dirty imagine harry styles

Harry filming you as you suck him off.

Smiling up to the camera as sink your mouth down Harry’s shaft, looking over to him and seeing the way his lips are between his teeth and his curls are over his fluttering eyes. “Such a pretty cock. Always fills me up so nicely.”

Moaning as you suck his tip, tasting his precum, and licking up his veins to clean him up. You suckle his head, and with his other hand Harry takes a fist full of your hair and pushes you more down on him, making you gag slightly around him.

Working the base of his shaft quickly with your hand as you give gentle kisses to his balls, earning a whimper from his shaky lips.
“Ohh fuck.. yeh look so fuckin’ hot with yeh mouth full of my cock.”

And when he’s looking back the footage, all alone in his hotel room, he can see the way your eyes sparkle when you look up to him, he can hear the way he moans and breathes heavily in the background, and see the way the screen shakes when he cums..

You’re In Love With Him But He Likes Your Best Friend: Part 2

A/N: This is a filler chapter. Meaning, this is much shorter than part 1. Do not feel dishearted, there will be a longer, more detailed part 3. 

Part 1

Masterlist linked in bio.



“Are you ever going to speak to me?”

Y/n freezes as she hears Harry’s voice ask her the question she’s been dreading to answer.

It’s been two weeks since she’s heard that voice. It may sound rougher now, more stern and harsh than it normally is as it growls behind her at the counter of Lexi’s bar, but it’s still the first time she’s heard it in two weeks.

After her sober confessions to a very tipsy, slumberous Harry, Y/n had to understand what it truly meant to move on.

At first, she thought she would still be able to be around him as she searched for ways to rid her feelings. She distracted herself, mostly. She would interact more with Savannah than she would Harry, and even started picking up new habits whenever she felt her emotions creeping in. Anything that reminded her of him was disregarded entirely so that the only time he was able to consume her thoughts was whenever he was near her.

For the first couple weeks, she was holding up quite well, considering the circumstances. She was able to contain her emotions and take her mind off of the raging heartache that kept burning in her chest.

But it wasn’t much long after that night when Savannah and Harry finally became official, and if Y/n wasn’t anguished before, she surely was then. She was forced to witness the transition of their relationship in hindsight. What was once casual flirting and innocent touches turned into secretive giggles and loving hand gestures.

It was as if her heart broke all over again. What seemed to be almost completely mended was destructed all at once. The chase between Harry and Savannah was over, and reality set in that Harry was happy and in love with someone that wasn’t Y/n.

Watching them together was Y/n’s most devastating nightmare, and the thought of that alone meant she couldn’t mentally handle being alone anymore. With all of the emotions built up inside of her, being alone for Y/n meant enduring the pain and suffering she didn’t want to feel anymore. She just wanted it all to end, everything.

The earliest hours of the morning wrecked her the most. With only the moon illuminating the room and the radio silence throughout her house gave Y/n no choice but to be alone with her thoughts. She wasn’t loved, and no matter how many nights she’s tried to convince herself that this wasn’t the end, it was.

She had to let Harry go, completely this time. She gave up on him entirely because she couldn’t keep loving him when he didn’t love her. Not anymore, not like that.

She keeps her back to him as he heaves heavy breaths, eyes sending daggers and teeth clenched from his crippling frustration. 

“It’s Thursday, I see,” Harry grumbles before giving her the chance to answer, jaw locked as his fingers grip harshly around a stray, unfinished glass of alcohol. “You never work Thursdays. ’S this where your Friday shifts went?”

There’s an unpleasantly rough tone in his voice that makes Y/n’s breath hitch in her throat. She’s never witnessed this side of him, filled with anger and exasperation. He’s always been so soft and gentle, never having the heart to speak down to someone. But here he is, eyes dark with anger and words spewing venomously from his lips.

And as much she hates to admit it, she can’t blame him for being so angry with her. She knows she means the most to him—even if it’s not in a romantic sense—she’s become such an important part of his life. Ever since they met, she took in the truth about his past, understood the feelings and thoughts he’s carried all through his years, and was able to provide him with anything she was able to when he needed her most. She was one of the very few people he trusted and felt most comfortable with in his life. She was irreplaceable, he’d always tell her, nobody could compare to her. She meant everything.

And then, she left him. She distanced herself so far away from him until it was as if she was never apart of his life. She ignored him and all his attempts to reach out to her again. It hurt her tremendously, knowing that what they had together was completely and utterly helpless, but she never questioned how Harry felt about it. She did what was easiest for her and never thought about it twice. She left him so that he can be happy, but as he stands so tensely and confused before her, she can’t help but blame herself what’s happened between them.

She nods her head softly, still refusing to look up at him as she gathers all the used glasses in front of her, making herself seem distracted so she doesn’t have to make much effort into speaking to him.

“I—uh, yeah. Friday nights were getting hectic and I couldn’t keep up with the late hours. I thought Savannah told you.”

It’s a lie. A shitty, impulsive lie that Harry almost finds humorous. Of course, Y/n switched her Friday night shift. She felt as if she had no choice. She couldn’t bare to look at him with Savannah another goddamn second, and he thought of spending Friday nights with Harry without being alone with him and going to the 24-hour movie theater together was enough to make her sick to her stomach.

“She did,” he clicks his tongue, eyes narrowing as he watches her scramble around the bar, “didn’t have to, though. I knew she was lying.”

Y/n’s actions halt for a moment, a feeling of dread flowing in her veins before she goes back to cleaning off the bar, disregarded his statement completely.

Harry knows Y/n’s been avoiding him, she hasn’t exactly made it as subtle as she thought. Their entire friendship changed, and Harry knows he wasn’t the one ruining it.

The morning after Y/n drove Harry back from the bar, all he could really remember clearly was falling asleep with Y/n. There were other bits he remembered, but that was really the only moment that came to him when he woke up. And he was confused when he woke up alone because, in all honesty, he was looking forward to waking up next to her. It was all his drunk mind thought of, and that terrified him.

When Y/n started distancing herself from him, Harry kept wondering what he had done wrong. She was fine with Savannah, keeping up with their lives as usual. But she was different with Harry—closed off, in a way, and it made him feel something he’s never felt in his life before.

He was confused, to say the least. Because when he was kissing down the bare chest of the woman of his dreams, he couldn’t stop daydreaming about Y/n, and how he hasn’t heard her voice and how he hasn’t felt her in so long.

He had Savannah wrapped around his finger, yet he still felt as if everything about it was wrong. He changed when Y/n left him, because even when he was around the most loving company, he felt alone.

He was helpless. As much as he tried to love Savannah, Y/n was always in the back of his head. She was there, all the time, trapped in his mind with no escape route. 

At first, he was confused—upset and lost without Y/n. He didn’t know life without her would feel so lonely, so empty and incomplete. It was strange, not knowing how to live his life without her. He’d never expected her disappearance to be such a hindrance to him, but it was. Oh, how it was.

Then, he was angry—angry because as many times as he tried to get her to speak to him again, she never came back. She was gone, forever.

Now, he’s hurt. So damaged by her leaving his side, so incomplete and destroyed without her with him anymore. His heart is heavy with sadness and he couldn’t let himself feel this way anymore. 

He needs her, no matter how wrong and pathetic it sounds, he needs her. 

“So you gonna tell me why you’ve been avoiding me, or am I gonna have to force it out of you?” he seethes, nose flaring as he tries to steady his uneven breath.

Y/n shakes her head ignorantly, a flash on innocence in her eyes as she does so. But she damn knows well what he’s talking about, and her oblivion drives him crazy.

“I don’t—I don’t know what you’re talking ab—“

“Oh, fuck off with it!” Harry spits, slamming his closed fist down on the wooden counter.

