VALERIE - Part I. (Harry Styles)

MASTERLIST!!!

Aside — if you have a disability and would like me to write about Y/N having it, please send in a request!

Smut ❀

Fluff ☆

Angst ＊

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- “Blood? Oh, it’s not mine.”. with my girl babies.

You guys have the same minds 😂

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“Harry, what the fuck?!” 

“Have you got bleach?” 

“What–”

Her boyfriend brushed right past her into the flat and started searching the place for bleach. He looked unbothered, as if he was looking for a shirt or his other earring and not covered in blood.

“Did you just...drive here looking like that?” she asked, still too shocked to move.

He chuckled, “Yeah, silly. Why?”

Her mouth fell open as she gestured to his blood-stained shirt. “What the fuck happened? Is that blood?!”

“Blood?” Harry looked down as though he hadn’t noticed that he’d been walking around looking like this. He stretched his shirt and said with a straight face, “Oh, it’s not mine.”

“What the fuck?”

“Have you got bleach? This is my favourite shirt.”

She padded over to him and grabbed him by the elbow. Despite her horrified expression, he offered a smile. “Kid, relax. Not my blood.”

“How’s that gonna make me feel better? The fuck?”

Harry cleared his throat. “Oh, sorry, I phrased it wrong. It’s fake. The blood’s fake. I accidentally spilt it all over me while I was on set.”

Eyes narrowed, she crossed her arms, leaned in and sniffed him. He burst out laughing, looking both amused and surprised. “Kid, did you just sniff me?!”

“Gotta make sure you weren’t lying!”

“You really thought I killed someone?”

She shrugged. “I mean, why didn’t you just get changed on set?”

Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Babe, I was afraid I’d be late and you’d be mad at me.”

“Late for what?”

“Our date tonight.”

She blinked blankly at him. “Wait, what?”

Harry laughed, probably thinking she was joking until he saw how serious she was, and his smile began to fade. “Babe, you forgot?”

“No,” she said quietly. 

“Bambi! You forgot about our date!”

"I’ve got bleach!”

“No, little missy, get back here. We need to talk!” Harry shouted as he followed her into the kitchen.

She looked at the drink in her hand, suddenly feeling demure and childish holding a drink the bartender told her was called Sex on the Beach after she asked for something that doesn’t take like alcohol. He noticed her hesitation and the way her eyes flickered between his drink and her own. “Would you like to try it?”

She nodded her head yes, letting him know that she did want to try it. So badly, she wanted to try it. Not because she wanted to taste the tequila, she was sure it wasn’t very good, but because she wanted to taste where his lips pressed against the glass. She could see the subtle fog where he was placing his lips every time he would take a sip. So, he handed her his drink and when she turned the glass and pressed her lips against where they both knew his lips had once been, he murmured a small, “Christ, Y/N.”

Or

Harry is a young professor and Y/N has never felt this kind of attraction before

Disclaimer: I didn't do a lot of editing to this, and it is also part one out of at least three!

Word Count: 14k+

Y/N was always one that was good at school work. She was punctual for class, thorough with her assignments, and would spend way more time than the average person studying for exams that she knew she would ace regardless. She flew through her undergraduate program, enjoying the learning component of school so much that she decided she would attend a graduate program.

She thought she would fly through it like she always had.

Y/N was wrong.

It was her first day in a teaching position as a graduate student, and the professor she was assisting for the semester only taught advanced level psychology classes. She thought that maybe assisting a professor in the class she was struggling most with — even though he was not her direct professor— might be helpful with bumping up her grade and understanding the content of the course. 

Although Y/N was not new to this program, she was struggling with one psychology course in particular. As the opportunity arose for her to TA (the pay was minimal, but she would take anything at this point), she jumped at the offer when she realized it was a position for a class she was nearly pulling her eyelashes out over. Of course she went over it with her guidance counselor to make sure the school didn’t qualify that as an unfair advantage. She didn’t want to be scolded for thinking it was appropriate to TA for a class she was concurrently taking, but her guidance counselor quickly reassured her that as long as she didn’t TA for the professor she was taking the course with, she had absolutely nothing to worry about. 

To say she was nervous was an understatement. The professor she was assisting was one she had never heard of before. With much frustration, she scoured the internet trying to find any inkling of information regarding him. There were no reviews on his teaching, no rating on how hard his course was, and the only thing she managed to find was his name (not even a picture) on the faculty website. Typically, Y/N could look up faculty and find a rating on some college website to let potential students know how hard their class was on a scale from one to five, how heavy the course load was, and if the student rating them would take a class with that professor on another occasion.

There she was, outside of his room, fifteen minutes earlier than she needed to be because she was always stressing over minuscule things (to her, five minutes early might as well be ten minutes late). Stress oozed from her pores, and she felt the tension build in her shoulders as it began sinking in that she knew nothing of the man who she would be spending quite some time with. She let out a small breath, trying to ease some of the tension in her shoulders and the way butterflies were infiltrating her brain and stomach. Y/N was in what she would call, a stress pocket. Like she had picked herself from the world and tucked herself away in a separate dimension that was only filled with stress. No happiness, no laughter, no sorrow, no anger. Simply stress. She could view the outside world from the clear stress pocket, but she couldn’t quite find a way to crawl out of it.

With one more breath and a copy of his course schedule in her hand, she flicked her gaze down and scanned it over once more preparing herself. As far as she was concerned, he had no class during this time slot and she could easily rasp her knuckles against the oak door, but a fizzle in her stomach stopped her from doing so. 

What if he didn’t know he was given a TA by the school? Is that possible? She went over a few practice lines in her head to make sure she had the words flowing through her brain before she worked up the courage to knock. It was somewhat of a habit of hers. When she ordered food for takeout, she spent a few minutes rehearsing her order so the words slipped out of her mouth nicely. Otherwise, her brain became flustered, her face would heat, and her eyes would gaze down at her shoes. 

Before she had the chance to rehearse what she was going to say, the door unlatched and popped right open revealing who she believed was Professor Styles. A satin shirt laid across his chest, slightly showing the tips of a tattoo she couldn’t quite make out. Long dark blue slacks covered his leg, flaring at the bottom and possibly made him look taller than he actually was. 

“Thought I saw a shadow lingering outside the door,” he murmured, stepping to the side to allow space for her to walk in. “What’re you doing standing out there for so long?”

It took her brain a couple seconds to compose her thoughts. This is exactly why she always prepared what she would say in advance, because her brain was becoming foggy as he held her gaze. She couldn’t help but scan his face a little more intensely than she probably should have, noting the slight pink color to his cheeks that matches his lips, the way his green eyes had a sort of sultry look to them, and the way he brought his hand up to his jaw, scratching at the stubble growing in as he looked at her. She had to avert her eyes, otherwise she may have never been able to get the words out— his beauty was a little too intense and overwhelmingly unexpected. 

Y/N doesn’t think she had ever seen anyone quite as beautiful as him. It was like an angel carved him from stone and decided the world needed a little more beauty. They planted him in the soil and grew him with the clearest spring water they could find, the sun nurturing his cheekbones and the soft brown curls that wrapped around the frame of his face so well. He was not accidental, he was planned by the Gods. Beauty that was a gift to the world.

“Sorry,” she managed to squeak out, her eyes plastered to the wall behind her as she cleared her throat to avoid any voice cracking. “I didn’t knock because I was a little early. I didn’t know if I would have been interrupting something.” 

His fingers pushed the door closed once more, then turned away from her and strode to his desk with long steps. Y/N took a chance to look at him once more, familiarizing herself with his features. She could tell by the way his eyebrows furrowed and his lips curved upward that he was sure of himself. “Mmm,” the hum coming from his vocal chord raised an octave up as he looked over a piece of paper on his desk. “You wouldn’t have been interrupting anything. How can I help you?”

She glanced down at the paper in between her fingers, and realized she was gripping it a lot harder than she processed. An indentation was made in the paper where her forefinger and thumb were straining it. In a few steps, she made it to his desk and slid the paper over to him, a slight shake of her hand as she gently pushed it across the desk. He looked up at her as he noticed the tremble in her hand, but chose not to say anything about it. 

“I’m your new TA for the class that’s starting in about ten minutes.” She spoke clearly, quickly removing her hand from the wood of his desk, and shoving it into her coat pocket. Y/N shifted on the backs of her heels, a tendency she had developed to self soothe in tense situations. 

His face lit up in realization, a look of understanding washing across his features like he finally put the pieces together as to why a random student, (certainly not one of his own because he’s great with names and faces), was nervously standing outside of his door. Her shy gaze faltering slightly as he asked why she was lingering behind the door suddenly made sense, and the nervous hand trembling was completely understandable when he realized she was reporting for her teacher’s assistant duties for the first time ever. She was just a little nervous, and he was determined to make her warm up to the new atmosphere around her. 

“Yes,” he smiled down at her, trying to make her feel welcome and comfortable. “Y/N, right? If I’m being completely honest, I forgot that I was getting an assistant today, but I’m happy you’re here!” He reached out his palm, encasing her hand in his with a firm shake. 

Her hand was delicate in his, the firmness of his made her feel small and she simply wanted to melt into a puddle against the tile as she took in his excitement. He wasn’t going to be so excited when he realized that she was actually very, very bad at abnormal psychology and couldn’t, for the life of her, remember any of the terms she was supposed to. A quick heat crept up her neck and infiltrated her cheeks at the thought of him thinking she was stupid. 

Y/N was not stupid. Y/N was anything but, and her greatest pet peeve was being belittled or ridiculed for her lack of knowledge because she spent a great deal of time intaking the material her professor’s provided her with. Hell, that’s how she got into grad school. It was just that abnormal psychology wasn’t her strongest course, and she couldn’t be faulted for that. She spent a lot of time studying for it, but her test scores were suffering more than she would like to admit. It could be because of her bashfulness, or maybe it was just her ego, but she couldn’t bring herself to visit her professor during office hours or even show up to the tutoring center. On the other hand, it also could have been because her professor was not the most approachable human being to exist and quickly made it known if you were inconveniencing him in any way.

When she didn’t say anything back, he sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth and motioned for her to follow him. Inside his classroom was a medium sized personal office tucked in the corner. Walls and a chestnut colored door separated it from the actual learning portion of the classroom. His fingers gently tapped against the door with the red undertone as he hooked his long fingers in the door knob and pressed it down. The door swung open, revealing another girl probably the same age as Y/N sitting behind one of the two desks. 

“Hi,” the girl behind the desk chirped. Her eyes were kind, and she sported big chunky glasses that suited her face well. One of the first things Y/N noticed was the subtle glow to her skin, and if she thinks a person could embody sunshine, it might just be this girl behind the desk.

“Y/N, this is my other TA, Mallory,” Professor Styles motioned toward the girl, Mallory, sitting behind the desk with a bright smile across her face. “She is also one of my TA’s for abnormal psych, but she is here with me in the mornings. I only teach abnormal psych this semester, so a couple TA’s will help me balance the workload. Sometimes your schedules may overlap for about twenty minutes or so, but whatever you’re falling behind on let Mallory know and she can pick up the following morning.” He glanced between the two girls, a smile spreading across his rose colored lips, “Same thing goes for Mallory. Whatever she needs help with, you’ll continue the task in the afternoon.”

Mallory motioned for Y/N to step inside the office, so she took the cue and walked inside. As she looked around, she noted that the office was decorated beautifully, like whoever designed the workspace must be keen on interior design. It felt more like a home than an office, really.

A green sofa with orange throw pillows flushed against the wall, as what she assumed was a comfortable area for students when they visit Professor Styles during office hours. Two fully wooden desks, side by side, though one was more cluttered which she assumed was Professor Styles’ workspace. A faux leather swivel chair was placed directly parallel with his desk for students to sit at while he chatted with them, or maybe even his colleague friends that visited him for lunch. The walls were decorated with paintings, mostly paintings with sage green and a burnt orange color to match the same vibe as the couch, and when she cocked her head to the side, she saw a small bench next to the door that held papers with community resources so students could tear off the contact information they needed.

“Mallory, do you think you could get Y/N familiar with the desk and the space? My next class starts in a few minutes and I just want to prepare a couple things. After that, you’re free to go.”

Mallory simply nodded as Professor Styles strode out of the doorway and back over to his main desk in the classroom. Y/N tore her gaze from him, trying not to ogle too much to the point where it becomes increasingly more noticeable. She made her way closer to the desk, where Mallory began showing her where all the supplies were. The top drawer of the desk was for pens and pencils, the second drawer was for extra sheets of blank paper, and the third drawer in the desk held an organized filing system which held all the answer keys for the tests he gave throughout the semester. 

“These are the tests I’m currently grading. I was able to get through his first two classes and part of his third class, but there are two more classes of 60 people that need to be graded plus the one that I didn’t finish all the way through.” Mallory pointed at the stack of tests that needed to be graded, and next to it was the hefty stack she had already worked through this morning.

Y/N looked down at the answer key displayed, and realized it was the same exact test she had taken just last week in her abnormal psychology class. “This is the same exact test I took last week,” she picked up the answer key and scanned it, noting the same wording on each question, same multiple choice answers, and same write-in questions.

Mallory nodded, a warm smile across her face as her voice chirped out, “Yeah, you’re in Professor Smith’s class with me. I recognize you. I sit behind you. Smith’s class is one week ahead of Harry’s which is why we’re able to TA for him, because we’re taking the same tests but a whole week before Harry gives them to his students,” she shrugs her shoulders up and down, “It makes it fair.”

It took Y/N a minute before she realized who Mallory was talking about. The name Harry got lost in her brain as she tried to understand who Mallory was talking about until she realized that Mallory was Professor Styles’ first name, and she knew that due to her deep Google searches on the young professor.

“I see,” Y/N nodded her head and placed the answer key back on the desk, not quite sure what else to say to Mallory. It seemed pretty straight forward, and if she finished before her time was up for the day, she was sure Professor Styles would give her something else to do for the remainder of the time.

“If there’s anything that you need, you can just ask me. My contact information is on that little piece of paper taped to the desk,” Mallory pointed at the corner, and Y/N read her full name, phone number, and email address, “But everything is pretty straight-forward.”

Y/N nodded, mumbling out an appreciative “thank you” as Mallory began gathering her stuff. Right before she exited the door, Y/N cleared her throat as she worked up the courage to get Mallory’s attention. 

Mallory turned her head slightly, her eyebrows raised as she held the edge of the doorway with her fingers, waiting for Y/N to say something.

“I was just wondering if…” Y/N trailed off momentarily, her eyes drifting to where Professor Styles stood as he greeted the students that were flooding in his room in large groups, “I was wondering if you liked assisting Professor Styles.” 

