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I need a breeding kink blurb PLS 🙏🙏🙏

⛔️ WARNING ‼️ SMUTTY SMUT BREEDING KINK SIZE KINK ALL THE KINK (enjoy 🤭) + plus a link to an audio porn on tumblr to really get into that wet pussy sound 🙈 I'm so sorry in advance but I am in fact ovulating according to my calculator and this was... Anyway there's no plot, this is basically only smut. PLEASE DON'T READ IF YOU'RE NOT INTO THIS KIND OF THING THANK YOU

587 words

😈😈😈😈

"Oh baby... look a'you... getting stuffed so deep. Loves getting her little pussy filled up and bred yeah? Need Daddy's come honey? Need me to put more babies in this belly? Fuck you til your tummy's swollen, your tits are full of milk, and pussy ruined?"

"Mmm..." you tried moaning but you were out of breath and your gargled noises were stifled by the way he was plowing into you, long and heavy strokes that dipped into your guts and punched the air from your lungs. All you could do was lie there with your legs spread apart as he fucked the life from you. His fat cock was making your walls ache he'd been going at if for so long.

"Can't speak, little mama? Don't want the kids to hear do we? That's right... just let daddy fuck you til your come hole is full of my sperm and let it sink in deep so I can knock you up over and over again. Likes her pussy stuffed with cock and come and her womb full of babies..."

Harry loved it when you were pregnant. You already had two kids and he was raring to go for a third. But so were you. You loved watching him be a dad. And you'd love to see him holding another tiny baby again - your tall, tattooed, and strong husband holding that delicate bundle against his chest with tears in his eyes, humming a tune and swaying slowly back and forth. Just for that, you'd give him as many babies as he wanted.

"Already had you stuffed with all my cream this morning, now here you are all sweaty and gagging for more. Fucking need it don't you? Gonna take my come honey? Little mama wants it, yeah?"

You could barely nod but you managed to knock your head back and forth. You were exhausted after he'd already given you two orgasms but now you could feel him coming to his end, his arms were shaking and his thrusts were getting sloppy with that big cock twitching as he stretched your walls. His impressive size was addicting.

"You ready? Think you can take another load?"

"Mmmm..." a pathetic wet mumble fell from your lips as Harry choked out a groan, trying to keep quiet so as not to wake the kids and you felt him throb and throb as he dropped his mouth open wide and pasted his hips against yours, unloading hours and hours worth of vital come into your womb, his balls emptying every drop inside of you.

You were very much done for by the time he pulled out but Harry wasn't. He angled your hips up with a heaving chest and stuffed himself back inside, holding his shaft to keep steady as he fucked his come into you, "There we go. Let's get that all in there," he watched as he dipped inward, keeping you full of his sperm, wet squelches (NSFW LINK - opens up a tumblr audio porn, no visuals 😈) coming from your pussy with the way he was plunging back into you to make sure his come didn't leak out, "Get that pussy fed and happy," he hissed as he pumped in gently, his cock sensitive to the touch after his orgasm.

He enjoyed the view of it... your shiny puffy pussy wrapped around his thick shaft as he pushed his come back inside you until he couldn't stay hard any longer. You were sure that was baby number three.

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Pillow Talk*

Summary: The one where you and Harry both have insomnia, and decide to spend one very strange night together.

Word Count: 7.2k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, daddy kink, mentions of drugs, angst (w/ happy ending!), not suitable for Ramadan!

“Oh, absolutely not.”

“Come on. Just one time.”

“No. Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Probably. I haven’t slept in 32 hours.”

You huff as you hide yourself behind your door. You don’t even want to see him. Because you don’t want to have this conversation or entertain this idiotic idea. This is what Harry does. He plays games. He tricks and he ruins and if you open this door, you know you’ll regret it. 

“Poppy, please,” he calls, and you hear his forehead land on the wood as though to brace himself. “I’ve tried everything else, okay? It always works with you. I just…I wanted to try. See if it still does.”

You frown. “You realize how wildly inappropriate this is, right? Asking if you can come in just so we can sleep together?”

“Yeah, but that’s all I want to do. Sleep,” he insists again. “Really. I’ll keep my hands to myself and I won’t even talk to you.”

You consider this. Truthfully, you haven’t slept all that well since the breakup, either. And sure, you’ve longed for the nights when the two of you would fall into such an easy, simple, and incredibly effective routine. 

But he broke your heart. And now you’re both paying the price.

“Just one night,” he pleads again. “And if it doesn’t work, I swear I won’t bother you ever again.”

There’s a subtle ache in your chest. Just hearing his voice reminds you of the pain. Of the joy. Of every good moment and every bad one, all wrapped up in the same silky cadence.

You take a deep breath. Perhaps you’re curious, too. Even if you don’t want to be. Because maybe this will work. Maybe you’ll finally be able to rest and get on with your life.

Or maybe it won’t.

But at least if it doesn’t, maybe you can find some closure.

So, with that thought…you open the door. 

He looks worse than you’ve ever seen him. Which makes you just a touch happy if you’re being honest with yourself. His usual curls are askew and unkept. The bags under his eyes are dark and his clothes are wildly wrinkled.

And you’re surprised. He’s been up for longer than 32 hours before and handled it much better. You wonder if his age is catching up with him or if there’s something else keeping him awake.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

But you don’t fight with him. He’s not here to fight and you accept his terms as you widen the door and allow him to step inside.

He nods gratefully as he slips into your living room, but his eyes linger on your face. Almost like he doesn’t recognize you, and it makes your insides turn as you shut the door and put a few feet between you.

“What?” you huff.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know, you look…different.”

“Okay…?”

“You changed your hair.”

“Yeah.”

“Hm. It’s nice.”

You cross your arms. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Another pause, and the silence feels heavy.

“Well…do you wanna…?” you eventually say, and he nods.

“Right, yeah.”

“Okay.”

You turn to lead him to your room and it’s…unsettling how normal it feels. Like an old habit rearing its ugly head once again.

When you get there, his surprise returns. “You changed your room, too.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Why?”

Your eyes roll as you angrily toss your blankets back. “This is the one room I associated with you the most. And short of moving, I needed something you hadn’t touched or tainted. So I made the room mine again.”

He thinks about this, attention lingering on the new paint on the walls and the new furniture in each corner. “I like it.”

“I don’t care.”

He smiles. “I know.”

“Great. Can you get in the bed please so we can get this over with?”

Obliging, he slips off his shoes and joins you under the duvet. “Never thought I’d hear you say that again.”

“Never thought I’d have to say it.”

“Mm. You changed your mattress.”

“Obviously.”

“And the sheets and blankets, too.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Is there anything in here you didn’t change?”

“The carpet. But only because my landlord said I couldn’t.”

“Right.” He’s smiling again. “But you did get a rug.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice.”

“Bite me.”

He laughs now and you want to smack him. “I see you still get grumpy when you’re tired.”

“No, I get grumpy when my asshole of an ex shows up to my apartment at 3 in the morning demanding to be let in so he can sleep in my bed with me like a fucking child,” you argue. And you know you’re being snippy and maybe even rude, but he deserves it. After everything he’s put you through, you deserve to be in charge of your own emotions. 

You turn the lamp off and the dark room grows incredibly quiet. You’re both stiff, unable to relax when you’re this close. You don’t want to touch—not the way you used to. And you don’t want to be close or let your guard down, although you suppose you’ll have to in order to sleep.

And then he says, “I really did try, you know. To find another way to sleep.”

You look up at the ceiling and release a soft exhale. “Okay.”

“Melatonin, light therapy, cut out coffee. Even drank those…sleep mocktail things everyone talks about.” He shifts. “I don’t know, I guess my brain just wouldn’t turn off.”

“Yeah. I know.”

More quiet.

“I haven’t done any since we broke up,” he finally says. Gentle, like he’s afraid to break the silence. 

Your lashes flutter. He doesn’t have to say it for you to know what he means. “Great.”

“Yeah.” Another beat. “I thought it was work, I guess. Maybe the stress or something. I’ve been sleeping fine, but these past couple weeks…”

“Right.”

“And I just figured—”

“No, I got it. It’s fine, let’s just…let’s just try to sleep,” you say and he nods.

The bedroom settles and you try, you really do. But you can’t when he’s breathing so goddamn loud and shifting every two seconds and sighing like he’s in pain.

“What?” you eventually hiss.

“Are you dating someone?” he asks.

“What?”

“Are you dating someone?” he repeats. “Josie said you were.”

You hesitate. “I don’t know. Kind of. I guess.”

“You guess?”

“We’re…we’ve been on a few dates. It’s not official.”

“He hasn’t asked you to be his girlfriend?”

“Why does it matter?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t. I just figure you deserve someone that actually wants to date you.”

“Oh, do I?” You roll your head to look at him. “Funny, you didn’t seem to think so when you were dating me.”

“All right, touché,” he mumbles. “I could have been better, I know that. And I know I took advantage. You did a lot for me and I didn’t…I didn’t care.”

Surprised, you twist your fingers together. “Uh…yeah. Right. Thank you.”

His head rolls, too. And even with the dim-light, his eyes find yours. “I’m sorry, Poppy. You really did deserve better than me. And if you found it with this guy…I’ll be happy for you.”

You swallow before sighing to yourself. “I mean, I don’t know if I did. He’s…he’s really nice. But he’s so…he’s just…”

“Vanilla?”

Your eyes widen. “Yeah. How did you—”

“He was wearing Crocs with tube socks.”

You laugh—loud. “Oh my god, how did you know?”

“I might have looked him up,” he admits through a grin. “Wanted to make sure he was worth your time.”

“Yeah? And?”

“And he wears Crocs with tube socks. He can’t make you cum.”

Your features scrunch together as you gasp and look away. “Ew, Harry. It’s not about that—”

“It’s always about that. Come on, am I wrong?”

“You—yes. What he wears has nothing to do with what he’s like in bed—”

“So he’s not vanilla?”

“He’s…” You pause. “He…look, he really tries—”

“So, he is,” Harry finishes for you. “Well, at least you got some.”

“I…yeah. Uh-huh.”

Instantly, he turns onto his side, head resting in the palm of his hand as he studies you. “He couldn’t get it up, could he?”

“Harry,” you groan, and reach out to swat him. “Stop, it wasn’t that. We just…we were taking things slow. We did some stuff. Just not…all of it.”

“So what he’d do?”

“Harry—”

“Come on, we’re adults, just tell me.”

“Ew, no—”

“Listen, you used to get fucked good. I’m just trying to help you get back to that.”

You frown but do oblige. “I don’t know. He ate me out and I blew him. That’s it.”

“And…?”

“And…I don’t know. He was fine. He was good.”

“Sure.”

Your eyes roll. “Okay, he…he wasn’t really all that into it. He stopped after a few seconds and asked if I came. Then he said his jaw was tired and that maybe we should just switch.”

Now, Harry’s features scrunch, too. “Shit. What a fucking pussy. Ironically.”

“I guess. It could have been worse.”

“Really? Eating you out was always my favorite. What kind of asshole just stops if he doesn’t have to?”

You feel a rush of heat through your body as you look away. “I guess they can’t all be you.”

“Damn fucking right,” he scoffs. “Seriously, you still wanted to see him after that?”

“He’s cute,” you argue. “And nice. And yeah, maybe he’s not that adventurous but that’s okay. I don’t need wild sex all the time.”

He’s quiet. “How about just one time?”

You turn back. “What?”

“I—okay, I was just thinking…you know, one of the things we would do when we couldn’t sleep was…fuck, so—”

“Oh, absolutely not.” You sit up, as though to put some distance between you. “No. Forget it—”

“Poppy—”

“Don’t call me that,” you huff. “You don’t get to call me that ever again. Okay, I’m not gonna fuck you just so we can sleep—”

“It wouldn’t be just for that,” he argues, sitting up as well. “It would also help your mood, too—”

“Oh, my mood?” You glare at him. “My mood is just fine, actually. In fact, I’d say it’s pretty good if I agreed to let you in my apartment in the first place—”

“You didn’t have to. I’m just saying, if sex with him is gonna be bland, might as well get in one last good fuck before you commit to a lifetime of boring—”

“Oh, my god. It’s not a lifetime and you’re a fucking asshole—”

“Yeah. We’ve established that. Doesn’t change the fact that you need it.”

You stare at him. “Is that why you’re really here? To trick me into sleeping with you?”

He leans back. “What? No. I don’t trick people into having sex, it was just a suggestion—”

“Yeah, a pretty dumb one. Did you honestly think I’d say yes?”

“Yeah,” he admits haughtily. “Yeah, because we didn’t break up over the sex. We broke up because you’re an uptight—”

“What? Say it,” you sneer. “Say it. I’m an uptight bitch because I wouldn’t let you do cocaine.”

He scoffs again and looks off into the dark of your room. The argument lulls. “I could never do anything right.”

“That wasn’t the problem and you know it.” You pull your legs to your chest. “I wanted to move forward and you kept going back. You’re almost 30 and you still act like you’re 19.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to get married and do the whole white picket fence life,” he says. “Maybe I liked things the way they were—”

“No. No, you liked parties with your friends and doing drugs that kept you up for hours  and getting fired and leaving me to pay all the bills—”

“You didn’t pay all the bills and I told you I would do what I could to help—”

“Yeah. But apparently that included getting fucked up and staying out all night just to crash the next day.” You study him closely. “You were never around anymore. I never saw you. We were on two different paths and the only time we ever talked was when you asked if I wanted to fuck.”

“So, that’s it, huh? I’m just a villain in your story. You were this perfect fucking princess, and I was a monster that ruined your life?”

“No, obviously not. I wasn’t perfect. I know that.”

“Do you?” His eyes flick between yours. “You didn’t want me to move forward with you. You liked your new job and your new friends because they didn’t remind you of me. Of who we both used to be.”

“So? I’m not proud of what I used to do. And sure, maybe I wanted to make a better impression on the people paying my salary and keeping me employed. Is that such a fucking crime?”

“No. But you didn’t want me to be a part of that impression and you know it.”

“Right. Because you were shit-faced all the time.”

He opens his mouth, ready to retort. But then he closes it. He closes it and he stares at you and then…he surges forward.

Even if you were given at least two seconds to prepare, you’re not prepared for the way his hands feel on your cheeks as he kisses you. As he presses his lips to yours and steals the labored breaths in your lungs.

But you don’t fight him. You know you should. Know you should push him off and berate him. Yet you let him kiss you. And you kiss him back. And it’s far too easy to slip back into this routine as his tongue slides against yours in such a teasing way.

Your stomach flips while your hands land on his lap. You’re desperate to be closer, to feel his body against yours. His skin, and the way it melts beneath your palms like butter. You dance this devious dance and before you know it, you’re stripping each other of the few clothes you have.

He starts with your shirt. Ripping it over your head before his mouth lands on your chest. Bare and beautiful to him. His kisses are wet and sloppy and you arch yourself closer as you drag your fingers down his scalp.

The only reason he stops is to let you peel his t-shirt off, too. And then his jeans and socks. And you move so fluidly, you’re nearly naked in under a minute. The only thing left between you now his underwear and yours.

He lays you down, gentle. Surprisingly gentle, given the anger that brought you here. And he gazes at you in a soft, unspoken way that says everything you don’t exactly know how to say. 

His fingers brush down your cheek as his body settles atop yours. He still fits between your legs like he was always meant to and the weight of him almost feels good.

“Are you all right?” he finally whispers, and he doesn’t sound like the same man from before. He sounds like the man you fell in love with. “Is this okay?”

You nod quickly, scared that if you think about it, you’ll ruin it. “Yeah. Go.”

He doesn’t. “We don’t have to,” he says. “You were right, it’s probably a dumb idea—”

“Yeah, but…it always works.” You shift beneath him and reach for his briefs, rolling them down his hips. “And I’m tired. Tired of fighting with you, tired of not getting any sleep…tired of pretending I hate you. You were right, our sex is good. So let’s do it. And then we can sleep. And we can finally move on.”

Not the most romantic of speeches, but it works. At least right now. He kisses you again and drags your underwear aside in order to tease you with the tip of his cock.

He feels like you remember. And maybe you find just a touch of comfort in that. There are no awkward pauses or confusion about what to do next. You don’t have to find your rhythm or anticipate the next step. You know him. And he knows you.

Your rub your clit in order to stimulate yourself. You aren’t exactly wet enough for this to be enjoyable, but you don’t expect him to do what he did before. The foreplay is up to you now and you’re more than all right with that.

However, he’s not. And he instantly swats your hand away in order to do it himself. Allowing his fingers to drag up and down your pussy until you shiver before he slips the tip of his middle finger inside.

“Shit,” he whispers. His forehead drops to yours. “Fucking missed this.”

You bite the inside of your lip to keep from grinning. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He starts to pump, bending your body to his salacious intentions until the unmistakable sound of wetness echoes throughout the room. “I know you missed it, too.”

“Hm. Don’t push it.”

“Why not?” He presses a kiss to your cheek. Then to your jaw. Your lips. Your nose. Your neck. Everywhere you used to love. “Are you really gonna tell me you didn’t?” 

“Maybe.”

“So Crocs with Tube Socks is better, huh?”

“…not exactly.”

“Right.” He adds a second finger and your eyes roll back. “Don’t worry, Poppy, I’ll fix it.”

“Don’t…call me that,” you pant again, and he chuckles.

“Don’t know what else to call you. You were always my pretty Poppy.”

“But now I’m not,” you say. “Now you call me nothing. Because I’m not yours to call.”

He sighs but does seem to obey, at least for now. And the faster he thrusts his hand, the needier this growing feeling becomes. Stronger and louder until you finally grab onto his shoulders and say, “Just put it in already.”

He smirks. “How romantic.”

“It’s not supposed to be. Just come on.”

So, he does. He takes hold of his cock and he slips it through the gathering arousal until he can push in. And you both reel.

Truthfully, you’ve missed the sounds he makes when he’s turned on. The way he groans and grits his teeth together. The way the muscles in his arms strain until you can see those beautiful veins you used to love to run your tongue over. 

He’s stunning. Even now, in the soft light of the moon through your curtains. His silhouette is unholy as it hovers above you. Strong hips beginning to thrust as you both work in tandem to find release.

And it’s closer than you expected. There’s something about him that can get you there even without much effort. Something Crocs with Tube Socks could never seem to figure out. 

Because he’s not Harry. And only Harry can play you like an instrument and make such symphonic music all with the flick of his finger and a thrust of his cock.

He kisses you again and you both feel anxious. Soft murmurings of praise and, “Keep going,” that have you arching from the bed and moaning into his mouth.

You’re sweating and gasping for air and clutching onto his back as you attempt to meet his rhythm with rolls of your own. You need this. You need to cum so you can find release and you need to cum so you can finally sleep and you need to cum because then you’ll finally be able to let him go. To close the door on the chapter of you and Harry and move the fuck on.

But how can you move on when you’re still under him? How can you insist that you’re fine and doing great if you’re so easily convinced to fuck him just so you can both get some sleep?

There are other remedies to insomnia that don’t involve his cock and maybe you should have tried that before you let him into your apartment. 

Either way, you’re coming before you can think twice about it. Raking your nails down his back and whimpering his name as he pulls out and finishes on your thigh. 

And just like that…

It’s over.

You find him in the kitchen about an hour later. You managed to sleep at least a few minutes before you felt the sadistic hand of insomnia pull you back out. But when you woke, Harry was gone. His clothes were still on the floor, so you knew he hadn’t left. But he wasn’t with you.

He’s staring out your kitchen window when you slip into the living room. You’re not sure if he hears you or not but if he does, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he keeps himself braced against the sink, clad in nothing more than his briefs.

Curious, you call, “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. Silent. Contemplative. “I used to love this window,” he eventually says. Soft, like he’s reminiscing. “The way the light looked in the morning. The way your little crystals would put rainbows on the wall and you’d get so excited. How you’d make me dance with you to some Elton John song while we were literally in the middle of cooking.”

You blink. “Um…okay.”

He turns and his eyes find yours. “I fucking loved this apartment. And this kitchen. And that couch. And your room. And even the hallway. I loved being here, all the time. I hated going back to my place because it never felt the same.”

The silence grows louder now as you look down at your feet and pull your robe just a bit tighter. “I know,” you finally whisper. “That’s why I changed it.”

“I know,” he whispers back. His expression falls. “You changed everything. This apartment, your life…us.”

“Because I had to,” you argue, glancing back up. “I had to, Harry. I couldn’t keep going in circles. I couldn’t drag you along behind me into the future when you clearly wanted to be anywhere else.” 

“Because the future you always painted didn’t seem to have room for me,” he huffs. “Okay, with all these dinner parties and fancy houses and good school districts. You’d planned out the next 30 years and I didn’t see myself anywhere in your picture.”

“I didn’t fucking care about the parties or the school districts,” you nearly yell. “God, I—I didn’t want the white picket fence life. I didn’t want the 1950’s American Dream shit you keep thinking I did. I just wanted you. Yes, I wanted a good job with insurance and stability. But I wasn’t gonna trade what we had just for that—”

“But you did. You didn’t tell your parents we’d moved in together. You didn’t even tell half of our friends. You went on trips without me and you stopped telling me about your day and we never talked—”

“Because you were never around! You were either out with your friends getting drunk or high or you were in there playing video games because you’d had a ‘hard day.’ So, no. I didn’t want to talk to you when I knew you weren’t even listening in the first place.”

 He leans against the counter and crosses his arms. Angry. Indignant. “You resented me. You resented the fact that we were together and you resented that I wasn’t perfect like your precious new friends—”

“Oh, that’s—” You pinch the bridge of your nose and force in a deep breath. “No. I didn’t want you to be like them. I didn’t want you to act pretentious and stuffy and talk about the stock market every goddamn second of the day. The only thing I resented…was the fact that you wouldn’t take care of yourself.”

“I was taking care of myself—”

“Bullshit. You were doing drugs—you were doing cocaine—and you weren’t eating, you weren’t sleeping, you nearly drunk yourself to death—”

“Right, but I wasn’t doing it all the time. It was just…it was occasionally, and it wasn’t a lot—”

“I don’t care. You shouldn’t have been doing it at all, Harry,” you finally shout. “You…you scared the shit out of me. Every time one of your friends would call and say you were passed out, I thought…I thought this was it. I thought I was gonna lose you. Do you know how many times I just sat on the floor and cried because I was so scared? Because you never wanted to listen when I told you to stop? Because you were so sure you were invincible?”

He seems pained by this, features wilting as he takes a tentative step forward. But he stops when you move back. “Poppy, I wasn’t trying to scare you, I…I didn’t know—”

“Yes, you did,” you scoff. “I told you, over and over that I didn’t want to lose you, but you thought I was being dramatic.”

He nods once. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“Yeah. I am.” He looks at you. “S’why I stopped after we broke up. You were right, I needed to get my shit together.”

You nod, too. “Good. I’m glad.”

His gaze dances around the kitchen. “I hate that you changed everything,” he says again, and your heart wrenches. “I hate that it doesn’t look like it used to. I hate that I hurt you so bad that you felt like you had to erase everything I ever touched.”

You step closer and wipe a tear from your cheek. “Yeah, I hate it, too. I hate that I had to. I hate that stupid mattress and I hate that my kitchen doesn’t look like a rainbow anymore and I really fucking hate that I have no one to dance with when I cook.”

His eyes soften as they find yours and in only a few seconds, he’s reaching for the belt on your robe and tugging you to him. Wrapping you in his arms as he presses you against his chest, the way he always used to when you were sad.

“No,” you argue weakly, although you do nothing to stop him. “No, you can’t…you can’t—”

“Yes, I can,” he retorts quietly. You feel his lips press to the top of your head. “You don’t get to cry over me anymore. You’re better than that now. You did what I couldn’t. You moved on. And I don’t get to ruin that for you.”

You sniffle as you run your hand down his stomach. “It wasn’t about moving on. I just needed to learn how to be strong enough for both of us.”

“Poppy,” he breathes and holds you tighter. “You shouldn’t have to be.”

And deep down…you know he’s right.

“Shit, just like that…a little closer. Good girl, hold yourself open for me, baby. Yeah.”

Doing your best to oblige, you slip your fingers between your folds as Harry nudges his nose closer. Kissing his way along your thighs before allowing his tongue to lick a very generous stripe up your pussy.

Round 2 is on the couch. Harry wanted the kitchen counter—nearly insisted on it, in fact—but you knew you didn’t want to ruin your favorite breakfast spot. And you weren’t about to just for him.

So, the couch it was. He complained about it as you got settled. He hates this new couch, too. The color, the lumpy cushions, the way it feels like you’re sinking when you sit. 

You told him you didn’t care. You loved it and if it annoyed him, that was a bonus.

Thankfully, he swallowed his complaints in favor of swallowing you. He tossed your robe open and pulled your thighs apart. And then he buried himself between the warmth of your pussy the way he always used to.

And you decided that maybe you don’t mind insomnia so much if this is the remedy.

“Missed this, too,” he says now as he nips at your clit. “God, you’ve always tasted so fucking good. S’fucking crazy, baby. Can’t ever get enough.”

“Sure,” you snort, head dropping back. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls—”

“No.” He shakes his head and his nose nudges the sensitive nerves as you whine. “No, there’s no other girls. Come on, did you really think there could be?”

“With a mouth like that? Yeah,” you admit. He laughs. “That’s how we met. You were such—fuck—such a player.”

“Maybe,” he concedes before mouthing at you again. “But nobody else has ever made me feel the way you do.”

You snort. “Where’d you learn that line?”

“It’s not a line. It’s the truth.”

“Harry. Come on. I know you.”

“Then you should know I don’t say shit I don’t mean.” He smooths his palms down your thighs in order to spread you just a bit further and see the way your hole flutters. “Oh, pretty girl. S’just drenched, hm? All sensitive from the last one…need Daddy to make it better?”

You scrunch your nose. “You don’t get to call yourself that anymore.”

“No?” He grins. “Why not?”

“Because I hate you and Daddy is reserved for someone I like.”

He tsks. “I don’t know, kind of seems like you still like it. Keep clenching around my tongue like you wanna hear me say it again.”

You hesitate as you weave your fingers through his curls. “Never.”

He hums and the vibration against your cunt makes your thighs twitch. “Come on, baby. Don’t be mean to Daddy.”

You want to glare. Slap at him, refuse him. But he’s right—you have missed the moniker. If only just because of how good he sounds when he says it. So, you let him tease you and taunt you as he tastes you. You let him do whatever the hell he wants because your second orgasm feels stronger than the first and you don’t imagine you’ll survive this one. 

He slips a finger in as well. Beckons your pleasure closer with every curl of the large digit. It’s practiced. He sucks and licks and nips and thrusts and curls and pumps all at the same time.

Then, he pulls back and brings his palm down in a sharp smack to your pussy. 

“Stop squirming,” he instructs, then shoots you an obviously pleased frown. “Don’t be a brat.”

“M’not,” you whimper. “Not a brat…just wanna cum.”

“Do you, hm?” He licks you again then adds two fingers. “Should I let you?”

“Obviously.”

“Obviously?” He’s smirking now as he starts to go faster. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you do deserve it. Yeah? After being so nice as to let me in.”

You pout. “Mhm.”

He’s so happy. He’s always his happiest when he’s suffocating himself with your pussy. He does everything he knows you love. He leaves teasing kisses to the inside of your thighs. He slaps at your leg, your clit, your hip. He helps rock you against his tongue and even lifts you from the couch to find a deeper angle. 

And he does all of this out of sheer enjoyment. 

“Harry,” you whimper as you melt into the cushions. Your limbs feel like jello. The pleasure is everywhere, and he looks like a god. His face is covered in you, glistening about as bright as the stars.

“I know, Poppy,” he says. He kisses your pussy and then smiles at you. “I know.”

You like the way Harry’s chest feels. Warm and soft and painted in the tattoos you used to trace with your finger.

He’s gently scratching your back as you both lay in bed. The room is quiet—you haven’t spoken in minutes. Still, neither of you can seem to find sleep and you know you’ll desperately need it soon. 

But this is nice. Even if it is the last time. You like getting to reminisce—pretend for even a moment that things are the way they used to be. When you were happy and safe and content to be together.

You weren’t sure you’d ever feel this kind of peace again.

“I missed you, too, you know,” he whispers after a moment.

You glance up. 

“I didn’t just miss your apartment. I missed you.” He takes a breath and runs his palm along your spine. “I miss our Sunday mornings and I miss when we’d watch scary movies just so we could make out and I miss the way you used to dance around in your underwear to some stupid musical you were obsessed with.”

You swallow a lump in your throat. “Har…”

“And I don’t know what happened,” he says. “I felt like…I felt like I was watching you do all these amazing things and I just couldn’t keep up. You were getting promoted and moving up and I was still at the fucking bar serving drinks. And you knew what you wanted to do. I didn’t.”

“I didn’t know,” you argue gently. “Not really. I hate my job. I hate that I don’t enjoy it the way I used to. I mean, I like that it pays the bills, but maybe that shouldn’t be enough.”

He presses his cheek to the top of your head. “You should do what makes you happy.”

“You used to make me happy.”

The soft strokes against your spine slow. 

“You did, Har,” you tell him. “So happy. That’s why I hated that we started fighting all of the time. I hated that you were gone or that I was gone or the fact that I was too ashamed to tell you that I missed you. And that I was scared we were losing each other.”

“Maybe we needed to lose each other,” he says and you feel sick. “Maybe we needed to be apart to see what we really wanted.”

You think about this. The idea sounds nice. Inviting. A happy end to a rather dreadful story.

But you both know better. Five months has taught you better.

“There’s a reason we broke up,” you finally murmur. “We didn’t…we didn’t like each other anymore. We were holding each other back—”

“I liked you,” he says softly. “I loved you. Yeah, I was mad, but I didn’t just stop loving you.” 

“Maybe you should have. Maybe it would have been easier for us and we wouldn’t be…here.”

More silence. It stretches for what feels like hours.

And then, “I can’t sleep because of you.”

You suck in a quiet breath. “What?”

“When Josie told me that you were seeing someone, I couldn’t…I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And she showed me a picture she took of you guys and you were so happy. Smiling at him like you used to smile at me and I just…I didn’t know what to do.”

Another pause. You don’t know what to say.

“I put my fist through a wall,” he tells you. “And somehow, that still didn’t hurt as much as knowing you’d moved on.”

You snake your arm around his middle and snuggle closer. “Harry, you knew we both had to move on eventually.”

“Did we?”

“Harry…”

“But so soon? It’s only been five months.”

“Yeah. Five months to grieve you and cry over you and realize I did this for you.” You close your eyes. Tight. “We’re better people now.”

“No, we’re tired people now,” he teases, and you smile. “And I think I’ll be losing sleep over you for the rest of my life.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I mean it. I’m always gonna think about you. Think about what I did wrong. What I could have done better.”

“I fucked up, too,” you argue. “I should have told my parents. And our friends. I should have talked to you more, asked you to do more things together. You’re right, I was ashamed of you. Of this…routine we’d fallen into. And I’m sorry.”

He says nothing. After all, there’s nothing more to say.

But he kisses the crown of your head and it speaks louder than any words.

“Fuck…fuck, Poppy, please—”

You grin as you lick your lips. He’s always sounded the most beautiful when he’s begging. And his best begging always tends to happen when his cock is down your throat. 

“What, Daddy?” you ask innocently. “What do you need me to do?”

His eyes roll back and he grips the sheets in his fist. “Please…”

You reposition yourself over his legs as you dip back down to have another taste. You lick and you suck and you stroke until he’s making another strained noise that sounds like sex.

You hope your neighbors can hear. You bet they missed him.

“Good boy,” you purr, squeezing his thighs as you take him even further. 

He sucks in a sharp breath through gritted teeth before his hand finds your hair and he squeezes. “Easy…easy, baby. S’been a while. Don’t hurt yourself—”

You respond to his instruction by inhaling through your nose and relaxing the muscles in your throat. Allowing him to hit the back the way he always used to.

His head drops into the pillows. “Shit—Poppy, I mean it. M’not gonna fuck your throat. It’s gonna hurt and I don’t wanna hurt you anymore.”

It’s an oddly thoughtful gesture but it does nothing for you now. Instead, you shake your head and pull off, a string of saliva dripping down his cock in your wake. “I’m fine, H. Trust me, I can take it.”

“Yeah?” He pushes up onto his elbows. “Is Crocs with Tube Socks hung or something?”

You grin. “No. But that dildo you got me last year is.”

He blinks. “You…fucking hell, you fuck your throat with that?”

“Mhm.” You swirl your tongue around his tip as he curses. “And then I fuck myself. And I pretend it’s you.”

He tightens his hold on your hair and forces your eyes back to his. “Are you serious?”

You nod, now feeling a touch shy as you wipe your mouth with your knuckles. “Yeah…I know that’s…probably weird, but…I mean, you got it for me, so I thought I’d be weirder to think about someone else—”

“No, it’s…” He stops. Struggles. “Shit, I really needed to hear that.”

“Oh, you did, huh?” 

“Yeah. I wouldn’t want you to think about anyone else when you used it, either. It’s got my fucking initials on it.”

You laugh, louder than you mean to and it makes him grin. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it? It was a pretty good gift, I’ll admit.”

“S’a fucking perfect gift,” he retorts. “We had a lot of fun with that dildo.”

“We did indeed.”

“But apparently not as much fun as you’re having with it.”

“Fucking myself helps me sleep,” you remind him. “So sometimes it’s necessity.”

“Is that right?” 

“Mhm.” You squeeze the base and he twitches. “You used to watch me. Remember?”

“I do.” His eyes get darker. “Do you fuck yourself a lot?”

“…these days, yeah. Apparently, I can’t sleep all that well, either.”

“And does it work?”

“Most of the time, yeah.” You turn your attention back to his cock in order to avoid his curiosity before you quietly admit, “Sometimes I pretend you’re here. Sleeping next to me. And…that helps, too.”

He reaches for your wrist and pulls your attention back. “Poppy—”

“No, don’t look at me like that, it’s dumb—”

“I imagine you, too.”

You blink. “You do?”

“Every night. Except the past couple weeks. Cause now I just think about you and him. And then I can’t fucking sleep.”

You turn your hand so your fingers brush through his. “Shit. We’re a mess.”

He smiles. “Yeah.”

The conversation falls away as you dip back down to resume your work. Squeezing his balls, moaning as you take him on your tongue, and milking him for every last drop. 

Turns out, you missed the taste of him, too.

Morning comes before either of you find a moment of rest. But you can feel yourself growing tired. Your eyelids are beginning to droop, and your body feels incredibly spent. 

Turns out, round 4 is where the magic happened. He brought out your favorite vibrator and teased your poor, swollen clit with it until you squirted. It was easy and quick and he seemed rather delighted to be bathed in you.

Until, of course, you insist on an actual bath to clean you both.

The shower felt good. The warm water washing away the sticky sweat on your skin. And the two of you fell back into a similar routine. He ran the soap down your arms and you washed his curls with your favorite shampoo. A shampoo he claimed he looked everywhere for after you broke up but could never find.

He said he missed the smell. The way it made his hair so soft. And the way it would make his pillowcase smell just like you.

You were grateful that the shower hid your tears.

You both crashed on the couch after you had dried off. The sheets still needed to be cleaned and neither of you could be bothered. But, as it turned out, the couch was growing on him. And he begrudgingly admitted it was rather comfy as the two of you curled up in your usual spot. 

You know you’re both close to sleep. Finally, after all your efforts to get here. But you also know that once you wake up, Harry will leave. 

And there’s a chance you won’t see him again.

You know that nothing has changed. The two of you still want different things, even if you want each other. And you hate that that’s not enough. That what you want and what you should want don’t align.

Instead, he’ll move on with his life and you’ll move on with yours.

But you don’t want to learn how to fall asleep without him.

“Make me a deal,” you whisper.

He hums. Lashes shut tight as the morning light slips in through the window. “What?”

“If I wake up, and you’re still here…we do this again. Not…as a couple. But as two broken humans that find rest with each other.”

His eyes open.

“But if you’re gone,” you continue, “then we don’t. We don’t do it again, we don’t see each other again, we don’t reach out again. We cut ties. Officially. Block and move on. For real.”

He seems saddened by this, and you hate that you’ve made him sad. But you both know it’s for the best. This won’t be sustainable in the long run. And maybe it’s a bad idea to continue at all, but maybe you want to hold on to him anyway. At least for a little while.

Even if it’s just as friends.

Exes.

Two broken humans that used to make each other whole.

His lips press together and he nods once. “Deal,” he agrees, and you can tell by the look on his face, he’s already made a decision.

You aren’t sure which way, but you suppose you’ll find out soon enough. So, you allow your eyes to fall shut and your dreams to take hold. Melting into his arms and into the sofa as you finally find sleep quicker than you have in months.

You’re not sure how long you’re out. It feels like hours. A heavy slumber that leaves you rather refreshed as your eyes eventually flutter open. 

You don’t see Harry as you slowly adjust to your surroundings. And you don’t feel him, either. But you’re too afraid to really look. To sit up and realize that he’s gone. For good.

And then, just when you think you’ve lost him…you hear the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Good morning, Poppy.”

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @laelamarley @myalovesharry

harry damn near begging for yn and being needy, mouthing at her neck chest and stomach while she’s trying to read plsss

PLEASE I LOVE THIS SHIT!

Patreon.

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Harry was a horny little menace. But god, was he a convincing one.

It had started when he crawled into her cozy little nest in their bed, cooing about how pretty she looked. In her glasses and her hair thrown up in a bun, along with a few pimple patches, she was sure she wasn't at her prime but it always did give her butterflies when he complimented her in her most relaxed, vulnerable state.

When he asked what she was read, she explained the general synopsis of what had happened so far- a royal romance, enemies to lovers-, and he had snuggled closer. Freshly showered, he was shirtless in just in a pair of grey sweats, skin and hair still slightly damp as he rested his head on her shoulder to catch a glimpse of the pages. But his intentions weren't pure.

"Oh? This is one of those dirty books, isn't it?" He cooed. Of course, as fate would have it, he had turned up during one of the smut scenes in the book. He knew she read filth, had an entire collection of smut ridden books, but this time in particular he felt rather smug about catching her.

"They're all dirty books." She drawled, turning the book so he could see better. He had a one track mind though, and turned his face to bury in her neck with a deep exhale. If he was being honest, he had been aching all day. Y/N had teased him slightly over text and he knew coming home that she would be in his shirt, looking so soft and familiar, he simply wanted to bury himself in her and never leave. Getting to see her so warm and relaxed, it did things to him.

"I have a better idea." He murmured into her skin, kissing the smoothness of her neck. "Why don't we have our own fun, hm? Been gone all day, wanting to come home... and you're reading' about other people having sex." He grunted, slipping his hand under her shirt, nosing at her like a needy pup.

"Well, yes." Y/N laughed through her nose. "I do tend to do that. I enjoy reading some tasteful sex scenes. Beautifully written ones. Is that so wrong?"

"Never said it was wrong, sweetness. Just said the obvious. M'home now, you don't need to read about it." His hand found her breast as his kisses moved up towards her jaw, sloppy with his movements and smearing the wet kisses over the curve of it. "You can experience anything y'want with me. M'ready to role-play, even. Just let me into that pretty pussy, and I'll make all those dreams come true, off the paper."

Of course Y/N knew she was fighting a losing battle- one she very clearly wanted to lose, based off of the sudden awareness of him in between her thighs and his fingers gently plucking her nipple. He liked to beg for it a little bit, though, so she sighed. "I dunno, H. This scene is really good. Maybe you'll just have to wait." The tone of her voice sounded serious but they both knew the game. This was part of it.

"Please, baby?" He whined. "Just a taste of it? Or... can let me warm myself inside of you." His teeth nibbled under her ear, a sweet spot he knew would cause damage to her resolve, sucking on the skin. Y/N felt it between her thighs. That familiar pulsing, her clit beginning to swell, her hole beginning to leak. Harry had quite the effect on her every single time, but hearing him beg always did it to her.

"Please, jus' let me make us feel good. Know you love t'be nice and full, can have it stuffed in you in just a few minutes... get you to feel it in your tummy, baby." He pleaded. "Cmon. Can make it so good for you. Missed feeling you wrapped around me all day, didn't get enough of you this morning." A horny thing he really was. "Can't help that you feel so good that I need you all the time, but m'dying for it. Been thinking about it all day long, just let me slide in." He continued with the begging, slipping his hand back down to the band of her panties.

When Y/N didn't tell him off, he slipped his digits between her thighs and let out a strangled moan. "Fuck me, baby. You're dripping." He whimpered. "Please, let me have it. Let me feel you around my cock, babylove. It aches, you're the only way to fix it." He was getting desperate, rubbing against her thigh as his fingers slid up and down her wet slit. "M'begging you, my love. Let me in."

"Okay, baby. Okay." Y/N laughed at his desperation. "You can slip inside, but you can't move until I finish this chapter." Harry didn't need further instruction, slipping his pants off and tugging her panties to the side with impatience. It took him but a few seconds to do it, spreading her legs open as he turned her on her side so he was spooning her from behind and letting himself in. Slowly pressing the ruddy, leaking tip of his cock through the soaked folds of her puffy cunt and finding her hole, notching against it before pressing inside.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you." His whimper was vibrated against her ear, making her clench slightly around him. He was truly desperate for it, letting her stretch as he sunk in inch by inch and rested his head against her cheek, hand going back up her shirt. "I'll be good. Promise."

first time y/n rides Harry and he thinks he’s gonna pass out, everything is overwhelming… I wud like to read that 🤧

abso fucking lutely I can <3

Patreon

————

“Fu-uuuck.” Harry groaned, panting out as he held her hips. The softness of them squished between his fingers, making his toes curl. Her hips swiveled, a heady moan leaving her mouth as she ground herself against his cock.

Y/N hadn’t even been one for riding cock in the past, but something had changed tonight. She requested it and Harry would never, ever tell her know. WHO would? What he didn’t expect, though, was to be pushed into a different mindset. Fuzzy, words slurring as he couldn’t handle how fucking good it felt.

Her head was back, hair flowing down her back as the elegant expanse of her throat was on display. The soft skin so bite-able, kissable, he mourned the loss of the ability to kiss it but it was soon distracted by her bouncing returning.

“Baby, baby, baby- fuck me.” He hissed, the slapping sound of her ass meeting his thighs and her wet cunt slipping up and down the length was almost too much, feeling her cunt dripping and wetting the patch of pubic hair neatly groomed at the base of his cock. She was making a fucking puddle, dripping down his cock and making him sticky. “Y-You’re so wet.” He whispered in awe.

“Y-you’re hitting something.” Y/N admitted, continuing the action over and over again as she got his dick more and more wet. Harry was living in a dream, eyes rolling back as her tightness continued to glide up and down. “It’s so good.”

Harry knew that. He was in rapture, helping her bounce as his fingertips dug into her hot flesh, urging her to move at the perfect pace. Not too fast, not too slow but nice and deep. Letting him dip all the way inside of her and feel it. He knew he was making a mess, precum dribbling inside of her and that too, made it even better. She asked for it raw, and Harry provided.

It just felt too good.

Overwhelming, almost, as the delicious squeeze made his legs shake slightly and his balls pulse, full and ready to empty into her whenever the right time came- but it was hard to control himself right now. It was hitting something, just as she had said, but for him too. How messy and wet her cunt was, how she made his cock and sac sticky and soaked, her face contorted in pleasure.

“Harry…. Harry, Harry, right there.” She adjusted just a bit and found her spot, but it was too late to warn him. He could feel the gush of her orgasm on his cock, a silent sob leaving her as he followed soon after. Load shooting up and filling her as he shook, thighs trembling as she tried to work out her orgasm. Milking him of every drop as she was greedy, continuing her bouncing with little noises. Primal and squeaky, like she was begging for more.

“S’too much.” He tried to say, but she wasn’t hearing him- so he lifted his hips and kept himself buried. It’s all it took for her to whine and collapse on him, taking him for a hungry kiss.

If she’d known how good it would feel, she would have tried this months ago.

Overdrive*

Summary: The one where it's 1969 and Harry likes to drive really, really fast.

Word Count: 5.5k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, exhibitionism, very brief daddy kink

Five.

The sound of revving engines echoes between the tall, city buildings. Loud enough to startle a nearby flock of birds on a telephone wire as they take off into the dark night to escape the lurid noise. 

Four.

The smell of burning rubber is everywhere. Tires screech against the pavement as the smoke dissipates into the warm summer air and the drivers prepare for that familiar white flag.

Three.

There’s a murmur amongst the crowd. The bets have been placed and the anticipation has set in. They pick their favorite driver, and they hope that somehow, they’ll be able to beat the unbeatable. 

Him.

Two.

You can see your little speed demon just up ahead as he waits patiently in front of the makeshift starting line. He seems relaxed. Confident. One hand is settled on the steering while the other is flipping the bird to the driver beside him. 

One.

The flag waves and the drivers take off. A streak of color flashes across the street as each of the five cars attempt to take their place ahead of the rest. But nobody can seem to get an edge on the black Lamborghini Miura already skidding around the first curve, effortlessly leaving them all behind.

You grin. It’s harder to see the cars now that they’re on the other side of the buildings, but you can hear them. You can hear his engine, specifically. You’d know the sound anywhere. After all, he spent weeks introducing you to the ins and outs of his favorite toy. Showing you exactly how to care for it, with those rough, practiced hands that also happen to care for you, too. 

You catch a glimpse of his vehicle just before it disappears past the drugstore. He shifts gears and accelerates, just before the blue Stingray to his right can gain on him. You hold your breath as both cars drift around the corner onto the next road and the crowd begins to cheer. 

Harry hasn’t lost a race in weeks. You don’t imagine he could lose if he tried. In fact, he could be blindfolded with no brake pedal and a faulty transmission and somehow, he’d still be miles ahead of the competition. 