He doesn’t seem to care about how sudden the bar falls silent, or the glisten of fear in Y/n’s eyes when she finally looks up at him. All he can seem to care about is how much pain he feels, all over. All he can think about is how now, after the last two weeks of not being able to understand why he cares so goddamn much, he’s finally able to feel some sense of sanity being in front of her now.

“You know what you’re doing to me, Y/n! You know damn fucking well what you’re fucking doing and—“

“Harry, please.” Y/n whispers and she isn’t sure as to whether or not she’s begging him to lower his voice or begging for him to understand.

“And it’s not fair!” he cries out, tears of frustration overflowing from his eyes as he grips tightly onto his hair.

His breaking point is approaching, he feels it. He feels it with every breath he takes and every word that emits from his mouth. His heart twists and breaks as he expresses every feeling that’s been consuming him for the past two weeks. He needs her to know what she’s doing to him, needs her to know how he feels in this moment.

“I did nothing to you and you keep pushing me away and that’s not fair because I don’t know how to live without you. Isn’t that something?! I don’t know what to do without you, and you know that!”

Suddenly, his head falls in his hands as he begins to sob. Complete heart-wrenching sobs, making his chest tight and breathing shallow.

Y/n reaches her hand out for him, her fingers clasping harshly around his wrist. Her own eyes start to brim with tears as she watches him sob below her, his body shaking with undying cries. She swallows harshly when he grabs ahold of her hand, bringing her palm against his forehead. His lips reach to kiss her wrist softly, quickly refraining from keeping them there longer.

To touch her, for the first time, is every answer he needs. She’s the only one to make him feel this way—she’s the only one to drive him to the brink of insanity and resurface him back to clarity. She has power over him he never understood until now, after he’s lost her.

“I don’t know why it hurts this much, Y/n,” He cries, his eyes squeezing shut as he inhales sharply, “I’ve never been more confused in my life.”

She chokes on her cries as she nods her head softly, her free hand reaching up to rake her fingers through his hair. Her lips shake from their craving to touch him, watching as he weakens beneath her. 

She’s missed him, in the most desperate of ways. She’s missed every part of him, and every atom in her body yearned to feel him again. Whether it was to feel the warmth of him from a distance or to feel his skin ignite her, she wanted every part of him against her. If she wasn’t with him, she was missing him, and craving him with every breath she took. 

Her lips press tentatively to his forehead, her breath fanning through his hair as she does so. The action is quick, leaving just as quickly as it comes, but it carries sentimental meaning for the both of them.

Harry frowns, his heart thumping in his chest. He looks up into her eyes, filled with concern and sanity as she maps his features.

“It’s been ever since me and Savannah got together.” He mumbles, eyes watching her face as it pales slightly at his words. “You haven’t spoken to me since.”

Her eyes flutter shut as he speaks, finding it completely pointless to try and make him believe otherwise. He deserves to know, one way or another, and even if it’s now, she feels like she’s already lost him. There isn’t much she’d be losing now, anyways. He was never hers.

“Please leave, Harry.” She whispers.

She backs away from him, her touch leaving him was like a gunshot to his chest. It’s a feeling he’s felt all too much that he can’t bare to feel again. 

His heart breaks as he watches her begin to cry, her usual glistening eyes now filled with tears of sorrow. He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he tentatively takes a step closer to her.

He’s desperate, and he doesn’t care how weak he seems. He’s desperate to see where he’s missed it all along, to know how long he’s been making her feel this way. He’ll never forgive himself for all the pain he’s caused her, for all her nights alone when all she wanted was to be with him.

He could have done so much to change this. If he had just listened to his heart from the beginning, this would all be different now. If he hadn’t been so blind, they would both be happy right now.

“Love, I—“

“Don’t.” she whispers, her voice cracking as she speaks, “Please, don’t.“

She isn’t exactly sure what she’s saying—isn’t quite sure what she’s begging him not to do. Maybe it’s the nickname he’s always called her that makes her stomach twist a bit more, or how he’s trying to make her feel better that makes her eyes sting with a fresh new wave of tears, or how he looks at her now the way he never did before that makes her throat tighten around a sob. Whatever it is that makes her beg, she can’t  handle it anymore.

“I’m trying, Y/n,” He whispers, “please.”

“Please just—“ her eyes flutter shut as she speaks, “just leave me alone.”

Harry lets out an unsteady breath, his green eyes brimmed with red as he watches her begin to sob. 

He nods, because he can’t let himself keep doing this to her. If he keeps trying with her in her current state of mind, she won’t be able to think properly. She’ll be a wreck, more so than she is now, and he can’t find it in his heart to do that. Even if it means fighting for her.

“It’s not worth it, you know.” He whispers, his eyes staring lovingly into hers, “Being with her, it’s not worth it if it means losing you.”

Sweet Girl.

Okay but Harry watching you in awe as you sink down on him, your shirt (well his shirt that you stole from him) lifted up to show your breasts and giving Harry the perfect opportunity to hold your chest as you start grinding your hips, whimpers leaving your mouth.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good.” your nails are digging into your thighs, head tipped back you moan, feeling the way he stretches you out, the burning sensation making your eyes roll back. 

Harry looks down at where you two are joined, his cock glistening from your wet cunt. His fingers travel down your front to your core, and start flicking your sensitive clit, making your body jolt and your thighs tremble.

“Is my sweet girl sensitive? Huh? Gonna cum nicely fo’ me?”

Sick of Losing You

Plot: Harry and Y/N lost each other when he found someone else.

Warnings: None aside that it kinda broke my heart.

Playlist to the one shot: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL2S-tehb1XqDqkmE4xnz7-SciJy61soVf

Thanks to @interfectorems for being such a good friend, supporter and for requesting this. 
Songs that are mentioned but not on the playlist are “Out of the Woods” by Taylor Swift & “If You don’t Know” by 5Sos.

Pic of this beauty isn’t mine.

I watched from a far how he held on to her hand, his fingers grasping and squeezing hers gently while his eyes never left her pretty face. He watched her speak with such an intensity in his green eyes, as if he literally saw nothing other than her. His girlfriend. Not me.
I took a deep breath, swallowed the thick lump building in my throat and turned away from the sight.
Exactly three weeks ago, Harry and I had shared a kiss. Our first kiss, which had been exactly how I’d secretly always wished for it to be. Of course it had been. Every time you get to kiss the person you love is special and like fireworks painting colors into the sky.

He’d been talking and listening to me all night, similar to how he now was with her and had at some point reached out to hold my hand, just like he was holding hers in this moment.
When the time felt right, he’d leant in and had captured my lips with his. Needless to say, Harry was a phenomenal kisser. He knew when to press further, when to use how much tongue and was very attentive to how my body responded to his. Whenever I thought about it now, my cheeks tingled with the memory of his hands cupping them gently as he cradled my face to keep me close. He’d been so soft, so perfect. Harry had touched me with a tenderness, I thought it’d break my heart. I remembered wrapping my arms around his neck and feeling like they belonged there, like I was meant to hold him close.
Only that I wasn’t. The girl he was with now only proved how insignificant I was.

I couldn’t help peaking and looking over at him again. Harry’s lips. I knew exactly how they felt when pressed against my own, knew their taste and shape. Their warmth. Harry’s touch was impossible to forget.
I watched him kiss his girlfriend with a mesmerized stare, before moving away and into the kitchen, leaving the small gathering of our friends with a murmured excuse that I needed to get a refill of my drink, when in reality I couldn’t bear seeing the man I loved sharing affectionate kisses with someone else.
But not even the kitchen was a safe area for me. t had been this exact kitchen, the one in Harry’s house, where he’d pulled me aside and told me about her for the first time.

“It’s difficult” I think he said. “It’s my fault that this situation has become so messy.”

Was it silly that I could actually still remember every word he spoke to me? That I’d engraved every pause, every take in of breath he made, deeply into my head?

“Listen, Y/N… You’re important to me. I care about you. Need you, it’s just… There is someone. Someone who could be a chance for a relationship and I really want to give this a go. Give her a go, I mean. You can understand that, right?”

