. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, which, to be fair, he probably had. His expression was pure exhaustion, and he rubbed the back of his neck as he yawned.

Y/N didn’t hesitate. She made her way over, her footsteps crunching on the gravel. “Hey, neighbor,” she said, coming to a stop next to him.

Harry turned his head, his green eyes narrowing slightly as he registered her. “Y/N,” he said, his voice rough from sleep. “This is… unexpected.” He waved his hand around. 

She grinned, shifting her weight to one foot. “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. But hey, at least it’s the fire alarms being obnoxiously loud this time and not me.”

Harry’s lips twitched, and for a second, she thought she’d finally gotten him to crack a smile. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?” he asked dryly.

“Never,” Y/N replied, a teasing lilt in her voice. “It’s too good of a story.”

Harry exhaled softly, almost like a laugh, and shook his head. “Fair enough.”

They stood in silence for a moment, watching as a fire truck pulled up and a couple of firefighters headed inside to investigate. The air was crisp and carried a faint chill, but Y/N barely noticed. She glanced at Harry out of the corner of her eye.

“Do you think it’s an actual fire?” she asked.

“Doubt it,” he said, crossing his arms. “Probably just someone burning their midnight snack.”

“Sounds like a riveting Saturday night,” Y/N joked, earning another small exhale from him.

“Tell me about it,” he muttered, glancing down at her. His gaze lingered for a moment, and Y/N could feel her cheeks warm, though she tried to play it cool.

“Well,” she said, rocking back on her heels. “If it turns out to be a drill, I’m demanding a formal apology from management for ruining my beauty sleep.”

Harry’s lips quirked, just enough for her to notice. “I’m sure they’ll get right on that.”

For the first time, standing outside in the middle of the night with Harry didn’t feel awkward or forced. It was easy, natural even, despite his perpetually tired and broody demeanor. Maybe it was the ridiculousness of the situation, or maybe her persistence was finally wearing him down.

Before either of them could say more, a firefighter emerged from the building, shouting to the crowd that it was a false alarm. People groaned, some laughing as they shuffled back toward the entrance.

Harry pushed off the lamppost and looked at Y/N. “Guess that’s our cue.”

“Looks like it,” she said. “Catch you later, Harry.”

He nodded, his expression unreadable but not unkind. “Night, Y/N.”

As she headed back to her apartment, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a small spark of satisfaction. Sure, he was still grumpy, but she was getting closer to breaking through. And honestly, she didn’t mind the challenge.

By the time Y/N woke up the next morning, she had already drafted the text she knew Harper and Lila would demand. Still half-asleep, she grabbed her phone and opened their group chat, typing out the full story in detail.

Y/N:

So… guess who I bumped into at 3 a.m. when the fire alarm went off?

It didn’t take long for her phone to buzz with rapid-fire responses.

Harper:

Oh my God. HARRY?

Lila:

Please tell me you were both standing there in your PJs like the meet-cute of the century.

Y/N:

 No, it wasn’t a meet-cute. We just talked. Very normal. Nothing groundbreaking.

Harper:

What did you talk about?

Y/N:

I made a joke about how this time it wasn’t me being loud, it was the fire alarm.

Lila:

YES. Classic Y/N. What did he say?

Y/N:

He just… smirked. Or sighed. I’m honestly not sure anymore. He’s so hard to read.

Harper:

Smirking counts as flirting. I’m logging it.

Lila:

Definitely flirting. He wouldn’t have smirked if he wasn’t secretly interested. Men don’t waste smirks on people they don’t like.

Y/N:

Or he was just tired and didn’t care enough to argue.

Harper:

Nope. Not buying it. He’s interested. He’s just grumpy interested.

Lila:

Exactly! Brooding types like him don’t wear their feelings on their sleeves, but trust me, he’s intrigued. You just need to keep working on him.

Y/N rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but smile.

Y/N:

You two are absolutely ridiculous. We talked for five minutes, tops. Nothing more, nothing less.

Harper:

Sure, keep telling yourself that.

Lila:

Face it, Y/N. This is your slow-burn romance, and we are here for it. We’re already planning the playlist for your wedding.

Y/N:

Oh my God. I can’t with you two.

Despite her protests, Y/N couldn’t stop replaying the interaction in her mind—the way his eyes lingered on her, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Harper and Lila were reading too much into it… weren’t they?

Shaking her head, Y/N tossed her phone onto the couch. She had no intention of indulging their wild theories. But deep down, a small, stubborn part of her couldn’t help but wonder. 

Y/N lay in bed, staring at the faint shadows cast by her bedside lamp on the ceiling. The city sounds outside her window were faint but constant—cars in the distance, the occasional murmur of voices. She’d been tossing and turning for what felt like hours, her brain refusing to shut off.

It didn’t help that every time she closed her eyes, all she could think about was Harry.

It wasn’t intentional, or at least that’s what she told herself. She’d been trying to push him out of her mind all day, but now, in the stillness of the night, his image seemed to surface unbidden. The way his messy hair stuck out when she’d seen him by the mailboxes. The tattoos peeking out from under his shirt sleeves, the intricate designs winding across his arms like a story she desperately wanted to read.

And then there was his face—sharp jawline, green eyes that seemed to pierce through her defenses, and that faint smirk he’d given her last night when she’d cracked her fire alarm joke. It wasn’t a full smile, but it had been enough to spark something in her. Something she couldn’t quite shake.

She groaned, rolling onto her side and burying her face in her pillow. “Get a grip,” she muttered to herself.

But it was no use. She kept thinking about the way his voice sounded—low, calm, almost soothing in its quiet confidence. The way he seemed perpetually unimpressed but not unkind, like he was holding back a part of himself from the world. And the way, despite all that grumpiness, she felt drawn to him.

The worst part was that she barely even knew him. A few brief encounters, a handful of words exchanged—it wasn’t enough to warrant this level of overthinking. And yet, here she was, wide awake at 2 a.m., her thoughts spinning in circles around a guy who probably wasn’t thinking about her at all.

She sighed, flipping onto her back again and staring at the ceiling. “You’re losing it, Y/N,” she whispered into the dark.

But no matter how hard she tried to distract herself—counting sheep, replaying her favorite movie in her head, anything—her mind kept drifting back to Harry. How frustratingly attractive he was. How much she wanted to figure him out. And how, for reasons she couldn’t explain, she kind of liked the challenge.

The next afternoon, Y/N tied her apron around her waist and stepped onto the floor of the bustling Italian restaurant where she worked. The warm scent of garlic, fresh basil, and baking bread filled the air as the sounds of clinking silverware and cheerful conversations hummed around her. It was her favorite kind of shift—steady but not overwhelming, just busy enough to keep her energized.

She loved being a server. There was something satisfying about knowing the menu by heart, from the way the chef perfectly folded the handmade ravioli to the rich, velvety tiramisu that always left customers raving. She enjoyed the rhythm of it all: taking orders, making guests laugh, weaving between tables like she was part of a well-rehearsed dance.

By the time her shift ended, the sun was low in the sky, casting a soft golden glow over the city streets. Y/N slipped her bag over her shoulder, said goodbye to her coworkers, and began her short walk home.

The evening was warm, the kind of weather that made her glad she’d chosen this neighborhood to live in. She liked the convenience of being close to work, the charm of the old brick buildings, and the occasional vendor selling flowers or roasted nuts on the sidewalk.

But as she rounded the last corner toward her apartment building, the sky darkened suddenly. Heavy clouds rolled in overhead, and before she could process what was happening, the first fat drops of rain began to fall.

“Seriously?” Y/N muttered, looking up at the sky as if it might offer her an explanation. Within seconds, the light drizzle turned into a full-on downpour. She didn’t have an umbrella, of course—it had been sunny when she left for work—and now she was too far from the restaurant to go back.

She quickened her pace, pulling her bag closer to her body to shield it from the rain. Her hair was already plastered to her forehead, and her clothes clung to her as the rain soaked through. She groaned in frustration but couldn’t help laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

By the time her apartment building came into view, she was drenched. She jogged the last stretch, her sneakers splashing in puddles, and darted toward the lobby entrance. As she reached for the door, it opened from the inside—and there, standing in the doorway, was Harry.

Of course, it was Harry.

He was holding a takeout bag in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. His green eyes widened slightly when he saw her, taking in her rain-soaked appearance.

“Rough night?” he asked, his voice dry but laced with faint amusement.

Y/N brushed a wet strand of hair out of her face, shaking water from her arms. “You could say that. Apparently, the weather decided I needed a shower.”

Harry stepped back, holding the door open for her. “You’re dripping everywhere.”

“Thanks for the observation,” Y/N said with a wry smile as she stepped inside, water pooling around her feet. “I hadn’t noticed.”

He smirked, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary before he nodded toward the elevators. “You should probably get upstairs before you flood the lobby.”

“Wow, you’re so thoughtful,” she teased, her sarcasm barely masking the warmth in her voice.

Harry didn’t reply, but his lips twitched like he was holding back a comment. He stepped aside, letting her pass, and as Y/N headed toward the elevator, she couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder. He was still standing by the door, his attention now on the rain outside, but she could’ve sworn she caught him sneaking a glance at her as she walked away.

Y/N stepped into her apartment, water dripping onto the floor as she kicked off her soaked sneakers. She stripped off her rain-soaked clothes and tossed them into the laundry basket before heading straight to the bathroom. The hot water of the shower was bliss, washing away the chill of the rain and the lingering frustration of getting caught in it. By the time she stepped out, wrapped in a fluffy towel, her skin was warm and her mind was clearer.

Slipping into her favorite pair of soft pajamas—shorts and an oversized t-shirt—she towel-dried her hair and grabbed her phone from the counter. She hadn’t checked it since leaving work, and the screen lit up with a few notifications. Most were unimportant, but one text made her freeze.

Unknown Number:

Hey, it’s Harry. Got your number from the resident book. Hope that’s okay. I, uh, ordered way too much food. If you’re not busy and don’t mind eating with someone who’s terrible at small talk, you’re welcome to join me.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. Harry had texted her? She stared at the message, rereading it a couple of times, unsure what to make of it. The grumpy, brooding neighbor had gone out of his way to invite her over for dinner?

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she thought about what to say. She could easily come up with an excuse, blame the rain, or even politely decline. But something about his message—how he’d gone through the trouble of looking up her number and even made a self-deprecating joke—made her hesitate.

Finally, she started typing.

Y/N:

Hey! I’m surprised you didn’t mention how loud I was running through the lobby earlier. I’d love to join, but fair warning: I’m in my pajamas. I’ll bring wine to make up for it.

She hit send before she could second-guess herself and immediately got up to rummage through her small wine rack. She picked out a bottle of red, grabbed her favorite corkscrew, and texted him again.

Y/N:

Give me five minutes to make myself look less like a wet dog.

His response came almost instantly.

Harry:

I wouldn’t have said anything about the lobby, but now that you’ve brought it up… five minutes works. Apartment 4D.

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. She quickly towel-dried her hair a little more, tossed it into a loose bun, and grabbed the wine. As she stood by her door, nerves fluttered in her stomach, but she pushed them aside.

Whatever this was—neighborly dinner, an olive branch, or something else—she was curious enough to find out.

Y/N stepped out of her apartment, the bottle of wine in hand, and made her way to the elevator. As she descended a floor, her nerves started to tingle, though she shook them off. It wasn’t a big deal. It was just dinner with her neighbor. Her very attractive, grumpy neighbor with tattoos and a British accent. Nothing to overthink at all.

When she reached Harry’s door, she raised her hand to knock—but before she could, the door swung open. Harry stood there, leaning casually against the frame, one eyebrow raised.

“I could hear you coming down the hall,” he said, his tone dry but his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Subtlety isn’t your strong suit, is it?”

Y/N let out a laugh, rolling her eyes. “I’ll take that as your way of saying you’re happy to see me.”

“Something like that,” he replied, stepping aside to let her in.

Y/N walked in, glancing around as she entered. Harry’s apartment was similar in layout to hers but had an entirely different vibe. The walls were painted a deep, moody gray, with shelves lined with books, records, and a few small plants that looked suspiciously well cared for. A guitar rested in the corner by the window, and the faint smell of takeout wafted from the small kitchen.

“Nice place,” she said, setting the wine on the counter. “Very… broody chic. Fits you.”

Harry arched a brow as he closed the door. “Broody chic? Is that a compliment?”

“Depends how you take it,” Y/N shot back with a grin.

He shook his head, muttering something under his breath as he moved toward the kitchen. “Hope you’re hungry. I may have overestimated how much I can eat on my own.”

She followed him, glancing at the spread on the counter. There were containers of what looked like Thai food—pad thai, green curry, fried rice, and spring rolls. Definitely enough for two, if not three.

“You weren’t kidding,” she said, grabbing a spring roll. “Planning on feeding the whole building?”

“Only the loudest resident,” he said, smirking again.

She gave him a playful glare before grabbing plates from the counter and handing him one. “Lucky for you, I came prepared,” she said, holding up the wine. “This should balance things out.”

As they settled at the small table, Y/N couldn’t help but notice how relaxed Harry seemed. He wasn’t smiling, not really, but there was something softer about him tonight. Less guarded. And as they started eating, trading sarcastic comments and occasional small talk, she realized she didn’t mind the challenge of cracking through his tough exterior one bit.

Harry handed Y/N two wine glasses, their fingers brushing briefly as she took them. He didn’t say anything, but his lips moved slightly as if he was trying not to smirk. Y/N poured the wine, filling each glass just enough before sliding one over to him.

Meanwhile, he plated the food, carefully dividing the dishes between two plates. His movements were deliberate, almost methodical, and Y/N found herself watching him for a moment before realizing what she was doing. Shaking herself out of it, she grabbed her glass and followed him to the bar counter.

They sat side by side, the warm glow of the pendant light above them casting a cozy atmosphere. Y/N took a sip of her wine, her gaze flicking to Harry as he started eating in silence.

For a while, she stayed quiet, enjoying the food and the unspoken rhythm of their shared meal. But her curiosity got the better of her. Setting her glass down, she turned toward him slightly, resting her elbow on the counter.

“So,” she began, her tone light but probing, “why are you always so grumpy?”

Harry paused mid-bite, his fork hovering over his plate as he looked at her. His green eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger but as if he were trying to decide how serious she was.

“Grumpy?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, grumpy,” she said, her lips curving into a teasing smile. “You know, the whole emo, barely-smiling, ‘I don’t have time for your nonsense’ vibe you’ve got going on. Is it like… your thing?”

Harry leaned back slightly, taking a slow sip of his wine as he considered her question. “Maybe I’m not grumpy,” he said finally, his voice calm. “Maybe you’re just too… cheerful.”

“Cheerful?” she echoed, laughing softly. “That’s your explanation? I’m cheerful, so that automatically makes you grumpy?”

“Something like that,” he said, his lips quirking into the faintest smirk.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help smiling. “You’re deflecting.”

He raised his glass, meeting her gaze over the rim as he took another sip. “Maybe.”

“Come on,” she pressed, leaning in slightly. “There’s got to be a reason. I mean, you’re not actuallymiserable all the time, are you?”

Harry sighed, setting his glass down and leaning his forearms on the counter. For a moment, he seemed to be debating whether or not to answer. Finally, he shrugged.

“I’m not grumpy,” he said, his voice quieter. “I just… don’t see the point in pretending all the time. People put on this front like everything’s great, but most of the time, it’s not. I’m just… honest about it.”

Y/N tilted her head, studying him. There was something in his tone—something unspoken but heavy, like he was revealing more than he intended.

“Well,” she said softly, “for what it’s worth, I don’t think being happy is the same as pretending. And I’m not pretending.”

Harry glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “I noticed,” he said simply.

Her cheeks warmed, and for a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of the conversation settling between them. Then Y/N picked up her glass and raised it toward him.

“To being honest,” she said with a small smile.

Harry’s eyes flicked to her glass before he picked up his own, clinking it against hers. “To being honest,” he echoed.

And for the first time that evening, his smirk softened into something closer to a smile.

Harry swirled the wine in his glass, staring at the deep red liquid for a moment before setting it down and looking at Y/N. His expression was more open now, his usual guarded demeanor softened.

“You seem nice enough,” he said, his tone casual but sincere. “I could use a friend around here.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the admission. For a moment, she wasn’t sure how to respond. Then a warm smile spread across her face.

“Well, that’s unexpected,” she said, her voice light with humor. “I thought for sure you hated me after the whole karaoke fiasco.”

Harry tilted his head slightly, his lips twitching in amusement. “Hated you? No. Annoyed, maybe. But hate’s a strong word.”

“Good to know,” Y/N said, laughing softly. “Because I was convinced you’d written me off as the world’s loudest neighbor.”

“I’ll admit,” Harry said, smirking now, “the karaoke was… a lot. But it’s hard to hate someone who sings ‘I Want It That Way’ with that much enthusiasm.”

Y/N covered her face with her hands, laughing harder. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you remember the song. That’s so embarrassing.”

“It’s unforgettable,” he said with mock seriousness, taking another sip of wine.

When her laughter died down, Y/N looked at him, her expression softening. “For what it’s worth, I’d be happy to be your friend. You don’t seem as scary as you pretend to be.”

“Scary?” Harry echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah,” she teased. “You’ve got the whole ‘grumpy lone wolf’ thing going on. It’s a little intimidating.”

Harry shook his head, but there was a faint smile on his face. “I’m not scary.”

“No,” Y/N said, grinning. “You’re not. You’re just… Harry.”

He didn’t respond right away, but his gaze lingered on her for a moment, something unreadable in his expression. Finally, he nodded, his tone soft but certain. “Yeah. Just Harry.”

As they continued eating, the conversation grew lighter, the initial tension between them fading into something comfortable. By the time they finished their meal, Y/N realized that beneath Harry’s gruff exterior was someone she genuinely wanted to know better. And judging by the way his smirk had softened into something warmer, she suspected he felt the same.

After finishing their plates, Harry leaned back in his chair, resting his forearm on the bar counter as he glanced at Y/N. There was a comfortable silence between them, one she hadn’t expected when she first showed up at his door.

“Thanks for coming over,” he said finally, his tone quieter but sincere. “I don’t usually… do this.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, swirling her wine in her glass. “What? Order too much food or invite people over?”

He smirked faintly, shaking his head. “The second one. I’m not exactly the ‘neighborly dinner’ type.”

“Well, I feel special then,” she teased, tilting her head at him. “Although, if you’re not usually this social, why’d you invite me? I mean, not that I’m complaining.”

Harry shrugged, glancing down at his glass. “You seemed… different. I don’t know. Most people I meet just seem fake, like they’re putting on a show. But you’re…” He paused, searching for the right word. “Real.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the raw honesty of his words. “Oh,” she said softly, a smile tugging at her lips. “Well, thanks. I think.”

“I mean it,” Harry added, looking at her directly now. “You’re… not what I expected when I moved here. In a good way.”

Her cheeks warmed at his words, and she tried to play it off with humor. “Careful, Harry. You’re starting to sound like you actually like me.”

“Don’t push it,” he said with a smirk, though his eyes were softer than usual.

They fell into another comfortable silence, sipping their wine and letting the moment stretch out. Y/N felt herself relax more with each passing second, realizing how easy it was to be around him now that some of his walls had come down.

After a moment, she broke the quiet. “You know, for someone who claims not to be social, you’re pretty good company.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is,” she said, her grin widening. “You should let yourself be social more often. You might surprise yourself.”

He scoffed softly, shaking his head. “One step at a time.”

They shared a small laugh, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel like this was a turning point. Whatever Harry had been holding back before, he was letting her in now, even if only a little. It felt… nice.

Eventually, she glanced at her phone and realized how late it had gotten. “I should probably head back,” she said, setting her empty wine glass down. “I’ve already overstayed my welcome.”

Harry stood as she got up, shaking his head. “You haven’t. But… thanks for coming. I mean it.”

She smiled, grabbing the bottle of wine. “Anytime, Harry.”

As she walked to the door, he followed her, leaning casually against the frame as she turned back to face him. There was something unspoken in the way he looked at her, a softness she wasn’t used to seeing from him.

“Goodnight,” she said, her voice lighter now.

“Night, Y/N,” he replied, his smirk returning.

She headed back to her apartment, her heart unexpectedly lighter. Maybe Harry wasn’t as grumpy as he seemed—or maybe she was just getting used to it. Either way, she found herself smiling as she closed her door behind her. And for the first time in weeks, she wasn’t overthinking anything.

The next morning, Y/N woke up to the sunlight filtering through her blinds and a faint smile lingering on her lips. The night before with Harry had been… unexpected, but not in a bad way. She stretched, grabbed her phone from the nightstand, and immediately opened her group chat with Harper and Lila.

Y/N:

So, guess what? Harry invited me over for dinner last night.

It didn’t take long for her phone to explode with notifications.

Lila:

WHAT. DETAILS NOW.

Harper:

DID YOU SLEEP WITH HIM?!

Y/N rolled her eyes, her cheeks warming despite being alone.

Y/N:

No, I didn’t sleep with him. Calm down.

Lila:

Boring. But continue.

Harper:

Okay, but like, did it feel like it was going there?

Y/N:

No! It wasn’t like that. He said he had too much food and could use a friend, so I brought wine, and we had dinner. That’s it.

Lila:

You brought wine. That’s a date move.

Harper:

Right? Totally a date.

Y/N:

It wasn’t a date. We ate at his bar counter, talked a little, and that’s all. But…

Lila:

BUT WHAT?!

Harper:

Spill, Y/N. Don’t make us beg.

Y/N sighed, biting her lip as she typed out her next message.

Y/N:

Okay, fine. I wouldn’t mind if something happened, but it’s not like I know much about him. I don’t even know what he does for work.

Lila:

Oh my God. You want to bang the mysterious, tattooed neighbor. I KNEW IT.

Harper:

This is your grumpy/sunshine romance, and we are living for it.

Y/N:

You two are ridiculous. I’m just saying he’s attractive, okay? That doesn’t mean anything’s going to happen.

Lila:

It’ll happen. The sexual tension alone is probably unbearable.

Harper:

Agreed. You just need to ask him questions about himself. What he does for work, what his favorite food is, if he’s single—

Lila:

Definitely ask the last one. For research purposes.

Y/N groaned, shaking her head but smiling despite herself.

Y/N:

You two are impossible. But fine, if the opportunity comes up, I’ll try to find out more about him. Happy?

Harper:

Ecstatic.

Lila:

Can’t wait to hear how this unfolds. We’re already planning the wedding playlist.

Y/N laughed, tossing her phone onto the bed. Her friends were relentless, but they weren’t wrong about one thing—she was curious about Harry. And as much as she tried to deny it, she wouldn’t mind getting to know him better… or seeing where this strange connection between them might lead.