It’s one of the things you love most about him. The way his eyes light up when he gets behind the wheel. The way the engine purrs in his hands and the way he can bend the road to his will. 

The Stingray veers to the right in order to get ahead of him, but Harry seems to anticipate this attempt. He cuts the other driver off just before he can speed up and your heart jumps into your throat. The only thing you don’t like about his racing is how careless he can be at times.

If you’re in the car, he takes the utmost care to make sure you’re safe. That you’re never put in harm’s way.

But when he’s alone, he’s in a whole other world of his making. He doesn’t consider the consequences or the repercussions. He doesn’t consider you. The way you’d feel if you lost him. 

And you trust his instincts, you do. But you can’t always say you enjoy the show. 

The Stingray slams on his brakes as Harry takes off and slides around the second to last corner. Tire marks are painted across the cement in his wake and the crowd cheers. 

Your stomach twists. He seems to be doing all right, although one of his fatal flaws is that it’s nearly imposable to tell how he’s feeling. He’s eerily stoic when he’s under pressure and perhaps that’s a good thing. 

But that doesn’t exactly help you now as he zigs and zags across the road before finally reaching the last turn that leads into the final stretch.

This is it. You hold your breath as you watch from the edge of the sidewalk, hands twisting in front of your chest as he races across the last few hundred feet. It’ll be close—the Stingray is gaining on him with each passing second—but Harry’s undeterred. He switches into a lower gear and the engine comes alive. Giving the car torque for those last few inches as he flies across the finish line. And the race is over.

The rest of the cars follow shortly after and the growing crowd of onlookers all swarm the street. They cheer and they holler, and they flock to the handsome driver now stepping out of his vehicle, desperate to congratulate him. But those soft green eyes only search for you. 

When he finally finds you squished between the horde of admirers, he grins, and begins to push his way through to you.

The moment you meet, he picks you up, hugs you to his chest, and spins you around. And you squeal giddily, happy to be back in his embrace as you wrap your arms around his neck and hold on for dear life.

“My little lucky clover,” he whispers proudly. “What did I tell you, hm?”

The nickname makes your insides grow warm. He’s called you his lucky clover ever since that first race when the two of you met. He claimed he only won because he saw you standing there watching and was desperate to impress you. And that every race he’s won since has been because of you and your charming presence. 

You aren’t so sure you believe him, but you have to admit it sounds pretty on his tongue.

You laugh as he puts you back down. “I know, I know,” you finally concede. “You were right.”

“Mhm.” He smirks—cocky—before he’s surging forward to kiss you. Soft and slow and with a desire that almost feels scandalous for such a public place. “I always am.”

His tongue brushes against yours while his hand splays across your lower back to tug your body to his and the crowd cheers as you giggle. But you don’t fight the way he loves you. Instead, you cling to his shirt and allow him to take what he wants.

When he finally allows you a moment to breathe, you gaze at him curiously. “How fast were you going?”

“120 on the main stretch. 80 on the curves,” he says, then chuckles at the way you frown. “M’fine, Clover. I promise.”

“You agreed nothing over 100,” you remind him.

“Yeah, but I needed to win.”

“No, you don’t need to win. You need to stay alive.”

“Well, why can’t I do both?”

Unamused, you huff, and lightly slap at his stomach. “Not funny, H.”

However, he merely laughs aagain and pulls you back between his arms. “Come on, sweetheart,” he says softly. “You know I’d never die on you. I’d miss you too much.”

“Let’s hope so.” You push up onto your toes to bring your lips to his once more. “Cause if you die on me…I’ll kill you.”

His smile is smug as he kisses you hard before he leads you back to his car. The large mass follows, anxious to ask him questions or offer their praise. And he listens to dutifully, perching himself on his hood while pulling you between his legs. 

It’s the same after every race. The other drivers try to tease him while his growing group of fans are desperate to be noticed by him. He might not be inherently famous, but he is to this crowd. They love a lot of things about him. His skill, his confidence, his looks. 

And you can’t exactly blame them.

It’s impossible to tell if you want to be him or be with him. You imagine for most people, it’s both. He has a sort of relaxed assurance that seems to make everyone else around him comfortable. And there’s a mystery about him. An intrigue to know more about the man behind the wheel. About who he is outside of these races. What he’s really like. 

He slings an arm around your shoulder and pulls you back into his chest. He talks to the driver of the Stingray and they exchange comments about the almost collision that makes your stomach turn. But when he notices, he presses a quick kiss to your temple and changes the subject. 

However, the rowdy celebration is cut rather short by the sound of sirens as two police cars come slinging around the side of a building with their lights flashing and their microphones on.

Everybody scatters, a collection of wild cheers and hollering voices as the officers step out of their vehicles in order to round up the crowd and instruct everyone to return home.

But Harry is unphased as he pats your hip and nods his chin up. He’s rather good at his getaway now. After all, you imagine he’d have to be with all the times the police have broken up these races. 

And he’s only been caught once.

You slip inside just as he starts the engine. The radio comes alive, the sound of Jimi Hendrix enough to rival the roar of the motor as places one hand on the back of your seat in order to look behind him before he speeds away from the scene, hangs a sharp left, and takes off down the adjoining road. 

The sound of sirens follow. There’s a cop car on the next street over, attempting to chase after him as Harry weaves in and out between the scarce traffic. He’s good—incredibly good—but they haven’t given up yet. 

They cross over and skid behind him. They’re getting closer and the red and blue lights are bright in the rearview mirror. Still, Harry is calm. Simply shifting gears with ease as the car accelerates and offers a bit more distance before he takes a last-minute right in order to shake them.

The force of the turn slings you against the side of the door and you huff as Harry shoots you a cheeky grin.

“Sorry, baby,” he calls over the music. “You all right?”

With a grimace, you nod and say, “Mhm. Just great.”

He winks before he’s blowing through one red light and then another. Somehow missing the few cars currently crossing the street while the police are forced to slam on their brakes as somebody passes. And once they lose sight of him, he veers into an old, abandoned alley to hide.

Seconds pass before they finally fly by. Oblivious to his plan as they head further into town while Harry takes another right and disappears from the city.

He cheers victoriously and rolls down the windows and you laugh as you gaze at him. Entranced by the way he nods his head to the music as a gentle, summer breeze blows through his curls. 

Freedom tastes better with him. Life is better with him. His hand on your thigh, squeezing, while he sings along to Jimi Hendrix and grins at the open stretch of road ahead of him.

You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else and he seems to bask in your admiration before he finally looks over.

“What do you say, Clover?” he says with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Wanna see what a hundred feels like?”

A bit hesitant, yet wildly curious, you nod. 

He reaches for your hand in order to help you across the car, and you crawl over the console until you can settle onto his lap. Once you’re snug over his thighs, his arms slip beside your middle to keep you safe while he holds onto the steering wheel, and you scoot back into his chest for support. 

And it feels good. Comfortable. Even though the car is going faster and faster with each passing second, you feel protected. You know he’d never let anything happen to you. And there’s hardly any danger out here, along the old, backroads away from the city and traffic.  

The needle on the dash rises higher and higher. 70…80…90. Harry’s grinning against your cheek as the wind dances across your skin. The moon is bright in the sky, illuminating the road even without headlights and it’s exhilarating. Limitless.

“How’s that, hm?” he whispers. He kisses your jaw before dropping his foot against the gas. “You sure you’re ready, sweetheart?”

You nod quickly and brace yourself in his hold. “Mhm.”

The car reaches 100 and it feels like flying. You laugh, giddy, and he grins. The straight stretch of empty street might as well be a runway and the faster you go, the lighter you feel. As though the tires will simply lift off the ground and carry you into the sky. 

He shifts gears and the car jolts forward as the needle jumps to 110. You gasp and squirm excitedly over his lap before he suddenly groans. The sound is low and strained and you recognize the lustful cadence almost immediately.

Amused, you bite the inside of your cheek. “You okay, H?”

He takes one hand from the wheel and places it on your thigh. Squeezing it once. Pointedly. “Don’t stop.”

 You don’t. You squirm again, settling into the feel of the hardening bulge beneath your ass and he makes another noise that goes straight to your cunt.

Your lashes flutter. The world blurs and your heart races. Perhaps you shouldn’t be doing this while you’re going so fast but Harry is calm. He trusts himself and you trust him.

The needle rises.

“Harry,” you whisper and his knuckles go white against the steering wheel. “Harry, please—”

“What?” His mouth rests against your cheek and you whine. “What, Clover? What do you need?”

He wants to make you say it. Wants to hear the words on your tongue and you swallow thickly as you intertwine your fingers with his. “H…”

“What, baby girl?” He nips at your skin with his teeth. “M’I making you nervous?”

You nod and he chuckles. A dark, sadistic sound.

“Do you want me to stop?”

There’s a quiet moment of hesitation before you eventually shake your head. Of course you don’t. How could you?

“No?” He squeezes your leg, touch slowly slipping beneath the fabric of your skirt. “Good girl.”

The car begins to go faster. 115…118…120. The same speed he reached during the race and even if you knew it was fast, this feels infinitely faster.  

You gasp and clutch his hand. Terrified and enthralled all in the same moment. And even if you shouldn’t be, you feel insanely aroused. Legs squeezing together as he subtly bucks up into you.

The music is loud and the wind is loud and the sound of your heart pulsing in your ears is loud. 

And then…the needle drops. The car slows. The speedometer goes from 120 to 50 in only a few seconds, and you blink curiously before glancing back at him.

He says nothing. His expression is firm but stoic and it’s not until he pulls off the road and into the dirt that you understand.

He turns the car off, then pats your hip. “Get out.”

You swallow again and swing the door open. Crawling off his lap before obediently trailing your way to the front of the vehicle while he follows.

“Bend over.”

You do. The hood is warm but not hot and it’s almost inviting as you place your hands against the covering to brace yourself in wait.

“Let me see.”

Your breath catches as you move your fingers to the delicate panties beneath your skirt. You pull them down your quivering thighs and the summer air makes you shiver. You feel nervous under his gaze. Under the way he owns you. But it’s thrilling. Addictive. And it leaves no room for questioning as you drop your underwear to your ankles in the middle of the open desert. 

You hear him step closer. Feel his hand on your hip as he pulls the fabric of your outfit up in order to get a proper look. But he’s quiet. Almost too quiet, and you feel a touch warm as you wait for his remark.

“Have you been this wet all night, Clover?” he finally asks.

You nod once. “…yes.”

“Mm.” Another pause while his other hand begins to trail up the back of your leg, slowly pulling it open. “And when were you planning to tell me?”

“I…I figured you already knew.”

He hums and you can only imagine his smirk. “Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Is that what you were waiting for, then? For me to do something about it?”

“…yes.”

The tip of his finger drags its way through your folds and the sudden sensation makes you whimper.

“Then why didn’t you ask, sweetheart?” His tone is soft but condescending and you make another noise as you attempt to glance back at him. “Uh-uh. Eyes down, Clove.”

With a huff, you drop your chin to your chest and anxiously wait for more.

“Why didn’t you ask?” he repeats. “Thought I taught you better than that.”

 When your only answer is a needy mewl, he lands his palm against your ass in a sharp smack.

“Speak,” he murmurs. “When I ask you a question, I expect you to use your words and answer me. Is that understood?”

“Yes…yes, I’m sorry.”

“So why didn’t you ask?”

“Was…nervous,” you admit, glancing off into the dark night to hide the shame in your expression. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

He steps closer and his touch becomes gentler. “You were nervous, baby girl?”

“Mm. Knew you were busy and…and didn’t wanna be greedy.”

“Oh, my sweet girl,” he exhales before he’s grabbing onto the cheeks of your ass to pull you open. Allowing him an even better view of the way you drip. “Can always be greedy with me, you know that? Don’t have to be nervous. All I wanna do is take care of you. My time is yours.”

You release a stuttered breath before your eyes fall shut. You love the way he touches you. The way he cares for you. The way he humiliates you, even out here where nobody can see. 

“Look at you,” he whispers and you feel yourself clench around nothing. “Look at how pretty your little hole is when it’s so empty.”

The pad of his thumb brushes through your folds and he ignores the way you gasp his name.

“Think I should fix that?” he asks. “Think I should fill you up? Make it better?”

“Yes,” you pant. “Yes, please—”

“D’you need me to stretch you open? Hm? Play with your little cunny till you’re coming all over my cock?”

The dirty words inside his gentle voice feel criminal. Your mind turns to mush and you can do nothing more than press your chest into the hood as you excitedly wiggle our ass further into his hand.

He laughs, amused by your desperation in a way that only pushes you further toward the endless edge. “Is that a yes, Clover?”

You nod quickly. Your cheek rubbing against the car until you finally—finally—hear the sound of his belt flicking undone. 

The metal clink is music to your ears and you release a deep moan at the thought of the leather against your skin. Of his cock as it brushes against your clit, mindlessly teasing you past the point of no return.

“Easy,” he says. “Give me your hands, sweetheart.”

Slowly, you pull your arms behind you until he captures them in his hand. He wraps the length of the belt around your wrists until he can securely bind them to the small of your back, and once your mobility is gone, you simper.

“There you go,” he coos. “You okay, honey?”

Another nod. “Yes.”

“Gonna tell me if it’s too much, yeah? If I hurt you?”

“Yes…”

“Know it’s a tight fit, baby, but m’gonna make it work. Promise.”

And this vow makes your heart thumb against the inside of your chest before you feel him disappear from behind you.

And then…his tongue.

He’s dropped into a crouch in order to taste you, fingers locked around your wrists to keep you still while his lips suck on your pussy. 

“H,” you inhale, already undone by his technique. “I…”

He says nothing but the noise of wet licking echoes between your ears. His other hand pushes your leg away, creating more room for his head as he mouths at you. He flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue and you steel yourself against the hood, almost as though to get away.

“Careful,” he warns again. He smacks your thigh. “M’having so much fun. Don’t ruin it.”

And you try to be good. Try to stay still so he can do with you as he pleases. But it becomes increasingly harder when he nips at your cunt like he means to feast on you. 

Your fingers wiggle about the air, desperate to grab him. To clutch onto his curls or yank on his arm. But he keeps you restrained, keeps you compliant. And you are nothing but a toy for him to play with now.

You hear the sounds of the world around you. The crickets, the owls, the flock of birds flying overhead. You’re reminded yet again that anybody could drive by, even out here in the middle of nowhere. They could find you, bent over the hood of a Lamborghini as you get tongue fucked by the handsome man on his knees.

And yet…you don’t care. In fact, you almost hope somebody does pass. Because you know Harry wouldn’t stop even if they did. He’d keep going until you were unraveling in his hands as you whimpered his name.

As if to prove this, he adds a finger in beside his devious lips. “Gotta make sure you can take me,” he says in a low grunt. “S’too tight in here, Clove. Don’t think I’ll fit.”

You whine louder and angle your ass closer. Desperate to get his finger in as far as it’ll go. “I’ll take it,” you promise. “I will. Always do.”

“Always do,” he repeats in a soft chuckle. “That’s right, you do. Treat my cock right, don’t you, sweetheart?”

Nearly purring, you allow the subtle thrust of his hand to drag you closer to that blinding pleasure. 

“Do anything I ask. Even have my babies, wouldn’t you?”

The thought nearly does you in. Your tummy all swollen and full of him. Tits leaking milk that he’d eagerly lap up. The way he’d still treat your body like a temple. A prize to behold. Because you were carrying what he gave you. He fucked you so hard and so deep that you became a vessel for him. 

And even past that, you’ve always wanted to be a mother. Always wanted to start a family with him because you know he’d be a wonderful father. He’d take them to races and hold them on his shoulders so they could watch. He’d kiss all over their little cheeks and tuck them into bed. And your kids would know nothing but love. Because they’d look up to the two of you.

It makes you smile.

“What do you say, hm?” he whispers between kitten licks to your pussy. “You wanna have my babies? Wanna make me a daddy?”

He adds a second finger and begins to scissor them almost immediately until you cry out. Loud enough to startle a bird from a nearby branch and this proves to be answer enough for him.

“Okay,” he decides. “Okay, I’ll fuck your little pussy and get it all nice and full. Give you all I’ve got. And you’ll take it, won’t you? Hold it in your little belly like a good mama.”

You cum. Suddenly and without warning as the intensity of the orgasm explodes behind your eyelids like stars in the sky. You cum and you don’t get a chance to warn him or prepare or even hold off as you feel yourself drip down his hand. 

“God, H,” you moan. You sound pitiful. Voice hoarse from the way you’ve been wailing and arms sore from the way he keeps them behind you. Still, you don’t mind. The pain is pleasure in and of itself. “I…m’so…”

“Yeah.” He stands up and tugs his pants down. “I know, baby. I am, too.”

The tip of his cock drags through your soaked and sensitive pussy before he pushes in. He’s right, it is a tight fit. Even with the way you attempt to relax your muscles and draw him in. But it’s always snug with him and truth be told, you almost prefer it this way.

“There you go,” he breathes, dipping down to kiss your shoulder before drawing back his hips. “Just like that. Fucking hell, Clove, I wish you could see. Wish you could fucking see the way you look taking me right now.”

You wish you could, too. As it is, the feeling is enough to make your eyes roll back and send sparks of electricity up the length of your spine.

He keeps your wrists in his hand as he fucks into you. Sharp thrusts that sound sloppy and uncoordinated but feel like heaven. And there’s an urgency here. A desolate need to feel you unravel. He cares for you and he uses you all with the same technique. 

He grabs your leg and forces it up onto the hood. Giving him more room and a deeper angle just to hear you moan. And you hate that you can’t see him. Because you know how pretty he looks when he’s in control. His adrenaline high and his eyes alive with the possibilities of what he could do to you.

Instead, you choose to imagine. The way a few rogue curls must be sweeping across his forehead, unable to stay constrained beneath the sticky gel he likes to put in his hair. His chest is probably heaving, offering peeks of his tattoos beneath the white shirt clinging to his sweaty torso. His thighs will be flexing with each thrust. The muscles rippling in such a way that would surely make you drool. 

You understand why every woman you pass on the street tends to fawn over him. You know they’d do anything to take him home. Cook for him, clean for him, be good for him. Anything to earn his affection.

But you also know, his affection belongs to you. You’ve seen it, time and time again. He doesn’t even glance their way. He doesn’t notice when they giggle over him or when they try to call to him with their eyes. 

Because his eyes are always on you.

“You’re beautiful,” you hear him whisper. It’s soft—restrained. Almost as though he doesn’t mean for you to hear it. But you do and you nearly sink into the car in bliss. “Fucking hell, sweetheart. You’re perfect.”

A fervent heat rushes through your body from his praise and subsequently has you clenching around him. The feeling makes him groan and you’re proud of the way you can still care for him. Even if you can’t see him. Even if he’s the one with all the power.

“This sweet little pussy takes such good care of me,” he says and reaches around your tummy in order to press his palm against the subtle bulge there. “Every…fucking…time.”

You careen forward, cheek squished into the hood, skin dewy from the way your body shakes with pleasure. It’s always this close and somehow, he keeps you there. As though reminding you not to cum until he says so.

The hand on your stomach moves down until his fingers find your sensitive clit. He rubs and he plucks and he plays with your body with the same precision and skill he uses when he drives. Because no matter how much he loves to race, he loves you more. And winning you will always be infinitely better than winning some goddamn race.

“What do you say, hm?” he mumbles from behind you, rubbing the swollen nerves while pistoning his hips to yours. Dragging you closer and closer and closer. “You gonna cum for me? Gonna let me feel it?”

You nod and when you start to waver over that edge, he chuckles.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Okay, baby, cum.”

You do. Again. Harder this time. Louder. It’s almost cruel how easily your body breaks beneath him but before you can indulge in the feel of the way he follows…he’s pulling out. 

He guides you away from the hood and turns you both around. He sits in the spot you once were and he lets you see him. Because this is what you needed. The intimacy, the eye-contact. The beautiful look on his face.

He guides you closer with his hold on your bound wrists before pulling you onto his lap as best he can. He helps you place one leg back on the hood while his other hand moves to guide his cock between your overstimulated folds. Then, he brushes his swollen tip through, just to tease himself, before he’s pushing in.

And you can see him now. Can see the fucked-out expression on his face. The way his vision becomes hazy and his teeth grit together in ecstasy. 

You whimper, whine, cry out. You want to hold him. Want to wrap your arms around his neck and curl yourself into his beautiful, broad chest. 

But you can’t this time. In fact, he uses his grip on the belt to help roll you over his cock. A soft smile on his face as he whispers, “Just one more, sweetheart. Give me one more.”

He’s insatiable and greedy and you love it. Because you’d fuck yourself on his cock for the rest of time if you could. Even out here in the open.

“Wanna watch,” he whispers, then slips his other hand around the back of your neck to bring you down for a kiss. “Wanna watch the way I fill you all full of my babies.”

You make a rather pitiful noise against his mouth and he smirks. 

“You want that, too, don’t you, Clove?”

You nod, although you imagine it should be obvious. You’d do anything for him. 

“This little pussy was made to have my babies, wasn’t it?” he says and kisses the corner of your lips before moving down your neck. “Just made to be fucked by me. Perfect tummy to carry my kids. You’ll be so good, mama. Know you will.”

Your lashes flutter shut. The nickname breeds something new in your chest, a blossoming sort of urgency that almost makes it hard to breathe.

“Harry,” you plead. You nudge your nose against his temple. “Harry, please—”

“Shh.” His voice is soft. Still mischievous but kind. “I’ve got you. Yeah? M’right here. Just let me take care of you.”

And he does. He moves his hand from your neck to your shirt, slipping underneath until he can find your tits and give them a squeeze. 

“There you go,” he coos. “Oh, baby girl. Do anything for you, you know that? Just to keep you.”

He moves from your chest to your clit, and you know the second his fingers make contact, you’ll be gone. You squirm in anticipation, and he grins against your cheek before kissing you hard. Tongues and teeth colliding as he sucks on your lip and murmurs, “Can I cum in your pretty pussy, mama? Will you let me? Please?”

You nod so quick and so hard, your head aches. But it doesn’t matter because nothing else will ever compare to the feel of his hand on your body and his cock in your cunt. Releasing the warm, sticky offering that means infinitely more now than it did before.

He thrusts up into you a time or two, milking himself with your pussy before he drops back down and pulls you with him.

You’re both panting. Heavy, hard. Depleted of all energy as he holds you as close to his heart as he can.

Eventually, he frees you, tugging on the belt with one, easy pull as it comes loose from around your wrists. And the moment your arms are returned to you, you use them to grab onto his shoulders and bury yourself in his embrace.

He laughs. A delicate sound that makes you feel just as warm as his cock does. And you stay there for as long as you can until he finally nips at your earlobe and says, “Need to get you home, Clove. Don’t want you to get cold out here.”

“M’not cold,” you pout. “And we can’t leave until it works.”

“Until what works?”

You look down and he looks, too.

Then, he grins. A big, giddy grin that’s all teeth and dimples. “Oh,” he murmurs. “Can’t leave until you’re pregnant, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“I see.” He squeezes your hips and kisses your neck. “Gonna have to hold me in there, aren’t you? Keep me all snug?”

“Mhm.”

“All right, mama,” he says and you giggle. “We’ll stay until you’re all nice and pregnant. And then I’m gonna take you home and fuck you again. Just to make sure.”

Your stomach flips.

“S’that sound good, Clover?” he asks, and you bring your eyes to his in order to see him fully.

You smile.

“That sounds perfect, Daddy.”

For a more immersive experience, feel free to play All Along the Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix during the chase hehe

Beautiful divider by @firefly-graphics 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

My Baby’s Sweet As Can Be* (Harry and Mia’s Christmas Blurb)

holy shit okaY HELLOOOOO whores my loves! here’s harry and mia’s christmas fic!!!! it’s my longest one for this celebration so far and i am going to apologize for all this. read the other fics here!

i also couldn’t figure out if i wanted to write for harry and mia in their d/s relationship or when they’re dating so…. i didn’t pick :D both are in here.

anyways!!!!! some CONTENT WARNINGS: harry has an obsession with making mia cry so…. that’s in there. like. in both the past and present. i don’t know. don’t ask me how that came about. there’s some overstimulation, very light impact play, and bondage. again, i’m so sorry for what you’re about to read. it’s harry and mia. you know what it’s gonna be like.

hope you enjoy! let me know what you think!

(p.s. thank you @softforcal for helping me out!)

8.4k words. Happy reading!

***

Three Years Ago

Mia holds her finger up to Harry’s face, her mouth curved down. “I got another paper cut, sir.”

Harry tapes one side of his wrapping paper down and then glances at the cut. He pulls a bandaid out from the bag of medical necessities she’s forced him to keep besides him and wraps her finger. “There.”

“Can you also kiss it better?”

Harry takes her hand and kisses the finger. And then he goes back to wrapping the brand new laptop. “That’s your third one. What are you doing?”

Keep reading

or the one where harry and mia work on her self confidence ft. some heartbreaking edging and an unsympathetic dominant. 5k words. i hope you like it and tell me what you think right here! read the other harry and mia fics/blurbs here! happy reading!

**

Keep reading

A little update on Faye and Harry because it’s been a minute!

(warning: mention of depression, anxiety, and medication)

***

Harry watches Faye poke her earrings through her ears, tightening the stoppers behind. “You never wear earrings with me,” he grumbles, playing with the string of his sweatpants. “Why not?”

She glances at him through the mirror. He’s sitting on the bed, his back against the headboard, one leg propped up against the mattress. “Well, you never take me anywhere fancy. Besides, it’s not for an occasion, I just don’t want the holes to close. I doubt I’d get them redone if I were to let them close. You know I hate pain.”

“You seem to forget that I took you and your entire family to dinner last week.” He scratches his jaw. “And it hurt my pockets.”

She smiles and finishes with her earrings, climbing back towards him on the bed. If he’s upset, he doesn’t show it, dropping his leg to let her rest her head on his lap. He’s wearing a black sweater and black sweatpants, his signature. “You were the one dying to meet my parents.”

He gently combs his fingers through her hair and presses his lips together, a look of genuine love in his eyes. Her bangs have grown out since the quarantine and now they can easily be tucked behind her ears. As he does, he gently touches the silver stud. “I was. I’m glad I met them. Should I get my ears pierced? We could match, although I prefer gold or black over silver.”

Keep reading

I miss Harry and annnalise as well🤨🤨 specifically Annalise having a bad dream that Harry never came back from war and waking up with tears in her eyes and a lump in her throat but not wanting to wake Harry cus finally he’s sleeping with out having a bad dream him self but when he wake up to go the the bathroom and finds her clutching her pillow with tears in her eyes he lectures her and tells her to always wake him up no matter what cus he IS home and he DID come back to her………………anyways

HEHEHEHEHE YEAH LETS TALK ABOUT THIS

***

Annaliese wakes up panicking and covered in sweat, her nightgown bunched up around her thighs, and her hands clutching the sheets desperately. She quickly turns around to see Harry, and despite the darkness, she can faintly make out his outline behind her. Touching has been an issue recently. Though they go to sleep with Harry's arms around her, he says it's very overwhelming to hold her for a long time and that he needs his own space. Annaliese never once argued with him about it, but now she wishes she could just touch him and remind herself that he is here and her nightmare wasn't real.

Instead of touching him, she reaches for her pillow and holds it tight to her chest. Her breath is stuttering and her lungs aren't working properly causing an ache to spread through her chest. Her vision is blurry with tears, panic still spreading all over her body as images of her nightmare continue to run through her head.

She can't wake him. Not right now when he's sleeping so peacefully, having no nightmare himself. His comfort matters more, doesn't it?

Annaliese manually forces her feet to touch the ground and she stands on shaky legs. She needs to grab onto the side table to balance herself, and once she's able to, she walks to the bathroom.

She can't stop crying. She doesn't want to look at herself in the mirror and be disappointed by her reflection. Isn't her role to stay strong for her husband? It's a shame she can't even do that.

Annaliese finds a spot between the sink and the tub, resting her back along the wall and sliding down. Quickly pressing her hand to her mouth when a cry slips out, she gasps, making the ache in her chest grow. The longer she tries to stifle her cries, the more the pain spreads. Finally, unable to breathe, she takes a deep breath and buries her face in the pillow, freely crying. The fluff of the pillow conceals a lot of the noises, and her shoulders falls, her legs weak, and she just sobs.

***

It's been a journey sleeping next to his wife again, and it's gotten to a point where he can tell when she's no longer in bed with him. He reaches a hand out across the bed and frowns when he doesn't feel her body. His eyes blink open and he slowly stretches, wondering if it's already morning.

The curtains are dark and there's no trace of the sun. He looks over at the clock and finds that it's the middle of the night. They couldn't have been sleeping for more than three hours.

He forces his body up and looks around the room. Everything is still dark except for the bathroom light, so he sits up properly and rubs his eyes. His wedding band digs into his forehead, but he pays no mind to it.

He'll wait for her to return, he decides, propping a pillow behind his back. She should be returning soon.

But for some reason, she doesn't. Minutes go by. 10, then 15. Concerned, Harry slides out of bed and shivers, padding across the floor to the bathroom.

He lays a hand on the door, murmuring, "Annaliese? You alright?"

He receives no response. Very faintly, he hears a sniffle.

Harry's heart drops to the pits of his stomach and he reaches for the handle. "I'm going to come in, okay?" He doesn't wait for a response, slowly opening the door and squinting at the bright light. The first thing he sees is Annaliese's curls unraveling from her rollers, the ones she meticulously puts into her hair every night. Her curly mop obstructs her face, but he realizes it's not the only thing. She has her face in the pillow.

"Hey," he softly whispers, stepping closer. Silently, he kneels in front of her. His hands are slightly shaky as they touch her head, but he forces himself to be brave for her. Her curls are soft and freshly washed, but his focus is now on her trembling shoulders.

Harry tries again. "Annaliese? Hey, look at me, will you?"

She gives him a barely there shake of her head and Harry frowns.

"I just want to see your face. That's all," he whispers, tangling his fingers into her hair. When he receives no answer, he begins removing the rollers from her hair, placing them besides his knee. He's gentle about unrolling her hair because some of the strands have become tangled. Even if the removal hurts, she's not showing it.

"Were you sick?" he murmurs, gently scratching her scalp. He's stifling the urge to stop touching her. "Do you want me to get you medicine?"

That must be it, right? She's on the cold floor to help with her nausea.

"Or a glass of water?" he continues, smoothing her hair back from the frame of her face. He notices how loosely she's holding the pillow so he gently begins to remove it from under her head.

Annaliese quickly covers her face. "Stop!"

Harry only puts the pillow aside and wraps his fingers around her wrists, tugging them down. "I just want to see you."

"I don't want you to see me! I don't want to make it worse on you!"

Harry's heart throbs in his chest when he sees his wife's tear streaked face and red eyes. Her hair is wild and he quickly tucks the strands behind her ears the best he can manage before holding her wet face in his hands. "Annaliese," he whispers, taking her in. Her lower lip is still trembling as fresh tears pass over her face. "Oh, my sweet girl."

"Didn't want to wake you," she sniffles, reaching for him. He easily accepts her and brings her closer, hugging her body to his tightly. She puts her head on his chest and cries softly, her entire frame quivering with the force of her sobs.

"You're not sick, are you?" Harry says softly, kissing the top of her head. "We've talked about this. You must tell me when you have a nightmare. Same goes for me."

"It was so bad," she says between tears, though she's struggling to speak. "You were gone. It could have happened, Harry. It could have."

"But it didn't." Harry holds her tighter, burying his own face in her hair. "My sweet girl, it didn't happen. I'm here. You can touch me and feel me."

"I didn't know I could touch you."

Guilt runs through Harry quickly. He shakes his head. "You can touch me. You can wake me. In fact, please wake me."

"You didn't come home," she whimpers.

"I did," he insists, pulling back to look at her face. He holds her jaw and runs a palm over her face. "I'm here. I'm here and I'm your husband and I'm home. We made a home together, Annaliese. None of what you dreamt was real."

The pain shooting through his body increases the more she cries. She must be so dehydrated by now.

"You have to wake me up, Annaliese. This isn't something we negotiate on. Please let me be your husband. I want to be a good husband. I want to make up for this past year. I want you to be happy with me." He continues cleaning her face. "And I can't do that if you're hiding from me."

"I wanted you to sleep," she admits nearly inaudibly. "I just wanted us to have a good night. You cuddled me."

Harry sighs, kissing her forehead a few times. "We did have a good night. And it can still be good." For a final time, he wipes her face. "I love you. I don't want to see you like this. It hurts me so bad."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"I know you don't. So wake me up next time, okay? For now," he says, taking her hands, putting them on his own face, "you can touch me. Feel me. Look, you can feel my pulse, can't you? That means I'm here. You and I are together again."

Annaliese tearfully nods, biting the inside of her cheek. With shaky fingers, she checks his pulse.

"It's there," she whispers, nodding still. "I can feel it."

Harry's eyes soften. "Right." He presses his own fingers to her neck. "I can feel yours."

"We're both here. We're going to stay here."

"Yes." He draws her in and kisses her softly, keeping his fingers on her pulse as she keeps hers on his. He kisses her harder after, feeling the pulse quicken until he breaks away with a smile. "Let's go back to bed please. I want to hold my wife."

Annaliese nods, hiccuping. "Have to wash my face." She looks up at him with her beautiful eyes. "Can you stay? Please?"

She doesn't need to ever say please to convince him of anything. "I will do anything you tell me to," he promises, pressing another kiss to her mouth. "Come. Let me help you up."

harry and annaliese please!!!

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

Annaliese looks up from the lather, offense etched onto her features. “I’ve done this before.”

“Several years ago, yes.”

“I wouldn’t say several. Now, do you want to be standing for this and I could get a stool or maybe–”

“No,” Harry says, sitting on the edge of the tub. He pats his thigh twice. “Come here.”

Annaliese’s eyes widen. Her heart flutters…well, everywhere. “Really?”

“Really.”

She grabs all the utensils and then carefully sits sideways on his lap. Harry shakes his head and grabs her waist, twisting her over so her legs wrap around his torso. 

“You’ll fall over,” she protests. 

“I won’t.” He spreads his legs wider to balance himself. His hands don’t move from her waist. If anything, they grip tighter. 

She froths the cream a little bit more before shifting closer, raising his chin. “Your lips.”

He pulls them between his teeth, eyes alight with excitement, and perhaps something else. She starts over his mouth, and then down his cheeks and jaw. Then his neck. He shudders at the cold cream, but lets her swirl the brush over his stubble until nicely coated. 

“Do you remember the first time we did this and I nicked your neck?”

Harry restores his lips to normal and chuckles softly. “I bled for ten minutes. You ran to get me a bandaid if I recall correctly.”

“And Thea asked how you could have cut yourself when you’ve never done so before.”

“It was fun, wasn’t it? Keeping us a secret.”

“Fun for you, maybe. I didn’t like lying to my best friend.”

“Lying?” Harry rubs her hip with his thumb. “I don’t think it was lying. Just hiding.”

“I had to tell her I wasn’t interested in anyone for, like, six months!”

“The horror,” Harry murmurs, turning his head as Annaliese flips open the razor. “Carefully, yes?”

“Yes, yes. I know.”

She starts at his sideburns, slowly dragging down. His eyes flutter shut at the contact, just briefly, before opening, staring past her shoulder. Harry never lets his stubble grow out much, so the hair are already short. She stretches the skin with one her left hand and shaves with her right. When the razor is coated, she pulls back and leans over to the sink to dip it into the already filled warm basin. Harry’s hands hold her tightly to make sure she doesn’t fall.

“Good?” she asks.

Harry nods. “So far no casualties.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Cannot be more dramatic than you.”

She uses the towel slung over his shoulder to wipe down the blade and then goes back to stretching his skin. As she gets the hang of it, he relaxes his tense shoulders and wanders his eyes over to her. 

She can see him watching her from the corner of her vision. When she glances over at him, Harry only stares back until his left eye drops in a wink.

Annaliese, despite being married to this man for several years, blushes. Harry laughs, rubbing her back as if to comfort her.

Once she gets to his mouth, he dutifully bites down on lips to hide them as she glides the razor over his mustache and down his jaw. She makes sure to get the corner of his mouth, and one one side of his face is down, she cleans the blade and leans forward to kiss his soft cheek a few times. The cream he uses smells divine. There must be some science behind how the smell drives her insane.

This, of course, Harry knows. He gives his knees a little bounce to send her bumping into him.

“You’ll fall!” she says again. 

“Won’t.”

Annaliese sighs and continues with the other side of his face. When she’s done, he tilts his head back so she can get his neck, visibly tense again as she goes over his Adam’s apple. He grabs her waist again as she washes away the froth. 

“Done,” she announces, extremely proud of herself. “Now I’ll go over it again–”

“No,” Harry says quickly, grabbing the razor from her. “I’ll do that.”

She frowns. “You said I could.”

“Yes, but I’ve changed my mind. Going against the hair is, er, too advanced. I can do it. But you can watch.”

He pats her thigh firmly and goes to stand up, taking her with him. Her feet land against the floor and he walks her backwards until her back hits the sink, trapping her there. He takes the cream and rubs it over his face once more, cleaning the blade again as well.

Annaliese stops her complaining right away as Harry looks over her head at himself in the mirror, quickly shaving his jaw and neck. He does it at such a speed, it’s so fun to watch. A smile plays on his lips because he knows exactly how she feels as she watches him. Her hands grab his shirt, mouth ajar, waiting for him to finish his neck to press her lips to his pulse point, kissing it repeatedly.

Harry laughs softly, continuing to shave over his mustache. All she can hear is the scratch of the blade against the short hair. She pulls away once he’s finished, stepping back to let him wash the rest of the lather away. She takes the towel away from his shoulder and pats his face dry.

“So handsome,” she whispers. “You are so handsome. It's so unfair. I should keep you locked up. Nobody should be allowed to look at you.”

Harry wraps his arms around her when she leans up to kiss him, urgency laced into her lips. She kisses him and kisses him until the air runs out, her back digging into the sink. She has to press her thighs together to get some relief, which Harry, as the attentive man he is, notices right away.

“If you keep kissing me like this,” he murmurs heavily against her mouth, “we’ll never make it to dinner.”

His hands slide down her sides suggestively.

“We don’t need to go to dinner,” she says.

“I made these reservations four months ago, my love.” He pulls back to hold her face, squishing her cheeks together. “We will be going to dinner.”

Annaliese attempts to pout, which earns her another heavy kiss from her husband. “Fine,” she sighs, seeking out one more kiss. “But after that, I get to have my way with you.”

“Mm. Absolutely.”

Harry sets the hair dryer down on the table beside Yasmine’s shoulder. Her eyes blink open to glance at him curiously through the mirror, hand already reaching for the dryer to take over. “Got tired?”

He shakes his head, staring back at her reflection with a pensive look.

It was his idea to dry her hair for her since her arms were sore from yesterday's therapy. Despite taking a hot bath immediately after to soothe her muscles, the ache had made it tough this morning. They’d showered together, Harry’s gentle fingers massaging the shampoo into her scalp, gliding the conditioner down her ends, and his palms carefully smearing over her eyes to remove any suds from her face. He’d held her jaw in his hands and bent down to kiss her softly, thumbs rubbing over her wet cheeks. 

He’d usually be handsy in the shower, but this time he only held her and kissed her face, eyes never straying from hers. It unnerved her for him to be so silent, but it also excited her to have all his attention.

“What is it?” she asks him, because a silent Harry is something to be worried about.

Harry almost smiles at the immediate frown on her face. It’s a default expression for her, and oh how he loves it. “What do you think about marriage?”

Yasmine freezes. The frown disappears, but it’s now replaced by apprehension.

“Marriage,” she repeats.

“Mhmm.” He runs his thumb over the back of her neck. She shivers.

“It’s. Well, it’s marriage.”

“Astute, my love.”

“It’s legally binding.”

“That it is.”

“Webster Dictionary defines it as–”

“Yasmine,” Harry says quietly, but firmly. “First thought that comes into your head. Go. Marriage.”

She blinks and automatically replies, “Harry.” And then she has the audacity to look concerned with her own answer. “Oh.”

He smiles fully then, whirling her around so she can see his face. She looks up at him quizzically, but lets him push her hair back over her shoulders. Instead of kissing her, he hugs her to his torso, pressing her face into his stomach. “Okay.”

“Okay?” she says, muffled against his shirt. 

“Just wanted to see something.”

He squeezes her tightly, hard enough to make her wince, but not hard enough to make her cry out. He smooths his hands down her back then, and then releases her, reaching for the dryer again.

“Whoa,” Yasmine says, placing her hand on his to stop him. “Listen, I’m not a very big romantic person, but there’s no way I’m going to allow you to propose to me while you’re drying my hair!”

Harry ponders over this for a minute. “Would it help if I got on one knee?” And then he does so, bringing the dryer along with him.

“Harry!” She puts her hands on each shoulder, scooting closer to him. The wild look in her eyes is still there, but it’s now mixed with…delight?

He shakes his head. “Yasmine, you have no faith in me. Why would I propose to you like this?”

“I don’t know! Why are you asking me about marriage?”

He gives her a pointed look. “We’ve been dating for over a year, not to mention you made me wait throughout grad school for you to come around. I hope you know that I’m fully committed to you and would like a life with you. You are mine. This is it for me.”

Yasmine feels her face flush, swallowing hard. Her heart hammers in her chest and the entire world melts away. It’s just her and this ridiculous gem of a man. “I thought that was a given. And unspoken.”

“It was. But now I’m saying it out loud so you know. Because I know things get lost between us sometimes, but I need to be clear now.”

Oh.

“I started dating you knowing you were the last woman I’d be with. I will do many, many things to ensure that. I will let you win as many fights as you want, put up with your worst habits if the need be. And I need to know if we’re on the same page about this.”

Something inside her squeezes. He looks so serious, eyes unwavering, jaw set, that it makes her shiver again. He’s rarely ever this intense about anything. His hand strays from the dryer, taking one of her hands instead, pressing her open palm to his heart.

“Of course,” Yasmine blurts. She grabs his shirt, tugging him a little closer. “We’re on the same page about that. You can’t get rid of me now.”

Harry nods once. “Good.” He then kisses the top of her head and then stands, her hand falling away when he reaches his full height. He manually turns back around and parts her hair once more, ready to dry it again.

“Harry,” she says before she gets drowned out.

“Hm?”

“I don’t have high expectations about a proposal. I need to clarify that.”

He finally smiles, his eyes clearing. He kisses her head again, more firmly, and then sighs against her. “It’s been years and you still think so little about my wooing skills.”

“I’m just saying. It doesn't have to be big.”

“I know, baby.”

The pet name makes her inwardly soar. “But just not while drying my hair.”

“It would make me happy,” he admits softly. “To propose while taking care of you. Something I consider my only purpose.”

“I mean it.” She tries to sound strict, her breath catching at the confession. She fails completely.

“I know,” he says again, and then hugs her tightly. “I know.”

mia definitely thinks harry fakes the things he likes. there’s no possible way he could like them!

for example, when they go out to a new local coffee shop and mia orders a fun latte and harry just gets a regular black coffee. she narrows her eyes at him all suspiciously and she’s like, “we came here for the first time and that’s what you get?”

harry looks up from his phone, startled. "what do you mean?"

"it's just a black coffee."

"well it's also iced."

"you only ever get that."

he glances at her drink. "i guess i just don't have a taste like yours." he slides his coffee over. "try it."

mia does, taking a very cautious sip, and then dramatically coughs and takes several large sips of hers. harry only smiles and shakes his head. he brings the straw back to his lips.

"whatcha reading?" she asks.

harry smiles some more because, well, "BBC news."

she makes a face. "how boring."

"well, i'm reading the economics portion. i'll be sure to hand my phone over once i get to the comics."

mia grumbles, "very funny. but you honestly mean to say you like reading that stuff?"

"i do work in business, baby."

oh no.

not the random pet name.

that means she's saying bone-headed things and endearing him. he even turns his phone over and looks her with those crinkled, beautiful green eyes.

"yeah," mia says, avoiding his eyes or else she'll stumble. "but, like, you don't ever want to read about unimportant things?"

"of course i do. and those aren't necessary boring. depends on interest, no?"

"and you're genuinely interested in things like...like the stock market and investments and microeconomics."

"genuinely," he confirms.

"i failed my economics class in college."

"i know, baby, i was there to witness it."

"whatever." she sips her drink. "all i'm saying is that you're not beating the boring 40 year old white man working in business allegations."

"mia, do you really think i'm boring?"

his eyes are sparkling in the light and she knows that he knows the answer to that.

"whatever," she says again.

and then the server comes by with their food.

mia looks at her two layered pancakes and harry's conservative avocado toast with scrambled eggs on the side.

harry raises his eyebrows at her. "don't."

"i want you to look me in the eyes and tell you that you actually, wholly, totally enjoy--"

harry reaches over and grabs her face, stopping her words. her stormy grey eyes are all annoyed. he's smiling again. "i actually, wholly, and totally enjoy my boring, repetitive meals." he lets her face go. "now eat please."

“This is so nice,” Harry murmurs, staring up at the ceiling. He’s sure that if he keeps his head back against the couch like this for a few minutes longer, he’ll develop a crick in his neck, but that thought seems far away as his fiancée continues to assault his jaw and jugular with soft, yet pointed kisses. His hand rests on the back of her head, her hair spilling over his fingers, and the press of her thighs against his keeping him awake.

Mia pulls away to frown at him. “I’ve been kissing you for ten minutes and all you have to say is ‘this is nice’?”

He smiles down at her, the hand in her hair traveling to cup her cheek. “You are so nice, I meant.”

“You’re right,” she says, looking pleased. “I am.” And then she ducks her head and continues kissing his collarbones.