At first it’d felt like none of it was real. Because how could he be serious?
Harry. My best friend, Harry.
Only three days after our magical first kiss, three days full of us talking and flirting and texting constantly, he was telling me that he wanted someone else. Her name was Ira. And though he was seemingly behaving the same way with her he had been with me, we weren’t the same. In fact, she was everything I wasn’t. So when he told me he wanted her and not me, that he was picking her over of me, how come I’d been surprised?

I would never be his first choice, not when there were thousands of others he could choose from. And it was time for my brain to learn to not interpret every kind gesture, time to learn to stop overthinking every word. It was time for my head to accept, that there was no way Harry Styles could possibly want me.

So… I had been understanding. Kind even.
I’d lied and told him that yes, I agreed that our kiss had been a mistake. We shouldn’t have done any of that and instead thought of our friendship first, rather than our impulses. I’d kept a smile on my face throughout the entire talk and even finished the short chat by wishing him good luck with her. Another lie.

My fingers shook and so I set the empty glass of my drink down quickly, worried for a moment that I might otherwise spill the last few drops. I didn’t think much when I reached for the bottle of vodka on the counter. There was no getting through this night if I didn’t have something proper to drink. If only I remembered the recipe….

“Need help?”

My shoulders tensed. It couldn’t be him. Please… anyone, literally anyone, but him.

However when I turned around, Harry was there. He stood tall and beautiful, his short hair soft and wavy. Harry’s compelling eyes held my gaze with such a tender rawness in them, my knees weakened. All my body burned for was to wrap my arms around his shoulders and have him embrace me, have him tell me that everything would be okay again. I felt like I needed it, but knew that this was a wish I would be denied. Harry must have felt it, too. It was in the air around us. It had changed and… buzzed. As if being in each other’s presence made the world halt still for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” Harry chuckled lowly when I didn’t say anything. How could he smile like everything was alright?

And what was it he was apologizing for? Abandoning our friendship? Ruining any hope I’d had to find a partner in him? Shattering my heart? Hardly.

“For scaring you,” Harry elaborated, a sudden hint of guilt in his eyes, almost as if he’d read my thoughts.

“It’s fine, Harry,” I muttered, bearing a false smile, “All good.”

It was hard to look at him. Especially his eyes. They burned a whole into my chest whenever my own orbs found them. They reminded me of the Harry he once was, the one I could always come to and rely on.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, his head nodding towards the bottle of vodka. His forehead furrowed in a worried expression and I quickly set the container back down.

“I wanted to make myself a drink, but the recipe slipped my mind. I’m not as much of an alcoholic as it must look like.”

“Good to know,” Harry chuckled, then, visibly thinking about it first, took a step forward. “I remember what you like in your favorite drink. Could make you one.”

From how close he was standing, it was easy to notice every detail of his skin. Every curve of his lips, every hair of his barely-there beard. My stomach turned.

“That’d be nice.”

Harry smiled and nodded. “Okay.”

We avoided any touching. I was leant against the counter, he stood with a safe distance between us and only came closer when he needed a different ingredient that happened to be near me. It was awkward and… weird. It didn’t feel like ‘us’. The friends we’d been once seemed to be two completely different people. I knew him and felt he was familiar, but there was a emotional distance between us I knew neither of us could overcome. And still, I was with him and even if we behaved like strangers, being with Harry was nice.

“I think that’s it,” Harry said, breaking the silence. His eyes were set on the pink-orange liquid in my glass, then they drifted to my face. A proud smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“You 'think’?” I challenged shyly.

I took the glass from him (cautious not to touch his fingers) and took a sip. It tasted great.

“M'not big of a show off,” Harry grinned, “S'it good?”

I nodded and stirred the colored liquid once more. “Thanks, Harry.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N.” His voice was soft and his gaze shy.

The air around us shifted once more. My eyes teared up. What had happened to us? Harry and I… we used to be the kind of friends who didn’t stopped talking to each other for hours. At first, we’d be loud. We’d laugh and giggle so much eventually both of our tummies hurt. That was when we’d change the subject and speak more quietly, until several hours later our conversations drifted to topics only we were allowed to hear. Then we’d be whispering and sitting closer together, always an eager sparkle in the other’s eyes as we both listened with interest about what was being said.

I quickly turned away and pretended to yawn. My eyes blinked rapidly and I willed them not to cry in front of him. Not because of embarrassment, but because I couldn’t do that to him. I’d given him my okay. I had no right to be mad at him for having found someone else. Harry remained standing close and with his hands in the front pockets of his black jeans.

“I think I should go,” I muttered.

I held my head low and took a deep breath before looking at him briefly. Harry’s eyes held concern and his fingers twitched, as if he longed to reach out for me.

“Y/N, love,” he began lowly, “Do you think we could talk for a bit? S'been a while since I got to see you. Hear your voice. I missed you.”

This time when my eyes met his green orbs, I didn’t look away, even though I could feel the tears forming and coming closer to spilling over. Harry’s whole expression changed. His cheeks paled and his forehead furrowed deeper.

“I miss you, too, Harry,” I admitted, my weak voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” he mumbled, shaking his head slowly, sorrow deeply set in his eyes. His feet stepped closer and his warm hands touched my flushed cheeks before I even had the chance to back away from him. The unexpected closeness caught me off guard and had more tears coming, this time because of how much I hated how uncommon this sort of care from him had become.

Harry embraced me. His head buried itself into my neck and both arms wrapped themselves around my waist so he could lift me up from my feet. “Please no, Y/N, Sweetheart. Don’t cry.”

I couldn’t help it. My heart, the final bit that had been whole still, broke in his caring hands and I was overcome and pulled under a wave of grief. That was what I was doing. I was grieving our friendship and the lost hope I’d had for a relationship with him. And he allowed it. He let me cry against his collarbones without any complaint and instead began to hum quietly, knowing how much his voice always soothed me. Pain shot through my chest. He probably did the same when she was upset.

“I can’t-” I cried, but got cut off by my lungs that burned with need for air.

Harry hushed me, his hold tightening, “Don’t, Y/N. It’s going to be alright.”

I shook my head and loosened the hold I’d taken around his neck. My hands momentarily brushed his soft hair, then I pulled away. Harry hesitated but allowed me to step out of his hold.

“I can’t take it anymore, Harry,” I confessed, my voice breaking halfway through the sentence. I reached up to brush my cheeks with the end of my sleeve and hiccuped. My head felt numb and I knew if I didn’t get out of this kitchen soon, he’d witness a break down I wasn’t comfortable with him seeing.

Harry’s hand reached for my arm. I didn’t fight it when he pulled me closer to him, but avoided his eyes when he leaned down to find my gaze.

“Y/N,” he spoke, his voice rough with emotion, “I promise you, it’ll be alright. M'not leaving, okay? M'not. We’ll figure this out.”

I wanted to scream but all I could was shake my head rapidly. “Figure this out how? What have we become, Harry?”

Another sob wrecked through my chest.

“I don’t know,” he confessed, “But we’re going to find each other again, okay? I promise. Let me say goodbye to the others and then we’ll go for a walk or something. We’ll talk. About everything and nothing at all… Just like we always used to, yeah?”

Used to. So long ago, it seemed.

“Okay,” I whispered, my burning eyes set on my feet. My skin shivered under his warmth and my lips hurt from how much I was bitting them.

I flinched when his mouth pressed a kiss to my head. The skin was left with a burning sensation. “Wait for me here, love.”