Mallory’s smile grew larger as she understood the nervous gulp Y/N gave in between words as she spoke. If Mallory was being completely truthful, she was skeptical of him at first too. She couldn’t find any ratings as this was his first year teaching and sometimes you truly don’t understand a professor’s temperament until you get to know them. “He’s great, I promise you.” Her eyes glanced behind her and she lowered her voice, “He’s nothing like Professor Smith… And he’s easy on the eyes.”

Mallory sent a wink toward Y/N, and Y/N felt that familiar heat crawl up her neck once more.

___________

By the end of the day, she had nearly finished the stack. With a glance toward the clock, she realized she only had a few minutes left and wouldn’t be able to crank out the thirty or so tests that needed grading. Her fingers drummed against the desk as she contemplated how to let Mallory know she didn’t completely finish. 

Y/N could send her an email as her contact information was taped to the corner of her desk, but it didn’t feel like a good enough reason to email her and she really, really didn’t want to bug her. Y/N thinks if she were in Mallory’s shoes, an email letting her know she didn’t finish felt unnecessary.

Multiple shoes clicking on the floor in the main classroom rang in her ears, the sound of nonchalant talking as the students shuffled out the classroom, and the sound of papers rifling in backpacks signaled that Professor Styles’ class had ended, concluding his classes for the day. 

It was only a few minutes before the last student finally made their way out the door, the familiar sound of the door clicking closed told her that he had finally completed his work day.

Like he was anticipating the end of his day, he gently tapped his knuckles upon the door of the office and before she could even mumble a small “come in,” the door was flying open. Y/N realized then that the tapping against the door wasn’t necessarily permission for him, but a courteous way of letting her know that he would be entering the room. 

He stood in the doorway, his lean shoulders pressing against the frame. The satin top that exposed just the tips of his tattoos taunted her, almost as if they were  looking back at her while she tried to decipher what might lay under his shirt. 

With hard eyes, he glanced down at what she was staring at and when he realized where her gaze was studying, he brought his nimble fingers to the top button and securely covered it so that the tattoos were no longer in sight. He cleared his throat and she swallowed hard, glancing around the room to try and play off her wandering eyes.

“How was your first day?” He asked, giving her a somewhat hopeful look. The kind of look that told her he must have had a TA at one point that had a terrible first day, and ran out of his abnormal psych class screaming, never to be seen again. 

If she was honest, the subject in itself was something she might have had trouble mastering, but the assistant duties weren’t that terrible. All she had to do was review an answer key, mark in red pen if they got the answer wrong, and total up the number of points they got on their test. It didn’t get much simpler than that. 

“It was good, Professor Styles,” she tried to make her voice sound as chipper and friendly as possible. She wanted him to know that she was happy to help him out and liked doing it. 

He shook his head slightly, a small smile forming across his lips to indicate amusement. It was almost as if she could see his eyes shine a little brighter than they were before as he brought his hand up to his neck and rubbed in a comforting way like. He searched the air, trying to find the same words he used for Mallory when she began assisting him. 

“I like to be called Harry if that’s something you’re comfortable with. I want you to feel like we’re on the same level, almost like we’re colleagues. You don’t need to address me as ‘professor’ because I’m not your professor,” he began the same spiel he told Mallory, letting her know that they were equals and it made Y/N’s insides warm a little bit. “For example, if one day you told me you wanted to teach the lesson, I would absolutely trust you to do so.”

Her eyebrows scrunched and her tongue flicked against her lower lip, the eyes that were previously locked with him now analyzing the pattern of the wooden desk as she shook her head in a gentle way. Giving a lesson was definitely not something she wanted to do. Maybe Mallory was the kind of TA that wanted interaction with the class, but not Y/N. No, that wasn’t Y/N at all. 

Y/N considered herself to be a simple person. She didn’t mind sneaking into the office he had tucked away in his room with the door closed as she graded papers. She didn’t mind the silently working alone, reading through answers, trying to decipher sloppy handwriting, but she did not want to teach a lesson,

Maybe Mallory was her polar opposite, balancing out his two TA’s. Mallory was talkative enough when she met Y/N. She seemed like the kind of girl that could discuss a topic as bland as oranges for thirty minutes by constantly adding new components to the conversation. Mallory and Y/N might be a yin and yang ordeal, opposites that balance each other out just enough that it works together.

“I appreciate that, but I don’t want to teach a class,” she explained. It took a second for her to calm the thoughts that were picking at her brain. Maybe the idea of teaching a class sounded some sort of internal alarm that forced her shoulders to tense up, her knees to lock, and her mouth to produce more saliva than necessary because she physically felt her body constrict at the idea.

“No, you don’t have to,” he shifted against the doorframe, sensing how uncomfortable she was and silently cursing at himself for putting her in such an awkward position on her first day. “I was just trying to explain that I want us to be equals.”

She simply nodded, not quite sure what else to say. She could confirm that she was comfortable calling him Harry, but she thinks he probably already knew she would if that is what he was requesting. She settled on two words that expressed her gratitude, “Thank you.”

He gestured his hand as if to say don’t even worry about it, but a puzzled look formed on his face as he did so. “Do you mind telling me why you don’t want to teach a class? Mallory nearly fell out of her seat with excitement when I told her she could if she really, really wanted to.” 

There it was: confirmation that Mallory was her opposite. A sense of relief washed through her veins as she realized it was perfectly okay for her to be the quiet one, as long as Mallory was outgoing.

Her eyes narrowed and Harry could tell she was trying to find the words to explain how she felt about the idea. She was very thoughtful, and in the short three hours he had known her, he appreciated that quality about her. Y/N couldn’t tell him she sucked at abnormal psychology and was almost failing her class. She couldn’t tell him that she would pretty much be setting his students up for failure if she taught the class, but she could tell him that she was uncomfortable in big groups of people. That was true. As soon as the group exceeded five or so people, she realized she never wanted to participate in the conversation as she felt like she never had anything good enough to say. Y/N was more of a listener, and sometimes even then, five people in her friend group was overwhelming. 

“I’m not a good public speaker,” as the reason slipped from her lips, she suddenly felt like that was such a silly reason to make a fuss over it. It was true though, public speaking was not really her element. 

“We could always work on that if that’s something you’re interested in?” He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. If she refused the offer it wouldn’t really bother him, but he wanted to give her the option anyway, just in case it’s a goal she wants to work toward.

Y/N didn’t know what possessed her because even though working on public speaking would be helpful in its own way, she really didn’t want to. She had already taken the most basic required public speaking course and did not plan to take any other communication class, but she nodded her head in agreement with his proposition and mumbled out, “That would be great.”

Harry could tell by the lack of enthusiasm in her response, and by the way her shoulders slumped forward and her nose scrunched up that she didn’t actually mean it. It was more that she was trying to be polite than anything, and he thinks that maybe if he were her, his reaction would be the same. He used to be a people pleaser too, and at first it was a harmless personality trait that slowly morphed into something that was no longer harmless, he was absolutely taken advantage of (covering shifts for coworkers when he didn’t want to, staying out too late with friends because they wanted to even though his warm bed was calling) and became a difficult thing to shake. 

He glanced down at his watch, reading the time carefully. It hadn’t felt like 15 minutes of interacting with her until he realized just how long his, now numb, shoulder was pressed against the door frame. “It’s probably time you head out, hm?” 

“Yes,” she breathed out, finding her voice. She knew they hadn’t been talking for too long, but she didn’t want to overstay her welcome. Not that she was itching to stay and grade papers. No matter how mindless the activity was, she did want to go home. It was at that moment she realized the question she wanted to ask him hadn’t come up yet, and it was the first thing she wanted to ask when she heard the shuffling of footsteps as he wrapped up his last class of the day. “I have about thirty tests left to grade. How can I let Mallory know?” 

He wasn’t looking at her as she spoke, but she knew that she had his undivided attention. With hesitation, she gulped as she watched his long fingers rake down his throat, his index and middle finger touching the skin ever so gently, just avoiding his Adam's apple. It only took a couple steps for him before his long legs were at his desk in the office, and he was sifting through the disorganized pile he must have dumped on there in between classes. “Why don’t you just leave her a little note that she can read when she comes in tomorrow morning? Should be fine.” 

It didn’t take too long for her to grab a blank piece of paper from the second drawer. She scribbled out a note as quickly as possible, letting Mallory know how far she got the day before and thanking her for picking up where she left off. As soon as she was done writing the note, she began gathering her things. Y/N was more than ready to get back to her flat, have a small discussion with her flatmate (who also happened to be her best friend), and climb into the comfort of her bed. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said softly. 

He gave her one of those sweet smiles that he must have kept tucked away in his utility belt of charm, and waved her a simple goodbye. 

She thought of him the whole way home even though she tried not to. 

___________

“So how was it?” Her roommate and best friend from her undergraduate days, Niall, asked from the other side of the kitchen. She had been home for a total of ten minutes and he was already interrogating her, but she didn’t expect anything less from him. With a short glance over to where she stood at the counter, he gave his attention back to the refrigerator where he was rummaging to find the strawberry kiwi flavored juice he loved so much. 

“It was fine,” she shrugged her shoulders. As soon as she started speaking, his eyes fixated back toward her as his hand finally grasped the strawberry kiwi juice he was looking for. Instead of holding eye contact, she let her gaze flicker to the floor.

Eye contact was one of Y/N’s telling traits; Niall knew that when she couldn’t hold eye contact with him, she was either lying or holding out on giving him information. A smirk danced across his lips as he shut the fridge, then leaned his body against it slowly. “You’re either lying or holding out on me. Which is it?”

“Holding out on you,” amusement twirled throughout her eyes, and her lips curved to match the same smirk Niall was giving her.

“Won’t you tell me?” He clutched his chest, feigning heart pain as if she had stabbed him by telling him she was holding out.

“He’s really…” She trailed off, not quite sure how to say what she wanted to say appropriately. It felt wrong to say it out loud. She wasn’t concerned that Niall would judge her, but if she was being honest, she was judging herself for being so attracted to the professor she was supposed to be working for. She decided to put it as bluntly as possible, “Attractive.”

In a matter of seconds, Niall’s smirk turned into a full blown smile, teeth showing and all. It wasn’t common for Y/N to talk about when she found someone attractive. She always kept to herself. In fact, she kept to herself so much that when Niall invited her out with his other friends, he was always a little worried that she was feeling overwhelmed. It’s not that she couldn’t take care of herself or regulate her own emotions, she absolutely could and he knew that, but he always worried that she was forcing herself to be around his friends just because she wanted Niall to know she cared about spending time with him. “Is he now?”

“Yes,” her smile turned into a sheepish one, her ears feeling hot right at the tips.

“Have you told him that you suck at abnormal psychology?” Niall didn’t mean this in a mean way, he knew Y/N was struggling with her abnormal psych class because she had come home on multiple occasions, kicked her shoes off, buried her face into the couch cushion and screamed at the top of her lungs. When Niall asked her why she was being so dramatic, she told him that she was failing her first class, and even he was slightly taken aback by the news. Y/N had better grades than anyone he knew. 

“That’s not the plan anymore,” she explained, her fingers rubbing against the countertop just enough to feel the smooth coating. She was waiting for him to scold her. She was actually anticipating it on the car ride when she decided that she absolutely, for certain, was not going to tell Professor Styles—Harry— that she was failing her abnormal psychology class. When the opportunity came for her to TA, she had talked about it with Niall. He knew she was a naturally shy being, but he explained that if she was still struggling in a couple weeks when the TA position started, she could tell the professor and maybe they would offer her some extra help or some extra worksheets that would get her back on track.

“What do you mean?” Niall furrowed his eyebrows, taking a swig of the strawberry kiwi juice he had forgotten he was holding in his hand.

She simply shrugged her shoulders up and down, staring at her pink polkadot socks as she wiggled her toes to distract herself.

“Why? Because you think he’s attractive?” Niall tried to understand, pressing the topic further. If she didn’t want to give him anymore information regarding it then he would stop pestering her, but his job as her best friend was to pester her anyway.

She simply nodded, still not looking up.

“Sheesh, Y/N.” Niall brought his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose and pressed it together in order to relieve some of the tension building in his head. He wasn’t going to tell her it was a bad idea or shame her for finding him attractive. Hell, he was putting himself in her shoes and decided that if he found one of his professor’s attractive, he would probably leave out information like that too.

“I know,” was all she said, a tinge of shame ringing in her tone but he waved her off.

“So,” he said, not wanting her to feel too badly, “Indian for dinner?”

She gazed back up at him, a grin shining in his direction as she said, “You know me so well.”

________

Days had passed of Y/N working in the office located in Harry’s classroom. They didn’t talk very much, but sometimes he would come into the office and sit with her. While he did work on his computer and she graded papers, he would make small talk. He would ask her things about why she chose to major in psychology, what undergraduate school she went to, where she was from. Normal things like that. Sometimes she wanted to ask him questions too, but she could never work up the courage to until today (it only took her a few weeks).

“Do you have a favorite color?” It was the most mundane question she could ask him, but she was actually asking for a reason. Typically, she graded the papers in the red pen Mallory left behind, because it was cohesive with Mallory’s work.

“I like green. Why do you ask?” He glanced up from his laptop, closing the lid just slightly so he could get a better view of her face. 

“I grade with a red pen. I was wondering if there was a preference you had,” she suddenly felt childish for asking, and was mentally banging her head against the wall. 

“You can keep grading with red. That color is better for grading anyway.” His eyes tore from her and he was back to scrolling through something on his laptop. Her eyes remained fixated on him, and she wanted to keep the conversation going, but there was no way she would have been able to work up the courage to speak to him again. Like he was reading her thoughts, he looked back at her and concluded with, “Thanks for asking, sweet girl.”

Sweet girl. 

Her heart nearly exploded in her chest.

After that day, her and Harry spent a lot of time talking. Possibly too much time talking.

___________

Mallory decided that since she and Y/N both TA’d for Harry, it was an unspoken rule that they should start sitting together in Professor Smith’s class. The day after Mallory met Y/N, she packed her bag up from the other side of the classroom, and moved to the back desk in the seat parallel to Y/N.

Their seats already weren’t too far away, even though Mallory originally sat on the opposite side. Actually, Y/N hadn’t ever realized before but the classroom was small, sterile, and unwelcoming. It wasn’t the way Harry’s classroom was set up with paintings hanging on the wall, informative sheets placed on a vintage waist level bookcase that was filled with leatherback classics. Professor Smith’s class was that of a doctor’s office. No color except gray, tile that constantly smelt of lemon floor cleaner. Y/N didn’t always catch the fine details, but when comparing Professor Smith’s class to Harry’s, she realized just how much Harry went out of his way to make the environment feel like home. 