He’s half sprawled on the couch with his legs wide, and she’s directly on top of him. The collar of his shirt is open, his tie undone, and he’s pretty sure that somewhere between entering their house and Mia basically pouncing on him, she managed to undo the button and zipper of his pants.

Harry sighs softly, melting into the soft presses of her lips. He imagines how his neck must look right now, riddled with lipstick stains and slight marks from her nipping. He’s not entirely sure what’s gotten into her, but he’s not complaining.

Today, Harry is thirty.

Mia calls it the "hot age", which he’s unfamiliar with, but if it gets this type of treatment, who is he to argue?

His hair was carefully done before they attended dinner, but now, it’s a complete mess. By Mia’s orders, he’s not cut his hair for several months now, and without any product, it falls into his eyes. Her face lights up whenever he comes out of the shower and has to tuck the curls behind his ears to avoid getting his face all wet. Some days, it’s hard to scrape her off of him. He’s even been late a few times to work because of it. If he actually had to answer to someone, it may have been a problem.

“I love you,” Mia suddenly mumbles against his collar. 

Not realizing he’s closed them, Harry opens his eyes and glances down at her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She’s quiet. And then: “I’m really happy I get to see you at 30.”

He runs a thumb over her cheek. “What do you mean?”

She turns her head into his neck. “I mean – well. Eight years ago, I didn’t think I’d see you at 25, much less 30.”

“Didn’t think I’d be in your life?”

“Yeah.” 

Harry rests his chin on the top of her head. “There have been a few bumps, hm?”

(They don’t really talk about their break up much these days. Mia saw Harry struggle with accepting it and moving on from it for a very long time. Now, they’re both at ease, it seems.)

“Mhm,” Mia says. She bites down on his shoulder gently. “I hope I get to see you at 35. And 40. And 50. And 100.”

He laughs again though his heart is heavy in his chest. “Think you’ll still love me at 40 and 50 and 100? Doubt I'll be too hot then.”

She raises her head then, and Harry is surprised to see her pretty eyelashes sticking together with tears. He immediately stops smiling and puts his palms over her eyes, wiping away the moisture. He leaves a streak of mascara down her face, but that matters little right now.

Mia holds his open collar, bunching up the fabric between her fingers. She leans close, sliding her nose against his. “I wish,” she whispers, “I could put into words what I feel for you. And how it grows every time I wake up next to you. It is so–” she takes a breath, “unbearable sometimes.”

Harry swallows, too stunned for words. Mia kisses him softly, trailing her fingers down his chest, resting her fists against his butterfly tattoo. He kisses her back, pushing off the back of the couch to lean into her as well, pressing their hearts together. At some point through the kisses, his fingers become tangled in her hair. Mia pulls away to take a breath. 

When he releases her, their chests rise and fall hard with their breaths. Mia rests her forehead on Harry’s, a smile twisting onto her lips. “Happy birthday, Harry.”

He surges forward and kisses her again.

"Harry— fuck, fuck, this is bad—"

He grunts, resisting the urge to roll his eyes down at the woman beneath him. His large hands are pressing firmly into the flesh of her hips, creating temporary dents underneath his dull nails. Half-moon crescents are the only reminders she allows him to leave, even though her husband stopped caring to show her any pleasure or affection years ago.

"Of course it's fuckin' bad," he mutters throatily like if it's the most obvious thing on planet earth. And maybe it is — it probably is, considering he's over at her place for their weekly rendezvous while her kids are at school and her husband's at work.

Harry only met Y/N because his twins attend the same elementary school as her own children. And from the second he set his eyes on Y/N on the first day of school, he knew.

He could smell a desperate housewife from a mile away. She may as well have had a sign on her back that said my husband is a twat, he doesn't want to fuck me, and he wouldn't care about making me cum even if he did. From that point on, he made it his mission to one day feel her come around his cock — only, he hadn't anticipated it becoming an ongoing tradition for the past six months.

Today is Wednesday, and while Y/N's husband thinks she does the food shopping and cleans the house and whatever other stupid homely tasks he assigns to her, Harry always comes over at 11 a.m. on the dot and fucks her into their mattress until she's crying.

This day is no exception to their regimen — not as he issues harsh, stinging slaps to her ass, rolls her swollen clit beneath his thumb, or bounces her on his length. He always makes sure she finishes at least twice, cleans her up, and plants a kiss on her forehead before he's sneaking out the back door, narrowly avoiding the security cameras her husband had installed for... whatever nonsense reason.

"If you think it's so fucking bad, leave him," he grits out through a clenched jaw. Her pussy is squeezing him so tight that he feels like he could explode at any given moment, even if Y/N's mind is far away right now. She glances up at him with wide, shocked eyes.

"You don't mean that," she replies breathily. This time, he does roll his eyes.

"We've been fucking behind his back for months. I'm not telling you to leave him for me, I'm just saying, if you want a morally clean compass— shit, stop clenching around me like that—"

"Just shut up," she mutters, winding her hand around to grip at his short hair. She barely manages a grip — he cut it a few months back, but she'll admit, she can't help admiring the way it's growing in. "Just shut up and fuck me, Harry."

He scoffs, though it's quickly cut off by the yank of her hand and the quick bite of pain from her digging her fingernails into his scalp.

"Whatever you want, mama." he forces out, groaning as he slams his hips to meet hers, "Whatever the fuck you want."

Devilish

Hello my loves… welcome to the Halloween smut.

4k of pure smut.

I hope you all enjoy it! please read the warnings 💓

check out our Patreon for early access and exclusive writing!

Warnings: exhibitionism, knife play, degradation, d/s aspects, roleplay, mentions of angels/demons and heaven and hell.

She knew just how to tempt him.

The entire night, he had been watching. Waiting to strike. Really, it made sense that she had insisted she would meet him there, getting ready at her own apartment because if she hadn’t? They wouldn’t have left.

Harry had stood leaning against the wall, watching her over the lid of his glass as he watched her flounce around and socialize with their friends. She was glowing, the white contrasting against her skin, the glitter on her eyes, cheeks, and chest catching his gaze every time she moved around. She had picked an angel just to taunt him.

Harry was in all black, makeup smudged around his eyes, with devil horns sitting on top of his head. She had picked out the outfit the night before and set them up, showed him how to do some eyeliner and how to smudge it- but it seemed that she, too, had issues keeping her eyes to herself.

It was a cat-and-mouse game. Harry quietly followed her around and observed. The white tights studded with rhinestones caught the light and made his hands itch to rip them up. To make a hole and use it for his own needs. It had been boiling all night, the urge to grab her and pull her away from people's view so he could have his wicked way with her. Punish her for the excess teasing. But when he finally made up his mind, he found a flash of white going into a door.

It was close to the breaking point when he found her in the dark hallway, scrolling through her phone. Like bait. Consent had been previously established with them, so he knew it was okay to wrap a hand around her mouth, pulling her into his chest.

“Don’t you know it’s dangerous for little angels to be in the dark?” His lips grazed her ear, teeth catching on the lobe as he pressed himself against her. “You never know who’s out to get you.”

She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t been waiting for him to find her, melting into his hold while pretending to be surprised. He smelled so good, even after a few hours of being in a smoke filled room with sweaty bodies bouncing around.

“Just wanted some peace and quiet— don’t think I’ll find any here though.” She teased, pressing her ass against his crotch with a hum. “You, on the other hand… you seem to have ideas.” It was perfect really, the two of them in this hallway hidden from curious eyes. There was no way they’d make it all the way home without breaking. Going into the night they’d both known it would be a day for them to play, but neither anticipated how worked up they’d get.

Harry and Y/N weren’t new to exhibitionism, but there was only so much teasing Y/N could take before she completely let go of all her inhibitions. In the privacy of their own flat, they could really let themselves go. Times like this, though, she was a bit too out of control. She couldn’t say no.

Continuing on with the little roleplay they had going on, Y/N swiftly turned in his hold.

“You really are hotter than hell, hmm?” Her hands found their way under his thin button-up, nails digging into the soft flesh of his hips.

“You’ve no idea, little angel.” He mumbled, lips brushing her cheek as he began to back her into the corner. It was dark and a bit smoky, the music was a bit muffled back here but it wasn’t fully private. Anyone could open the door theoretically, but Harry didn’t care. “It’s cool up there in heaven, isn’t it? Don’t you get cold? So, so bland and cold.”

Y/N swallowed thickly as she felt his hands brush through her hair, combing back the tresses before one hand gathered it into a thick ponytail in his fist, tugging it sharply. A gasp opened her mouth, the pain melting into heat between her legs. “Yes.” The word was a mewl. “So cold.”

Harry clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “What a shame.” He breathed, dropping one hand down her chest. There wasn’t any resistance, Y/N arching into his touch until he took the neckline of her dress and tugged. She gasped at the cool air hitting her nipple, Harry ignoring it as he gently pinched it between his index and middle finger. “Cold. Clean. Must be so… so boring for you. That’s why you’re down here… down in the mess. You’re a curious little thing.” He leaned forward, brushing her mouth with his. “Is that why you’ve been running around, taunting me? You want to be shown a good time? Like a common slut?”

She shuddered at his words, eyes glazed over with lust. He was always so good with his words, his actions even smoother. Y/N chased his mouth as he pulled away, smiling to herself as he let out a deep chuckle. His cool nose brushed hers, clicking his tongue in reprimand. “Greedy.” His body pushed further into her. She was so warm, flushed from the hours of dancing and teasing him across the room with her hips and eyes.

“So sensitive…” Harry purred, noticing the goosebumps rising on her skin. “Why so quiet, Angel? Don’t have to be so shy. Weren’t shy before when you were dancing around with your friends, hmm? Was quite the show you put on for me.”

“Mmm… I’m not shy.” She giggled, feeling her face get warm with every wondering touch. “Just wanted to see what you would do, big scary devil man.” Y/N batted her lashes at him, “you won’t tell my secret though, right? won’t punish me for being bad… I wanna know what it’s like.”

Harry hummed, pressing her head back further as he palmed her breast. Her breathing was quick, eyes hooded with lust as she tried her best to keep up the innocent persona. It was hard when she was desperate for him.

“Maybe I should.” He mumbled. “You are bad. But you know what I am… that I quite happen to adore you being naughty.” He dropped his head, kissing over her neck. The wet meetings of his mouth across the sensitive skin had her moaning, leg moving up to hitch around his and keep steady. Her hands held his biceps, feeling them flex as he kept his hold on her.

“You do?” She breathed, eyes closing for a moment as she felt his teeth prick her neck. “I just wanted to feel good, sir. I wanted….” Her words fell off as she felt the throbbing between her thighs intensify. “Wanted to see.” Y/N almost hated how easily she melted into it, how he took control of her with ease.

“See what my darling? Gonna have to be more specific than that.” Harry smirked against her skin, each spongy kiss leaving behind the most obscene sound. He could feel her heartbeat at her pulse point, nipping a bit at the skin just to hear her breath hitch once again. “Fucking love it when you do that.”

“Yeah?” It was her turn to laugh, though it was very short-lived. Another nip at her skin had her moaning once more, bucking her hips to release some of the pressure. “Wanted to see what it’s like to be fucked by the devil, sir.” Her voice was coated in just the right amount of need.

She didn’t know how much longer she could wait. Even before they left she was already imagining them coming back and spending the night tangled up in each other. She wasn’t sure if it was the costume or if she was just that horny but she knew he needed to do something and fast.

“Please you show me?”

Harry loved her, he really did.

Not once had a match been so perfect for him. Playing these games, begging for him, being dirty in the ways he always dreamt of. She was giving him the perfect words, matching the exact energy he needed to feed into this.

There was no reply other than finally letting his mouth cover the bare nipple, pulling her into his body and licking the swollen nub to make her moan. His body hid her, the empty hallway just dangerous enough to make him feel even more aroused at the feeling. His mouth was relentless, the hunger visible in his actions. She had succeeded in driving the devil mad.

Her hands threaded in his hair, moaning softly as she felt him suck and lick at her sensitive breast, not hesitating to tug the other side down and bring her into his dirty mouth. Each side being worshipped, tugged, making her breathing heavy and her cunt hot and wet as the minutes passed.

“Oh- fuck.” She whimpered into the air, head falling back as Harry’s hand dropped head hair and slid down her back to tug the skirt up.

“Here?” He spoke against her skin, pulling back and ignoring the string of saliva connecting his lips to her nipple. “You want to be fucked here? “

“Please.” She didn’t hesitate, letting her head fall back against the wall. Succumbing to pure bliss, Y/N clenched around nothing. Feeling his hard clothed cock against her left her missing the feeling of being full.

“Want you deep inside me, can fuck me as hard as you want— they can’t hear me.” She couldn’t be bothered to play it cool, preferring to jump right into submission. Just as any naive angel would.

Harry had a habit of making her feel like he wanted to eat her alive. It made her feel so sexy, no matter what setting they were in or how she looked. Of course, on days like this when she went out of her way to look this way, it made her feel accomplished.

“Make me cry, please— I wanna feel you inside me for days.”

Harry chuckled, ignoring the pulsing in his pants. He felt heavy, full of promise for her as his cock pressed against her body. It never took too much to get his angel to bend to his will.

“Make you cry?” He grinned, placing his hands on her hips and lowering down, down, slipping under the dress. “They can’t hear you, no. But I can. No one comes in this hallway, so you feel safe. But you shouldn’t.”

His taunts had her even hotter under her skin. The rough hands slipping over her tights, pressing against her cunt and making her gasp and clench her thighs together. It was no use. “You naive, silly little angel. Letting yourself be alone with the devil. Silly, stupid little thing. S’a good think you’re absolutely gorgeous.” He sneered.

His fingers tugged, one rough one making them split. It meant it was even easier for him to catch, both hands sharply yanking and making a hole. Right where he needed it to be.

It made her a bit ashamed, how much Harry wrecking her clothes, talking to her so mean, got her absolutely drenched.

Y/N felt her stomach flip, a squeak escaping her at the feeling. The smile on her face was hard to hide, amused at how easy it was for him. He moved with no hesitation, just pure hunger and lust.

“I want you to hear me, sir.” She pleaded, eyes wide and innocent. The poor girl just wanted to be pleased. Harry was always so quick to get her there, making it so easy to get turned on. Staring into his eyes only made things that much harder, she would do anything he told her to in that moment.

“You’re so far gone, little angel… so desperate to let me ruin you, to be full of me?” He breathed, letting a finger slip into her sopping cunt. Harry let out a pleased chuckle, “Fuck, my cock could just slip right in hmm? You’re that soaked?” He stuffed another finger into her, enjoying the feeling of her heat wrapped around the digits. His favorite place.

“Please give it to me, sir.” Y/N felt her legs get weak, sinking down into the feeling of his fingers. She felt so relieved, moaning out into the empty hallway. “Your cock, please, sir.”

Harry loved when she got like this. Arching up into him, rocking on his fingers to greedily keep him inside. The fact she was just as needy as he was but showed it visibly stroked his ego.

“There’s that beg I like. What would people say if they knew an angel like you was a desperate little cockslut.” He spit the word out, curling his fingers a bit as he sunk into her, feeling the slickness coating the digits. “So shocked… so disappointed to know such a pretty little angel was taking it in dirty, dark hallways. Should be up in heaven sitting on that golden seat but instead you’re up here, begging to sit on the last cock you should ever take.”

He didn’t give in quite yet, keeping his eyes trained on hers while he fucked the fingers into her cunt. Feeling her clench and flutter around them, the hot hole trying to milk them. She wouldn’t be fully satisfied until he was truly inside of her but watching her control fray was beautiful.

“Beg a little more. If you want me to fuck you like a slut, I want to hear that mouth.” His nose brushed hers, pressing a teasing peck before pulling back.

“Please, sir, make a mess of me!” She begged, desperate to feel the stretch of his cock around her. The curve of his bulge against her thigh was enough to have Y/N feeling ravenous. “Know you want to feel a piece of heaven too… crave me, can’t help it!”

Her head fell forward, forehead resting against the crook of his neck. She pressed soft kisses to his exposed chest, nipping teasingly while her hips fucked back into his fingers.

She wasn’t wrong either. Harry was weak for her, he enjoyed watching her unravel each and every time. So much so, he liked to torture himself. Just a little longer, make her beg a little bit more.

It was easy for them to fall into this. The moment his belt was undone, she was greedy and needy, grabbing at him and pulling him close. She needed him, he needed her.

The moment she was able to get her hands on him she was demanding and telling him exactly what she wanted, feeling his fingers slip out of her cunt and battling the loss with the need to get him inside of her. “Remember your safe word.”

A squeak left her throat as she was spun around, bent slightly as her cheek pressed against the wall. He was going to take her just like this. Pressed into the corner, his body shielding her from the unlikely possibility someone came down the dark hall, but the thrill was enough to make the both of them aroused.

“There she is. A little slut for your devil.” He grinned, hiking the skirt up. “I’d use a condom, but I think it would be lovely to see my seed dripping down your angelic little cunt as you try and act normal saying goodbye to all your friends. Hm?” He brushed the tip over the slick folds, hissing in pleasure as he felt the heated wet against his hard cock.

“Please just fuck me!” She finally felt her patience on its final string. Within seconds, her wish was granted. Harry had slipped into her and set a brutal pace. His hips snapped quickly against her ass, hand snaking to rub her clit while the other supported him against the wall.

“Cockslut and a cumslut? Such a perfect little angel, hmm?” Harry praised, basking in the feeling of her soaking pussy. “Feel so fucking perfect, Angel… so fucking perfect for me.” He groaned, lips finding her neck, kissing and biting down against the hot skin.

Her skin was so soft and delicate, he felt like every kiss he placed against her would leave a bruise. He circled around her clit so slowly in comparison to his pace, he knew she liked the duality.

She could barely keep herself upright.

Harry felt too good, her knees wobbled and she tried her best to clutch the wall. His pace was rough, knowing exactly how she needed to be fucked. All night has been foreplay and she was wet enough to soak her panties, which were pulled to the side to let him in.

“Yes, yes, yes.” She cried into the air, reaching back to touch him. Grabbing at his wrist and bringing it closer, pulling her in. Everything in her wanted him deeper. Closer.

His cock was thick and hard, almost hurting a little but she loved the pain. The way he navigated her body was perfect. “That’s my girl.” He grunted. “I adore you. My little angel.”

“Yours! Fuck, I’m yours!” She gasped between thrusts, feeling her tits bouncing out of her dress. They were fucking so raw and needy, it only turned her on more. He was so deep she swore she could feel him in her stomach. This was what she had been craving, what she had been fantasizing about all night long.

“So good, so good sir, I’m—“ Her pussy clenched around him, feeling a small wave of pleasure tease her. It had her gripping him harder, begging for a release.

“So fucking horny, look at you— are you close, my love?” Harry teased, heavy pants punctuating his sentences. “This is what you were begging for all night, go on… be good like you always are.”

“Yes- m’close, so close.”

Y/N felt a bit spooked by the arrival of the buzzing feeling in her lower tummy, but this is what happened when the whole night was soft core foreplay. Brushes and giggles and kisses, almost like a roleplay.

“Pathetic.” He cooed into her ear, nipping the lobe as the sound of their sex filled the small hallway. “Desperate for cock, desperate to be fucked, you’re already close?” He ran his tongue over the hinge of her jaw, his grunts vibrating against her skin.

She was so wet he could feel it dripping down, but he wasn’t about to stop. He was just as drunk on her body as she was from getting filled. “Love my slutty angel. Your perfect pussy, such a sinner.”

“Love your cock! Feels so fucking good, please!” Y/N swore with every thrust she could come right then and there, however, her body seemed to have other plans. Her cunt was hungry for him, squeezing around him in hopes of reaching the climax that had been teasing her.

“Please, please, please! Make me cum, sir, let me— fuck!” She felt tears welling up in her eyes, the tightness in the pit of her stomach moments for release. “I-I can’t— H!” Y/N felt like she was screaming. Each filthy snap of his lips added to the rolling orgasm, legs giving in from the overload to her senses. It was overwhelming and hot, the rolling sensations hitting her as she felt him continue his unrelenting pace. There was no mercy.

“So perfect, so good for me, can you give me another one? I know you can, Angel.” Harry was relentless, continuing his rough thrusts in search of his own climax. He wasn’t satisfied with letting her cum just once, no, never on his watch. At the very least two. And maybe more at home. Now though, he wanted one more and he knew how to get it.

He reached into his back pocket, pressing the button to make the blade pop out. It wouldn’t hurt her. Quite the contrary. Harry knew how much she loved shit like this, how much she adored being held like this at his mercy. She had begged for it, and now he was going to give it to her.

Y/N was panting, shaking as she struggled to keep herself upright when she felt it. Cool metal brushed her throat, making her shake harder. She knew exactly what that was. “Yes, yes, yes, that’s- thank you.” She whined. The hint of danger. It made her go wild.

“Better keep that head up.” He cooed, rubbing the blunt blade against the sensitive skin of her throat. “Can’t believe you’re getting off on this. Filthy angel.” He pushed it a bit further against her, the wet sound of their sex filled the small space and the cold of the metal, the idea of the danger had her trembling.

“Sloppy angel cunt, makin’ messes around me. Getting off on being fucked with a knife at your throat. There’s no saving you, is there darling?” He bit down on her ear, grunting each time he filled her. She was close, and so was he. So close. He could feel it with each time he thrust, her cunt more and more unwilling to give him up. She was fucked out.

“Ha-Harry.” She babbled, eyes closing as she focused on the feeling. “Oh my god.” Her cunt spasmed around him, feeling her second orgasm approaching. “So dirty- so dirty f’you.”

“Mhmm that’s right, Angel.” Harry grunted, “Just for me, making a mess all over my cock, it’s getting everywhere baby.” He could feel her juices seeping onto and through the fabric of his jeans. He felt dirty, his cock twitching at the feeling. Harry loved it, his hips moving quicker and quicker, feeling more of her wetness trickle down his balls.

“Fucking shit—” Harry breathed, pressing kisses to her temple in hopes of coaxing another orgasm from her. Her mewls and whines let him know she was close, words leaving her mind the second she was cock drunk. “Come on angel, know you wanna let go for me, cream my cock darling…”

“Please, please, please! Don’t stop please!” Y/N was struggling to hold herself up, but her hips remained desperate. Each and every thrust had her squeezing her eyes shut, begging to cum again. The feeling of the cold metal pressing against her throat was the icing on the cake, the thought alone sending her into climax.

“Oh fuck!” She squeaked, body beginning to tremble in his hold. Her hands flew up to press against the walls in front of her once again, looking for some stability while Harry continued to fuck her sensitive cunt.

“Fucks sake… dirty Fuckin’ girl.” He hissed, relishing in the feeling of her releasing all over his length. Slick and hot, messy, everything he wanted. “That’s it, that’s my girl.”

Feeling her trying to milk him dry was enough to send him over the edge. Deep grunts ended in a groan, his lips smearing against her cheek and taking some of the tears of pleasure along with them as he began to unload.

Hot streams of cum began to spurt inside of her, his eyes closing in pleasure. This was everything. Dirty, hot, sending that thrill through their spine. The knife slid down her skin, scratching it a bit as he held it between her breasts, lazily thrusting deep to get his cum inside of her. His grip on her was tight, keeping her upright the best he could along with the wall. The orgasms had taken a lot from them, but he was obsessed.

The weak whimpers had him hushing her, the arm around her pulling her shaky form into him. “Shhh. I know, Angel. I know.” He laughed breathlessly. “Too good. Just let me stay in for a second. Let me keep my cum where it belongs.” Lips brushed her cheek and kissed the corner of her lips. “Fuckin’ love you. Christ.”

“Gonna burn if y’say that.” She peeped, fucked out time slurred as she leaned into his body. Her knees were shaky and weak and she could feel him weakly twitching inside of her.

“Smart ass little angel. If I’m gonna burn, so are you.”

Instincts*

Summary: Harry’s primal instincts catch up with him.

Trope: Husbandrry (non famous)

Warnings: breeding kink, a hint of corruption kink, dirty talk, a hint of degradation, mentions of pregnancy and body changes.

WC: 1.4k

Masterlist

Harry lost his sanity in the best way possible.

His mind couldn’t put an effort into focusing on anything except his one and only goal.

Breeding his wife.

It felt like his only purpose in life for a while now. His thoughts were composed of nothing but her ovulation days and how many loads he needed to give her.

Though—she was a bit greedy today.

Her body rested on some blankets and pillows laid out on the ground, with a lit chimney nearby. He towered over her, body glistening with sweat as the fire casted light on his skin.

His tattoos were on full display, curls hanging loosely on his forehead with his cock erect against his stomach, and dripping on her pussy.

She let out small whines as his thumb teased her swollen clit. He coaxed two orgasms out of her with his mouth, something that was set in stone in their sex life.

But—his future baby mama was ovulating, and after giving her two orgasms, it was time to fill her up.

“Look at you darling, legs open and spread. Are you that excited for Daddy’s cum?” He spat on her pussy, allowing it to mix with his dripping pre cum that was torturing her. He didn’t give her his cum yet—he’s just teasing her by allowing a small amount of it to fall on her pulsing pussy.

“Uh-huh.” She nodded immediately, drooling at the thought of getting knocked up.

Everything felt warm and lovely. Their naked bodies being near the fire as he prepared her to receive his load did something to her brain chemistry. Besides, the sight of her husband—acting so primal had her spreading her legs as wide as possible.

“Hmm, gonna be a good mama?” He leaned down, pressing a torturous peck to her glistening pulsating pussy. His tongue licked up the pre cum that dripped down, as he enjoyed the smell of her ovulating pussy that ignited something in him.

“Fill me up, please.” The plea in her voice was rushed. She loved having sex with him, that was a solid fact. But, she was weak for his naked body and thick cock.

His mannerisms and actions changed after wanting a baby. Every single thing was ten times more attractive. Things as simple as his pumped biceps and chiseled abs—or his veiny hand that choked her throat a billion times before.

“Look at you, so pathetic. Begging for my cum, but you can’t help it, can you? You need me to breed you.” He felt lucky for not passing out at the erotic sight in front of him. His wife. His lover, so bare for him with her legs spread, giving him her pussy to use and breed.

Always so good for him.

He grabbed his cock and tapped it at her clit. She tried to jerk her hips, needing some friction, but he was quick to slap her pussy.

“Behave.” He ordered her. He had to breed her properly so he was very adamant on doing everything perfectly.

He tucked his bottom lip between his teeth as his cock sank into her warm walls. It was an irreplaceable feeling—especially because he would be impregnating her.

She let out a loud whine, as her fingers gripped the pillows next to her. Her facial expressions displayed relief and ecstasy just like he expected.

“That was exactly what this pussy needed, eh? Felt relieved when I stuffed you.” He grinned, looking down at her body as she rolled her eyes when he went deeper.

Her warm wet walls were driving him insane. Just the idea of having her take his cock on her ovulation day made him dizzy.

He fastened his pace gradually, his hips moving perfectly to hit her favorite spot. Her moans were music to his ears. There was something so lustful in having her lie down and take his cock and cum.

He was ready to keep her up all night to make sure she got stuffed. Besides, his stamina and sex drive were unmatched—which is why she sometimes asked him to use her body and manhandle it as he wished.

“God look at that baby. My cock is so deep inside you.” He pressed his ring-clad hand on her stomach. “See, that means my cum will be everywhere.”

His thrusts were now rough, hitting her cervix and making her breasts jiggle. The sound of wetness has never been this loud, not to mention their skin slapping.The lit fire added to the ambiance, making them feel extra warm and hot.

“You hear that? That’s my cock breeding this pussy.” He smirked at her state—falling apart at the feeling of his thick cock fucking her warm pussy.

“M—more.” She smiled as if she was stuck in a haze.

“Oh, baby, such a cockslut. Used to be my shy virgin girl and now you’re begging me for a baby.” He tsked, feeling his ego inflate at the thought of her progress.

He corrupted his lover, but he wasn’t to blame. His cock was just too good.

He grunted upon looking down to where they were connected. His cock was slick with precum and her wetness, sliding in and out of her hole as she whined and whimpered.

“That’s right. Letting your husband use your hole for breeding.” He pulled away, watching her pussy clench around nothing upon feeling empty, before thrusting back harshly.

Her face was to die for. So pretty just for him. He loved watching her eyes roll back or seeing her sweet smile, knowing that he’s fucking her hard and fast.

She opened her mouth wide open, an indication of wanting him to spit inside. He immediately leaned in, grabbing her face roughly before spitting in her mouth.

“Shit. Dirtiest cockslut.” He sealed their lips together as he continued his brutal thrusts.

Sweat covered their bodies, and everything felt heated. The fire, their lower bodies—along with their skin on skin contact and intense kisses.

“You’ll look so beautiful with your bump and full breasts.” He panted, trying not to cum on spot at the idea.

“Yes—please.” A few tears slipped from her eyes at the intensity of their sex.

His pounding was ruthless. The way his hips drove into her could only stem from good stamina. As if he trained himself to last for her.

“Whose going to make you a mama?” He slowed down his thrusts, laying his forehead against hers.

“You.” She groaned, scratching his back.

“Whose cock is breeding you?”

“Yours.”

“Damn right.” He pulled his body away and wrapped his hand around her throat.

When she’s too gone for him, she wouldn’t tell him that she’s cumming. But he knows her body—so when she began clenching more and mumbled things under her breath, he knew.

“I know baby, let go for me. Let me give it to you.” She loved deep strokes at the end, so he switched to that.

She came on his cock without a warning. Her entire body shook under him as she moaned his name out loud, and scratched his back.

Her pussy gripped him tightly, pulsating around him and it was so fucking warm. He couldn’t hold it and followed her orgasm by filling her up.

It felt otherworldly, releasing in her like his life depended on it—making sure that he was so deep inside so that it catches.

“That’s it, let your womb have it.” The feeling of his hot cum filling her up was euphoric and intense. He prepped her face with kisses, mumbling love confessions, telling her what a perfect wife she was as she stilled his hips inside of her.

“No leaking until I pull out, m’kay?” She can still feel his cock twitching inside her as his cum flowed.

She was too lost in her thoughts, dreaming of her swollen belly and Harry sucking on her lactating tits—

“Baby?” Once he grabbed her chin, she was pulled out of her daydream.

“Are you my good breeding whore?”

She nodded immediately like it was common knowledge.

“Then clench your pussy for Daddy and hold it. No leaking please.” He whispered, before moving her hair away and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

He continued to whisper dirty things in her ear—how this was just the first load and that she deserved way more for being his good girl.

He promised her to stay up till dawn, and frankly?

She couldn’t wait.

——————————————————

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Tell Me*

Summary: An extra for Teach Me*

The one where your best friend Harry suggests a fun, friendly little game of horny Simon Says.

Word Count: 1.8k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, choking, Daddy kink

The look on his face is absolutely feral.

Your heart is in your throat. Pounding between your legs. Racing beneath your chest. 

And he’s looking at you like he’s ready to take you over his knee and show you exactly how much he’s missed you.

He takes a step forward, expression firm and never wavering. He studies you. Studies your trembling thighs, your quivering lips. He studies and he plots and he grins because he knows you’ll do anything he fucking asks.

He reaches the bed and his chin raises. “Are you gonna be good for me, Bee?”

You nod quickly. Of course. Always.

“Good.” He smiles and it makes your insides wrench. “And you still wanna play our little game?”

You nod again. “Yes, please.”

“Good girl. Then are you ready?”

“Yes.”

He smirks. “Harry says…lift your pretty skirt up.”

Quickly, you oblige, pulling the black fabric along your thighs and toward your hips. An easy task and you're eager to make him proud.

You can tell he's tempted to look. But he doesn’t. He keeps his attention on you. Only. Always. “Harry says pull your little panties to the side.”

Again, you obey. Hooking a finger around the already damp fabric and peeling it away from your cunt until the cold air finds you.

You shiver. He grins.

“Harry says spread your legs.”

You do. Easy.

He nods and his arms cross and he’s oddly calm. Focused. He takes another step closer and you could almost grab him. “Harry says show me how wet you are.”

You lean back and now he looks. He’s intrigued. Pleased. Proud. 

And the devious grin that splits his face is enough to ruin you.

“Good girl,” he murmurs and then he’s crouching down between your knees. Lining his eyes up with your cunt in the most intimate of ways. “Touch your clit for me.”

Your fingers twitch and you almost do, but you don’t. You follow the rules. You know better.

He chuckles and places his hands on your thighs, keeping you open. “Smart girl, too, hm?” He dips down and presses a kiss to your knee that has you sighing. “Harry says touch your clit for me.”

You do, instantly, and it’s everything. Even the slightest brush of contact has you reeling and you whimper as your thumb sweeps across the sensitive nerves.

He watches you for only a moment—the way you circle and pinch, the way you gasp—before he’s jutting his chin up. “Harry says stop.”

You whine. Breathless. Needy. “Harry—”

“Stop,” he repeats firmly, eyes flicking to yours. You mewl dejectedly and pull your hand away. “There you go. See, you can behave when you want to, hm?”

You nod weakly.

“Good.” He’s smiling again—coy, evil—and kissing your inner thigh. “Harry says suck your fingers.”

You bring your slightly soaked digits toward your lips and you’ve never felt so enamored. Because he is sex and he’s nipping at your skin in a way that reminds you of how good his mouth is. And you love his mouth. And the way he tugs on your body as though tempting you with the idea of tasting you but never actually giving in. 

You suck and you moan and you make a show of it.

He hums. “Harry says give me your hand.”

You relinquish your trembling hand to him and he licks a long, slow stripe up your palm. All the way to your fingers while your eyes nearly roll back.

He hums again. “Always taste so good for me, Bee. You know that?”

You watch his lips. You don’t speak. And this is an evil game, a cruel game, and even if you win, you lose. But you don’t mind because he is your prize and that's all you've ever really wanted.

He drops your hand and returns his hold to your thighs. He smiles at you. “Harry says spread your pussy for me.”

With a strained inhale, you slip your fingers down and pull yourself open. His soft, warm breath fans across your dripping cunt and you whimper quietly. Desperate to weave your fingers through his curls and bring him closer.

And he knows you, knows what you really want, so he taunts you. Kisses up your thigh, over your hip, along the band of your underwear. Everywhere but where you need him most. 

He watches you soak the bed below and he’s so incredibly smug. “Harry says tell me what you want.”

“You,” you breathe instantly. “You, Daddy, please.”

The use of the nickname surprises him. You haven’t slipped into your subspace yet but you quite enjoy the way his expression grows dark at the use of the moniker. And, truth be told, you also happen to love the way it tastes to say. 

His eyebrow lifts and his hands curl tighter around your legs. “What do you want Daddy to do, Bee?”

You swallow. Thick. “Want you to fuck me. Please.”

His lips part. He’s mesmerized and wildly intrigued. And even if he knows you’re trying to cheat by using the more dominant nickname, he doesn’t seem to care. 

He stands up. “Daddy says lay down.”

Suppressing a grin, you slowly crawl back toward the pillows and settle onto the mattress. And he looks at you like he’s never seen anything so beautiful, so enticing. You imagine if this were a cartoon, he’d be drooling, and you don’t miss the twitch in his fingers as he attempts to resist chasing after you.

Instead, he’s deliberate. Practiced. Following you onto the duvet and hovering above you before nodding again.

“Daddy says take me out.”

You reach for his belt. Pulling it through each loop before tossing it toward the floor and continuing to his zipper. Once you have enough room, you slip into his briefs and find him. Hard, heavy, and leaking in your palm. You almost drool, too.

You take him out and your lashes flutter as you glance up at him. Looking for his approval which he gives you almost far too easily.

“Good girl,” he whispers. His voice is labored. Thick with lust. “Daddy says put me in.”

You bring him closer and run him up and down your pussy a time or two while you both shudder. And then, just when you think you can’t take it anymore, he slips in. And everything changes.

He curses and you gasp and the game is over. It doesn’t matter who won because this is why you play. For this feeling, this moment. This familiar and addictive stretch as he pushes in and sends you over the edge.

He puts a hand on your throat and his mouth finds yours. He kisses you—hard, hungry. Sloppy and rushed but full of love. He adores having power over you, but he loves you more. Getting to take you anyway he wants you.

He squeezes your delicate neck and your vision blurs around the edges in the most delicious of ways. He knows what you like and he knows that you’d gladly put your life in his hand any goddamn day of the week. So, he holds you, and he chokes you, and he waits until your gasps are shallow before loosening his grip ever-so-slightly.

“Shit,” he exhales before he’s pulling back and thrusting in. “God, you’re so tight today, lovie.”

You arch off the bed and reach for his back. Nails scraping down his spine while his dark shirt wrinkles beneath your hands. “Daddy, please—”

“I know.” He bites your neck. Pulls the skin between his teeth and laps at it with his tongue. “Fuck. I know, baby. Feels so good, doesn’t it? Poor little cockslut was just so empty while I was gone, hm?”

You nod fervently. You hate when he leaves, hate when his job takes him on trips away from you. And fucking yourself isn’t nearly as good as when he does it.

And he knows it.

“Say it,” he hisses. “Fucking tell me how good I feel.”

You reach for his ass and grip. “So good, Daddy. Needed you so bad.”

He nips at your earlobe and then returns to your mouth. The sound of his cock fucking into your pussy is loud, almost as loud as the sound of him sucking your tongue. And it almost ends you, right there.

He smells like vanilla and sex. A musky, familiar scent that seems to seep into your bloodstream and go straight to your clit.

You don’t imagine either one of you will last much longer, not after being away all this time. But you try, you do. You meet his thrusts as best you can and you kiss your name into his neck until he groans.

“So many things I wanna do to you,” he whispers and he’s gentler now. “God, Bee. You have no idea what I wanna do to you. All the things I imagined as I fucked my fist just thinking of you.”

“Tell me,” you whimper. “Tell me, please, Daddy—”

He curses again. “Want you to sit on my face until I can’t fucking breathe. Wanna taste you—gotta taste you, baby. Missed it so fucking much.” He reaches for your clit and you moan. “Wanna eat my cum out of your pretty pussy and I wanna make your thighs fucking shake.”

God. You tug on his curls and you’re so close. So fucking close.

“Then I wanna watch you bounce on my cock,” he says. His thrusts are harder now. Faster. Sharper. “Wanna bend you over and watch this pretty little ass shake for me.”

Your leg hooks around his hip and you whine his name.

“Wanna have you in the shower, in the kitchen, in the living room, in the car, against the window so they can all watch. Fucking everywhere.”

A strangled sound leaves your throat and you know he means it.

“Want you to fucking own me, Bee.” He slips his hand around the back of your neck and pulls on your roots. “Cause you do. You know that? You fucking own me. I’m yours. Always—”

“Harry,” you gasp.

“Show me you know that,” he hisses. He’s almost there. “Show me you fucking know that I belong to you—”

You come and when you do, everything changes. Lights are brighter, sounds are louder, life is sweeter. You see stars and you see him and you don’t need to see anything else ever again. 

He follows right after, unable to resist the way your pussy clenches around him as you come. He’s warm and it feels like heaven. You hold tight to his shoulders and you ride each other through. It’s not until you writhe away from the ministrations on your clit that he slows to a stop and drops his face to your neck.

“Fuck,” he exhales. You have to agree. “M’sorry. I tried to make it last longer, I swear—”

“No,” you whisper. You take his cheeks between your hands and lift his face to yours. “No, it’s okay. It was perfect, I promise.”

He sighs. “I know, but after all that time, I just…I wanted to do better—”

You shush him and nuzzle your nose against his. “Harry, it was perfect. Trust me. That’s exactly what I wanted.”

“Yeah?” 

You grin. “Yeah.” You kiss him. “That was quite a fun game.”

He laughs now and the sound is like magic. “You think so?”

“I do. Love it when you tell me what to do.”

He smiles again but you notice the devious expression returning. “Is that right, lovie?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He hums and it’s wicked. “Then maybe we should play another round, hm?”

Your stomach flips. You nod.

He smirks.

“Then Daddy says…on my fucking face.”

~ Full Teach Me Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

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Oh ohhhhh friends to lovers pleaseeeee

6. "I wanna take you so fucking bad."

OHHHHH YES

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-----

Harry really wasn't sure how he ended up here.

It was a scenario from his dreams, ones he'd never admitted to having to anyone else before, but he didn't know how he'd even gotten into this position with his best friend. Wine night had gotten out of hand, some sort of something had been said and the next thing he knew he had a lapful of Y/N and wine stained lips pressed against his own.

Her pajama pants were pulled tight on her ass, his hands unable to keep the temptation of it away from his brain. Rocking on top of him, she whimpered softly as his lips pressed to her hot throat. The layers between them felt flimsy and he could feel how hot she was for him. His best friend of 5 years, rolling her hips and holding his face against her sweet spot on her neck.

"H-Harry..." She breathed, tugging softly on the hair at the nape of his neck. "It feels so good... Why does it feel so good?" Her slow grind against his prick made him roll his eyes back into his head. It was childish, something he hadn't done in years, but it felt better than his last year of hookups combined. "Why didn't we do this before?"

Y/N always asked the real questions.

"Dunno... Should have." His fingertips pressed into the curve of her ass, the hot skin exposed from her shorts moving up. "God...You smell amazing." It was the little things like that. Teeth nipping her throat and being engulfed in her, realizing just how much he gravitated towards certain candles because they smelled like her. His brain always knew, was always plotting this even if he was trying his hardest not to. "I wanna take you so fucking bad." The voice that came from his throat was unfamiliar to him, wrecked and desperate. "But I can't. Not now."

"No... Please." She begged, pulling him from her neck to look at him. "Please, H. I need it so bad, I can't... I can't stop." He could see it in her face. She meant it. Y/N really wanted him to take her, and god knew his cock was desperate to sink into her hot cunt, get deep inside, stay there. Milk every drop of cum her had inside of her. But not like this.

"Can't... Not when we've been drinking." He frowned. "M'not gonna stop this.... Gonna let you rub yourself on my cock and let you cum. Not that cruel." He squeezed over her ass harder to get that pretty whimper from her mouth. "But I can't do it like this. You deserve more. If I'm going to fuck you... M'gonna do it right." He breathed, connecting their lips again. She tasted so sweet, the tiniest hint of sour from the drinks but it only added to it.

"How?" She whined. "How are you going to fuck me?"

It shouldn't have been so easy for him to spill, but it was. "Need you on a bed. Not my couch." He started, deciding to let his hands slip under her shorts and feel the full warmth of her skin against his. "Strip you down, get to see how gorgeous you are. I know it's gonna ruin me, sweetheart." No lies were told. They wouldn't be able to come back from that. "Kiss down your body... Gonna make little marks for you to remember me by. On your perfect tits, that stomach, those gorgeous thighs... Everywhere I can." His hands aided her rocking, shifting her just so and getting the gasp he'd desperately wanted from her. The thin shorts and his sleep pants were barely layers and he knew this would be the way to get her clit the way she needed.

"Then I'm going to split those thighs open and kiss you down there. Lick you up. Start slow and tease you a little, make you beg for me just like you did before... But then I'll give it to you. Suck on that clit until you can't take it and push my head away, make you cum on my tongue and stretch you out with my fingers. Know you're going to be a sopping fucking mess. Gonna want it all over my face."

"Fuck." Y/N keened, gripping his hair tighter. The action alone made his prick twitch in his poor excuse of pants, feeling the heat of her cunt bleed through and warm him up. Soon enough she'd soak those shorts and he'd be able to feel it make a mess of him. "What else?"

"Greedy thing, aren't you?" He chuckled. "mm.. Want to feel that mouth wrapped around my cock. Dreamt of it so many times but... Think I want our first time to be about you. Dunno how long I'd last with it." The mere idea of her sucking him off had been the subject of many wanks and he knew it would take an embarrassingly short amount of time to orgasm. "So instead, I'd spread you open and take you. I'd want to take you on your back at first- need to see the look on that perfect face while my cock stretches that cunt open." He groaned at the mere thought. "But I think we'd switch around a bit." One hand slipped out of the back of her shorts to go up her shirt instead. The hot skin of her back warmed his palm as he dragged it up and down.

"I'd love t'take you just like this. Watch you bounce on me, make a mess of my lap. Have your tits in my face..." He let his hand graze the side of one, making her shiver. "Suck on them. Make them wet and swollen for me, just like your cunt. But you'd get tired, hm pretty girl? Bouncing up and down like that, gonna make your legs burn... So I'd flip you over and get you on your knees..." His voice was muffled for a moment as she kissed him again with her sugary mouth. "I'd get you on your knees and watch you take me. See your ass move and hit my thighs... How you'd arch your back for me. I think that would be perfect." His hand kneaded her ass, spreading it a bit roughly as she gave him another pretty gasp. Her eyes were bleary and soft as she looked down at him, heat behind the gaze as she rutted on top of him.

"Would you do it hard?" She asked, swallowing thickly. "Would you spank me?"

Harry's eyebrows raised in shock at the question, but it shouldn't have. Of fucking course she was perfect for him. There was no way around it. "Yeah, I would. I'd go at the pace you want... and you're obviously a filthy thing. Had no clue you wanted something like that, but I'd give it to you." he pulled her back down to his lips, slipping his hand out of her shirt to give a light slap to her ass before rubbing over the area to soothe. It wasn't the hardest he could have gone but it was testing the waters. "Like that?"

When she shook her head, he couldn't help but smile. "Harder?" He repeated the action, harder this time. It made her jolt, the stinging skin getting a whimper as she nodded against him. "Fuck me... You're what I needed all along, aren't you? Been under my nose the whole fucking time."

malibu

y/n finally has her dream life with her perfect husband. she just needs one more thing to make this the perfect night

wordcount: 14k+

—————

(Y/N) hummed in the kitchen, the hem of her powder blue dress swaying just below her knees as she listened to the shenanigans of Lucille Ball on the television set she had turned on in the living room. Tonight's dinner of a three-cheese lasagna was cooling on the stove top with the scent of basil and garlic warming the air. The pastry dough she'd just pulled from the refrigerator was still chilly as she rolled it out on the turquoise colored laminate covering her countertops, trying her best to make it thin enough she could see just a hint of the color underneath but not too thin as to ruin the hard work she put into layering the butter and pastry. Her diamond ring sat next to the sink, safely stashed away from tarnishing against the dinner she was finishing up for Harry's arrival home. 