Harry’s quick feet carried him out of the kitchen and left me standing by the counter with my heart at the pit of my stomach. I stood up straight and brushed the few remaining tears from my cheeks. My skin tingled and I felt the hint of a smile on my lips, even though my body ached.
Looking back now, I wish I would have stayed put by the counter and had waited for him just like he’d asked me to. I wish I hadn’t been impatient and eager to reunite with Harry, because that eagerness drove me to exit the kitchen shortly after him and turn the corner, allowing me clear view into the living room.
There he stood. His arms around her thin form, his hands in her long hair and his lips kissing hers. All air was knocked right out of me. I could see how his hands gently moved against her neck, bringing her in closer and their bodies flush together. When their lips parted for a moment, I could see how he let his tongue run along his lower lip, as if he wanted to make sure he got all of her taste. And I could see him smile warmly at her, right before he leaned back in to connect their mouths once more. This sight… it burned.
I didn’t wait for him. Because I had been wrong before. My heart wasn’t truly broken until that moment, witnessing the man I loved with my everything, kissing a woman who wasn’t me. And if he wasn’t going to leave me, if he was just going to keep me close and allow my heart to shatter over and over again, then I supposed I would have to be the one to go first.
So that’s what I did. I walked back to the entryway, slid on my jacket, picked up my bag, and left the house. Left, to never come back to Harry Styles.

Keep reading

Mine

Originally posted by worldstyles

REQUEST: Jealous Harry smut

HARRY’S TEXTS // (Y/N)’S TEXTS

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Eating Out (SMUT)

A/N: Requested by @dopamine-addiction! Sorry it took so long, hun! Also, this GIF seemed appropriate XD

Character: Harry

Warning(s): SMUT GALORE! Also, NSFW GIFS under the cut. Once again, I’m so sorry to mobile users! GIFs used are not mine.

Originally posted by ariana-winter

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“I don’t like Harry styles”

You’re In Love With Him But He Likes Your Best Friend

Masterlist linked in bio 


Harry’s been drinking all night.

It all started off with Savannah, whom he went to Lexi’s Bar with a couple of friends. It was a tradition they all had that carried throughout the past couple of months. Because Friday night meant cheaper alcohol, and Y/n’ s closing shift.

They were all having a good time, Y/n serving them drinks and they all drank their week away. It was just a night of celebrating the end of the week, where stress could be left behind for at least a couple of hours.

Everything was great until Harry got too handsy. It wasn’t his fault, he thinks, they had been talking for months and he had no particular reason to refrain himself from wrapping his arms around Savannah, considering she’s let him do it many times before.

But tonight, she wasn’t going near him, which was a drastic change from her previous attitude with him earlier that night.

So now, he’s stranded at Lexi’s Bar past closing hours, tipsy out of his mind. Savannah left without a word, abandoning him at the bar with no other ride home. 

Jesus, Harry!” Y/n gasps, her hand instinctively reaching for her chest when she makes her way back to the bar. “What the hell are you still doing here?!”

Their friends had left a while ago, only Harry remaining slumped against the bar with an empty glass of Malibu. She wasn’t aware of his stay, in fact, it was her closing shift and the bar had closed twenty minutes ago. Only the slight sound of the radio and the clanging of dishes Y/n was washing could be heard throughout the scene.

He looks like a mix of frustrated and upset, a clear shadow of sadness in his eyes as he looks up at her. He frowns a bit, looking back down at the empty glass that’s fiddling in his hands as he lets out an almost inaudible sigh.

“Do you mind driving me home?” he asks guiltily, “Savannah was my ride but she’s not really speaking to me right now.”

Y/n furrows her eyebrows at the softness of his words, an evident tone of helplessness when he spoke. She nods her head slightly, reaching over to grab his finished drink.

“Gonna wash this real quick,” she mutters, “you can grab your coat, I’ll be right out.”

Harry nods while shooting her a small smile through his frown. He’s always been extremely appreciative of her efforts with him. He knows damn well no other person would be able to treat him the way she does. She put him first, always, and it had always been something Harry never fully understood. She went out of the way for him whenever he needed it most, without the smallest hesitation. And if he needed someone to talk to, even if it was about the horrendous traffic on his way to work, she was always there to listen to him.

He can’t lie, he feels guilty that it’s her closing shift and she’d have to be driving out of her way in order to take him home. But in all honesty, he had nobody else. Savannah left without a word after Harry tried desperately to get her attention, his other friends following shortly after in one car, leaving Harry stranded alone at the bar with Y/n still working. So, really, this was his only option.

When Y/n returns to the front of the bar, she remains silent as she grabs her coat off of the hanger. She looks at him from the corner of her eye, watching as his fingers rub harsh circles against his temples, a gesture he’s always done when he was stressed. He shook his head slightly, shutting his eyes tightly as he fixes the jacket hanging swiftly from his shoulders.

She bites her lip, curious eyes wandering around his slumped frame. Seeing Harry distressed makes her feel upset. Witnessing him at a time of stress was extremely rare, and something about it makes Y/n’s stomach drop. He was always so positive, always making sure the people around him were smiling. He has the type of personality others strive, because he’s so selfless and effortless at everything he does, it’s the part of him Y/n always loved and admired.

“What happened? You okay?”

Harry lets out a frustrated sigh, his nose flaring as he closes his eyes momentarily.

“Savannah’s just so confusing sometimes. I like her a lot, but she’s hard to keep up with. It’s like she’s into me one minute and the next like I’m completely wasting her time, you know? I don’t know what she wants from me anymore.”

Y/n nods, understanding completely what he’s talking about. Savannah often does this to him—to most guys, actually.Because of how different they both are relationship-wise, it’s almost impossible for Harry to adjust to Savannah’s ‘hard to get’ character. Harry prefers to not waste any time when it comes to dating. If he likes someone who reciprocates feelings, he immediately takes action. That’s how he always was with his past girlfriends, taking no time to start a relationship with them.

Savannah, however, loves the game. Being chased amuses her, almost makes her feel as if she’s worth something. Because of her undoubtable beauty and irresistibly charming personality, she always makes the man work for her liking. Her character always made guys frustrated but exposed them to an entirely different relationship. Her hot to cold attitude made men feel intimidated, yet motivated them to catch her. Because, undoubtedly, she’s the ultimate catch no guy could ever ignore.

It had always been that way, too. When Y/n and Savannah both hit puberty, Savannah was the irresistible one. Her figure curved at all the right edges, her tan complexion naturally glowing, and she started to expose herself to new people.

She wasn’t shy of anything. Any opportunity to take on a challenge called Savannah’s name. She was constantly seeking adventure and finding new people to get along with. Which, of course, wasn’t hard at all. Everyone liked Savannah, it was almost impossible not to.

Y/n, however, was the exact opposite. She was beautiful, but not ‘Savannah beautiful.’ She was paler, not a spot of makeup on her face. Her body was a bit more frail than hers, her curves not as extenuated. She was more introverted, as well, only speaking when she felt was necessary. The only way she was able to make friends was through Savannah’s courageous behavior.

And although Savannah and Y/n had an unbreakable bond since middle school, being Savannah’s best friend screwed up Y/n’s love life tremendously. It hurt Y/n a lot throughout her high school years. Being best friends with the most beautiful girl wasn’t easy for her, if anything, it made her feel less about herself. It’s the exact reason why she hasn’t dated in years. Because guys Y/n liked always ended up falling for Savannah.

Which is exactly what’s happening with Harry.


Y/n first met Harry when she began working at Lexi’s. It was her first Friday night shift during the summer. It was her first week after training, so she wasn’t quite used to the busy weekends and late hours, but she didn’t mind it.

She was rearranging glasses at the bar when Harry first walked in. Her breath hitched in her throat when she first saw him enter. She could have sworn her heart had jumped out from her chest in that very moment. He was beautiful, a different kind of beautiful, too. He was so effortless at it—the way he moved and the way he presented himself; he had confidence in himself without flaunting it.

He was wearing tight black jeans with a pink floral see-through button up, flowing loosely from his shoulders. His chest was in great view, as well, the cross hanging from his necklace dangling perfectly between his pecs. His hair was freshly cut, his face freshly shaved and had an aroma of a cologne Y/n wasn’t familiar with. It was unique, though, like him, and all-in-all made him more attractive than she already perceived him to be.