So Y/N was a little grateful when Mallory took a seat beside her, the atmosphere feeling a little less cold and dark. They would work together on in-class projects, and Y/N realized that Mallory was really, really good at understanding the fundamentals to abnormal psychology. She was actually really grateful she met Mallory, because the more Mallory helped her, the better her grades were looking. She still wasn’t passing the class at a satisfactory level, but she was definitely getting better. 

Mallory liked to talk a lot, which was good, because Y/N liked to listen. She never had much to say, but Mallory always did. Like today, for example, she was telling Y/N that she and her boyfriend were going to some dive bar on the East side with tickets to a comedy show on Friday, and she really wanted Y/N to come. Her other friend and her friend’s boyfriend bailed, but Mallory had already purchased two extra tickets for the comedy show and she would hate for them to be wasted. Y/N was hesitant at first, but she decided there was no harm in going. She liked Mallory a lot, and she was excited to meet Mallory’s boyfriend because she had heard so much about him.

“Are you going to bring your boyfriend? If you don’t then we’re going to have that one extra ticket,” Mallory explained.

Her boyfriend? When had Y/N ever said that she had a boyfriend? Mallory wasn’t the type of person to assume either, so she tried to replay the past conversations in her head dating back to when Mallory and her first started conversing about a month and a half ago. They had talked about all kinds of things, but Y/N had never mentioned a boyfriend. As if the puzzle pieces clicked together, she realized just how often she talked about Niall when she felt she had something interesting enough to add to the conversation.

“Do you mean Niall?” Y/N questioned, her eyebrows raised just a smidge.

“Yes,” Mallory confirmed, confusion laced in her tone and present on her features. “Is he not your boyfriend?”

“No,” Y/N started to laugh, the kind of laugh that made your nose scrunch. Niall was handsome, sure, but they would only ever be best friends. They definitely were not each other’s types. Y/N had seen Niall’s type at nights when he would escort her to small gatherings to play board games. The girls (sometimes even guys, she thinks, though she’s never asked) would be twirling their hair in the corner as he charmed them with that dazzling smile. “Niall is my best friend! He’s also my roommate which might be why you’re confused. I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Mallory said, a smile spreading across her face as she clapped her hands together. “Well, why don’t you bring him then if he’s your best friend. I would love to meet him!”

“I think…” Y/N trailed off, trying to think if this is something Niall would say yes to. He was such a social butterfly, he usually never said no to going out, so she didn’t see why agreeing for him would be a problem. “I think that would be a lovely idea.”

When Y/N got home that night, she asked Niall and to no surprise of her own, he excitedly agreed and said he was excited to meet Mallory.

___________

Harry dismissed his class early that day. Mallory didn’t show up to grade papers in the morning because she had a doctor's appointment she already arranged with Harry. He decided that since there was not much left on the chapter his class was going over, he would help Y/N grade the test his class took two days ago since she was grading by herself. 

He popped his head through the door to tell Y/N that he dismissed class early and was going to step out for a few minutes. She gave him a nod in confirmation and heard his heels click as he walked out of the classroom.

Just like he said, he was back in a few minutes but with two coffees in hand. She eyed the coffee with the whipped cream on top, and a devilish smile spread across his lips, his eyes sparkling. Was that other coffee for her? If so, how did he know she liked whipped cream on the top?

“I got us a treat,” he set the two coffees down on her desk and pushed the one with whipped cream, then grabbed his swivel chair that was tucked into the desk he normally sat at in the office and placed it directly next to hers. When he sat, he was so close that she could feel his knee brush against hers.

“Thank you,” she expressed her gratitude and picked up the coffee, eyeing the whipped cream once more. “How did you know I liked whipped cream?”

He paused and looked at her. The look on his face was teetering on the edge of wariness, like he didn’t want to say anything to cross the fine line of a boundary they had constructed. As he searched for the right words to say, he drank in her appearance and she couldn’t help but want to melt away as his eyes danced from her own eyes then back down to her lips then back up to her eyes. “When you come in looking especially tired, you always have a coffee with you, and every single time you’ve had a coffee with you, it has whipped cream on the top.”

Her heart thumped in her chest. Did he notice her that often? Surely he didn’t notice her the way that she’s noticed him. She notices how his tongue darts out and swiftly moved across his bottom lip when he’s concentrated, how he clicks his pen to the beat of the song when they’re playing music in the office, and how he rakes his forefinger and middle finger up and down his throat when he’s really listening to what she has to say.

“I was thinking that we could share this answer key,” he tapped the answer key she had toward the top of the desk, “To grade these papers together. It’s Friday night, I’m sure you wanna get out of here a little early.”

She decided that he was maybe the most thoughtful person she had ever met. There was absolutely no reason that he needed to help her, he could have let her do it all on her own. He didn’t need to get her a coffee either. Maybe she just wasn’t so used to random acts of kindness, or maybe it was the fact that every single day, her attraction to him grew and grew like a plant flourishing in the sunlight. “Did you want me to make a copy?”

“What? Am I sitting too close to you?” He teased, brushing his leg up against hers. She sucked in a small gasp as she felt his knee against hers once more, and maybe it was because she was so touch starved, but she wanted him to do it again and again and again.

“No, no. Not at all,” Y/N said a little too frantically. A little too eagerly.

“Hush, pet. I’m just kidding with you.” Harry spoke softly, letting her know that he was only teasing her. 

They worked in silence for a little while until Y/N rested her back against the chair. She was beginning to cramp up from the way she was sitting. Her fingers were beginning to hurt with each stroke of the pen. Her eyes were getting a little blurry from looking at the same thing over and over again, so she used her left hand (the one that wasn’t cramping up) and grabbed her coffee, taking a swig and underestimating the strength of her left hand, causing whipped cream to coat her upper lip.

Harry laughed gently, then used his fingers to wipe the whip cream off her mouth. He grabbed her lips in between his fingers, then wiped the whipped cream onto his pants. She shuddered softly, almost unnoticeably when she felt his fingers so gently across her lips. Though this was not professor and TA behavior she would deem normal, he said nothing about it, and she was beginning to think that maybe she was overthinking the whole thing because she found him so attractive. With one swift sentence, he pulled her from her thoughts.

“Are you doing anything tonight?” He asked her, making subtle conversation as his pen marked a few things on the test he was grading. Like Y/N, Harry wondered what Y/N did in her free time although he never found a way to weasel that into their conversations. While their conversations were mostly made up of random tidbits of their lives, he had never figured out how to ask how she would spend her weekends.

Y/N was about to tell him that she was seeing a comedy show with Niall and Mallory (and Mallory’s boyfriend of course), but she wasn’t sure if Mallory had told Harry they became quick friends. What if Mallory didn’t want him to know? Y/N couldn’t understand why Mallory would think that way, but just in case, she decided she wouldn’t tell him anything about it. “I don’t think so,” she lied plainly, “What about you? Are you doing anything special?”

Harry casually looked up, clicking the pen a few times before replying. “I am doing something tonight. My friends planned it. If I’m being honest, though, I’m not quite sure what we’re doing. They have told me a few times, but it’s gone over my head. At this point, they’re going to swing by my flat and pick me up just so they are certain I’ll actually show up. Not that I don’t want to see them and don’t care about the plans, I’ve just been so busy.”

“Oh,” Y/N tightens and a sudden realization sweeps through her mind. What if he has a girlfriend? She pushed the thought from her head and buried it, “I’m like that too, I think.”

The sudden realization she tried to bury put her in a somewhat sour mood. Harry notices right away, but he doesn’t ask her why she’s suddenly so adrift from their conversation in an attempt to not push her. If something was bothering her and she wanted to talk about it, she would.

They spent the rest of the time grading papers, and before she left for the night, he told her to have a great weekend, and she told him to have the same, the sullen feeling still weighing on her chest.

___________

The bar was very crowded, very noisy, and not usually Y/N’s scene at all. When her and Niall arrived, she quickly introduced him to Mallory, and Mallory introduced her boyfriend—Josh— to them quickly. The comedy show didn’t last too long, and Y/N could have sworn that Mallory said it was a dive bar when she was trying to convince her to come. The atmosphere was that of a nightclub, as the show finished people shuffled to the dance floor and began dancing.

Mallory grabbed Y/N by the arm and ushered her over to the bar, and Y/N was guessing that she could feel the tension radiating from her. “I think a drink will loosen you up. Do you want a drink?” Mallory asked.

“I don’t drink very often,” Y/N said, unsure of what to order. There is one thing that Y/N does know about drinking, and it is that she hates the taste of alcohol. The bar was crowded, and Mallory shoved in between two people sitting in barstools, making room for Y/N. Her fingers brushed against the counter, feeling a cold liquid under her hand. It took everything in her to not scrunch up her nose as she wiped the mystery liquid against the bottom of her satin dress.

“That’s okay,” Mallory said, “Just ask the bartender what he thinks you’ll like.”

Y/N didn’t know how the bartender would know what she likes if she didn’t even know what she liked herself. Mallory ordered something red, but Y/N didn’t know the name of it. She knew immediately that she wasn’t going to get that though, because the smell of vodka coming from Mallory’s drink was strong. Mallory took a strong swig of the drink, not making a face and giving her a thumbs up. It was at that moment that Y/N decided she really liked Mallory’s carefree personality. She really enjoyed Mallory, even if the bar was a little too loud than she would normally like, Y/N decided it was worth it to spend time with Mallory and Niall.

“What can I get for you?” The bartender turned and looked at Y/N after watching Mallory take a sip of her drink to make sure it was made to her satisfaction. 

Y/N hesitated, “Something that doesn’t taste like alcohol, I think.”

“I’ve got the perfect drink for you,” he yelled over the music and people talking then reached for a glass from under the counter. He added a few juices to the glass and a steep amount of alcohol. Y/N wasn’t sure if he misheard her and thought she asked for something that did taste like alcohol based on the amount he put it. After the glass was full to the brim, he popped in a little umbrella and slid it over to her. “Let me know if you don’t like it. It’s called Sex on the Beach.”

Sex on the Beach was such a crude name for a beverage, but who was she to judge the name. Maybe it really did taste like sex on the beach. She sipped through the straw and was surprised when it tasted like an assortment of juice and none of the alcohol he had heavily poured into the glass. She murmured a soft thank you, and though he didn’t actually hear her, he knew she was expressing gratitude.

It only took a couple seconds to find out where Niall and Josh had moved. Mallory and Y/N walked over to them with drinks in hand, and even with the one sip Y/N took, she already felt much looser. They found their way to a booth, facing the door.

By the time an hour passed, Y/N and Mallory finished their drinks and Y/N was feeling exceptional. They made their way back to the bar and the bartender winked at her, fixing up another Sex on the Beach and Mallory ordered something different this time.

As they walked back toward the booth, Mallory nudged Y/N with her elbow and pointed toward the door. Y/N watched Harry walk in with a couple of his friends, his eyes locking with hers and then flickering over to Mallory. A grin spread across his face and his hand came up in a slow wave. Mallory quickly waved back and Y/N just stood there, shocked that these were the plans his friends had made with him. 

He approached them, leaving his friends to saunter to the bar without him. The three of them exchanged hellos, then he shifted his body to face Y/N. “I thought you weren’t doing anything?” Harry yelled over the music, smoke clouding around the three of them.

“I forgot,” she lied, and Mallory quickly turned her head to look at Y/N as if to say how did you forget when we’ve been talking about it all week.

To Y/N’s misfortune, Mallory said just that. “We’ve been talking about it all week, Y/N. How did you forget?”

Harry’s face sparked with amusement as if she had caught her red handed, her tongue twisting in the shape of the lie that she had so easily told him earlier in the day. Y/N rolled her eyes at Mallory and laughed a little, the alcohol pumping through her veins at an alarmingly fast rate.

“I’ll meet you back at the booth,” Mallory was grinning as she turned her body and walked back over to where Josh and Niall sat, waiting for them to return. Y/N realized that she really needed to explain herself to Mallory, the conversation with Harry probably seemed a little more intimate than it actually was.

“I’m going to go get a drink,” Harry eyed her drink, her Sex on the Beach. Oh, she would love to have that with Harry. Y/N’s tipsy brain was much more scandalous than her sober brain. “Maybe we can talk later.”

Y/N really wanted to spend more time with him. She wanted to sit with him, and meet his friends. It wasn’t going to happen, but she so desperately wanted to. It took a second for her to tear her gaze from his body as he walked away from her and toward the bar to meet his friends. She took this as her cue to not stand in the middle of the dance floor like an idiot and found her way back to the booth where her friends waited for her. Niall looked at her suspiciously but she shrugged her shoulders in response, directing her attention to Josh as he talked about a movie trailer he recently saw and how much he wants to go see the movie in the theater. Y/N knew exactly what movie he was talking about, and said that she wants to see it too, so the four of them made plans to go see the movie next Friday.

Throughout the night, Y/N glanced at Harry and more often than not, they made eye contact with one another. Thirty minutes had passed from the time he walked in the door with his friends, and finally, the last time they locked eye contact, he subtly nodded toward the hall that led to the Billiards room and the bathroom. Immediately, Y/N knew that he was telling her to meet him there. 

“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” she said, the drink still in her hand. 

Mallory and Josh thought nothing of it, nodding at her to confirm they heard her, but Niall eyed the drink she sported in between her fingers and gave her a knowing look, a twinkle shining in his eye. Oh, he was definitely going to be asking her about this later.

She staggered toward the hallway, moving through the crowd of people, trying not to spill her drink on herself, the floor, or the people near her. As she made her way to the hall, she felt Harry come up behind her, knowing it was him by the minty citrus scent of his cologne.

Y/N flipped around and the hallway was so crowded with people that they didn’t have much room between them. Her back was slightly pressed against the wall, his thigh placed in between her legs, rubbing her gently. She was suddenly hyper aware of how he felt, how he smelled, and how he looked.

He wore jeans that flare at the bottom, a black sweater tucked into the tops of the jeans. The sneakers he had on matched his outfit perfectly, and it took her until this very moment to realize that he was fairly fashionable. His outfits always looked put together, but they weren’t trendy. They were always timeless and fitted to his lean stature.

“I’ve been looking at you all night,” his tone was soft and his eyes searched hers thoroughly. “You look so cute, y’know?”

Harry took the fabric of her satin dress in between his fingers and felt it, his index finger slowly rubbing against the soft part of her thigh. 