Just above her work station was a glass window, warped just like a funhouse mirror at the carnival Harry had taken her on their first date all that time ago, but it didn't hide the view of her backyard. She was still getting used to the view of the beach in the distance. Despite there being a row of neighbors to either side of their new home, the development they'd moved into not long ago still had the open space that (Y/N) was sure was going to be made into another set of homes if Harry's predictions about Malibu's growth were right. 

Until then, she was going to take advantage of the sea view offered by her kitchen window, the sound of the waves crashing when she cracked open the glass, and the near constant sunshine that streamed through. Malibu was definitely a change from the rainy days she shared with Harry up until they moved less than a year ago, leaving their hometown where they fell in love to chase an opportunity he said could change their lives—set them up for a beautiful life together like the one he promised her in his wedding vows. 

It was hard leaving her family, but being by Harry's side as they forged their own path outside of the small opportunities offered back home was more than enough to make up for the heartache.  She couldn't be more proud of the man she was watching him become outside of their family's shadows.

The company he'd been brought into was doing so well, Harry walking around town with pride in his chest and a glowing smile on his face every time he could indulge (Y/N) in a dinner at the nice seafood restaurant on the coast, or even just a fresh bouquet of flowers he picked up on his way home. Nothing could beat the day he came running through the front door after work, calling to her from where she was cleaning up after her own workday, bright smile molding his features and chest heaving with the breath he was catching after running through the house. 

That was the day he told her about the major promotion he'd been offered, now seated just under the head of the company. The pay raise had been substantial—something they celebrated by buying their first television set—, and he'd be able to start coming home at reasonable times instead of doing the brunt work and staying late enough (Y/N) had to keep his dinner plate warm until he walked through the door hours after the sun dipped below the ocean line. It was what they had dreamed about the day they packed up and moved out West. It only made it better when (Y/N) realized that the promotion meant she no longer had to work as a secretary at town hall if she didn't want to (which she didn't. One of the councilman was a rat and did not respect the happy marriage she was in despite how many times she'd brought up the Mr. to her Mrs. or shown off the wedding photograph she had propped up on her desk). 

Now, she'd had a few months to settle into the life they had dreamed about when they laid out on the soccer field back home at the school where they fell in love. She made friends with some of the other families in the neighborhood and took pleasure in keeping house for Harry—he called it their love nest. She reveled in taking care of the details; fluffing the pillows, arranging Harry's records in perfect display, and trying to tame her growing book collection though there was always at least three novels spaced out around the house she promised to return to later before getting distracted. 

(Y/N) felt like the luckiest woman in the world when she settled into their emerald green couch at the end of the day. She had wonderful friends only a door away, a loving husband, and a beautiful home that smelled of the sweets she baked throughout the week. 

Today, she was trying out a recommendation from one of neighborhood friends: a peach and apple pie with cinnamon and sugar infused in the crust and almonds layering the bottom of the pan. When she had told Harry about it, he had lit up at the mention of peaches—his favorite summer fruit, he'd told her once in the backseat of his car when they were only teenagers. As she layered the now perfectly thin crust into the pie dish Harry's mother had gifted them as a wedding present, (Y/N) listened to the sound of laughter emanating from their television and hoped today's dessert would live up to Harry's expectations. 

Working quietly, (Y/N) finished filling her pie dish with the sweetened peaches and crisp apples before layering over the top in criss-crossed strips of crust. On instinct, the first thing she did was wash up her now free hands before slipping her wedding ring back on. The diamond sparkled in the light, refractions dancing over the sink for just a moment before flickering out once (Y/N) strayed from the sunlight. 

She felt accomplished once she slipped the completed confection in the oven, untying her apron before hanging it on the hook pinned to the wall by the fridge. Dinner was ready and waiting for the moment Harry walked through the door, with dessert baking away in the oven, sure to fill the house with the scent of cinnamon and sugar once the buttery mixture melted in with the fruit. Nothing but happiness filled her as she stood in the middle of her dream kitchen, waiting for her dream man to come home and tell her he loved her just as he did when he walked out the door that morning. 

As if she manifested it, Harry came through the door just as the vision of him with his slicked back hair and navy blue suit he left in this morning entered her mind. 

"(Y/N), darling, 'm home!" he called through the house, speaking over the beginning notes of The Danny Thomas Show sounding from their television set. 

Her skirt fluttered around her knees as she rushed out of the kitchen, heels clicking on the tiles. "Harry," she beamed, her voice taking on a dreamy quality once she caught sight of him. 

The briefcase he left the house with every morning was saddled by the door right next to the lunch pail she packed for him before he left for work as he pulled off his jacket, the rebellious set of tattoos he'd been collecting since they were teenagers winking through the thin white fabric of his dress shirt. His hair had fallen from the carefully slicked back 'do he had crafted in the mirror that morning, a rogue curl falling over his forehead while the rest of the waves struggled to make themselves known. It made him look younger, (Y/N) thought, harkening back to the days on the field at school, dimples deep in his cheeks and hair messy and curling enough that his mother nagged him to get a haircut. 

Malibu looked good on him.

Harry didn't even hesitate once he had his suit jacket hanging over the back of their sofa before he was gathering his wife up into his arms, (Y/N)'s own looping around his neck. Burying his face in the crook off her neck, he hummed out a sigh that rumbled his chest. 

"I missed you," he practically purred, "Left the house thinking about you, and never stopped." 

Despite the fact their modest wedding had occurred just over a year ago, it felt like the honeymoon hadn't worn off. Of course, they'd had their own set of problems and disagreements to get through (the move was probably one of the most stressful times in (Y/N)'s life and she made sure to let Harry know that), but never once had those butterflies flown from her tummy or the excitement of waking up beside him fade. Now being married herself, she doesn't think she'll ever fully understand sitcom families where the husband and wife weren't tripping all over themselves to be with one another. That just wasn't her and Harry.

"I missed you, too, H," she said, mussing the baby hairs that played on the nape of his neck. After making sure to squeeze him super tight one last time, she pulled away with the intention of only moving far enough back to see his face and nothing more. She was met with a beaming smile and softly flushed cheeks, mossy green eyes adoring as they traced her features. "How was work, honey?" 

His smile grew as did the dimples denting his cheeks at the gentle term of endearment she slipped in. He barred his arms around around her waist, his forearms creating a solid cradle that lined the small of her back as he canted his head down at her. "It was good. Had to review and approve m'first round of expense reports since the promotion, and—I can't lie, darling—it was so boring that I almost asked if I could go back to m'old position." 

(Y/N) only shook her head with a short smile on her lips, "It couldn't have been that bad." 

"It was awful, 'm telling you!" Harry exasperated, though his own mouth threatened to fall victim to a smile. "Towards the end of it, I had to start using a calculator I borrowed from accounting to double check if two plus two really was four or if I was losing it." 

A playful roll of her eyes molded her expression into something teasing. "What a hard life you lead—sitting in your cushy office with a beach view, checking numbers someone else did the hard work of crunching together." 

"I know," Harry sagged, playing along, "I don't know how I do it, precious. Sometimes, I wonder if I lost it ages ago, and all of this has been a dream. Wouldn't surprise me." 

"You're so dramatic, Harry Edward," she scolded him, though the reprimand held little weight through her smiling mouth. "Ridiculous." 

"But y'love me, anyway," he said, ducking his head down and pursing his lips in wait for a kiss. 

He didn't pose much of a question, but (Y/N) couldn't help but reaffirm him. "I do love you," she whispered before granting him the kiss he was practically begging for. 

Harry hummed into the kiss, contentment seeping through and coating her lips like honey. Still situated by the front door, arms wrapped round one another with Harry in his work clothes and (Y/N) in the nice dress she changed into before she started work on the dessert baking away in the oven, they didn't have any plans to move. Especially not with the way her husband gazed down at her like he didn't even see the rest of the house around them, only taking in the home standing right in front of him. 

"What did y'do today, (Y/N)?" he asked, the genuine interest in his gaze painting warmth over her in broad stripes. She loved when he said her name like that.

"Nothing too exciting," she sighed, shuffling on the toes of her heels, "After you left for work, I went over and saw Sarah and the ladies for brunch, and Connie told everyone she wants to start a book club with the ladies from the neighborhood, but I don't know if I'm going to join. I don't think I'd much like the books she'd pick out, but we'll see. Then I called our moms—they want us to visit soon, by the way—before I went to the post office to mail off a couple of those photos we took at the beach last week to both of them. But after that, I spent the rest of the afternoon reading before I started dinner." 

"Connie wants to start a book club?" he blanched, brows knitting in disbelief as he'd been stuck on that detail.

"That's what I thought!" (Y/N) bubbled, the strands of hair framing her face fluttering at her flustered movements, "Sarah and I had to keep from laughing when she suggested it. I almost choked on my quiche." 

"Wasn't she the one refused to speak to you for weeks when she saw your copy of Bonjour Tristesse on the table?" Harry pressed, canting his head as he tried to wrap his mind around it. 

"Yes, and she's the one that told me the only book she's read in the last three years was Eloise because she thinks adult literature is growing 'corrupt'." 

Harry almost looked pained as he recalled that specific story (Y/N) had come home with after having lunch with her friends. "Darling," he stressed, a shake of his head following after, "I don't think y'should join that book club." 

"I'll have to talk to Sarah tomorrow and see if she thinks we should join just to see what Connie thinks is worthy of having weekly meetings over, but I don't think I'll be reading any of her recommended books." 

He let out a laugh at her words before tipping his chin a pressing a soft kiss to (Y/N)'s forehead. "I don't blame you," he muttered under his breath, "Y'had a busy day, precious. I don't know how y'handle all of them and still have time to make dinner and take care of the house. You're too good for me." 

A heat filled (Y/N)'s cheeks, smile blooming like the bouquet of peonies that Harry had brought home Monday night to her. "No, I'm not, H. Don't say that. We're perfectly matched, don't you think?" 

"I don't know, love," he sighed, looking at her like she was a dream or an otherworldly creature that he couldn't comprehend, "I think I got really lucky with you. Don't know what I did to convince y'to love me forever, but I'll take it." 

(Y/N) didn't know what to say as she took in his affectionate words, her heart beating to the tune of his name. She shied in his hold, shifting in his arms to hug him around the waist with her cheek pressed against his shoulder. Harry's own arms tightening around her, keeping her safely cradled into his form.

"Where'd all this come from?" she peeped, finally finding her voice amid all of the heart shaped clouds that puffed through her head, "You're going to make me cry if you're not careful, honey." 

Harry hummed, his chest rumbling under her cheek. His contentment was clear as he began to sway them on the small rug that carpeted the tile by the front door. "I listened to Etta all day in m'office while I did paperwork—can't blame me for feeling extra in love with you," he gently argued, his nose skimming the top of her head. 

"And to think I thought you would be in an Elvis mood," she started, skating over his affectionate words in fear of her heart falling out of her throat if she tried to speak around it, "I even got your records out and everything." 

"Mm," he hummed, reluctantly drawing away from her though he made sure to wrap one of her hands up in his as he towed her along with him to his stack of precious records he began collecting the second they had the money to do so, "I can think of one of his songs I want to listen to, darling" 

He thumbed through the stack she laid out for him, the covers worn and crinkled at the corners from near-constant use. (Y/N) watched his long fingers flick through the album sleeves until he pulled out the record he was seeking, shooting her a sly glance before slipping his hand out from hers. He gave her his back as he played with the gramophone, adjusting the needle after laying the record gently on the base. The familiar static buzz of the speaker filled the air as the record spun, the grooves not quite catching on the pick until the first notes of Harry's chosen song joined the fray. 

(Y/N) tilted her head with a small smile as soon as she recognized the music now filling her living room, Danny Thomas and his family completely forgotten on the television screen. Mr. Presley crooned out the opening lyrics of First In Line, one of Harry's favorites to sing to her when he was feeling particularly in love with her. 

Harry wasted no time in collecting her in his hold, his palm conforming to the curve of her waist whilst he laced the fingers of his other hand through hers, palms pressed together. He held their joined hands just between their chests as he started swaying her to the music, dimples deep in his cheeks as he gazed down at her, looking all too smug. 

Unable to shake the smile from her face as she danced in the living room with her husband, (Y/N) spoke around it as she told him, "You're such a cheese, H. I should've known you'd play this."

Faux-offense molded his features as he spun her around, her skirt fluttering around her shins before she was settled once again in his hold. "'M a cheese for loving m'wife? Since when is that so bad?" he argued, a light shining behind his green eyes as he ducked his head down to match her gaze, "Besides, as far as I remember, y'like it when 'm a cheese." 

"Maybe," she countered with a shrug, turning her head before he could catch just how much she really did love when he became especially sticky and sweet on her. 

His hand on her waist disappeared before landing on the round of her smiling cheek, pulling her back to face him. That proud grin on his face only grew once he felt how heated she was under his palm, blood glowing under her cheeks. "See? 'M right, aren't I? I see y'getting all shy, don't lie. Y'love when 'm soft on you." 

With his steadying hand on her cheek and the soft of his thumb running along the height of her cheekbone, (Y/N) felt her features round out and soften all that much more as soon as her eyes met Harry's. He liked when she got like this, he'd told her before, all shy and warmed by his love; he said once it reminded him of the girl he met all that time ago when she moved next door to him, quiet and shy and so pretty, he decided then he wanted to know her. 

"Maybe," she repeated on a breath, brain a little too preoccupied trying to dedicate this vision of him to memory to think of anything more brilliant to argue with. She watched as his grin grew and dimples deepened at her response; he knew he won.

Shaking his head before dipping down and pressing a gentle kiss to the bridge of her nose, Harry held her close as the final notes of Elvis's crooning voice filled their living room, the much more upbeat tone of Paralyzed now replacing it. Harry left it to play as he unraveled himself from around his wife, only reaching back to turn down the music and flick off the television before tugging her along with him towards the kitchen. 

"Said y'finished dinner already, darling?" he asked her, casting his gaze over his shoulder at her, the heels of his fancy work shoes clicking over the tiles.

"Mhm," she hummed, finding her voice despite the distracting view of his contracting muscles under the stretch of his shirt, "It's—uh—it's that lasagna I told you one of the ladies recommended. It should be cooled down by now, if you're ready." 

Harry feigned a nonchalant shrug before slipping his hand out of hers in favor of reaching for some glasses and the bottle of wine he had stowed atop of the fridge. "Yeah, I think I could eat before I take y'upstairs." 

(Y/N)'s mouth went dry at the implication of his words, thighs squeezing under the cover of her dress. "You want to take me upstairs?" 

Casting a glance over his shoulder, his face displayed something incredulous, like he couldn't be sure she was really questioning him. "Of course I do, silly. Where have y'been for the last twenty minutes?" 

Despite his teasing, she couldn't stop the smile that took her lips and the heat that bubbled under her skin. "I'll get everything ready, then," she said, reaching for a duo of plates to dish out tonight's dinner onto. With her back to him, spatula in hand as she cut out squares of the cooled lasagna, (Y/N) listened to the clinking of glasses before a wine cork was dislodged from the bottle. She swallowed, voice coming out like a secret, "Y-You'll take me upstairs after, though?" 

"If I can wait that long," Harry answered in a beat, voice casual like (Y/N) wasn't feeling her muscles unravel and tighten all at the same time as he spoke. He might as well have been asking her if she wanted to see Marilyn Monroe's new movie this weekend with how dismissive his tone was.

Swallowing, all (Y/N) was able to peep out was a quiet okay, as she grated extra cheese on the top of their lasagna squares. She took her time as she dished out helpings of the leafy salad she had off to the side and the twisted breadsticks she'd learned the recipe for from Harry's mother. The plate assembly was a needed distraction as she processed his words. 

Her voice came back to her as she turned with the filled plates in hand to find Harry sat at the head of the dinner table, a glass of wine dictating where she was meant to sit across from him. He had rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, leaving his forearms bare, the multitude of ink on his left arm looking especially dark with the help of the fading sunlight leaking in through the sliding glass door behind him. That one stray curl that refused to stay in place still hung over his forehead, matching the boyish charm that lit up his eyes once he caught how flustered his wife was. All it took was the raise of an eyebrow at her, dimple threatening to dip into his cheek, that she spoke again. 

"And if you can't? Wait that long, I mean," she murmured, settling his plate in front of him first. 

He shrugged, catching her eye again with his cute smile full of white teeth and raspberry colored lips. "Guess I'll jus' have to have y'on the table, then." 

(Y/N) couldn't even have hoped to school her features into a more lady-like reaction before her jaw fell open, parting her lips into a small gape, gaze going dreamy and rounded while the set of her shoulders bowed. Her breathing hitched in her lungs, the air coming out in a puffed exhale she hadn't intended on letting out. There was nothing in her head that she could compute as she looked at him, innocent expression on his face despite the words that hung in the air between them. 

The seconds she lagged behind in getting herself together only served to make Harry more and more smug over his effect on her. The spell was broken as soon as he patted her on the bottom, urging her towards her already set up spot at the table, red wine in a crystalline glass at the ready. "Go sit down, darling," he told her, "I think y'need to eat a little bit before we talk any more about that, hm?" 

On stilted legs, she moved to her spot at the dinner table, facing Harry at the other end. She could feel his eyes on her with every step, her heels clicking over the tiled floor in sparks of noise. (Y/N) tried her best to settle her features, even out her reaction a little more before she sat down and had to face him again. She figured she didn't do too stellar of a job when Harry's grin could be seen over his wine glass as he took a sip. 

A beat passed as they cut into their food, (Y/N) doing so on autopilot as she couldn't shake the vision of Harry bending her over the dining table and taking her just as he said, before her husband let out a praising moan around the food. 

"(Y/N)," he started, affection dripping from his voice as it wrapped around her name in a loving squeeze, "this is wonderful. Y'said the ladies gave y'the recipe?" 

Perking up under his praise, she cast him a genuine smile around her heart in her throat. She nodded her head, hair fluttered about at the motion, "It was Glenne's recipe. There's like three different cheeses, and marinated garlic, and all this other fancy stuff. It kept me busy." 

"This might be m'new favorite," Harry pressed, his smile going lopsided as he gazed at her, "Best chef in the neighborhood, I swear." 

"I don't know about that," she brushed off through her smile, feeling her features heat for a different reason this time. 

He was the best at distracting her, she realized, as he continued speaking. Though she still yearned for the moment she could hopefully convince him to do anything—take her here on the table or upstairs to their bedroom—, he was definitely doing his part of distracting her with sweetened praises and questions of what book it is that she read today. 

She just hoped he wouldn't be so good at it that he forgot that promise. 

—————

"I can wrap up some leftovers and send them with you to work tomorrow, if you want?" 

(Y/N) cleared up the table, her setting already waiting in the sink as she had put it away when getting Harry's second serving of the night. She spoke over her shoulder to Harry as he still sat at the dinner table, glass of wine down to the final sip as his eyes followed her. 

"That would be nice, darling, thank you," he smiled, stretching in his seat before leaning into the carved back, "Then, I'll get to brag to everyone about not just how smart and pretty my wife is, but she's the best cook in town, too. Marinates her own garlic and everything." 

"See? Just like I said—you're a cheese," she laughed, shaking her head before focusing her attention on the dinner plates now soaking in the soapy water filling the sink. 

Dinner had gone by quietly, Harry being the sweetheart he always was and asking her more about her own day before providing anecdotes about his own, making plans with her for this weekend, and obnoxiously praising her cooking. While he'd done a good job of steering the conversation towards safe dinner table talk, she still couldn't shake the anticipation that grew in the pit of her stomach every time he opened his mouth. She wondered every time if this was going to be the moment that he declared he could no longer wait around, that he wanted to take her right now. She wondered if he would push his plate out of the way and knock his wine to the side before hiking her up onto the table and serving her up like his most preferred meal. 

Seeing as how (Y/N)'s dress was still buttoned to her neck and every piece of china was in perfect condition, that moment never came. Instead, she dished out a second helping of his new favorite dinner and sat with her glass of wine as she talked to him about anything other than the warmth that had gathered between her thighs. Besides, she still had hope that even if she didn't get bent over the dining table with Harry pressing into her from behind, that she'd at least have the weight of his body hovering over hers as he worked her into their mattress upstairs. 

As she laid out their plates on the drying rack stationed to the side of the sink, (Y/N) felt a pair of arms slip around her waist before a pair of lips dropped a kiss to the cuff of her shoulder. A gentle smile tugged at her lips as her hands slowed in the soapy water, only a set of forks sitting at the bottom of the sink. Harry's arms were strong around her waist, her form being hugged back into his chest tight enough she could feel the expanding of his lungs with every deep inhale. 

"Have I told y'how pretty y'look today?" he mumbled into her skin, the words being stamped over her pores and sinking into her melting system. 

Tipping her head to the side, she offered the expanse of her neck for him to trail his kisses over, the warmth of his mouth heating her blood. "Maybe a little." 

"Doesn't sound like I've said it enough then, does it?" he countered, his hold on her loosening until his palms were on either side of her hips. He took advantage of the grip and spun her around in his arms. He gazed down at her with heat hiding behind the jade of his eyes, tracing languidly over her features while his arms looped around her waist. "So, so gorgeous, darling," he praised her, voice a breathy whisper tinted with the scent of the cherry-noted merlot they shared, "And so patient, aren't you? Saw y'squirming all through dinner, but not once did y'interrupt me or whine for taking m'time—not even when I asked for seconds." 

Swallowing around the lump of her heart that climbed up her throat, (Y/N) whispered, "You noticed?" 

"Of course, I did, darling," Harry told her with pure confidence, cocking his head to the side as if he couldn't believe she was asking, "Had m'eyes on you the whole night, of course I noticed my pretty little wife getting antsy, waiting for me to bend her over the table." 

It was the way her jaw fell open, lips agape, and eyes gazed up at Harry in a dreamy daze that made it almost too clear how on the nose he was. That confidence that shone in his eyes spread over his face as his lips quirked into a lopsided grin, all too smug to be fair with his dimples softening his features.  She floundered over a response, restless fingers busied with the buttons on Harry's top. 

"I mean," she swallowed, trying her hand at his signature nonchalance though she didn't pull it off nearly as well as she couldn't pluck her gaze from her hands on his chest, "I wouldn't have complained if that happened." 

Harry's response lagged, causing (Y/N) to pull her eyes from the sheer pink painted over her nails, to find him looking to her with the blunt of his teeth digging into his bottom lip. His eyes were clear as he scanned them over her features, tracing over the planes of her face before dropping to the curve of her throat. She watched as he followed the lines and slopes of her neck, the smooth skin disappearing under the collar of her dress. She felt exposed even with the cover of her dress, fingers growing restless as she plucked at the buttons fastening his shirt to the broad of his body with her wedding band glimmering in the lowlight. 

"And what would y'have done if I did do that, since y'weren't going to complain?" he murmured to her, the air in the room being sucked out as he dropped the volume of his tone. 

Her breathing was interrupted as she struggled to figure out how to tell him how good she would have been for him had he pulled her out of her chair and flipped her skirt up. She didn't know how to articulate how quickly she would have dropped to her knees in the middle of their meal if he gave her the right look, ready to please him. She didn't know how to express that she wouldn't have blinked an eye seeing their china fall to the ground and wine splash over the tiled floor with a sweep of his arm before tugging her up with her back flat on the table before placing himself between the cradle of her thighs, driving his hips between her legs. 

"Y'would've let me, wouldn't you?" he mused, voice growing thick and dark like molasses. His hold on her shifted, his arms falling from the loop they made around her waist to anchor his hands on either side of her hips, the flare fitting into his palms. With his new grip, he kept her steady as he pressed his hips flush against hers, the ridge of his hardened cock pressing into the soft of her stomach through her linen dress, the fabric creasing and molding itself around him. Harry didn't need an answer before he continued, backing her up in the direction of the dining table behind her as he said, "Y'would have just laid there pretty for me while I had m'fill, huh? Perfect little wife, taking care of her man, aren't you? Work so hard all day to keep you in your pretty dresses and nice house, least y'could do is have me between your legs, relax with your pussy around m'cock." 

If not for his hands on her hips, (Y/N) swore she would have toppled to the ground; bones emulating her soft insides that were willing to turn into anything, bend into any shape at Harry's will. Her steps backwards were nothing more than clumsy shuffles as she couldn't find anything in her brain willing to function on any other plane than the view that was granted in front of her. She watched as Harry took a slow perusal of her features, noting the way he smiled at her reaction, the curl lingering and slow though his eyes darkened with the blown out size of his pupil. 

"Is that what y'would have done for me, (Y/N)?" he pressed just as (Y/N) hit the edge of the dining table, the empty wine glasses tottering on the surface at the force. Before she had a chance to distract herself with the noise, Harry brought his hand up to her face, pinching her chin between her thumb and forefinger. He ensured she matched his gaze, nothing more important in that moment than who was standing in front of him. "Tell me the truth, darling." 

Her hands fluttered behind her, gripping the edge of the table with her nails tapping the underside of the surface as Harry pressed himself flush against her. Her bottom edged to sit on the table, her feet threatening to lift from the ground if Harry made the right move and laid her out on the surface. Forcing herself to release her bottom lip from the cage of her teeth, she nodded her head. "I wo-would. I would've been so good for you, H, I promise. Let you do whatever you want—I'll take it." 

"Yeah?" he pressed, dipping his head just right to come near enough that the tip of his nose skimmed hers.

He was just close enough to feel the heat of his breath fanning over her skin, but not close enough to feel even the barest graze of his lips over hers. Tipping her head back, she only nodded to him as an afterthought before smoothing her mouth over Harry's, something akin to relief touched at her system at the first graze of his mouth she'd had since he came home. Harry melted into the contact, his hold on her softening though the press of his bulge into her stomach never lessened. His hand on her face slipped to fall over the curve of her neck, palm pressing against the base as her breathing stuttered underneath it. 

A smug curl of his lips could be felt against her mouth as he gauged her reaction. Harry's hand on her hip urged her backwards, pushing her to sit herself on the table despite the flower arrangement lurking just behind her. Reluctantly, his hand sitting at the base of her throat traced down her form before matching the other on her hip. His palms warmed her through the fabric of her dress, the imprint of his wedding band sinking into the soft of her skin. 

Distracted by the slip of his tongue into (Y/N)'s mouth, she hadn't noticed the way his hands slid further down her body until they wrapped around the back of her thighs. He swept her off her feet, her gasp coating Harry's mouth as her hands fluttered to steady herself with a hold on his shoulders. He settled her gently on the surface of the table, the reaching leaves of the peony arrangement tickled at the back of her bare arm, goosebumps rising in the wake. 

Harry didn't waste a second before he fit himself snugly between her legs, soft thighs cushioning his hips. His palms cradled her cheeks as he smeared his lips over hers in frantic kisses, tongue wetting her lips and sweeping over her own. Strands of his hair tickled her nose as they fell from the perfect coiffed style he wore to work, the ends curling and reaching out towards her like they couldn't stand to not be touching her like the rest of him. (Y/N)'s breathing came out in soft puffs through her nose as she tipped her head in whatever which way Harry wanted her during their messy kisses. 

Feeling his shoulders under her palms through the fabric of his shirt wasn't enough for (Y/N) anymore as she hooked her ankle around the back of his leg. It wasn't fair, she decided. She made him dinner and kept the house warm while he was away at work, she deserved to feel the heat of his bare skin, the heave of his chest as he struggled to steady his breathing despite refusing to stop kissing her, the beat of his heart against his ribcage under her hand. She deserved all of that. 

Tracing her hands down from the broad of his shoulders, (Y/N) sought out the row of buttons fastening his shirt to his form. She blindly ran her palms over his chest, fingertips itching to take apart the material in favor of reaching the bare of his skin. As soon as she hit that first button, she made quick work of the binding, taking them down one by one as Harry's kissing dissolved in favor of feeling a smug smile against her mouth. 

"Could've jus' asked if y'wanted me to take this off, precious," he told her, the murmur quiet as it floated between the two. 

She felt breathless as she spoke, her nose nudging against his as she gave a short nod, "I-I want it off. Please, I want to touch you, H." 

Though he didn't make any attempts to stop her hands from playing with the final button on his now untucked shirt, Harry didn't make any move to help. He seemingly considered her request, a brow raising as he seemed to remember something. 

"Are y'sure?" he pressed, hands on her face moving to slid into her hair, "I thought y'said you'd lay there and take it for me—promised you'd jus' be my pretty little wife and let me take you. Don't really need to touch me if y'do that, do you?" 

She floundered at his response. Of course she wanted to be good and take it—take him—, but didn't he want her to touch him? That wasn't fair, (Y/N) thought. That's not fair to feel his hands all over her body, and not have the chance to reciprocate; even now with his fingers threading through her hair, she couldn't fathom not doing the same to him with even a brush of her fingertips over his chest or a comb through his hair. 

"B-But, H—That's not fair, I want to tou—" 

He cut off her whining with a tender kiss to her lips, the perfect distraction as she melted into him. "'S alright, darling," he soothed her, "I was only teasing. Let me help you, yeah?" 

With her hands fisted in the hem of his shirt, she nodded her head in giddy jerks. "Thank you, thank you, H," she told him through her growing smile. 

She gladly let her hands fall from his form as soon as she felt Harry's replace hers at the final fastening on his top. His dress shirt was quickly shed from his form as soon as the final button was undone, creating a white puddle at his feet. (Y/N) watched through a dreamy gaze as he then fit his fingers through the neckline of his undershirt, the white tank joining the puddle of material on the floor only a second later. 

(Y/N) couldn't help the satisfied grin that molded her features as soon as she caught sight of the full of Harry's tanned torso. Their days at the beach were not spent in vain she could see now with the black of his tattoos standing out against the gold of his skin. He was the perfect Malibu daydream: curling hair, dark tattoos from a rebellious streak inked over tan skin, bright green eyes rivaling the seafoam in their backyard, and the glint of a shining wedding band on his finger. 

"This what y'wanted, (Y/N)?" he asked her, resuming his spot between her legs though his hands made a new home on the tops of her thighs. Her dress conformed to the shape of his fingers, ruching up just enough to unveil more of her legs the more he moved. 

"Mhm," she hummed, pleased with herself once he was close enough for her own hands to land on his bare skin. He was just as warm as she had glimpsed under his work shirt, skin soft as her fingertips dented the flesh though there was only so much give over the blocks of his muscles. 

Just as she made a move to press a kiss to the hollow of his throat, manicured nails raking over the birds etched just under his collarbones, Harry stopped her. His hands were firm as they landed on her waist. It was his turn to look a little smug down at her, (Y/N) knowing that he let her win only so he could collect his own bigger victory. 

"You've got to take something off now, too. Keep it fair, darling, right?" he mused, sharp gaze dropping to her own set of buttons tying her dress up high on her front. 

A pout made itself known on her features as soon as she realized what he was suggesting. "But, Harry, that's not fair. I only have my dress on, so it wouldn't be fair if I was naked and you're still half-dressed," she argued, sounding a bit petulant to her own ears though she didn't have it in herself to care much at the moment. 

Harry's grin seemed to only stretch wider, dimples deep thumbprints in his cheeks, at her words. "'M sure we can figure something out, don't you think?" 

It was then that she watched as he lowered himself to his knees between her legs. Her feet dangled on either side of him, the toes of her heels tapping against he width of his forearms. With the fluff of her dress obscuring Harry's hands as they disappeared up the hemline, (Y/N) was reminded of her wedding day in that moment. She remembered the way he ran those same hands up her legs, her cheeks having been blazing on fire with her blood bubbling underneath at the fact their families had been watching as he searched for the garter under her wedding gown. Now, there was a much less innocent glint to his eyes, something much more smug in his smile, and the heat under her skin had less to do with embarrassment. 

The clear green of his eyes became the focal point of (Y/N)'s view as she gazed down at him, her hands once again curled around the lip of the table in an effort to keep herself steady as she watched. His own hands traveled under the length of her dress, nails catching on her soft skin with tickling scratches that he soothed with a sweep of his fingertips until he found the line of her underwear. He directed her to budge up, darling, as soon as he found the waist of the soft cotton, wasting no time before working the garment down the length of her legs. He helped her kick off her heels before the underwear followed, the sodden middle clear in the lowlight filling the dining room.

"Feels a lot more fair now, doesn't it?" he told her, satisfied as he cast his gaze to the panties in his hands, definitely noting the slick that coated just where her pussy would have been nestled in the fabric. 

"Not with you all the way down there," she complained, already missing the heat of him all around her and the width of him between her thighs. Besides, she didn't go through all that trouble to get his top off only to look at him from a distance. 

Harry tsked at her as he dropped her panties to the growing pile of laundry on the floor, rising from his knees as he playfully shook his head. "And to think," he started, drawing his hands up over her legs with the hem of her dress still caught on his wrists, "that y'had promised me you'd be good. I don't think backtalk is being good, is it, darling?" 

As soon as he was near enough, (Y/N) didn't hesitate before she trailed her hands up his arms, inky tattoos on his left arm standing out starkly against her own design-less skin. "Can you blame me?" (Y/N) countered, looking up at him through fanned out lashes, "You wouldn't like it if I was half dressed but you weren't able to touch me at all. Especially, if I had been teasing you all night." 

Only a single dimple dented into Harrys' features as a lopsided smile took over his mouth, an affectionate glaze lacquering his eyes. "I guess I can't when y'put it that way," he mused, dipping his head a pressing a kiss to her own kiss-swollen lips, "I have been teasing you all night, haven't I? Of course, you're going to act out when 'm making y'so needy." 

With the rumbling of his voice she could hear just as much as she could feel with her hands on his chest, and his body pressing into hers, (Y/N) nodded her head as best she could without drawing too far away from his lingering kiss. The tip of his nose skimmed along the side of her own, as he indulged her in a seeking press of his lips before he drew away. He drug his gaze over her form, following the line of her neck until it disappeared under the collar of her dress until he found his hands on her thighs. The skirt was still bunched at his wrists, concealing the way his fingertips were denting into the soft of her thighs underneath the fabric. 

He took his time inching his hands up her legs, his gaze following after. (Y/N) felt her entire body clench, muscles tight, as soon as she felt the tips of his fingers met the crease of her thigh just before the sensitive skin of her core. The beginnings of a self-satisfied smile worked on his mouth as he peered at her through his lashes, a little too amused at her reaction. 

"H-Harry, please, can you just—...You said no more teasing," (Y/N) whined when he lingered too long, not moving his hands any farther than the full of her thighs and gentle fingertips not even daring to prod any deeper between. 

"Did I say that, darling?" he mumbled, voice barely more than a graveled whisper, "Because I don't think I would. I like this game a little too much to have promised to stop." 

(Y/N) couldn't help herself before her features contorted, a crease filling in between her brows and eyes going distressed to match the pout on her lips. "But, Harry—" 

"Don't whine like that, darling," he stopped her, voice a firm murmur, "I'll give y'what y'want, jus' let me play." 

Though it wasn't the answer she wanted (the ideal response she was looking for at this point was him undoing his pants before driving himself between her thighs, but it would appear that life isn't fair), she was going to have to accept it if she wanted him at all. Nonetheless, as he continued his lingering game, hands not even moving at this point, she keened her back, arching into him in search of his kiss. 

Something calmed in her as soon as she felt his lips seal against her own. She was grounded to the moment finally, his mouth a promise that he was going to take care of her, not to worry because he had her. She had to take that if she was going to stay sane through his games. Harry seemed to notice her compliance then as he finally drifted from the spot his palm was warming over her thigh and brushed his fingertips over the mound of her core. Desperation made her skin overly sensitive, the barely there touch calming an ache that lingered just under the surface. Her fingernails dug into the wood of their table at the touch, spine stiffening with a hitch in her breath. 

"See?" he told her, words fanning across her opened mouth, "When you're sweet, y'get what y'want." 

"Y-Yeah," she agreed, voice a touch shaky as she wanted more of his attention, "Thank you, H." 

The hand he still held on her thigh tightened at her gratitude, fingertips denting the soft flesh he regularly fawned over when he had his face tucked between them. Tipping his head, he smeared his lips over the corner of her mouth, his own expression twisting as if that was exactly what he wanted to hear from her. Her murmured something against her skin that was too muffled to catch anything more than the affection seeping from his tone as he drew himself closer to her form, leaving just enough room for his hand to work between them. 

Harry's gentle fingertips moved deftly down between her legs, tracing over her slick slit. (Y/N) breath became stuck in her throat when she felt him graze over her pearled clit, thighs tensing around his hips. She tried to say his name—say anything—but nothing came out other than the strangled air that lingered in her lungs. With his two fingers bundled together, he slid them over her folds, coating himself in her wetness as he dropped his head to burrow against the curve of her neck. As he kissed over her jumping pulse, (Y/N) was hyperaware of the way his two longest fingers prodded around her slick opening, teasing her as she clenched around nothing. Using his grip on her leg and a push of his hip on the other, Harry spread her open wider, baring her completely to him. 

With her skirt pushed up to her waist, just barely concealing what Harry was doing between her legs from view, (Y/N) had half the mind to be embarrassed, knowing just how easy it would be for a nosy neighbor of theirs (and Lord knows they have enough of them) to peek through an open window and catch her husband moments away from fingering her on the dinner table. Before she could get too far with that thought, (Y/N) entire body fell lax as Harry sunk his fingers inside her. 

"Oh my god," she keened, back arching as her head fall backwards with her throat on display. Her toes curled from where her feet dangled on either side of Harry's legs, matching the grip of her hands on the edge of the table, scratches sure to be left on the underside from where her nails gouged the wood. 

His smug smile could be felt against her shoulder as he made no move to draw away from the home he made in the soft of her form. He thrusted his fingers in lingering pulls between her parted thighs, thumb grazing the bud at the top of her slit while his fingers prodded at her soft spots from the inside. 

At the first brush of his fingers against her most tender spot—the one he helped her discover in the backseat of his car just after they graduated—, she reflexively unlatched her hand from the lip of the table. She reached for his forearm, the muscles bunching and tensing under her hands as he stroked his fingers inside her wetness. Now her fingers dented the warm skin, his body her lifeline in that moment. The sound of her slick swallowing around his fingers traveled through the room, drowning out the notes of Elvis that dared to filter through the house. Despite how relaxed she felt at the first dip of his fingers inside her, an unbelievable pressure ribboned itself around her insides, tightening her further and further until she swore if not for the distraction of all the pleasure coursing through her system, she could have been in pain. Her eyes fell closed with a flutter of her lashes, hair falling down her back as she couldn't find it in herself to right her posture. 

"Relax, darling, relax," Harry crooned to her, his voice breaking through the atmosphere that was building around her, "If you're too tight for m'fingers, how am I gonna fit inside, hm? Relax so I can give y'what y'want." 

"I-I can't help it, Ha-Harry," she cried, tips of her hair tickling her skin as she shook her head. 

"Yes, y'can," he told her, the command spreading like honey over her skin as he spoke into her neck. The tip of his nose skimmed along the curve of her throat as he worked up to whisper into her ear, "Jus' breathe, alright? Settle down and then I'll give you m'cock, yeah?" 

Though his fingers never relented the pace they were working between her legs, only lingering longer and longer over her walls as they grew snug around him, (Y/N) tried her best to follow his direction. Her breathing came in shaky inhales, cut off when he pressed his thumb into her clit just right or tapped on the tender spot on her insides, but she was trying. She used the feel of Harry's lips lingering over her neck and the anchor of his arm under her palm to ground her to the moment. It took a few tries before she had an even pace going, her body relaxing as she allowed him to manipulate her as he pleased without her body trying to reign control. 

"That's better, precious," he praised her, slowing his fingers between her legs into gentle strokes to help open her up. His hand on her thigh gave another squeeze before slipping out from under the cover of her dress. She felt the heat of his palm trace over her form until she felt his fingers wrap around the base of her exposed throat. The span of his hand pressed into the shelf of her collarbones, urging her to lay back as he drew away from the home he made along the curve of her form. "Lay down, darling." 

His command came out on a breathy exhale that fanned over her skin, a layer of goosebumps erupting in its wake despite the humidity that suddenly filled the dining room. (Y/N) didn't stand a chance against his gentle pushing, carefully laying back on the table without disrupting the bouquet of flowers that reached out to touch her. Now without the anchors of his arm and the edge of the table to grip into, (Y/N) fisted her skirt in her hands, eyes hooded as she gazed up at Harry through the veil of her lashes. 

The ink of his pupils was large and blown out, darker even in the low hanging light that centered over the dining table. She felt like the perfect meal lying before him with the way his gaze lingered over her form, tracing each curve and flare and dip of her body through the linen of her dress. His hand on her neck slipped down her body, now only a ghost of his warmth being felt on the hollow of her throat. All the while, his leisurely thrusting fingers between her legs came to a slow stop before he pulled them from her entirely. (Y/N) hissed when he made a point to drag his fingertips along her slit and press into her budding clit, her back arching just enough to bow off the surface of the table. 

He hushed her gently, Harry's voice coming as a coo around her name as he soothed her. He ran his clean hand down the length of her thigh in a calming run before all evidence of his touch was gone in an instant. (Y/N) caught her breath in that moment until she heard the found of his fingers tinkering with the buckle of his belt and the unzipping of his trousers. Her heart stuttered for a moment at the noises, knowing what was coming next, until upstarting at a pace she couldn't remember achieving outside of their wedding night. 

"Keep them open for me, love," Harry instructed her, his hands landing on her hips to drag her to the edge of the table as he worked himself between her thighs. She hadn't even realized she had gone to close her legs until he said anything, instinctively aching to close them and give herself some of the relief she was missing since he pulled away. 

Craning her neck, she opened her eyes just enough to find her husband standing between her legs as they dangled over the side of the table, his gaze trained to the apex of her thighs. Her eyes trailed over his form, the light sheen of sweat gleaming in the low light of the dining table as it slicked over the designs inked on his skin. His corded arms were tight and bunched as they worked below his waist line, the view of their ministrations obstructed from (Y/N)'s view with her bunched skirt in the way. Nonetheless, she could see the way his features were twisted into a look she knew well from their nights between the sheets, and hear the glide of his hand along his length to fill in the gaps of what was happening out of her line of sight. 

(Y/N) couldn't find it in herself to look away at the way the blocks this muscles moved under his tanned skin, and the flop of his curls as they fell over his forehead. Not even when Harry peered up at her through his lashes, something smug curling his lips with dimples that seemed much less innocent in that moment thumbing into the apples of his cheeks. He was all too happy to have her attention, wide eyes pinned to him and parted lips letting out ragged breaths that fought to form his name. His hand on his length slowed as he shuffled between her thighs, the sound of his shoes clicking over the tile underneath sounding like fireworks in the quiet of the house. His free hand landed on her hip then, the weight a buoy in that moment.

"Ready for me, precious?" he asked her just as she felt the first swipe of his prick through her folds, head nudging her clit. 

"Uh-huh," she keened, nodding her head, "Please, please, H." 

As soon as (Y/N) caught sight of the smug smile on his lips, she let her head fall back onto the wood of the table. She knew exactly what he was going to ask of her.

"You know how to ask me, darling." He never stopped teasing her as he spoke, even upping the stakes as he pressed his prick against her weeping hole. 

"But, H—" 

"Nu-huh, precious." She could imagine the way he shook his head as he spoke, knowing exactly the kind of torture he was putting her through when he started this game. "Jus' say it, and you'll have me. You know what I want." 

(Y/N) brows knitted together in the middle as she pouted. It wasn't like what he was asking for was hard to give him, but she didn't understand why she had to do all of these things when they both wanted the same thing. Besides, whenever she uttered those words, she felt her skin warm with her cheeks being the epicenter. Even now, years after the first time he ever coaxed the phrase from her, it made butterflies churn in her tummy and prod at her insides. 

"'S all you've got to do, then 'm yours," Harry persuaded her, emphasizing the truth with a gentle rock of his hips that nudged just the very tip of his cock into her clenched opening. 

That teasing push was enough to get (Y/N)'s jaw dropping. Whatever inhibitions she had barring her from abiding to his request dissolved in that moment and turned into another squeeze of her pussy at the thought of him inside. "Please, fuck me, H, please, please," she pleaded, swearing for him just as he wanted. 

"How?" 

Her eyes squeezed shut at the followup that came less than a moment after she let out her breathless pleads. "Hard, H," she told him, swallowing before continuing, "I want you to fuck me hard, Harry. I don't want to be able to look at our dinner table again without getting wet for you." 

When she won the battle to blink her eyes open to see if that was what he wanted from her, (Y/N) found Harry with his brows cinched in the middle and his tongue peeking out at the corner of his gaped mouth as he gazed down at her. She hooked her ankle around the back of his leg, urging him in a reminder of what he promised. 

"G-Good girl, darling," he told her, voice a breathless rumble, "Gave me jus' what I wanted, didn't you? 'M yours, now, yeah?" 

Before she could even fathom an answer, Harry gave a swift thrust of his hips and drove his cock through her soft insides. The slick sound of her pussy swallowing him filled the room as she fought to find her breath and any working train of thought that wasn't wobbly on its tracks. The help of his fingers inside her before allowed him to slip in without resistance despite the snug fit of her walls around him. 

Just as she had begged him barely minutes before, Harry gave her a moment to adjust to having him inside her before he reared back, leaving just the tip to warm inside her, and gave a hard thrust to bottom out again. The force knocked the breath out of her, back arching off the table and disrupting the wine glasses still balanced on the surface. She wanted to say his name—say anything—though nothing succeeded in making its way out of her throat, his forceful thrusts cutting that idea off before it even had a chance of budding in her head. 