Her eyes went wide when he claimed the barstool in front of her, her actions coming to a halt as her eyes hawked over his every move. She genuinely forgot how to breathe, his physical features overwhelming her in ways she’s never experienced before. The world around her seemed to fade as she admired every part of him she could see.

He was just so breathtaking.

It wasn’t until one of the other bartenders dropped a glass onto the floor that Y/n was pulled out of her trance. She quickly shook her head, slowly coming back in touch with reality. Thankfully, he hadn’t seemed to notice her presence yet.

She shook her head again before working to dry the remaining shot glasses. She just had to make it a couple of hours without completely embarrassing herself in front of him, that’s all she had to do.

Her eyes drifted slightly to him again when he lifted his right leg up against the unoccupied barstool next to him, leaning over before his fingers started working to retie his shoelace.

“The usual.” he spoke, eyes still cast downward.

Y/n looked around behind the counter, checking to see if he was talking to someone else. Considering she had just started working there a week ago and hasn’t served him yet, she was completely clueless as to what he was ordering.

“Uh..”

He looked up from his shoes, eyes diverting right into hers as a sense of realization reached his features.

“Oh, I see,” he giggled, “Sorry, love. I wasn’t aware there was a new bartender in town.”

His voice was both raspy and smooth in the most elegant way she’s ever heard. His accent was so incredibly thick she could visually see it by the way his lips moved. And his giggle, with the slight smirk he developed made her heart flutter in her chest.

Y/n nodded, smiling slightly at him.

“Yeah, just started a week ago. Nobody’s ever ordered ‘the usual’ before.” she joked, nervous laughter falling from her lips as she tucked loose pieces of hair behind her ear.

He grinned at her, his cheeks turning a bit peachy. He had to admit, she was gorgeous, and clearly had a great sense of humor. He could tell she was shy, though, by the way she wasn’t confident in her words and the way her cheeks flushed whenever he spoke to her.

“Cute” he muttered ever so slightly, Y/n almost thought she imagined it, “‘The usual,’ at least for me, is a Malibu Bay Breeze. Bit heavier on the cranberry juice, a bit lighter on the pineapple.”

Y/n nodded, muttering a quiet “coming right up” before gathering the ingredients. Harry watched her as she poured it all together, mixing the essential ingredients, admiring her gestures and movements whenever he said something that made her smile.

They talked for hours that night, getting to know each other. Y/n was mesmerized, completely and utterly captivated at how somebody like him could possibly exist. He was everything she’s ever dreamed of—there wasn’t any part of him she didn’t find alluring. This was the only time she’s ever spoken to him, yet she found herself feeling something she’s never felt before.

And the feelings only got stronger with time. Every Friday for four months, Y/n found Harry coming into Lexi’s earlier than he usually did, and every time he’d come she prepared him a Malibu Bay Breeze—heavy on the cranberry, light on the pineapple.

He stayed with her until closing, until the last light went off and the music went down. And after she was off her shift, he took her to the 24-hour movie theater that hardly anybody went to in those early hours of the morning. Instead of watching, however, they spent the entire movie goofing around with popcorn and sharing fond memories of their childhood.

To say Y/n had fallen hard for Harry was an understatement. She was completely and unconditionally in love with him.

The feeling he had given her never subsided—he never failed to give her a feeling of euphoria whenever he spent his Friday nights with her. And the more he opened up to her, and the more she opened up to him, the more it felt right. He felt right, no part of her doubted that for a second. He captured her heart and she knew there was no way in hell she was ever getting it back.

Savannah even began to notice her shift in mood ever since her Friday night shifts began. It was as if she turned into an entirely different person. She seemed more confident in herself, and Savannah started noticing the softest of smiles illuminating on her face every so often.

Y/n was the happiest she had ever been before, she swore she was on cloud nine. Y/n started to believe nothing could have torn her down. Nothing.

But then, it happened.

Savannah showed up to Lexi’s during Y/n’s regular Friday night shift. It was a little past midnight, arriving back from her aunt’s wedding—which Y/n would have attended if she didn’t need the money (and if it wasn’t during her shift Harry was a frequent customer in).

She ran in with a long eggplant purple dress, which had a long slit along the leg. Her hair curled in perfect waves that fell loosely down her shoulders, her makeup illuminating and extenuating her flawless features.

“Y/n!” She squealed, scurrying her way to the bar while nearly tripping over her six-inch heels.

Y/n saw Harry’s eyes widen at the sight of her. Of course she visited her when Harry’s here, and of course, she visited when she looked as beautiful as ever. Y/n knew the second Savannah walked in that it was over, every possibility of her and Harry building up to a relationship has been knocked down to the ground.

Y/n closed her eyes momentarily, because she started to feel every part of her heartbreak, and it was the most painful feeling she’s ever felt. Harry’s only seen Savannah for a couple of seconds and he was already looking at her in a way he never has with Y/n.

She gritted her teeth harshly, because how did she think this wouldn’t happen? This was always how it ended, and even if Harry ever liked Y/n enough to start a relationship with her, she wouldn’t be able to hide him from Savannah forever.

“Guess what!” she yelled once she found her way to the bar, leaning against it so she was as close as possible to Y/n.

“What?” Y/n smiled weakly, unable to rid the aching in her chest.

“The photographer at the wedding asked me to be a model for his pictures! And not only that, but he just started working for Top Shop, said he could talk to some people for me to make this work! Can you believe it?! Savannah Turk, next top model! Gosh, I’m so excited!”

Y/n smiled widely. It was always Savannah’s dream to become a model, and she could definitely pull it off. In all honesty, she was shocked she wasn’t one already.

“That’s great, Savannah!” Y/n gasped, “I can’t believe this! I’m so happy for you!”

They both reached over to hug each other, Savannah jumping up and down as small squeals fall from her lips. Once they let go, Y/n is quick to fix up Savannah’s favorite drink as she claims the barstool next to Harry.

Harry’s heart began to race as she scooted closer to him. She was completely breathtaking. He had never seen someone like her before, every part of her intrigued him. She drew him in, and there was no way in hell there was any chance of going back.

“I’m Harry, by the way.”

Savannah let out a slight “push” as she waved her hand in the air.

“I know, Y/n doesn’t shut up about you.”

Y/n’s eyes widened, but quickly refrained against her shocked expression as she let out a nervous laugh. God, they couldn’t know about her feelings, because she hadn’t told anybody about how she felt about Harry and certainly wanted to avoid talking about it while he’s practically gawking over Savannah.

Harry looked up at Y/n with a playful smirk resting perfectly on his face.

“Well, who else is going to get me through my Friday night shifts?” Y/n laughed.

Harry lifted his drink up to her, eyebrows lifting as he smirked at her, “And who else is going to get me through my loneliness, eh?”

Ouch.

Savannah’s eyebrows lifted, a wide grin on her face as she looked over to Harry. And by God, he surely was a sight to see.

“Oh, so ‘Friday night shift boy’ is lonely? Don’t know why Y/n hasn’t taken advantage of that yet,” Savannah smirked, “I know I would have.”


Y/n nods again, mustering up a sympathetic smile to him. She doesn’t want any part of Savannah’s games to make him feel bad about himself. None of what he’s feeling is his fault, and every atom in her body aches for him to know that.

“I’m sorry, Harry” she whispers, “I know how much that can hurt, you don’t deserve it.”

He gives her a soft smile, but it falls just as quickly as it spreads. His gaze falls to the floor, eyebrows furrowing as he shakes his head softly.

“I just can’t keep doing this with her.”

His soft and Bambi eyes look up at her in sorrow, a frown stretched on his lips at the strain his heart has endured.

“I don’t know what more I can do, Y/n.”

And as selfish as it sounds, the first thought that comes to her mind after the hopeless words leave Harry’s mouth is you can love me back.