Later that month Y/N walked into her apartment after a long day, expecting the usual cozy warmth to greet her. Instead, an icy chill hit her the moment she stepped inside. She frowned, rubbing her arms and heading straight for the thermostat. She fiddled with it for a minute, but no matter what she did, the heater refused to turn on.

“Great,” she muttered, pulling her jacket tighter around her shoulders. It wasn’t unbearably cold outside, but inside her apartment, it felt like a freezer.

With no other options, she pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts. She didn’t know many people in the building—just Harry, really. And as much as she hesitated, her fingers hovered over his name before she finally sent a text.

Y/N:

Hey, random question. Do you happen to have a small heater or something I can borrow? My heater’s broken, and it’s freezing in here.

A few minutes later, her phone buzzed.

Harry:

Why don’t you just stay here tonight? I’ve got heat, and I don’t own a portable heater.

Y/N stared at the message, her heart skipping a beat. She hadn’t expected that. Borrowing something was one thing, but staying at his place? She hesitated, her fingers tapping lightly against the screen. Before she could overthink it, she typed out a response.

Y/N:

Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.

His reply was quick.

Harry:

You’re not intruding. Besides, it’s better than you freezing to death in your apartment. Bring whatever you need.

She bit her lip, a mix of nerves and curiosity swirling in her chest. Finally, she grabbed a bag and threw in some essentials—pajamas, a toothbrush, and a few other things—before bundling up and heading out.

When she reached his door, she knocked softly. It opened almost immediately, and there was Harry, leaning against the frame with his usual calm demeanor.

“Figured you’d take me up on the offer,” he said, stepping aside to let her in.

“Yeah, well, hypothermia didn’t sound appealing,” Y/N replied with a small smile, brushing past him into the warmth of his apartment.

As she set her bag down by the couch, she glanced at him. “Thanks for this, by the way. I really appreciate it.”

He shrugged, closing the door. “No problem. It’s just one night.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Wow, Harry. That almost sounded like you’re happy to have me here.”

He gave her a dry look but didn’t respond, instead gesturing toward the couch. “You can take the couch if you want, or I can grab some extra blankets for the guest room.”

She looked at the couch, then back at him. “Guest room? You have a guest room?”

“Barely,” he said with a shrug. “It’s more of a storage room, but there’s a bed in there.”

“Well, as long as it’s warmer than my apartment, I’ll take it.”

Harry nodded, heading toward the hallway. “I’ll grab some blankets.”

As Harry disappeared down the hallway to grab blankets, Y/N called after him, her voice light and teasing. “By the way, I brought some wine as a thank-you! You know, for saving me from my frozen wasteland of an apartment.”

She heard him chuckle faintly, his voice drifting back from the other room. “Thoughtful of you. What kind?”

“Red. A classic, nothing too fancy,” she replied, smirking as she started to take the bottle out of her bag. “Figured you’d prefer something a little understated, given your whole ‘mysterious and broody’ vibe.”

Harry reappeared in the doorway, carrying a thick blanket over one shoulder. He raised an eyebrow at her. “I think you enjoy calling me broody a little too much.”

“Well, it fits,” she shot back, grinning. “Speaking of which, I realized something earlier—I don’t even know what you do for work. So, enlighten me, oh mysterious one. What is it that you do?”

Harry paused for a moment, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “I own an art gallery,” he said simply, setting the blanket on the couch.

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “You own an art gallery?”

“Yeah,” he said, leaning casually against the back of the couch. “Small place over in Silver Lake. Nothing flashy, just local artists and smaller exhibitions.”

She stared at him, her curiosity piqued. “I didn’t see that coming.”

“What did you see coming?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know,” Y/N admitted, laughing softly. “Something more… I don’t know, corporate? Like sitting at a desk all day and brooding at spreadsheets.”

Harry actually laughed at that, a low, warm sound that surprised her. “Sorry to disappoint. No spreadsheets involved.”

“No, it’s not disappointing,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “It’s just… unexpected. I mean, you own an art gallery. That’s cool. Artistic and grumpy? You’re full of surprises, Harry.”

He shook his head, but there was a faint warmth in his expression, like her enthusiasm had caught him off guard. “It’s just a business.”

“Just a business?” she repeated, tilting her head. “Don’t undersell yourself. That’s impressive.”

He looked at her for a moment, his gaze steady. “Thanks.”

They fell into a brief silence, and Y/N felt the air shift slightly. It wasn’t awkward—if anything, it felt… comfortable. She gestured to the wine. “So, should we open this or what?”

Harry nodded, stepping into the kitchen to grab two glasses. “Why not? You’re my guest, after all.”

As he poured the wine, Y/N couldn’t help but think that for someone who seemed so guarded at first, Harry was slowly becoming an open book—one she was eager to keep reading.

Y/N leaned against the counter, swirling her glass of wine as she watched Harry pour his own. “So, how did you end up owning an art gallery?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. “I mean, that’s not exactly the most common career path.”

Harry took a sip of his wine, his gaze thoughtful as he set the glass down. “I’ve always loved art. Painting, sketching… that sort of thing. But it’s not exactly the easiest way to make a living.”

Y/N nodded, understanding the struggle. “So, the gallery was a way to stay involved in the art world?”

“Something like that,” he said, leaning his hip against the counter. “I came into some money after my mom passed a few years ago. It wasn’t a fortune, but it was enough to make me think about what I really wanted to do. I didn’t want to sit in an office or work for someone else. I wanted something that felt… personal. The gallery felt like the right choice.”

“That’s incredible,” Y/N said, her voice soft. “I mean, turning something you love into a business? Not many people can say they’ve done that.”

Harry shrugged, a faint smile on his lips. “It has its challenges, but I don’t regret it.”

Y/N smiled at him, feeling a new layer of respect for her neighbor. After a moment, he tilted his head, his eyes flicking to her. “What about you? What do you do?”

She hesitated, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Oh, nothing nearly as impressive as you,” she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m just a server. I work at an Italian restaurant a few blocks from here.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he was holding back a laugh. “Why do you say it like that?”

“Like what?” she asked, frowning.

“Like it’s nothing. You said you’re ‘just’ a server,” he said, taking another sip of his wine. “You’re in food service, right? That’s an art in itself. Just… a different kind.”

She blinked, caught off guard by his perspective. “I’ve never thought about it like that.”

He nodded, gesturing with his glass. “Think about it. You’re part of creating an experience for people. The way the food’s presented, the way you interact with customers—it’s all part of the artistry. Doesn’t matter if it’s a painting on a wall or a plate of pasta. It’s still something people connect with.”

Y/N felt her cheeks warm, a mix of surprise and gratitude washing over her. “That’s… actually really nice of you to say.”

“It’s true,” Harry said simply, his green eyes meeting hers. “Stop selling yourself short.”

She smiled, feeling unexpectedly lighter. “Thanks, Harry. I guess I’ll try to keep that in mind the next time someone complains about their breadsticks not being warm enough.”

He chuckled at that, shaking his head. “Breadsticks or not, it sounds like you’re good at what you do.”

Y/N sipped her wine, the corners of her lips curving up. 

Y/N swirled the wine in her glass, glancing at Harry over the rim. She hesitated for a moment, then decided to push the conversation a little further. “You know,” she began, her voice softer now, “you have a really nice way of thinking about things. The way you look at art, even food… it’s kind of impressive.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter with an amused expression. “Is that your way of saying I’m not just a grumpy neighbor?”

“Maybe,” she said with a small grin, her tone almost teasing. “But seriously, you’ve got a smart mind, Harry. You see things in a way most people don’t.”

He tilted his head slightly, his green eyes studying her as if trying to figure out her angle. “Are you flirting with me, Y/N?”

She laughed, feeling her cheeks flush slightly. “And if I was?”

Harry’s lips curved into a faint smirk, but he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a slow sip of his wine, his gaze never leaving hers. “Then I’d say it’s about time you stopped pretending you find me intimidating.”

“I never said you intimidate me,” she shot back, her grin widening. “I said you have a grumpy vibe. Totally different.”

“Right,” he said, his tone dry but his smirk giving him away. “Good to know I’m not scaring you off.”

“Not even close,” Y/N replied, her voice confident now. She leaned her elbow on the counter, resting her chin in her hand as she looked at him. “You’re not as scary as you think, Harry. In fact, I think you’re kind of… interesting.”

Harry chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”

“Right back at you,” she said, her gaze warm.

For a moment, the air between them shifted. The playful banter was still there, but beneath it was something quieter, something unspoken. Y/N didn’t know what exactly was happening, but she wasn’t in a hurry to break the moment.

Harry finally set his glass down, his expression softening just slightly. “Careful, Y/N,” he said, his voice low but with a hint of amusement. “You keep talking like that, and I might start thinking you actually like having me around.”

“Maybe I do,” she said simply, holding his gaze.

The corners of his mouth twitched, and for the first time, he didn’t deflect her comment. Instead, he just looked at her, something unreadable flickering in his green eyes. Y/N felt her heartbeat quicken, but she didn’t look away.

The mood in the room shifted as Harry leaned forward, his green eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down Y/N's spine. 

He tilted his head slightly, his voice low and teasing as he said, "You wouldn't be able to handle me."

Her breath caught, but she wasn't about to let him have the last word.

 "Try me," she challenged, her voice steady but laced with anticipation.

Harry's eyes darkened, the playful smirk on his lips giving way to something deeper, something more raw. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out and placed his hand lightly on her throat-not gripping, just resting, his thumb brushing the edge of her jaw. The warmth of his touch made her heart race, and she felt her breath hitch as he leaned in closer.

For a moment, the world around them seemed to disappear, the only sound her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. Then, without another word, Harry closed the gap between them, capturing her lips in a deep, searing kiss.

It wasn't gentle, but it wasn't rushed either-it was deliberate, like he'd been holding himself back and was finally letting go. His lips moved against hers with a confidence that left no room for hesitation, and Y/N melted into the kiss, her hand instinctively reaching out to grip the edge of the counter for balance.

She kissed him back just as fervently, tilting her head to deepen the connection. His fingers slid from her throat to the back of her neck, pulling her closer as though he couldn't get enough of her. The heat between them was undeniable, and in that moment, nothing else mattered-not the chill of her broken heater, not the wine, not the playful banter that had led them here.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads nearly touching. Harry's green eyes searched hers, and for once, his usual guarded expression was nowhere to be found.

"Still think I can't handle you?" Y/N whispered, her voice a little breathless but tinged with humor.

Harry smirked, his hand still lingering at the nape of her neck. 

"Guess I underestimated you," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "But l'm not done yet.”

Harry's hand slid down from Y/N's neck to her wrist, his grip firm but careful as he led her through his apartment toward his bedroom.

Her heart pounded in anticipation, her breath catching when he opened the door and gently but deliberately pushed her onto the bed.

Y/N gasped softly, propping herself up on her elbows as she looked up at him. The intensity in his green eyes made her pulse race, and the energy between them was electric, the room feeling heavier with every passing second.

Harry stepped closer, his movements slow and controlled, like he was savoring the moment.

He placed a hand on her throat again, this time with a gentle but deliberate squeeze that sent a shiver down her spine. His thumb brushed along her jawline as he leaned in, his voice low and commanding.

"Are you going to be a good girl for me?" he asked, his tone dripping with authority and heat.

Y/N's breath hitched as she nodded slowly, unable to look away from his piercing gaze.

Her voice was caught somewhere in her throat, so she let her actions speak for her, tilting her head slightly into his touch.

Harry smirked, leaning down until his lips were just a breath away from her ear. His voice dropped even lower, a whisper that made her skin prickle with anticipation.

"I knew you would be," he murmured, his tone both teasing and possessive.

The words sent a jolt through her, and she felt her body react instinctively, her cheeks flushing as she surrendered to the moment.

Harry's lips brushed against the corner of her jaw, trailing down her neck as his hand stayed firmly but gently in place. Every movement felt deliberate, like he wanted her to feel every second of his attention.

Whatever control Y/N thought she had going into this was slipping fast, and the way Harry's touch consumed her made it clear—he knew it, too.

Harry paused, his intense green eyes meeting Y/N’s as he leaned over her. His hand lingered on her throat, his grip light but enough to hold her attention completely. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, didn’t move any closer. He just looked at her, his gaze softening slightly, as if he were silently asking her a question.

It wasn’t just a look—it was a pause, a chance for her to stop him if she wanted to. His eyes, usually so guarded, were now open and searching, silently asking for her consent.

Y/N’s heart raced as she looked back at him, feeling the weight of his unspoken question. She swallowed, her breath shallow as she gave him the answer he was waiting for. Slowly, purposely, she nodded.

Harry’s lips curved into a faint smile, a mixture of relief and satisfaction crossing his face. “Good,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with an edge of tenderness.

He leaned down again, his lips brushing hers as his hand on her throat tightened just slightly, enough to make her feel both safe and completely at his mercy. And as the space between them disappeared, Y/N felt herself giving in fully, her trust in him unwavering.

Harry's piercing gaze never left Y/N's face, his touch as light as a butterfly's wings. He slowly pulled her to the edge, his hands on her hips. The soft rustle of sheets filled the room as she sank into the bedding, eyes darting up to meet his.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him undoing his pants, revealing his hardness beneath. She gulped audibly as he climbed onto the bed with her, their bodies pressed together from chest to knees. His hand trailed down her side, stopping just above her thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze. His touch sent shivers of anticipation up and down her spine.

"Tell me what you want," he whispered against her earlobe, his hot breath causing goosebumps to form on her skin.

She bit her lip, hesitating for only a moment before whispering back, "I want you to take control."

Harry's smirk was both predatory and reassuring as he nodded once in understanding. His hand slid underneath her shirt, tracing patterns across her stomach before moving higher till it reached its destination: her lacy black bra. He palmed one of her breasts through the fabric, eliciting a moan from deep within her throat that echoed around them. His thumb circled her nipple roughly, making it harden into a tight bud underneath his touch.

His lips followed suit, kissing along her jawline and trailing down towards that erect nipple. He flicked it with his tongue teasingly while simultaneously tug

His smile was wicked as he leaned back, a glint in his eye. "Is that so?" He trailed kisses down her neck, his stubble grazing against her sensitive skin, making her shudder with pleasure. His hand slid between their bodies and brushed against her center, indulging in the wetness there. She gasped at the sensation, arching into his touch.

"You're so ready for me," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He pushed her shorts aside and slid one finger inside her slowly, feeling the tightness surrounding him. Y/N moaned softly, her hips grinding against his hand in encouragement.

Harry removed his finger, teasing her as he lowered his head to capture one of her nipples in his mouth. He growled softly against her skin, sucking gently as he began to thrust two fingers inside her in short, quick motions that sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body. She cried out softly, gripping the sheets beneath her as he continued his ministrations. He quickly undressed her and stared at her body. Y/N felt hot under his eyes. 

They quickly lost themselves in each other's touches. The squeak of the bedframe echoed in the room as Harry positioned himself at her entrance and pushed inside her slowly. She gasped at the fullness but welcomed it, urging him on with a nod of encouragement.

He slowed down, taking deep breaths to regain control as he braced himself above her. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" he asked hoarsely, gaze locked onto hers.

Y/N nodded fiercely, signaling him to continue. With a low growl of approval, he began moving inside her slowly but steadily, their 

bodies meeting in a dance of desire. Every thrust sent ripples of pleasure through them both, their skin slick with sweat under the dim light of the bedside lamp. The air was thick with an almost palpable tension as they moved together, the sound of their bodies meeting filling the room.

Harry's grip on her hips tightened, his rhythm becoming faster and harder, mirroring the desire that flared in his eyes. Y/N met him stroke for stroke, their eyes locked on each other as if they were the only two people in the room. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the silence beneath the duvet, broken only by their heavy breathing and soft moans.

Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as she neared her climax, his name falling from her lips in a whispered plea. Without missing a beat, he quickened his pace, his cock driving into her with urgency. Their connection was intense, overwhelming, everything she could have asked for and more.

As she cried out in ecstasy beneath him, feeling her orgasm wash over her like a wave, Harry followed close behind. His body tensed as he groaned loudly, filling her with his warmth and love. Their hearts raced in unison as they finally collapsed onto each other, panting heavily but content.

He rolled off her slowly, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead before rolling onto his back beside her. 

Harry lay on his side, propped up on one elbow as he looked down at Y/N. His green eyes were softer now, a flicker of mischief dancing in them as he smirked. 

"So," he said, his voice low and teasing, "are you going to text your little girl chat and tell them we fucked?" Y/N let out a surprised laugh, turning her head to look at him. 

"What? No! They'd never let me live it down."

Harry raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. 

"You should. Tell them the hot, mysterious guy was really grumpy the whole time."Y/N laughed even harder, covering her face with her hand. 

"Oh, right. That'll really sell it. 'Hey, girls, just an FYl, my grumpy neighbor is not only hot but also excellent in bed. Highly recommend.'"

Harry chuckled, his grin widening. "Not bad. Make sure you add in the part about how I stayed in character the whole time-grumpy and all."

She rolled her eyes, still smiling as she nudged him playfully. "Fine. I'll throw in that your scowl is even sexier up close. Happy?"

"Ecstatic," he said dryly, though the amused glint in his eyes gave him away. YN shook her head, the laughter subsiding into a warm smile.

 "You know," she said, her tone softening, "you might be mysterious and grumpy, but you're also a little cocky. Just saying."

Harry leaned down, his face inches from hers.

"Maybe," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "But I think you like it."

Her cheeks flushed as she looked up at him, biting back a grin. "Maybe I do."

"Good," he said simply, before capturing her lips in a slow, deliberate kiss that made her forget about everything else-including her friends waiting for updates in the group chat.

The week passed in a blur of near-misses and brief encounters between Y/N and Harry. She saw him in the mailroom once, where he gave her a small nod and the faintest hint of a smirk before disappearing upstairs. Another time, they crossed paths in the hallway, exchanging quick hellos but nothing more.

Neither of them brought up the night they spent together, and while Y/N tried to brush it off as a casual hookup, part of her couldn’t help but wonder if he was deliberately avoiding the topic. She didn’t want to push, figuring Harry would open up if and when he was ready.

Then, one evening, as she was curled up on her couch with a glass of wine and her laptop, her phone buzzed with a text.

Harry:

Hey. Sorry I’ve been so distant this week. The gallery is getting ready for a new showing, and it’s been… a lot.

Y/N stared at the message for a moment, her stomach fluttering. She hadn’t expected him to reach out, let alone apologize.

Y/N:

Hey, no worries. I figured you were busy. New showing sounds exciting though!

A moment later, her phone buzzed again.

Harry:

It is. Stressful, but worth it. You should come by. It’s this Saturday night. Bring your friends if you want.

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Harry inviting her to his gallery? That felt… significant.

Y/N:

I’d love to. Are you sure you want me to bring my friends? They’re a little… loud.

Harry:

If they’re anything like you, I’m already prepared for chaos.

She laughed softly, shaking her head.

Y/N:

Fair warning: chaos is guaranteed. But I’ll be there.

Harry:

Good. I’ll send you the details tomorrow.

Y/N set her phone down, a small smile tugging at her lips. For all of Harry’s grumpiness and guarded demeanor, this felt like his way of extending an olive branch—a step toward something more. And she couldn’t deny that the idea of seeing him in his element, at the gallery, intrigued her.

She grabbed her phone again and opened the group chat with Harper and Lila.

Y/N:

Ladies, clear your schedules for Saturday night. We’re going to an art gallery.

Predictably, her phone exploded with responses almost immediately.

Lila:

Wait, is this Harry’s gallery?

Harper:

The grumpy tattooed neighbor has an art gallery?

Y/N:

Yes. He invited me. And before you ask—no, we’re not talking about the other night.

Lila:

Boring. But fine, we’re in. Is there wine?

Harper:

And snacks?

Y/N:

I’ll ask. But behave yourselves. He already thinks I’m loud.

Lila:

Oh, honey, we’re just getting started.

Y/N laughed, already imagining the chaos her friends would inevitably bring. But deep down, she was looking forward to Saturday more than she cared to admit. 

The week crawled by as Saturday approached, each day slower than the last. Y/N found herself obsessing over small details—whether Harry would be too busy to notice her, what kind of people attended art gallery showings, and most importantly, what to wear. She wanted to look effortlessly put-together, like someone who appreciated art but wasn’t trying too hard.

By Saturday afternoon, her room was a battlefield of discarded outfits. Finally, she settled on a sleek black jumpsuit paired with a cropped denim jacket and ankle boots—stylish but not over the top. She added a few gold accessories and a swipe of lipstick before grabbing her bag and heading out the door.

On the way to Silver Lake, she picked up Harper and Lila, who were already buzzing with excitement when they climbed into the car.

“You look hot,” Lila said, eyeing her outfit. “Very ‘I like art but I’m too cool to talk about it.’”

“Thanks,” Y/N said, laughing as she started the car. “I’m going for low-key, not intimidating.”

“Well, mission accomplished,” Harper chimed in, adjusting her blazer. 

Y/N glanced at them in the rearview mirror, grinning. Harper wore a bold red jumpsuit, while Lila had opted for a metallic skirt and leather jacket. 

By the time they pulled into Silver Lake, the sun had set, and the neighborhood was alive with energy. The gallery came into view, its windows glowing warmly against the evening sky. People were milling about on the sidewalk, chatting in small groups with glasses of wine in hand, while others filtered in and out of the bustling space.

“This is it,” Y/N said, parking the car and taking a deep breath.

“It’s so fancy,” Lila said, practically bouncing in her seat. “Look at all these people!”

Harper leaned forward, peering out the window. “I’m already picturing Harry brooding in a corner, glaring at anyone who talks too loud.”

“Probably,” Y/N muttered, her heart fluttering as she got out of the car. She grabbed her bag and adjusted her jacket before turning to her friends. “Okay, let’s not embarrass me too much, yeah?”

“No promises,” Harper said with a grin, looping her arm through Y/N’s as they headed toward the gallery entrance.

Inside, the space was even more vibrant. The walls were adorned with bold, eclectic pieces of art—paintings, sculptures, and mixed-media pieces that immediately drew attention. Soft music played in the background, and servers wove through the crowd with trays of wine and hors d’oeuvres. The hum of conversation filled the air, blending with the occasional burst of laughter.

Y/N’s eyes scanned the room, searching for Harry. She didn’t spot him right away, but she noticed how carefully curated the space felt—each piece arranged with intention. It was a reflection of him, she realized, meticulous and thoughtful.

“This is amazing,” Harper said, grabbing a glass of wine from a passing server. “He really knows what he’s doing.”

Lila nudged Y/N. “Speaking of, where is Mr. Grumpy Art Dealer? I want to see him in his element.”

“I don’t know,” Y/N said, glancing around again. “He’s probably—”

Before she could finish, her gaze landed on him. Harry stood near the back of the room, dressed in a crisp black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showcasing his tattoos. He was talking to a small group of people, but his eyes flicked toward her as if he could feel her presence.