“Thank you,” was all she managed to squeak out. He dropped the fabric from his fingers, and she wanted to protest because she wanted to feel his fingers against her. She hadn’t realized how much you could crave someone until you’re one Sex on the Beach in, and then the realization that he knew just how much she ogled him in his office kicked in. 

“You didn’t tell me you were coming here tonight because you didn’t want me to know you were with your boyfriend?” His tone was teasing, but she thought just for a second that’s how he was playing it off. Like he wanted confirmation that wasn’t actually the reason and he was fishing for the information. 

She held his gaze momentarily before sputtering out, “I don’t have a boyfriend.” She wanted him to know. No, she needed him to know.

“Then who is that blonde bloke you’ve been snuggling up to?” He questioned, knowing she was telling the truth but he wanted to see her squirm just a little bit. She knew it, too. She could tell by the way his voice sounded that he was just messing with her, he wanted a bit of cat and mouse.

“My friend. We’re best friends, actually, and roommates.” Y/N explained, though her brain was a little bit foggy. Not because of the alcohol, no. Actually, she felt like she was sobered up, and needed a little bit more of her drink to get her back to the floaty place she was at when she was sitting in the booth.

He used his right hand to keep himself sturdy, then checked his surroundings and asked her, “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes,” she breathed out. It was loud, but she felt just fine here with him.

The atmosphere was so wild with smoke filtering through the air, that now they really had no room except practically chest to chest as they spoke. The drink he was sporting in his hand was dark tequila on the rocks, and it made so much sense that he could drink hard liquor as is. He exuded that kind of dominance, the kind that says I enjoy the burn in my throat because it feels nice.

She looked at the drink in her hand, suddenly feeling demure and childish holding a drink the bartender told her was called Sex on the Beach after she asked for something that doesn’t take like alcohol. He noticed her hesitation and the way her eyes flickered between his drink and her own. “Would you like to try it?”

She nodded her head yes, letting him know that she did want to try it. So badly, she wanted to try it. Not because she wanted to taste the tequila, she was sure it wasn’t very good, but because she wanted to taste where his lips pressed against the glass. She could see the subtle fog where he was placing his lips every time he would take a sip. So, he handed her his drink and when she turned the glass and pressed her lips against where they both knew his lips had once been, he murmured a small, “Christ, Y/N.”

The tequila dribbled down her chin, and he used his finger to wipe it up, and as she lowered the drink from her lips, he grazed his index finger over her lips, beckoning for her to open and lick the whiskey she spilled. He didn’t need to coax her, didn’t need to tell her what he wanted, she simply just knew. Her tongue darted out, licking the whiskey from the base of his finger to the tip. He was never really into voyeurism, but he thinks he could take her right here and right now. How did he go from helping her grade papers earlier in the day to pressing her against the wall of a bar with his thigh tense between her legs. They were crossing so many lines, he was crossing so many lines.

“Why are you always cleaning up my face?” She gave him a lazy smile, and her eyes were so innocent.

“Why are you always spilling?” He countered.

He breathed her in, smelling the taste of his whiskey against her lips. He was so close, so close that he could taste her if he really wanted to, so close that she could feel his breath against her face. He decided that he spent too much time thinking about her mouth. About the way her lips parted then closed when she had something to say, but decided not to say anything at all. God, that was so frustrating. He spent so much time thinking about her lips, and the noises that would come from them if he truly could have her that he should just kiss her, right here, right now. “I want to. I really want to,” his voice was low and thick, sultry even.

“Me too,” her voice was small, and once again he was all too aware of the way her legs squeezed his thigh. 

Before he could make a choice he couldn’t take back, he pushed himself away, leaving a foot of space between the pair. “You should go back to your friends,” he didn’t want to sound too harsh, so he gently brushed his fingers against his cheek and grasped the glass of tequila with the palm of his hands. “I’ll see you Monday, Y/N.”

Without a word, she made her way back to her friends, feigning the frustration that was building in his chest. For the rest of the night, she glanced in his direction but he never glanced back at her. Maybe he was feeling guilty. Maybe he thought he was making a big mistake.

When they finally got home, Niall didn’t ask her anything like she thought he would and she was grateful.

___________

It started with an ache low in her belly, then slowly spread to her lower back. As she sat in her second hour of Professor Smith’s class, she laid her head against the coolness of the desk. Y/N was trying not to think of her encounter with Harry the Friday before. Nothing had actually happened so it was fine, there was nothing to worry about. Mallory gave her a sympathetic smile, and once more held out the pamprin pills but Y/N shook her head as she had already taken some just an hour before class started. 

It was almost like she could feel the color draining from her face, nausea turning in her stomach. She wasn’t expecting her period to come this morning after she had stepped foot on campus. There were no signs as she was greeting ready in the morning. No signs when she stepped out of her apartment. The first sign happened when she was walking from the opposite side of campus to Professor Smith’s class. The dull ache weaseled its way into her lower abdomen, causing subtle pain with each step she took. As she continued to walk, her hand found its way to her abdomen, applying warmth and pressure to rid her of the ache but it wasn’t working.

Quickly, she found a bathroom and slipped into a stall, realizing that her period had come sooner than she was expecting it. With a hurried hand, she rummaged through her bag, pulling out an emergency bottle of pamprin and shuffled the pills past her lips, chugging it down with the water bottle tucked into the side pocket of her backpack. 

As soon as she saw Mallory, it was like Mallory could tell she was in an immense amount of pain, because she slung her backpack off of her shoulder and pulled out a bottle of the same pills tucked into a specific pocket of her backpack. Y/N just shook her head, struggling to muster up the words to tell her she had already taken some.

“I think you should leave class a little early. Go to Harry’s class and lay on the couch in the office. There’s no point in staying here, it’s not like you’re able to absorb any of the information while you’re in pain,” Mallory began reasoning with her. As far as she was concerned Mallory didn’t know that Harry and Y/N were so close to kissing at the bar that she could still feel her lips tingling three days later. She didn’t want to go to Harry, and she didn’t want Harry to think she was being dramatic. Y/N wasn’t worried that it would be awkward between her and Harry today, because he was so charming it would have been like Friday never happened, but she was still hesitant. Before she had a chance to think twice another cramp ripped through her, and she was already packing up her backpack and lifting herself from her seat, the dull ache turning into something more sharp and painful as she stood.

It was her intention to slip out the back door, to be as inconspicuous as possible, but her plan to do that was ruined when Professor Smith cleared his throat and called out her name. “Where are you going?”

Y/N didn’t know what to say, she wasn’t keen on telling the whole class that her uterus might fall out of her body if she stayed hunched over in an uncomfortable chair, with the coolness of the desk being the only thing that could soothe her, or that the nausea was building with each second and she might be so low on iron that she vomits all over the floor of the classroom.

The words tumbled out of her mouth like a squeal, “I’m sorry, I’m not feeling too well.”

Professor Smith’s expression remained stoic, not showing any sign of annoyance or even sympathy for the girl standing in pain at the back of the class. Not that she was expecting sympathy, although she was definitely not expecting the next words to fly out of his mouth in front of her silent classmates viewing the exchange between them, “Really, you should stay unless you plan on getting another D on the next test.”

Y/N tried not to look as horrified as she felt, avoiding eye contact with Mallory completely. She failed to mention to her new friend that she was flunking Professor Smith’s class out of sheer embarrassment and the idea that it might get back to Harry, which would be mortifying in itself. 

“I’ll be fine,” was all she managed to say as she slipped from the back door of the classroom. Y/N managed to keep her tears at bay until she heard the door latch behind her, then let the silent tears create warm streams down her cheeks. In one swift motion, she lifted her hood up, concealing her face from the other students as she walked toward Harry’s classroom. 

It wasn’t a far walk, him being in the same department as Smith and all. She contemplated just sitting in a bathroom stall, the sharp pain in her abdomen and lower back was still going strong and the nausea stirring in her belly was still persistent, but the public humiliation she endured was definitely worse. She decided that the couch in the office was the better option, and if she was going to be sad and in pain, she might as well do it comfortably. 

The plan she concocted was this: She would walk into the room with her eyes glued to the floor and her hood up, ask Harry if it was okay if she laid down for a moment, and without making eye contact with him, she would quickly walk to the room then bury her face in the cushions.

So that is exactly what she did, barely peeking up from her hood.

“Is it okay if I lay down on the couch in the office?” she asked, internally grateful that the sob building in her throat hasn’t raked its way through her body. Another silent tear slid down her cheek, but because she was looking straight down, it splattered against his desk, causing him to cock an eyebrow that she couldn’t actually see. 

It seemed gravity was against her.

“Yeah, yeah. Of course,” his voice was softer than normal, and she heard the sound of his fingers tapping against the desk. 

Without another word, she turned on her heels and bolted toward the office door. Shutting it quickly behind her, she tore off her backpack and curled up into a ball on the couch. 

He didn’t even bother knocking like he normally did. Usually his knuckles would tap against the door, signifying he was about to answer. Not necessarily for permission, but just to give her, or Mallory, a heads up that he would be entering. 

The door locked behind him, but she didn’t look up as she heard the click of his dress shoes against the tile floor. “What’s going on?” He took a seat at the end of the couch she wasn’t occupying, near her head. 

With gentle and delicate fingers, he began to pull her limbs from the ball she had coerced herself into. “Hmmm.. Look at me, darling.” 

And how could she not? When he was asking so sweetly? The sound of his voice was like molten chocolate, or honey dripping straight from the pot. He was wearing her favorite shirt. The satin shirt that exposes his tattoos just a little bit. The same shirt he wore the first time she ever met him, when he caught her staring at his chest a little too much that he buttoned another button and gave her a somewhat disapproving but playful look. She thinks maybe if she could just run her hand over his chest she would forget about the terrible day she was having, but that was inappropriate and she shouldn’t think like that. 

“Oh, sweet thing you are,” his hand brushed a tear that fell from her cheek, “Come on, sit up for me now.”

She obliged, like she always does. As a child she never took a reprimand well, which must have bled into her adult life because she always did what she was told. It was something Harry picked up on rather quickly, she aimed to please, and the psychologist in him really wanted to get to the bottom of it, but the empath in him never wanted to make her uncomfortable by pointing it out. Sometimes he had to make a mental note that she was so receptive to the people around her, he had to choose his words carefully. 

She made a simple noise, between a yelp and a cry before wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve. “In pain,” was all she said.

He reached over, pulling a couple tissues from the end table next to the couch. Harry wrinkled his nose, realizing that it’s not uncommon for students to shed tears in this office, whether it be a student overwhelmed with the course load, or something else. Typically, he’s able to get to the bottom of it, but now he’s got his TA in here with tears streaming like Niagara Falls, and she only says she’s in pain, except he doesn’t believe that’s the full truth. 

Her legs were tucked to the side bunched up, and she leaned on her left arm to support herself up. He didn’t want to pry, or tell her he didn’t think she was being completely honest, because that wouldn’t accomplish anything. Instead, he decided he wouldn’t treat her like a patient, because that’s not what she was to him. She is a graduate student, and he was in her same position just a little under two years ago. He once told her that he wanted her to call him Harry because she felt more like a colleague than a student, so instead, he would treat her like a friend. 

“Let me help you, hm?” His fingers grazed her arm that was supporting her up, his eyes locking with her red rimmed ones. “How can I help?”

And it was almost like she knew if her request crossed a line, he would still grant it because her voice was small but sure when she said, “I just want someone to hold me.”

So, that’s what he did. He pulled her up onto his lap, and grasped her in his arms. Her face nuzzled into the crook of his neck, and he could feel the slow breaths she was taking as the tears finally came to a halt. It was almost like he was holding her back together. If they were crossing lines, he might as well cross one more, “Are you gonna be honest with me now, hm?”

She nodded her head, deciding now was the time to come clean. A weight that was pushing down on her shoulders was about to be lifted and even though she would have a hard time stomaching the embarrassment that came with it, or the look he would give her that might indicate she was stupid, it was time that she just told him. Before Mallory beat her to it, even if she was sure in the deep pit of her gut that Mallory would simply never bring it up. 

Y/N lets out a slow, shaky breath before she begins explaining. “I wasn’t feeling too great when I got to school, and during my second hour of abnormal psych, Mallory told me I should come lay down because the pain was getting really intense, so I decided to slip out the backdoor…” She trailed off, not quite sure how to tell him the rest without having to relieve the situation. Some might say she was being a little dramatic, but she had every right to be upset. He stroked her sides as if to tell her “go on” without explicitly saying the words. 

“As I was walking out Professor Smith asked where I was going and I told him that I wasn’t feeling too well,” the tears pricked once more, “So he said that I should probably stay if I didn’t want to get a D on another test in front of everyone.”

The smooth stroking against her arm came to a halt, and she realized then that he was probably going to chastise her for leaving class too, but his voice was soft when he said, “He said that to you?”

She nodded, even though she could tell the question was rhetorical. Her eyes fluttered closed again, the tips of her eyelashes gently grazing against the crook of his neck.

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart. That is never something you say to a student, especially in front of such a public audience.” His words flowed out, and she sensed the psychologist in him poking out.

“It was really, really embarrassing.” Y/N mumbled into the crook of his neck, and the feel of her lips against his neck made his body slightly tense up.

“Why didn't you tell me you got a D? I probably could have helped you work something out with him.” He reasoned with her, relaxing once more into the back of the couch. The encounter she was having with him right now was so much different than the encounter she had with him on Friday night, but neither of them brought it up.

She shook her head, nuzzling into him further and even though she knew it was inappropriate, she just wanted to breathe him in. They had already crossed those lines.

He wasn’t having it. He hooked his fingers below her chin, and pulled her face from his neck. “Hm? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t tell you because I’ve been flunking his tests all semester. There isn’t one test I got a decent grade on… And I was embarrassed, and I felt like a huge fraud sitting in this room, grading tests and not even understanding the content of them. And I just felt stupid. I didn’t want you to think I was stupid.”

“I would never think you’re stupid, Y/N. Surely you know that. I just wish you would have told me. There’s still time to turn your grade around, you and I will work together so that you start understanding the concepts. We’ll set up tutoring. Sweetheart, you’re so smart.” She knew he tacked on that last part for a little extra validation.

Now that she’s talked it out, she feels a little silly for letting so many tears spill over it. He was right, she wasn’t stupid. She just needed a little extra help, and he was willing to give it. She suddenly felt all too aware of her presence on his lap, and began to move herself off of it. Her eyes catching his lips as she shifted just a little, and the overwhelming urge to kiss him took over once more. If she could, she would grab his face then and there and plant one on him, but it felt demure and childish to lust in that way, even with Friday night playing in the back of her mind.