Because, God, if he loved her, she wouldn’t keep him waiting. She wouldn’t keep him under the impression that he’s not good enough. No, Harry’s fulfilled every part of her wildest dreams, and she would never let a day go by without making him feel the way he deserves—loved.

Despite her selfish thoughts that she desperately wishes she could say to him, she pushes them all aside. Harry needs her, he needs her to be the friend that will be there for him in the latest hours of the night. He needs her shoulder to lean on, and she can’t deny the chance to help him through this and make him feel better.

She doesn’t respond to him, only slinging her bag around her shoulder and pointing her head toward the exit doors.

“We can talk about this later, yeah? Lets just get you home first.”


The ride to his house was silent, mainly consisting of the soft tune on the radio and Y/n’s hushed voice singing along. With the alcohol still buzzing inside Harry’s head, he didn’t mind the silence they shared. It was comfortable because Harry wasn’t in the mood to discuss his anticlimactic relationship with Savannah. He just needed someone to listen to him, to be there for him, and Y/n was his favorite company.

When they arrive at his house, Y/n is basically carrying Harry to his door.

“Yeah, alright, you—that’s right, you’re good” she huffs, the weight of his body making it a struggle for her to walk.

He isn’t drunk enough for her to completely guide him, but he is stumbling a bit and does find himself tripping over his own two feet a couple of times.  

Y/n giggles, shaking her head as she walks him through his front door. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have made you that many drinks. Thank God you weren’t planning on driving, that would have been a mess.”

Harry doesn’t have much time to respond before she sits him down on his couch. She runs her thumb along his forehead softly, wiping away some of the sweat before smiling at him softly.

"Gonna make you some tea, now.”

Harry shakes his head, his hand reaching to grab her wrist.

“Love, you don’t have to,” Harry shakes his head, “you’ve been making everybody’s drinks all night.”

She shrugs, a small smile tugging on her lips.

“I don’t mind. You’re upset, I want to make sure you feel better, alright? I know that Savannah does this to you and I don’t—“ she pauses, closing her eyes softly, “and I don’t want you to keep thinking that this is your fault.”

His heart swells at her words, his large hands reaching out to grip her small ones.

“Would you mind just—just lying down with me for a bit? I don’t want the tea, just need your company right now.”

Y/n frowns slightly, and she isn’t sad because she doesn’t want to be with him. What makes her sad is the intimacy of holding him would give her no chance to escape her feelings. Whenever she feels the heartbreak sneaking back up on her, she always finds a way to distract herself from the pain. Whether it was rearranging her bedroom, organizing the books on her bookshelf, or focusing on her work, there was always a way to escape the pain.

But it’s when she feels him—whether it’s the touch of his hand, or a rub of the shoulder—when she feels his skin ignite her and when she feels the warmth of is body against her, there was no running away from the harsh reality she’s been living in. There is no escape from the thought that she’s in love with someone she can never have because all she feels when she feels him is broken.

And it’s in these moments she finds herself being most selfish. Because he needs her now, holding him, reassuring him that everything will be okay. He’s going through the same feeling she is, and all she can think about is her stupid self and her broken heart, even when he needs her most.

She lays down on his couch first, which Harry finds particularly inviting. He lays with his head face down against her neck, legs tangled in between hers with his arms wrapped around her back. He loves cuddling with her. She’s just so soft, and she feels cozy, especially after he drinks heaps of alcohol. He hasn’t cuddled with her for a while, either, and holding her against him now already makes his shitty night somewhat tolerable.

“Thank you for being with me, Y/n” he mumbles against her collar bone, the fabric of her t-shirt moving against his lips. “And I’m sorry I made you drive me back.”

She giggles softly, her fingers brushing through his messy bed of curls. She feels him relax into her the more she rakes his hair, and he doesn’t hesitate to keep her motions going.

“It’s okay, didn’t have any other plans. Besides, I kind of miss being alone with you sometimes.”

He hums in response, pressing his cheek further into her neck. His eyes shut, his body relaxing to the sound of her heartbeat, which he feels thumping perfectly against his chest.

“S’good to me” he mumbles, “don’t know what I’d do without you, you know.”

Y/n feels her heart skip at the words he spoke against her, her whole body getting an overwhelming sense of despondency.

“Harry, I—“

“I think I’m gonna keep fighting for her” Harry interjects.

His voice is slurring now, his half-asleep daze making his words all jumbled. But he knows what he’s saying, and Y/n knows, too, and her heart plummets. Her throat suddenly begins to choke on cries she wasn’t aware had come so quickly. It’s just another reminder, just another confirmation that Savannah always gets what she wants, even if Y/n wants it more.

“Yeah, I’m not gonna give up on her yet. If I like her, I gotta fight for it, right? She’d be well worth it, too.”

Y/n tries desperately to blink away her tears, and she’s forever grateful that the light is off in his living room when she fails to do so.

“I—I think you should do what you want, Harry” her voice shakes as she speaks, “I’ll be here for you either way.”

Harry holds her tighter, humming in response again, because he’s already falling asleep and finds no energy in him to answer her.

She wishes with everything in her that she can scream, scream at him for being so fucking stupid and oblivious to her love. And the worst part is that she can’t even blame him. She had an entire four months where she could have confessed her feelings, where she could have told him how in love with him she was.

But would it have changed anything? Would they have just ended up in this shitty situation anyway?

And it isn’t until Harry’s passed out on top of her, his breath spreading along her chest and his fingers rubbing her back in his slumber that Y/n realizes she could spend forever laying here with him, all wrapped up against his body. She could fall asleep like this every night, after a long day of work and empty wine glasses on the coffee table. She could see everything, everything she’s ever envisioned, with him.

And it’s in this moment she realizes that she can’t keep doing this anymore, either.

Her cheeks dampen with her tears, hands shaking in his hair. Never would she think she’d have to let him go, but seeing his face rest so peacefully on her chest, she knows she has to.

“I love you, Harry.” She cries, her fingers gripping onto the roots of his hair.

God, Harry, I love you so much.” she sobs.

If Harry wasn’t such a deep sleeper, she would have never dreamt of saying all of this. But he’s remaining asleep, lips parted as he snores, the alcohol in his veins making him almost immobile against her.

“You deserve to be happy, Harry” she whispers, “I shouldn’t hold you back.”

Her body is shaking, soft cries leaving her lips and endless tears streaming down her face. She doesn’t want to let go, she doesn’t want to stop loving him in the way she does now. Because even though it hurts, she doesn’t want to imagine a day without him.

But she has to. For him.

Her thumbs rub along his cheekbones, her eyes admiring his features one last time.

“And it’s because I love you—“ she pauses, swallowing thickly as her shaking lips press tentatively against his forehead, “that I have to let you go.”

Desperate Frustrations. (A Smutty Harry Styles Blurb)

The city is dead silent. 

There’s not one single sound to be heard. No moves to be seen. Not one single lighted up window in the rows of twenty. Everyone is passed out and fast asleep. 

Except Harry.

His muscles are burning hot under his skin, his chest rising up and down rapidly. The king-sized bed keeps shifting and creaking as Harry rolls around, trying to find a good position and a cool spot he could sleep on, but all the good ones are already used. His tummy is under this unbelievable tension, which makes it hard for his mind to stay quiet.

Harry clears his throat, which makes it feel like he just drank a cup of sand. He stretches his arm out on the bedside table, to find a used wine glass and an empty bottle. The only liquid in his glass is the dried up red stains of his wine from earlier, when he was trying to drink his tears and sorrow away. But for nothing. Alcohol might erase the memories for a moment, but they always come back like a stray dog for food.

Groaning, he settles himself back on the bed and looks down on himself and sighs at the sight of his hard cock hitting his lower stomach. He traces the tip of his finger on his prominent vein, which makes his cock twitch and a cry leave mouth. Biting his lips, he wraps his hand around himself at the base and slowly, yet firmly starts to stroke himself. He closes his eyes and purses his lips together, feeling the warmth in his tummy getting hotter and hotter on every stroke.