"Jus' like y'wanted, darling? Am I giving it to y'hard enough?" Harry's words came out rocky as he balanced his hands on either side of her hips. 

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," she whined in time with the strokes of his hips, her legs instinctively wrapping around him as he worked her. 

"Th-Then you've gotta do something for me, too, (Y/N)." 

She didn't even have to think before she was blindly agreeing to his terms. 

"Undo your dress for me, yeah?" he asked of her, hands squeezing her hips as his hips stuttered in their rhythm, "Let me see your tits." 

(Y/N) felt as if she was moving on autopilot as she unfurled her fingers from the mess of linen they were trapped in and frantically worked on the buttons fastening the top of her dress to her chest. With each clumsy undoing, more and more of her skin was exposed to the tapped air of the room, a layer of goosebumps raising with every brush of her fingertips over her bare skin. The satin cups of her plain white bra shone under the light, the fabric going champagne gold from the amber bulb.

As soon as she unbuttoned her dress down to the cream colored sash that wrapped around her waist, Harry flicked her hands out of the way with his own. His palm landed headily on the exposed skin of her stomach, his touch steady despite the unwavering pace of his hips thrusting into her. She felt his warmth bleed through the padding of her bra as he reached to pulled the cups down. The job was clumsy as he sent her bra askew, baring her breasts for him. He was quick to cup one of her breasts with his warm palm, thumb skimming the peek with his nail catching on the soft curve. 

Just as he squeezed around the soft flesh, he knocked her breathless with the help of a druggingly rough thrust of his hips. The tip of his cock nudged against the soft of her insides, far enough she couldn't even fathom how he managed to hit her tummy and still have more to give her. 

"H-Harry, oh my god!" she cried, the words falling from her mouth before she could properly find the air for them. Her thighs squeezed around his hips just as she felt her walls do around his prick, her entire body urging him to stay with her, to do that again. 

"'M here, darling. 'M taking care of you, don't worry, darling," he crooned to her, though he didn't quite sound as serene as he did when they started. "Gonna cum for me soon?" 

Though her mouth was dropped open in a gape, no words came out. She only managed to nod, hair fluttering against the wood grain of the table. If he just touched her a little more, ground his hips into hers harder, he was going to make her cum around him before she had a chance to even thread together a coherent thought. From the second he fit his hand between her legs and teased her all the while, she was gone for him, her body ready for just the right moment before unraveling the tight spool of ribbon growing in her tummy. 

"Need more f-from me, first?" he gritted out from a ticked jaw, (Y/N) able to imagine the hard line of his jaw just from memory as she couldn't manage to peek her eyes open in that moment. 

Back arched as he flicked his finger over her pointed nipple, (Y/N) found her voice in a breathy croon, "Pl-Please, touch me, Harry." 

She half expected him to keep up his unrelenting game, force her into telling him exactly where she wanted him to touch and how. But, when he instead peeled away his hand that had still been on her hip to keep her steady and placed it between their bodies, she could have cried at the instant satisfaction that followed as he smeared the pad of his thumb over her clit. 

The vase filled with flowers beside her and the nearly empty wine glasses on the table rattled around her as she keened into the touch, her hips bucking up to meet his hand and subsequently knock into his rocking motions of his own. 

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she bubbled off, the grated getting lost in her breathless murmurs but she couldn't help herself as they fell from her mouth. 

Harry didn't say anything, only driving his hips that much harder into her. His hand on her breast drifted from the gentle kneading he was giving to the flesh, traveling up the expanse of her collarbones until he found the column of her throat. Her pulse kicked up at the feel of his hand inching to wrap around the delicate curve. If he did what she was hoping, she had no chance; she was going to have no hope before she melted into a complete puddle and came for him before she had a moment to catch her breath. 

His thumb never ceased the circles he traced around her clit, following the tempo of his thrusts, as the hand on her neck turned stern. Long fingers wrapped around the curve of her throat, squeezing just enough that (Y/N) felt the pattern of her ragged breathing change to accommodate the new pressure. He choked her with a tender hand, finding the perfect grip that she'd come to love that made her head just a little too dizzy to think, putting her completely in the realm of his touch with no distractions. 

She heard static in her ears as she laid there at his mercy, his firm hand on her neck to match the rough motions of his hips and rubbing of her clit. Her toes curled at the small of his back as she hooked her ankles together and held his body to her as best she could with a wavering grip. It was on instinct as she brought her hands up to wrap around the wrist of his that was choking her, fingertips denting into his forearm though she didn't make any move to stop him or pull him off her. 

"S-So perfect, precious," he praised her, his thrusts going sloppy as she felt her own body beginning to unravel, "Taking it jus' like y'promised me, ar-aren't you? Such a good little wife for me—knew I married the right one." 

If she had the wherewithal to fully compute his praising, (Y/N) knew she would have keened into his touch and urged him to finish for the sole reason of feeling him cum and seeing the look on his face that only she could bring, but there was nothing working in her head as she felt as if her body was little more than one large nerve-ending. Turning her head, she pressed her cheek into the cool wood cushioning her body, a moment of clarity entering her mind at the chill. Blinking her eyes open, she was granted a wavering view out the sliding glass doors that led to their backyard, the beach off in the distance. The sky was dark, the sun having fallen ages ago when (Y/N)'s brain had still been between her ears. The stars were streaks in the ink of the sky, reflecting off the ocean waves that were soundtracked with the music of her heartbeat rushing through her ears. What a pretty sight to see, she aimlessly thought, a sea view while her husband choked her with the same hand she held every morning as she walked him to his car before work. 

Reaching with his forefinger to her jawline while his thumb pinched at the hinge, Harry turned her to face him, his palm still tight on her neck until he righted his grip. Shifting his hold, the leverage of his grip on her neck changed as she felt the telltale twitch of his cock inside her that told her he was just as close as she was. His gaze was clear as she matched it, the green especially bright though it was nothing more than a slim ring around his pupil. 

"Look at me when I make y'cum," he grumbled to her, raspberry lips deeply colored and swollen. 

Maybe it was his hand on her neck, or the feel of his cock making way between her snug walls, or the circles around her clit, but hearing Harry even say that he was going to make her cum, made her muddled brain decide that she had to do that now. She had to give him what he wanted now, as she didn't have any choice to stray from his demanding gaze and the unrelenting touch of him all around her. 

Before she had a chance to tell him anything, warn him that she was about to finish for him, the beginnings of a dimple dented into his cheek as a smug curl edged out on the corners of his mouth. He knew. 

"Gonna cum for me now, darling?" he prodded, voice low and deep though unsteady from his own impending pleasure. 

"Uh-huh," she keened, only able to choke that out around his hand. She swallowed, throat bobbing under his grip. "H-Harder, plea-ease." 

"Want me to choke y'harder, or fuck y'harder?" he pressed, Adam's apple bobbing before the tip of his tongue peeked out and ran along the full of his bottom lip.

"Ch-choke me harder," she told him, words a whisper.

Though the request was for something to make her unravel, Harry seemingly crumbled at the sound of her words, her small, breathy voice letting them linger between them. Nonetheless, he tightened his grip around her neck and kept working the rest of her body through the derailing of the pacing of his hips. 

Everything came to a head at once as she tried to suck in a breath that was hindered by the grip of his hand. His cock fucking through her walls and nudging her tender spot, thick thumb pressing harshly against her clit, and the firm hand on her neck. Her brain went fuzzy while she fought to keep her eyes open and maintain the eye contact Harry wanted from her, though she felt the bow tied tight in her stomach coming undone in a mess of ribbon. Static filled her head despite the way Harry lessened his hold on her throat as soon as he realized she was cumming for him, her body following after in pinpricks of pleasure that dotted her limbs in sparks of clarity that matched the stars painting the sky outside their door. 

"Harry," she moaned, the call hoarse and fragile as it rolled off her tongue. Her legs around his waist tugged him tight enough to her that he couldn't move from where he had bottomed out inside her. 

Though he stilled his hips and his hand was nothing more that a steadying warmth at the hollow of her throat, he still worked the bud of her clit in soft circles through her orgasm. He was her safe place to land as she came down with a flutter of her eyes falling closed and chest heaving with the breaths she'd been fighting to suck in since she found herself seated on this table. 

His hand on her neck trailed up to cradle her cheek in a tender hold, thumb petting along the height of her cheekbone. He waited for her descent back down to earth with him, only moving his hips in soft rocks that he couldn't help but make when the cradle of her legs around his waist loosened. 

"Y'alright, precious?" he asked her once she found the energy to blink her eyes open. 

Despite how tender and gentle he was being with his wife, (Y/N) watched as his nose flared with heaving breaths and his hair was pasted to his temples with the help of the sweat that also covered his body. The waves of curls on the top of his head were a mess, the gel he'd left the house with nonexistent in the heat of the room. His lips were swollen from their rounds of kissing as well as the blunt ends of his teeth digging into the pillows. He still needed to cum, and he was close to it if the set of his jaw was anything to go by. 

"Y-Yes, but—" she stuttered, dropping her hands from around his forearm only to tug her ruffled skirt out of Harry's way, "It-It's your turn now, Harry." 

A muscles in his jaw jumped, the hinge tightening at the sound of her words. "Is it, now?" he asked her with the lids of his eyes dropping low over his gaze, "Want to see me cum for you?" 

Before she could thread together any kind of response, her head was nodding on instinct, frantic jerks. "Please, let me watch you cum, H." 

A murmured curse left his mouth as his brows came into a pinch above his eyes, his eyelids winning out as they fell closed as he let out a deep breath. She watched as the white tips of his teeth peeked out and sunk into his bottom lip just as he gaze one more lingering pet of his thumb over her cheekbone before pulling away. He stood tall over her, chest bare with his pants undone just enough to pull his cock out. (Y/N)'s eyes never strayed as he slowly pulled out of her, her walls clenching around nothing as she adjusted without him, a whine caught in her throat. 

Craning her neck, she was allowed a short view as he wrapped his fist around his cock, his hand having been covered in her slick from petting over her clit. Wet sounds filtered through the space as he stroked his cock in a pace that rivaled the harsh thrusts he delivered to his wife. Harry's face was contorted in a kind pleasure she felt lucky to see without lust too thick to breathe through addled her brain, and eyes clear enough to document every crease and curve to his features. 

"Gonna cum on your pussy, darling. Is that alright?" he asked her, his explanation floating on a short breath between them though he never drew his gaze away from the sensitive folds between her legs. 

A jerky nod acted as (Y/N)'s answer, the movement almost as frantic as Harry's hand over his cock. She watched as his prick twitched in his hand, the muscles of Harry's stomach tight and pronounced under the warm lighting. All it took was a swipe of his thumb over his weeping head before a rumbling groan built in his chest and streaks of cum spurted from his cock. The warmth landed in ropes (Y/N) couldn't see but felt as they painted over her intimacy, mixing with the slick that coated her slit. Harry threw his head back and let out a call of her name towards the ceiling as his chest heaved, the skin tinted a flushed pink. He came in thick spurts, his hand fisted over his prick helping to work out each rope until nothing was left but short drips that fell to the floor and his cock was too sensitive to touch.

Harry's body get languid as he came down, riding that wave until it brought him back to shore, sun-kissed and relaxed. Rolling his neck, he looked to (Y/N) with a canted head and tender smile that matched the way his eyes traced over her form. 

"C'mere, precious," he murmured, reaching towards her hands that were stiffly curled into her dress. 

(Y/N) didn't even think before she gave him her hands, uncaring of their shared cum that covered his palms. She was sure they were going to shower together after this, anyway. She sat up, her dress falling to cover to her knees with the hem dipping into the mess between her legs, though she didn't pay it any mind. All she cared about then was the way Harry dipped his head down to match his lips to hers as soon as he was given the opportunity. 

Nothing was frantic about the contact, only soothing presses of their lips. A quiet reminder that he liked being rough with her only because of these tender moments they shared afterwards. He soothed her self-bitten lips and threaded their fingers together in a grip that felt like a feather compared to the way he had held her steady as he fucked into her only moments earlier. (Y/N) preened at the feel of him and all of his careful energy around her, feeling just as loved as she did with his hand around her neck. 

Harry trailed his kisses down from her mouth and down the line of her neck until he found the slightly reddened skin that detailed just where his hand had been prior. He planted a garden of kisses that followed the line of each of his fingers and the span of his palm in gentle presses.

"I know y'asked me to, but I didn't choke y'too hard, did I?" he asked though his words melted into her skin. He didn't bother to pull away from her neck before he spoke, only muttering between the dragging kisses he granted to the delicate skin. 

"No, no," (Y/N) rushed, shaking her head before she squeezed his hands in her own, "I liked it, H. I promise. I might have to use a little makeup tomorrow in case anything makes a mark, but I promise I really liked it. Thank you for doing that for me." 

His smile could be felt against her neck, a gentle curve. "I love you, darling." 

Unlacing her fingers from between his, she brought them up to cradle his cheeks as she pulled him up to face her. "I love you, too, H. There's no one I'd rather have come home to me." 

Affection gleamed in the green of his eyes before they were shuttered as he pressed a lingering kiss to her mouth. 

(Y/N) indulged in the contact for only a moment before something tickled at her senses. Her brows furrowed as she tried to pinpoint the niggling at the back of her mind that was triggered with the smell of... caramel? No, no, this was much deeper than that. It almost smelled like something was burning—or burning more, anyway. 

As soon as the realization hit her, (Y/N) went stock still where she sat at the table. 

Harry pulled away with concern painted over his gaze though (Y/N) only looked over his shoulder. She struggled then to somehow fix the top of her dress while scrambling to hop off the counter. 

Harry stayed a steady wall between her and the rest of the house as she rushed, hands on her hips and face forcing into her field of view so she had to look at him. "Precious, what's wrong? Are—"

"Harry, the pie! I left it in the oven!"

(Y/N) couldn't find it in her to be even a little annoyed at the sound of her husband's laughter that then filled the house. She loved the melody almost as much as she loved him, even if it was at the expense of their dessert. 

With the sound echoing though her ears as she slipped on a pair of oven mitts and extracted the bubbling black, burnt confection, (Y/N) decided that she'd burn a hundred more of them if his laughter was her reward. 

—————

this idea ofc was super inspired by the dwd trailer ofc ofc but then when hsh came out and The Line in keep driving happened I put it all together!! thank u sm for reading and sorry for any mistakes!! please please if you have any ideas or requests people sen them in!!

Citrine!harry making clothes/underwear for YN from the flowers and stuff? It would be so cute they you have the colour of the flower and they would be based of off them and they would be one of a kind and she would model them for him

I miss witch!harry:( could you possibly do another little blurb for them? it could be smut or fluff or anything really I just miss how soft he is:( love you're writing btw&lt;3

theres smut !😌

wordcount: 11.5k+

—————

"I have a surprise for you!"

Harry snapped his head over his shoulder, his curls flopping across his forehead. He had only been at (Y/N)'s apartment for a full five minutes before she bubbled the news off to him as he flicked through the records he kept in her room. He found her kicking her door closed gently behind her with her hands hidden behind her back. She wore an excited smile on her lips that he was sure he was mimicking on his own face.

He loved surprises.

"What is it?" he asked, abandoning the baby blue crate that held his delicate vinyls. His flowery fingernails picked at the full of his bottom lip, his nerves animated over the speculation of what her surprise could be.

"Close your eyes," she bounced, her eyes bright like the sunny glow that inspired his nickname for her.

Harry quickly fluttered his eyes closed, his lashes resting against his cheekbones. She directed him further, asking for Harry to lay his hands out palm up. A small smile rested on his features as he waited. Her own fingertips gently brushed against his open hands, laying a somewhat heavy object that spanned across both of his palms.

"Don't drop it," she laughed, watching as his hands stuttered under the unexpected weight. She waited another breath before she spoke with a smile in her voice, "Okay, open."

Harry blinked his eyes open in a flash, darting down to the gift in his hands. It looked to be more of a camera than the one (Y/N) had on the back of her cell phone, more of what he was used to before her.

A large lens was stationed in the front of the camera, with a light for flash right beside it. A rainbow streak ran along the back. The base was colored a bright yellow with a slot for the photographs to slide out and develop. Polaroid was printed in grey font on the front, memories rushing back to Harry in a matter of seconds at the word.

"Y'got me a camera?" he beamed, his heart swelling in his chest. He'd been missing his camera ever since (Y/N) walked into his clearing all that time ago; so many moments since then he wished he had something to document the scene and keep with him forever.

"Yeah," she sighed, her hands clasped in from of her as she excited stood awaiting his reaction, "I know you like mine, but now you have your own for when I'm not there."

Harry didn't like to think about the moments where (Y/N) wouldn't be with him, but he was excited to think of all the things he could take pictures of in her absence. He wanted to show her the way Bonnie let him put flowers on her head while she slept, and how Dandelion had started to get used to sleeping on his chest now that the nights were turning colder. He wanted to show her the way the flowers sang for him in the mornings and the prisms that glinted across the river due to the sparkling rocks laid along the bottom. He couldn't wait to show her more of the world she missed when his heart was with her while the rest of him was away.

"Sunshine," he sighed the pet name, cradling the camera to his chest before wrapping his arm around her waist and tugging her form to him. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling the cherry scent of her shampoo. She fell into his hold, her own arms looping around his middle. He dusted warming kisses along her hairline, his nose skimming the strands.

"Thank you," he cooed to her, slowly walking himself backwards until his knees hit the edge of her bed and he fell back with her atop him.

He gently tossed his new camera aside, the object bouncing into a tuft of her strawberry lemonade swirled comforter. He used his now free arm to match his other around her waist, (Y/N)'s own limbs wrapping around his neck as she pulled herself to straddle his thighs.

"You like it?" she asked, a soft nervousness to her eyes as they met his. Around her, a tinge of a jittery purple aura haloed her while the rest of the space was filled with soft, baby pinks and optimistic yellows. Harry's sure his own was just the pink, feeling only love for his flame as he gazed up at her.

"Love it," he breathed, craning his neck and pressing a loss to her soft lips, "Thank you s'much, m'sunshine."

After he got out his gratitude, he took her bottom lip between his two. Their lips slotted together in familiar sync, the taste of her refreshing his senses. Her kiss was able to breathe life into him he lost in her absence, the feel of her soft body atop his made it that much easier to find his place among the life around him. It felt like he became apart of the environment he loved so deeply, a garden of freshened flowers and honeyed fruits growing in his lungs and weaving into his heart. He was addicted to her kiss.

He sighed against her lips, a breathy call of her name. He shifted his hold on her to cradle her face between his palms. The string of plants he had settled in her windowsill were vibrating with energy, growing long past what they could have in a year just by the sheer show of affection Harry displayed for his Flame.

"I put film in it already, if you want to try it out," (Y/N) mumbled, having pulled away as Harry's kissing only ranged down across her cheek and to the delicate skin of her neck.

"Hm?" he hummed, his thoughts muddling together with hints of sugary sweet love and citrusy excitement tinging the notes. He had no idea what she said but he loved the sound of her voice—more than any record he'd ever heard.

A laugh escaped her lips, better than any melody on any album as far as Harry was concerned. "I already put some film in your camera, if you wanted to take some pictures."

She allowed one more kiss along her collarbone before she planted her hands on either side of Harry's head. She gave him a small smile, her lips swollen from his kisses. She flicked her gaze to the camera that was laid haphazardly among her pillows. She carefully picked it up, keeping her other arm steady.

Now with it in her hands, the lens directed at Harry, (Y/N) sat steady on the thick of Harry's thighs. She brought the camera up to her eye, her smile visible just below.

"Smile!"

Harry didn't even have to think about it before the widest grin appeared on his lips, sure his cheeks were flushed to match the color of his pinkened aura. A flash popped across his vision with the resounding click of the camera poised in his direction. A second later, (Y/N)'s smiling face was revealed as she pulled the camera from her face and plucked the photo from the yellow slot.

They waited a moment for the picture to develop, (Y/N) flapping the film though Harry was pretty sure that did nothing to speed up the process. Once the print came to fruition, (Y/N) gazed down at the square in her hand with a softened smile on her face. She looked the same way she did when they had Aligned that night under the moon, like she had decided she was never going to be happier than she was in that moment. Harry liked it when she looked like that, wanting for her to be forever happy, especially with him.

She flicked her tender gaze to Harry's face below her. "Wanna see?"

"Please," he peeped, his hands landing on her thighs and warming the skin that was displayed from the hem of her shorts.

She flipped the picture over, showing Harry the fuzzied, softly filtered picture of his own smiling face. It brought back a flood of memories from countless nights held under the stars with the sounds of music festivals soundtracking the evening, nights in his friends' basements with thick fogs of smoke billowing from their laughing mouths, mornings spent on a beach in Malibu he never learned the name of with his toes wiggling through the sand.

He looked the same as he did all those decades ago, but he could spot each minute difference that had come ever since he found his (Y/N). His cheeks held a flush he never knew he could produce, his eyes were emphatically happy. He looked like he belonged. Despite the classic white framing, and the aged feel of the photo, he knew he never looked that happy before her.

"Remind you of the good ol' days?" she asked, flipping the picture over to take a glance at it again.

"Better," he sighed. His hands squeezed her thighs, the soft skin cushioning his fingertips.

"Can I keep this one?" she asked, her eyes innocently wide and her brows downturned giving Harry the sweetest puppy dog eyes even Dande couldn't pull off.

Harry bit back his smile as he looked up at her, that dreamy filter hazing his vision. "Only if I can have one of you."

She playfully rolled her eyes at his request, handing him the camera and laying her palms flat against his chest with Harry's new portrait resting on his stomach. He brought the viewfinder to his eye, gazing at his Flame.

"How do you want me?" she teased, pulling a mock seductive look as she twisted so her shoulder was in front of her face.

Harry disregarded her teasing, too busy thinking of the fact he'll finally get to carry a picture of her around everywhere he went. "Want y'to blow me a kiss."

She breathed a laugh at his request but, nonetheless, complied. She fluttered her eyes closed and puckered her lips. She titled her chin up in a pose, Harry angling the camera to capture her expression. With a click and a flash, the whirring of the camera sounded. A photo popped out from the slot at the base, Harry excited to see the end product. He was sure it was going to be beautiful.

As the picture faded into focus, Harry swore he'd never seen anything more beautiful than the small photo between his fingers. Until he looked at the real thing sitting eagerly atop him, of course.

"Can I see?"

Before he passed it over for her inspection, he ran his fingertips lightly along the edge. An enchantment fell over the still, causing the photo to come to life with the image looping over and over with a clip of her puckering her lips and fluttering her lashes. He watched it play for a moment, a smile spreading on his face, before he carefully handed over his new favorite possession.

He watched as she took in the magic of the photo in front of her, his hands settling on her thighs again. He dipped his fingertips innocently under the hem of her shorts in search of more skin to graze.

"Can you do that for mine, too?" she bubbled, her brows raised in excitement as she slid her polaroid of his smiling face to the middle of his chest.

He trapped his bottom lip between his teeth, biting back the smile that had already taken home on his face. He carefully collected both photos in his hand, setting them on the puff of her pillow. He wrapped his arms around her waist, her own bundled between them. He nudged his nose against her's once she was close enough.

"Can I have a real kiss first, please?" he mumbled, only a breath away from her lips.

Without hesitation, she tilted her head, closing the smallest distance separating their lips. He felt that rush course through him, making it that much easier for him to find his place among her energy. She smiled against his lips at the way Harry breathed a relaxed sigh at the contact. He tightened his hold on her, spanning his palms across her back. He deepened their kissing as her thighs squeezed around his hips, Harry taking the opportunity to roll them over with (Y/N) now laid flat on her back under him. He felt her crack a smile against his mouth, her hands roaming from their hold around his neck and up to the mussed curls on the back of his head.

He wanted to remember this moment forever, and he knew the best way to do that.

Harry kept one hand cradled under her back while the other reached across the bed for the forgotten camera, his lips still moving against her's in languid motions. He peeked his eyes open just a flutter once he caught his present between his fingers. He angled the lens towards them, his lips slowing against (Y/N)'s as he wanted to be absolutely sure he caught them in frame. She parted her lips from his, catching sight of the lens documenting their intimate moment.

"Harry," she mumbled, a giggly tone to her call of his name.

"Shh," he hushed her, nudging his nose against her's to pull her focus back on him. He puckered his lips against her's, feeling the honey sweet warmth spread from their point of contact. She kissed back through her smile.

The shuddering of the camera soundtracked the moment, Harry's new favorite memory printing from the slot. A smile spread across his face as the frame developed, not wasting a second before he brought the photo to life. He never knew he needed to know what (Y/N) looked like when she was being kissed—especially by him—but now he couldn't stop watching.

He knew what it felt like to have her soft lips pressed against his, the small give of his own as they moved against one another. The tangles of his hair that brushed against her skin as they fell when he lent into her, reminding him of the twisting vines that grew along the walls of his home whenever she graced his cottage with her presence. The fluttering of her lashes as she tried to contain her smile against his mouth made him think of the butterflies in his stomach that beat to the tune of her heart. This is what his love for her looked like.

(Y/N) craned her neck to get a look at the clip looping in Harry's hands. "Oh," she cooed, the same smile on her face she got when she thought Harry was being especially sweet, "We look so cute."

Harry quickly turned his head to face her cheek, planting a garden of kisses along the skin. He hummed in agreement to her words, already wanting more and more memories of her to carry around with him.

He drew back from her, his hand by her head keeping him steady as he positioned the camera in front of his eye. "Pose for me?"

(Y/N) only laughed at his words, rolling her eyes playfully. He clicked the camera as fast as he could, the lens capturing her laughs as she tried to roll away from him and cover her face with her hands. He pulled the photos from the slot as soon as they emerged, barely paying attention to them before clicking for another picture of the giggling girl trapped under him.

"Harry, stop!" she laughed, wrapping her fingers around the wrist of the hand holding the camera, "Film is expensive!"

But this moment was priceless to Harry.

—————

After a long, three-day weekend cooped up in (Y/N)'s room, full of quiet giggling over his excessive use of his polaroid and intimate touches when she was able to pull the lens from his hands, Harry was sent home with a pout on his lips and her kiss on his cheek.

He had missed her as soon as he started his trek back up to his cottage, (Y/N) being the sweetest thing waiting for him to round the bend before pulling away. He had his duffle bag pulled over his shoulder with his camera cradled against his chest, all of his photos from the weekend tucked into the pocket of his bag for safe keeping. He couldn't wait to pin them around his home, filling the gaps between the twirling vines that had now made their home on the inside of his cottage. He couldn't wait to see (Y/N)'s face every morning and every night, even when they were apart. Maybe it would make their short separation periods easier on his sensitive heart.

Bonnie greeted him just as he broke into his clearing, his pastel yellow home a bright spot beside his glittering stream. She rubbed along his waist, purrs vibrating from her chest as she chirped to him. He could tell she had missed him, always extra lovey when he had been gone longer than she liked. He gently pat the top of her head, fingers trailing down to the fluff around her neck as she lovingly gazed up at him.

"Hi, lovely," he cooed to her, leaning down just the smallest bit for her to surge up and bump her forehead tenderly against his. He breathed a laugh at her eagerness, maneuvering carefully around her towards the porch of his house. Dandelion was perched happily on the first step, her nose puffing excitedly as he drew closer.

With Bonnie still following closely behind, Harry scooped Dandelion up into his arms. He fluffed the fur around her ears, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Missed y'too," he cooed, carrying her along with him into his cottage.

After he settled his bunny on his mattress with Bonnie sat carefully beside her, Harry dropped his back to the floor before waving his fingers in the direction of his closet. His bag took itself to his closet, quickly putting away the clothing he had already washed at (Y/N)'s house and bundling the rest into his laundry bin. Only a second later, his polaroid and photos from the weekend before appeared in front of him on his bed.

Harry didn't waste a second before collecting his new array of art (he considered any picture of her to be art, no matter how much she laughed away his comparisons). Bonnie and Dande watched on as he stuck the photos to his wall, using an enchantment to carefully adhere them to the gaps between the flowery vines that decorated the area. Each frame played a clip over and over, reminding Harry of the buttery warmth he felt flow through his veins during every moment spent in her presence.

He took a step back after all twenty of the photos were pasted on his wall, settling on the end of his bed with Dande sitting at his side. "What do you think?" he sighed, the images piecing together a movie of his weekend, "She's gorgeous, isn't she?"

He flicked his gaze to his animals beside him, finding Bonnie absently licking at one of her large paws and Dandelion staring at the photo-wall with her nose puffing away in no obvious reaction.  He was sure they were just tired, the excitement over his arrival back home taking away their energy to focus on the exhibit he had put together. There was no way the magic of his Flame could be lost on them, not when she looked like that.

He instead fell back on his bed, his head falling into the puff of his pillow. He sighed as he looked up at the ceiling above him, already missing the sweet warmth he could only feel in (Y/N)'s presence. He fluttered his eyes closed, trying to envision himself with her now. He pretended she was laid next to him, that the pull extending from his heart was only guiding him to the space beside him, not down the mountain and deep into the village below.

His heart hadn't stopped melting since she had gifted him his camera, the gesture filling his head with cherry and vanilla flavored thoughts. There was no one sweeter than his Flame, he was sure of it. No one sweeter than his destined who had given him so thoughtful of a gift, something he had been missing for decades, but really craving since the day he met her. He'd been trying to slowly work himself up to the more high-tech advancements his (Y/N) was so fond of, her tiny cell phone the hardest thing to get accustomed to. He loved the camera on it, and he loved the idea of never running out of film to take photos and document everything around him, and the text messaging she had introduced him to, but the rest of he device still confused him to no end. She knew all of that and gave him something he was familiar with, making it mean that much more to him that she had listened and hadn't tried to change him before he was ready.

He wanted to give something back to her. Give her a gift that would warm her heart the way her's did for him.

(Y/N) loved when he made clothes for her, her praises of his work never-ending after he presented her with a new outfit. The only problem with that route, is that he always gifted her with new clothing. He wanted this present to be special. Special like the yellow camera resting beside his head, and special like the clips of his love for her playing out on his wall. Something she would look at and know it came from a place of love from him.

He tried to think of anything she had said to him recently that could help him come up with the most perfect surprise for her. Finally, he landed on a moment from a few weeks back, when he had borrowed her personal computer kit (he knows that's called a laptop now, but he really couldn't kick the habit). He wanted to look at records he could order—with (Y/N)'s permission of course—, and when he opened up the top, a tab was blinked to life. The screen showed a website he had never seen before (to be fair, he doesn't really know many websites at all, only the google really). On the page, a woman was dressed in only the bare minimum of clothing; an ornate bra covered her breasts with a matching set of underwear hiding her modesty. His mind immediately replaced the picture of the model to his (Y/N), hoping that if she had been looking at it, that she wished to buy it and hopefully—by all the stars, was he praying—wear it for him. He couldn't pry his mind from the vision, his thoughts full of the softening curves of her body hugged by the sheer material on the screen.

"Harry?" (Y/N) had called, running a hand along the width of his shoulders as she passed by him to the kitchen. She took a glimpse over his shoulder, wanting to make sure he hadn't led himself to another website he hadn't meant to link to and now was stuck. She saw her previous tab open, worried Harry had somehow frozen her laptop. "What's wrong? Did you click another ad on accident?"

"What's this?" he asked, looking to her over his shoulder with a small pout on his lips. "Are y'buying this?"

He really hoped she would say yes. With a laugh, (Y/N) explained that, no, she was just looking. As pretty as the outfit was, she was not willing to spend three hundred on a set of most likely uncomfortable lingerie that she would only wear for maybe a half hour tops before Harry would take it off her.

He remembered the way he bit back his pout as she closed the page, and pulled up his google before leaving to the kitchen to make them dinner.

That's where he got his idea.

Lingerie wasn't something he had made for her before—or ever really. He didn't even know where to start. All he knew was that he wanted to replicate what he had seen on that webpage, but better. He wanted to tailor the set to her preferred fit, thread together colors she loved and create delicate flowers she would be proud to have adorning her skin.

They had made plans for her to come see him tomorrow night, promising to bring more film for his camera and those records he had ordered a couple weeks back. He had just enough time to figure out what he wanted to conjure up for her, get all the materials together, and hopefully create his best pieces for her.

For a split second, he imagined her in his creation. He saw her splayed out in his wildflowers outside, the sun warming her skin with her sunshine smile on her face. He thought about himself standing above her, snapping pictures with his camera to add to his collection of photos in his cottage. The thought only spurred him on, wanting to solidify his design and bring his vision that much closer.

Just as he settled on a set of mix of candytuft florets and sunflowers for his design, the trilling of his real sunflower rang through the house. He blinked his eyes open, finding the flower veiled in the dreamy white haze he had become familiar with. He scrambled to his side table, reaching for the stem in a haste to get taste of the vanilla-sweet sunshine he had missed in (Y/N)'s absence.

He cradled the stem between his fingers, bringing the center of the flower to his ear. Her words echoed through his head like a dream.

"Miss you already."

He listened to the audio over and over, listening to the sound of her voice. The magic of her love for him was never lost on him; sentiments like these never failed to make his heart swell and lungs squeeze at the thought of her loving him the way he loved her. Stars, he was lucky.

"Miss y'more, sunshine. I have a surprise for y'tomorrow," he cooed into the brown pistil of the flower. He sent the message off, hoping she would be just as excited for his gift as he was to give it.

Now, he just had to make it.

—————

Harry spent the better part of his night tracking down the needed materials for his design. He already had his sunflowers, but he had to flit about the forest in search of a prospering grove of candytufts to accent the sheer material he envisioned for the set. He finished the night off with a collection of candytuft growing beside his thicket of sunflowers along with a small smattering of baby's breath to make the arrangement complete.

Just before bed, he gave the flowers a little extra love, spreading around a small glittering of his magic to help them grow just the way he needed for tomorrow. He ended the night with an audio sent to his sunshine, just after taking a picture of Dandelion cuddled to his chest he wanted to show her tomorrow, and a smile on his face.

Harry woke the next morning to the sun already bright in the sky, having woke up later than he was used to due to his late night. He knew he had a few hours until (Y/N) would come see him, adding a bounce to his step. He ate a quick breakfast of a croissant with a smear of honeycomb atop the pastry, hoping the sugar would start his morning off with a bit of a high. He dressed himself in a simple (at least for him) outfit of a pair of highwaisted cream trousers with a pair of matching braces over a lavender shirt printed with large psychedelic style flowers, perforated at the edges. His favorite part was the small stitching on the pant leg, declaring the item as LOVED. He was feeling special that day, dotting a bit of his lilac glitter paste along his cheekbones and down the middle of his chest.

He wasted barely a second after getting ready, fluffing a hand through his curls as the final touch, and hurried to his now flourishing arrangement of flowers. He picked the brightest of the flowers to use for his design, the petals of each blossom fluttering in his direction in search of the magic sunshine he carried in his veins.

He laid the selection out on the grass, envisioning the delicate fabric he wanted them to create. He gently settled his hands on the petals of the flowers, palms flat against the delicate structures. He felt his hands grow warm as the designs of the lingerie filled his head, his magic manifesting into his palms and beaming from the center.

He fluttered his eyes shut as the stems weaved together in front of him, the foliage shifting from the green hue of the earth and to the sheer, honey yellow fabric that made up the bralette from his design. The stems created slim blossoms, linking together to form straps to hold up the bandeau style of the bra, leaving the fabric free to conform to (Y/N)'s shape. The full of the flowers were embedded into the material, leaving large embroidered prints. The sunflowers fell past the edges, leaving the petals to extend just slightly out from the yellow mesh. Small clusters of the candytuft bordered the sunflowers with dots of baby's breath filling the gaps. The panties matched, the back of the underwear tapering into a thong. His cheeks flushed at the idea of his (Y/N) wearing the set, his fantasy from the day before of him being her personal photographer filling his thoughts.

The lingerie finally replaced the arrangement in front of him. He lent back with a sigh, his knees aching from being on the ground for so long with his palms still warm against his thighs from the magic he shared. The set laid in front of him, the lush grass of his clearing providing a backdrop for the fabric to rest on. He ran his fingers gently along the stitching of the flowers, the thread just as soft as the petals he used to make it.

It was everything he had envisioned. He hoped (Y/N) would love it as much as he did.

—————

"Harry! I'm here!"

Harry bolted from his closet, his gift for (Y/N) cradled in a blown up version of a rosebud. He knew she was getting close from the way his heart tugged in the direction down the mountain in search of its partner, but it still always hit him a little differently when she was really there. He left his gift for her in his closet, rushing out the door with a wide smile on his face.

"(Y/N)," he sighed when he caught sight of her. It always felt like the first time.

"Hi, honey," she smiled, opening her arms for him to slip into. He instinctually wrapped himself around her, his arms around her neck and his face in her hair. (Y/N)'s own arms looped around his middle, breathing a laugh against his chest.

"Missed y'so much," he cooed, pressing his lips against her hair in a sweet kiss.

She pulled back just enough to see his face, her own lips in a soft smile that Harry was sure matched the one on his face. "It never gets easier, huh?"

"Even a minute is too long to be away from you," Harry crooned, fighting off his smile knowing what her reaction to his cheesy words would be.

A large smile tugged at her lips, a sweet laugh filling the air between them. She rolled her eyes playfully, her aura around her a softening pink with bright spots of yellow. "I'm sure."

He ducked his head and pressed a kiss to her smiling lips. He gently nudged his nose against hers in a puppy's kiss, his forehead touching hers. "I mean it. Really," he whispered. As if it were a secret just how in love he was.

"I know." She pecked his lips one more time, sharing the taste of her peach chapstick with him. "Now, what's my surprise?"

In all of the excitement of finally having her in his arms again, Harry had completely forgotten about the overgrown rose in his closet holding his gift for her. "Oh!" He bounced in his spot, his brows raised and his mouth dropped to an 'O'. "Follow me, please!"

He took her hand gently in his, tugging her behind him up the small steps to his porch and through the screen door to his cottage. He led her directly to his closet, pulling her beside him as he flicked his free hand to the ceiling. The starry lights covering the ceiling lit up in response. The large rosebud sat untouched on the soft flooring, a curling of soft leaves keeping it upright as it awaited its blooming moment.

He saw her eyes widen as she saw the flower. "Harry," she sighed, "It's so pretty. I love it, thank you."

She knelt down by the flower, looking to Harry with a softened look in her eyes. Harry felt his own heart break from how full it was, seeing her so grateful and happy over something as simple as a flower she thought was her gift.

He knelt beside her, sliding the bud towards her with a shy smile on his face. "No, lovie, you've gotta open it. Your present's inside."

"Oh," she breathed, looking down at the delicate petals in front of her, "How?"

"Jus' touch the center and it'll bloom for you." And, what a privilege it would have to bloom just for her.

She followed his direction, the starlight focusing just above them to create a spotlight effect. She placed her fingers gently on the center where each of the petals converged, the tips brushing against her skin. They slowly unfurled under her touch, the rose becoming a bed for the lingerie set to rest against. The soft yellow of the fabric stood out proudly against the creamy white of the petals, the set's own flowers bright and blooming. (Y/N)'s fingers fluttered against the lingerie, slipping her fingers under the straps of the bra before holding it up for a better look.

"Harry," she sighed, looking to him before fixing her gaze on the lingerie set presented before her, "I love it. Did you make it?"

"Mhm," he hummed, a proud smile across his face. "I made it yesterday after I went home. I wanted to make it like the set I saw on your computer kit a couple weeks back, remember?"

"Yeah," she smiled, "Thank you, H."

She dropped the set back on the blooming flower, instead throwing her arms around his neck and climbing atop his lap. She planted a garden of kisses all over his face. She dotted them along his cheeks, Harry having to bite back a shy smile at all the affection she was showering over him. He settled his hands on her waist, tugging her body closer to his.

"Wanna try it on?"

"Oh, can I?" She jumped from his lap, a bright smile rivaling the shine of the sun on her face.

Harry nodded his head with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. "Wanna see what it looks like on you."

She reached down, grabbing his hand in her's before tugging him to stand beside her. She bounced to stand on her toes, pressing a kiss on his cheek before pushing him towards the door. "Go, go, go," she urged him, "I'll come out when its on!"

Harry reluctantly followed her directions, leaving her in his closet and closing the door behind him. He moved to sit on his bed, the mattress giving below his weight. A pout settled on his features as he waited.

He hated doing this, always feeling somewhat out of place when she was so close to him yet he couldn't be with her. He understood, of course. She wanted privacy and it was something he wouldn't hesitate to give her, but he never knew what to do with himself but wait for her. He missed her already.

Harry only had enough time to pick out his Odyssey and Oracle record by The Zombies, flicking the needle to play Care of Cell 44, when (Y/N) shouted from behind the closet door.

"Ready?"

"Yes, please," Harry rushed, taking his seat back on his bed in wait of the show he was hoping to get.

The white painted door opened, (Y/N)'s head popping out from the crack that formed between the frame and the door. A bright smile was on her face as a strand of hair fell into her face. "Are you sure?" she teased, blinking as if she had no idea.

"Sunshine, please. Really wanna see how pretty y'look."

She opened the door wider before slipping from behind the wood. She stood in front of the white paint, her hands tangled behind her back as she awaited his reaction.

Harry didn't even know what to say when he saw her. All of his designing visions, and images of seeing her splayed out within his wildflowers had nothing on the real thing. She was glowing in the fabric. The sunflowers and candytuft made him think of something akin to the Garden of Eden, the ethereal summertime that made up his Flame. Each stitch fit her perfectly, better than anything she could have ordered.

His shoulders dropped as the air was sucked out of him. His eyes softened and brows turned downward as he gazed at her with hearts in his eyes. "Y'look gorgeous, sunshine. Took m'breath away."

"Really?" She took small steps towards him, her bare feet padding against the wood flooring.

Harry widened the space between his legs, letting (Y/N) stand between his thighs as he sat on his bed. He settled his hands on her hips, his thumbs running along the flowers embroidered on her panties. His eyes traced a path up her body, taking in each curve and every bit of soft skin that was revealed to him through the softened yellow mesh. He stopped as he found her eyes, already looking down at him as he rested her hands on his shoulders.

"Really," he reaffirmed, "'M so lucky."

She fluttered her lashes at him, breaking his gaze and finding her white painted toes. "Thank you, Harry," she muttered, her voice shy and quiet.

"Love you s'much, sunshine. So, so, s'much." He pressed kisses to the skin of her tummy, his words being painted across the expanse. His nose skimmed along the skin, his eyes flicking up to find her already gazing down at him with an adoring smile on her face.

He was quick to tug her down onto the bed beside him, rolling over to lay atop her. She let out a melody of giggles, her hair haloing around her. A deep smile was on her face, becoming the centerpiece of the arrangement he made on her lingerie.

"I love you, too," she stuttered between her laughing, her arms wrapping around his neck as he laid between her thighs. He ducked his head down and slotted his lips against hers.

The same magic, powerful feeling rushed through his veins. He could feel the space around him coming to life, the flowers on his vines blooming in celebration of his affection for her. He could feel his heart pumping against his chest in time to her's, making it that much easier to feel the connection that was fated in the stars for them. The taste of peaches lingered on his tongue, the same fruit that fragranced his thoughts and tinted his vision. He would never be able to get enough her.

He only had one request. One thing to make this moment just as he pictured it.

Harry pulled back only to rest his forehead against her's, his nose nudging against the tip of his love's as he spoke. "Could I... Would y'be okay with me taking pictures of y'like this? On m'new camera?"

Hopefully, she wouldn't think of him and his idea as one of those slimy porno movies and their dirty directors he remembers from the seventies.

"You want to take polaroids of me like this?"

Her words were quiet between them, but she didn't seem upset. Harry gently nodded his head in response, his eyes finding her own bashful gaze.

"Only if you're okay with it."

"And we'd leave the pictures here? Only you and me would see them?"

"Only me and you."

He waited for a moment for her response, blinking up at him as her ankle hooked around the back of his knee.

"Okay." Her answer was simple, a small smile tugging at her lips as her teeth trapped the corner of her mouth.

"Really?" Harry asked, popping up from above her with his hands laying flat against the bedding beside her head.

"Of course," she smiled, "I know you really want to use your camera, and I trust you."

The moon was a kind woman for fating him with someone like (Y/N).

"O-okay," he stumbled over his words, bouncing off the bed and started towards his closet, "Let me get all m'stuff. Jus' lay there like y'were; looked really pretty."

He scrambled through his closet, finding the extra packs of film (Y/N) had brought him laid next to the pile of her discarded clothes. He refilled his camera, his hands shaking with excitement as he imagined the kind of photos he would have to add to his collection of her. He rushed out, finding (Y/N) still laid his bed, her hands adjusting the different straps and slips of fabric covering her body.

"Ready?" he asked as he drew closer, his boots heavy against he floorboards.

"Mhm," she hummed, looking to Harry with an expectant look on her features, "How do you want me?"

"Jus'-Jus' smile for me first, yeah?" he suggested, wanting her to feel comfortable before anything else. "Do whatever makes y'feel pretty."

She did as he asked, shooting him a smile as she twisted with her chin hitting her shoulder. The movement caused her breasts to press together, creating a deeper line of cleavage visible under the sheer fabric of the bralette. Harry snapped the picture quickly, pulling the photo from the slot and setting it aside to give it time to develop while he took others. He took a few more of her in that position, one with her hands in her hair and another of her blowing him a kiss as he was so fond of.

He took a step back after a moment, pulling the camera from his face and changing the angle from where he was shooting above her. He stood in front of his bed, only a step away from being between (Y/N)'s legs.

"Sit up f'me, please?" he asked, kneeling on the ground, uncaring over the cream fabric of his trousers.