As if he could read the thoughts swimming through her brain, he brought his fingers to her lips and gently tugged at the pout. His fingers trailed down her jaw, and caressed an area of her neck. Her breathing began to pick up as her heart thumped against her ribcage. Sure, he would touch her every now and again when she was working alongside him, and as much as she wanted it to be intimate, it was never like this. She was almost halfway off his lap when he brought his lips— so soft, so gentle, and so pink— against her cool ones, leaving a slight tingling sensation behind. 

He gently pulled away, a sultry look dancing across his features. She felt the heat on her cheeks as she stared down into his lap, finally shifting herself completely off of his lap. When she looked up at him, she could tell the flush in his cheeks was not the same as the flush in hers. It was more desire than anything.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he breathed, his eyes fluttering closed with the end of his sentence.

No, no. Y/N didn’t want him to feel that way. He may have been a professor, but he wasn’t actually her professor, and they were so close in age. Surely if they were doing something wrong, it would have felt wrong. Last Friday would have felt wrong too, but it didn’t. If this wasn’t okay then it wouldn’t have felt so right, like his lips were made just for her and only her. “I wanted it.”

“I know you did,” he explained. “It was a vulnerable moment. It can’t happen again.”

She simply nodded in agreement, although she wanted to argue with him, even if it wasn’t in her nature to be so combative. Something washed over her because in that moment, the ache that was stabbing in her lower back didn’t matter, she just wanted to stomp her foot on the ground and tell him that wasn’t fair, but the worst part about it is that he would agree with her. That they had already beat the boundary down with a baseball bat. The moment he slipped his thigh in between her legs and pressed her against the wall of a bar, the boundary had vanished. When he brought his finger to her lips and she licked so slowly, so sensually, the boundary had been gone completely. How can they decide to put it back now? How could she when she finally knew what he tasted like. He knew it wasn’t fair to do that, but it shifted her feelings from sadness over her poor grades and the hostile situation she had just come from to placing her frustration toward him, and that was something he could deal with.

He stood up, a sudden aloofness filling the room. It was almost as if the tension was so thick it was banging on the doors and pushing at the windows to find its way out. Like he could feel its desperation to exit the room, he hooked his finger in the door knob and flung it open, cool air infiltrating the room and brushing over Y/N’s body.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, swiveling the chair near his desk around to face her. She knew he wasn’t talking about the kiss, the ever-so-soft-he-probably-didn't-mean-it-an unfriendly-way-kiss, he was talking about her cramps.

She held her lower belly, his eyes averting from how her hand slipped down her stomach and held, “Better. I think the pamprin is finally kicking in.”

“Good,” he offered a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and she wanted to pull her eyelashes out if the tension between them was going to cause a drift in their relationship, er? Friendship?

Y/N didn’t know what else to say, she didn’t want to make things more awkward than they already felt for her. Without looking at him directly, she gestured toward her shared desk with Mallory and made a slight shrugging motion with her shoulders. “Since I’m here I should probably just start working on what I’ll be starting in an hour anyway.”

He got up from the chair, and nodded in agreement. The aloofness was beginning to dissipate, as he offered up a grin that finally met his green eyes again. That’s the grin she looked forward to every single afternoon, though she didn't think she would ever be able to work up the courage to tell him. If there is one thing Harry picked up on in the short two months of her assisting him, she worked off of praise. The simplest thing, even just neatly organizing her and Mallory’s pens in a cup was something he would recognize and give her a thumbs up or mumble an appreciative wow, it looks great, Y/N, so that is what he was going to continue to do.

“You’re so efficient,” he praised, “But I don’t want you to start if you’re not feeling completely better yet. Why don’t you just take an hour or so to lay down, hm?”

Even though she wanted to start her work right away, she knew he was right and was only looking out for her, so she mumbled a small “okay” in a very reluctant tone.

He took a few steps in the direction toward the classroom and out of the office before quickly turning around and asking her a question he did not want to forget, “When are you available for tutoring?”

She wanted to tell him to just forget about it, and that she didn’t need his help as the pride twisted and turned in her brain, but she had a strong feeling that he was going to be disappointed in her if she said, forget it, and Y/N didn’t know if she could handle much more disappointment from the people around her in one day.

“Every day after I finish here, I’m free,” her words were small and slow as they fell from her lips.

“That’s perfect, after school we can either sit in here and work or the library, or even my flat if you’re not feeling comfortable in the library,” he listed quite a few options, then finally walked out of the office and shut the door behind him, leaving Y/N to her thoughts.

Her fingers slowly touched her lips, trying to remember the feeling of his lips against hers. She didn’t want to forget any details. His woodsy cologne filled her nostrils, and she could almost see that alluring look swimming in his eyes.

To put it plainly, she just wanted to scream in frustration.

___________

Harry was so screwed and he knew it from the second she stepped foot in the door of his classroom. The way her eyes averted from his and toward the plain wall behind him, the way she marveled at the tattoos that peaked from the tops of shirts (which he realized he would show them off more now, just so he could catch her lingering gaze and watch her quickly look away in embarrassment. Maybe it said something about him, but he loved to watch her become flustered), or the way her hand trembled just barely as she handed him the paper which confirmed she was his assistant that first day.

When he saw her at the bar on Friday night and the way her body responded to him, the way she was just so eager to please, he knew the thoughts he was having weren’t just one-sided. It was hard to get her off of his mind, he hadn’t experienced this kind of attraction in a long while. The psychologist in him tried to reason that it was because it felt somewhat forbidden— even though the school rules didn’t go completely against it, she just couldn’t TA for him anymore or ever take a class with him as her professor— he knew it was much more than that.

She spoke eloquently, her walk was captivating, her smile was innocent, and she just felt good to him. He thinks maybe whoever created the flowers that grew in the crevices of sidewalk, creating beauty in the most absurd places, possibly made her too. She was just like that, a captivating flower amongst the mundane world around her, blooming to the best of her ability and relying on the sunshine that sometimes came and went.

She was just special to him.

thinking about how priest!harry would fuck y/n in a church without hesitation.

she would be pressed against the stage, her head tilted back to stare at the cross above them. harry would be snug between her thighs, cock aching inside her as he thrusts in and out of her. her walls clenching around him, she would cry out from how good it feels.

he would be so sick. sick enough to drag a wooden cross down her chest, right between her breasts as he fucks into her. or use it to press against her throat to cut off her airflow.

"father harry, p-please, i can't--it feels so good," she would cry out, her toes curling as his hard cock rutted up into her dripping wet pussy. harry would smirk at the formal name, his fingers trailing down her stomach to watch her goosebumps raise.

"call out my name, darling, let the angels hear you," his hips would snap harder into her, his hands clasping around her thighs as he held her hips to his to bury his cock into her.

"g-god! oh my god!" she would cry out, grasping at the low carpeting on the stage as her back arched. she would feel herself nearly there, ready to release all over his cock.

"mmmm, wrong name, but i'll take it," he would chuckle out.

my bday just got a whole lot better🥵🥵🥵🥵 HIS PANTS ARE UNDONE I CAN'T

Double Booked H.S

Summary: On a business trip gone wrong, you get stuck in a room with your least favourite person. To make it worse... there's only one bed. OR, a classic enemies-to-lovers one-bed trope fic with bickering and laughs and smut to go along with it.

Warning: smut. oral (f & m receiving), penetration, dirty talk, spanking

Word count: 9k+

Author’s note: This is based off a very helpful suggestion by @daydreaming-laur so thank youuuu! I'm really excited about this one because I think the banter is good, so I hope you all enjoy it too! Thank you so much to those who joined my Patreon and read it already! Happy Reading ❤️

- Find my General Masterlist here -

“What are you talking about!? We booked these rooms four months ago, and suddenly you’re double booked! How does that work?” you exclaimed, trying so hard not to get angry at the guy behind the hotel check-in desk but failing miserably. He wasn’t the one to book your rooms or room more like it all those months ago, but he just happened to be right there in your line of fire.

You just couldn’t help it. Not when you were on a business trip that you didn’t want to be on with a man you couldn’t stand. 

Every cell of your body hated Harry Styles. He was a smug prick who just loved to make your life a living hell with his pet names and snide comments and a superiority complex so fucking huge you couldn’t hit it with a truck and deflate it. 

It was like his head was so far up his own ass he just went deaf any time someone tried to knock him down a peg. The only fault he ever acknowledged to you was not having a ‘second dick’ so he could ‘make more women scream at the same time’. Safe to say the look on his face when you ‘accidentally’ spilt your coffee on his Yve St. Laurant suit after that comment was one you’d never forget. 

“Yeah, this has got to be some mistake.” Harry butted in, eyeing you a little as he stepped forward to stand way too close to your side. 

He wasn’t happy with sharing a room with you either. As much as he loved to push your buttons, your snippy attitude and eye rolls got him so fucking annoyed he couldn’t stand the idea of being stuck in the same room as you all weekend.

You were just so… uptight. Always dressed without a hair out of place and way too organised. Your desk was some neat freak’s dream. Every pen had a place, every paper was perfectly aligned. Your folders were ordered just so and he once saw your computer files and wanted to gouge his eyes out at how every document had a number or code to file them like the folders themselves weren’t organised enough. 

You were never late and never nice to him and it irked him up the damn wall. You were practically best friends with everyone else in the office yet when it came to him you could barely look at him let alone have a conversation.

Harry could admit that he hated the fact you didn’t like him above all your other dislikeable qualities. Being organised (albeit in a borderline obsessive way) could be a positive if you ever smiled at him instead of just glaring anytime he was in your line of vision.

“Ugh, don’t act like it would be so terrible to room with me.” you spat, rolling your eyes at Harry’s irritation. You crossed your arms over your chest, tired and grumpy from your flight and just wanting to nap before your company dinner tonight. “At least I’d keep it clean, you, however, would probably spread mono just by putting your toothbrush near mine” 

He inhaled a sharp breath, his jaw tense like he wanted to say something but decided not to. Sometimes he wished he could just shut your mouth for you, so you’d give him a little peace and quiet for once in your existence. 

Harry could think of a few ways to stuff that pretty mouth of yours. Unfortunately for you, he preferred the more obedient type in bed, and he had a pretty good idea that you liked to run your mouth in the bedroom as well as out. 

He wasn’t one to like a brat. He preferred a good submissive boy or girl. Though… maybe if you let him fuck you, you’d stop acting like you had a stick up your ass. 

“Ignore her.” Harry ignored your comment and spoke to the guy instead, flashing a dashing smile on his lips. “She’s a bit sensitive this time of month… if you know what I mean” he alluded, looking at you briefly and appearing ecstatic at the irritation on your face. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Oh I am going to slap your stupid-” you started, getting too riled up too fast. A period joke? Really? 

“I’m really sorry!” the hotel clerk jumped in, clearly panicked by you two bickering. “It definitely is a mistake on our part and I’m more than happy to refund you for the extra room and offer you some bar vouchers for the trouble”

“Look…” Harry looked down to the name badge pinned to the clerk’s chest, “Richard, that is a kind offer but what I’d really like is another room. So how much is it?” he patted his jacket pockets and then his jeans back pockets to find his wallet, fishing it out in preparation to just fork out however much it would cost.

He’d just send the invoice to your boss and get him to pay him back later. It wasn’t a big deal really, as long as you two got your own rooms. Maybe he’d even get upgraded and you could have the sucky, bare minimum room your company decided was good enough. 

Your irritating personality wasn’t the only reason Harry wanted his own space. A company-paid trip interstate to a fancy hotel meant an equally as fancy bar, and some poor lonely gorgeous man or woman needing someone to take their mind off whatever problems they had. Harry could be that person, in fact, he loved to be that person.

He loved to be the distraction, the fantasy, the man whose face would be plagued in wet dreams and whose name would be threatening to spill instead of whoever they decided to sleep with after him. He liked to be an infection in his partner’s mind, to fuck them so good they’d never find someone else who satisfied them like he did. 

And he couldn't really be a wet dream with you hanging around like a wet sock, could he? 

For the first time since you met Harry, you actually agreed with something he said. “Yeah…” you trailed off, glaring at him. “What he said. How much is it, even for an upgrade?” 

“Oh um, I don’t think you two are understanding me. There are no rooms available for this weekend.” Richard seemed a little nervous now, clearly reading the irritated vibe you two were giving off.

“None?” you blinked, shocked and also a little panicked as the reality of the situation started to sink in.

“None at all? Like not even the presidential suite?” Harry gaped, also surprised.

“Like you could afford the presidential suite on your salary” you scoffed, looking away. He did that sharp intake again and you found yourself smiling a little in satisfaction. 

“Yes. None at all. We’re hosting a conference this weekend so we’re fully booked… or, double booked, unfortunately.” 

“We know, Richard. We’re going to the damn conference” you snapped, sighing and running your fingers through your hair before rubbing your eyes. “So what are we meant to do, find another hotel?” 

“I don’t think that’ll be possible either, ma’am,” Richard responded apologetically. 

“Ma’am” Harry snorted under his breath while shaking his head, making you let out a huff. 

“Why?”

“There’s a big concert this weekend at the same time, between that and the country-wide conference, all the other hotels will be booked out as well. You could try Motel 6?” he offered a friendly smile, too friendly… like he was actually enjoying your misery.

“I don’t know about you sweetheart, but I’m not going to Motel 6” Harry turned to you like he was expecting you to go to Motel 6. 

“I’m not going to Motel 6! I’ll probably get kidnapped then trafficked!” you exclaimed, shivering at the thought of being in a dingey motel like that. You’ve seen criminal minds, like four times and no one staying in a Motel 6 ever leaves alive. “Have you seen criminal minds, Harry?”

“I have” he responded, almost proudly. “You’d probably be safe anyway, sweetheart. They’d see your ass and want you, but after you open your mouth they’d return you and pay the police to keep you away from them” he grinned, winking. 

That time you actually did slap his arm, but nowhere near as hard as he deserved.

“So… would you two like one key or two?” Richard asked, interrupting again. 

“Two.” you responded quickly so Harry wouldn’t jump in before you “And I need double bar vouchers”

//

“You better not snore” you walked ahead of him, trying to beat Harry to the door of your shared hotel room. 

This was going to be a weekend from hell, you already knew it. But your two bar vouchers were safe in your pocket and you planned to use both up to their full advantage. Hopefully, there’s a happy hour. You prayed for a happy hour. 

“I should be the one saying that” Harry chuckled, “With your perfect clothes and perfect hair and I’m sure you’ve organised your suitcase perfectly, a little imperfection would do you good” 

“It will honestly be a miracle if I don’t kill you before this trip is over.” You shook your head, inserting the key into the reader then pushing the door open once it unlocked. 