Starting to speed up his hand, soft whimpers leave his lips, curses dying in his throat. Harry’s back arches slightly as his feet drag against the bed sheets and getting tangled with his covers, his hand quickly working his shaft as the other one gently cups his balls. As he starts to add pressure, he chokes on his moans, biting his bottom lips so hard with his nostrils flared out.

His head is tipped back, neck strained and veins popped up, begging to be nibbled and kissed so badly. A hiss leaves his lips when his thumb skims over his sensitive raspberry tip, pre-cum already forming on his slit and his eyes clamp shut. His back starts to arch again as he gets closer and closer to his high. Mumbling quietly:

“Oh fuck, ungh. Such a good girl fo’ me. Huh, Is tha’ wha’ yeh like?”

Harry’s thinking about the way you hugged his cock, so warm and snug, when you slid down on him. That choked up moan you did when he first pushed in. The way clenched around him so tight when you came. Your cries and your nails scratching down his back, making sure to leave him marks for the next day, so you could take care of him. And when he’s about to cum, hanging right on the edge and biting his lips until they’re bleeding red and his fist shakily holding his leaking cock, he stops, because that’s something you did to tease him, that devilish smirk on your face as Harry’s hands were gripping to your hips, his own hastily trying to fuck up into you. 

He’s panting, his hair in a sweaty mess on top of his head. He continues to jerk himself off, and goes completely silent. That’s when the knot in his lower stomach unwinds. Hot and heavy cum all over his ferns and dripping down his shaft to his balls. Cock twitching in his hand as he’s desperately trying to get every last drop of cum out of his tip.

He exhales loudly and drops his head back to the mattress, letting his cock fall limp on his thigh and then digging his palms into his puffy and red eyes. He still feels dizzy from his orgasm, feeling so sensitive and as light weighted as a feather. 

If only you were there to lick and clean him up, telling him how good he did, for you. And wipe away that salty tear away from his cheek, that is slowly making it’s way down to Harry’s jaw, holding up so many memories.

Say that again; H.S.

“So how did your date turn out the other night?” Harry appears into my side view, still buttoning up his crisp, ironed-by-me chemise as he walks to stop beside me. I turn on my heel, bumping my hip into the marble countertop as I let a humourless chuckle flow past my lips.

“Disastrous. Catastrophic. I-never-ran-so-fast-in-my-life-short.” I laugh loudly, handing Harry the utensils for his dinner in a few hours. I pull on his shirt near his shoulder to straighten it before I lightly push at Harry’s chest to get him up and going – there wasn’t much time left.

“Couldn’t be that bad,” Harry starts off but pauses ever-so-subtle, “or can it?” he disappears from my view – hopefully to his large dinner table in his living room – elevating his voice so we could continue our conversation.

“Believe me. It really can be. Not that you ever experienced a hell like that.” Again, a chuckle passes my lips while I shake my head. A friend of Harry’s had set me up on this date and the male in question wasn’t that horrible, but our mind sets were so different I don’t think that could have ever worked out. I cut the date short after a comment that resembled ‘all women belong in the kitchen’ and sent the lad on his way.

“As if girls throwing them at my feet is something that’s so thrilling. Can’t even have a proper conversation like that. They only have one thing on their mind.” Harry appears back into my view to grab a few napkins on the edge of the table, already turning on his heel again.

“Not to start anything – but uh – you sound like a woman. All men are the same kinda shit? But reversed.” I stop my motions as an amused grin crawls onto my features, dropping the dessert spoons back on the marble and discarding them all together.

“I’m offended. You’re implying that I whine. I don’t whine, I complain that I can’t get laid.” Harry’s voice is still humorous as he ducks beside me to grab the dessert spoons off of the table, bumping his hip with mine to get me out of the way. “I still need glasses.”

“Harry come on, if you wanted loose sex, you’d have it in an instant.” I ignore his comment about the glasses but turn for the cabinet either way. Harry wasn’t someone you could just approach like you’d do while out clubbing, but that didn’t mean the boy couldn’t get lucky from time to time.

“I couldn’t even fix myself a proper date? Let alone find myself a one night stand. They don’t see me like that.” Harry mopes somewhere on the premises of his loft, but nowhere in my line of sight. I visibly roll my eyes – although he obviously can’t see that – all the while a scoff leaves my lips.

“Ah come on, Styles. You’re fuckable. Don’t complain.” I discard his nonsense almost directly. Sometimes I wonder if Harry realized how attractive he even was. He could come off as strong and confident but he was just as insecure as the rest of us – maybe even more than the rest of us.

“What did you just say?” Harry’s voice lowered, his movements stilling as his whole body turned in my direction. “I – never mind.” I mumble, feeling a blush creep onto my features from Harry’s intense stare. The confidence I had once possessed around had completely drained because of his whole aura, the demanding stare accompanied by that lopsided smirk of his.

“Say it again,” Harry demanded quietly, already making his way back up to me, a smile beginning to grow on his lips.

“You’re – well. Desirable. You damn well know that H.” I groan, not quite sure why he suddenly desired a confirmation of his good looks – let alone from me. I’m not sure how long it takes for any sound to pass between us. Harry had always been someone for a dramatic pause now and then.

“I didn’t know you thought about me that way, Y/n.” Harry’s smirk continues to grow as he discards the cutlery completely, slowly trailing towards his open kitchen, where I’m still gathering other utensils needed for Harry’s family dinner.

“I didn’t say I did. I was stating a well-known fact.” I awkwardly throw back at him, trying to maintain a grin of my own as I feel the ground underneath my feet heating rapidly.

“You sure?” He toys with me, his eyes twinkling underneath the dim lighting of his kitchen. He twirls around me, collecting the glasses I had gotten out of the cabinet one by one.

“Yeah…” I trail off, wondering to myself if I was indeed sure of my words. I keep my gaze trained on the expensive crystal instead of my best mate fluttering around me as if this wasn’t a conversation we weren’t supposed to have.

“Too bad.” I still in my movements, one of my hands curled around the stem of a wine glass as I balance my whole weight on my tippy toes. I try to speed-rake my mind about what intentions could have been behind those two simple, plain words, but come up rather empty-handed. Well, I was never someone who could rapidly come up with solutions anyway.

“Too – what? Why?” I come out of my trance, landing back onto my feet as I turn around, glass dangling in my hand which Harry happily plucks from between my fingers.

“I’d – I wouldn’t mind.” He winks and within a split second my cheeks are a fire-blazing red and my eyes are as wide as they can possibly get without popping.  

I’m taking one step forward, towards Harry, but refrain from moving any further. I’m not sure if I’m reading his words as I’m supposed to, and I’m not ready to give into my urges if they are misplaced. Harry is a bit more confident than I am and closes the gap between us in just a matter of a few split seconds.

I’m pressed against the counter, my hands covering over Harry’s biceps as his own hands cup my face, keeping me in place. A little noise – what it was supposed to sound as, even I am not completely certain – leaves my lips and causes Harry to push himself even impossibly closer.

His hands wander, his lips staying locked with mine as my own mind seems to click. My hands rest on his firm biceps first, a few moments later letting them flow over his exposed arm towards his toned chest. I’m letting my fingers ghost up on his chest towards his neck when Harry’s hands cup my bum firmly, drawing a moan from my already parted lips.

“How much time do we still have?” Harry breathes against the skin of my neck. He technically forces me to open my eyes, which are immediately cast towards the clock on the far kitchen wall. “If we’re lucky, about forty-five minutes.”

“That’s all I need.” Harry chuckles as his arms snake around my body, hoisting me up into his arms. I just hope we’re not getting an unexpected visit.

okay but I feel like Harry would definitely send you nudes n shit while you’re in class


Like, you’d be listening to your professor lecture and your phone would vibrate and you’d take a quick glance and just about scream– it’d come out as a tiny garbled squawk.