Their gazes locked for a moment, and he gave her a subtle nod before turning back to his conversation. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and she felt Lila squeeze her arm.

“Oh, he definitely saw you,” Lila said, grinning. “And I’m not imagining the way he looked at you.”

“Stop,” Y/N hissed, her cheeks flushing. But she couldn’t deny it—there was something in his gaze that felt personal, even in the middle of the crowd.

“Go say hi,” Harper urged, giving her a nudge.

“Not yet,” Y/N said, grabbing a glass of wine for herself. “I’ll wait until he’s free. Let’s just look around first.”

As they wandered through the gallery, admiring the artwork, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that Harry’s eyes were on her—even when she wasn’t looking his way.

Y/N wandered through the gallery, sipping her wine as she admired the artwork. Each piece was so different—some abstract, others intricate and detailed—but all of them carried a sense of purpose. It was easy to see that Harry had a good eye for curating.

She glanced across the room and saw Harper and Lila chatting animatedly with a group of women, likely bonding over their outfits or the wine. Typical, she thought with a smile, shaking her head.

As she moved to the next painting—a striking piece of layered colors and textures—she felt someone step up beside her. There was a shift in the air, a quiet presence that made her turn her head.

It was Harry.

He stood with his hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on the painting. His black shirt, with the sleeves still rolled up, contrasted sharply against the warm tones of the art, and his tattoos seemed to blend seamlessly into the aesthetic of the space.

“It’s acrylic and resin,” he said, his voice low but steady. “The artist used palette knives for the texture and then poured resin over it to give it that shine. Took weeks to cure properly.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard for a moment before she found her words. “It’s beautiful,” she said softly, turning her attention back to the piece. “I love the depth in it. It feels like you could reach in and get lost.”

Harry glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “That’s the idea. The artist wanted it to feel immersive, like stepping into an emotional landscape.”

She looked at him, her curiosity piqued. “Do you know all the details of every piece in here?”

“Pretty much,” he admitted, his smirk growing. “Part of the job. I like to understand the process—it helps me connect with the artists and explain it to people who come through.”

Y/N smiled, sipping her wine. “It’s impressive. You’ve created something really special here.”

Harry looked at her again, his green eyes studying her for a moment. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “It means a lot, coming from you.”

She tilted her head, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “Why me?”

He shrugged slightly, his gaze flicking back to the painting. “Because you actually look at the art. Most people just see it, but you’re trying to understand it.”

Her cheeks warmed at the unexpected compliment, and she turned back to the painting to hide her flustered expression. “Well, you make it hard not to appreciate it. The way you talk about it… it’s obvious how much you care.”

He didn’t respond right away, and the silence between them felt comfortable, almost intimate. Finally, he leaned in just slightly, his voice softer now.

“I’m glad you came,” he said.

Y/N turned to look at him again, her heart skipping a beat at the closeness between them. “Me too,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, the bustling crowd around them faded into the background, leaving just the two of them standing there, the art surrounding them as if it were part of their story.

Harry slipped his hand into Y/N’s, his fingers warm and steady as he gently tugged her through the gallery. She followed without question, her curiosity mounting as they weaved between groups of people. He didn’t say a word, just led her down a quieter section of the space where fewer people were lingering.

When they stopped, Y/N noticed the piece in front of them was a painting—bold yet delicate, with strokes that somehow conveyed both strength and softness. She tilted her head, studying it, drawn to the way the light and shadows played across the figure in the painting. There was something familiar about it, something that tugged at her memory.

She took a step closer, her heart beating faster as the realization slowly dawned on her. The painting wasn’t just beautiful—it was her.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she turned to Harry, her eyes wide. “Is this…?”

He nodded, his gaze steady but unreadable. “It’s you.”

Y/N stared at the painting again, her mind racing. The details were unmistakable—the way her hair fell, the soft curve of her face, the hint of a thoughtful expression she’d never realized she wore. But it wasn’t just her likeness; it was the way the he had captured something deeper, something vulnerable and raw.

“How?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “I started it a few weeks after I moved in. I didn’t even know your name then. I just… saw you.”

Her chest tightened as she turned to him again. “You saw me?”

He nodded, his green eyes softer now. “In the mailroom. In the hallway. On your balcony once, drinking coffee. I didn’t know why, but there was something about you that I couldn’t get out of my head. So, I painted.”

Y/N felt her cheeks warm, a mix of emotions swirling inside her—flattery, disbelief, and something she couldn’t quite name. “Harry, this is… incredible. I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I just thought you should see it. This is the first time I’ve shown it to anyone.”

Her heart thudded in her chest, and she took a step closer to him, her voice soft. “Why me?”

Harry’s gaze locked on hers, his expression open and sincere. “Because it’s you, Y/N. I couldn’t have painted this if it wasn’t.”

The noise of the gallery faded around them as she stood there, her hand still in his, staring up at the painting of herself. For the first time, she saw herself through someone else’s eyes—not as the loud, chaotic neighbor, but as something worthy of being captured in art.

And Harry, the grumpy, mysterious neighbor, was the one who had done it.

[smuttyaf]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞𝐧, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚.

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞: 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞/𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐫, 𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐬 & 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐝𝐬𝐦. 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭.

𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬:

his life is starting to affect you.

𝐣𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧’𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐛:

the story about how you meet.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐭:

harry shows you what he does for work.

𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐦𝐫. 𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞𝐬: ( 𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 )

harry introduces bdsm.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐦

secrets cut wounds into the relationship.

𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞

you’re compelled to adapt to his lifestyle.

𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞? ( 𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 )

harry likes to tease you.

[purplecoffee13]

So I have unfortunately JUST found your page. I hate that I’d didn’t find it sooner! Slowly working my way through everything 🥰

I was wondering if you had any series recommendations for Harry? Nothing in particular, just wanted a series to lose myself in. Thanks!

Ahh I’m so glad you’re here!!! Hope you enjoy the stories🥰💞

There’s so many amazing authors on here!! I’ll give you my current favorite recs!!!

First of all:

favourite crime series by @harryslittlefreakk

this series is soooo good!!! Her writing skills are top tier I’m in awe of it + I have it on good authority that the upcoming chapters will have you clutching your pearls😋😏

La Villa Gialla & Paradiso Rosa by @temptress-writes

This is a two part one-shot but it has a total word count of 26k so it’ll keep you entertained🤭 but basically everything she writes is great I feel like each of them have singlehandedly altered my brain chemistry

One For The Money by @freedomfireflies

I am currently reading this series and I am absolutely obsessed I cannot believe I hadn’t read it before?! Smut is top tier and the dynamics have me smiling at my phone like an idiot teehee

In general, anything by these authors is amazing so you should definitely dig into their masterlists as well!😋

in the case that I’m a complete moron and you actually meant I recommend something of my own work, I would suggest you read:

nemesis with benefits

since it’s my longest series yet + it’s pretty spicy, and:

Mr. Sunshine

if you’re in the mood for something cuter

Hope this helps you along!!! Have fun reading!!🩷💞💘❤️🥰

[harryistheonlyoneforme]

GODDDDDDDDDDDD IM UNWELL

Bad Idea, Right? H.S

Summary: It was always a bad idea to answer your ex-boyfriend's call... yet time and time again you just couldn't help yourself. This is one of those times, and possibly the last you'd be referring to him as an ex. (non-famous musician LHH)

Warning: smut. oral (f receiving), penetration, dirty talk, mild spanking, mild choking

Word count: 10k+

Author’s note: This is based off one of my fav songs atm, 'Bad idea right?' by Olivia Rodrigo, as clearly indicated by the title! It also draws inspo from 'Talk' which gives LHH vibes to a T so I couldn't not use it... anyway, enjoyyyyy x

- Find my General Masterlist here -

The first time Harry called you, you thought you were seeing things. 

Your ex-boyfriend wasn’t a common notification in your phone. You didn’t call or text on the regular, and why would you? You were exes for a reason, otherwise, you’d probably be with him right now instead of out with your friends.

And as far as you knew, at least since your minor relapse where you tripped and fell into his bed all those months ago, he completely forgot your existence and deleted your number the second you left his apartment. 

While Harry was your ex, you had a bad habit of winding up in his car or his apartment every now and then. You just couldn’t help it! He had such a devilish-looking face and every time you saw him your brain just turned to absolute mush. Like it emptied out of thoughts and couldn’t do anything but say ahh. Like a happy sigh when you first enter a luxurious hot spa.

Plus, you were just exes turned friends. Just two people trying to reconnect in a bid to heal the hole you created in your friendship group. That's what you told yourself anyway. Really, it was just an excuse to somehow validate the poor decision-making skills you seemed to have when it came to him. One moment you could be ‘catching up’, then the next you’d be naked underneath him.

It wasn’t your fault that every fucking time you guys reconnected you ended up with his dick inside you. 

You’ll just blame Harry for that one.

However, it had been months since you reconnected. At first, you were pissed, then you cried like you two just broke up, then it was like Harry didn’t exist. However, that was hard when every man you tried to hook up with in a bid to forget him only brought him back into your mind due to how disappointing the experiences were.

So you were tipsy, maybe too tipsy to have Harry call you. But you pushed through it and ignored it the first time because truly you thought your brain was playing tricks on you. Three months of nothing, and now here he was calling you? It had to be a figment of your imagination.

Then he called again. That time you were starting to get convinced that he was in fact calling you and that it wasn’t the alcohol. But you resisted. You slung your arm around a stranger and pulled him in for a sloppy and quite frankly disgusting kiss.

It was wet and uncoordinated, but it was a distraction. A welcome one at that. Once the kiss was over, the stranger smiled and asked if you wanted to go get a drink from the bar. You just nodded and told one of your friends where you were going before letting the man drag you along to the bar.

Harry didn’t call back right away. It felt like 3 hours of listening to this guy go on and on about his market shares and the ‘right way’ to invest your money, a topic that frankly made your ears bleed before your phone vibrated in your purse again. This time, you were happy for the interruption and even happier when it was Harry’s name on the screen.

“I’ll be right back!” you yelled over the music, not bothering to wait for a response from the mystery man in front of you before you were off the bar stool and walking out the back to the smoker's courtyard for some quiet.

“Hello?” you answered, wrapping your arm around yourself and shivering a little at the cool air. Your outfit didn’t have the most coverage and while you did bring a jacket it was cloaked and once paid you could only check-in and check-out once. It wasn’t worth it for a five-minute phone conversation.

“Hi, darling” Harry rasped back. Just the sound of that deep, fucking hot voice of his made you have to bite down on your fist to stop yourself from screaming. And god the way he called you darling made you have to squeeze your thighs together. “It sounds loud where you are, are you out right now?”

“Maybe… why are you interested in what I’m doing?” you sang, trying to sound sober but failing miserably. 

“Have you been drinking? You’ve got that cute tipsy voice of yours” he laughed, that compliment making your heart beat erratically. Fuckkkk, you just hated how easily he could get you blushing. 

“You didn’t answer my questionnnn” you responded, this time trying to hide your smile. 

But it was easy to hear in your tone. Harry could hear it through the phone and he loved how he still managed to have that sort of effect on you even after all this time. 

Though it wasn’t really that long. Barely five months since you two broke up, and in that time you had slept together more times than he could count. So really, it was like how you two started your relationship in the first place. Friends, to casual lovers, to together for two years. And now it seemed like you were going through that same process again, even if you two were having post-breakup sex merely days after you broke up with him. 

“Just curious, s’all. It never takes three calls for you to pick up. You always answer on the first, so I was a bit worried. Thought you might’ve fallen into a fire or ditch somewhere” he wasn’t worried, he was just teasing you for always succumbing to his charm.

That was one problem in your relationship, something you didn’t mind as friends, but hated in a lover. A big fucking ego. It was something that caused a lot of arguments, and even now it never failed to irk you when he assumed you’d stop everything to just go to him.

He was right. But that didn’t mean you hated that he was right.  

“A fire?” you snorted, running a hand through your hair “Well, I’m all safe and sound. No ditches or fire where I am. So maybe you’re the reason I didn’t pick up”

“Me?” he chuckled and you could hear the ego just in his tone, like he couldn’t believe you wouldn’t want to talk to him. “No need to lie y/n… you always want to talk to me. Just like I always want to talk to you”

“If that were true you would’ve called me three months ago instead of ghosting me… besides, I’m busy with…” you couldn’t remember the guy’s name. That boring guy who kissed horribly and cared more about stocks than the fact that your areolas were practically spilling out the top of your dress. It started with a J… a J.

Red flag there already.

“I’m sorry y/n-” he sighed. But you didn’t want to hear his excuses. They were never good, or valid. They didn’t make up for any of his shitty behaviour. 

Usually, after you slept together Harry was texting or calling you that same week, seeing how you were and how you two should ‘catch up’. This was definitely the longest period of time before one of you attempted contact so you were actually quite curious what his excuse could be. Still, you had resisted reaching out first for months so you didn’t want to give in so easily. 

“Jake!” you settled on, knowing it was wrong but not caring at all. It made no difference what the name was, as long as it interrupted his poor excuse and was a male name you knew it would irk him. “I’m busy with Jake right now so I really have to go.”

“Oh… that’s too bad” he sighed a little too dramatically for your liking, acting like it didn’t bother him. “I’m all alone tonight and could really use some company if Jake wouldn’t mind. I’m sure he’d be understanding if you told him you needed to help out a friend in need.” 

Unfortunately for you, Harry was a bullshit reader. He knew you were single and knew Jake was some made-up guy, or if he was real, someone you didn’t care about. Harry also knew that at the end of the day, you just couldn’t resist him.

But he could tell you didn’t want to hear whatever he had to say. You usually heard him out and then told him he was being ridiculous or a liar, but this time you didn’t even want to play that game. It was clear you really were irritated this time, something Harry wanted to make up for. 

“I think you should call another friend. Bye Harry.” You hung up before you could be swayed by his sweet talk and convinced to jump in an Uber to his apartment. 

Now Harry really knew you were pissed off with him.

Within 30 seconds he sent through a text with what seemed to be his new address. You attempted to ignore that one too, but you just couldn’t help yourself. You found yourself copying the address into maps to see how far it was. Only 15 minutes. 

Then, you even went as far as seeing how much the Uber would cost to get there. It wasn’t too expensive, but you knew it would be if you left it any later. 

God… this was a bad idea, right? 

Harry was cocky and egotistical, but he was also sweet and an utter romantic. That’s why you always found yourself going back to him. Paired with his cocky attitude was a soulful, gorgeous man, both inside and out who gave you some of the best memories and continued to do so even now.

H: So… am I seeing you tonight? 

H: I’ve got that brie you like

Ugh, and he had brie? 

You wanted to ignore the text, you really did. But as quickly as you shut him down, you were already booking the Uber and heading to the cloakroom to get your jacket.

Because really, who could say no to brie and good dick?

You: Do you have those crackers I like?

Harry really did know how to spoil you… unfortunately. Maybe if he was less attractive you could ignore his charms and brie. But he was a fine specimen and you doubted you’d ever see a man as attractive as him again. 

“Y/n! There you are, we’ve been looking for you” Casey yelled, using your arm to pull you closer as you made your way into the circle your group had formed. You couldn’t just leave them without giving some explanation, especially since you all arrived together and planned to go home together. 

“Sorry! I was with Jack… but I’m actually gonna go home now” you smiled apologetically, but really you were just itching to get out of here and go see Harry. 

“Nooo, why!? Please stay” Grace whined, hanging off you like a dead weight. 

“I’m sorry. It’s just getting so late and I’m so tired. I’ve got work tomorrow, remember? I’m honestly craving…” Harry’s text in response to yours made your response stutter as you couldn’t resist reading the message quickly and smiling.  

H: I’m not an amateur, darling. I even have that chutney you like H: And a bottle of your favourite pinot 

You were quick to turn your phone back off though, and finish off your sentence “...sleep” You yelled back. But your friends were eyeing you suspiciously like they knew Harry was texting you and that you wouldn’t be sleeping in your own bed tonight.

“Oh my god are you going to see Harry!?” Casey exclaimed, slapping your arm like she was scolding you. 

“y/n! You can’t. He’s such a dick” Grace scolded, her voice a loud yell and slightly slurred. While you and Harry’s friendship groups crossed a lot, your close girlfriends weren’t the biggest fans of his. 

“I’m not seeing him!” you defended, “I haven’t heard from him in months. Since I made that mistake last time, remember?” 

You quickly unlocked your phone to check on your Uber this time and found that he was already outside the bar and waiting for you. “Look, I have to go. But I’m going home to sleep, promise.” You looked right at Casey, hoping she’d believe your poor lying. You never were a good liar. 

“Fine! But text us when you get home” Casey gave you a warning glare and you were quick to hug her and the rest of the girls goodbye before you were out the front entrance and heading to your Uber. 

You: On my way

//

“Hi” Harry smiled, already leaning on his door frame as he watched you approach his second-floor apartment. It was a lot nicer than his last one, or your last one more like it since it was the apartment you two shared before you moved out. 

“Hi…” you breathed, your mind turning into mush like every other time you saw his gorgeous face. You had sobered up significantly now, which was a blessing since just seeing Harry made you want to rip your clothes off. And hit him. 

His long hair hung in ringlets down his shoulder and the way his slightly see-through button down showed off his tattoo-covered chest was making you absolutely feral. And those skinny jeans… he was the only man who could pull it off that’s for sure. 

“I see you’ve had an upgrade. The building is nice” you commented, stopping right in front of him. 

“It is, isn’t it? Would be much nicer if you were in it with me” he charmed, his hands grabbing your hips to pull you closer. You stumbled a little and grabbed his biceps for balance.

Harry always did this. Time and time again he tried to convince you that you two would be better together. Living together and dating like you used to. And while part of you wanted that, desperately, the other knew it was such a terrible idea it would make hell reign on earth if you two started dating again. 

There were just too many problems between you two that you couldn’t seem to fix. 

“You know I don’t like it when you act like this will ever be more than one night” you remarked, sliding your hands up his shoulders to cup his jaw. It tensed under your touch and you loved how something so light could get a reaction like that.

“I know… but I just can’t help myself… always miss my favourite girl” he smirked, leaning in to give you a deep kiss. 

The way he doted on you and said things like that could make any girl beg to get back together. But you were trying to grow as a single woman, as someone independent and without a man. Harry also still had that massive ego problem, which so far hasn’t been fixed.

You sighed into his mouth and allowed your hands to move further up into his hair, threading right at the nape of his neck. Now this… this was a kiss. 

It was only enough to leave you breathless before he pulled away. “You look breathtaking, by the way. This… this is incredible” he breathed, tugging at the hem of your short dress. 

“I know” you grinned, making him laugh loudly. “Now I’m pretty sure I was promised brie and Pinot.” You patted his chest and slid past him, ensuring your body brushed against his. 

Harry had to resist jumping you when you did that. He never could resist you. Even when you two fought and you pissed him off, he still wanted to ravage you. He found you so fucking sexy and the way you always handled his attitude problem and threw it back in his face like it was a game turned him on more than anything. 

You could call him self-absorbed and egotistical then five minutes later be on your knees before him or head down, ass up on the bed. You gave him equal pushback and submission and he ate it up like he needed you to survive. 

He did. 

But you two were a classic case of right person wrong time, or, boyfriend with an attitude problem, sick of it girlfriend. Harry knew he had to work on it, it was something he had been actively working on the last 5 months you two had been broken up. 

Though it didn’t help when every time he was around you, he had this urge to piss you off and get you all sexy and angry. It also didn’t help that he was a dickhead who decided to ghost you after you two hooked up last time. 

Maybe he did that because he wanted to grow as a person for you and to do that he had to be away from you. That’s the reason he would’ve given you if you asked, but it was clear you didn’t want to hear an explanation from him. 

“Wow, this place really is nice” you gawked, looking around the modern apartment that was a lot nicer than the last. He had his vintage touches throughout, softening and giving personality to the clean modern bones. You loved it. 

It was very Harry. 

“Thank you…. I’ve been collecting vintage pieces for a couple months now.” Harry closed the door behind him and watched you look around his open-planned living room. 

The apartment was cozy and on the smaller size, but perfect for one person… or two. There was even a spare bedroom. It was one he currently had as a music room but imagined you turning into a work-from-home space or a closet or anything. Anything that was yours.

“Would you like a tour?” he offered, but you were quick to shake your head.

“Maybe another time. But I think I’d like that glass of pinot now…” You smiled coyly and made eye contact with him as you unzipped your jacket and slid it off your shoulders, dumping it and your bag on his couch.

His eyes darkened at your newly exposed skin, all shoulders and collarbones and cleavage so fucking delicious looking he wanted to eat you alive. Your dress was barely holding your breasts and the deep v neckline only pushed them up further.

Fuck did you look fantastic. 

“Have a seat then, darling” he patted the top of his couch on his way to his kitchen where he walked around the island bench to get the bottle of pino from the fridge. 

You weren’t really hungry for brie anymore. Sure, it was one of the motivators to get you here. But now that you were here, your hunger was for something more… substantial… manly. 

You gladly sat down on the couch and then undid your heels from your night out. You were quick to make yourself comfortable on the new and very plush couch of his, sitting with your back against the armrest and your legs crossed with a pillow in your lap so you weren’t entirely exposed to him. 

You were facing Harry, and with how you were sitting your little underwear was completely exposed to him without the pillow there. That wasn’t something you wanted… yet. 

“I see you’re making yourself at home then?” He raised a brow and ran his tongue over his bottom lip as he unscrewed the cap from the bottle and eyed your body. He went up your legs from your ankles right to your upper thighs which were all exposed due to how short your dress was. 

The pillow was blocking what he really wanted to see and he just wanted to make it disappear so he could wedge himself between your legs and feast on your pretty pussy. God, he could almost taste you. Could almost smell your arousal from his position all the way in the kitchen. 

Harry hoped you’d let him taste you tonight. He was hoping that the Brie he had in his fridge just for you would get him in your good books. Though, considering how food-motivated you were, you hadn’t asked for it yet. 

“Well, how can I not when this couch is so nice?” You ran your hand over the back of the couch, feeling its soft, almost velvety material. “Is all this thanks to your new job?”

Harry shrugged and walked to you with the glasses of Pinot in hand. “I quit that, actually. It wasn’t for me.”

“Oh really?-thanks” You thanked him when he passed you a glass and sat down opposite you on the couch, his back against the opposite armrest so he was facing you. “So what are you doing now?” You sipped your wine, curious what job could afford a nice apartment like this. 

“Music actually. One of my college buddies, remember Niall?” You nodded, remembering the hilarious Irishman you really did enjoy spending time with. You got along with his girlfriend really well too, but since he was more Harry’s friend than yours, it was a friendship you kind of lost during the breakup. “Well he released his first album and it did super well.” You nodded again, sipping your wine. 