"Like this?" she asked, sitting with her hands coming to rest on the bed between her legs. Her hair was fluffed around her, the tendrils framing her face. A small gape formed between her lips as she looked to him for direction on her pose.

She looked perfect.

"Jus' like that, gorgeous." He raised the camera back to his eye, gazing at her through the viewfinder and snapping the photo. This was sure to be his favorite.

He laid the undeveloped picture with the others, unable to tear his eyes from the real thing to see the other moments he had captured. He prompted her to keep going, do as she did before with small variations to the pose and doing whatever it was that made her feel good.

In one particular frame, she lent forward, giving Harry a view down her bra with her hair falling around her breasts. She gave him a bright smile, a juxtaposition to the sultry form her body had taken. Wait, this one was going to be his favorite.

He drew closer to her, absently shuffling along the floor until he was right between her legs. He just wanted to get a closer look. She straightened her posture as she looked to him.

"What next?" she asked, her hands tangling between her thighs.

"Anything y'want," he mumbled, his free hand coming to rest on her ankle. He gently rubbed his thumb along the bone, needing to have some form of contact with her.

She answered with a quiet okay, before running her hand through her hair before throwing her head back. Harry snapped a picture of the moment, finding the pose similar to when he would make her feel good with his mouth between her legs. His breathing became labored as the thought entered his mind. His other hand climbed up her leg, coming to rest on her knee just out of frame.

"Look s'fucking good, m'sunshine," he cooed behind the camera, unable to keep the thought to himself the longer he gazed up at her.

"You think so?" she asked, her voice quiet as she responded.

"Of course, m'love. Most gorgeous girl I've ever seen." He broke for a moment, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of her thigh.

She shot him a smile, brushing away a curl that had fallen on his forehead. "I love you."

A smile stretched across Harry's lips. "I love y'too, darling."

He prompted her to keep going, pulling himself that much closer to her. He watched on as her hand ran along the length of her thigh, leaning back as three of her fingers came to rest on the front of her panties.

His breath caught at the sight, feeling his cheeks flush as he realized what she was doing. He vaguely realized he had snapped a picture of her hand over a patch of candytuft, her white nails sticking out against the yellow of the fabric.

"Want me to keep going?" she asked from above him, her voice unsure.

"Please."

That seemed the be the only encouragement she needed, going further and dipping her hand under the fabric and letting out a breathy moan. Harry hadn't even realized there was a damp patch right on the center of her underwear, right where she got the most wet for him. His pants grew tighter as he realized his photos of her had made her wet, making each inhale that much heavier in his lungs. He got one last photo of her hand in her panties, her thighs bracketing her hands with the frame cutting off with only a bit of her tummy visible. He only had half the mind to pull the photo from the slot and add it to the growing pile of the others before he tossed the camera aside.

With both of his hands now free, Harry warmed her legs with his palms. He pressed matching kisses to the insides of her knees, working up to her inner thighs. One of his hands gently grabbed ahold of her hand in her underwear, pulling it from the fabric.

"Let me, sunshine. Wanna make you feel good now," he murmured, tugging her that much closer to the edge of the bed.

She replaced her hands in his hair, letting him play with the waistline of her underwear. She fell back on the mattress, her chest heaving. "You do it better, anyway," she moaned, shuffling closer to the edge of the bed and to Harry's face.

He gazed at the sight before him, the intricate stitching of the panties he had given to his darling right in front of him. He could see the puffy outline of her pussy underneath, the damp patch landing right over where he knew her hole to be. He ran his fingers gently just over the bump of her clit, a small moan of his name falling from his lover's lips.

He dusted kisses along her thighs, alternating between each side. She spread her legs further apart as he drew closer to her core, Harry's palms warming the outside of her thighs as he helped her split them. He flicked his gaze up to find (Y/N)'s eyes fluttered shut with her hands fisting the white duvet that covered his mattress. A lopsided smile tugged at his lips. Sometimes he forgot the effect she had on him went both ways, his own touch lighting up her senses.

"Feel good already, m'love?" he mumbled against her skin, his warm breath seeping through the sheer material of her underwear.

"Uh-huh," she sighed, nodding her head just enough for Harry to see. Her hands tightened around the bunched up fabric in her palms, her breasts heaving under the honeyed mesh of her bra.

"Like the way I touch you?" Harry couldn't help himself before he asked for her praise. He was a bit of a narcissist, what could he say?

"So much, H," she breathed, her breathing shaky, "More, please."

Her hands abandoned the duvet she laid on, opting to twist her fingers through his curls instead. She urged him closer to her core, the damp spot he had found earlier having spread during his teasing. He gave into her pulling, bringing his head between her thighs. He watched for her reactions as he pressed a trail of kisses along the thin fabric of her thong, the outline of her pussy visible through the mesh. He watched as her breathing stuttered, the smallest of moans leaving her lips. He dusted kisses along her core, the damp spot marking her underwear wet his lips as he pressed a hard kiss to the area. He trailed back up, finding the bump of her clit where he dusted a light kiss to, his tongue peeking out and following his lips in a small lick.

She jumped at the pressure, trying to close her thighs though his head was between them. "H-Harry, please."

He felt bad to have dragged out his teasing, but he couldn't deny the way he loved hearing her beg for him. He slid his hands up to her hips, his mouth following as he trailed up from the apex of her thighs and to the soft skin of her stomach as his curls tickled along her sides.

"Flip over for me, darling," he cooed to her, drawing away from her as he stood to his full height. She quickly followed his direction, Harry slowly unbuttoning the few buttons still done up on his top.

(Y/N) laid flat on her stomach, the sunflower dotting the top of her thong standing out brightly against her skin. Harry sank to his knees behind her, tugging the waistline of her underwear down her legs. He pulled the fabric off her ankles and threw it to the side, landing beside the pile of photos he was going to have the privilege of going through later. He slid his palms along the back of her thighs, the glitter that adorned his cheeks new glistened on the soft skin of her inner thighs, the flecks having transferred.

"Ready? Still want me?" he crooned to her, as his palms settled on the full of her ass, his thumbs on either side of her puffy pussy lips.

"Want you so bad, Harry," she whined in response, arching her back and pressing her center against his face.

Harry reared back with a sly smile on his face, only one dimple visible on his cheeks. "Y'sure? Dunno if I believe you."

"Harry, I swear—"

A breathy laugh left his lips at her snap, diving in and pressing a kiss to her glistening slit. "Jus' messing with you, sunshine."

Harry only received a sigh in response, the tense in her spine melting away in favor of arching further against his lips. He gently spread her lips apart, his thumbs on either side pulling the glistening folds apart and revealing her weeping hole. He swiped his tongue through the wetness, his chin dragging through behind his tongue as he broadly licked at her core. His own eyes fluttered closed as he lost himself in the taste of her, content to spend the rest of the night doing so.

His fingers dug deeper into the plush of her ass, Harry absently shuffling forward on his knees as he licked deeper in search of more and more of her honeyed sweetness. His tongue slipped inside her, following the source of the slick now dripping down his chin. He hummed small content noises against her pussy, the sound reverberating through her opening.

"H-Harry!" she called, the sound broken through her stuttered breathing. Her legs on either side of his thighs shook as she tried her hardest to keep upright.

"'S okay, lovely, 'm right here," he cooed, his voice muffled against her skin.

He trailed his tongue down to her puffy clit at the top of her slit, the flat of his tongue dragging along the bundle. A shudder ran through her body at the contact. (Y/N) absently pressed back against him, Harry deciding to fix his attention on the bundle of nerves. She clenched around nothing as he pressed his tongue harshly in short licks against her clit, (Y/N) letting out small keening noises that started as a call of his name before breaking off halfway through.

She was close, he could tell. But he didn't want her to cum yet.

"Are y'close, baby?" He waited for the whined confirmation coming from her before drawing away from her completely.

Harry sat back on his heels behind her. His hands fell from her ass and slid down her legs to the backs of her thighs. Her shoulders fell in heaving breaths, her imminent orgasm now settling in the pit of her stomach and falling away.

"W-What?" she asked, looking back at him with something akin to hurt on her face. "Why did you stop?"

"Don't want you to cum yet, lovely," he explained, looking to her as he stood from behind her. His hands drifted to the waist of his pants as he undid the button and zipper on the cream fabric, "Want us to cum together when 'm inside you."

"Oh," she breathed, her eyes fluttered closed at the sound of his words.

A lazy smile tugged at his features, his pants falling to the floor as he kicked them to the side along with his boots. He pulled his shirt off to join the growing pile of his clothes, leaving him in him naked behind her. "Do y'like that idea, sunshine?"

"Y-yeah," she keened, scrambling to pull her knees onto the mattress and arch her back for Harry to slip in behind her, "Wanna feel you cum in me, H."

Harry's breathed out a heavy sigh and felt his eyelids drop to a hooded position at the sound of her request. He positioned himself behind her, climbing to his knees on the bed with her hips in his hands.

"Ready?" He wrapped his fist around the shaft of his cock, passing his hand along his length a few times in preparation. The pressure caused a skip in his breathing and a tightening of his hand on her hip. He nudged the head against her glistening hole, the shine of her slick wetting the crown of his prick. He watched as her opening clenched around nothing, the sight only spurring him on.

"Uh-huh," (Y/N) breathed, her hair falling behind her shoulder as she looked back at him with wide eyes.

It only took Harry a second to follow through and sink his cock into her soft opening, her puffy lips splitting open to accommodate his size. Her walls fluttered around him as he thrusted his hips forward, (Y/N) breathing out a moan to accompany the stretching feeling. He bottomed out with his thighs flush against hers, the head of his cock pushing against her farthest walls.

He could feel her pulse around him, tightening enough that he had to keep himself upright with his hands on her hips to stop him from curling over her back. "S'fucking good, baby, b-best I've ever had."

"You're s-so deep, H." Her voice crumbled halfway through as she pushed herself back against him, the arch of her back deepening at the motion.

Harry ran his hand soothingly down her spine, his fingers skimming the back of her bralette before beginning to gently thrust his hips deeper against her. "Like when 'm this deep?" he asked, his voice breathless as he gently thrust his hips deeper into her warmth. He didn't even rear back, keeping the full of his length inside, only pushing in deep, shallow thrusts that touched deep within her.

She tried her best to say something back, only to have her voice fall into crackling, keening noises. Harry felt a sense of pride fall through him at the way he could make her crumble the same way he did with her. She clenched restlessly around him, her velveteen walls growing wetter with each push of his hips. She jolted forward just the smallest bit every time he pressed into her, her hands fisted in the white blanket under her being the only thing keeping her upright.

"H-Harder," she whined, the word breathless and broken as she tried to speak just as the head of his cock tapped against her farthest wall.

Harry didn't say anything back, only gripping the full of her hips tighter in his hands and rearing his hips back for the first time since sinking inside her, his tip being the only thing still inside her warmth. He drove his hips against her's, the slick noise of her pussy stretching around him sounded in conjunction with the soft clap of his skin slapping against her's.

"Like this, s-sunshine?"

She frantically nodded her head in response, her own hips matching his thrusts behind her. Harry allowed her to set the pace, her movements controlling each stretch of her pussy around his length and just how deep he hit inside her. His bottom lip was trapped between his teeth as he watched on, her arched back and raised ass giving him a sight he couldn't pull his eyes from. He slid one hand from her hip around her stomach, her skin raising in goosebumps at the feel of the blunt of his nails tracing along her skin. He dropped his hand between her legs, finding the bump of her clit sitting at the top of her slit.

She let out a call of his name as he ran tight circles around the bundle, the movement of her hips stuttering. Harry took control of the pace again, pulling back to leave only the head of his prick inside her before harshly driving his hips against hers. Her knuckles turned white as they tightened around the fabric in the palm of her hands, her arms shaking just before giving out to leave her hips raised behind her and face buried in the plush, white fabric under her. Her eyes were closed with her lashes dusting against her cheekbones, the full of her cheek smushed against the mattress. Her mouth was parted with her breath coming out in puffs that fell in time with each swing of his hips.

"S-S'pretty, baby, s'fucking pretty getting fucked," he whispered behind her, not intending for his lover to hear his breathless praising. He meant it, though, he never realized just how beautiful she was so disheveled and lost in the feeling of him.

Harry's gaze drifted from her face as he saw her reach blindly towards him, her hand resting on his own that still gripped her hip. She shakily tried to curl her fingers around his palm. "H-Harry," she stuttered, "W-will you hold my hand?"

Her voice was small and could have been lost within her panting breaths, but Harry couldn't miss the way she searched for such a simple affection in the middle of a heated moment. He released his hold on her hip almost immediately, lacing his fingers between hers before curling forward and dusting a line of kisses along her spine. Her hold on his hand was tight, rivaling the way her pussy clenched around his length.

"'S okay, m'love," he crooned, his voice strained against her skin, "'M right here."

His line of kisses reached the hem of her bralette, his nose skimming along the honey colored fabric. Harry wanted to taste more of her skin, but he didn't have it in him to peel his creation from her form. He smeared his lips along the edging of the fabric, the embroidered flowers jutting out from the main structure and brushing along his chin.

All through his attempts to move closer to her, his fingertips never stopped running tight circles around her clit. Her walls hugged tighter around him, seemingly drawing his length in deeper.

"A-Are y'close?" he breathed, his forehead dropping to rest against her back as his hips stuttered, breaking their curated pace.

She jerkily nodded her head, the duvet creasing under her movements. "I-I'm so close, H. You f-feel so good."

Harry felt his own orgasm teetering on the edge, his balls drawing up tight against the underside of his cock. He needed only a little more, one small thing from his Flame before he could allow himself to let go and fall into her request of cumming inside her.

"Wanna hold you, lovely." He hesitantly drew his hand from her clit to wrap his arm around her stomach. His hips stilled before slowly pulling out, his shaft shining with the wet of her slickness.

"W-what?" She sounded desperate, tired of his teasing as this was now the second time he brought her that much closer to release before stopping all together.

"Lay down with me, sunshine. Wanna fuck y'like that," he explained, his words mumbled between them.

He moved her with gentle hands, her body pliantly moving each way he wanted. He positioned her to lay with her head on his fluffed pillows on her side as he slid behind her. Her heated skin radiated a warmth matching his, Harry's chest pressed flush against her back.

"Jus' a little more, darling, then y'can cum, yeah?" He spread her slit open as he spoke, nudging his head against her opening before slipping back into her warmth.

"H-Harry," she keened, reaching for his hand again as he wrapped his arm around her tummy.

He resumed his deep thrusts from before, the knot in his stomach rapidly tightening to the familiar pressure he was at before. He free hand slid back to her clit, repeating the same circles he rounded around the bundle he knew she liked. He buried his face into her neck as he cuddled her from behind, the intimate position catering to everything Harry craved when he was absent of his Flame's touch.

"'M gonna cum," Harry groaned, unable to stave off the pressure in his muscles as she relentlessly tightened her walls around his cock. "C-Cum with me, darling, please."

She brought their joined hands to her chest, the smooth fabric of her bralette brushing along his forearm. She breathing came out labored as she tightened her hold on his hand, each word she tried to voice came out broken and unfinished, but Harry knew what she was trying to tell him. She was close and he was too.

It only took a few more passes of his fingers over her clit before he felt her become impossibly wet around him. "H-Harry!" she called, her back arching against him with her hair falling around where Harry was still cuddled into her neck and curtaining the space.

She clenched tightly around him, her walls milking him. Feeling her cum around him with his name floating in the air in the tone of her voice was just enough to pull him over the edge. She tugged him down with her, the pressure in his balls releasing as his mouth dropped open with his lips brushing against her skin.

"'M cumming, 'm cumming," he moaned out, his voice strained as the words smeared across her skin in heated pants.

His thrusting stilled as ropes of cum painted the inside of her walls. He shallowly pushed his hips through her fluttering hole, riding him through his orgasm as he grew more and more sensitive with each pull.

(Y/N) had settled before him, her breathing becoming more even and deep than the shallow heaves Harry was still fighting through as he came down from the high. He pulled his fingers from the wet of her clit, instead opting to wrap his arms around her middle. He cuddled closer against her back, his face still buried in the smooth skin of her neck with his softening cock nestled inside her.

Harry ghosted his lips along her shoulder, his lashes dusting along afterwards at the proximity. "I love you, I love you, I love you," he crooned against her heated skin, the remnants of the glitter that adorned his skin that morning now flecked along her own. "M'soulmate."

He was sensitive enough as it was, but there was something about the endorphin drop after sex that made him that much more sentimental in the moments after release. He loved her so much and it was a secret he couldn't keep to himself.

(Y/N) breathed an adoring laugh, Harry able to imagine the sweet smile that graced her features. "I love you too, soulmate." She squeezed her hand around his, lazily moving away from him before Harry's arm around her tummy stopped her.

"N-No, wanna stay inside," he whined, "Please, can I?"

A beat of silence passed between them. "Can I get cleaned up first? I kinda need to go to the bathroom." Harry could hear the smile in her voice.

He reluctantly agreed, planting a single kiss to her neck before unlacing their fingers and allowing her to put space between them. She shot him a smile before muttering a be right back! and heading towards the bathroom. Harry felt an aftershock of sensitivity shoot through him as he swears he saw a trail of his cum leaking from between her thighs.

While he waited for her (the weight of missing her settling in his lungs almost immediately), he flicked his hand lazily over the pile of clothes that accumulated beside the bed. His discarded ensemble disappeared to his closet, a set of sweatpants for himself and an old Rolling Stones shirt for (Y/N) taking their place. He did the same with the record player resting at the end of his bed. He traced his finger in the air, The Zombies' record following after and being replaced with Some Girls from The Rolling Stones.

Just as Harry shuffled the set of black sweatpants up his legs, (Y/N) emerged from the bathroom. She still had her custom bra wrapped around her breasts, with no panties covering her modesty. A smile bloomed across Harry's face as he caught sight of her.

"I got one of m'shirts out for you," he smiled, his dimples denting his cheeks as he sat on the bed waiting for her.

"Thank you, honey," she laughed, turning her back to him before bending over and grabbing the shirt from the floor. Harry had a hard time drawing his eyes from the sight, watching on as her fingers unlatched the back of her bra before the fabric fell to the ground.

As (Y/N) tugged the top over her head, Harry drew back the white comforter covering his mattress, settling himself under the fluff of the fabric. He waited adoringly for her, warming the space beside him with a brush of his palm along the sheets.

"Did you still want to—"

"Yes!" Harry cut her off, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth as he thought back to the warmth between her legs and the intimacy he felt when inside her.

A warm smile settled on her features as she nodded her head, "Okay, H."

She settled into the space beside him, Harry throwing the duvet over their shoulders. She shuffled closer to him, her arm slipping under his own as she cuddled closer to him. Her palm was splayed open on his back, her nails soothingly tracing along his skin.

"Ready?" Harry asked, flicking his eyes to hers. The aura around her was filled with a sleepy sage green, with notes of an adoring pink and a calmed blue.

"Mhm," she hummed, hooking her leg over his hip and spreading her legs for him.

Harry was quick to pull his softened cock from his sweatpants, a shudder flitting up his spine at the sensitivity. He slid his other arm under her side, his forearm pressed against her back and tugging her flush against his chest. He cautiously thrusted his hips forward, sinking inside her as he did not even ten minutes prior.

A small keening noise fell from his fated's lips, her fingers on his back digging into the soft of his muscle. Harry held his breath as he bottomed out, a calm falling over his shoulders.

He was with her, and that was all he needed.

(Y/N)'s own tense muscles softened as the full feeling settled in her stomach, her warmth transferring around Harry just as he imagined. He held her close to him, dropping a kiss to the top of her head, as she pressed a matching peck against the dip of her collarbone.

"Comfortable?" he asked, his voice muffled as he spoke into her hair.

"Yeah," she sighed, "I like this."

He smiled against her strands, his nose skimming along her scalp. "Me too."

They laid in silence for a moment, Harry reveling in the intimacy of the moment. His fingers trailed lightly along the dip of her waist, tracing love filled phrases into her skin. He waited patiently for the question he knew was coming, one she posed almost every time they were listening to music before falling asleep.

"What song is this?"

There it was. She once told him that she loved hearing his voice as she fell asleep, especially when he was talking about something he loved, like music. He never complained when she would seek this out from him, more than happy to keep talking till she fell asleep and he allowed himself to follow.

"'S Miss You from the Stones, 's on the album you're wearing the shirt for, actually..."

—————

I haven't written smut for witch h in SO LONG!!!!! I missed him ! anyway !!!! thank u all sm for reading and to whoever requested!! sorry for any mistakes and if u have any ideas of ur own please send them in ! 

Baby, It's Cold Outside

So basically this was meant to be a shorty, but it turned into almost 9k of cuteness and smut. So happy holidays, my loves! Here is some friends to lovers cuteness and filth <3

Check out our Patreon for over 100 exclusive writings!

Warnings: Smut

WC- around 9k

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

Y/N hadn’t meant to fall asleep on Harry’s couch. Honest.

But anyone who had the pleasure of sitting on the cloud like crimson couch could tell you, it was hard to get out of it once you were in. Harry had to answer some business emails, of course, because as much as she liked her friend, she was well aware he was a workaholic. Lawyer by day, and by night. He had invited a few people over for a movie night but Y/N was the only one who was free- but it was fine. It meant more popcorn and pizza for them anyways- and he had been a doll and ordered her the BBQ Chicken pizza on a flat crust. She got it all to herself as they watched the original claymation of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, which was a classic if you asked her. Her stomach full, she still picked at some of the M&M’s and tried to ignore the little jump her heart gave when their hands brushed. Their thighs had already been knocking together and Y/N had been trying to talk some sense into herself considering she knew there was no meaning to it. He sat close to her so they could both reach the popcorn and share the candies! He kept the bowl balanced on his thigh so she could reach over and get it. Duh. 

But after their second movie, Elf, his phone began to ping. Why, Y/N didn’t know. It was literally 9 in the evening, there was no reason to do so, but when Harry asked if she was okay with him stepping away for a few moments to answer some things in his office, she didn’t make a fuss. No, she continued watching albeit with a slightly heavier heart when 30 minutes had passed and he hadn’t reappeared- but that was neither here nor there. 

She can’t remember doing it, burying her face in the pillow that he had been using and curling up into a little ball on his couch, snoozing away. The warmth of his home was welcoming, and she was vaguely aware that the wind had picked up outside- but she fell asleep shortly after. Firmly planted in dreamland where she was picking blueberries for a pie in the summer. Why that exact dream, she wasn’t sure. What she did know is that she stirred to the feeling of a warm hand stroking her head, soft whispers of her name coaxing her from the impromptu nap. 

“Y/N?” He murmured, sitting next to her with a furrowed brow. Her eyes peeled open and blinked sleepily at him, confusion written in them as she looked over his face and the fact that the TV had the ‘are you still watching?’ notification on the screen. “Hey, sleepy girl.” He smiled slightly before it dropped. Her heart fluttered in her chest from the close proximity and fondness in his tone. “M’so fucking sorry. Time got away from me and before I knew it I was up there for an hour and a half- and m’a shit friend.” He frowned, unaware of the tantrum Y/N’s stomach was throwing from his hand resting on the side of her head. His thumb was brushing right before her ear, the slight sound tickling a part of her brain she hadn’t even known existed. He made her so nervous. 

“Oh.” She said quietly, unsure how to reply. It kind of sucked that he had spent their movie night tucked in his office. Y/N didn’t get to spend a lot of time with Harry lately, his workload picking up, and she had been going on about how good it was to see him for once. The lighthearted teasing held a semblance of truth and Harry could tell, which made him feel pretty shit right now when he saw the slight dejection on his face. If only she knew.  

“I know. M’sorry.” He whispered. “But uh….” his eyes strayed to the window. “We’ve got a bigger problem now.”

This had Y/N sitting up, silently mourning the loss of his hand that had flexed slightly as it fell back to the couch. “What do you mean?” Her nerves shot up, turning to look at the window as well. It was significantly cooler in the house now, her arms erupting in chills as her blanket fell from her shoulders as she got up to look. She’d seen a peek of white, but she hadn’t been prepared to see the truth outside. The blur of snow, piling up high and showing no sign of stopping. She rubbed her sleepy eyes, cursing under her breath. She’d gotten an uber here, but there was no way in hell any would be out right now. “Fuck.” Her tone was a soft groan, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes. “There’s no way I can get a ride home now.”

“I know.” Harry said back. “But it’s a good thing I’ve got lots of blankets, yeah?” He didn’t want to admit to her that there was something in him that was almost excited that she would be trapped here with him. That the reason everyone else had canceled was the weather, apparently, that neither of them looked into until Harry had checked his phone just moments before waking her up. It was going to snow all night, and all day. Y/N was stuck here, and he didn’t know for how long. 

“Are you sure?” Nibbling her bottom lip, Y/N worried. She didn’t want to be a pain but there was no way she was walking home in this. No way Harry would ever let her either- and it wasn’t like she could ask him to drive her, it wouldn’t be safe. There was no other option other than staying. 

“Course I am. Are you kidding?” He scoffed. “We can just continue watching. I really am sorry- we’ve got this case, the wife is trying to take half the assets.” He moved towards the couch and began to move things back to neaten it up. “We were trying to negotiate but then the PI that the husband hired found the proof of her infidelity, so it changed the case structure completely. I got in my own head, and I apologize.” It was obvious he actually felt really bad about it. Harry was passionate about his job, working with personal injury, divorce, and estate law. It made sense to her considering he was a busybody, and apparently could argue with anyone about anything- she’d seen it first hand with a tipsy Harry and Niall at karaoke night, arguing over the perfect color for those little drink umbrellas. 

“It’s okay, Harry.” She smiled softly. “I wish I could find something to be as passionate about and make my job. M’just stuck at the cafe for now.” She joked. The cafe was fine, she liked her coworkers, but there was no passion there. She did her job, collected her money and went home. 

“You will, love. It’s never too late.” He was always encouraging of her going after her dreams, especially over one drunken conversation about wishing she could do art full time- but Y/N was a realistic person and she had real rent to pay. Being a no-one in the art field would lead to ‘exposure’ work and exposure didn’t pay the bills. She needed to work on it but she was always so tired after work- eventually she would get there, but it was nice to know that someone believed in her. One of her paintings hung over his fireplace, actually, making her smile every time she came over. She painted his cat for his birthday, which had actually made him tear up. That had gotten her a very long hug and a solid appreciation for how muscular he was. 

Y/N decided to help him out, readjusting the blankets and pillows as he brought the now cold pizza and treats into the kitchen. It was then that it hit her- she was going to spend the night at his house, and possibly the whole day tomorrow. Snowed in at Harry’s House. He was pretty choosy about the people that came over, citing that ‘his home is his sanctuary and he needs to protect it’, which she sort of liked. When she was in college, she had opened her home up for a bit for the parties and decided that she wasn’t a fan of a lot of people in her space either, so knowing he felt similar made her feel special. 

“Okay.” He brought out the hard cider. “I’ve got the holiday version and the regular. Both are good, the holiday version is a bit more cinnamon-y.” He held up the bottles, teetering them in his hands. “Which would you like?” 

“I’ll go with regular, please. Too much cinnamon makes me sneeze.” She admitted. “Weird, but even when I get it on my coffee I get a bit sniffly.” It was weird, considering it wasn’t exactly an allergy- but maybe a sensitivity. 

“Oh, shit.” He raised his brows. “Okay, We’ll do regular then.” He handed it over to her after snapping the cap off with his bottle opener. “Don’t need a sneeze storm along with the snow storm.” The poor attempt of a joke made her snort, shaking her head. Harry’s jokes were infamously horrible, genuinely cringe worthy, but he had to have some sort of flaw. No one was that good looking and went away without something. Taking the frosty glass bottle in hand, she blamed it for the shivers- and not the fact his fingers brushed her own. 

“Let’s get started again, yeah? Let me turn my phone off for real this time.”

—-----

The movie watching had turned to more of a movie and chat. Harry sat closer to her than before, claiming it was ‘cold as fuck’ before starting a fire. The room was dim except for the flat screen mounted above said fireplace, his twinkling christmas tree and the comforting warm glow of the flames crackling

“I really am sorry, you know.” He murmured, breaking her out of thought as he let his fingers play with the ends of her hair. Harry had been a bit more touchy tonight, she noticed. She was trying not to let it be known how much it actually affected her. She’d managed to keep her little crush under wraps for months now, and she didn’t want to slip up. It was hard not to, especially after they’d kissed on halloween. It was a dare, of course, everyone tipsy as shit, but it had done something to her. Their costumes accidentally ended up matching, so it was pushed and she didn’t mind. The girl had been so sure she was immune to Harry’s hypnotic charm, but the kiss had been… really fucking good. It wasn’t something that was rated R, but she got a bit of tongue from him, his hand cupping his jaw carefully enough to not mess up her makeup, and the length… If she had been a bit more drunk, she would have pulled him back for more. Since then she’d been a bit fucked. It was both fortunate and not so that Harry got a lot busier at work after that. 

“What for?” She asked, giving him a questioning look. Harry had already apologized for taking so long and it wasn’t something she was still upset about. Not with her body buzzing and heating up with him so close to her. 

“I’ve been kinda selfish. Forgot to ask more about you.” He frowned. “We’ve been a gossipy bunch tonight but.. You’ve been holding out a bit.” He teasingly tugged her hair. It was hard to keep her shiver from that hidden, as she really liked the feeling. “Remember you told us you’d been seeing someone. How’s that going?”

Y/N was confused for a moment. What was he talking about? Y/N hadn’t gone on a date in months. She wracked her brain, trying to place what he was talking about- when it hit her. Not too long after they’d kissed, Bradley had opened his mouth and asked Y/N about the date she had been on with his friend. Someone she had been set up with, and definitely didn’t like. Her nose crinkled as she shook her head. 

“God, you remember that? It was awful.” She said in distaste. “We went to like.. Two dates. The first one and then the second one only happened because Brad kind of pressured me into it.” Her eyes rolled, still annoyed at her lack of a backbone when it came to hurting people’s feelings. She’d been really trying to work on that. The whole putting yourself on the line just to ensure other people are happy and god forbid you hurt someone’s feelings thing.

“Pressured you?” Harry’s fingers paused in her hair. “How do you mean?” She could see it in his face, his irritation rising. One of the things she liked the most about Harry was how respectful he was towards women. It was a hard thing for some men to conceptualize, apparently, but Harry naturally knew how to be a decent human being. It said more about other men than him. 

“Well.. After halloween I told Brad I wasn’t feeling it with his friend when he asked me how it went, but he told me how much his friend liked me and I shouldn’t give up on it so quickly. Give him another shot. And then I was a stupid baby and decided to put the random man’s feelings above my own, and it was a second sucky date. I mean, there wasn’t anything inherently wrong with the guy. I was just bored. He just wasn’t my person, y’know? I felt bad wasting his time and giving false hope.” Her lips twisted in a grimace. It wasn’t a thing she was proud of. “But yeah, I know you’ve been busy lately. Though I would have thought Brad would have told you when you guys worked out? You two love to gossip like old hens.” She knew they met up every week.

“Yeah. I would have thought so too.” He said, something underlying in his tone that she didn’t quite get. “He uh.. He told me that you guys still saw each other occasionally, though?” He looked thoroughly confused which in turn, made her even more so.

“I mean, yeah. Kind of? He comes into the cafe and we’re friendly enough. I ended up telling him after the second date that I wasn’t seeing it go anywhere but I’d like to be friends. I’d say we’re more acquaintances than anything else, but he’s got a girl he’s seeing. I served them the other day.” Y/N wasn’t sure why Harry looked upset, almost annoyed at the information, but she was going to find out. “I’m sorry, are you okay? You just look annoyed, is all.” She tried her best to be soft about it, but she had no idea why on earth he would be annoyed about what she just said.

“No- no, s’nothing you did.” He assured her, rubbing over her back once he realized she was taking his expressions personally. “It’s just- he kept saying you guys hit it off and made it seem like… like you were taken by him. I dunno why he’d do that when…” He paused, shaking his head. It confused her even more, unsure as to why Brad would do that either. What did he have to gain by lying- or stretching the truth?

“When, what?” She asked. What would be in it for him?

“I don’t want t’make it weird, but he knew I was plannin’ on asking you out after Halloween but… he told me you and his friend had hit it off.” He stiffened slightly. “I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable, it’s water under the bridge, but I’m just a little upset that he lied.” 

Y/N’s stomach dropped. 

“He did what?” 

“Yeah, I’m not sure… what the motive for that was.” He scratched the base of his neck uncomfortably. It was obvious he hadn’t necessarily wanted to divulge that information to her but she was really fucking glad he did. 

She was also angry. Brad knew damn well Y/N and his friend didn’t hit it off and he had told him, albeit politely, straight to his face. It pissed her off immensely if he was being honest. It only made her hypothesis more glaringly correct the more she thought about it, but it wasn’t her place to tell Harry that Brad most definitely had a nasty, big crush on him as well. It was hard not to have one on him, having fallen victim to the Styles Charm herself. 

“I don’t either but… No. M’single. I have been for months.” She admitted, not sure if the feeling in her stomach was caused by the alcohol, the anticipation, or the revelation. “I would have said yes, by the way. If you’d asked.” Finding the nerve to meet his eye, she was taken aback at the pure green mixed with a splash of oceanic blue. She’d been up close before but this felt other worldly. Knowing that he was planning on asking her out in any capacity had the feeling in her stomach intensify, looking into eyes that were so pretty it shouldn’t be allowed. 

“Yeah?” He asked quietly, the air stilling slightly in the room. He was looking back just as intensely, just as intently, making her body react in ways she hadn't felt in a long time. Giddy, like a kid on christmas from the revelation. “Well… I feel a little silly now. Should have just asked you myself. But… he said you were happy and I didn’t want to intrude on that but it was hard t’be around and not want to tell you so, I kinda buried myself in work for a bit. I didn’t want to be a miserable bastard, like some child who had his toy taken away, but I felt sad that I’d missed my chance.” 

The frown on his face made Y/N want to coo. He was so, so sweet. This man. He was incredible, wasn’t he? So human, but honest. Admitting his honest feelings to her despite them being potentially embarrassing. Y/N took a bit of his confidence in tow as she replied to his words, still anxious but knowing that if he could, so could she. 

“I missed you. Was sad you stopped coming around.” She rested her hand on his shoulder. There was a new energy, a static between them that she could feel on her fingertips. “It wasn’t silly, though. Your feelings are valid. I understand. I’d probably be a bit hurt if I had a great kiss with someone and then found out they were supposedly seeing someone else not long after. It’s an icky feeling.” Y/N truly couldn’t blame him. She could blame Brad, though. She would. 

“Yeah, but I should have… I dunno. Something felt off, I should have trusted my gut as you like to say.” He teased lightly, moving his hand up to the side of her neck. “But… ‘great kiss’, huh?” His raspberry lips, still wet from his sip of beer, turned up in a smirk. “You thought so? How great was it, really?” 

Y/N could feel herself flush. God, she had been speaking truth so it hadn’t crossed her mind on how she worded it but somehow, she wasn’t regretting it. If anything, she felt a bit of relief, though his teasing made her flustered. “Stop.” She pushed his shoulder. “I was just- I was just saying.” She grumbled, eyes falling from his back to his curled mouth. She remembered just how good it felt against her own, how his hand had tightened on the back of her costume and urged her closer while the other had delicately held her jaw. A gentle, commanding presence. A will she was willing to bend to. 

“Oh, don’t look away, sweetness. M’just teasing.” He cooed, lifting his knuckle to bump her chin back up. “Look cute when you’re embarrassed though. It’s sweet.” His confidence seemed to rise again at her words, which relieved her slightly. At least one of them was feeling it. “For the record- it was a really, really great kiss. S’part of why I wanted to ask you out, hm? Wanted more of that. You’re such a sweet little thing. Always so kind to everyone, maybe a little shy but… s’cute.” Laying on the praise was making her feel like she was boiling, a shy mewl leaving her mouth as she went to divert her eyes again but was interrupted by his hand. 

“No more of that. Let me see your pretty eyes when m’talking to you.” It was like he had shifted, making her eyes widen. Her body wanted to respond, blinking rapidly before nodding at him slowly. “Good. Can’t believe there was so much wasted time. M’gonna have words with Brad later, but I don’t think we should wait much more. Do you?” his thumb brushed her bottom lip, making her thighs want to squeeze together. This was a side of him she had only seen the tiniest blip of when they kissed, but god, did she like it. Her body hanging on to his words. 

“N-No.” She tripped over the word. “How d’you mean?” The tone was breathless, still in awe of how the situation had shifted. How his hand held the back of her neck and his hand kept her chin up so he could see her eyes. They hooded slightly, tummy twisting in anticipation. He was close, much closer than she had originally thought, and holding her face in a similar fashion to their first kiss. 

“Shouldn’t wait to do what we both obviously want. I’d like t’take you out when we’re able to get out of the house, but we were held back because of some lies… and I had a lot planned for us all from that one little, really good kiss.” He murmured. The side of his face was illuminated by the roaring fire, the movie fading into the back of her mind as her eyes searched his face. “It’s been hard to be around you knowing what this mouth tastes like and knowing the pretty little noise you let out when I went t’pull away. Didn’t even want to but you seem to forget to breathe when you’re being kissed, silly girl.” He chuckled under his breath. 

“Only with you.” She whispered. It hadn’t been something she meant to say out loud but seeing his smile was worth it- even a tiny bit of a blush if she was seeing correctly. He was stealing a bit of her brain power, she thinks, but at this point she didn’t mind. Harry could take over and she would happily follow. 

“Yeah? With me?” He taunted, leaning closer and feeling his nose brush hers. It was cooler than his own, the fire only now starting to heat the room up- but he wanted to keep her warm in another way. At her nod, he let out a sigh. “So can I kiss you again? It’s all I can think about, y’know. When you’re around. Been dying to kiss you and even more. Such a sweet thing, y’are. So good to me. Make me laugh, make me smile. Was gutted when I thought you were with someone else. I’ll tell you a secret.” his thumb brushed her chin again, close enough that his breath could be felt against her lips. “It drove me mad, thinking about you with some other bloke. Someone who I know can’t make you feel half as good as I can. Can’t treat you like the perfect thing you are. Proper princess, aren’t you?” 

Y/N was hanging on to his words, nodding along. She always wanted that, wanted to be treated like she was a diamond. To be delicately handled when need be, spoiled with affection. Harry had that quality to him, a man who could take care of business but also come home and dote. At least it seemed that way. She had to imagine him after work, suit jacket strown against the side of the couch and his tie undone, glass of bourbon in his hand. Imagine climbing in his lap and pressing kisses to his face and watching the tension in his body melt away. Let him take out his frustrations on her body instead of letting it fester on his own. 

“I can be.” She replied, leaning into him. “I’d like it, a lot.” It felt hard to come up with the right words to express how she felt, how much she genuinely felt the urge to just jump on him- but he beat her to it.

Buttoning their lips together, he scooted closer to her and held her jaw tenderly. Touching her in a way reminiscent of the way he had before, she was stiff for a mere moment before melting into his touch. He was warm, much more so than her, and the blanket that had been thrown over his lap shifted so he could get closer to her. Y/N followed suit, lifting her hand to his chest, palm down on the heated shirt. His heart could be felt thumping away underneath her grasp, cluing her into the fact he was just as worked about about it as she was. 

When he pulled back for a second she let out another whine, though the air felt good in her lungs. It was hard to breathe when he was kissing her, not wanting to waste a single second of the experience. Her brain was a loop of his name, not thinking about the oxygen she needed. Now she was needy, knowing that her feelings were returned in a way. She whined again as he halted her from going in again. “Breathe, sweetness. I’ll keep kissing you, but you’ve got t’remember to breathe for me.” His voice was hypnotic and he had all the control. Y/N willingly let it go. She wanted to give it to him. 

“Sorry.” She peeped. “It’s hard.. Hard to think.” There was nothing but honesty in her tone, making him want to coo. Y/N was so precious, it hurt. Harry loved that he had this effect on her. The girl was putty in his hands, marshmallow fluff seeping between his fingertips. He hadn’t gotten to see this side of her before and he loved it. Being a man who was in charge most of the time and thoroughly enjoyed it, he loved that she put her trust in him and made herself malleable. 

“Mm? S’hard to think when I’m kissing this pretty mouth?” He smiled, “Good. You don’t have to think. I’ll take care of you, sweet thing.” He brushed hair off her face before sitting back on the couch. “Come sit on my lap, darling. Don’t worry your pretty little head about a thing.” He was taking the reins now, and Y/N eagerly followed. Clambering onto his thighs, he had shucked the blanket to the floor and let her warming body settle on top of his. Her body melting into his lap, she clutched his tee shirt before surging back in and connecting their mouths back together.

Y/N was needy in a way she hadn’t experienced before. One of her hands slipped into his hair as he returned the kiss with matching fervor, sliding his hand down her waist and pulling her in so she was pressed against him. Breasts against his chest, the plushness of her body making his fingers dig a bit deeper as he licked into her mouth. She was his willing accomplice, his sweet escape as she mewled softly against his tongue. This was even better than their first kiss, in the privacy of Harry’s home where she could let herself go fuzzy. She’d known him long enough, trusted him, pined after him- Y/N was ready and willing for him. Spreading her thighs over his lap further and making sure they were touching in every single way possible. 

A noise she wasn’t familiar with left her throat, a little grumbly moan as he sucked on her tongue and pulled off before taking more. She hadn’t been kissed like this before, her body burning as it got heated rather quickly.The revelation of returned feelings, the pining they’d silently been doing, the kiss they’d shared that haunted them, the desperation to make up for lost time- it all was a perfect concoction to the perfect storm. Hand sliding over one another, revving up the neediness as she slowly began to shift in his lap. Rolling her hips. A dangerous but necessary move. 

“Careful, Darling.” The warning was mumbled against her mouth. “M’burning for you. Keep rubbing yourself against me like a little kitten and m’gonna take care of it.” All of the pent up neediness was showing itself, rearing its head and spilling over onto the carpet. Y/N would be embarrassed if she wasn’t so into him, and if he didn’t help guide her hips on him. She wanted to be his, wanted to know what he sounded like. She was in awe of how good it felt to just rub up against him. The large hand cuffed around her waist while their spit slicked lips hungrily kissed one another. Harry was unraveling her and he barely had to try. Pathetic, maybe, but he had a strong effect. 

She continued the movement, even going as far to rub a bit harder before she was physically stopped, his hand gripping her chin and tugging her away. It was disorienting, making her whine in sadness, but she looked at him with a bleary gaze ad his thumb wiped at some of the wetness smeared under her mouth. “Need you to tell me how far t’go.” Harry wanted to be sure he wasn’t crossing any boundaries. He needed to. With any of his partners he established those, but Y/N especially. He would weep if he misunderstood and make her uncomfortable. “C’mon, pretty girl. I know you’re a bit out of it, but let me know what you want.” He could feel her squirm on his lap, but a simple raise of an eyebrow made her freeze. 

“Anything.” She whispered. “Anything, please. Just want…” She swallowed, trying to say it properly. “Just want to make you feel good. Want you to want me. S’cold, I need you to keep me warm.” Her tone was a little pathetic, but Harry seemed to enjoy it. Relish in it, actually, with how much she was desperate for it. 

“Oh, sweet baby. Want you regardless of what this body offers me… But if you want me to do anything I want, you won’t mind me slipping these off?” He plucked at the waistband of her fuzzy pajama pants. Light blue with little penguins and snowflakes. “And this?” Her white cropped tank top. Her cardigan was hung over the back of the couch, and he had access to the bare skin of the sliver of her stomach. “Yeah?” He replied to her head bobbing in agreement. “I can see my pretty girl and keep her warm?” 

“Mhm.” She agreed. “Take it off. Want it off.” Her hands tugged at his shirt, making it lift up slightly. It was well known he was covered in tattoos but she wanted it up close and personal. She wanted bare skin against her own, wanted to bite on the curve of his neck and see what sounds he would make. 

“Okay, needy thing.” He laughed through his nose, tugging his shirt over his head to expose himself. Swallows at the collar bones, a dusting of chest hair, the butterfly on his stomach. His arms showing off more ink, his muscles- god, he was good. So fucking hot that Y/N felt herself ruining her panties even further. How was it possible for a man to work her up just from a little kissing and grinding, merely looking at his shirtless form in the way it had for her? “How’s it, hm?” 

“So pretty.” Her voice mumbled, running her hands hesitantly down his chest. Brushing his nipples slightly, making him groan before they reached his butterfly tattoo. “You’re so pretty, H.” It made the man’s ego raise up, not really being called pretty all that often. Sexy, handsome, sure. But pretty was a newer one.

“You’re prettier.” He kissed her jaw, tangling his digits in the hem of her top. What he hadn’t expected was for her bare breasts to be exposed as he lifted it up. The top had a built in bra, leaving little to the imagination to begin with but… god, he was in heaven. Dipping his head down, he kissed the top of her chest before making his way down with sticky kisses. “God, fuck me. You’re fucking gorgeous.” He hissed, palming one of her tits. “Been trying to hard to keep my eyes away from these but, but I keep droolin’ over them. Imagined them covered in my cum, did y’know that?” He worked over the curve of the exposed one whilst squeezing the other. Enjoying the feel of her in his palms. “That’s the only way they could look prettier. Covered in me.” His tongue found her nipple, making her squeak. 

Y/N let out a squeak, moving a hand to his hair as he worshiped her chest. Licking, kissing, sucking, even biting down softly on her nipple before switching sides, letting his thumb brush over her now wet and slightly swollen nipple. Her cunt wept, her clit throbbing as her breathing got heavier and she tried to withhold her noises. She was making some, sure, but it was embarrassing how much wanted to pour from her lips. 