“Or maybe little miss perfect is a sleepwalker, wouldn’t that be hilarious” he laughed to himself and followed you in, barely catching the door as you let it nearly slam shut onto him. There was no way you were holding it open for him. 

“Yeah, just fucking hila-oh fuck off.” Your eyes widened when you got past the bathroom door to the main area of the suite, your eyes widened at the sight before you and you stopped right in the middle of the small hall. “Oh god no this can’t be happening”

“What? What-oh. Oh, this is fantastic!” Harry laughed loudly, pushing past you with his bag and dumping it on the bed before he collapsed backwards onto it. 

One bed. There was one queen-sized bed in the middle of the room. 

You didn’t know why the possibility of having to share a bed didn’t cross your mind before, but you kinda just assumed that it would be two single beds. And now that you not only had to share a room but a bed with Harry? You wanted the ground to swallow you up. 

“God hates me. He hates me” you muttered to yourself, forcing yourself to move forwards and set your bag neatly in the corner of the room.

“I bet you're loving this, aren’t you sweetheart? Can’t wait to share a bed with me, can you? Get all cuddled up and close” Harry taunted, propping himself up on his elbows to watch you open your bag. 

You really did have a nice ass. Seeing you bent over your bag like that was almost riling Harry up. Almost. If your ass wasn’t attached to such a painful and vanilla woman he might’ve tried to take advantage of the bed situation.

Alas, looks like he was just going to have to go to his conquest’s hotel room tonight. After the company dinner, he planned to take his bar voucher and find someone pretty to be inside by the end of the night. It was a solid plan, he thought. 

“Hah!” you laughed bitterly, focused on getting some comfy clothes and your toiletry bag out of your small suitcase. You needed a shower as soon as possible then a good hour or two nap before you’d have to get ready for dinner. “Like you think I’m actually sharing the bed with you l. You’re going on the floor” 

“Yeah right” Harry snorted. “There’s no way I’m sacrificing my sleep and my back for you. We’re both adults, we can share without getting inappropriate”

“Harry” you sighed, standing up straight and turning to face him. You took a few steps forward and his eyes dragged over you in curiosity. “I would rather gouge my eyes out than have sex with you. Just so we’re clear” you flashed a fake smile then stormed to the bathroom before shutting and locking the door.

By the time you got out of the shower, Harry was gone. His travelling clothes were thrown on the bed and he left his bag open. On top of the bag was a box of condoms, open and a couple clearly missing. 

Gross. Ugh, you hoped whatever woman with exceptionally poor taste kept him all night, or all weekend more like it. If he only made it back to change you’d be happy as anything. 

The fact that he brought condoms in the first place was uncomfortable, even more that he left them on top of his bag like some presentation to prove he had sex or something. You could’ve been reading into it, but something told you he was just trying to weasel his way into your head. 

Fucker.

You went and closed the curtains, preparing the room for your nap before heading back to bed. You didn’t really want to touch Harry’s clothes, knowing they had been on his body but he conveniently dumped them right in the middle of the bed. 

There was no way you were contorting your body and having an uncomfortable sleep because of his stupid clothes. So you used the decorative pillow to push them to the side of the bed so you could have room to sleep properly.

Once you climbed in bed though, that exhaustion you had suddenly disappeared and you were wide awake. Because all you could smell was Harry. His cologne was fresh with a hint of spice, a deep seductive smell that you liked way too much.

There were only two qualities you liked about Harry, or rather, hate that you liked. His appearance was annoyingly one of them because unfortunately for you, Harry Styles was probably one of the most attractive people you had ever seen. Possibly one of the most attractive men on the planet. 

The downside of that was that he knew it and it only fed into his giant ego when all he had to do was flash a little smile or run his hand through his luscious hair and he could get basically whatever he wanted. Superiority complex? Check.

The other quality that you hated that you liked, was how he smelt. He was one of those men you got a whiff of when they walked by but in a delicious and arousing way. Harry smelt like sex on legs, like a man you just wanted to ravage.

So the room was already full of his cologne, and the bedding was saturated in it from when he laid down earlier. It was distracting and worse of all, it had a heartbeat growing between your legs.

You shuffled around a bit, squeezing and shifting your legs and groaning when you couldn't settle because all you could think about was Harry’s mouth and his neck and what that gorgeous cologne would taste like on his skin. Probably alcohol, but it was nice to imagine that his skin tasted as good as he smelt. 

Nice… it was nice to imagine? No, it was fucking irritating. Because now you were horny, uncomfortably horny and to the thought of one of your least favourite people on the planet.

A drink. A drink is exactly what you needed.

No napping could save you and you refused to touch yourself in the same bed you’d have to share with the object of your desires. 

So you got up and started getting dressed instead, both for the luxurious bar downstairs and your work dinner later tonight. A few drinks would seriously take the edge off and hopefully get rid of the wetness between your legs.

It was a casual work dinner, at least casual in the sense you didn’t have to dress business professional for it. Everyone from your office invited to the conference was meeting at one of the nice restaurants at the casino attached to the hotel for drinks and dinner before the conference started in the morning.

It was an opportunity to relax and unwind, and to dress up for the first time in a while. Unfortunately, your good work friends weren’t on the trip, which would’ve helped avoid this whole room mess. But there were other women who you were friendly with, not exceptionally close, but enough to coordinate outfits and see what the vibe would be.

You went with a short strapless dress, black and a-line with a leather blazer that you’d put on for dinner after you had a few drinks. It was still a work dinner after all and showing off your legs was enough. 

After doing some makeup and grabbing your bag, you went searching for your drink vouchers. You left them on the bedside table, two perfectly useable vouchers that had your name written on them. Not literally, but they were yours.

Yet when you looked there, they were nowhere to be seen. 

“They were right here!” you groaned, looking over to the other bedside table to see if you mixed up the tables. But no, you were sure you left them there. 

After looking all over the room, there was no other explanation as to where they had gone except in the back pocket of that slimy motherfucker whose stuff he left all over your bed. Oh, now you were pissed. Harry could steal your bed and infect your room with his cologne, but your drinks vouchers? 

That fucker had two of his own, $100s worth between the vouchers just like you had. So now he was prancing around the hotel with $200s worth of free drinks to get his dick sucked? Not on your watch.

You were in the lift before you knew it and as soon as you reached the bar floor you were on a mission to find that son of a bitch. You heard his laugh before you saw him, which made it easy to spot him sitting at the bar beside a gorgeous blonde with that dashing smile on his mouth. 

He was working way too hard and she was liking him way too much. There were two drinks on the bar behind them and the sight made your blood boil way too much. Those drinks were paid with your voucher, you fucking knew it.

“You gave me mono, you asshole!” you exclaimed once you were in earshot, both Harry and his date immediately looking at you. Harry’s eyes were wide and he looked pissed, while the girl just looked shocked. “Look, I wouldn’t be a gal's gal if I didn’t save you from making a huge mistake” you addressed the girl, “I slept with him and now I have mono and I’d hate for you to be next. He’s a walking STD” then you brought your fist up to your mouth and faked a cough, “See? Mono.” 

She looked disgusted, “Asshole” she spat at him before giving you a thankful nod and storming away from the two of you. 

“What the fuck, y/n!?” 

“Was this drink bought with my drink voucher?” you asked with a smile, cocking your head while sliding into the chair the blonde had been inhabiting. You stirred her unfinished drink with the straw and shoved your bag and jacket onto your lap, looking at him expectantly. 

Except he was just staring at you, eyes dark as he scanned your body. It had you shifting in your chair. His gaze was almost seductive and hot. Your body was warming up and you weren’t sure how to deal with his attention like this. 

The moment you sat down Harry’s anger disappeared completely. Because… well fuck. That dress was doing something for you, a lot for you actually. And your hair was down and all wavy, your eyes dark with shadow and you had this lipgloss on that made your lips look so irresistible he had this sudden craving to shut you up with his mouth instead of his dick.

And your legs… when he angled his head just right he could see past the jacket on your lap and all the way up your outer thigh to where your dress was barely covering anything. 

This outfit made all your irritating qualities suddenly disappear into thin air. He was pissed you sabotaged a hookup that was going marvellously, but seeing you look like that? Well, maybe you two would be using your bed for something other than sleeping. 

“Maybe… thought I'd have a better use for them than you did. I’m sure you’d much rather be reading some stock report than drinking and actually enjoying yourself… though, dressed like that maybe I’m wrong” he smirked, purposely cocking his head so he could see up the side of your leg. 

You shifted uncomfortably, not because you didn’t like the way he was staring at you, but because you did. It was turning you on again and you found yourself fighting the urge to down the blonde’s drink.

“You saw me ask Richard for the vouchers, you dick! And if it wasn’t for me you’d only be getting one not two. So be thankful and give them back.” You held your hand out expectedly, waiting for him to give you your vouchers so you could try and use them at the rooftop bar instead. 

You just needed to be far far away from Harry as soon as humanly possible.

“I can be thankful in another way” he suggested, leaning in a little while resting his elbow on the bar top and propping his chin up by his fist. He flashed you major flirty eyes and extended his left tattooed arm so his fingers could graze against your knee.

You jerked it away, feigning disgust to cover up your attraction to him. Though… he probably already knew. Harry had a talent of spotting people interested in him, which was most of the population. 

So yeah, the second your breath hitched at his offer he knew the door was ajarred just enough for him to wiggle his way through. 

“Don’t be disgusting. If your lovely personality wasn’t enough, who knows where your dick has been” you snapped, looking away from him.

He laughed loudly and shook his head before running his hand through his hair. “If I didn’t know you hated me, I’d think you were flirting” 

You couldn’t lie, that was a bit funny. A smile quirked at your lips, but you quickly covered it up with a straight face and a little cough. “Ah! I saw that” he pointed, happy that he got you to crack. Maybe you only had a small stick up your ass instead of a foot long one like he thought. 

“Just give me the vouchers Harry. So we can go our separate ways until we’re forced to go to dinner together.” You held your hand out, but he made no effort to dig out the vouchers from his pocket.

After a few moments of silence he spoke up, “How about a drink instead? My shout?” then he got the vouchers from his pocket, all three since he already used one, and slammed them on the bar. 

That fucker. 

Still… you couldn’t help but be curious about his suggestion. 

“Fine, one drink”

//

“So, do you really hate me?” Harry asked, nursing his third drink of the night. He picked whiskey, something he could sip on that wouldn’t get him too dizzy. He wanted to be happy, not sloshed. Besides… he was still thinking about parting your pretty legs and he couldn’t do that if he was intoxicated. 

“Hah! That’s funny, you’re funny. Are you seriously asking me that question?” you laughed, sipping your drink.

“Yes I’m seriously asking you that question. You seem to love everyone in the office except me, why is that?” he cocked his head and seemed to be genuine in his question. Though, you didn’t know why he cared whether you liked him or not.

“Harry, your ego is the size of the moon and you are single handedly the most arrogant man I have ever met. Your attitude is poor and you expect everyone to worship the ground you walk on just because you have a pretty face. So yeah, maybe I don’t like you. But not everyone has to like you” you shrugged. Your tone wasn’t vicious or cruel, you were just being honest. 

“You’re not exactly a ray of sunshine yourself, y/n.” he replied dryly, getting irritated again. That urge to shut your pretty mouth built up in him again, but this time he wanted you to choke a little while he did it. 

“What’s that supposed to mean!?” you exclaimed, feeling a little insulted at his insinuation. You were a huge fucking ray of sunshine thank you very much, to everyone but him.

“You’re bossy, uptight and have control issues. You’re suspiciously way too put together so you definitely have daddy issues or some unresolved childhood trauma that makes you act like you have a stick up your ass” he flashed a fake smile, but it was barely there before you slapped him hard against the face. 

You were shocked at your own actions and quickly stood up, staring between him and your hand with wide eyes. Everyone in the bar looked at you two and the security guard was walking fast towards you. 

“I-” 

“I didn’t mean half of that” Harry piped up, completely unphased by your slap. But he was phased by the angry-looking security guard definitely walking over to you to kick you out. “But we need to go. Now”

He grabbed the remaining drink voucher off the bar then grabbed your hand, pulling you after him as he started jogging out the other bar entrance into the casino. 

“What are you doing!?” You hissed, running with him because you didn’t really have a choice, nor did you want to get caught by that security guard. 

“Making sure you don’t get us kicked out of this hotel! We’re in the same room, remember? You get kicked out, I get kicked out” he said over his shoulder, ducking around a slot machine. You yelped and ducked too, looking over your own shoulder to see the security guard gone. 

“Okay, okay! He’s gone!” You yelped, pulling free from him and stopping. You panted and pressed your hands to your knees. Harry stopped as well and noted your position, immediately stepping behind you. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure no one sees your ass. Your dress is short and you don’t seem to care one bit” he breathed, feeling a bit breathless himself. Oh… that was kinda nice? Kinda. 

“Please, like you care” you panted, “you only ran away to save yourself” 

“And you! I could’ve left you there, sweetheart. Start acting thankful” he mocked your words from before which made you shoot up and face him. 

“God you are just such hard work, Harry!” 

“So are you.” He stepped closer, challenging you with his eye contact. “You know maybe I did mean some of the shit I said.” He stepped even closer, so close his chest brushed to yours and you were forced to tilt your head back to maintain eye contact. You could feel his breath fan your face, and despite how angry he seemed, you couldn’t help but get turned on at his clenched jaw and hazy eyes. 

“You are uptight and have control issues.” He spat every word and your breath got caught in your chest at his tone. You hated being spoken down to and it made you grow hot quickly, feeling a little embarrassed and angry at his opinion of you. “You could at least say thank you for saving your ass, but no. Because it was my idea to run away and not yours, you don’t care.”

The tension was growing, like the anger you both held towards each other was morphing into something else. 

“Is that what this is then? Your poor little ego being bruised by an uptight control freak not getting on her knees to thank you? Are you that obsessed with me that you need my valida-” 

You didn’t get a chance to finish your sentence before he was cupping your jaw with both hands and his mouth was kissing yours. You were stunned at first, shocked that Harry fucking Styles was kissing you. 

But after that initial shock, you kissed back. And oh fuck was it a good kiss. With one hand keeping your jacket to your chest, the other fisted his tank while you got up a little on your tippy toes to deepen it. 

Harry’s mouth moved expertly and so hot you could’ve cried. His large hands were cupping your jaw then one started sliding lower until it was loosely wrapped around the front. Oh did that action have you whimpering. 