“I heard it, it’s great!”

He nodded with a smile and ran a hand through his hair, “I know. I helped him write a bunch of the songs on it. I did some backing vocals and played the bass for it too.” He said it so casually like it didn’t matter. But you knew it was a big deal, even if Harry was downplaying it. 

“Oh wow Harry, that’s so amazing! It’s what you’ve always wanted to do.” you genuinely were happy for him. 

Harry was a very talented singer and musician in general, he just never did anything with it. While Harry had a giant ego, his musical talent was the one thing he lacked confidence in. It was the one thing he didn’t like to boast or show off. But you knew he was a very talented guy, and you had been encouraging him to do something with it for years. 

“Thank you… I even, well…” he trailed off, looking away with a bit of nerves. You watched him curiously, putting your wine glass down on the coffee table so your full attention was on him. “I started recording my own song” he looked back at you. “Finished it actually. When I had the rough demo done Niall got me into contact with some producers and they ended up loving it. It’s finished now and we’re sorting out a contract and release date.” 

“Wow Harry. Really, I am just so proud of you. Really, really proud” you beamed, feeling so genuinely full of love and happiness for him. There was never the question of whether you were still in love with him. You were, and you’d never stop. 

“Thank you” he replied earnestly, looking right into your eyes. 

The eye contact was so full of heat and intensity it was almost too much for you. But it wasn’t a sensual heat, although you did know that he wanted to fuck you. No… it was more a deep care. Love even. And you knew it was bad, to want him to love you back when you two could never seem to get past your issues. 

But you wanted him to. Doesn’t everyone want to be loved by the person they love? 

“You don’t have to thank me, you deserve to be happy Harry. So… can I hear it? Or am I not allowed to ask that?” You couldn’t help but be curious about the song. Was it about you? 

You didn’t want to seem self-centred, because Harry had a very interesting life and there was so much he could write music about. But your relationship was a very complicated one, and if you had any musical talent it was definitely something you’d want to write about. 

There was a moment of silence before Harry nodded and put his wine down on the coffee table. He stood up and held his hand out, “Come on.”

You let him pull you up from the couch then lead you to his music room, hands still intertwined the entire way. Just the feeling of his hand in yours sent shivers through your arm and up to your chest. It was like it zapped your heart and sent it on a sprint. 

The music room was as professional as it could be in Harry’s office. His guitars were displayed on one wall and he had a little makeshift sound booth in one corner. It wasn’t a separate room or anything, just a hanging microphone with a sound barrier to amplify any noise. It wasn’t a room capable enough to do a song start to finish, but you could easily see a demo being done, or other editing. 

There was a desk with computer equipment and a couch as well. Some of this stuff he had when you two were together, like some of the guitars and his computer setup as he used to use it for work. But a lot of it was new, and you could just see how much calm and joy he got in this room just by standing in it. 

“This space is great Harry” you complimented, stepping further into the room. 

“It’s become my safe space, you could say” Harry replied softly, walking over to his computer and setting something up. You looked around the room as you waited, unsure what to expect as his debut song.  

“Come here” he motioned you over and you were quick to walk to him. “Press the spacebar when you’re ready.” Then he took some steps back to allow you to play the song. 

You clicked the button with a bit of nerves and when the first few chords played your whole body went tense in anticipation. It had a rockier vibe and you liked it. It was like the backing track to Harry’s rockstar qualities and look. 

“What’s it called?” You asked before any lyrics started. 

“Talk.” 

You made eye contact with him through the blackened monitor to the left of the computer you were on. His reflection was easily seen through the screen and you could see his expression. He was nervous. 

When the first few lyrics started you found yourself bopping along. It was good, amazing really and his voice was just so hot and raspy. That was the first thing you picked up on really, how fucking hot he sounded. And it was catchy too. You knew it would do well and you could see yourself screaming it in the car.  

But as you started to really listen to the lyrics, you could hear the correlation to your relationship. How you were sick and tired of him, how you two fought, the many arguments you had that just couldn’t be fixed with talking. There were times you just didn’t want to talk at all, or you didn’t want to hear him out. 

You sometimes added to your problems just as much as Harry created them. You were at fault as well, you couldn’t blame him entirely for your relationship’s downfall. 

Love is what you want, love’s a broken bone. 

That line there had you gasping a little. Because it was your relationship to a T. You had so much love for each other, yet it hurt and wounded you all at the same time. 

“That was… wow, that was amazing Harry.” You swallowed the lump in your throat and sighed before speaking again. “We never were good at talking, were we?” you breathed, looking at him through the slight reflection of the monitor. You didn’t say a single word until the song was over and neither did Harry. He shook his head.

“No. I wasn’t very good at taking criticism.”

You spun around to face him, noticing that he was much closer than you thought he was. With only two steps he’d be right against you, close enough for your bodies to touch and his body heat to radiate against yours. 

“And I wasn’t good at listening.” You admitted. He smiled softly and crossed the distance, raising his hand to graze his knuckles against your cheek. Your hands found his shirt instantly, fisting it like you were scared he’d suddenly disappear right in front of you. 

“That’s because I was-am an egotistical asshole who drove you crazy. I wouldn’t listen to me either” his breath fanned against your face and the slight tinge of wine in his otherwise minty breath was making you a little crazy. He just smelt so yummy and he was so close to you that ‘ahh’ feeling was clouding your brain again.

“Well… I won’t disagree with that” you joked. His mouth quirked in a smile as his knuckles followed the curve of your cheek until he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. It had your breath hitching and smooth delicious arousal starting to creep up your spine. It was swirling all through your body until your clit was aching. 

It was hard not to get like that when he looked so good and smelt so nice and had that dark horny look in his eyes that told you he just wanted to ravage you. And fuck was Harry good at ravaging. 

Your relationship was like this. One second you could be fighting or talking about something important and within seconds those heightened emotions turned into arousal and need for each other. There was a reason you just couldn’t stay away from his cock. 

“But I also loved the crazy” you whispered, moving your hands up his shirt until you were fiddling with his collar. “And I think we had a good method of dealing with it… We might not be good at talking, but we’re certainly good at… communicating”

You pronounced ‘communicating’ with just the right suggestive tone that told Harry exactly what you meant. You two weren’t good at talking. But you were good at screaming and you were good at fucking. 

And just like Harry’s song, you didn’t want to talk it out. 

“We are, aren’t we?” he smirked. So with that, all hell broke loose.

His mouth came crashing down on yours and his hands were on your ass fast. He grabbed your ass and hips and anywhere he could, feeling your body like he was trying to memorise it before he was picking you up and placing you on his desk. 

You were trying to match the way his mouth moved while unbuttoning his shirt all at the same time. While you did that, he was pushing your legs apart so he could step between them and push the skirt of your dress up around your hips. 

Kissing him was getting you riled up fast. His smell, deep and vanillary, a hint of spice like he was trying to smell edible on purpose. And his heat, the feeling of his body pressed to yours. All hard and toned muscles, but also soft like he was trying to fuse your bodies together. It was all driving you fucking crazy.

There was something about the way he moved his mouth and body that got you so beyond turned on you could barely contain yourself too. When Harry kissed he didn't just use his mouth, he used his entire body. He grabbed at you and caressed you and the way he moaned in your mouth like he missed you made you crave him like nothing else. 

Harry liked to use tongue too, and today was no different. While he tugged at your hair and palmed at your breast, his tongue was tracing the seam of your mouth and trying to get in to dominate you. That wasn’t hard, not when you liked to be dominated. 

You managed to get his shirt unbuttoned and could now claw at his bare skin, which only made him kiss you harder and groan because he loved the bite of pain your nails marked in his skin. And when you shoved his shirt off and dropped it to the floor, you were able to explore his shoulders and arms too. God did you love his arms.

What you loved even more though… was his v-line. Your tongue loved the feeling of those deep ridges, slightly rounded and perfect and of course, leading to your second favourite part of his body. His pretty face was your favourite, his eyes the highlight of his beautiful face. But his cock was second.

Pretty and long and ugh. Everything down to the way he trimmed his pubic hair turned you on. Dick’s didn’t usually turn you on, at least visually. You didn’t see a penis and get wet… but with Harry’s. He genuinely just had a pretty cock and when it was attached to such a gorgeous and talented man… just the thought of it could get you wet. 

So there was no wonder that after a bit of kissing, you were absolutely soaked. 

His fingers met the crotch of your underwear and he groaned at how wet the fabric was. “God baby, already so wet f’me, hmm?” he rasped, sliding his hand through the hair at the nape of your neck and tugging your head back while he started rubbing circles against your clit through the thin layer.

It had you breathing out a moan and scratching your nails against his pecs. “Always, I hate it”

“I don’t” he rumbled a groan against your neck, his mouth now trailing down to reach your breasts. He started rubbing little circles against your clit, applying delicious pleasure that had you gasping for more. “I adore how soaked you get f’me. How hot and fucking tight you squeeze around me when I fuck you. Just a pretty little angel”

He tugged down the top of your dress before he pushed your flimsy underwear to the side and traced your crease softly. His mouth found your nipple and nipped at it, making you squirm, both to get away from the pain but also closer to his teasing on your pussy. 

“Don’t tease. I hate when you do that.” 

“Just makes it more fun for me, doesn’t it” he chuckled, finally dipping his fingers into your folds and tracing up and down from your clit to your entrance where he pressed right against it. 

You weren’t one to give in so easily though, or let him get away with being so annoying. So you were quick to grab his cock through his pants and squeeze, palming him hard enough to get him hissing and bucking his hips. Unfortunately, Harry wasn’t so easy to tease. “Don’t be greedy” he tutted, slapping your hand away with the one he had in your hair.

“You’re such a sadistic-fuck” you cursed when he pressed harder against your clit, rubbing slow but delicious circles that felt so good but just nowhere near enough what you needed. “A-asshole, you’re a sadistic asshole” you stuttered, sliding your hand in his hair and tugging when he switched to your other breast and started nipping at that one. 

“Why? Because I like to tease? That’s not being sadistic, darling.” He kissed upwards until he was at your jaw, nipping his way to your lips where he kissed you deeply. 

At the same time, his fingers moved down from your clit to your entrance where he easily slid two into you. It was a bit of a stretch but it felt incredible. He found your g-spot easily, hooking his fingers there and stimulating it while grinding the heel of his hand against your clit. 

Harry pulled your hair harder, wrapping it around his fist so you were forced to look at him. He brushed his lips against yours and smirked at how you panted a moan into it. Fuck did he love that breathy moan of yours. 

It was hard to push your hand away from his cock before, especially when he was so damn hard and sore in his jeans he just needed to be inside you. But first, he needed to taste you. 

“If I were being sadistic I’d spank you for your attitude and fuck you ‘till you’re crying. And I’d enjoy every second of it.” 

You moaned filthily at his words, and his only made him chuckle mockingly and bite down on your bottom lip. “I know you’d like that though. You like when I fuck out all my anger, when I’m a little mean to you… when it hurts. Don’t you, baby?” 

He let go of your head with a little push and it automatically tipped back as your hips ground to meet his hand in return. One of your hands gripped the edge of the desk while the other remained in his long hair and followed his head as he slowly got down on his knees before you. 

“Uhuh” you nodded, watching as he pulled his fingers from you to use a hair tie on his wrist so he could put his hair up in a bun on the top of his head. It was something he did every time he ate you out, like a ritual so his hair was out of the way. Though, usually by the end of it those long curls of his were out of that bun and all messy from your tugging. 

It was hot. Except now that it was a thing, every time you saw him with his hair in a bun he pavloved your pussy into thinking it was about to get eaten out. It was quite irritating actually. But you’d never tell him that just the sight of his hair up made you wet. 

“But I like anything that keeps your mouth busy. Especially this.” 

He grinned up at you and pulled your underwear off before spreading your legs further apart. You helped him by propping your feet up on the edge of the desk and he was quick to caress down the back of your thighs. 

“And I like-” he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh and you already wanted to scream with how he was looking up at you. “Anything-” he pressed another kiss, this time closer to where you needed him most. “That makes you-” another kiss, this time closer. “Scream my name” 

At the end of his words, his mouth met your pussy. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your clit before he just dove right in. And this time, he didn’t bother teasing. He slid his tongue through your folds, collecting your arousal and moaning like he couldn’t get enough of it. 

Then he was back at your clit and lapping at it in steady wide licks. The pressure had you gasping and grabbing onto the bun on top of his head. You were squirming too, your hips shaking a little because Harry was teasing you and building up the pressure to something firmer and more delicious feeling. 

“Harry” you moaned, scratching your nails against his scalp and firmly tugging at the bun. 

“I know… I know bunny, feels good doesn’t it” he grinned up at you, licking a stripe up your inner thigh before returning to your clit. He flicked against it and you gasped, pulling him closer. 

“Please…” you weren’t sure what you were asking for and you hated begging. But you just wanted more, of something… anything. 

“I got you, I got you” he assured you, puckering his lips around your clit and sucking. 

The second he started doing that you were gone, head tilted back and moaning uncontrollably. He added his fingers back in and curled them perfectly, and he used his entire face to eat you out. 

While Harry could suffocate in your pussy and he’d gladly choose that as his death, especially when you sat on his face, he still needed a breath of air every now and then. But it was barely a break, he’d kiss around his fingers and on your inner thighs while his nose bumped up against your clit. 

He made sure his entire face was covered in your arousal because that’s how he liked it. He liked to eat, sleep and breathe pussy and if he could stay between your legs forever he would. 

“Harry…” you gasped, both hands dug deep in his hair. It was half fallen out now, only a few chunks still remaining in his bun while the rest was in your fingers or cascaded around his shoulders. 

“Yeah? You wanna say something?” He grinned up at you, that build-up of pleasure suddenly disappearing when he broke off your clit. 

You made a noise of disdain and hooked your legs over his shoulders, pulling him closer by his hair. He groaned at the pain that went straight to his cock, making it swell in his pants. Then, he grabbed onto your thighs, digging his fingers into your skin to add that bite of pain he knew you liked. 

That was one thing you two had in common, a pain kink. 

His groan vibrated against your pussy which made you cry out and your head tip back again as you ground against his face. He loved it too. He lapped at your clit and let you take charge, something he rarely liked doing because he was the one who liked to be in control. But he just couldn’t help but find the way you were taking what you wanted so goddamn sexy his cock was pulsing just at the thought of it.

He moaned again in response to the way you took charge, chasing your own pleasure like he was a sex toy rather than a mouth. He wasn’t one to be used like this, but he didn’t care when his face was completely buried in your pussy. Harry fucking loved it and the look of pure ecstasy on your face made him well with pride. His girl being pleasured by him… something he missed dearly over the last couple of months. 

“Harry” you gasped, “I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum…”

His response was muffled, but you could just understand him encouraging you to let go… to give it to him. So you did. It wasn’t long before you were gasping out, screaming his name and tightening your grip on his hair so hard he was cursing against your pussy. 

When you finally let go of his hair he was gasping out, pulling away from you to catch his breath but still lapping against you to draw you through your orgasm. It got too sensitive, which is when you removed your legs from his shoulders and guided him back up by his hair to kiss him. 

“Mmh, thank you” you smiled, kissing him happily and loving the taste of your own arousal on his tongue. 

You pulled the hair elastic out of the small portion it was still holding and threw it on the floor so you could freely run your hands through his hair. He smiled into your mouth and hugged you against him, sliding his hand down the outside of your thigh. 

“Don’t thank me, otherwise I’ll get right back down there and eat you till you’re crying” he teased, tugging on your hair as he bit your bottom lip. 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time” you quipped, jumping down from the desk to guide him backwards towards the couch. 

“I’d give you anything you wanted, you know that right?” He was serious in his reply, but you didn’t really take it seriously and just pushed him down on the couch. 

“I know… that’s what I like about our little arrangement.” You climbed on top of him and ran your hands over his chest, sliding them down to trace his abs with your nails. His breath hitched and you smiled at the reaction, leaning down to lick a stripe through his pecs. 

He didn’t know why your words triggered something in him, but he felt this need to apologise, to explain himself and tell you what he wanted. Here you were, completely naked on top of him except for the little strip your gathered dress around your waist was covering, and getting you back was the top thing in his mind. 

When he looked at you, he saw the love of his life. Even though he knew you didn’t want to hear an explanation and that it was probably a better idea to just do tonight like usual instead of trying to win you back, he couldn’t help himself. 

“Listen… I’m sorry about ghosting you” his voice was rushed, desperate even. 

“I don’t want to talk about that” you replied, moving up to his mouth to kiss him while you worked on unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans to free his cock. That was all you could think about now. You didn’t want to think about anything else.

“I do. It was a big fucking mistake and I’m sorry” he breathed, his head tipping back against the couch as you kissed along his jaw instead. Just like he nipped at yours before, you returned the favour and worked on making a pretty little mark somewhere.

It was a bit juvenile, but you liked seeing your mark on his skin. When you saw each other at social events, a zap of absolute pleasure ran up your spine when you saw a hickey that you made somewhere on his body. Like he was still yours.

Even though you knew that you two weren’t good together, you still liked having some sort of hold on him. You knew it was better to be single, but if you were honest and actually had a hard look at your situation, were you really single? Physically, maybe, sometimes anyway. But emotionally? You were still caught up in Harry’s web.

“It doesn’t matter Harry,” you said haphazardly, trying not to think about it too much while you continued kissing along his neck. His pants were undone now but when you tried to get his cock out, he grabbed your wrists to stop you. 

“It does. I get that you might not care, and that’s something I’ve done and all I can do is try and fix it. But I care. It matters to me.” His eyes showed the desperation he must’ve been feeling, but you were just so suspicious about his intentions. 

However, the fact that he was pausing sex when you were sitting pretty much naked on top of him told you that he was serious and thought it was something important for you two to talk about. 

“Why does it matter to you, Harry?” You breathed, looking between his hands on your wrist and his face. His cheeks were flushed and his lips swollen and his cock was still hard beneath you. “We’re not together anymore and you and I both know that after this, we’ll go back to not talking again until one of us gets lonely. That’s how it’s been for the last five months.”

“It matters because I don’t want that anymore” he gently placed your hands on your knees, turning them to play with your palms. Harry’s eyes never left yours, even if he was struggling to keep eye contact. “I want you. I want us. I don’t want to go back to us just hooking up….” Your entire body froze at his admission. He swallowed the lump in his throat before speaking again. “And I’m not fucking around this time or trying to tease. I’m being serious y/n. I’m still in love with you, I’ve never stopped loving you.” 

That’s all you ever wanted to hear. You just wanted him to say those words back, the same words you had been feeling non-stop since you two broke up. He pissed you off like no one else did, but you were so utterly in love with him you just couldn’t break things off fully in your mind. 

That was why you always gave in to his calls. That was why tonight you still came here despite being upset that he ghosted you and knowing it was a horrible idea. That was why you deluded yourself and convinced yourself you were just friends. But you weren’t. That was a fat lie and you knew it. 

“But that doesn’t change things, Harry. Love…” you swallowed thickly, bottom lip wobbling as you tried to control the tears pricking your eyes. “It isn’t always enough.” You looked away, pulling your hands from his to press your palms to your eyes. 

“I know… I know but that’s why I didn’t contact you after last time.” Harry pulled your hands from your eyes and intertwined them with his so you couldn’t pull them away again. The earnest look on his face had your heart beating erratically, and you desperately wanted to believe everything he was saying. “I should’ve called you and explained and I regret not doing that… I just realised that I needed to work on myself and I have. I started taking therapy more seriously and I… I did a lot of self-reflection. I’m writing and working out and all the things that have helped me get better… for you.” He reached up and ran his thumb under your eye, drying away the tear that spilled out. “I still have work to do and I’m not claiming to be perfect or that I won’t make mistakes again, but I want to try and be better for you. Give me another chance y/n. Please.”

Through Harry’s faults and your own, there was one thing that he wasn’t. A liar. He was an honest person and if he just ghosted you because he regretted sleeping with you, he would’ve said that. He wouldn’t lie about working on himself, because he wasn’t a manipulative person. He wouldn’t try and mislead you so you’d get back together with him. 

God and you loved him. You loved him so damn hard it hurt your soul to be away from him. In the five months you had been broken up, you didn’t actually try and get back together, not once. He mentioned it and you shut him down, thinking back to the many times during your relationship you tried to mend things after a fight.

But it had been five months. And even though you were still sleeping together, which probably wasn’t helping the situation, you felt different. You could tell Harry was different too. 

At the beginning of tonight, you were so set on not wanting to get back with him and wanting to resist his charm. But he wasn’t using charm to try and get you back, he was using honesty. And when you used honesty, you realised that you were too in love with him to let him go.

If you love someone, set them free; if they come back to you, it’s meant to be. That had to be true, right? 

You stayed silent for a little while and you could see the fear in his eyes. He opened his mouth to talk again but you beat him to it, not wanting him to retract any words or give you a way out. 

“I want to be better for you too, Harry,” you said softly, almost scared to admit it out loud. “I love you.” 

It was all you needed to say in the moment. You could talk later and figure out what this all meant. But for now, he was still hard and you were still wet and you needed him. 

His eyes flashed with heat then he was cupping your face and drawing you back in for a passionate kiss. “I love you. I love you so fucking much, y/n” he groaned, grabbing the edge of your dress to pull it upwards and off your body so you were now fully naked on top of him. 

It wasn’t covering much before, but now he could see the full expanse of your torso and it made him realise how fucking much he missed you. Your breasts and your stomach, the curve of your hips and down your thighs where you were sat on top of him. 

“I love you” you replied, happy to finally let the words release from your tongue. 

“I love you” Harry repeated again, just needing you to know it like he hadn’t already said it. He pulled you closer again and with a little coordination from both of you, you managed to get his jeans and underwear off and on the floor. 

Now you were both bare, just like your souls were. And now that you both knew how you felt about each other, your emotions were fuelling passion into your physical connection. There always was passion when you two had sex, even in the ones after your breakup. But now your love was flowing through it too. 

“We need to talk about this” you reminded, serious and looking dead in his eyes. 

“I know, and we will. But not now” he kissed you deeply, “Now it’s just us. You and me, like this…  so put me in baby, put me in.” Harry held you close, running his hands down the expanse of your back and grabbing onto your ass and hips. 

You nodded and wrapped your hand around his cock, lifting up on your knees before guiding his tip to your entrance. “Fuck… you’re so goddamn wet” he cursed at the feeling of his cock through your wet folds, your warmth and slickness making his head spin and he wasn’t even in you yet. 

When you dropped your hips and his tip first entered you, you both gasped and whimpered into each other's mouths. The first thrust was always the best. It was so full and the stretch of his cock inside you couldn’t compare to anything else. 