“Don’t hold back from me.” He pinched her nipple harder than before, making her squeal. “Said I wanted to hear those noises, didn’t I? Be good for me.” The slight scolding only made her hotter. Something about the tone, something about Harry having complete and utter control over her body in this way had her panting. 

“Sorry, m’sorry.” She simpered, spreading her legs further on his lap. Her hot cunt needed some relief, desperately. Her clit rubbing against him and the fabric of her now useless panties had her mewling, his mouth sucking harder on her nipple, hungry for it. “It feels so good, I can’t think.” Her words came out almost as a cry. She was obsessed with this feeling, albeit a tad overwhelming. 

Pulling away fro her nipple with a soft pop, Harry licked over his shiny lips before cooing at her. “Who said you need to think, baby?” He stroked her hair, tangling his fingers in it and firmly tugging her head where he wanted it. “My silly girl. Just let me do the thinking. All you’ve got to do is focus on warming my cock so I can keep you nice n’warm too, yeah? Let me take over a little bit.” His tone was intoxicating, the cadence of his speech placing her under a spell. She wanted this, she wanted him to do this for them. “Good. S’time for these to come off. Want to take a peek at that pussy.” He playfully smacked her ass, motioning for her to stand on her shaky legs and let him tug her leggings down. 

“What have you done, sweetness?” He crooned, looking at her panties. “Messy little thing, you’ve soaked right through them.” Nimble fingers rubbed over the gusset of her panties, the warm, wet fabric doing nothing to hide her cunt. The soft pink had gone transparent and sticky, making his cock jerk in his sweats. God, she was exquisite. A complete angel. How had he managed to keep his hands off of her? “Love that you got this sticky for me, baby. Y’like me that much?” 

It was almost humiliating, the burn in her cheeks making her hot but… she liked it. She liked how he was talking to her, sweet but a tiny hint of condescending to it. It wasn’t something she knew she liked until this moment- perhaps it was something she just liked with Harry. But she shivered at the feeling of his warm fingers finding her pearled clit under the fabric, rubbing lightly over it. “I do.” She whispered. “Like you a l-lot.” Her words stuttered when he pressed his thumb over her, wiggling it back and forth. It was slightly humiliating, standing in just her wrecked panties in front of the man, but the shame licked into flames of arousal as he pulled her in and peppered kisses to her stomach. Soft, sensual ones that left a print of his saliva there before he pulled back to tug the silly waste of fabric down her legs. They were tossed to the side, Harry switching positions to have her sit on the couch. 

“Good. Like you too, sweet girl. Felt so guilty, cumming all over my fist while imagining you. That perfect mouth and these pretty thighs…” He hissed, running his hands over them as he got on his knees in front of her. “But part of me didn’t care. Thought I was fantasizing about someone else’s woman, but it was you. So I did it anyway.” His lips found her sensitive inner thighs, kissing tenderly as he spread her open. “It’s a shame we wasted so much time, but m’not wasting another second. 

He didn’t. A gasp tore from her mouth as he licked up her slit, tasting the sweetness he had been deprived of. Something started to unfurl inside of him, settling further as he hooked his hands under her knees and urged them to stay spread as his arms moved to their place. His fands looped around, placing one hand on the mound above her cunt, eyes peering up at her as he took his time. Languid, long licks as he cleaned her up. She had made a mess of herself, and he was taking care of it. Of course he was. He had wanted to do this for months, now. Spreading her open and tasting her right from the source. 

It was like he fed off of her sounds. The tiny bucks of her hips that he quickly eased by holding her down slightly, only making her more wet. He was taking mental note of the things that she liked, and being controlled was one of them. He’d never have guessed, but he was having a beautiful time figuring it all out. His cock was throbbing, in need of relief, but he ignored it in favor of her pleasure. Pulling up momentarily, he kept their eyes locked as he let a line of split dribble from his lips to her cunt, stringing over it before he lowered his angled hand and gave her clit a few taps. 

“Fuck.” Y/N whimpered. “You’re too good at this. Gonna make me cum.” She was a mess, but Harry wasn’t going to give her that. Not yet, anyways. 

“No, sweetness. You’re going to cum around my cock. M’just getting you warmed up.. Although you didn’t seem to need it.” He slipped his finger inside of her after releasing a thigh to rest it on his shoulder. “Nice and wet for me already. I’m just being selfish. Wanted to taste you for ages.” His crush had been there for longer, he supposed. It had grown slowly over time, blossoming into what it was now. 

He was torturing her, she was sure of it. His finger, thicker than her own, curling slightly as his mouth attached to her clit, suckling on the swollen bud. How could she hold back from orgasm when it felt this good? She was getting closer and closer with each pull into his mouth, the wet, sounds of sucking filling the air and her hands clenching around his hair, pulling him further into her cunt. His nose brushed up against her and little she could do but take it, he continued on it, working her until her thighs began to shake and the pleasure began to boil in her tummy, almost- until he stopped. Cooing at her as she began to whine, squirming in his hold and almost tearing up at her orgasm that she had been robbed of until he rose up and shut her up with a kiss. 

“Told you what I wanted. Don’t pout, as pretty as it is. I’m gonna make you cum, baby.” He brushed their noses together before he walked over to his side table and opened the drawer. One day later she’d ask him about why he had a stash of condoms in there, but for now her eyes were far too focused on the obvious outline of his prick through the sweatpants. Nearly gagging for it, she felt, she peeped up at him as he stood back in front of her. “Normally I’d ask how you’d want it, but since you’re a bit thoughtless today, m’gonna choose. Lay back.” He pointed her in the direction of where he wanted her to lay. 

“Don’t- don’t you want me to suck you?” Her voice sounded much needier than she had wanted, but he was endeared. His sweetness was obviously wanting to, looking at him as he palmed over himself and shook his head. 

“Not today. I’ll bust right inside that mouth. As much as I want to, and I will have it later… Not now. Want to feel you wrapped around me when I cum.” Slipping down his sweats, Y/N watched as his cock bobbed up and the pulsing between her thighs intensified. He was big, thick, and wet. The tip ruddy, dark pink and weeping with precum and a prominent vein extending over the side, trimmed hair around the base up to the little line of hair that went over his stomach- yes, she had never seen a cock as appealing before, and she was feeling hot over it. He apparently noticed too, a smirk on his lips and dimple extended. “No. You’ll taste it later, but I need to be inside of you.” He liked licking her out a bit too much. 

Y/N blinked up at him, nodding her head as she swallowed thickly. Settling between her thighs again, this time on his knees, she watched as he slipped the condom on before taking his other hand and cupped her cheek. He softened his gaze, looking over her face before speaking. “Need you to tell me if you want to stop. Any time, any reason and we can be done and go back to cuddling. I like you for far more than your body, sweetness.” He sighed. “Want this to be good for you. Want you to use your pretty mouth and talk t’me so I know how you feel. Don’t hold back.” He was a homeowner and the walls were thick, so it didn’t matter. No one could hear them past the roaring winds outside. The snow itself was silent, his silent savior for making Y/N stuck with him. “Get me, baby? Words.” 

“Yes, I’ll tell you. I want it, I promise.” She whispered. “Think I’ll like anything you do for me. I know I’m safe with you.” And she was. Harry had always been a good friend and she would trust him with her life even beforehand, so handing her body over to his tender care didn’t seem half as scary as it may with someone else. Nerve wracking only because there were feelings there- real feelings they both admitted were felt. 

“That’s my girl.” He smiled, brushing the tip against her cunt. “Gonna push in now.” He paused for a moment, leaning over to give her a kiss before righting himself on his knees and giving her what they both wanted. Fuck, was it good. 

Y/N had never felt so full in her life. Her fingers curled around his wrists as he held her legs up, her stomaching jumping as she panted, Harry filled her up so well she could cry. So deep, so perfectly curved like his dick had been made for her, she dug her nails into him as she let out cries of pleasure. 

“That’s what I wanted, baby. Let me hear you.” He crooned, feeling sweat begin to bead on his brow. Working his cock into her, he listened to the sounds of their sex, how wet she had gotten solely for him, and he was happy. God, he was fucking happy. Not only was he inside of her, but her feelings mirrored his own. She wasn’t taken- but she would be now. 

“I feel so good.” She said up to him. “I’m so full and you’re so deep, I don’t know.. How does it feel so good?” It was evident her head was a bit in the clouds, but he was there to take care of her. “Stretching me… Don’t stop.” She babbled, closing her eyes as he hit exactly where she needed.

He continued, watching as her cunt spread open for him. Taking him deep, he was enamored with the sight of her wetness all over his cock, wishing he could ditch the latex covering his shaft. All he wanted was to leave traces of her on his skin, leave her smell and taste. This was only the beginning of their relationship, the very prologue, and he couldn’t get enough of her. “M’not gonna stop, sweet girl. You feel too good.” He exhaled. “S’only our first time. Gonna keep fucking you until you can’t take it.” It was serious. He’d held himself back from her for months now, and it was nearly christmas. “My girl… You take it so well, hm? Think you were meant to take my cock.” 

“I was- I am.” She replied, blinking up at him blearily. “Nothing has ever felt so g-good. Want it all the time. Please, I don’t want to feel empty.” Her eyes watered a bit, making his cock twitch as he cooed down at her. Something about it was so erotic to him, watching her cry for his cock. For him. She needed it, needed him and he was the only one that could provide the very thing she needed. He was the only thing she could crave and he would make sure of that. 

“Oh, sweetheart. So gorgeous… M’not gonna let you stay empty.” He cooed. “No, I like far too much. Want to be tucked as deep in you, as long as I can. You promised to keep my cock warm, yeah?” He wiped away a tear, bringing it off her face. “I’ll keep you warm too.” And he was. Y/N was beginning to get sticky with sweat. Feeling her hair start to stick to the nape of her neck from the room finally feeling the effects of the fire, or his movements and pleasure, she didn’t know the origin. She was almost hot, but that was welcomed. The storm going on outside, snow was coming down hard, but she was nice and warm with Harry. 

Y/N felt a bit speechless. This was not how she had anticipated her night going in the slightest, but she loved every second of it. Each thrust of his cock filling her up led her closer to her orgasm, knowing she was sticky with arousal and sopping wet on his cock, and he took it in stride. Lowering his hand down to thumb over her clit, soft grunts leaving him as he fucked her. It wasn’t too rough, wasn’t too kinky, but it was perfect. He was treating her with the care she needed. Looking at her with visible fondness, only teasing her a bit, it was evident that he cared about her and that only brought her closer. 

“M’gonna cum.” She whispered. “I’m gonna- I’m so close. Please let me- I was good.” Part of her worried about him deciding he wanted her to hold it again, depriving her of the pleasure, but he didn’t. He kept his thrusts the same, rubbing her clit a bit faster as he continued. 

“Go ahead, my sweet thing. Make a mess on my cock. Cum for me.” She had already dripped all over him, even some towards his thighs, but he wanted more. He craved the mess only she could give him, the wet slap of skin and her puffy pussy contracting around his length. She had been so close on his finger, so he knew she was reaching it from how she squeezed him, but it was almost too good. He was a goner, watching as she arched her back and let out a broken moan, trembling yet again before her mouth dropped open and she came on him. He could feel it, her cunt squeezing him and her body tightening up as it hit her. Pulsing around him as he continued his thrusts inside of her, the delicious heat nearly making him lose his damn mind.  

“Shit…” He hissed, feeling his own start to hit him. “Fuck, baby… fuck.” His voice turned slightly whiny as he held tight onto her leg, his thumb pausing on her clit as the first rope of cum spilled into the condom. Her contracting, hot cunt, her teary eyes, her swollen mouth, all of it was so beautiful that he couldn’t stand it. This was a long time coming, of course, but to actually have her on him, to feel her body react to his touch, to see her cum solely because of him? It was otherworldly. He doubted he’d felt this strongly about an orgasm before, jerking his hips as deep groans left him, imagining there was no barrier in between them as he filled the condom. He knew it was going to overflow, but he didn’t care at this moment. 

All he cared about was lowering himself on top of her and kissing her senseless, holding her face like it was a precious stone. Recovering from this orgasm and kissing her, the giddy feeling never went away.  It stayed as he checked on her, kissing her cheeks and her nose, wiping the hair that was stuck to her face away and murmuring praises to her. “S’my girl. Not going to let you go.” He loved this feeling. “You’re perfect. Can’t believe it took us so long, but now that I’ve got you… M’not letting go.” It was sappy, maybe, but he was finally getting what he wanted. Something he thought he’d lost the chance to have. 

“Don’t want you to let go.” She sniffled, taking his face in her smaller hands once she caught her breath, pressing their lips together again before letting him rest his forehead against her own. “That was perfect. I can’t believe it either…” She stroked his hair back, the slight dampness from sweat not bothering her at all. “Does this mean I’m yours?” It felt a little embarrassing to ask, but she wanted to be clear. 

“Mhm. And I’m yours. No more games. Don’t give a shit what any of our friends have to say… M’pissed I was kept away so long, but I’m not going to do it now. I wasted so much time…” He gave a bittersweet smile. “Been dying to make you mine.” 

“Well…. Merry Christmas.” She giggled, eyes light and bright. Happiness illuminated her features and it nearly stopped his heart. Y/N was so beautiful that it almost hurt. And now she was his. He took her in as the multicolor lights from his tree flashed over the side of her face, heart completely filled with affection. “I’m your gift. No refunds or exchanges.”  He laughed, not able to help himself from taking another kiss. “Best gift I’ve ever received.”

For a possible smutty gravity blurb: maybe something they haven’t tried before?? Like maybe flower watches one of his streams or something and he’s talking abt some type of kink/situation they’ve never done before and she gets all nervous bc she wants to do that but she’s kinda insecure bc why is he talking about it on stream but not to me??? And so maybe there’s a wholesome communication moment butttttt they end up doing that thing:) idk just a thought hehehehe

cw: anal play involved!! if that makes you uncomfortable please skip :)

wordcount: 10.2k+

—————

The end of autumn chill swirled around (Y/N) in a fluttering gust, the ends of her hair being lifted along the sweeping breeze. Her nose felt chilled, among the elements, any bare swatch of skin prickled with goosebumps. Despite her hand being exposed to the elements, she didn't notice much of that cold with the way Harry had it wrapped in his own. Walking her out to her car, he swung their hands between them in a juvenile show of affection. Since he started, she hadn't been able to wipe the smile from her face. 

Looking up at him, seeing the tip of his own nose flushed with a chill to match that of his cheeks, her grin widened. He still had his glasses on from class, a heavy cardigan on his torso with his curls still a bit loose from his morning shower. 

"What?" he asked, glancing down at her with a wide smile, his dimples and bunny-like front teeth on display. 

"Nothing, just looking," she muttered through the curl of her lips, "You're working tonight, right?" 

"I am, yeah," he sighed, "Sorry." 

Creases pulled her brows into a furrow. "Why are you sorry? It's your job, don't be sorry." 

"I know," he drawled, the same way he always did when she had to remind him that there was no reason for guilt tied to his line of work. "But, I was wanting to spend time with you tonight instead." 

Bumping his shoulder, her gentle scolding tone melted, "You know, I could still come over." 

A shy flush bubbled to the surface of his cheeks, painting him a deeper shade of red than the wind could accomplish. "You'd distract me too much." 

"I think we could still get through," she teased, her voice lilting as she bumped her hip against his once more. 

"Maybe, another time, flower," he murmured, looking down at her with an expression she figured was better suited to the man on camera and not the physics tutor he was during the day. 

"Another time, then," she agreed, pushing back the sudden need to squirm as his eyes traced down her form. 

Approaching the parking lot, her car in the lucky space close to the building, (Y/N) pretended as if she didn't cut her pace to make slower strides. She wanted an extra couple of seconds with him, even if it meant walking like the people she complained about on campus between classes. 

"Did y'still want me to call you before bed?" 

"Yes, please," (Y/N) answered, "If you're not too tired, anyway." 

"Never too tired for you, love." 

Thinking back to the first days of knowing Harry, remembering the way he struggled to meet her eyes or would flush immediately when she said something as simple as his name, it was hard to compare him to the version that stood before her now. Openly flirting with her and agreeing to another time where she could sit in on one of his cam sessions and distract him for fun. It was no wonder she had never seen the obvious signs tying the camboy on her computer to her physics tutor. 

"Get home safe, yeah?" he murmured to her, stopping at the bonnet of her car. Using his hold on her hand he turned her to face him. 

"I'll text you," she smiled up at him, rising to her tiptoes for a moment to press her lips to his in a small kiss.

Harry chased after her, unwilling to let the kiss end just yet. He won his reward of an extra peck before she started pulling away. He'd been late to his afternoon classes one too many times after walking her back to her car, claiming he just wanted to make sure she made it there alright when they really ended up spending time kissing until his cheeks were flushed. 

"Go to class," she reprimanded him, drifting away from him towards her car. 

Keeping his hand clasped in hers, Harry elongated that contact until he couldn't anymore, his fingertips grazing hers before they dropped to his side. "Love you." 

"Love you, too, H. I'll see you tomorrow." 

A toothy grin spread across his cheeks as he looked at her, his eyes impossibly behind the lens of his glasses. "See you tomorrow.

She gave him a tinkling wave as she stepped into her car. He would stay there until he saw her pull out of the lot, keeping to his promise of ensuring she started her journey home safely (he knew too many statistics about driving accidents to freely let her go without being there in case of emergency, he'd said). But, even as she pulled out of the lot into the main road, she could see him in her rearview mirror, standing with his hands on the straps of his backpack, wide grin on his mouth. 

There was the tutor version of him again; the one that was soft and smiley, shy and wrapped in sweaters. She was going to have to tune into his stream tonight to get the other side of him.

—————

While tuning into Harry's shows were something that she always found fulfilling, there was something especially satisfying now that she knew who he was and knew him as more than just a faceless crooner. Though, she could admit, she still felt a bit shy when she logged in. 

However, it didn't take her long to sink into the night session when she tuned in after putting away her study materials for the night. Checking the time, she knew Harry would be in the middle of his stream then, the temptation too much to ignore before she was logged in and watching him as he cooed and moaned for the camera. 

By the time his screen was pulled up for her, his tip meter was already full and over the edge, his shirt off and his hand wrapped around his cock though his boxers were still on. She knew this routine—it was one of her favorites, anyway; he was in the mood to tease the audience tonight. He was going to coax them into begging for him, asking for more of daddy before he would be so inclined to give it. His chest was flushed a warm red, complimenting the black tattoos inked on his skin. Blocks of muscle were bunching and straining, his abs shining with a layer of sweat. The camera had almost everything in view, going as high up as to capture the line of his throat before cutting off at his jaw.

Plugging her headphones into her ears, she heard the labored sound of his breathing, the rich gravel of his town heavy on his tongue, and the slick sound of his fist passing over his length. 

She had her hands on her keyboard, reading to type something out for him to test if he had his eyes on the chat, but she stopped short when he resumed talking. He was detailing out a fantasy for them, one she had never heard fall from his lips before. 

"Would you like that, baby?" he asked, words drawling and dripping out of his mouth, "You'd let me try with you? You'd let me play with your cute little ass?" 

Just out of view of the camera, he threw his head back, his breathing labored. She could see the stretch of his neck, flushed with his Adam's apple bobbing. His hand on his cock quickened, his fist slapping against his skin. 

"You'd let me do that?" he continued, his voice completely breathless with his chest heaving, "Let me fuck you from the back and see where else you could take me? Play with you a little?" 

With a fluttering blink, (Y/N) couldn't take her eyes off of what her Harry was doing on screen. Though he'd never brought it up to her before, it didn't take much for her to picture what he was offering for the audience. 

She could be on her hands and knees for him, Harry kneeling behind her with his thighs smacking against the back of her own as his cock sank in and out of her pussy. Her heart was in her throat when she pictured him spreading her cheeks apart and thumbing at the second entrance he was speaking up, the second place she could "take" him like he said. 

Is that something he wanted? He wanted to play with her, see what else he could mold her body into doing for him, see what reactions he could garner from her? 

"You'd love it, sweetheart, I promise. I'd be so gentle, so gentle," he rambled, his voice sounding airy and lost the longer he sat with his fantasies. "I can put in a couple of fingers, show you how good it feels. I think I could make you cum like that. You want that?" 

Her designated nickname pricked her ears. He didn't even know she was tuning into the show yet, having been frozen since he started speaking with no comments in her name being sent through the chat yet. He was thinking of her?

The idea made her thighs tense, her stomach squeezing into a tight knot. 

There had never been a time in her life that she had considered allowing anyone to feel around anywhere other than her pussy, but the thought of Harry wanting to feel and touch her everywhere plucked at something in her. Leave it to him to make even the most unappealing of things into something she could see herself wanting. 

"Fuck you everywhere, sweetheart, that's what I want" he groaned, the pace of his hand on his cock causing the band of his underwear to slip low enough to show off his length. "Gonna cum jus' thinking about it." 

Sucking in a deep breath, (Y/N) listened to his breathing hitch and shudder, changing to match the heavy pace of his hand on his cock. He really was going to cum, that much she could tell. His abs were tight, skin flushed, and the base of his cock tight from the sliver of skin she could catch on screen. 

"C'mon, sweetheart, tell me you'd let me try with you. Let me have more of you."

 His chat was flooded with responses, going way too fast for (Y/N) to even attempt to concentrate on. She could imagine it was filled with the confirmations that he wanted, dirty promises that any of these audience members would spread open for him at any given moment. His tip meter had well exceeded the goal amount, the donations and tiny messages attached seemingly only urging him on. 

All (Y/N) could give her attention to was the amount of times he uttered her nickname, asking her if she'd let him try his fantasy with her. That he promised that he would make it good for his sweetheart, that he'd be as gentle as he could be when sinking his fingers in and fucking her everywhere he could reach. 

She felt as if she were out of her body, watching as he plucked down the band of his boxers. His heavy cock bounced up against his stomach before he caught it in his slick fist. His length was wet and flushed, precum pooling on the tip and dripping down his shaft. She was sure her mouth had dropped into a gape. This fantasy had elicited that kind of reaction from him. Her tummy tightened at the thought.

Though she was aware he was talking, spinning a story for his viewers to be entranced with, (Y/N)'s own head was spiraling around her own story. 

Would he help hold her hips up when she couldn't anymore? She already felt full enough with his cock inside her, how much more would she feel with him like that? With his stamina, how long would he have her buried against the mattress, opened up just for him? 

Before she could even be aware of the moment, she heard a familiar gasp in her headphones. Her eyes refocused on the screen, Harry's cock spurting with ropes of cum. Strings decorated his chest, slicking over his tattoos in milky pearls. He groaned, chest heaving with blushing skin. His throat was bobbing, the skin stretched with the very ends of his hair visible on the edge of the screen. She could picture his eyes closed, lavender eyelids fluttering with dark lashes. His mouth would be set into a gape, a pinch between his brows.

One of these days, she was going to end up going to his apartment after one of his streams. It wasn't fair that he was able to perform like that and she wasn't in his bed at the end of the night. 

Harry recovered soon enough, cleaning off his chest and giving his signature send off for the night. 

(Y/N) was still far from joining him in that headspace even when the screen blacked out, his page settling for the night. Her brain was still where he was describing his fantasy, where she could picture herself on all fours for him. 

Replacing her laptop lid and sliding the device away, she rolled onto her back in the folds of her comforter. Staring up at the ceiling, she attempted to gather her bearings. 

Now that more of the lust and the initial intrigue began to wane, she was left with a question. 

Why wouldn't he tell her about this? Obviously, he had quite the feelings towards this fantasy, given the fact he was so worked up, cumming before she even really had a chance to catch up. Why was his first choice to share this with strangers on his stream as opposed to telling her?

To be fair, it was a rather intimate dream, even more than what they usually did with one another. But, considering the details of their relationship—her being an avid viewer of his before knowing his identity, Harry being an active cam-personality, as well as the time they sexted with one another before even knowing who they were—there were very blurry lines when it came to what could be "too much". 

She hoped she had shown that she would be open to trying anything for him, just the same way he is with her. 

Their phone call tonight would be interesting.

—————

"Hi, flower."

Snuggled in her duvet, (Y/N) relaxed into the mattress at the sound of his voice. "Hi, H. What are you doing?" 

"About to fall asleep," he shared, his voice decidedly deeper than usual, "What about you, love? Y'get all your studying done?"

"Mhm," she hummed, casting her mind back to the hours before she tuned into his stream. They didn't seem so important compared to everything that happened after she slid her textbooks out of the way. Harry didn't even know yet that she had been present during the show, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to tell him. A part of her wanted to wait and see if he would broach the subject of everything without her having to bring it up. "How was your show?" 

"Short," he laughed, the sound a warm vibrato, "I got too worked up and barely made it through a half an hour." 

"Yeah?" she prodded, hoping to open up the conversation for him, "What happened?" 

"Jus' m'imagination running a little too wild," he sighed, paraphrasing everything she had already heard through her headphones, "Thought about you a little too much, of course." 

The timber of his voice fell as he spoke his last statement, enticing her through the phone as if that was a hard task for him to pull off. His voice was what paid half of his bills anyway—his body handled the other fifty percent. 

(Y/N) felt a tad on the breathless side when she spoke next, settling back into the way she had integrated herself into his story; she could still see herself on her hands and knees, spread open for him with whines falling from her lips. "What do you mean?" 

"You know what I mean, sweetheart," he drawled, the smug smile on his lips audible through the phone, "You've seen the shows; you know what I think about when it comes to you." 

It was hard not to get wrapped up in his words. Even with the small plan she had in her back pocket, this being her attempt to gather more information about the fantasy she shared with strangers on the internet, it was all too easy to fall into that soft, velvet coated space with him where his words were like silk and honey dripping over her skin. He knew exactly how to talk to her. 

"Yeah," she swallowed, closing her eyes with her cheek mushed against her pillow, "But, was something different about today?" 

Harry hummed as if he were considering her question. This would be the moment, she figured. This would be when he'd bring up the fact that he wanted to try something new with her, lay her out on his bed and take her in every way he could. 

"I jus' think I miss you, that's all," he told her, deflating that anticipation ballooning in her chest. "I feel like 's been a while since I've had you all to myself, don't you think?" 

Truthfully, they spent the entire weekend at his apartment, studying and working on papers in-between cuddles on the couch and romps in his bedroom. 

"I think, we had all weekend together," (Y/N) laughed, teasing him some as if she still wasn't itching for alone time with him. 

"I guess we did, huh," Harry joined in, "Jus' not enough for me then, I guess. You've spoiled me, now I'm always going to want more." 

That declaration pinged in the back of her mind. He wanted more, that's what he's said in the stream. He wanted more of what she had to give him. 

"I can do that," she answered instinctively, her voice a bit breathy over the line. 

"Yeah? Gonna keep spoiling me?" he teased, his demeanor decidedly much more light-hearted compared to the creeping in of lust into her tone. 

"I'll try." She'd try to be everything he wanted, she decided. She was going to be the place he indulged and shared those intimate stories with, not the internet. 

A soft sigh sounded on the other line. "Y'always do, flower," he crooned before a yawn cut him off, "'M about to fall asleep, love, 'm sorry." 

"Don't be sorry," she rushed out, feeling guilty now that she's trying to extract information from him when he started the call telling her just how sleepy he was, "Go to sleep and I'll see you tomorrow, right." 

"See you tomorrow," he confirmed, his voice heavy and dripping, "Love you." 

"Love you, too, H. Goodnight." 

Harry shared a final goodnight with her before the call ended with (Y/N) left in her lonely bedsheets and the new facet of him she learned today. 

Her eyes shuttered to a close as she sunk into the silence of her bedroom. She hadn't been lying when she said that she would try to do that—be that—for him. Why he didn't tell her in the first place, wasn't something she could dwell on at the moment. She needed to focus on plucking up the courage to do what she promised. 

—————

"I'm still coming over tonight, right?" 

Harry's smile bloomed over his lips, dimples deep in his cheeks. "Of course," he murmured, dipping his head down through the open window of her car to press a kiss to the apple of her cheek, "Should jus' live there, if you ask me." 

(Y/N)'s own lips were curled into a soft smile as she looked up at him. This wasn't the first time nor would it be the last time she heard of this want of his. "We'll see," she settled, "Let me know when you're back then I'll head over." 

"I will," he smiled, pressing another delicate kiss to her mouth before pulling away. "I love you." 

"I love you, too," she cooed, "I'll let you know when I make it home." 

He murmured a small thank you against her skin before pulling away. He waved a goodbye at her as he stepped back from her car, giving space for her to pull out of the parking lot. 

Flicking her gaze to the rearview mirror, Harry nothing more than a cardigan covered figure that grew blurrier and blurrier until she took the turn to leave him out of her sight, (Y/N) could feel her heart rate spike. 

She had a plan. The idea of setting it in motion elicited that nervous excitement in her. All she wanted was for it to go along without a hitch, and spend a special night with Harry. 

When she laced this whole thing together the night before, she decided that when she went over that night, she wouldn't even really address what she had heard him say in the stream. She would initiate everything, pushing a little bit for the taboo idea he had shared, telling him that she wanted to try something new with him. She would tell him that she wanted to give more of herself to him. 

It wouldn't take too much convincing, she figured. She already knew he had quite the affinity towards the idea of trying out both of her entrances. All she had to do was frame it with all the confidence she could muster. 

And, maybe a cute set of lingerie she had bought with him in mind. 

—————

The soft sound of lips parting and coming together once more filled Harry's apartment, the television screen a plain black as (Y/N) didn't want to waste time playing pretend with a movie night or watching an episode of their show. Instead, she didn't take much time before she was climbing atop his lap on the couch, her thighs astride his hips and Harry's hands on her waist.

"Sweetheart," he sighed into her mouth, his grip on her waist tightening as if she would slip away without him, "I've missed you." 

(Y/N)’s own hands cradling his jaw, thumbing at the planes of his cheeks. Tipping her head in an effort to deepen the kiss, her tongue sweeping across his own, her nose the side of his own. "I missed you too, daddy." 

She could feel the way his title affected him, his cock hard and heavy against her own core. He used his hold on her as leverage to help grind her down against him, (Y/N) practically able to feel the ridge of his head and the pulse of his heart through the thin fabric of her shorts. His grey sweats left little to the imagination. 

"Say it again." 

Moaning into his mouth, a crease knitted her brows the further she sunk into the moment. This was her chance, she was vaguely aware of. She was so ready for him, she lacked those nerves that came with vulnerability and she doubted Harry would be self-conscious enough to deny any indulgence into his fantasies. 

"Daddy," she moaned, leaning into him that much more. 

Snaking a hand down his form, (Y/N) followed the line of his shoulder down to his forearm. She reached to grab at his wrist before guiding his hand down lower on her body. Harry pliantly let her move him until they reached the full of her ass, the plush skin denting under Harry's fingertips. She pressed back against him, encouraging him to grab and play with her just like he said he wanted. 

Harry was all but melting between her thighs. His kissing was growing lax and heavy, his tongue playing with her own in languid strokes. His heartbeat was racing but there was no urgency in the way he handled her. He luxuriated in every touch, every stroke, every grab. 

It didn't take long for him to bring his other hand down to match the first, gripping her bottom in the span of his palms. Her skin felt flush everywhere he touched her, making it easy for her to push back against his hands and urge him to take the more he had been searching for. 

"What's gotten into you?" he murmured, his voice heavy and watered down through the interrupting kisses. "Not that I don't like it, but you're being different, sweetheart." 

To his credit, she was definitely going out of her way and initiating more, asking for more, doing more than she ever had before. She was always perfectly content with Harry calling the shots and sinking into that persona he felt comfortable in when it came to the bedroom. While she wasn't planning on taking that power from him tonight, she still had an end goal in mind that she was willing to guide him into meeting her at. 

"Sorry," she answered, taking her lips to the corner of his mouth as they caught their breath, "I can stop. I just didn't realize how much I missed you, that's all." 

"No, no, don't slow down," he urged her, pulling her flush against him with his hands on her ass, "Jus' want you to talk to me. What do you want? What do you want daddy to give you?" 

Traveling down his neck, her lips never left his skin as she dragged a string of kisses over the slope of his throat. "I want to try something new," she whispered, hiding in his neck as she spoke. 

"New?" he clarified, his voice vibrating through his throat, "What do you mean, hm?" 

Was there a pretty way to phrase what she was going to ask for? (Y/N) wasn't sure, but she was going to try her best. As lusty as she was, she still was a little too shy for the more vulgar of phrases.

Instead, she pressed her bottom back against his palms, the ridges of his palms and the digits of his fingers could be felt through her sleepover shorts. "I want more of this," she told him, nose skimming his hairline with her eyes shuttered closed. "Inside." 

All at once, clarity seemed to move into Harry. 

Shifting his hold on her, one palm returned to the curve of her waist and the other landed on the back of her neck. He drew her away from her hiding place, forcing her to meet his gaze. 

The lush green of his eyes had been depleted into something dark and foresty, a thin ring around a dilated pupil. 

Fluttering her eyes in a blink, she dropped her gaze down to the swollen pillows of his lips. "Why'd you stop?" 

A lopsided curve tugged at the corner of his lips. His hand on the back of her neck shifted until he was cradling her jaw in his palm, thumbing at dip under her chin. "Wanted to talk to you for a second, that's all." 

Her heartbeat sped up in her chest, though no longer because of the lust she had feathering through her veins. "About what?" 

Amusement flickered through his gaze. "About what y'jus' said to me." 

Underneath her, Harry looked every bit the boy she had met in her physics course, the one that was too shy to meet her eyes and overly apologetic any time he had to scoot past her. He was the one that had tutored her through the toughest lectures and exams, willing to take his time and teach her things she wouldn’t have understood without him. She remembered him with flushed cheeks and chunky glasses, always warm under a heavy cardigan and a shy smile. 

But, he wasn't acting like that boy. He was acting like the performer he was on screen. He was coaxing and teasing her, easing her into spilling her guts and cumming for him the second he requested as much. It wasn't fair; he was too cute, making her feel so safe to let go and be whatever she wanted to be, but entirely too hot to let her hand a clear head. 

When she didn't answer, the cam performer continued, "Y'said y'wanted more of this, right?" He emphasized his question with the hand on her waist sliding down until he was warming the curve once more, fingers denting the soft flesh.

With a flutter of her lashes, (Y/N) gave a quiet nod of her head. 

Harry hummed at her nonverbal answer. He tipped his chin and pressed a small kiss to her lips. It was a distraction as he led both his hands to sit on her bottom. This time, he made a point of sliding them under the hem of her shorts, skin to skin. 

"What did y'mean by inside, flower?" 

(Y/N) bought herself time by pressing another lingering kiss to his lips. There was that bashfulness rearing its head once more. She would have to tap into his confidence if he wanted her to be blunt. 

"You know," she murmured as if that were a real answer. 

"Do I?" he prodded, smiling into their kiss, "Because I think it sounds like y'want me to play with your cute little ass. Is that right?" 

Her chest expanded with a shuddering breath. "Uh-huh." 

Buttoning his mouth against hers one more time, he shared a quick kiss with her before pulling away. His pupils were still dilated and warm, but something was decidedly softer when his gaze met hers. 

"Is that why y'seem so nervous, right now?" 

(Y/N) clammed up at his words. He wasn't supposed to be so observant. 

"I'm not nervous," she argued, her hands falling to the planes of his chest. 

"Yes, you are," he countered, just as sweet as he smiled up at her, "And that's okay. I jus' want to know where your heads at. I didn't know y'ever wanted something like this." 

She shrugged, dropping her eyes to where her hands rested on his chest. She could feel the hard muscle underneath the soft fabric of his top. "I only want to try it with you." 

"Yeah?" he said, sounding a little too cocky to be safe, "And why y'didn't y'tell me before?" 

Before she could think much better of it, the adrenaline and endorphins in her system doing their job, (Y/N) fired back, "Why didn't you tell me?" 

She watched as Harry's brows creased at her words. "What do you mean, love?" 

Floundering over her words, (Y/N) knew she couldn't stop here. She had already started, there was no way of stopping in the middle of it all. "I saw your stream the other night," she blurted out, getting it out of the way and off of her chest, "The one where you talked about this stuff." 

Realization dawned on him then. "I didn't know y'were listening to that one." 

"I was going to comment or say something so you knew I was there," she explained, "But I had come in halfway through and you were already talking, and I've just never heard you talk about wanting that before. I was... surprised."

"Bad surprised or good surprised?" 

"Good surprised," she admitted, peeking at him through her lashes, "But, a little bit bad surprised because I had to hear about it through a stream and not from you." 

Adjusting his hold on her, Harry held her with an arm looped around her middle with his other hand still warming her jaw. Hugging her to his chest, she had no choice but to look up at him and meet his eyes. "I wasn't trying to keep anything from you, you know." 

"I know," she reasoned, understanding that part of his job was that it was an outlet for some of the more vulnerable things he hadn't admitted aloud yet, "But it sounded like you were talking about me, and when we talked later you said you were thinking about me while you were streaming. If I hadn't been watching, though, I still wouldn't have known." 

He took in her every word, listening to what she had to say before speaking. "I don't want to push you too far, that's all. I like what we have—I like making love to you,"—the phrase always brought a smile to his face when he said it, especially when (Y/N) grew shy—"and I didn't want it to be any different."

Pursing her lips, (Y/N) attempted to understand what he was getting at. "So, you don't actually want to? It was just a stream thing?"  

"Oh, no," Harry stopped her, a huff of his laughter fanning across her skin, "I definitely want to, trust me. I want you to want it too, and not jus' because y'feel like it would make me happy." 

"I feel like we do a lot of things because we know it makes each other happy, though," she started, maneuvering her arms until they were looped around his neck with her fingers edging into his hairline on the nape of his neck, "I don't think that's a bad thing as long as we're both comfortable, right?" 

"You do watch scary movies with me," he smiled, drawing a small breath of laughter out of her lungs, "But this is a little different, don't you think? I don't want to do anything with your body that you're not one hundred percent excited for. 'M only happy if you are too." 

Rolling her lips between her teeth, she leaned into his hand on her jaw. "I am excited, though—I want to do this. I just wish you had told me first." 

"Me too," he smiled, "Promise I wasn't trying to hide anything from you, I was only trying not to scare you." 

"I know," she murmured, turning her face until she pressed her lips into a small kiss against his palm, "I'm not scared—you already promised you'd be gentle." 

His grin widened at her reference to his stream, surely remembering his own fantasy in detail now that she was offering it up. "I did, didn't I?"

 "Mhm," she hummed, using that hold she had around his neck to draw him nearer, "You said a lot of things." 

"And, you liked it." 

"I did," she confirmed, the tip of her nose grazing his, "You don't make it sound scary or gross, or anything?" 

"Yeah?" he laughed, tipping his chin until he could press a tiny peck to her lips, "How do I make it sound?" 

"Really hot," she admitted, "I forgot everything I studied about as soon as I started listening to you." 

Harry gave a disapproving hum, teasing her. Resting the pad of his thumb against the full of her lips, he kept her from kissing him again, leaving her to listen as he spoke. "We'll have to work on that again later then, won't we? Go to the library again for some motivation?" 

The reminder of the time they had gone to the library and Harry helped her through that mental block with his hand between her legs was enough to get her squirming in his lap once more. He had to know exactly where her mind had gone when she saw his grin stretch his dimpled cheeks. 

"But, I should probably take care of you now," he mused, finally slipping his thumb from her lips as he smeared a kiss across her pout. "Y'deserve it for being so patient and talking to me about what you want." 

"I do," she absently agreed, melting into him. She was willing to take whatever he would give. 

(Y/N) indulged in the pillow of his lips, parting her mouth and taking the taste of him across her tongue. It was easy to slip back into that place with him, where her thoughts were wisps and her desires were candles lit aflame. His cock was still heavy in his lap, right where her core was resting with spread thighs, his lips still swollen, and skin still warm. 

"I love you," he murmured on a breath, breaking away though he didn't stray too far from her with his forehead resting on hers, "Let's go to bed, sweetheart." 

She let out a dreamy okay, following after him once he had her settled on her feet, back towards his bedroom. They didn't bother to close the door behind them, in too much of a rush before Harry was roughly handling her to be tossed amongst the folds in his bedding. 

A bright peal of laughter fell from (Y/N)'s lips at the act, her eyes creasing and cheeks split wide. Harry climbed his bed with a matching smile, hovering over her. 

"So pretty, you know that," he crooned, dropping a kiss on the apple of her cheek before he began his own pathway across her skin. He followed the soft planes of her face, grazing her eyelids and the bridge of her nose. (Y/N) couldn't help the soft breaths of laughter that followed the more affection he piled on her. 

"You're pretty," she answered through her smile, placing her hands on his cheeks to keep him from straying too far once he finally rested on her lips. 

A sly smile on his mouth kept her from getting a real kiss from him. He was bubbling up with something, she was sure. 

"I know," he teased, "You think 'm pretty enough to play with your cute butt, so." 

"Don't say it like that," she whined though her complaint held no grit through her toothy smile. She made a halfhearted attempt at pushing him away, though Harry stayed right where he was above her. 

"Am I wrong? I seem to remember a certain conversation we had just a minute ago." 

She didn't bother to answer him, instead smushing her lips against his in a silencing kiss. It was a bit off center, not quite matching up with her nose smushed against his cheek, but that didn't matter much to either of them. Harry happily fell into the contact without a single complaint.

Soon enough the silly kiss had melted into something serious, warm and languid. He laid heavily between her legs, his cock straining against his sweats with her loose shorts doing little to cover herself. His chest was pressed against hers, heartbeats side by side with every breath marked by the extra push of his blocky muscles against her breasts. 

By the time her breath was taken from her lungs, Harry pulled away first. He skimmed his kiss-swollen lips over her skin until he was hovering by her ear. "Y'really want to try it out tonight?" 

It didn't take a second thought before she was nodding her head.

"We'll go slow, (Y/N)," he cemented, pulling away to match her eyes intensely, "Jus' tell me to stop if you change your mind." 

"I will," she answered, knowing he wouldn't move on until he had that verbal confirmation from her, 

He gave her a pleased smile before he dipped down and pressed another small kiss to her lips. "Flip over for me, sweetheart." 

The flames in her stomach pitched into a bonfire at his command. That had been exactly what she was picturing. Harry gave her space to roll onto her tummy, helping her move until she was on her knees with legs spread and cheek pressed against his pillow. 

"This alright?" he checked in, dragging his warm hands down the backs of her thighs. 

She nodded with a pleasant smile on her mouth. "This is how I pictured it," she murmured.

Harry's touch solidified at her words, less glancing fingertips and more weight on his palms as he caressed her skin and felt every inch of the plush fullness. "You pictured it?

Her ribcage practically rattled against her heartbeat as he started pulling down her shorts and panties. He helped her navigate pulling them off of her bent legs and ankles with the way her mind was too preoccupied. Why didn't she just show up naked? It would have made this so much easier. 

"Uh-huh," she breathed, answering his question, "I-I wasn't sure what you had in mind, but I hoped it was like this." 

Harry hummed, bending down to press a kiss to the small of her back. He pushed the hem of her loose shirt up, revealing more and more of her skin though they were both too in a rush to take the time to completely undress her. Soon enough, Harry's shirt joined her shorts and underwear on the floor, his sweats and boxing being all that clothed him for the moment. 

"I have lots of ideas, sweetheart," he murmured, starting a path of planted kisses on the hills of her spine. "We'll only get through a couple today, but if y'like it, we can try so much more." 

The promise that there was more he wanted to show her, more times that she would be wrapped in his sheets, more of him that she would accept without a doubt, was enough to get her pussy fluttering. 

Going down the line, Harry started kissing over the globes of her bottom, delicate sweeps of his lips over the sensitive skin. She couldn't help the goosebumps that touched her skin, unfamiliar with the feeling of anything other than his strong hands skimming this part of her. 

"Gonna eat you out first, okay, flower?" he crooned, his words fanning out across her skin, "We'll start there, and we'll see how you feel." 

"Okay, Harry," she sighed, trusting him from where she lay with her cheek squished into the pillow and eyes fluttering to a close. The only thing she didn't love about this position: she couldn't see him. 

A beat later, she could feel the warmth of his breath fan across her core. She tensed some at the surprise, feeling her insides squeeze knowing that he was that close. She only had enough time to register that exhale before the flat of his tongue was licking through her wetness. Her own breath was sucked out of her lungs at the first touch against her clit, her folds being spread wide open around the width of his tongue. 

Sagging towards the bed, she arched her back that much more for him, presenting any and everything for him. Harry wrapped his hands around her thighs, palms warming the tops while his fingers wrapped around to the side insides and dented the delicate skin. His grip was steadying as he pointed the tip of his tongue and explored her opening, her walls pulsing. 

An all too smug breath of laughter fell from his lips when he pulled away. "Feeling good, sweetheart? Tell me." 

"So good, H," she bubbled immediately, no other thoughts attempting to take over at the moment. 

"Who?" he pressed, his hands on her thighs tightening though he didn't dip back down to her pussy like she wanted. 

"So good, daddy," she corrected, all but keening into him, hoping she gave the right answer and would feel more of him sliding through her folds and tasting her wetness. 

"That's better, sweetheart," he praised her.

With that, Harry's tongue was once more slipping through her wetness. He smeared his tongue across her core, taking in everything she had to offer while leaving a mess behind, comprised of both her slick and his saliva. Wet sounds filtered through his bedroom, along with the heady breathing coming from her and the contented noises coming from Harry. 

By the time (Y/N) had her slick covering her thighs, enough wetness to make her worry she was going to start dripping over his bed (though, seeing as how he enjoyed making her squirt, she doubted he would have minded), Harry began focusing his tongue over her pulsing entrance. More and more slick wept from her hole as he pointed the tip and slipped inside amongst her tight walls. She shuddered at the feeling, her breathing hitching as she attempted to bring in a deep breath. 