“Just shut up, y/n. Please for the love of God, shut. up.” He groaned, breaking the kiss and looking at you darkly. His eyes were blown with lust and his lips were already swollen. What you’d give to have him give you that same look from between your legs. 

“Make… me” you challenged, releasing his tank then running your hand up his chest to the cross necklace. You fiddled with it, waiting for him to respond. 

“Challenge accepted” he smirked. 

Then he grabbed your hand and dragged you around the place again. He walked with purpose, straight to the lift up to your floor and suite. 

The moment you were in the confines of your suite, Harry’s hands were back on your face and you two were kissing like it would somehow make all your anger towards each other disappear. You were tugging off his blazer and he was grabbing yours and your bag and shoving it to the floor. 

His hands roamed your body, grabbing your hips and your waist and everywhere he could while you two messily walked backwards into the room. 

“Oh my god!” He gasped, in shock when his eyes opened and he looked at the room. 

You were in the middle of tugging his tank top out of his pants to get him naked. You were already having a field day with his arms on display, all tatted and muscly. His bicep honestly looked like the perfect necklace and you wanted him to wrap his entire arm around your neck. 

You had never seen all his tattoos before. You saw a few peeking out of his dress shirts, but never completely bare and delicious. Those two swallows showcased by his slutty little tank top were making you feral.

And for a work dinner too? What did he wear on a date or just in his everyday life? With a little tug, his whole nipple was exposed. Did he go bare tits on the daily? 

But then he gasped and it gave you a bit of a fright, immediately thinking someone broke in and stole stuff or ransacked the place. 

“What? What!?” You turned around quickly, looking around the room in a panic but seeing nothing out of the ordinary. “What are you talking about?”

“The mess! Look at your makeup everywhere, y/n. Could you not have cleaned up after? And here I thought you were ocd about cleanliness” He was just egging you on and trying to get a rise out of you and when you turned to slap his chest he had the cheekiest expression on his face. 

“God, we’re literally about to have sex and you’re still pissing me off!” You groaned, but your hand never landed because he caught your wrist before it could. 

“Oh, we’re about to have sex? Since when?” He acted shocked and you were about to walk out of the hotel room. 

“Harry I swear to God” 

“I just love seeing you all riled up, sweetheart. It’s fucking hot, to be honest” he grinned, letting go of your wrist to grab onto the hem of your dress. 

“Is that why you act like a child on a daily basis?” You asked, lifting your arms up so he could pull your dress off. You didn’t wear a bra because your dress was tight enough to provide support to your boobs. 

Being stood there like that… in only your underwear and heels while he was still fully clothed was like being a sacrificial lamb to a lion. His gaze was deep and hungry and he lazily dragged his eyes over your body like he was trying to memorise every inch of it. 

You wore this tiny little black lace g-string that made his mouth water and your breasts were just so fucking pretty he wanted to grab them and run his mouth all over them. Your nipples were hard from arousal, and if he looked close enough your underwear was soaked through with it too. 

And at the beginning of the day, he thought you’d be the wet sock to ruin his wet dream. Yet he was completely wrong. You were a wet dream personified, and he was a happy participant. 

“It’s one of my many motives…” he mumbled, almost like he didn’t care about this little rivalry between you two. “Jesus Christ, y/n” he cursed, grabbing your waist and pulling you forward to kiss you again. He wrapped his arms around your body and you wrapped yours around his neck, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging hard enough to make him moan. 

“Y’know, that slap of yours was kinda hot” he spoke between kisses, grabbing your hips and walking you backwards to the bed. 

“Yeah? I can slap you again? Maybe knock a few teeth out” you suggested, pulling his tank top off with a little help from him. Your eyes landed straight on his abs, chiseled and littered with dark hairs that made you want to scream. Then your eyes went lower to his hard cock, long and thick through his pants. God did you just want him to fuck you so hard with it you couldn’t walk straight after. “Could slap you here… make it hurt?”

You made eye contact again and grabbed him through his pants, eliciting a hiss as the back of your legs hit the bed. “I thought you were this sweet little vanilla girl. That’s not it at all, is it?” he rose a brow then 

grabbed the front of your neck and pushed you gently, making you fall back onto the bed and support yourself with your hands. 

Harry figured you were a brat, but more in a mouthy ‘I hate you’ kinda way, not in a kinky way. But with the way you were acting, your little miss perfect routine seemed to just be the surface of your personality.

“If you think I’m gonna call you Daddy, you’re delusional.” You stuck your leg out, pressing your heeled foot to the centre of his abs. 

He looked down and grabbed your ankle, his touch soft enough to send shivers down your spine. It was like your entire body reacted to him. His smell, his stare, his touch. It all drove you absolutely wild. 

“Sir?” he smirked, removing your heel while sliding his other hand up your calf. You were quick to change feet, pressing your other to his chest instead. 

“No chance. You gonna call me Mommy? Since you seem to crave my validation?” you ran your tongue over your teeth, gasping when he dropped your leg and grabbed your neck roughly. This time he dug his fingers a little into the sides of your esophagus, making a euphoric woozy feeling float into your brain.

“What I’m going to do is shut you up like I was challenged to” he leaned in and pulled you closer at the same time, making you sit up straighter. “Now get on your knees, sweetheart.”

He pressed a firm kiss on your mouth then pushed you back so he could undo the button of his pants and remove them. You did as instructed and got on your knees on the bed, scooching back so you had room to bend down and reach his dick. 

You were quite excited to be honest, but you didn’t want him to know that. 

“I hate when you call me that” you muttered, sitting back on your feet. 

Harry kicked his shoes off then tucked his thumbs into his dress pants and underwear, shoving them down until they fell to the floor. 

Your eyes widened at the sight of his cock, all hard and heavy. Fuck. He was trimmed at the base and his cock was angrily pink at the tip, like it was painful in the confines of his pants. 

His comment about wanting a second dick to please more women made sense now, unfortunately. As cocky as it was, he really did have a pretty cock, one you actually wanted to taste and please and bring down your throat. 

“You shouldn’t have told me that, sweetheart. Now I’m gonna have to use it all the time” he gathered your hair and grabbed it in a ponytail, guiding your mouth to his. He kissed you firmly before tugging your hair back so it broke and he was staring right at you. “Now are you gonna be a good girl f’me and suck my cock?”

“You wish.” You scoffed, letting him guide you down towards his cock. He wasn’t pushing or being rough, just giving you space to move in his grip. “I’m only sucking you off because I want to, not because you’re asking me to” 

You spat into your hand then wrapped it around his base, eliciting a throaty groan that made you satisfied that he was so easy to please. Men usually were. The moan was like music to your ears too, and you just wanted to make more of them. 

“You really are revealing all sorts of things tonight, y/n. Saying that you like my pet name for you… admitting that you want to suck me-fuck…” he cursed, mouth gaping when you licked a stripe up the underside of his length then swirled your tongue around his tip. “…off”

“Mhmm” you replied, bringing his cock halfway into your mouth so he’d whimper a little before pulling back. “But I also distinctly remember you threatening to shut me up. You’re talking too much for that to happen” you grinned before flicking your tongue along his slit. You maintained eye contact the whole time, moaning a little at the taste of his pre-cum. 

“I did, didn’t I?” he smirked, gripping your hair tighter and making you whimper at the pain. But you liked it, that tight almost burning feeling on your scalp. “Keep your mouth open.”

He tucked his thumb into your chin and dragged it open, but said nothing else before sliding his cock as deep as he could go until you gagged at how fast he moved. “Not so chatty now, are you sweetheart?”

Harry didn’t give you an opportunity to reply before he was using your head to start thrusting into your mouth. You relaxed as much as you could, eyes closed as tears pricked while you grabbed onto his thighs hard. Your fingers dug into his skin, trying to ground yourself at the sting in the back of your throat. 

But you loved it. 

His noises of pleasure, whimpers, grunts and moans all mixing together was making your head spin. You never thought you’d enjoy what came out of Harry’s mouth, ever. But his moans and dirty talk just itched your brain in the most perfect way and turned you on even more than you already were. 

“You’re so much prettier when you can’t talk, sweetheart. Look so fucking good choking on my cock” he smirked, looking down at you with parted lips and this dark expression in his eyes. 

His abs were contracting and his jaw was tense. He looked mean and cocky and that look of pleasure laced in his expression was killing you. He really was an insanely attractive man. 

It was a bit unfair really. 

You pulled off quickly, panting and smiling up at him while tapping the head of his cock to your stuck out tongue. “I’m not choking yet, maybe your dick isn’t as impressive as you thought it was” it was a teasing comment, one that had anger flash across his face. 

“You’re gonna regret that” 

Then his thumb was tucked into your mouth and forcing it open. He slid his cock right in, forcing down into your throat and thrusting back and forth at a cruel pace. Now you were definitely choking. It was deep and made you feel so full and dizzy your head was spinning. It was a light-headed feeling like nothing else.

The sight of you with makeup running down your face and saliva dripping down onto the bed below that pretty mouth of yours was making him go crazy. He got sick satisfaction from seeing you all stuffed up with his cock, especially when you couldn’t talk back and show off your irritating personality. 

You swallowed around him with purpose, contracting your throat in a way that had him hissing and his thighs shaking like you were sucking the literal soul out of him. 

“Fucking Jesus! Gonna make me cum if you keep doing that” he cursed, which only made you do it again. “Y/n” he warned, pulling your head back so his cock slipped from your mouth. 

“And here I thought you’d be jumping at the chance to cum in my mouth” you smiled, voice a bit rusty. You barely had the chance to wipe the saliva from your face with the back of your hand before he was roughly tugging your head back up to kiss you. 

“I’m sick of trying to shut you up. Clearly nothing works on a brat like you” he snapped, nipping his way down your jaw until he found a spot that he liked and began sucking a mark there. 

You whimpered and scratched your nails against his abs. There was no room to wiggle. His hand was fisted tight in the back of your head and he was creating dizzying pain on your neck. It was a situation where you could only move forward to the bite or his mouth or backward into the grip of his hand. 

You were trapped. Yet so wet and tingly between your legs you had to squeeze your legs together to get some stimulation. Any stimulation. Giving him head was enough to get you going, but now that he was making it hurt you were getting incredibly desperate. 

“Maybe you weren’t trying hard enough” you gasped. 

“No. I think a brat like you just needs to be fucked like a whore to set her straight. That’s all” he said it so matter of factly you almost forgot your own name. Then he was kissing you again, seemingly satisfied with the hickey he created at the base of your neck. “Turn around.” 

He grabbed your ass and slapped it hard then finally let you go, giving you the opportunity to turn around. “I’m going to slap you when we’re done for calling me a whore” you warned, yelping a little when he pressed your face into the duvet by the back of your head. Your ass was sticking up now and your whole body was tense in anticipation of what he’d do. 

You were going to slap him because there were probably hundreds of reasons to slap him. Though, him calling you a whore wasn’t actually one of them. Because being degraded turned you on. If anything, you needed to slap yourself for liking it so much. 

“Sorry. I’ll correct that. My whore. I’ll fuck you like my whore” you could practically hear the smirk in his tone and it sent a shiver through your body when he ran his hands down your back to your hips. His hands were hot but his rings provided cool relief from his burning touch. 

“Like I’ll ever be your anything.” You scoffed, tensing as he pressed a kiss to your ass. He ran his mouth along the small string of your g-string and followed it as he began tugging it down roughly, like he would’ve torn it off if he could’ve. 

“You’ll be thinking differently once I’ve ruined every other fucking man on the planet for you” 

He grinned against your ass then pulled your underwear completely off. Once they were discarded somewhere in the room, he pulled apart your ass cheeks and groaned at the sight. 

You were just so fucking pretty and wet and he wasted no time dragging his fingers through your folds before sliding one into you. It had you gasping a little, especially when he found your g-spot with ease. 

He couldn’t resist tasting you either, immediately licking on your very inner thighs to taste your arousal that soaked all the way through your underwear. He moaned a little at the taste then headed straight for your clit, flicking his tongue against it experimentally before properly wrapping his lips around it. 

The feeling had you moaning loudly into the mattress and fisting the duvet in your hands. He just seemed to know exactly what he was doing right away and accompanied his mouth with an extra finger at your entrance. The cool of his rings had you shivering, but it only added to the pleasure you were experiencing. 

“You taste so damn good, sweetheart. Could eat your pretty pussy for days” Harry moaned appreciatively, kneading your ass in his hand while his fingers worked against your g-spot. 

Harry ate pussy like it was his favourite meal. He was sloppy and messy and sucked your clit just right. And he was fingering you too good to even be real. His cock wasn’t even near you yet and your whole body was already vibrating with pleasure. 

“Feel good, y/n? Tell me. Say it” he wanted to hear you succumb to his pleasure. To finally give in and just admit that you liked at least one thing about him. Maybe even beg. 

Harry would pay to hear you beg. 

“How about you shut up for once and get back to what you’re half decent at” you groaned, reaching behind for his head to try and guide him back. He laughed and shoved your hand away, pressing it down to the bed beside you. 

“Half decent?” He flicked his tongue against your clit, so fast it had you squirming back to try and reach for more. “I’d say I’m better than half decent, wouldn’t you?” 

Then he wrapped those pink lips of his around your clit and sucked. He sucked and nibbled and fucked his fingers right into your g-spot all at the same time until you were gasping his name. 

You moaned it loudly as you came, not bothering to give warning because frankly, he didn’t deserve it. You, however, deserved an orgasm and he happily drew you through the entire thing. 

“Still only half decent?”

Now he was itching for praise. For something other than an insult or a halfway compliment that seemed to just irritate him rather than make him feel good. He couldn’t lie, you were possibly the only person on the planet who managed to bruise his ego. 

And if he didn’t get any actual praise for his skills by the end of the night, he would make it his personal mission to get you in his bed as many times as possible to get it. Though, Harry was confident in his ability to please a woman, so he was sure that wouldn’t be necessary. 

But having sex wasn’t done for necessity, was it? It was done for a little fun, or to sate a desire or in your case… to fuck the attitude away. 

“Yes” you breathed, panting into the bed and still trying to get a rise out of him. 

Harry let out a huff of frustration and licked his fingers clean of you before spanking you once. Then he got off the bed quickly to grab one of the condoms he stashed in the pocket of his pants. He was back on the bed barely a minute later, cock sheathed in a condom and kneeling behind you while just kneading your ass in his hands. You were clenching around nothing at his touch and he could see it. It drove him fucking crazy. 

“Maybe if you fuck me right, I’ll put it up to decent” you panted, pushing back into his touch. 