“I love you Harry… always have, and always will” you gasped into his mouth, arms wrapped around his neck and moaning as your hips connected to his and he was fully sheathed inside you. The pressure of his cock so deep inside you had you quivering on top of him, like you couldn’t control your body’s reaction to how he stretched you out. 

“God do I love you… y’feel so fucking good baby” he moaned, grabbing your ass to start to grind your hips back and forth. You whimpered loudly into his mouth and followed his movements, grinding your hips in line with how he was moving you. 

Harry just filled you up so good. He was just perfect for your body in every way. It also helped that he just knew what you liked. After sleeping together for nearly three years now, you were both pretty in tune with each other's bodies and what got you off. 

Once you were adjusted, you were quick to start bouncing on him. He kept his hands on your ass and squeezed and kneaded, spanking it every now and then to make that pretty yelp of yours echo around the room. It was a sound Harry wanted to record and use in one of his songs, a background noise just loud enough to hear but not correlate with an actual moan. Just for you and him. 

“Being such a good fucking girl, y/n. Ride me so well” he praised, kissing and dragging his teeth down your neck until he captured your nipple in his mouth. He bit down roughly, making you cry out and move a little faster over him. 

The pleasure was dizzying. Between his cock hitting your g-spot, his hands grabbing your ass and spanking you and the way his mouth was working on your breasts… you were in absolute heaven. Your pussy was already sensitive from your first orgasm, and now barely a couple of minutes with him inside you, you were ready for your second. 

But something was missing. 

“Please Harry… would you…” you couldn’t even finish the sentence, not when your fingers connected to your clit to bring the extra pleasure you needed to finish. 

But that wasn’t it. 

Your other hand drifted up, sliding between your breasts to your neck where it touched briefly before returning to Harry’s hair. It was out and unruly now, sweaty already from the sheer heat emitting from your bodies. 

From that little subtle touch on your neck, Harry knew exactly what you needed. But he wouldn’t give it to you that easily. He wanted your words. Wanted to hear you beg for it. 

He supported your back and was quick to stand up. You clung onto him but it didn’t last long before he had your back on the couch and was kneeling between your legs. He grabbed onto the back of your knees and press your legs to your chest, using that leverage to start fucking into you. 

It was steady, but hard and it had you gasping and reaching behind you to grab onto the couch for some sort of grounding. Anything to release the built-up pressure in your body. 

“What do you want, huh? You can use your big girl words, can't you, bunny?” He mocked, letting go of one of your legs to grab onto your breast and give it a firm squeeze. You gasped and arched your back into his hands, wrapping a leg around his hips to pull him closer to you. 

“You know what I want, Harry… don’t you want to give the love of your life what she wants?” You gasped, teasing him as you clenched around him with purpose. 

His thrusts faulted momentarily and you could see his jaw clench at the way you were challenging him, as well as the blinding pleasure that wrecked his body at the sudden tightness that surrounded his cock. 

“Only when she asks nicely” he slid his hand from your breast up to your neck, teasing you like he was about to wrap it around but instead going straight past and to the couch beside your head. He propped himself up and dipped down, capturing your mouth with his as he started thrusting faster this time. 

It was hard to think straight when he fucked you like this. With his chest brushing against yours and your nails clawing at his back… your mouths connected, but not really because you just couldn’t stop moaning. It was a connection like no other. Just skin on skin in your favourite way. 

His thrusts were bruising, hard and punishing. So punishing you couldn’t do anything but cry out for him. You were loud and uncoordinated, and you were barely able to get out your plea for what you really needed.

“Please… please choke me” you gave in, just like you always did. 

Harry grinned against your mouth, “Good girl”. 

With a final peck, he sat back on his haunches, pulling your legs over his thighs and wrapping his hand firmly around your neck. He squeezed it in just the right way, firm and in the correct spots on either side of your esophagus to send that woozy feeling straight to your brain. 

Then he was back to thrusting again and back to making you quiver and writhe beneath him, like you were addicted to the way his cock felt inside you. Truthfully... you were.

“Yes… yes, fuck!… Just fuck me, Harry. Please… h-harder!” you wanted it to hurt, to feel his love on you days later. You wanted to feel his cock still deep in your womb days later, like it was still there stretching you out and making you cum. 

“You take me so fucking well, bunny. Your pussy just feels so good wrapped around me… all mine isn’t it? It’s all fucking mine” he fucked you harder, the couch banging against the wall from how fast his hips were snapping into yours. 

It was just so overwhelming too. With every thrust your body spasmed and you screamed, unable to keep quiet due to how good he was fucking you. It hurt, but it hurt in the best way. Like scratching sunburn or pressing down on a cut, an addictive pain that you didn’t want to stop in some sort of fucked up way. 

Satisfying and dizzying all at once. 

“Uhuh” you nodded, borderline passed out and just taking what he gave you. 

He was obsessed with how fucked out you looked, like you went completely braindead. Your eyes were screwed shut and your mouth was gaped, just enough to let out your moans and cries of ecstasy. 

Harry could cum just off that look alone, and he almost did but you weren’t quite there yet. Despite being sensitive after one orgasm, it always took a little longer for you to reach your second, which was something he learned pretty quickly when you two first got together. 

So he dipped his fingers right where his cock was pummelling into you and collected your arousal before dragging it upwards to use it as lube to rub your clit. Everything was just so wet and slippery and Harry couldn’t get enough of it. Your inner thighs were soaked and his cock was covered in your cream. It had dripped down and coated his balls from when you rode him, and the sight of it all covered in you was making his head spin. 

He fucking loved it. 

And it wasn’t long for you to start squeezing around him, for your pussy to flutter and your body to jerk in the beginning signs of your orgasm. Your back arched and before you could warn him your vision went black and you were crying out his name. Your fingers found his forearms, digging into them until little crescent marks seemed to tattoo themselves on his skin.

His thrusts stuttered and his body jerked as he came shortly after, finally letting himself release the orgasm he had been holding onto for a little while now. 

Harry collapsed on top of you and dug his head in your neck. You sighed at the contact and wrapped yourself around him, a little shaky and utterly exhausted, but happy. 

For the first time in five months, you were happy. Genuinely happy. 

“I missed that” Harry spoke up first, nuzzling into your neck before pressing a kiss against your sweaty skin. 

“I missed that too, I missed you” you replied softly, running your fingers through his hair. 

“Are we really going to do this? Get back together?” He asked after a bit more comfortable silence, shifting a little so he could rest his chin against your sternum and look at you. 

“It’s probably a bad idea, right?” You kept playing with his hair, circling a curl around your finger mindlessly. 

“Probably…” he sighed, pressing the side of his face to your chest and not saying anything else. 

“I don’t care though” you spoke up again, causing him to turn his head and look at you. “I love you and I want to be with you. I want us to try again.” 

He smiled longingly and propped himself up so he was hovered over you. His shift had his cock moving inside you and you winced a little uncomfortably at the ache already growing there. But you loved it. It was exactly what you wanted. 

“We’re gonna make it work, I promise.” He looked at you honestly and spoke with full conviction. You smiled up at him and kissed him gently, tugging at his cross necklace. 

“I love you” 

━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━ ━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━

Tag List: @tiredinwinter @cthwildflwr @justlemmeadoreyou @gurugirl @a-strange-familiar @hislcstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @littlenatilda @tbsloneely @butdaddyilovehim-hs @itsgigikay @femmefleur @groovychaosavenue @lolyouallsuck @swag13r @alyssarbaer @idrawshapesonpeople07 @straightontilmornin @lillefroe @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @freedomfireflies @lovebittenbyevans @itjustkindahappenedreally @reputationolivia

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[vanteguccir]

Writers' recommendation from vante ♡

As asked by an anon, I did a short list of my favorite writers on tumblr, who write for the Sturniolo Triplets and Harry Styles fandom, since it's the ones that I most consume in here 🩷

PS.: I didn't separate specific fics that I like because I absolutely adore all fics from the writers I've listed below, and I highly recommend all of them!! 😚 but if yall want specific fics, I can always do it as well!!

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

~ Sturniolo Triplets:

- @worldlxvlys

- @ciarasturn1

- @chaosisalwayscrying

- @soursturniolo

- @scarssturniolo

- @thugpugs4lrh

- @patscorner

- @strniohoeee

- @greatooglymooglyyy

- @strawberrysturniolo

- @evieolo

- @muwapsturniolo

- @55sturn

- @rootbeerworshiper

~ Harry Styles:

- @erodasfishtacos (my protegé 😭)

- @fkinavocado

- @satanhalsey

- @meetmymouth

- @watchmegetobsessed

- @finelinevogue

- @freedomfireflies

- @havethetimeofyourstyles

- @avatar-anna

- @harrysfolklore

- @moonchildstyles

- @lukesaprince

- @stylesharrys

- @signoferoda

- @watermelonsugacry

the HS fandom here on tumblr has the best writers on this whole app. they should be writing books at this point, I swear 😭✋🏻

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

Hold My Hand

Where y/n is scared of flying and the stranger in the seat next to her offers some help.

Word Count: 1,993

Warnings: Planes, Anxiety

JFK was a whirlwind of noise and motion, a blur of tired travelers, rolling suitcases, and endless overhead announcements crackling through the speakers. Y/N tightened her grip on the handle of her suitcase, her pulse thrumming beneath her skin. She hated this part. Airports always made her anxious—too many moving parts, too many chances for something to go wrong. And flying? That was even worse.

She exhaled slowly, adjusting the strap of her bag as she inched forward in the check-in line. It was just a flight. Just a few hours in the air. And then she’d be in Italy, far away from everything she’d been trying to escape.

Her friend had insisted she come, practically begging her to book the ticket.

“You need this, love. Just get on the plane.”

Easier said than done.

She reached the counter, handed over her passport with slightly shaky fingers, and forced a polite smile as the agent processed her check-in. A few minutes later, she had her boarding pass in hand and one less thing to worry about. But the tightness in her chest didn’t ease.

A familiar, comforting scent drifted through the air—coffee. Warm, rich, slightly burnt in the way only airport coffee could be. She turned toward the kiosk tucked near the terminal entrance, weaving through the crowd, her suitcase rolling behind her.

A hot drink would help. Something to ground her.

After ordering, she wrapped her hands around the paper cup, letting the heat seep into her palms. She took a careful sip, the bitter taste settling her, just a little.

Y/N settled into a chair near her gate, her coffee resting on the seat beside her. The caffeine wasn’t doing much to settle her nerves, but at least the warmth in her hands gave her something to focus on. She sighed, setting her suitcase between her feet before digging through her bag, fingers fumbling past tangled headphones and crumpled receipts until she found what she was looking for, her medication.

She popped the cap off the small bottle of anti-nausea pills first, dry-swallowing one before reaching for her anxiety meds. Flying always made her feel sick, and the anxiety only made it worse. She wasn’t taking any chances today.

The terminal buzzed around her business travelers typing furiously on laptops, families wrangling restless children, couples leaning into quiet conversations. It was a world in motion, but Y/N felt stuck, waiting.

She glanced up at the departures board. Still time before boarding. She had no intention of rushing to get on the plane. She never did. The sooner she boarded, the longer she’d have to sit in that cramped space, feeling every bit of turbulence, every shift in altitude. Instead, she’d wait until the final group, boarding only when she absolutely had to.

She took another sip of her coffee, exhaling slowly. Just a few more minutes. Then she’d be in the air on her way to Italy. 

Y/N pulled out her phone, her fingers hesitating over the screen before she finally typed out a message.

“At the airport, waiting to board.”

She paused, then added, “Trying not to freak out.”

The message sent, and she took another sip of her coffee, tapping her fingers against the cup while she waited for a response. It didn’t take long.

“You’re doing great. It’s going to be okay. Just think about how good it’ll feel when you land. I’ll be waiting for you!”

She let out a slow breath, some of the tightness in her chest easing. Her friend always knew what to say, always had a way of grounding her even from miles away.

“I hope so,” she typed back before locking her phone and setting it in her lap.

One step at a time.

The final boarding group was announced, and Y/N let out a quiet sigh before standing, gripping the handle of her suitcase. This was the part she hated most walking onto the plane, finding her seat, and forcing herself to settle in for the long flight ahead. She rolled her luggage behind her, moving through the jet bridge, the artificial air-conditioning doing little to cool the anxious heat creeping up her spine.

When she stepped onto the plane, she was met with the usual cramped rows and the hum of quiet conversations. It was full, every overhead bin seemingly packed to capacity, every seat occupied. She checked her boarding pass again, even though she already knew where she was going, middle of the plane, window seat.

As she made her way down the aisle, dodging stray elbows and outstretched legs, her stomach twisted. Long-haul flights were bad enough, but sitting next to a stranger for hours on end only made her more uneasy.

She finally reached her row and glanced at the seat beside hers, her breath catching for a moment.

A man sat there, his posture relaxed, one hand resting on his thigh while the other scrolled idly through his phone. Brown curls fell slightly over his forehead, and tattoos peeked out from beneath the sleeves of his sweater. He was dressed casually, a soft knit fabric over jeans but there was something familiar about him.

As soon as she stopped beside the row, the man looked up from his phone and, without hesitation, stood from his seat.

“Need help with that?” he asked, gesturing toward her carry-on.

Y/N hesitated for only a second before nodding. “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.”

He took the bag from her with ease, lifting it into the overhead compartment and securing it before stepping back, giving her space to settle in. As she reached for her seatbelt, he spoke again.

“Do you want the aisle seat instead?” His voice was calm, casual. “I don’t mind switching.”

She glanced at him, caught off guard by the offer.

“I just figured,” he continued, “if you prefer it, I’m happy to swap.”

Her fingers tightened around the armrest for a second before she finally admitted, “Flying makes me nervous. Maybe sitting in the aisle would be better.”

He nodded without hesitation. “Yeah, of course.”

Without another word, he stepped aside, letting her slide into the aisle seat before taking the window for himself. As she buckled in, she took a slow, steady breath.

At least now, if the anxiety became too much, she had an easy way out.

Once they were settled, he turned to her with an easy smile, offering his hand.

“I’m Harry,” he said.

Y/N already knew that. She had recognized him the second she saw him—his face was too familiar, whether from his days in One Direction or the countless photos of him that circulated online. But she didn’t acknowledge it. He was just another passenger on a plane, and she had no energy to make a big deal out of it.

She took his hand briefly, shaking it. “Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said, his voice warm, effortlessly charming.

She nodded, managing a small smile before turning her attention to the seatbelt in her lap, tightening it around her waist. The plane wasn’t even moving yet, but the nerves were already creeping in.

The overhead voice crackled through the cabin, announcing that the doors were now closed and the flight would be departing soon. Y/N’s stomach twisted. There was no turning back now.

She exhaled slowly and fidgeted with her fingers in her lap, rubbing her thumb over the edge of her nail. The familiar hum of the engines grew louder, and she could already feel her heart racing.

Needing a distraction, she reached into her bag and pulled out her book, flipping it open to where she had left off. She gripped it tightly, her knuckles pale as she focused on the words, trying to lose herself in the story.

From the corner of his eye, Harry noticed the way she took deep, measured breaths, the way her fingers tensed around the pages. He shifted slightly in his seat before turning toward her.

“That any good?” he asked, nodding toward the book in her hands.

Y/N blinked, her eyes darting to his. It took her a second to process his question.

“Oh,” she said, glancing down at the cover. “Yeah. It’s just a rom-com. Kind of cheesy, but in a good way.”

“Cheesy in a good way,” he repeated with a small smile. “That’s promising. What’s it about?”

Just as she opened her mouth to explain, the plane began to move, rolling slowly away from the gate. Her fingers clenched around the book a little tighter, her heartbeat quickening as she felt the shift beneath her.

She focused on Harry instead, forcing herself to speak, to explain the ridiculous but charming plot of the book. And as she did, as his interested expression encouraged her to keep talking, the plane turned onto the runway, speeding up for takeoff.

As the plane picked up speed, Y/N felt her words start to stumble, her thoughts tangling as she tried to explain the book’s plot. Her voice wavered, and she let out a small, frustrated sigh, gripping the armrest instead.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “I’m just–God, I hate this part.”

Harry glanced at her hands, noticing how tightly she was clutching the seat. Without hesitation, he spoke, his voice calm and steady.

“This might be weird,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “but if you need to squeeze my hand, you can.”

Y/N looked at him, uncertain for a moment. He wasn’t making a big deal out of it, wasn’t looking at her with pity—just an easy, open offer.

She swallowed, hesitating for only a second before reaching out and gripping his hand. His skin was warm, his fingers steady as she squeezed, holding on as the plane lifted off the ground.

He didn’t flinch or pull away. Instead, he gave her hand a small, reassuring squeeze back, grounding her just enough to get through those first few seconds of flight.

Y/N kept her grip on Harry’s hand as the plane tilted upward, her stomach lurching with the ascent. She squeezed her eyes shut, inhaling deeply through her nose, counting the seconds until the worst of it was over.

Harry didn’t say anything, didn’t rush her or try to distract her with empty reassurances. He just let her hold on, his thumb brushing against the back of her hand in an absent, soothing motion.

After what felt like forever, the plane finally leveled out, the pressure in her chest easing slightly. She let out a long breath and slowly opened her eyes, realizing then just how tightly she had been holding his hand. Embarrassed, she quickly let go, pressing her palms against her lap.

“Sorry,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s alright,” Harry interrupted, offering a small, knowing smile. “Really. I don’t mind.”

Y/N exhaled, feeling her shoulders relax for the first time since she stepped onto the plane. She glanced out the window, where the world below was now nothing but clouds, soft and endless. The worst part was over.

She turned back to him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks for that. I just… I really hate flying.”

“Yeah, I kinda picked up on that,” he teased lightly. “But you did good.”

She huffed out a small laugh, finally allowing herself to relax into her seat. She picked up her book again, running her fingers over the edges of the pages, but before she could open it, Harry spoke again.

“So, tell me more about this ‘cheesy but in a good way’ book of yours.”

Y/N glanced at him, surprised, but his expression was genuine, his body still turned slightly toward her like he actually wanted to hear about it.

She hesitated for only a moment before finally cracking a small smile. “Alright. So, it’s about these two people who used to be best friends, but then they had this falling out and—”

And just like that, the flight didn’t seem quite as long anymore.

[harryistheonlyoneforme]

thank you love!!!🤍🫶🏾

harry styles recs

wardrobe malfunction | imagine, fluff | @watchmegetobsessed

intimacy | one shot, trifecta (smut, fluff, angst) | @goldengalore

people pleaser | two shot, fluff (little angsty) | @grapejuicestyless

shy | one shot, flangst | @moonchildstyles

friends before fans | imagine, flangst | @finelinevogue (love this one)

tuesday | one shot, flangst | @1d1195

happy surprise | imagine, fluff | @finelinevogue

could we not? | two shot, flangst | @be-with-me-so-happily

lunch time | imagine, fluff | @harrysmimi

i'm dating your boss, surprise | au, imagine, flangst | @harryscherrypie

destiny | imagine, angst | @freedomfireflies

something new | one shot, fluff | @gucciwins

celebrating harry's birthday | series (the whole series is good, i just reeeeaaaally like this imagine from it) | @avatar-anna

birthday girl | drabble, fluff | @justmystyles

perfect harmony | imagine, flangst | @justmystyles

rosemary | au, series | @moonchildstyles

i want forever | imagine, flangst | @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite

false god | one shot, trifecta | @sleepyhollands

paparazzi nerves | imagine, flangst | @finelinevogue

love in secret | one shot, fluff (some angst) | @mydearesthrry

love and tour | one shot, fluff | @watchmegetobsessed

the final show | imagine, fluff (little angst) | @watchmegetobsessed

sweet nothing | imagine, fluff | @mydearesthrry

wild geese | two shot, angst | @meetmymouth

stopped feeling it | drabble, smut, angst (but comfort) | @meetmymouth

beautiful baker boy | au, imagine, fluff | @knowiloveyoubabe

infatuation on a mutual level | au, one shot, smut, fluff | @harrygoeswest

saying yes | imagine, fluff | @finelinevogue

afterparty | au, imagine, smutish, fluff | @chaoticloving

black ice | one shot, flangst | @theonewiththefanfics

wake up call | au, imagine, smut | @harryistheonlyoneforme

no guarantee | au, one shot, fluff, smut | @allofurlove

[thelostmagicians]

Shield of a Heart | Harry Styles: Part I

The Assignment

Series Masterlist

Summary: You’re Harry Styles’s personal bodyguard [3.4k]

Fluff, comfort, angst, panic attack, security risks

♡

The scent of fresh coffee and polished wood lingered in Jeff’s office, blending with the faint aroma of cologne. The morning sun filtered through the half-open blinds, casting slanted golden lines across the desk where Harry sat, fingers idly drumming against the surface. He had heard this conversation before. The ticking of the clock seemed louder than usual, a reminder that time was never on their side.

"H, I know you hate the idea of constant security," Jeff said, his tone serious. "But we can’t ignore what’s been happening. The crowd outside the hotel last week? The guy who jumped the barricade at your show? It’s getting worse."

Harry exhaled sharply, running a hand through his curls, his gaze unfocused. "I don’t want to be that celebrity, Jeff. The one who walks around with an entourage, who has security pushing people away like they’re some kind of plague. I like interacting with fans. I don’t want to build walls around myself."

Jeff sighed, rubbing his temples, his face lined with frustration. "Then we find a way to make it low-key. I hired someone from an agency that specializes in undercover security. No obvious muscle, no uniforms, just someone watching your back without making it obvious."

Harry arched a brow, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Sounds expensive."

"Worth every penny. You’ll barely notice her."

Before Harry could argue further, a knock at the door interrupted them. Jeff stood and opened it, revealing you—dressed in a sleek yet practical outfit: dark jeans, a fitted black jacket, and boots sturdy enough for function yet stylish enough to blend in. Your posture was confident, poised, and alert, projecting a quiet authority that immediately commanded attention.

Harry’s lips parted slightly, the surprise evident in his eyes. He had been expecting someone completely different.

Jeff cleared his throat, his expression apologetic. "Harry, meet your new bodyguard."

There was a beat of silence as Harry and Jeff exchanged a quick glance of surprise.

You smirked slightly, though you kept your posture professional. "Let me guess—you two were expecting someone different?"

Jeff opened his mouth to deny it, but Harry’s expression gave them both away.

"A bit," Harry admitted, his voice laced with humor. "Not in a bad way, just... surprised."

"It’s okay," you replied with a shrug, your tone light. "Happens all the time. People see me and assume I’m a PR manager or an assistant. Maybe even a stunt double on a good day. But I assure you, I’m more than qualified to keep you safe."

Jeff leaned forward, a mix of pride and reassurance in his voice. "She comes highly recommended, top of her class. Trained in multiple combat techniques, counter-surveillance, defensive driving—you name it."

Harry hesitated before shaking your hand. "Right. Of course. I appreciate you doing this."