Before she could even register that she was missing contact on her clit, his fingertips were pressing against the bud. Tight circles were drawn around the top of her slit, her legs beginning to shake now that there was so much moire to focus on but less room in her brain to spare. He kept his other hand steady on her thigh, keeping her from falling while simultaneously being her grounding anchor. 

Her wetness dipped down his fingers, tainting his palm with a thin glimmer. Harry pulled away for a heartbeat, his breathing heavy. She could imagine the shine on his chin and nose, the flush to his cheeks, and the way he would be staring at her with intensity in his eyes. She could feel that heated gaze as his fingers trailed through her messy slit. 

When he reached her hole, he lingered for only a second before he was skipping upwards. Though (Y/N) knew this was coming, she still felt her heart skip a beat, her breathing shatter as she waited with bated breath.

He brought his slick fingers to her second entrance. In an instant, (Y/N) felt herself tense up, the foreign feeling shocking her. 

"'S alright, flower," Harry crooned to her, his words fanning across the rounded globes of her ass, "Jus' relax. 'S only me, and 'm going to be gentle, remember?" 

"I remember, I remember," she muttered in a rambling blurt. Honestly, if she had been asked what exactly she was remembering at that moment, she wouldn't have been able to give a straight answer. 

Working her through that initial shock, Harry circled his slick fingers around the puckered skin, delving his tongue back into her pussy to give her something familiarly fantastic to cling to. Her legs took as she took in the duo of feelings, her clit being laved over by his tongue with a part of her she never thought could be stimulated now pulling the breath from her lungs.

"Still feeling good, love?" he asked, drawing away for just long enough to ask before he was licking through her folds once more. 

It didn't take a second thought before she was breathing out, "Uh-huh, uh-huh." 

There was nothing else for her to say—especially if she wanted to sound coherent. Though it was still odd, the feeling of his wandering fingers, every pass of his fingertips over the tight opening had a pulse ringing through her insides. The flames in her stomach were tight and warm, coiling into a burn. 

"I knew you'd like it, sweetheart," he mumbled against her pussy, "Told you I'd be gentle. Jus' wanna open you up a little for me to fit a finger in, is that okay?" 

(Y/N) felt her eyes squeeze to a shut, creases knitting her brows together. "It's okay," she breathlessly answered, half-parroting his words back to him as that was all she could process in the moment. 

A groan rumbled through Harry's chest, the sound vibrating over her core. "You want that? Want me to finger your tight little ass, love?" 

Until Harry, those words would have turned her off, had her curling in on herself and ending whatever encounter had gone south, but hearing the vulgar request in his dulcet tone, rounded with lust, had both her entrances pulsing around nothing. 

"Tell me you want it, sweetheart." 

"I want it, daddy," she breathed out, a short whine cutting her off when he thumbed at her slick rim, trying to spread her open just like he said, "Please." 

"You're doing so good, my love," he murmured, dropping a kiss to the sensitive crease just between her thigh and the slick spread of her core. "'M going to give you everything y'want. I jus' need you to relax." 

Bringing her bottom lip between her teeth, (Y/N) sagged towards the mattress. She thought she had been relaxed, easing into everything and welcoming his touch. "I-I'm trying," she whined, "I thought I was doing good." 

"You are, flower, I promise," he soothed her, another kiss to the slick skin, "Y'might be thinking about it too much, that's all. Y'need a distraction, don't you?" 

(Y/N) didn't want to be distracted from a single touch he gave her, if she was being honest. She wanted to feel everything, know where his hands were, and find what she liked most. But, she supposed she might be too aware of every graze of his fingers, her body instinctively tensing and moving. 

"I think you do, sweetheart," Harry continued when he didn't get a response. 

The bed shifted behind her then, his hand stilling on her backside before she could feel his hips pressing against her ass. His thighs were lined up against her own with his hard cock sliding through the wetness of her folds. 

A gasp fell from her lips, the tip of his heavy prick nudging her clit. She felt her insides pulse, including the already tight hole he was trying to work open. She keened back against him, slicking his shaft and the trimmed patch of hair at the base. 

Smug laughter sounded behind her, Harry sounding much too pleased with himself and the reaction he could garner from her. 

"Stay still for me, love," he instructed her, "'M gonna help you." 

The steadying hand he had placed on her hip disappeared then, instead fisting at his cock before he was nudging the head into her entrance. Slick with both his saliva and every weep of her wetness, he slid in with no problems, a wet slap sounding once he bottomed out. (Y/N) reveled in the familiar feeling of fullness, completely spread wide open for his cock to push through her tight walls. She could feel the ridge of his head, the length of his veins, the slight curve that aimed him perfectly at the soft spot on her walls. 

She would never be used to the depth he reached in her, remembering the way he had teased such a thing on a stream before they even knew one another. She had figured it was nothing more than fantasy talk back then, something to get his viewers going as well as feed into something Harry could cum to. Now, she knew that was all very much the truth, feeling the stretch in her own body as if he were nudging as deep as her stomach. 

"Better, sweetheart?" he muttered, rearing his hips back before thrusting forward. He kept her on balance with his hand returning to her hip. Slick noises erupted around his cock as he sunk in, his hips slapping against her thighs. 

The pads of his fingers circled her back entrance through his distraction, though her attention had trouble splitting between his heavy cock and the foreign touch. She could feel the way he did his best to gently spread her open, easing her into being able to take one of his thick fingers.

"B-Better, daddy," she cried, reaching blindly for this hand on her hip. She needed something gentle and familiar, she decided. 

Harry welcomed her innocent touch, lacing their fingers together over the full of her hip together though her hold was decidedly looser given the monumental distractions she was going through. 

"Good," he huffed, matching that of a particularly hard thrust he gave. 

In that same moment, (Y/N) could feel the tip of one of his fingers slide inside her untouched opening. She gasped, mouth dropping open into a gape. 

It was more startling than anything, the small intrusion causing her body to tense up. 

"No, don't do that, sweetheart," Harry gently scolded her, keeping the pacing of his hips as he fucked her pussy, "Stay relaxed for me. You're doing so good, no need to be scared." 

She wanted to listen to him, she really did, but she didn't know how to relax. All she could manage was closing her eyes, flexing her fingers around his own, and focusing on the familiar parts of his touch. She tried to right her breathing, fix the uneven shuddering and replace it with something steady and consistent. 

"That's so much better, sweetheart," he cooed, dropping down to press a kiss to her shoulder, "Keep going, love. 'S jus' me." 

While she didn't feel as if she were relaxing any considering how tightly wound her tummy was and the pulsing of her walls, she was happy to hear that she was easing up for him. Her efforts increased tenfold when that same slick finger pushed deeper inside of her, the knuckle of his digit catching before he could go further. 

(Y/N) couldn't have prepared for how full she felt with his cock running through her walls and the small intrusion of his finger in her backside. The pace of her breathing she had tried to curate, the even intakes and exhales, was thrown out the window the second she allowed herself to take in the full breadth of that feeling. 

She could feel him everywhere: the slap of his thighs against the back of her own, his hand in hers, his cock spreading her open, and his finger venturing into her ass for the first time. 

There was no room in her head for anything but him; no wispy thoughts or anything that could form coherent words. She was drifting through his bedsheets as he did as he pleased with her. 

With her attention only on him and he he felt, she could feel the twitch of his cock through her walls, everything stretched so tight around him. He barely stroked his finger through her back entrance, pulling it out the smallest amount before pushing back through. He was curating two opposing rhythms, leaving a part of him inside her at all times. 

The thought had a broken moan leaving her lips.

"Fuck, you're so hot, baby," Harry muttered, the burn of his gaze trapped on her ass, "Gonna make me cum just from seeing my finger in your ass." 

"I-I—" she floundered, unsure of where her mind was as well as the moisture in her throat, "I-I want—daddy." 

A particularly harsh thrust was delivered, the bones of his hips pressing hard into her thighs. Another tiny bit of his finger sunk into her backside, enough to have (Y/N)'s back arching. 

"What do you want from daddy, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice strained and thin. His composure was waning. 

What did she want from him? What else could he give her that she wasn't already reveling in?

"C'mon, love," he coaxed, though his voice was decidedly harsher than she'd heard it before, "Don't go dumb on me yet. I still wanna hear my smart girl talk to me." 

If he thought that would help clear her mind, he was sorely mistaken when she felt another gush of her wetness seep around his cock, her clit throbbing, and walls pulsing around everything inside. He could barely move his finger though the fact that she was aware it was inside was just as effective as feeling him slide through her virgin opening.

"Oh," he sighed, bottoming out with hard and fast thrusts against her, "You liked that, my love? I'll have to remember that, won't I?" 

"Uh-huh, uh-huh." (Y/N) nodded her head with only half of her attention on what he was saying. 

He pulsed his hand around her own, keeping her steady and with him. "We'll have to save that for next time though, sweetheart. I think you're about to cum with daddy, right?" 

That was what she had wanted. The last thing he could give her was his release landing across the backs of her thighs. She could only blindly nod against the pillow, her hair sure to be a mess by the time she would actually start to care about anything other than her lust-filled body. 

"I can't last much longer, love," Harry started, his words emphasized with the way he had to grit them out, "But, I need you to cum first. Wanna see you cum with your pussy and ass filled with me. Make me proud, sweetheart." 

For (Y/N), time stopped right there. All that she was aware of was the man at her back and the perfect ribbon in her tummy that had unraveled in the most spectacular of fashion. Her mouth dropped open to a silent gape, nothing coming out given the fact she couldn't take any air in. Her head was cloudy and warm, matching the rest of her body. Points of clarity came in the form of Harry's hand on her hip, the tap of his balls against her clit, and the sharp unfamiliarity of the stretch of her second entrance. 

That was the only reason she was aware of the fact he had pulled out. She mourned the loss of him inside her—in both places—until she felt him cum against her pussy, warm ropes sticking to her skin. The mess between her legs was now a perfect miss of the both of them, dripping down the inside of her thighs.

Aftershocks came in the form of lingering spurts from Harry, and (Y/N)'s walls pulsing around nothing. She couldn't be sure when she returned to the land of the living, but when the details of Harry's room came back into focus, she swore her vision was sharper. There was a joke about good sex there, something about Harry being her cure-all, but there was no way she could even attempt a tease at the moment. 

She knew Harry was with her once more when he dropped down to press a set of kisses on the small of her back. His hands were on her hips, one still holding tightly to her own, while the other kept her steady as she began to lose her balance and sink towards his bed.

"You with me, (Y/N)?" he murmured against her skin, his voice gruff.

Flexing her fingers in his as a response, (Y/N) gave a small nod. "I'm here." 

"Oh, love," he sighed, draping himself over her back, his lips pressing to the line of his jaw and soft of her cheek, "You did so good, I love you so much. Did that feel alright? I didn't hurt you right?" 

"No, no, I felt really good," she breathed, a soft chord of laughter swaying out amongst her words, "I think I almost blacked out." 

"Oh?" he sounded, his own peals of laughter following right after, "In a good way, right?" 

Letting go of his hand, (Y/N) brought it up to pat at his cheek. "In a good way." 

"Good," he crooned, pressing a gentle kiss to the palm of her hand before he started extracting himself from her. "I'm gonna get some things to clean us up, 'kay? Stay right here." 

He must think he's so funny, she thought, but she didn't have it in her to play his back and forth at the moment. He could win this round.

By the time Harry returned with wet cloths and a pair of his shorts for her to borrow, all of the slick release coating her core and the inside of her thighs had cooled. It was an uncomfortable feeling that he took his time wiping away. He eased up around her sensitive spots, apologizing with kisses to the backs of her thighs and promises to be gentle. 

"Did y'really like it, (Y/N)? Everything we did?" Harry asked after a moment, wiping down the insides of her thighs. 

She bit at the full of her bottom lip, unsure of how to articulate what she had experienced. "It felt weird," she started, unable to find any other word to describe how she felt, "But, I liked it—a lot. I think it helped since it was you, and I love you, but it was... good." 

"Jus' good? I thought y'said you almost blacked out?" 

Blindly swatting behind her, she landed her hand in the soft swirls of his hair. She playfully pulled at the strands. "I'm too tired to play right now, stop," she laughed.

Her reprimanding hold of his hair turned into gentle carding through the curls as he took care of her. A beat passed, Harry finishing cleaning her up before he helped her into her borrowed shorts. Collapsing onto his bed, her back bouncing over the springs, she figured laundry, including the clothes on the floor, would have to wait for now.

Hovering above her, Harry looked to her with his clear green eyes—the same ones she had seen that first time in her physics class after he had taken a leap and took the seat beside her. She would be eternally grateful he had the confidence to do as much, otherwise she would have never learned just how many greens were in his irises.

"Really," he started out, voice gentle and quiet like a secret, "'M really happy y'felt good. It obviously worked very well on me too." 

(Y/N)'s lips turned into an amused smile as she reached up and pushed back the flop of curls covering his forehead. "See, this is why you tell me things like this first—not the stream." 

It was a lighthearted tease that had his mouth splitting into a smile, bunny teeth and dimples on display. He dropped his head to press an innocent kiss to the tip of her nose, though it wasn't quite as effective through his smile. 

"I've definitely learned my lesson, flower," he murmured.

(Y/N) could only tip her chin and press her lips to his. 

—————

this is.....very different SHFUSHFSUH thank u sm for reading, thank you to whoever requested, sorry for any mistakes and if theres any other ideas anyone else wants to see please send them in!

Yellow*

Summary: An extra for One for the Money*

The one where you have to use your safeword with Mr. Styles and you worry it'll ruin everything.

Word Count: 3.4k

(TW: Panic attack and mentions of panic attacks)

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“Just like that…shit, just like that, Peach. So fucking good. Can feel you, honey. Fucking feel you—”

Mr. Styles’ hand intertwines with yours before he brings them both to your stomach. Pressing your palm taut to the flesh until you can feel the subtle bulge from his cock. Thrusting into you so deep, your eyes roll all the way back into your head.

He’s been at it for hours. Showing off for the camera, allowing them to see him at his most powerful. And you at your most vulnerable.

You’re used to it by now. More than used to it, and on any given day, you thrive off it. You indulge in his prowess, his intentions. More than willing to be flaunted in front of the large audience of onlookers as he takes you anyway he wants you.

So you’re not sure why today feels different. Why the weight on your chest is heavier than it usually is. Why his hands – while always kind, always comforting – feel like tools in a game of your misery.

You don’t want to stop him. Don’t want to scare him or upset him. You know the moment you utter the words, the dynamic will shift instantaneously. And perhaps that’s what you want, but the repercussions might be more than you’re prepared to handle.

Yet the thought doesn’t leave you as he lowers his fingers toward your clit to pinch and tweak your next orgasm out of you. But you’re already far too sensitive, far too gone in the stimulation and the pain to enjoy it.

Instead, you try to focus on the little red light that blinks from the camera, try to imagine how pleased the audience will be to see this. How all of this will be worth it. It has to be worth it.

“Feels good, honey, doesn’t it?” he groans, now pushing your knee into your chest until you’re whimpering. “My pretty pussy takes me so well, doesn’t she? Let’s me fuck her exactly the way I want. Till she’s fucking crying.”

You nod weakly and the sight of your wet eyes makes his cock twitch as he drives himself in at a quicker pace.

And suddenly, you can’t breathe. Can’t slow the racing of your pulse or ignore the ringing in your ears. It’s everywhere, this pain. Your vision of him has gone blurry and your poor pussy feels swollen and abused.

But you tell yourself it’ll be fine. That you just need to catch your breath. You just need a second, and it’ll be okay. 

Because you don’t want to say it. You’ve never had to say it before, and you don’t exactly want to start now. And you aren’t sure why, you know he’d be more than understanding. But this is silly, you feel silly. Because you’re fine. You just need a second. And it'll pass. 

It will pass.

But it doesn’t pass, and you don’t feel in control of your own body anymore. Which is normally the point, but not today. Today you need to feel grounded, to feel some semblance of power over the anguish. And he’s so good, and so kind, and you can’t say it. You can’t do this to him, can’t do this to yourself, and if you can just catch your breath, it’ll be okay. 

Because he feels good, he really does. And you’re making him feel good, and you don’t want to take that from him. Because then he won’t get to cum, and he’ll be upset, and he’ll never treat you the same. He’ll always remember that you were too weak to take it.

So you’ll take it, you will. You’ll be his good girl, his good little slut, and you’ll make him proud. 

You will.

Your eyes squeeze shut as you repeat this mantra. As you command yourself to like the pain. Because you do. You have to. You can’t say it. You can’t, so you won’t, and you won’t do this, and you won’t ruin it, and it’s fine, and everything is fine—

“Wait,” you whisper, hands tugging on the sweaty curls at your disposal. Hard enough to capture his attention. “Wait, hold on, hold…yellow.”

Just like that…it all stops. He stills, instantly. No more thrusts into your cunt, no more pinching or pulling on your clit, no more kisses to your neck. It all stops in the blink of an eye, and you hear him inhale a quick breath as his body freezes above yours.

Seconds pass. Quiet and filled with a charged, tense energy that’s so eerie, you can almost hear your heart thumping in your chest. 

Then, he murmurs, “Okay. Okay, m’waiting.”

Your lashes flutter shut as a wince stretches across your expression. He doesn’t sound upset, but maybe he is. And you can feel his cock twitching inside of you, can sense how hard he’s trying to hold himself back, how difficult this must be for him to stop like this.

And you realize now that you’ve ruined it, and he’s gonna be pissed, and he’s going to end things, and he’s never gonna fuck you again—

“Peach,” he says softly, face still nuzzled against your shoulder. “Talk to me, what do you need? What would you like me to do?”

You don’t trust your voice. Can feel the influx of tears racing up the back of your throat as you squeeze his hair harder and shake your head.

But this isn’t an answer he accepts, his fingers gently tugging on your waist. “Peach, I need to hear you. I need to know what to do—”

“Nothing,” you exhale, the words getting lost in his cheek as you hold on for dear life. “Nothing, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I just need one second. One second and you can go, okay? I promise, I’m sorry—”

“Peach.” It’s not angry but it’s fervent. Determined. “Don’t…shit. Don’t you dare fucking apologize right now, just tell me…tell me what you want me to do. Do you want me to pull out? Or do you want me to stay still?”

And you want to answer, but you can’t. Because there’s too much happening in your head right now. In your heart. It’s going faster than you think it ever has, and your lungs feel like they’re going to collapse, and you want to cry—God, you want to cry. Can already feel the tears slipping down your face, fast and without mercy.

Because he’s so good, and so wonderful, and so kind, and you don’t deserve him. Especially after making him stop, and why did you make him stop, why did you do this, why can’t you just get over it—

“Hey, hey.” His head lifts, eyes finding yours as his hand comes up to cup your jaw. As delicately as he can without startling you. “Okay, it’s all right. You’re okay, Peach.”

His lips press to the tears on your skin. Gently and with great compassion. Which, in turn, only makes you cry that much harder.

“You’re okay,” he whispers between slow kisses to your cheek. “Deep breath, my love. You’re all right, I’ve got you, yeah? M’right here. Won’t let you go until you want me to.”

You melt into the mattress as he continues holding you to the best of his ability. As he attempts to comfort you without causing you any more pain.

“Honey, I need you to tell me what you need. What your body needs,” he repeats after a moment, nose faintly brushing against yours. “Do you want me to pull out or do you want me to stay still?”

Truthfully, you aren’t sure what you want. It doesn’t sting the way it did before, but you’re worried if he moves, the pain will return tenfold.

And the thought of him taking himself from you makes your chest ache.

“I don’t know,” you whimper, attempting to hide yourself in his neck. “I don’t know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m trying—”

“Hey.” The stern voice returns as his palm tightens against your chin and pulls your focus to him. “What did I just say, hm? I don’t want to hear one more apology out of this pretty mouth. Is that understood?”

Your bottom lip quivers. “…I’m sorry.”

With a gentle but slightly amused sigh, he says, “Peach—”

“I am,” you insist, nails curling into the back of his neck. “I don’t know why I made you stop, I’m fine. I’m fine, really. I think I just got scared or something—”

“Scared?” His demeanor shifts on a dime, brows furrowing, and expression quickly growing distressed. “Scared how? What did I do? What can I do?”

“Nothing,” you repeat, gasping slightly at the implication. “Nothing, no. You didn’t…that’s not what I…fuck.”

“Okay, easy, Peach,” he mumbles, sweeping his thumb along your bottom lip soothingly. Waiting until you calm. And he studies you for quite some time, as though looking for the answer written somewhere on your face. “It was a lot, yeah? I pushed too hard.”

“No,” you try again, but his look of disapproval makes you wilt. “I mean…it was a lot, yes, but you didn’t…normally, it’s perfect. It’s never too hard or too much. You didn’t do this, I think I just…my mind wasn’t here. Maybe.”

He nods once. Contemplates this. “I should have checked in with you more frequently. Especially with the camera on—”

“No,” you huff, resisting the urge to slap his shoulder. “Stop putting this on yourself, it’s making me sad.”

“And your apologies make me sad,” he counters. “But that’s the point of the safeword, isn’t it? The system we have in place? It’s nobody’s fault. It’s about communication. About trust, about safety.”

You swallow thickly and settle into the calming safe of his eyes.

His finger continues to trace the outline of your mouth, almost as if in an attempt to collect himself. “Do you trust me, Peach?”

Your stomach sinks. “Of course.”

“Do you feel safe with me?”

“Yes.” You leave a kiss to his thumb. “Always, Sir. I promise.”

He begins to frown. “No, I don’t want you to call me that right now. I want you to call me Harry.”

And this shift – this instruction is what you were afraid of. Lashes fluttering as you whisper, “It’s…it’s okay. You can still be Sir, I promise—”

“No, I don’t want to be your dominant right now,” he corrects firmly. “I don’t want to be your Sir. Or your boss or your investor. I want to be your partner. Your equal. I want to be you and me. Us.”

And you know he means it. Can sense the truth of it behind his assertion and it feels like the first deep breath you’ve been able to take all day.

 “Okay,” you agree, taking hold of his wrist to keep his hand close to your face. “Okay, we’ll be us.”

He seems relieved, dipping down to kiss the center of your forehead before asking, “Now…tell me what you want. Do you want me to pull out or keep still? What does your body need right now?”

You take a moment to find the right answer. “I don’t…honestly, I don’t know. I’m okay right now. Doesn’t…doesn’t hurt as much. You can…you can keep going if you want.”

“It’s not about what I want,” he reminds you. “It’s about what you want. What you need. If you want me to stay, I will. If you want me to go, I will.”

“I…I don’t want you to go. Really, I didn’t mean to make us stop, I swear—”

“We’re not stopping yet,” he interrupts. “Not until you say red. Right now, we’re just taking a break. Reassessing what you need. Okay?”

You nod weakly. “Okay.”

“Good.” He presses his palm to your cheek. “Do you want to say red? Do you want to stop?”

Again, you deliberate this. “No. No, I don’t think so.”

The frown returns. “I need you to do more than think, Peach. I need you to be sure.”

“I am,” you rush to clarify, shifting a bit beneath him as you squeeze his arm and fight against a pained wince. “I am, I promise. I just…I don’t know what happened. It just…there was a lot happening all of a sudden, and I couldn’t…I couldn’t enjoy it. Couldn’t focus. Couldn’t breathe or…or understand why I felt so off.”

A certain sadness finds him again as he nods and presses a couple more kisses to your temple. “I think you had a panic attack, my love.”

It’s an odd thought. One you aren’t quite familiar with, as panic attacks aren’t that common for you. In fact, you don’t believe you’ve ever had one before. At least not that you were aware of.

“Oh…” The words feel empty in your head. Weightless, with no meaning to grasp onto. “I…why?”

The corner of his mouth curls up, and the delicate smile makes your heart soar. “I don’t know. Sometimes we can’t find the cause, it just…happens.”

You blink up at him. “You’ve had a panic attack before?”

“I have,” he says calmly, and it surprises you more than it should. “I get them occasionally. Not as much anymore, though. With you.”

And this admission feels like something you can’t explain. Another piece to the Harry Styles puzzle you get to add to. Letting you see his big picture.

“I didn’t know that,” you whisper, and he shrugs.

“I never told you.” Another kiss to your forehead. “But I know how disorienting they can be, and I think it’s best we take a longer break before we continue.”

You feel your expression fall as he gently begins to move. “No, I…I don’t want to stop, I’m fine. You can…you can go—”

However, when he suddenly shifts his hips, it forces you to suck in a sharp, pained breath. Making it clear that continuing is no longer an option.

And for some reason, it feels like a punch to the gut. Knocking the wind from your lungs until that heaviness returns to your chest.

He really is going to stop. He’s going to take his body from you, and his weight, and his heat, and his cock. And the scene will be over, and maybe you won’t start again. Maybe he won’t be in the mood, or he’ll jerk one out in the shower without you, or he’ll look at you differently.

And you hate that thought more than anything in the world.

“No,” you practically whimper, grabbing onto his hips to keep him still. “No, we don’t have to stop, I’m fine. Really, it was just…it was nothing. Please, Harry.”

His thumb quickly returns to your face, brushing just below your eye to help dry the fresh set of tears on your warm, stained cheeks.

And he looks so very wounded. “Peach…this isn’t a punishment. There’s a reason we use the traffic light system, and it’s for moments like this. To keep things safe—”

“But I am safe,” you argue, the sound of your plea timid and riddled with distress. “And I’m fine now, really. You can go, we can finish. I want you to finish—”

“Peach,” he says again, but it’s a bit more resolute. “This isn’t about me finishing. It will never be about me finishing, all right? We can always resume the scene later if you’d like, but right now…I want to hold you. I want to help you feel steady again.”

And it’s the most perfect thought in the world. From the most perfectly imperfect man, and yet the idea of stopping sends sharp needles down your spine.

“Please,” you whine again, sniffling softly. “I don’t want to stop, I promise. Please don’t make us stop, please don’t…don’t…”

He dips down and nuzzles his nose to yours, forcing you to take a deep breath. “Honey, I’m not doing this to hurt you. Or upset you. I want to help, I want you to let me help. To honor our system and take a break.”

But you tug on him tighter, face disappearing into his chest as you shake your head. “Please don’t. Please just ignore me. I’ll feel worse if we stop, really. I’ll get worried and I’ll overthink, and I’ll panic again, and it’ll just be so much worse. So just…let’s finish, okay? I want to finish.”

You hear – and feel – him sigh. “Baby, I need you to listen to me right now, okay? This is my answer.”

It’s rare he uses this nickname, and even though it might be a little cliché, it makes your stomach wrench in the best possible way.

Yet still, the anguish is evident. “Harry,” you whisper, pleading desperately with everything you have left.

He slips his palm around the back of your neck to pull you from his body and allow him to see your face. It’s scrutinous, his expression. Slightly stern and somewhat doleful. “Do I need to be your dominant again? Is that the only way you’ll listen to me?”

Truth be told, you wonder if it is, and your sad little hiccup seems to be answer enough.

So, while fighting a smile, he says, “Then I want you to be a good girl and let Daddy hold you. I don’t want you to argue with me, or fight me, or act like a brat. I want you to say, ‘Yes, Sir,’ and be done with it. Is that understood?”

With a shaky inhale and a feeble nod, you murmur, “Yes, Sir.”

“Good,” he hums before landing his mouth on yours. Kissing you for the first time in what feels like years. “Much sweeter when you behave for me, my love. Aren’t you?”

But you don’t have the strength to answer.

“I know,” he says for you, chuckling against your lips. “Now…I’m gonna pull out. And I’m gonna go slow, all right? Try to be as gentle as I can. And I want you to tell me if it aches or if it’s too much, yes?”

“Yes, Sir.”

With this vow, he begins to draw his hips back, cock retreating from your pussy until that full feeling begins to diminish.

And at first it’s a bit uncomfortable. Tight, in a sense but eventually, he’s all the way out, and your cunt is provided a moment of much needed reprieve.

The moment that relief finds you, it seems to melt across your expression. And he notices, smiling gratefully but with a twinge of regret. As though he’s punishing himself for causing you the displeasure in the first place.

But before either of you can argue about it again, he’s settling on the mattress beside you and slipping an arm around your stomach. Keeping you pressed against his body to hold you the way he promised.

“There,” he sighs, lips returning to their rightful place on your neck. “Is that better?”

Your eyes fall shut in blissful ecstasy as you lace your hand with his. “Yes, Sir.”

He grins and that familiar dimple reappears. “Attagirl. And you’re gonna let me hold you, yeah?”

“Mhm. Always, Sir.”

He kisses the spot below your ear. “Good.”

The large bedroom falls silent while the little red light from the camera blinks the seconds away. You imagine you’ll have to scrap this video, and you want to feel regret over wasting so much content over this.

But you know, deep down, it’s not about the videos, or your OnlyFans, or the money.

Because all you really need…is here beside you.

“Sir?” you whisper into the delicate air.

His head rolls back. “Yes, Peach?”

“Thank you.”

He squeezes your hip. “Don’t have to thank me, honey. This is my job. This is what we agreed on.”

“I know,” you admit, allowing your other hand to travel to his hair. Fingers absentmindedly sweeping through the curls. “But I don’t think any of my other partners would have been this understanding. And I really appreciate it.”

His eyebrow raises. “Well, that’s why they aren’t your fucking partners anymore. You needed someone that wasn’t a total fucking twat.”

You smirk. “Touché.”

Another quiet lull as you listen to the sound of his soft breaths. Reveling in the feel of them against your heated skin. The way they keep you present in this moment with him instead of losing you to the voices in your head.

Contented, you turn and press your cheek to his forehead, nails scratching down his scalp gently. “Harry?”

“Yes, Peach?”

With a racing heart, your eyes flutter shut.

“…I love you.”

Previous Part:

~ How Many?*

~ Full One for the Money Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Credit for the incredible and perfectly peachy dividers to @firefly-graphics!!

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @kathb59 @iamjustaholeforyousir @buckyssbestgirl @harrystylesfan2686 @cherryluvhobi @caynonmoondreams @daphnesutton @uniquesexything @amateurduck @ilovec0lbybr0ck @winterrays @milfrrynation @definegirlfriendsx @allthelovehes @amiets2 @nega-omega @sucker-4-angst @hsgucci94 @gills-lounge @kennedy-brooke @avasversion @stylesfever @saturnheartz @closureesny

Watch Me*

Summary: An extra for Teach Me*

It wouldn't be a party with Harry if there wasn't some light fighting and exhibitionism...right?

Word Count: 3.2k

*Contains Mature and Explicit Content. Take care of yourself first, only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞*

“Shit…easy—easy, Bee. For fuck’s sake. Are you trying to fucking kill me?”

Your eyes roll in response to Harry’s whines as you continue pressing the cotton ball into his skin. “I’m sorry, I’m trying to be gentle.”

“Oh, mhm. I can see that,” he snorts, leaning back against the wall. “I think you just like seeing me in pain. Sadist.”

The corner of your mouth quirks up. “Maybe.”

Your strokes are gentle but quick. The fluffy, white fibers of the gauze work to absorb the crimson stains smeared across his knuckles as the alcohol seeps through the broken skin.

He hisses again from the vexatious sting before settling once more. The small bathroom falls quiet, save for the sounds of the party happening throughout the rest of the house, but you feel his eyes glue to your face.

“Bee?”

Your brow raises but you keep your attention on his hand. “Hm?”

“Are you mad?”

Great fucking question.

You take a moment to find your response. Waiting until the wound is officially cleaned before tossing the cotton ball away and turning to him.

“No,” you say truthfully. “I know why you did it. And I know you could have really hurt him if you’d wanted to.”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip in thought, wincing some when he feels that injury as well. “Yeah, well—” He reaches up to press his thumb into the cut, “—I was feeling generous.”

You chuckle under your breath as you retrieve another tissue. Then, after dampening it with a bit of water, you push up onto your tiptoes and press the paper to the nick on his mouth.

“Still,” you murmur, gently padding the bruise, “I can’t be mad at you for wanting to defend me. Even if it was kind of dumb.”

His attention never leaves you. “I’ll always defend you.”

You smile.

“Especially from him,” he adds, glancing toward the door with furrowed brows, almost as if Eric is waiting right on the other side. “God, I fucking—he’s an ass, Bee.”

“Yes, I know,” you tease, stepping back to dispose of the tissue before grabbing the wrapping for his hand. “That is kind of his whole thing. Although you didn’t exactly help.”

Harry turns back to you, blinking innocently as if absolutely dumbstruck by the notion. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“No?” You begin bandaging his bloodied knuckles with the utmost care, despite the sarcastic tiff you two are in. “So…you sticking your hand up my shirt and sucking on my neck so he’d see was just…a happy coincidence?”

“I mean, I was pretty happy,” he argues.

You smirk, arms crossing when you’re through covering his hand. “Trust me. I know.”

“Look, I was just…enjoying the party,” he replies, shoulder lifting in a nonchalant shrug. “S’not my fault he just so happened to start watching.”

Your smile grows. “You wanted him to watch.”

He allows for a moment to look at you. “So did you.”

His tone has dropped to a devious murmur as he pushes off the wall and closes the small space between you. 

Your lashes flutter. “Says who?”

“Says you.”

“Yeah? And when did I say that?”

He comes to a stop about a foot away, his chest thisclose to brushing against yours. The potential contact makes your head spin. 

“When you were grinding against my cock,” Harry whispers, the proximity allowing for each word to dance across your cheek. “When you were whimpering my name. When you were guiding my hand under your little sweater the moment he looked over.”

He dips down, hoping to intimidate you, and you don’t want it to work…but it does.

“Isn’t that true, Bee?” he continues. “Wanted him to watch me touch you. Wanted him to watch me do what he never could. Wanted me to fuck you right there in the middle of that room and let him see how good you are for me.”

Your breath catches on the need bubbling up the back of your throat as you let him trap you against the sink.

“Asked you a question,” he pushes, his head cocking as his battered hand begins to reach for you. His fingers slip across the material of your sweater, and it seems innocent enough. For now. “Even though I already know the answer.”

“Yeah?” Your response is airer than you’d like. “And what’s my answer?”

The tip of his nose momentarily ghosts across yours as he hums. “Your answer…” he replies before you feel his bandaged palm smooth across your stomach, “…is yes. Yes, you wanted him to watch me ruin you. Yes, you wanted him to see the way you come for me. Yes…you want him to know how fucking well you behave.”

And maybe you shouldn’t be, but you’re so goddamn turned on right now. You hadn’t expected to see such a violent side of him tonight, but watching Harry beat the ever-loving shit out of your ex changed something for you.

Perhaps with a little therapy, you’ll discover why, but tonight…tonight you want to chase this feeling as far as it’ll take you.

Your hand finds his hair, nails scraping at his scalp as you tug him the last few inches. “Har—”

“What?” He keeps his lips from you. Either because of the fact that they’re busted or because he’s trying to taunt you. But no matter the reason…it makes you whine. “What is it, hm? What do you want?”

Your other hand finds his shirt as your fingers desperately tug on the once clean, white material now painted with splatters of blood. His and Eric’s. 

“You,” you breathe, as if it were obvious. “Please, Har—”

“No.” He straightens up, taking hold of your wrists to tug them away from his body. “No, I wanna hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

He smiles. “That you liked it.”

With an overdramatic huff, you lean back against the porcelain sink. “And what is it that I’m agreeing to liking? Him watching us or you knocking his teeth down his throat?”

He hums. “Both.”

Torn, you bite the inside of your lip in thought. “…fine. Fine. I liked it. Happy?”

His head shakes once before he’s leaning back in. “I want you to tell me…how much you like it…when I play with what’s mine. When anybody could see.”

The recall to the conversation that night in the restaurant is like a tug on your heartstrings and instantly, your walls crumble. 

You grab onto his face and smash your lips into his. And it’s a bit messy, and rushed, and not at all gentle from the way he hisses against your mouth from the assault to his cut. 

But the moment you attempt to pull back in an effort to ease his discomfort, he puts a hand on the back of your head to keep you close.

He likes the pain.

You smile into the kiss but aren’t afforded the chance to revel in this gleeful discovery before he’s groaning under a strained breath and turning you around.

It’s almost violent the way his hands meld to your hips as he rotates you. Forcing your stomach to meet the sink as your eyes meet the mirror.

Your reflection is much too telling. You see your surprised expression, your wide eyes, and your swollen lips.

You see the soft stain of his blood smeared across your mouth. See the angry marks littering your neck from his previous display of dominance in the living room. See the way your chest rises and falls from the ragged breaths you’re trying to take.

And then…you see him.

Standing behind you, his body pressed firmly to yours. You see the way his arms snake around your middle, the white dressing around his knuckles catching your attention as you follow it down your body.

He’s moving for the button on your jeans, tugging almost angrily until he can yank the material down to your knees. 

You’d forgone any underwear when getting dressed earlier. Something that wouldn’t be a standard choice for you when wearing a rough material like denim. But tonight, this choice was intentional.

You hear (and see) Harry growl the moment his eyes find the object sitting snugly between your ass.

And although he’d actually watched you put it in, he stares at it as though this the first time he’s ever been witness to something so beautiful. 

You feel the rough fibers of the gauze ghost across your skin as he gently runs his finger over the tip of the plug. He murmurs something under his breath you don’t catch (but sounds a lot like, “Pretty.”) before he looks over your shoulder.

You find each other. And in this one, unspoken moment…you feel everything.

The wounded hand sneaks back over your hip as he reaches for your cunt. And you watch with a racing pulse as the reflection shows you exactly what you’ve been needing.

He keeps you cemented to his chest as he slips two nimble fingers down your stomach. He finds your clit but bypasses it without a second thought, making you squirm a bit in his determined hold.

He travels down your cunt until he can find the mess you’ve been making for him all evening. Until he can feel just what having this plug inside you has been doing to help you along. Until he can take a taste for himself.

Scarlet spots of blood are already seeping through the white bandage as he eases a finger inside. It has to be one of the most erotic things you’ve ever been privileged to see, and you clench pitifully as your head drops back against his shoulder.

He grins with this and adds a second finger in beside the first. He’s decided that tonight isn’t the night to be gentle. To go easy and give you time. Tonight, he wants to take what’s his.

His other hand works on his own pants and the sound of his zipper coming undone makes a shiver run down your spine.

You watch his light wash and incredibly torn jeans travel down his thick thighs before he’s reaching into his briefs.

You can’t see his cock, but you can feel it hit your ass cheek as he brings it out and pumps it a few times. 

You’ve been needing him all night. All damn day, in fact. And this teasing lull he’s enforced only reminds you of this ache in your stomach as you whimper. As you silently plead with him to pick up the pace and feed your insatiable habit.

You have a feeling the tiny jewel between your ass is doing wonders to help him along because while you know he’d normally prolong such an event…tonight, he’s quick to kick your feet apart.

He runs the tip through a time or two before finding your eyes in the mirror.

“Ready?” he murmurs, soft breaths trickling across your shoulder. 

You nod, fingers curling around the edge of the porcelain to brace yourself. “Always. Go.”

He smirks at your eager insistence before he’s pushing in. And it’s rather easy considering how little foreplay was involved. But you suppose there didn’t really need to be. Not today. Not after all the teasing and grinding you’ve been put through the past couple of hours.

Still, his size is something to be admired, and you hum rather contently at the delicate sting of such a stretch.

His damaged hand moves up to your clit, rubbing in slow, lazy circles.

You’re enraptured by each sensation. Each wonderful, purposeful sensation. His languid thrusts as he works himself in. His ministrations to your cunt as he plays with you like a toy. The stimulation from the butt plug as it’s brushed with each drive of Harry’s hips. 

And him. You could watch him forever. The way his beautiful brows furrow in concentration. The way his sharp jaw clenches tight from the feeling off your body squeezing around him like a vice. The way those hauntingly stunning eyes roll back in his head.

“Bee,” he grunts, dipping down to press his mouth to the side of your neck. “Fucking shit, honey…wish you could see how good you look taking my cock right now.”

Honestly, you wish you could, too.

You reach back and card your fingers through his curls, tugging him closer. “Har…please—”

“I know.” He nips just below your ear. “I know. Gonna have to be quick, okay? ’Cause I gotta take you home.”

Your lashes flutter as you study him. “What? Why?”

He looks up. Finds you in the mirror. Smirks. “D’you really think I’m gonna fuck your ass for the first time in this shitty fucking bathroom at this shitty fucking party?”

Oh.

Your cheeks warm as you mewl your excitement and attempt to wiggle back into him. “Shit, then hurry. Please…please, Daddy.”

You know it’s cruel to break out the moniker so early, but you need him. Need everything he can give you. 

And it has the intended result if the way his entire expression darkens is any indication. 

His grip becomes tighter. His thrusts get deeper. His motivation grows stronger. 

He bottoms out, sheathing himself completely as you gasp and surge forward. It’s everything you’ve been needing. Full to the outmost extent. To feel him everywhere.

He releases your hip to return a hand to your clit while that bandaged hand of his moves to your throat. 

His rough fingertips press into the sides of your throat until your eyes grow heavy. Until your muscles have liquified and your body is slumping into his.

And he waits. Waits a second or two more until your pulse begins to slow before loosening his grip and letting you gasp for air.

And now that you can breathe again, it’s easier to focus on the sounds. The sound of his cock burying inside your aching cunt as it echoes around the light blue walls of the small bathroom. The sound of his heavy grunts and virile demands. The sound of your own whines as you whisper his name.

He slows his familiar rhythm. Lets himself drag through you until it nearly hurts. Until you’re left with this need to feel everything harder and faster and just…more.

His name drips from your tongue like rain from a cloud. Over and over until it’s all you can say. All you understand. Just his name. Just him.

He’s so beautiful. So absolutely glorious right now as he nearly takes a bite out of your shoulder, dark hair falling across his forehead from the harsh snapping of his hips. 

And his hand. That bloodied hand of his that rammed itself into Eric’s face so many times, you honestly lost count.

He’s worn bandages before. Mostly after a round or two with the punching bag at the gym. And you’ve told him a plethora of times how sexy it is. You’re not even sure why. Perhaps what it represents, a reminder of the fight. Of the pain he’s endured. 

Now? Now it’s stained with your ex’s blood. Proof of Harry’s love for you. Proof of what he’d do to keep you safe, make you feel comfortable.

Sure, Harry had allowed Eric to watch him tease you so openly for anybody to see. But the moment Eric’s expression had shifted—from surprised to cocky—Harry was flying out of the chair and throwing him against the wall.

It had taken you fifteen minutes to calm him down and drag him away to the bathroom. And Eric had simply laughed through the pool of blood in his mouth, cupping his broken nose as if he had won the fight. Just because he pushed Harry to his breaking point.

It was barbaric and idiotic and so goddamn stupid.

But you’d never felt so enamored.

And now, he wears this badge of honor proudly as he yanks you even further into his chest. As he uses your body for his own pleasure. As he presses his mouth to your ear and seethes, “My dirty little cumslut. Gonna come for me, aren’t you? Gonna come so I can take you home…and fuck this pretty ass.”

With that, he reaches down to slap his palm against your outer thigh, and the sharp smack of skin against skin bounces between the walls.

You’re so close. So close to getting everything you’ve ever wanted, and you don’t even care that half the house can probably hear you moaning for him. Can probably picture exactly what he’s doing to you as he ruins you from behind.

Which you don’t doubt he wants.

And maybe…you want it, too.

You can taste the beginnings of your orgasm as Harry chases after each whimper that leaves your throat. As he pinches your clit, rolls it between his fingers, presses into it until you see stars.

“Watch me,” he breathes, as if he thinks you could ever do anything else. “You fucking watch me ruin you. Watch the way you come for me. Watch the way you fucking fall apart like my perfect little whore.”

And you do. You watch him. Watch as he smooths his fingers through you. Watch as he spreads you. Watch as he feels you. Watch him touch you with a focused care that only comes from a man who gets more satisfaction from your orgasm than his own. 

And it’s quite fun. Quite erotic. To see that tattooed arm flex and roll as he feels you out. As he allows you to see how red and needy your body has become for him. As he slaps his palm against your pussy just to feel you jolt and clench down on him.

And then…the door opens.

It opens, and neither one of you has to look over to know who’s caught you. You can see her reflection in the mirror.

Tina.

You watch as she goes deathly still, face paling as her mouth falls open, an assumed apology already locked and loaded.

But for some reason…she doesn’t leave. At least not immediately as she looks between you and seems to piece a few extra things together.

And Harry doesn’t stop. Because of course he doesn’t stop. You don’t imagine a fucking hurricane ripping through the house could make him stop.

He simply smirks as he leans in to press an open-mouthed kiss to your cheek before groaning lowly and lewdly. 

And it’s your name he says as he scratches his nails down the front of your throat. Your name that he practically sings as he whispers, “Bet you fucking love this, hm, Bee? Should I let her watch? Let her watch you come for me?”

And you trip over a broken whimper as Tina quickly backs away, slams the door shut, and calls out a flustered, “Sorry!” through the wall.

Alone again, Harry picks up the pace. The noises being grunted into your ear now much more animalistic the closer he gets to his own release.

You watch as the poor cut down his bottom lip cracks open a bit more with each audacious kiss. Until the entire left side of your face is smeared with little droplets of his blood.

God, you love wearing him like this. More than anything and seeing it in the reflection is what pushes you over.

His bandaged hand on your throat, his tattooed arm spreading your pussy open, and his outrageously thick cock making a home inside your cunt.

The sound you make is a strange mix between a gasp and a scream, but it makes the vein in Harry’s neck twitch as he groans.

Not long after, he’s painting your insides with his come. And it’s warm, and full, and the absolute perfect end to a perfect party.

Because you know…

This is only the beginning. 

Next Part:

~ Lead Me*

Previous Part:

~ Find Me*

- Full Teach Me Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

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