You were a bit desperate for him, you couldn’t lie. But you weren’t willing to beg for it. The thought of begging Harry Styles was so revolting, it almost turned you off. 

Almost. Because he was right behind you and was now guiding his cock right to your entrance. How could you get turned off when he was about to fuck you? 

“Once I fuck you right you’ll be praising me like Jesus himself” 

You didn’t get a chance to correct him or throw something about his ego back before he was pushing inside of you. He did it in all one go, then without warning or giving you time to adjust he just started fucking you. 

“Oh fucking-Harry!” You cried out, a dull pain pulsing through your core. But that pain was barely noticeable with the way he was driving into you. His cock was long and thick and he hit your g-spot so hard and fast you were practically sobbing into the bedding. 

“There it is. There’s that pretty moan of yours. Bet I can get it louder” he gloated, grabbing your wrists and pulling them towards your back. Your face smushed harder into the bedding, but you couldn’t care when he grabbed your wrists and used them for leverage to fuck you.   

“Feel so fucking good, y/n. We should’ve done this way sooner” he groaned, slapping your ass and tipping his head back at how wet and tight you were around him. His hips were snapping hard against yours, the sound echoing through the hotel room. But it was only muffled beneath your uncontrollable whines and Harry’s own moans.

His grip on your wrists was tight and a bit painful, but the dominance and control of it all had your head spinning so you didn’t care one bit. The pain only made the experience more pleasurable. With every spank and degradation, you were inching closer and closer to your second orgasm of the night.

At least Harry actually knew how to please a girl and wasn’t just making things up for the last two years that you knew him. 

The pleasure was dizzying. The rate and force he was pummelling into you had your brain going completely numb. There were no thoughts in there anymore, not even any witty comebacks that you could throw at him. It was just empty and overwhelmed and only focused on Harry all at the same time. 

“Fuck” he muttered, his cock slipping out of you with a distinct wet sound. It was covered in your cream and arousal and you were just so beyond wet Harry could barely see straight. 

He slid into you again, but then his cock slipped out for the second time and he grew frustrated. Harry didn’t want to slow down, so a change of position seemed like the best thing to do. 

He suddenly let go of your arms but was quick to slide his hand between your neck and the bedding and pull your head back by wrapping your throat in the crease of his elbow. He helped you up until your back was to his chest, one hand on your hip for stabilisation while he basically choked you with his other arm. 

The new position had you choking on your own breath and grabbing onto his forearm in reflex. It was just so much deeper and made his cock feel like it was stretching you out so much further. With his mouth pressed to your ear whispering filthy words too… you were losing it. 

“Touch your clit for me, won’t you sweetheart? Wanna feel your sweet little pussy come around me” he encouraged, grabbing your hand and forcing it down until your fingers were pressed to your clit.

“Fuck” you gasped, thighs shaking as you began rubbing little circles over your clit. Your whole body was becoming overwhelmed with sensations yet you loved every second of it. 

“Fuck is right isn't it?” he chuckled, “I just fuck you so good don’t I? So good all you can do is moan and swear and squeeze that tight cunt around me like I own it. Like I own your pleasure, control your pleasure. No man or woman will ever make you feel like this again, I can guarantee it”

“Fuck you and f-fuck your s-stupid dick” you tried to say it confidently, but you were so fucked out that it just sounded sad. It was a pathetic attempt at regaining control and you both knew it. 

“Can’t even talk can you, because you know the truth. I fuck you good and you love it”

You hated him. Truly. Because he was right. 

He wasn’t just ‘half decent’, or even ‘decent’, he was fucking incredible. So incredible, it barely took two more minutes before you were feeling your orgasm start to build up inside again. 

“Oh I can feel it already, sweetheart. Can feel your pretty little pussy squeezing around me. You gonna cum already?” 

“Uhuh, oh God. Yes!” You cried, hand shaking as you tried to bring yourself to another orgasm.

And Harry just encouraged it. He whispered encouragements in your ear and just fucked you so damn good you were crying out his name for the second time tonight. 

“That’s it. Good fucking girl, fucking-Jesus fuck”

He finished soon after, stilling inside you and holding you close before he pulled out and guided you both down to the bed. You just laid there panting. Both naked and staring at the ceiling like neither of you could believe what just happened. 

It was like there was this moment of clarity once you two got over your highs, like that post-orgasm clarity kicked in and you were suddenly regretting everything that just happened. Harry got up at some point to discard his condom then came straight back and laid down beside you still stark naked.

Harry clearly didn’t care about his body, which was fine considering it was basically perfect. You, however, were suddenly feeling way too vulnerable being naked beside him. 

“That was a mistake” you breathed, getting up quickly to find where your clothes were thrown around the room. 

It was hard to find anything when Harry’s bag had been kicked off the bed at some point and his clothes were strewn across the room, but you managed to find your dress first, so you headed there and tried to control the slight limp in your walking on the way.

That fucker. Fuck him and fuck his stupid dick. 

“I’m not feeling very regretful. Feel quite satisfied actually” Harry hummed, tucking one hand under his head while the other rubbed his belly. “I’m quite hungry though. How do you feel about a cheeseburger?”

“A cheeseburger? A cheeseburger!? You’re fucking ridiculous!” you exclaimed, “We have dinner booked in-where is my phone?” you muttered to yourself, spotting your bag and blazer near the door and beelining for it so you could check the time. “We have dinner booked in… oh great. An hour ago.”

Your phone was littered with calls and texts of concern, some from your boss and others from your coworkers. It sent a huge hit of panic through you, even more when you turned your phone off and caught sight of your ruined makeup in the reflection of the black screen.

Great… just great. 

You let out a loud groan while Harry just looked at you amused, still butt fucking naked. He seemed to be keenly interested in the room service menu, flicking through like you didn’t have a reservation booked somewhere.

You were an hour late, yes. But it was dinner and drinks so maybe you could still make it? 

“What are you doing!? Get up! It’ll take five minutes for me to fix my makeup then hopefully they’re still on drinks and appetisers. We can still make it.”

Harry didn’t move though and just set the menu down on his chest. “Do you actually want to go? We’re already an hour late and this room service looks really good”

“And say what? Oh, sorry we’re late we were too busy fucking and lost track of time!?” you crossed your arms over your chest and looked at him expectedly. 

“Noo, though that would be a funny conversation wouldn’t it?” he chuckled to himself. His lack of care for the situation just bugged you even further. “Food poisoning. We got some food delivered when we got to our room and it was bad. So now you’re vomiting in a bucket and I’ve stunk out the bathroom. See? Perfect. And I’ve even given you the more ladylike food poisoning option”

You scrunched your nose at his offer and his excuse. Did you really want to spend an entire night alone with Harry? 

“Come onnn y/n. We’ve tasted each other’s genitals, I’m sure we can share a meal without killing each other” he grinned and sat up, patting the spot beside him on the bed. The way he referred to your oral sex just made you shiver, but you knew he was just doing it to piss you off even further.

You supposed he was right… and to be honest, all you wanted to do was shower and get into pyjamas after that intense round of sex. You couldn’t think of anything worse than heading downstairs for a company dinner when Harry just fucked you and called you a whore. 

“Fine. But I call first dibs on the shower and you’re cleaning the room while I’m in there” 

“Deal” he agreed instantly, not a hint of reluctance in his tone. 

You looked at him a little suspiciously at how fast he agreed to your terms but decided to just leave it to grab some clothes and head to the bathroom. Once you were in there, a new term popped up in your head.

“Oh, and Harry? Put some fucking clothes on”

━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━ ━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━

Tag List: @tiredinwinter @cthwildflwr @justlemmeadoreyou @gurugirl @a-strange-familiar @hislcstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @littlenatilda @tbsloneely @butdaddyilovehim-hs @itsgigikay @femmefleur @groovychaosavenue @lolyouallsuck @swag13r @alyssarbaer @idrawshapesonpeople07 @straightontilmornin @lillefroe @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

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love at coachella

Description - a journey of the moments that built up to Coachella

A/N - this is a fic dedicated to the monumental moment of harry performing at coachella. i’m so proud and happy for him - he owns the world <3

warnings : smut (only in last entry), swearing, angst

17th June 2020

The call came at 2 A.M. in the morning.

Your head was safely tucked into Harry’s neck as you both slept soundly. Harry’s head rested on top of yours and his tattooed arm cradled you into his side, pulling you as close as comfortably possible. 

“H.” You said softly, the letter barely coming out of your mouth from the morning gruffness. 

You pushed him with the hand on his chest, trying to wake him up from the deep sleep he was clearly in. The touch of your cold hand on his warm chest was enough to wake him up.

“Hmm?” He spoke, clearly confused, before hearing the ring of his phone from the bedside table. “Fuck sake.” He groaned, removing his arm from around you to twist his body over and reach for his phone. 

He lay back down in bed, scooping his arm around you to pull you back onto his chest. He liked having you near him at all times, not having any issues with personal space. If you were sat on a sofa watching a movie together, you were practically sat on top of one another. If you were sat at dinner together, you always sat on the same side of the table. If you were waiting in a queue somewhere, you’d always be within millimetres of one another. You hated space when it came to being with one another. 

“’Lo?” Harry grumbled, his morning voice causing instant butterflies in your stomach.

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💛🌟🌻Masterlist 🌻🌟💛

{Requests Closed}

‘A Series Of Firsts’

A mini series about the first times between Harry and Y/n

Take It Slow (Smut)

The one where Harry and Y/n Try to Make it Fit (Smut)

That Time (Smut)

Crossing The Finish Line (Smut)

Hair (Smut/Fluff)

Ready? (Smut)

The Stages of Corruption (Smut)

Shy (Smut)

The Best Christmas (Fluff/Smut)

Resolutions (Smut)

A Special Valentine (Fluff/Smut)

‘Sneaking Around’

A mini series about Y/n and her best friends dad, Harry.

Such A Tease (Smut)

The one where Harry and Y/n Visit a Sex Shop (Smut)

Stress Relief (Smut)

Bored (Smut)

A Beautiful Day (Smut)

Keep Up (Smut)

Sunday Smut Concepts

✨✨✨✨✨

3 am (Fluff)

10 minuets is all I need (Smut)

A Celebration (Fluff/Smut)

A Challenge (Smut)

A Cute Tummy (Fluff)

A Little Place Called Japan (Fluff)

A Mess (Smut)

A Not So Lonely Christmas (Fluff/Smut)

A Show (Smut)

All The Way (Smut)

Baby Buying (Fluff)

Be Good (Smut)

Be Honest (Smut)

Be Right Back (Fluff/Smut)

Beautiful (Fluff/Smut)

Behind the Cover (Fluff)

Before You Go (Smut)

Being of the Jealous Kind (Smut)

Branding (Smut)

Break Up’s and Make Up’s (Fluff)

Calm (Smut)

Cautious (Fluff/Smut)

Changes (Fluff)

CockWarming (Smut)

Control (Smut)

Cum In Me Instead (Smut)

Dad (Angst)

Dangerous Woman (Smut)

Decisions (Smut/ Fluff) 

Dibs (Smut/Fluff)

Distance Does Make The Heart Grow Fonder (Fluff)

Dreams (Smut)

Dress Up (Smut)

Eating Out (Smut)

Feeling Small (Smut/Fluff)

Feel It (Smut)

Feelings (Fluff/Angst)

Finally (Fluff)

Fucking Try Me (Smut)

Full (Smut)

Getting It In (Fluff/Smut)

Going Virtual (Fluff/Smut)

Good Morning (Smut)

Goodnight (Smut)

Growing Up (Fluff)

HarryWeen: Home Edition (Smut)

Hickeys (Smut)

His Clothes (Smut)

His Little Bunny (Smut)

Home Movies (Smut)

I Love You (Fluff)

I Miss You (Fluff)

I Need You (Smut)

Insecure(Smut/Fluff)

Is Mommy Okay? (Fluff)

Just a Cup of Tea (Fluff)

Just The Way You Are (Angst?/Fluff/Smut)

Kisses In The Rain (Smut)

Marry Me…Please? (Fluff)

Mixing Business with Pleasure (Smut)

Mornings With The Styles Family (Fluff)

Mr. Photographer (Smut)

Nice and Warm (Smut/Fluff)

Nights with Harry and Y/N (Smut)

Needy (Smut)

Not so Innocent (Smut)

Part Of The Family (Fluff)

Perfect Timing (Fluff)

Pet Names (Smut)

Puffy Little Peach (Smut)

Pushing Buttons (Smut)

Put a Baby in Me (Fluff)

Random Concept (Smut)

Reacquainted (Smut)

Relax (Fluff)

Scratches (Smut/Fluff)

Self Control (Smut)

Sex (Smut)

She (Smut)

Sixty-Nine (Smut)

So Good (Smut)

Soft (Smut)

Sold (Fluff)

Sore (Smut/Fluff)

Souvenirs (Smut)

Space (Angst??)

Stay (Smut)

Sub!Y/n Concept (Smut)

Super Dad (Fluff)

Surprises (Fluff)

Sweet Creature (Fluff)

Taste (Smut)

Teach Me (Smut)

That Guy (Fluff)

The After Party (Smut)

The one about Harry and his Breeding Kink (Smut)

The one about Harry’s leather suit (Smut)

The one about Y/n and her Stuffie (Smut)

The One Where Harry and Y/n Ring In The New Year (Smut)

The one where Harry makes you cum so hard…enjoy!! (Smut)

The one where Harry’s being a mad and horny devil and younger!y/n is being a tease (Smut)

The one about Harry’s Moans (Fluff/Smut)

The one where Harry doesn’t want to wreck you (Smut)

The one where Harry makes Y/n feel good (Smut)

The one where Harry plays with Y/n (Smut)

The one where Harry takes care of Y/n (Smut)

The one where Y/n can’t choose (Smut)

The one where Y/n is very different from Harry’s exes (Smut)

The one with some VERY HOT morning sex (Smut)

The Purse (Smut)

Too Hot (Fluff)

Touching (Smut/Fluff)

Wanna Make A Baby? (Smut)

Want Some Help? (Smut)

Warming (Smut)

Watermelon Sugar (Smut)

We’ll Be Alright (Angst if you want to call it that)

Welcome Home (Smut)

When the Kids are grossed out by their parents (Fluff)

Santiago, 25/05/2018

Masterlist

Finally got my shit together and created a masterlist! Not to be that bitch but please don’t repost my writing anywhere without my permission! Any requests or feedback are always welcomed, just hit up my ask box!

Any fics that feature an asterisk (*) denote smut. Click on each bolded title to read said fic.  Fics start from oldest to newest (the newest piece of writing will always be at the bottom, including under blurbs)

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