"It’s my job," you said simply, gripping his hand firmly, your touch brief but firm. "And I take it seriously. I’ll be shadowing you from now on. I won’t interfere with your day-to-day life unless I deem it necessary for your safety."

Jeff let out a breath of relief. "Alright. You start tomorrow."

As you left the office, you could feel Harry's eyes following you, still assessing, still deciding how he felt about the arrangement. You had a feeling this wasn't going to be an easy job, but you were used to challenges.

—

The next morning, you arrived early, determined to start taking action. You wanted to make the house feel like a safe space for Harry, not one that reminded him he was constantly under threat. As you entered, Harry’s house was still quiet, but you could hear the faint hum of a coffee machine in the kitchen. Harry’s team had already started arriving, but they barely noticed you as you moved with purpose. You couldn’t afford distractions.

The first thing you did was walk the perimeter of the house. The gates were solid, but outdated. You noted the number of hidden spots that weren’t covered by security cameras. There was an entrance to the side of the house that led to a narrow alley, and another hidden behind a tall garden wall. You couldn’t trust that nothing could slip by unnoticed.

You took mental notes—doorways, windows, gates, and even the trees that created shadows by the fence. No blind spots could go unaccounted for. After another quick call, you arranged for a full security system update.

By noon, new security cameras were being installed. You had chosen ones with facial recognition, ensuring that only those Harry authorized would be able to get past the front gate. Each camera was strategically placed in spots Harry didn’t even think to look. One was on top of the high garden wall, offering a bird's-eye view of anyone who came too close. Another was hidden behind a small decorative tree in the yard, monitoring the back door.

The most important change, however, came at the gate. You had noticed the gate code was easy to remember, but anyone who had once had access to it could still get in if they tried. The security team replaced the old keypad with a biometric scanner—fingerprint and face recognition—making it nearly impossible for anyone other than Harry or trusted personnel to gain entry. It was a decision made in the best interest of both privacy and safety.

Later in the day, as Harry returned home from a brief meeting, you watched him pull into the driveway. He came to a stop, giving you a quizzical look as he noticed the new setup.

"Okay, this is new," Harry said as he got out of the car, motioning toward the new camera at the gate and the biometric scanner you had installed. He raised an eyebrow. "Didn’t think I’d need to scan my face just to get into my own house."

You smiled coolly. "Better safe than sorry. You never know who might have access to your old codes. This is the next level of protection."

Harry paused, eyeing the scanner, and you could almost see the wheels turning in his head. You weren’t just a bodyguard anymore. You were someone who understood how to keep him safe. His face softened slightly, but there was still a hint of hesitation in his eyes.

“I don’t know how I feel about all of this," Harry said, clearly uncomfortable with the changes. "It feels a little... extreme.”

You could sense his resistance, but you had expected this. "The changes are necessary, Harry," you said gently. "And it’s all for your safety. Trust me, it’ll feel like second nature soon enough."

You stepped away, watching him for a moment, before giving him some space. You knew Harry wasn’t the type to embrace change quickly, especially when it came to his personal life. But the new measures weren’t negotiable, and you couldn’t afford to back down.

—

That evening, after a brief rundown of your expectations, Harry seemed to nod along, seemingly compliant. However, as soon as he left Jeff’s office, you noticed his quick pace and sharp turns. You felt a shift in the air—the subtle challenge of Harry trying to lose you. He walked quickly, turning corners sharply, hoping you'd fall behind.

But you didn’t. You kept pace, your eyes scanning the area with precision, anticipating his every move. He stopped by a coffee shop, ordering something he didn’t even want, just to see if you’d relax your guard. You didn’t. By the time he reached his car, you were already standing beside it, waiting for him.

Harry sighed, shaking his head with a small, reluctant smirk. "Alright, I get it. You’re good."

"You should’ve figured that out when they hired me," you replied evenly, opening the door for him. He slid in, still watching you with mild curiosity, his eyes darting over your face as if trying to piece together the enigma that was you.

You didn’t talk much during the ride, but every so often, you could feel his gaze flicking toward you, studying you in his own quiet way. He wasn’t convinced yet, but he was starting to accept that you weren’t going anywhere.

—

After you dropped Harry off, you headed back to the office to wrap up the day’s tasks. Just as you were about to leave, Jeff caught up to you in the hallway. His expression was serious, a far cry from the casual confidence he usually carried.

"Look, I know this is only your first day, but I just wanted to give you a heads-up," Jeff said, lowering his voice. "Harry’s stubborn, and he’s not going to make this easy. He’ll try to shake you, test your limits. He doesn’t believe he needs this level of protection, and he’ll resist at every turn."

You nodded, already anticipating the challenge. "I can handle it. I’ve dealt with difficult clients before."

Jeff glanced at you, his eyes softening just slightly. "It’s not just that," he continued. "Harry doesn’t just push back because he’s stubborn. He won’t admit when he needs help, especially when it comes to anything related to his safety. He’ll act like he’s fine, even when he’s not. Just… be patient with him. This is going to take time."

You absorbed his words carefully, already starting to form a strategy in your mind. This job wasn’t just about physical protection; it was about navigating Harry’s emotional landscape, too. "I’ll keep that in mind."

Jeff sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Just don’t back down. He might push you, but that’s just how he is. You’re doing good, though. I can see it."

You offered him a small, confident smile. "Thanks. I won’t let you down."

—

The following morning, after a restless night of monitoring security systems and reviewing the updated perimeter, you decided it was time to establish some ground rules. As you entered Harry’s house early, you noticed he was still in his pajamas, a mug of coffee in hand as he browsed through his phone. His hair was messy, and his usual polished aura was absent. He didn’t look up as you approached, but you knew this conversation was inevitable.

"No unannounced outings," you said firmly, your voice cutting through the morning air. "If you’re leaving the house, I need to know ahead of time. If you’re meeting someone, I vet them first. No exceptions."

Harry scoffed, slumping back in his chair as if the weight of the world had suddenly been placed on his shoulders. "You want to approve my dates now, too?"

You met his gaze without flinching. "If your date is a security risk, yes."

Mitch, one of Harry’s closest friends and bandmate, smirked from across the table. "She’s got you there, mate."

The room was filled with Harry’s band and team, all gathered together. Mitch and Sarah were there, along with Jeff, who had accompanied you to the house early that morning. Sarah stayed mostly quiet, watching the interaction with interest, while Mitch, as always, was ready with a teasing comment. Jeff, however, stood firmly on your side. He knew the importance of what you were doing and had already helped arrange the meeting. His presence was a reminder that this wasn’t just about you and Harry—it was about Harry’s safety, and Jeff understood that.

"I called everyone in this morning to go over some new ground rules," you continued, setting a folder of documents down in front of Harry. "This isn’t just about you, Harry. This is about your team too. It’s important that everyone is on the same page, especially when it comes to security."

Harry raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond immediately, still holding onto his coffee mug. Mitch, noticing the tension, leaned back in his chair, making a show of stretching. "Alright, boss," Mitch said with a playful grin. "What’s the first rule? Can we still sneak out for late-night gigs without her tracking us down?"

You shot Mitch a look, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "Mitch, you’re not a teenager anymore. If there’s something important you want to do, you let me know first. No more spontaneous plans. You know I need to vet it. Same goes for all of you. It’s for your safety and Harry’s."

Jeff, who had been quietly watching, finally spoke up, his voice calm but assertive. "Mitch, she's right. We can’t afford to take any chances anymore. If we’re going to do this right, everyone’s got to be on board with the rules. For Harry’s safety and all of ours."

Harry muttered something under his breath but didn’t argue. He toyed with a bracelet on his wrist, his fingers absentmindedly twirling it, clearly irritated by the restriction. You could tell the added pressure was building. It wasn’t just the rules—it was the idea of being watched, the feeling of someone else controlling parts of his life.

But you had to be firm. He needed structure, even if he didn’t want it. And it was your job to make sure he understood that these boundaries were for his own good. You had to pick your battles carefully, but you couldn’t back down now.

"Look, I get it," you added, noticing the strain on his face. "You don’t want to feel like you’re being treated like a child. But I’m not here to ruin your life, Harry. I’m here to make sure you stay safe. That means I need to know where you are, who you’re with, and if anything goes off track. You may not like it, but it’s non-negotiable."

The room was silent for a moment, the weight of your words sinking in. Sarah, always the mediator, glanced between Harry and you. She didn’t speak up, but you could tell she was trying to gauge the situation. Jeff, on the other hand, nodded in approval.

"This is exactly why we need to stay organized," Jeff added. "We’ve all seen the risks. It's better to be proactive than reactive. It might seem over the top now, but trust me—it’ll pay off."

Harry’s eyes flashed with mild frustration, but he didn’t speak up. The rules were getting stricter, and though you could tell he wasn’t thrilled, you weren’t about to bend. His life wasn’t just his own anymore—it was part of a much larger, more complex world now, and everything had to be accounted for. This wasn’t just about protecting him from the outside world. It was about making sure nothing slipped through the cracks.

You turned back to Harry, who was still fidgeting with his bracelet, seemingly lost in thought. "I’ll be reviewing all of your appointments and travel schedules. No more impromptu decisions. If there’s anything outside of the ordinary, you’re to clear it with me first. This includes interviews, public events, and meetings with anyone who isn’t part of your team."

Mitch, always ready to throw in his playful commentary, grinned. "So, does that mean you’ll be approving my plans too, or are you going to let me live a little?"

You gave him a deadpan stare. "If your plans involve a security risk, Mitch, then yes. I’ll be reviewing them."

Mitch raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I see how this is going."

Harry let out a frustrated sigh but didn’t argue further. His team wasn’t exactly hostile, but there was a clear air of tension. They were used to having more autonomy, and now they were all adjusting to the fact that you were calling the shots when it came to security.

As the meeting wrapped up, you found another chance to add more rules. "I’m going to be implementing a detailed daily check-in. If you’re going anywhere, I want to know your exact plans for the day. That means no unplanned stops, no sudden changes of heart. Everything is to be accounted for."

Harry slumped further into his chair, running his hand through his hair. "Fine," he muttered, clearly exhausted from the conversation. "But this better not become a habit."

You leaned in slightly, your voice calm but firm. "It will, for your safety. And we both know this isn’t just a ‘habit.’ It’s necessary."

Harry nodded stiffly, his posture still tense, but you could see a flicker of acceptance in his eyes. There was a silent understanding growing between you two—a recognition that this arrangement wasn’t ideal, but it was the only way forward.

You gave him a small, knowing smile. "I know you’re not used to this, but in the long run, it’ll make things easier for both of us."

Harry nodded stiffly, but his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary. There was something unspoken between you now, a mutual understanding. He might have fought the rules at first, but you had a feeling he was beginning to see the logic behind them.

Mitch shot Harry a teasing smile. "Looks like she’s got you on lockdown now, mate."

Harry rolled his eyes, but there was no real heat behind it. He was adjusting, even if it wasn’t easy. And as for you, you knew this was only the beginning. Building trust took time, but you were willing to work for it. The rules you were setting were necessary. And despite his initial resistance, Harry was starting to realize that he needed them.

—

The next few days passed without incident, but you stayed vigilant, constantly assessing Harry’s routines and the security setup. You knew that with a celebrity like him, the danger wasn’t always obvious, and there would be moments when he’d try to slip through the cracks. He was stubborn, determined, but you had a feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time he tested you.

That night, after another late evening of monitoring Harry’s schedule, you retired to the security room once more. You pulled up a map of Harry’s estate, overlaying it with your notes. Every camera feed was up on the screen, every exit was accounted for, and you had finally established a solid perimeter.

As you closed the laptop, your gaze lingered on the footage of Harry smiling in front of the cameras, pushing through the crowd for his fans. The image on the screen didn’t capture the subtle tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes always darted around when he was surrounded.

You’d noticed it before, but now you understood it better. Harry wasn’t just worried about his fans. He was worried about the cracks that formed around him—the way people expected him to be perfect, the endless demands for a version of himself that could never be entirely real. The pressure was immense. Behind that charming smile, behind the carefully curated persona, was a man who wasn’t sure where the public’s love for him ended and where his own fear began. People wanted to be close to him, to see the man behind the legend, but the truth was, they didn’t always know what to do with the raw, unguarded version of Harry. The one who, when the cameras were off, sometimes felt like he was drowning in his own image.

You understood it now—the anxiety that haunted him, the cracks that formed around his confidence. It wasn’t just about the crowds or the pressure to always be "on." It was the constant battle of being vulnerable in a world that only ever seemed to want the version of him that smiled on stage, not the person who carried the weight of his own flaws, fears, and humanity.

Your job wasn’t just about protecting him from the outside world. It was about protecting him from his own vulnerability, making sure that he wasn’t consumed by the relentless expectations placed on him.

As you sat there in the dim glow of the monitors, you couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take before Harry truly accepted the help he needed. He had always kept his guard up, never fully letting anyone in. You had learned that much about him already. But you had to admit, there was a subtle shift in the way he relied on your presence. Even if he didn’t admit it, he was beginning to let you in, piece by piece.

You leaned back in your chair, taking a breath. You had your work cut out for you, but it was the job you had taken, and you were determined to make sure Harry never had to face the world alone.

The stakes were higher than just his safety now—he was at a crossroads, and so were you. But if there was one thing you knew for sure, it was that this journey would change both of you in ways you couldn’t yet predict.

[babyyhoneyyyyy]

✩ 🔦 𝓥𝓲𝓰𝓲𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮🍸 ༘⋆ - One Shot [h.s]

Storyline: The sole goal that Harry pursues in his existence is to secure his position as the bodyguard of the prime minister's daughter. However, he faces a singular challenge that prevents him from achieving it: his unavoidable attraction to the rebellious and charismatic young lady he is supposed to protect. Word count: 4k+ Smut: 🔞

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"Second room is secured. I repeat. Second room is secured."

The sound of the announcement echoed in his ear, his concentration fading as he gazed out at the pool from one of the balconies.

"First floor is also secured." A deeper voice from his next companion echoed.

The summer breeze brushed against his face, causing him to squint, yet his gaze remained fixed on the pool.

"Styles. Need confirmation on the main courtyard." His surname sounded foreign through the earpiece, blurring as the sound of laughter reached his ears, sweet and soft.

"Repeat, confirmation on the main courtyard, Styles." His companion's attempt to elicit a response continued to be ignored, whether by his senses or his mind. His pupils dilated and his lips parted as he watched the strawberry drink being absorbed through the thin straw. His throat felt drier than usual, and he had to close his eyes as he straightened up. He couldn't afford to be distracted any longer.

"Styles?"

He breathed in the fresh air as his eyes snapped open. His fingers brushed the small button on his earpiece as he turned away, leaving behind the hallway, the strawberry drink, and the young woman who had decided it was a good idea to remove the top of her bikini just as she had seen the man enter through the balcony.

"Main courtyard secured." He confirmed as he continued on his way in the opposite direction, ignoring the whisper in his mind urging him to turn back. But the prime minister awaited him downstairs, ready to assign the month's tasks due to his unexpected trip.

A business trip to Paris, lasting at least a week, and one in which he definitely couldn't take his daughter. The instruction was clear: "Don't lose sight of her", prompting everyone to nod before he climbed into the van with the other half of the team.

Harry scanned the faces of those present, noting the indifferent expressions of some friends and the friendly one from Carrie, his closest companion. Carrie had been the first to greet him upon arrival and, by chance, had introduced him to Audrey Coldwell.

He remembered that moment as if it were yesterday, perhaps because he had replayed it countless times in his mind since that night.

Audrey had been dining—or her version of it, with wine and cheese—sitting at the far end of the table. The first thing Harry noticed was her hair, cascading curls down her back. A throat-clearing from his companion wasn't enough to gain the young woman's attention, prompting Carrie to maintain her gaze on her before both approached.

Warm lighting filled the grand dining hall, where an excessively long wooden table dominated the room. As he approached, he began to notice the small details: the chandelier in the room's center, the shiny floor reflecting his image, the abundance of untouched food served in golden dishes, and the classic style of the house that contrasted completely with his own, which was more modern and not at all luxurious. Still, his house had been enough for him at the time, though he had to sell it after getting that job, which was one of the reasons that forced him to stay in that position.

That's precisely what forced him to draw a small smile when he found himself next to the young woman, whose face he still hadn't seen well because of the curls that fell over her face. He could only see her outfit, which consisted of a white silk nightgown over black fabric, which Harry supposed was her usual pajamas.

"Who's this?"

The question brought him sharply back to reality, filling him with discomfort. Harry blinked, confused, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly before Carrie gave him a reassuring look, then addressing the young woman looking for an answer.

"His name is Harry Styles, Miss Coldwell. He will be joining our team starting today."

Then, for the first time, Audrey's eyes met his. A contrast between deep chocolate brown and emerald green, yet despite that, the discomfort was evident in her intense gaze. Harry didn't fully understand Audrey's attitude, although his mind filled with possible explanations, like the typical arrogant behavior of people from her social class. However, he tried not to show his discomfort and growing displeasure, preferring to keep his gaze ahead rather than look at her, maintaining his expressionless face. Seconds later, it was the young woman who broke the silence.

"Did they change Alex for him?"

Harry decided not to inquire further about the matter after he and Carrie left the room once Audrey's attention turned back to the wine. Carrie also chose to remain silent, but both understood what it meant.

The answer was yes, and Harry could only speculate about the reason for 'Alex's dismissal. However, he was sure of one thing: if something similar happened to him, his fate would be humiliation and immediate replacement.

And that was something Harry was not willing to risk.

But for Audrey, the situation wasn't a risk but an adrenaline rush; a reality that Harry would discover the next morning, after their boss's departure.

The day started early at seven in the morning, but long before his alarm sounded, he heard the squeak of the door. A cry echoed down the hallway: "She's gone!" 

Still with heavy eyes, he got out of bed. Suddenly, his own door swung open without warning, revealing Carrie in what Harry supposed was her usual pajamas, consisting of sweatpants and a loose polo; however, and more disturbingly, was the strange expression on her familiar face. Realization hit him immediately, as the commotion began to spread through the hallway.

She's gone.

Audrey had left.

The rest of the day had been extremely distressing. The team scattered completely, exploring every place that seemed a plausible option for each of them. From yoga classes to university courses, passing through extracurricular activities, their favorite spots, external places like parks and streets, and even the different rooms of the house, but they found no trace of Coldwell.

And then, was there any place he hadn't considered at all?

Traffic forced him to stop in front of the church, prompting him to sigh with irony. Perhaps with a prayer, he could find her before his father found out, risking his professional career. He briefly closed his eyes as he took a deep breath, opening them again at the honking of the car behind him, urging him to move. However, his attention first focused on a line of nuns crossing the pedestrian crossing with notable patience, even after the traffic light turned green.

Harry observed their dark habits and the veils covering their heads, some tall, others short, but his gaze stopped at one in particular, notably younger. Unable to help himself, his eyes traveled her figure from head to toe.

A nun in designer shoes.

Unbelievable, yet true.

He reflected on the contemporaneity of the environment he was in, considering how common it was to associate the concept of a petite woman, with a face marked by years and the serene air of a nun. He had his aunt as an example, who had embraced religious life, which, she believed, had contributed to her own personal development. He deeply respected her and had contemplated the idea of following a similar path, and now, facing the possibility of being fired from his job, he found himself contemplating that option again. Perhaps all this time his true roots were destined for religious life. He imagined himself wearing a clerical suit with black pants, along with the alb; he even pictured himself carrying his own cross, the same one hanging around his neck at that moment.

The noise of the car behind him resonated loudly, catching his attention as he watched it move forward, the driver visibly angry and hurling insults.

Harry turned his gaze back to the church, watching the nuns' habits disappear behind a distant door.

He moved his hand to the handbrake, releasing it to press the accelerator.

Designer shoes.

Instead of the accelerator, he pressed the brake.

The elegant designer shoes no longer seemed extravagant in his mind when he remembered seeing that exact model and how he recognized them.

It was at a party in the Coldwell garden, days after he had started working there. Audrey Coldwell herself had worn those shoes, and he swore they had been custom-made for her then.

The roar of car horns behind him had never been as deafening as when he made a U-turn, regardless of the risk of hitting another vehicle, to quickly park in front of the church. He hastily locked the car and ran through the streets.

Once inside, he felt completely out of place. The atmosphere of the mass immediately intimidated him, and the looks he drew when he interrupted seemed to judge him severely. He murmured an empty apology, his heart racing and his eyes anxiously searching every corner of the church.

His eyes wandered between his wrist, the clock, and the scene before him. Finally, he identified the door through which he had seen the last nun enter. However, as he tried to move forward, an institution guard stopped him, with strict orders to allow access only to the nuns. An ironic smile crossed his mind.

If Audrey could be a nun, then he could consider being a father.

Despite his attempts to persuade the guard, he was unsuccessful. Finally, he was forced to resort to his only option: creating a distraction for the guard and finding an alternative way in. As soon as the guard looked away for a moment, he slipped inside.

A garden unfolded around him, his feet running on the grass, and the dress shoes began to discomfort him.

He walked with lighter steps as the surroundings around him seemed to empty out, only a few figures dressed in habits that stood out from his stature continued their course, seemingly unaware of what was going through his mind. His lips parted as he ran his hand through his hair, carefully adjusting it as some curls began to bother him on his forehead. Then, his hand slid toward the start of his tie, pulling slightly to loosen it. He felt the oppression increasing until, like a sign from fate, his senses sharpened to hear the sound of wood hitting something like that.

They were heels.

His attention immediately shifted back, where he recognized some of the nuns he had seen before. Beyond them, he saw the shoes he had been looking for. Without receiving any orders, his feet resumed their path, but nothing seemed to make her feel more distant. With effort, his throat was forced to act, leaving aside the little shame that remained to finally speak aloud the name that had been echoing in his mind, finally catching her attention.

Audrey's eyes widened in surprise, but just when Harry thought that would be his exit, the corners of Audrey's lips curved into a subtle smile, completely transforming her expression. With her hands together and a small bow, she caused the expression on Harry's face to change from satisfaction to anger.

Without wasting time, Audrey murmured an "amen" as she turned to head to another room.

Harry's eyes followed her; she could feel it on her back, his gaze gripping tightly and penetrating her very being. Perhaps that's why she had chosen the church as her hiding place and not somewhere else.

Purification was what she had in mind.

Her footsteps echoed in the deserted halls, the stillness marked by the time of day. Most of the nuns were at the public mass being held at that moment.

Although the church wasn't her usual place, she had visited enough to know the corners that nuns typically didn't access until a certain time, especially during mass.

It was precisely in that same room where she had found her outfit for the day: the custodian's area, fortunately vacant during the weekend.

Finally, she reached the door. As she attempted to close it behind her, a hand forcefully landed on the wood, stopping it and entering the space beside her.

"What are you doing?"

The rough tone in Harry's hoarse voice startled her suddenly, aware of her recent predicament as they both crowded into the cramped space near the shelf filled with cleaning products.

"Do you realize how many people are looking for you right now?" His body pressed against hers, the proximity accentuated by the annoyed expression on his face. "You've got everyone scouring every corner of the city."

Audrey smiled wider as she watched Harry's cheeks turn rosier, spreading across his face as he stared at her intensely. She wondered if he noticed his blush, if it was due to his own discomfort or if, like her, he was feeling the heat rise in that confined space.

"Let's go," he declared firmly, taking her arm, which she immediately withdrew.

"Or what?" Her voice barely whispered but was audible enough for both. Her brown eyes seized the silence to examine the face so close to hers. With a dark look towards her, furrowed brow, lips slightly parted seeking air as his breath became uneven.

It was the same expression Audrey had dreamed of before running away from home.

"Or I'll tell your father."

The threat seemed amusing to her.

"Tell him," she replied. "Then he'll realize how inefficient you are at doing your job."

The cold treatment made Harry roll his eyes in exasperation. He was already used to Audrey's bouts of arrogance, but this time, his patience wasn't what it had been on previous occasions.

"I'll see what I do."

"I don't think it's appropriate for you to talk to me like that," she replied.

"And how do you expect me to talk to you when you've got me chasing you through a fucking church?"

Audrey slightly arched her eyebrows at his exasperated response, making Harry avoid her gaze. Even though he could feel her eyes fixed on him.

He desperately needed to take a breath, and he took a few seconds to do so, but when he finally commanded his feet to move to leave, whether with her or without her, it seemed as though his senses had somehow disconnected.

His duty forced him to return to her side, no matter what.

But she made it so hard.

"Even more inappropriate," she suddenly declared, breaking the silence that had filled the place. "Cursing in a church." Her heel softly echoed on the polished floor as she stepped forward, feeling the brush of Harry's nose against her face. "What other inappropriate things do you plan to do here, Harry?"

Her name resonated in a whisper that tormented him, swirling in his mind like a treacherous melody. He didn't know how else to feel, mixing the rapid beating of his heart from the growing adrenaline, the desperation, and, worse, the temptation.

He closed his eyes for a moment, wishing to see only darkness, but reality hit him as his other senses awakened, and Audrey's sweet perfume permeated his being.

He opened his eyes.

"Take that off so we can leave," he murmured again, and to his surprise, the young woman nodded.

"As you wish."

Audrey could see the frown on Harry's face before her hands lowered her habit. The silk slipped off her shoulders and body with a smooth motion, revealing the black babydoll and matching set she wore underneath. The noticeable change in Harry's breathing brought a smile to her face. She could feel his breath, with a hint of mint, that caught her attention. Audrey glanced down for a moment, just long enough to pick up the uniform that had fallen to the floor, then lifted her head to meet the green eyes that were watching her.

Seconds passed with unsettling slowness as she rose. Audrey could perceive every detail of his face accentuated by the dim light, with a curl falling over his forehead, his chest rising and falling with measured breaths. In that moment, Audrey wondered if he was breathing properly.

"Do you do this often?" she heard him ask when he was facing her again. She tilted her head to one side, pretending not to understand. "Seducing your bodyguards."

The answer was already reflected on Audrey's face when her eyes sparkled as she responded.

"Only the ones I find interesting."

Harry couldn't pinpoint the exact moment his heart began to pound, but with that response, he couldn't help but imagine the same situation with someone else, causing his steady breathing to falter.

"Now I understand why Alex found it so hard to keep his job."

The confusion on her face vanished instantly when she felt the push of Harry's body against hers, finally perceiving him above her, though unable to yet savor the mint taste of his mouth. Harry chose another route, bringing his lips to her neck, allowing his saliva to taste the sweet perfume, which in his mouth turned bitter, but this lacked importance when Audrey's soft moans echoed directly in his ear.

Desperation and compassion manifested in his hands as he kept her in contact with his skin, his fingers gently gripping her hips and raising her leg to bring her even closer to him. The friction of her underwear against his pants was starting to become uncomfortable, and as his tongue slid down her neck, the urgency to calm the throbbing in her most intimate area intensified. To her surprise, Harry seemed to perceive it immediately, pulling back slightly to look at her.

Audrey's eyes, filled with pleading, seized his face. For a moment, she believed their tongues would finally intertwine; but soon she realized her mistake as she watched Harry kneel. Now, she was leaning against the wall and one of the cleaning shelves, while Harry, from the ground, pressed his face against her skin.

The sound of her own breathing filled her ears as Harry's fingers moved over her panties with agonizing slowness. She felt his lips traveling over her skin, unsure if they were trying to silence her or provoke her to speak more. His tongue explored forbidden corners, while his fingers maintained a continuous game of approaching and retreating.

Then, her hand descended to grab his hair once more, urging him to act, only for him to react faster and hold her back. Instead of pushing her away as Audrey had thought, Harry took her hand, guiding her fingers over his, and with a swift motion, he pulled her panties aside, exposing her intimacy.

Forcefully, her fingers clung to the fabric as Harry's touch focused on the exact spot where she needed it most. Audrey felt his breath on her, but not with the intensity she desired, leading her to look at him with narrowed eyes for a brief moment. He looked up with a half-smile.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

"You're so wet," Harry murmured, letting his words seep into Aubrey's senses. "Is it for me?"

She quickly nodded, exhaling a deep sigh.

"Words." Harry ordered in a rough voice, sending a shiver down Aubrey's spine. Swallowing with difficulty, she responded, "Only for you."

It was then that Aubrey noticed how the amusement in those green eyes transformed into the itch of his own lust in the blink of an eye.

"I'll make sure it stays that way from now on."

With only a warning that would echo in her mind forever, she felt Harry's tongue on her. A singular suction, a desperate pleasure. His lips pressed against her, his saliva mixing with her own fluids, and she heard him sucking and licking in perfect harmony, making the sound itself fuel her arousal.

She then thought about the possibility of living only from that pleasure, from the delight Harry provided her, from his muffled sounds between her thighs, from how he molded her ass while bringing her clitoris closer to his mouth, and from the way he looked at her from his kneeling position.

She could even live from a photo of him just as he was at that moment. So unreal.

The adrenaline increased as her fingers brushed against anything they could touch while she tried to keep her balance. She stumbled upon more cleaning items and even a small book, whose title she avoided reading so as not to remember the fate that had been imposed on her.

It was a direct ticket to hell, which at that moment was worth it for a small slice of paradise.

As the heat invaded her cheeks, she felt the space around her shrink. Her moans escaped her lips, and in a desperate attempt to contain them, she pressed her own hand against her mouth, biting down hard on her palm, hoping the pain would mitigate her desire, though it only seemed to intensify it.

Suddenly, feeling Harry's fingers joining his tongue inside her, entering with two dry fingers that, once they crossed the barrier, became wet in her essence, a muffled moan escaped her lips, followed by an abrupt silence around them. Harry had stopped.

"N-no, no." Audrey's words barely escaped her mouth as her dry throat burned, and the man kneeling before her locked his green eyes with hers. Audrey swallowed hard.

Harry chose silence over speaking, lowering his gaze. In a movement that escaped Audrey's sight, his free hand slid towards her panties, pulling them down until they fell around her heels. Once Audrey managed to lift each foot to free herself from them, Harry picked them up with his fingers.

"Open."

Harry's harsh voice filled the silence as he brought the panties to Audrey's lips. With that single command, a jolt of electricity coursed through her body, and she obeyed, parting her lips, feeling the lace brush against her tongue and gag her.

Without warning, the fingers reunited inside her, this time three of them, moving swiftly and adjusting to her contours. Harry's tongue swirled around her clit as if he were in a personal competition, and perhaps he was, challenging himself to see how quickly he could bring the woman, who struggled to make no sound in a sacred place, to the highest point of pleasure.

Whether it was the excitement, the adrenaline of being discovered, the sensation of Harry's tongue, or her own skill, Aubrey finally reached that moment, feeling the tension spread to her cheeks, making them burn just like her body. Her eyes squeezed shut, and her grip on the shelf tightened, clinging to it as if her life depended on it.

Her cry of release was trapped in her underwear, wet from the mix of her saliva and parted lips. But as if that wasn't enough, she soon felt a more intense pressure in her mouth when Harry's hand firmly covered her outcry.

Her eyelids finally lifted as her breathing began to stabilize, and when she thought she couldn't take it any longer, she found Harry's gaze fixed on her.

In the dim light of the room, his face emerged clearly, his hair tousled from her fingers that had run through it, with his curls spilling over his forehead, and his lips slightly parted, still wet from the fluids she had left on them.

A sigh escaped her lips without warning. Though she wasn't sure if it was from exhaustion or from the new wave of heat from having that sight right in front of her.

In one last effort to uncover her true desire, Aubrey mustered the courage to move forward and firmly grasp Harry's neck, pressing him against her body once more, feeling the bulge in his pants pressing against her stomach. But before her hands could slide further down, he quickly stopped her.

"There will be another day when you can make it up to me," he murmured, causing her eyebrows to rise, mixing surprise and disappointment, although that feeling quickly faded. Did this mean there would be a next time? Her eyes gleamed in the darkness. "Go to the car."

The command had almost turned into a question. The confidence in Harry's gaze faded before Aubrey left the room, already changed and seemingly more presentable, no longer in the nun outfit and dressed in clothes that truly reflected her personality.

"I'll go to the car," she confirmed as Harry's hand squeezed her wrist. "I have no other church to take refuge in," a crooked smile began to form on her face. Harry swallowed hard. "Or any other janitor's closet to dirty."

Finally, he nodded, his cheeks reddened, which contrasted with the attitude he usually displayed. It was fascinating to observe those small changes in him for her. Every time, it became more intriguing to see him.

"Oh, I almost forgot. About Alex..." Aubrey bit her lips, struggling to hold back a smile that threatened to appear at Harry's immediate reaction. "You would have had more chances with him than I did. Alex is gay."

With those words, she turned. A mischievous expression forming on her face as she saw his green eyes widen.

As she exited the room and re-entered the green space, several men dressed in black suits quickly passed by her. She averted her gaze, avoiding looking at them, just before hearing a new shout behind her.

"Catch him!"

Before she could react, she felt a tug on her arm that forced her to move quickly. Harry's fingers had gripped her again, and once more, adrenaline coursed through her body as they both hurriedly fled from the church.

[becauseheartsgetbroken-hs]

baby enemies to lovers stories? i loveeee them, dont know whats wrong with me bestie

nothing is wrong with you babe, you just have taste!

I'm a sucker for a good enemies to lovers story too so dkjhjshdf I'm so happy for this! Anyway let's begin!

My forever and always favorite enemies to lovers story is "404" by my beloved @freedomfireflies When I say I need 404!harry, I couldn't mean it more! I had a dream about him for real 😭 It's so well written and you can literally feel the tension between the two characters. 404!harry is my baby and I want to put him in my pocket and have him there forever. It's everything you could ask for in a story with that trope. 🙌 😍 (personal fav: a-mazing and jealous - I was on my knees)

Also please do yourself a favor and read @harrys-titties "Harry's a dick and Y/N hates him for it". It's really amazing! The way she built their relationship was precious 🥰 And I loved that Harry's best friend was Sarah, it was a beautiful touch. When you will start reading it, you will find yourself unable to put it down. (um also I have the "y/n and harry hate each other, until they don't" in my "to read list" and I'm sure it will be amazing)

Additionally "grumpy h" by my favorite @cupid-styles is *chef's kiss* seriously. I really liked how their dynamic began to change and they were so soft for each other 😇 so cute 🥰 Oh and I almost forgot it! "You're my last shot" is an enemies to lovers story too and believe me it's so sweet, I loved it. I was reading the blurbs until 3 AM in the morning hehe 😇

Of course it's not a proper rec list for enemies to lovers stories if I don't mention "aster" by @moonchildstyles ! It is really good! Like reallyyy good😍 It's the cutest thing ever hdshgjghshjg Now I'm thinking about it, I will reread it 😍 I was obsessed with this the first time I read it.

Also "Ballerina Y/N and Ballerina Harry" by @jawllines ! Oh my God, it's so good! Actually I can't express how good it is, words aren't enough! I just love it. I started rereading it actually the other day and I couldn't stop myself. I have a soft spot for it 😇 Their chemistry is everything! 😍 The characters are amazing and Y/N is a queen! Also Ballerina!Harry is exactly my type so 😇

@be-with-me-so-happily has a great enemies to lovers story too! "Not what we bargained for" is freaking good 😍 Had a great time reading it!

Oh and of course "Harry is Y/N's producer & she doesn't like him" and "Y/N & Harry kind of hate each other but have to walk together in their friends' wedding party" by @0nlythrowharrybeaux ! Her stories are so addictive 😍 Her writting has an incredible flow 😍

One last thing: it's not actually a story but @justlemmeadoreyou ' headcanons are crazy and I guarantee you that the mean!friends with benefits!harry headcanons are so f*cking hot 😱check them out 😍 (also she's making a series based on them, part 1 is out and I'm telling you it's so good! Cant' wait for the next part! - it may be a friends with benefits trope but they started as enemies, they didn't like each other much so yeah that's why I put it here)

I'm 100% sure I'm forgetting many other stories I would love to include in this but I can't think of anything else right now sorry 😭 If something else comes up to my mind, I will add it ❤️ Enjoy ❤️

P.S always grateful to the authors 😊

[gurugirl]

i need some good thigh clenching worthy smut. any recs 😁

I am so behind on so many fics I'm just gonna name drop and you pick what you want. Read the warnings to find out if there's smut - and if so you are guaranteed a good ride! Also check out my #hs fic rec tag!

@0nlythrowharrybeaux @1800titz @cherryjuiceblues @cupid-styles @finelinefae @fkinavocado @freedomfireflies @harrysonlylover @jarofstyles @justlemmeadoreyou @lukesaprince @smuttyaf @stylesharrys @swiftmendeshoran @sykostyles @watchmegetobsessed @wrongplacerighttime

There are TONS of amazing writers out there! I can't name them all but do go through my fic rec tags and check out everything there.

Enjoy love!!

xoxo

[beescake]

EVIL FUCKED UP KARKAT..HEH...JUST A LOOK INTO MY SICK AND TWISTED MIND...

have u read

Thoroughbred - egomaniac - Homestuck [Archive of Our Own]

literally my #1 fave most beloved dvkt fic heheh thanks for the opening! ive been itching for the chance to recc it (even dvkt antis 🫵 ur gonna like this one kisskiss give it a chance)

[smuttyaf]

I Hate You

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰; 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐛𝐨𝐲!𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲. 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞

wc: 5.4k

“If you don’t stop I’m going to jam that pen through your ear.”

That makes the curly brunette man take his thumb off the button, eyes shifting to give a sidelong glance at you, his mouth slightly agape as he takes in the words.

You had enough of the fingers drumming against the wooden table, the shifting around in his seat constantly, and you definitely had it when he begin clicking his pen away as if you weren’t beside him through this whole class.

“I wanna see you try.” He whispers back, his head turning to smirk at you as his pen now taps against the table gently. Oh, did you want to ring your hands around his neck.

Harry Styles, the man on campus that everyone is friends with and the one that has all the ladies gossiping about. Despite him being known for his social life he also was part of a fraternity. They were popular for throwing the most outrageous parties but also pulling the stupidest pranks throughout the year— you absolutely despised them. Sloppy drinking, chain-smoking, and making themselves look like complete idiots streaking during the schools football games.

So when you walked into your English Lit class and your teacher decided to sit you next to each other for the whole semester, you wanted to claw your eyes out. Every class he would come in and purposely let his bag hit your head, his feet kicking the leg of your chair as his knees would dig into your lower back before taking his seat. At first, you paid no mind to it because it was a tight space to fit in, however when it became an everyday occurrence and his sarcastic smile and fake tone of apologies would start you would just roll your eyes.

But, him sitting next you in class wasn’t the worse thing… It was the fact that your dorm roommate was dating one of his fraternity brothers. So nearly every weekend or event that they hosted, you always managed to get dragged along to have him pick on you.

You didn’t like Harry at all. You didn’t like his stupid curls, his laugh, or tattoos that make him look like a unfinished scrapbook, and you definitely did not like the fact that he stares back at you as if you were a joke.

You squint your eyes at him and press your lips together, your fingers that were pressed into the keys of your laptop curling in on themselves as you resist the urge to strike him.

“Easy there,” He chuckles, his eyes flickering to your balled up fists before turning his head towards the teacher, the grey haired man stands in front of the podium making drastic gestures with his hands. “You wouldn’t hurt me, now would you?” Harry questions, his pen going behind his ear as he closes his laptop and notebook, stuffing it into his bag.

Before you know it, Mr. Dawson is announcing the homework for over the weekend while telling everyone he’ll see them Monday. The seat next to you pushes away from the table, and you feel his feet kick your chair and knees dig into your back. Only making your fists grow even tighter, you plant your feet flat on the carpet and push your chair against his bent legs, that makes a groan escape Harry’s lips as you stand with your closed laptop and bag, eyes staring into each other as you look at him amused.

“You wouldn’t hurt me, now would you?” You mock him before tugging off to the library.

Why couldn’t you have one encounter with him were he wasn’t a complete dickhead.

White mini skirt and matching tube top cling to your skin, the pink cropped leather jacket shifted tightly on your shoulders as your feet tip toe towards the mirror to see yourself. You thought you looked stupid, but Faye thought otherwise.

“You need to dress like this more,” She insisted, her brown eyes wide as they scaled your body. You shook your head and groan.

“Like a joke?” You sigh, your head leaning to the side as you looked at your figure. You were never one to dress in revealing clothes, you loved crewnecks and cargo pants, especially your Converses and Vans.

“Hey!” Faye says while giving you a puzzled look.

“You know what I mean, this stuff looks good on you… not me…” You say, body now turning in the mirror to see your side profile.

You had no choice but to dress as if you were a plastic doll. The Barbie movie just recently came out which made Faye’s boyfriend, Niall, think it would be a good idea to throw a party insisting everyone dress up as if they were in “Barbie’s Dream House”. That’s why you’re standing in the mirror, white opened toed heels and curled hair staring back at you as Faye tried to make you look like Biker Barbie.

“You look hot Y/N, don’t overthink it,” She says while taking your shoulders in her hands and shaking you gently, making you let out a nervous laugh.

She’s right, don’t overthink it, you’ll most likely be surrounded by dim lights and drunken bodies that no one will even notice your change of appearance.

However, despite those words that played over and over again in the back of your head, your thoughts begin to fill as you stepped into the house. Each person you passed by, gazing their eyes over your skin, lazy smiles sent your way while winks would drop other times, and you just simply wanted to disappear.

“Let’s go get a drink,” Faye yells in your ear over the pumping music. You nod your head in agreement and made your way into the familiar kitchen.

“Fancy seeing you here!” The usual Irish voice of Niall calls to Faye as he brings her into embrace. You let a small smile slip on your lips before you see Harry next to him with an amused face.

As Faye and Niall chatted with each other while taking red cups apart to pour liquor in, Harry stepped closer to you; his curls are tossed away behind his ears as he had a sleeveless light blue jean jacket with matching pants on, his tattoos exposed and glistening against the lights.

“You look good for once!” He quips, his red cup knocking against his chest. The smile falls from your lips as you send daggers at him.

“Do you ever shut up,” You say, your eyes tearing away from him and to the red cup that Faye hands you.

“Hey! I was being nice for once!” Harry chimed, lips dropping into a pout as you watch his free hand raise to his chest in hurt. Instead, you ignore him and pay attention to whatever Faye was talking about but that doesn’t last long when you feel a finger poke your hip and you’re glaring back at the tattooed man.

“Am I not Kenough?” He questions, and that only makes you snort as a laugh trails out after, understanding his reference. “There it is,” Harry grins as he takes a drink from his cup. You only roll your eyes and focus back on the previous conversation.

“Whatever,” You mutter while taking a sip of your overly strong drink.

Soon that cup turned to four more, the overthinking thoughts about how embarrassing you thought you looked tonight slipped your mind as you were dancing with the cute boy in your Social Science course, your hands wrapped around the nape of his neck as he runts his hips against your backside.

For once, you were actually happy that you came to the party and drunk more than your normal limit. You were fed up with school and with midterms around the corner, you needed this type of fun. As you felt the room beginning to twist in your version, you turn around in Caleb’s hold and let your hands rest along his chest.

“Tired?” He questions, brown eyes peering down at you as his lips tucked into his teeth. You nodded your head in response, your finger tips feeling over his flannel as you lean into him.

“Let’s go upstairs Kels,” Caleb leans down and whispers but that only makes a frown tug on your lips.

“Kels? I’m Y/N.” You state, tone filled with annoyance that the man you had your eyes on in class had his elsewhere. You feel his head move away from your ear, his eyes raking over your face as a goofy grin begins to spread.

“Oh! Y/N! You look so different… you’re not dressed like a boy, I like it!” Caleb says, only making your stomach twist in disgust.

“Yeah…” You say, small smile replacing the frown as you feel yourself step back from his touch. “I’m just gonna go to the washroom,” You rush, tearing away from his hold and not waiting for his response.

You felt your throat begin to swell as you tried to push your way through the mess of people on the makeshift dance floor. You’re not dressed like a boy. Was he serious? That’s what he thought when he saw you? Even the fact that he called you someone else’s name! You wanted to crawl into your bed and die.

Shouts begin to ring out as the floor vibrates, everyone jumping to the party anthem playing which only makes your exit out of the living room worse. You felt your cheeks heat up and tears at the brim of your eyes, just wanting to go to the bathroom as soon as possible to let them escape.

But just your luck, as the chorus rings through the air the floor boards pound under your heels, you feel cool liquid running from your chest to your stomach. Brown booze dripping on the burrowed two piece outfit and at that point you feel your ears burn, and if you could grow horns out of your head you’re sure they would be there.

Your gaze turns away from your sticky stomach and towards the culprit who spilled it on you, your eyes meeting the familiar green ones who sits next to you in English. As your lips press together and your finger nails leave indents in your skin, you watch Harry’s eyes bulge and his mouth drop in complete shock.

“I— I’m so sorry.. I d—didn’t mean too—“

“I hate you.” You spew, cutting him off and giving him an icy glare. Your body immediately brushing past him and traveling upstairs to get away from the party that you now wished you didn’t attend at all.

Of course, Harry had to be the one to top off this moment and ruin your outfit that you know you’d have to pay Faye back for— because this was definitely not coming out. You could handle his kicking and snarky comments, but draw the line at him completely damaging something that didn’t belong to you.

You were pissed, drunk, and wanted to be buried six feet under; but instead you stomped your way up the stairs and into an empty bedroom.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you see the stain taking up the white material, only making your eyes press shut as you feel tears begin to trail down your cheeks. This was so embarrassing; first you’re wearing something you wouldn’t ever step out in, you finally have a moment with the guy you’ve been staring at since the beginning of the semester— just for him to say you dress like a boy! And to top it off, now you have a full cup of god knows what all over you. This night sucked.

“Y/N…” You hear Harry’s voice behind the door with a knock. You open your eyes and roll them, throat letting a sigh slip out as you run your fingers against your cheeks, wiping away the tears.

“What.” You say back, turning around to rest your back against the sink.

“I—I’m being so honest with you, I didn’t mean to spill my drink on you, I promise, it was a mistake.” Harry said behind the door, his voice muffled but you can tell for once he actually sounds sincere, but who knows he also could be faking it to make you feel better.

“Sure Harry,” You called back, hand leaning down as you rake your fingers through your hair, the tear streaks drying on your skin and making your cheeks feel tight when you speak.

With surprise you heard the rumble of the door knob and soon is faced with Harry who actually has a sad look written on his features.

“Ever heard of privacy,” You mutter, your eyes tearing away from his and looking at the white tiled floor.

“It’s my bathroom,” Harry responds, only making you suck in your breath and fingers drum against the porcelain sink, not realizing it was his room you escaped too.

“I’m sorry. I’ll leave.” You rush, eyes still down as you break away from your stance and move towards the door. That only makes Harry stand in front of you and block your movements.

“No it’s okay don’t worry, it’s my fault. Believe me Y/N, I really didn’t mean to fuck up your outfit.” He says, genuinely which makes your gaze tear and lock with his. Your breath catches in your throat because for once he doesn’t have a menacing look.

“Okay.” You say, lips being sucked into your mouth as your stare never wavers.

“L—Let me get you a change of clothes,” Harry urges, his feet stepping back as he makes his way out of the bathroom and walk over to his dresser. This makes you trail behind him as your hands tug at the bottom of the dirty skirt riding up.

“Oh spare clothes of the girls you sleep with, yay,” You sarcastically remarked, heels clicking against the floor boards as you followed him.

“Ha ha.” Harry says, his voice serious as he dug into his top drawer and pulled out a plain black tee. That only makes you chew down on your lip, your fingers taking the garment in your hand, eyes running over how big it is compared to your frame.

“Trust me, everyone will be too drunk to remember what people were wearing tonight,” He spoke, both of his hands going to either side of him as he leans against the dresser, and maybe it’s the alcohol in your system but the way he is against the furniture with his jacket opened displaying his tattoos, has your mind forgetting about his treatment towards you over the past few months.

“I figured,” You mumble as you tear the t-shirt away from your chest and your eyes flicker between it and the brunette before you. “Uh.. can you turn around?” You question while beginning to shrug off the pink leather jacket.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” Harry scoffs while tearing his tattooed arm off the dresser and letting his hand cover his eyes. You scoff while kicking off your heels and tugging the damp clothing off your skin. “What?” Harry counters, you see his eyebrows push together in his palm as he questions your response.

“I just dress like a boy… that’s all. I bet I’m not exactly the girl you look at…” You mumble, the feeling of the clean fabric running down your skin makes your fingers gaze over it.

“I think you dress cute,” Harry confesses. The compliment making your cheeks heat up and your palms grow with sweat. You really shouldn’t even be glowing from his words. This was the guy who tormented you since September; hitting you with his book bag, giving snarky comments and mean jabs. Why are his words making butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“You’re just saying that, let’s not forget what you said in the kitchen…” You respond, leaning down and picking up the drenched clothing and balling them together. “You can look now.” You state, as you see him put his hand down and give you a bright smile. The way he’s acting so different from what you’re use to, maybe it’s the alcohol in both of your systems.

“You know I was just teasing… but why does it even matter?” Harry ask, that only makes your eyes tear away and look at your polished toes running over each other against the dark hard wood.

“It’s nothing… it’s whatever really,” You sigh, fingers now playing with the ends of his shirt.

“Is that what the guy you were dancing with told you?” Harry asks, only making your head snap up and send him questioning gaze.

“You were watching me?” You inquire. His turn to now dip his head down and avoid your eyes.

“I wouldn’t say that… I just noticed, that’s all.” He says, his head swinging a bit as he lifts himself off the dresser and makes a step towards you, his hand taking the wet clothes.

“Promise I’ll get the stain out,” He remarks, a goofy look on his face and that only makes you smirk.

“Make that promise to Faye, not me.”

“Fuck… She’s gonna have me dead.”

The two of you erupting in drunken laughter at the image of Faye seeing her ruined garments, just knowing the screaming match she’ll have with Harry.

“Why can’t you be like this all the time?” You asked, your hand reaching to your chest as you try to regain your breath.

“You’re the one who hates me,” Harry says giving you a pointed look. “You’re the one who’s mean to me.” You remark your chin tilting as you stare up at him.

“You can’t even blame me,” He smiles while rolling his eyes, his arms crossing over each other and the heat of him radiates onto your body. “You’re cute when you’re mad.” His head leaning down and placing a small peck on your lips.

You were stunned in place, your eyes still open as he continues to place small kisses on your lips. As you leaned in closer to him, his hands tore away from his chest to drop the clothes and hold your hips. What the fuck was actually going on right now? You were really kissing Harry and it felt good— you didn’t want to admit.

The peppering kisses turned into lips syncing onto each other, your eyes now fluttering shut while your hands lie on his inked chest. It felt so wrong but the way his lips tasted of cherry coke and rum, you wanted to get drunk off it.

Deep breathes and needy hands were soon shared between the both, your fingers were now running through the hair on the nape of his neck while his roams your backside. The way his huge hands were pushing your cheeks and shoving you closer to him made you wet.

You pulled away from his lips, a string of saliva linking you too together which makes Harry smirk, his eyes glossy and lips bruised red. You wanted to fuck him so bad.

“You’re a shit kisser.” You remark. His smirk falling as his hands tighten around your ass.

“Shut up,” He mutters before pressing his lips roughly against yours, his fingers slipping deeper to cup your bum, some digits gliding over your heat only making you whimper at the touch.

His tongue tangled with yours as his chest closed the space left between you two. Harry’s weight molding onto you as he forces you to take steps back until your knees hit the bed frame and you’re falling back onto the mattress. You let your elbows push you up on the bed, your eyes locking with his as he lowers himself on you, his lips pressing back against you as your thighs bring him in.

His clothed member pushes against your heat which only makes a whimper escape, you still can’t get over that he has his tongue in your mouth but now you’re making him hard. Was this really the same guy you were cussing at just a few hours ago.

Harry’s hands move away from your shoulders and spread to where your thighs hold him, the way his hands feel running down your skin has you pushing yourself deeper into his touch.

“Easy there…” He mutters against your lips when he pulls away, his lips traveling to your neck to then run over your clothed breasts, his eyes looking to yours as his lips gaze your nipples. You wanted to moan at the sight, the way his curls surrounded his face, his green orbs staring back at you while he descended down your body.

“Harry,” You whisper when you feel his breath rush over your stomach, his hands slipping under his shirt and feeling over your hips before playing with the band of your panties.

His response to the call of his name, was peeling the material down your legs and his mouth pressing open kisses onto your hip bone. Your heart beat was making your chest hurt from how nervous yet excited you are; was this really about to happen?

Your question was soon answered when you felt his breath against your heat, his hands pushing the shirt over your hips as you watch his curls brush against your inner thighs when you feel him lick a stripe up your folds. This made you dig your teeth into your bottom lip because, yeah this was happening.

Green eyes looking back at you as his tongue runs back up your slit to let it circle around your clit, lips suckling on the nerves before dangling it with his tongue again. This made your head knock back and your eyes flutter shut, he was teasing you, like he always does.

His mouth repeats those motions as moans tremble from your lips, head resting on your shoulder as you look at him sucking your folds. You let your free hand run through his hair, tugging at it lightly.

“I know you can do better than that.” You remark, eyes batting at him slowly as you push back down on him. In that moment you swear you watched his eyes glaze over a different shade, his hands gripping against your hips roughly as he lets his tongue delve into you.

Thick and slicked with spit his muscle flexed it’s way between your folds, his nose rubbing against your clit as he licked into you, humming against your heat as his nails left indents in your skin. Words can’t even express how it felt, the way his tongue just roamed inside you so wickedly that it had whimpers and moans leave you.

The view of him was even better, his eyes fluttering as he looked like he was pleased with the way you tasted, his hair falling over his forehead. The look of Harry between your legs only makes you moan again and squeeze your thighs against his face, his fingers bruising your skin from how hard he’s holding you.

You let your back completely fall to the mattress, both hands now carding though his hair as you let your hips roll against his mouth, his tongue now lying flat against your heat as he lets you ride him. Hips running up and down the expanse of his muscle, clit smoothing against taste buds as you work yourself on him, Harry’s mouth moaning against your pussy as he peeled his eyes open to stare at you, the sight making you moan immediately.

You were too tipsy to even comprehend that this was actual reality; you were suppose to hate Harry, despise him! Yet, he was between your legs and sending shockwaves throughout your nerves.

Fingers tighten in the curly locks as your hips stutter and jerk on his tongue, the sinking feeling in your abdomen tightens as your orgasm creeps upon you. The feeling of his fingers pushing down on your hips making you seep deeper into the mattress, and moan at the roughness of his touch.

The ball in your stomach begins to build, your chest breathing in shallow breaths as your thighs twitch, his tongue licking you into bliss. Just as you feel the nerves in your stomach nearly burst, the heat of his muscle tears away and makes a cry leave your lips while Harry placed wet kisses up your body.

“You didn’t think I was gonna let you get off this easy,” Harry hums against you, his hands leaving your hips and letting it rake his shirt over your head. They then go to take off his jacket and tug his jeans down, your hands immediately going to peel his boxers down his thighs.

“For someone who hates me so much, you really want my dick right now,” He mutters, his hand going to his exposed member and rubbing himself, the sight making you clench your legs.

Now, you can really see what the girls on your campus were talking about; the way his hair dropped in loose curls surrounding his face, tattoos that flex so nicely in the dim lighting of the room, and the way he’s staring at you like he’s craving you. You finally see it.

Harry lets himself run against your heat, his head lying on your clit and rubbing over it only making you suck in a breath. He was pressed so nice and warm against you while toying with your nerves. Seconds later, he leans down and lets drool slip from between his lips to trace down his dick to drip between your exposed folds. You wanted to look at this sight forever, but you hate the fact that you like this so much but can’t help but too, Harry was hot you had to admit.

The thoughts leave your mind when you feel his head slip into you, edging himself back out slowly before continuing to seep back in. Once again, he was teasing you but you had enough with this game since you just wanted the feeling of him inside you finally.

You let your hands dig into the sheets while moving your hips down on him, his dick slipping deeper into you which only elects moans from both of you. The thickness of him buried around your tight walls sends a blissful sensation of yourself stretching around him, your mouth hangs slightly open while your eyes flutter.

Harry doesn’t take the chance to tease you anymore, instead he slips all of himself inside of you before drawing back slowly and sinking into your dripping pussy. His head leaning down to lay in the crook of your neck and press kisses against the skin there, while he continue to peel his hips back and dive back into you.

“Pussy feels so good,” Harry grunts into your ear as he begins to pick up the pace and smack his hips against yours.

Your eyes peel open and let your hands rest along his ribs, your head knocked back into the pillows and gaze caught between the loose ringlets of his curls and the popcorn ceiling, as the sound of the wetness between your legs is accompanied by the slamming of his hips fills the room. You couldn’t remember the last time you had mind blowing sex like this, it must be months now. But, the wait was definitely worth it, because the feeling of Harry’s dick diving into you while his grunts and moans filled your ear was something that you wanted to last forever.

Yet, you still couldn’t believe it was him doing this to you. You don’t think you’ll ever get over this. The man you’re suppose to hate is filling your walls and captivating every cell in your body to fall under his spell.

“You fill me up so—“ You’re words being cut off when you feel Harry pull himself out until his head is breached and thrust back into you, the motions repeating themselves which only makes your mouth hang open and your nails sink into his skin.

Completely cut off guard by the change of his rhythm, you were starstruck. Your eyes fluttering close and letting him do absolutely whatever he wanted to you, just accepting the fact that he was digging into you so deliciously that you had no words to express what you were feeling.

The smell of rum and cherry fills your nose as you feel his lips link with you, his mouth moaning when your tongues lock together, hips never stopping their tantalizing movements. The feeling of him filling up your pussy with his thickness, the way you managed to become more wet by the different flow of his hips, the way his body heat covered you like a blanket.

The familiar feeling of your climax welcomes you again as Harry keeps on thrusting himself inside of you. The ball in your stomach, unraveling with each stroke only making your thighs clench tighter and pull him into you more.

“Mhm… you like me fucking you?” Harry breathes against your lips only making you cry out in frustration as you feel yourself beginning to come apart underneath him, and the fact that he’s talking to you like this is only bringing it on even more.

You nodded your head silently, eyes fluttering open to peer into his olive ones while his bushy eyebrows were knit together.

“Answer me,” He continues his hand that was by your head wrapping around your throat and you knew just by the feeling of his fingers against the skin there, you were done.

“Yes,” You cried out, eyes never tearing away as you felt the bundle of nerves in your stomach burn inside you. Your legs shaking, thighs wrapping tighter around him and nails now dragging down his sides tiredly as the feeling of pure euphoria washes over you.

Harry thrusts however never slowed down, he kept the rhythm while staring down at you, his teeth biting down on his bottom lip as he watched your face go through phases of pleasure. Your fingers leave his back and trail to his neck, legs hanging loosely around him while you stare back up at him, the beating in your heart slowing down compared to the way it was erratically beating before.

“You’re so hot when you come all over me,” He mutters, his head dipping down and now sucking bruises onto your skin. Butterflies spread in your stomach and to stop a smile from forming you bite the inside of your cheek.

His hips begin to slow, breath blowing over you shallowly and the feeling of him sliding between your walls steadily, only making you crane your neck to the side to get him to look at you. Harry tears his head away from your neck, his lips stuck between his teeth and brows still furrowed.

“Fuck,” He grunts, the feeling of him buried in your heat immediately withdrawn as his warm seed spills on your stomach. You watch his chest heave up and down as he regains his breath. Soon, the warmth of him leaves your body as you watch him sit back on his knees, his arm reaching over to his discarded shirt you once wore and wiping away the fluid.

“Seems like you just make a mess everywhere you go,” You remark, that only makes Harry let out a small laugh before tossing his shirt on the floor. He tugs his boxers over his hips and kicks the rest of his jeans off, you let yourself slip into the sheets while he lies next you.

The room grows quiet, the only sound being heard is the party downstairs. Now your thoughts run wild, you’ve sobered up a bit but still in a daze, wondering if Harry is regretting what just happened.

“Are you going to go back to hating me after this?” Harry asked, his voice deep as he turned to look you.

Fingers twisting together, you let your gaze turn away from him and look at the sheets before you. If you were being honest, you were more confused then anything about what this meant and how you felt towards him now; you couldn’t explain how you felt, still stuck between the way he treated just hours before to how he made you feel just minutes ago, how can you explain what you feel?

“You’ll just have to wait and see…”

[harryistheonlyoneforme]

the things id give to live this life😓💔

hi! not sure if you’re accepting requests right now but you can kindly ignore this ask if you aren’t! i was hoping if you could write a blurb with famous harry and a twitch gamer y/n, thank you so much!

I Don’t Like This Game!

Okay first of all, THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS IN. @atharryshouse and I were literally just kind of talking about this so this is extremely funny to me. Hope this is okay!

Warnings- Horror game, possible curse words, mentions of death.

>>>—————————->

“Yeah, okay. I’ll do it.”

I get flustered and I start to argue with him.

“Come on Harry, plea- wait what? You’ll do it?!”

He laughs and nods before he pulls me into his arms.

“I know it’s important to you and how bad can it really be?”

I smile and peck his lips before running into my office to set up.

After ages of asking, Harry has finally agreed to stream with me on twitch and I know just the game to play.

I get my camera situated and I start the stream.

“Welcome back my little lovelies! Today we’ve got a lot in store! But first, I’d like to welcome a very, very special guest, aka, it’s time for a boyfriend reveal! Harry! Come in here please!”

Harry walks in and sits in the gaming chair next to me, smiling into the camera. The chat immediately blows up.

Markimoooooo: OH MY GOD IS THAT- ERROR 404

Irish-coffee-potato: HARRY FREAKING STYLES?!

Narrygrl4life: I KNEW IT!

Fran-Bow’s-Cat: FINALLY! I THOUGHT THIS WOULD NEVER HAPPEN

Ethanscrank: THE WATERMELON GUY?!

Harry and I laugh at the comments and I hug his arm as I read them a little bit before I decide to get started.

“Okay my lovelies! As I said, we’ve got a lot in store for today’s stream! Today, we will be playing… H can I get a drumroll?”

Harry smiles and starts pounding on my desk lightly in a rhythm.

“We’re playing The Mortuary Assistant! Literally one of the most requested games on my channel!”

Harry looks at me, an eyebrow raised.

“You said we were going to be playing Animal Crossing, Y/N..”

I shrug and smile.

“Yeah well I changed my mind. Anyways! To the game! Now I played the demo and I absolutely loved it! Harry, any thoughts on what this could be about?”

He lets out a sigh and gives me a knowing look.

“It’s a horror game, isn’t it?”

I just shrug and smile.

“Guess you’ll have to wait and find out. Now I’m gonna let you start since I’ve already kind of played it, that way you get your feet wet.”

He nods and takes the mouse and the keyboard, placing it closer to him. He starts a new game and the dialogue begins to play.

“So.. I just need to find her keys? I’ve literally checked every place that makes sense and I can’t find them.”

I snort and shake my head.

“If I’ve learned one thing about playing games, check everywhere and everything.”

He continues to search for the keys and after a hilarious 10 minutes, he finds them and I let out a loud laugh, which earns me a glare.

“You knew where they were, didn’t you, Y/N?!”

“I’m sorry, H! I wasn’t sure if it was the same place as the demo! And I saw them so I thought you would’ve too! I didn’t think it would take you 10 minutes!”

He rolls his eyes playfully and continues to follow the instructions, collecting the materials he needs. He enters the office and jumps when he hears a sound come from another room in the game.

Y/Nisthequeen69: Does Harry not like horror? He seems easily frightened.

I shake my head, laughing as I enter the question.

“It depends how scary it is. When we watched the Last of Us, he hid his head in my shoulder a few times. He’s my cute little scaredy cat, aren’t you bubs?”

Harry rolls his eyes and nudges me with his shoulder. Harry continues to play, his eyes widening at the dialogue.

“Possession?! And I can’t leave! What in the hell kind of game is this, Y/N?!”

I snort and shrug. He continues to listen and shake his head.

“Demonic Possession, Y/N? Are you kidding? Why would you put me through this?!”

The comments blow up again and I snort as I read them.

“Narrygrl4life says ‘that’s not very TPWK of you, Y/N’. Please! He’ll get over it! I’ve seen Love Actually 16 times because of him! I feel like this is my payment!”

Harry rolls his eyes and moves the gurney into the body chamber, but he jumps when the lights flicker.

“Jesus!”

“Harry, calm down!”

He moves a body back into the embalming room when the lights go out again.

“Y/N, I don’t like this game! Take over please for the love of god!”

I laugh and shake my head.

“You’re doing fine, bubs. It’s just a game, remember? Nothing can hurt you. I’m right here.”

He nods and takes a deep breath before he keeps going. He moves into the office and the room becomes blurry and voices can be heard, making me laugh.

“You’re sadistic, Y/N. Making me play this. I’m going to try to leave.”

He makes his way back out to the car in the parking lot and attempts to start it. The car stalls and refuses to starts and suddenly, in the doorway of the mortuary, a shadow of a person appears, making Harry curse.

“Fuck I hate this game so much! Why did I let you talk me into this?!”

I laugh and shake my head, kissing his shoulder.

“It’s gone now, Harry. Just go back inside. I’ll help you with the possessions.”

He sighs and gets out of the car, heading back inside and into the embalming room. He continues to follow the instructions and he seems to remain calm.

“What was that? Why was there a knock at the door? I’m the only one here…”

He hesitantly moves the mouse around and I just shrug.

“Don’t worry about it. Keep going, you’re doing great babe.”

He starts to embalm the body and he freaks out a little.

“Is this how people are embalmed?! This is horrible! Needles to keep the jaw shut?! Your sister really does this?!”

I laugh and hug his side.

“Honestly I don’t know. But god I’m definitely getting cremated. This is horrible.”

He nods in agreement and squeaks a little when a possessed body pops up out of nowhere.

“Y/N!”

I roll my eyes and I wrap an arm around him.

“Calm down. He’s not gonna hurt you, big baby. Keep going. You need to drain her blood.”

He focuses for another 20 minutes or so, cringing every now and then at the detailed graphics of the body.

“Y/N… did you see that? There’s something outside. You saw that, right?”

I shake my head, holding back a laugh.

“I think it’s just a figment of your imagination.”

He glares at me and moves on to the next body.

>>>————————->

“Okay it’s too peaceful right now and it’s too suspicious. I don’t like this. Wait no- things look nuts and the phone is ringing. I’m not supposed to trust the phone-.”

I look at the screen and narrow in, trying to see clearly.

“Is that what I think it is?”

A body appears to be floating in the flooded kitchen, and it’s body starts to rise.

“ You did this to me. This is all your fault-.”

The body jumps out of nowhere and the room goes red and dark, Harry jumping in his seat.

“Jesus fuck! I hate this game, Y/N! Hate it!”

I let out a snort and shake my head.

“H, are you waving a white flag?”

Harry lightly drops his head onto the desk before he sits up.

“Yes. Please for the love of god. I’m about to lose it.”

I laugh again and shake my head as he gets up from his chair and climbs on top of me, his back to the camera as he hugs me tight.

“You owe me for this, love. A romcom marathon. Tomorrow.”

I laugh and pat his back before he gets up again, sitting back in his chair. I take over playing, Harry jumping in his seat every now and then until I find a good place to stop.

“Okay lovelies! So this was- interesting. Harry? Did you like the game?”

He glares at me and shakes his head.

“You’ve done me dirty, Y/N.”

I shrug and smile.

“Thanks for watching guys! Since this one is home from tour, he’s gonna be playing with me more! Stay tuned for our next game; Five Nights at Freddy’s Security Breach: Ruin!”

“Y/N! No more horror games! No.”

“Oh Harry, calm down. FNAF is literally for babies. Just jump scares and robots.”

“I don’t like these games!”

>>>————————->

Thank you so much for requesting!!! I absolutely loved writing this and I hope it was okay!!! Please feel free to tell me what you thought!!!

Please like and reblog and check out my other writings!

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