And it’d be a thread of pics of him, starting from a selfie where he’s slumped into the couch in his donut hoodie with his messy nest of hair bc he didn’t feel like brushing it this morning so he just ran his fingers through it a couple of times and then called it a Grammy-worthy hairstyle. His face is neutral as he’s staring at the TV, the hood of the jumper hanging over his right shoulder and he just looks cozy and lazy. And then the second pic would be a pic of him looking down at some unknown thing off camera, but by the angle of the pic you deduce it’s his lap. And then the pic after that would be of him with his hand tucked into his black Nike running shorts, the outline of his knuckles showing that he’s cupping himself underneath. This picture would be followed by the caption, “im hard :(”

And you’d roll your eyes, typing back a quick “handle it” and locking your phone, setting it back on top of your textbook and continuing taking notes. It’d vibrate again, but you’d ignore it bc you don’t want to miss anything important. Then it buzzes again, and again, and again, and it keeps going at faster intervals and you know he’s aware that you’re ignoring him. You snatch it back up with a small, exasperated sigh, flicking through the 19 messages he’s shot at you. “help me!” “It hurts!!” “Don’t be so cruel :(” “baby I need you to cocks me through this!” “Get it? ‘Cocks’? Sounds like coax :D"

Then a pic of him all pouty with his big emerald eyes all doe-like. “just a quick one, c'mon. Just tell me what you’d do to me if you were here :)”

“I’d tell you that you sound like a fuckboy.”

“You answered so it worked”

“Because it was annoying. Now leave me alone I have work to do!”

And then a pic would come through of his bare hard-on, tucked out of his shorts and in his large hand with his fingers wrapped around it, pearls of pre-come shiny on the tip. “But I’m so hard for you :((”

You’d yelp, lowering your brightness to the lowest setting and tapping out an angry reply: “I’m. In. Public. You. Dipshit.”

“Scandalous ;))”

“do you want to get blocked again?”

“Tell me you wanna suck me off :)”

“if you use one more smiley face…”

“what, these? :)))) :-)))”

“Har, please. I have to go”

And before you shut off your phone a vid pops up and you see his face as the thumbnail, so you click it, glancing up quickly to make sure no one is watching and putting one earbud in.

“I’m really hard– s'like, it hurts a lot. And you’re not here and I just want you wrapped around me.” He frowns like a child, knuckling at his eyes and you can tell he woke up recently, even if it is one in the afternoon. “So ’m just gonna…hold on…this new phone’s a slippery one, innit? I’ve dropped it more times than I can count…”

The camera flips and, sure enough, there he is, all shades of red and purple, thick and veiny and bubbling over with jizz as he strokes himself at a medium pace, twisting every now and then to give the handjob some variety. “I just want you so bad, minx. Wanna push myself inside your hot, wet, soft and tight…fucking hell, you’re so tight…”

You’d shift a bit, legs clamping out of instinct. He’s such a dick for doing this. You glance up and there’s 5 minutes left of class. You can make it.

He flips the camera back over to his face, where he’s leaning his head back against the sofa and biting his lips raw, tiny feathery moans oozing from his lips as his breathing gets heavier, his shoulders visibly jolting. “Oh, fuck me, doll. Make me come so hard, so much…Wanna taste you– just shove my face in between your pretty little legs and lick into you until you’re shaking.”


His jaw clenches, the muscle ticking and the veins in his neck chisel themselves into existence, his Adam’s Apple bobbing slowly as he swallows thickly. Sweat is beading his forehead, a few teeny curls sticking to his skin. You can see the hint of stubble that curtains the lower half of his jaw and trails onto the underside of his face and it only worsens the ordeal because you can just about feel it now, rubbing against your thighs or scratching down the back of your shoulders as he takes you from behind. The little shit is staring directly into the camera and smirking, for fuck’s sake, licking the corner of his mouth and humming out a long groan. “Nice and hard for you, babygirl. Want you to fuck my brains out…”


The video ends there with Harry’s back arching off the couch, cutting off as he gives a watery yelp. You sit there, blinking tears of desperation from your eyes and trying to force the blush from your cheeks.


“When i get home, you’re fucked.”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way ;)”

Masterlist Updated

Smut:

Mean Fuck (Frat Niall Smut)

Dirty Dare (Michael Clifford Smut)

Drunken State (Luke Hemmings Smut)

Wake Up Call (Niall Horan Smut)

Daddy Kink (Ashton Irwin Smut)

Home (Larry Smut)

White Secret (Calum Smut)

Mini Skirt (NIall Daddy Kink Smut)

Unusual First Night (Niall Smut)

Succumbing To The Prick (Niall Smut)

Preference And Imagines:

He Hears You Sing (5SOS 4/4 Imagine)

Backstage Quickie (1D 4/4 Preference)

Cuddles (Larry Stylinson Imagine)

CEO!Michael Short Imagine

Calum Hood Blurb!

Midnight Snack (5SOS 4/4 Imagine)

How He Kisses You (5SOS 4/4 Imagine)

Bad Internet Connection Makes Him Thinks You Didn’t Care (Lashton 2/4 Imagine)

How You Met Calum

How You Met Michael

How You Met Luke

How You Met Ashton

Morning Preference (5SOS 4/4 Imagine)

Snowy Day (5SOS 4/4 Preference)

He Walks In On You Changing (Cashton)

You Guys Dine With His Family (5SOS Preference 4/4)

He Founds Out You’re Extremely Ticklish (5SOS Preference 4/4)

Cute Tweet Wars (Cashton)

Football Girl (Niall Imagine)

Jealous - Nick Jonas (Luke Imagine)

Disney World (Father Ashton Imagine)

Happier (any of them sad imagine)

Fanfiction:

Hot Cocoa, Marhsmallow and Harry Styles (Harry Styles Fanfiction)

Okay but riding Harry in a bath tub..

Candles lit around you two in the dark room, as the scent of sweet lavender lingers in the air. You kiss Harry’s jawline as his hands rest on your bum, giving it a good squeeze when you get to the sweet spot right under his ear, blowing some cooling air on the wet mark.

He tries and lifts you up a bit, just so he can kiss your chest, wrap his lips around your nipple and suckle the sensitive nubbin. Your back arches when he flicks his tongue, making you push yourself more against his cock. He moans against your skin, his eyes closed and his wet curls combed back by his fingers.

You grind your hips slowly against his shaft, earning an angelic whimper from his perfectly o-shaped lips as his lashes flutter. You look at him, and you can see the pain his eyes trying so gard to keep his dark eyes locked with yours.

“Please, baby. Could yeh, um-” Harry trails off, pushing your hair down your back and tracing his fingers on your collarbones.

“What baby? What do you want?” you ask him, adding more pressure to your grinds this time. Harry’s breath hitches and he whimpers again, his legs slightly trembling under you.

“Plea-.. please ride me. Please baby.”

You take hold of his hard shaft and settle it to your entrance. Just to tease him, you only take in his red sensitive tip. Then you slowly start to sink down on him, his hips shifting under you, and he starts panting.

“Like this baby? Does it feel good?” You coo at him, and he bites his bottom lip between his teeth, nodding quickly.

“Uh-huh.”

You take Harry’s hands and guide them to take hold of your hips. As you start to get into a good rhythm, Harry’s veins and ridges massaging your wet walls, making you cleanch around him, his grip on your hips tightens and he’s trying to gently thrust up into you.

“Ungh, ahh fuck. Jus’ like tha’, slide down m’ cock, so fucking wet and snug fo’ me.”

A Warm Welcome [h.s.]

A/N: here’s some hades!harry! Sorry if it’s shitty I’m trying to get back in the game! And sorry for any typos and mistakes! Enjoy :-)


___________________________

Being a god comes with a large bundle of heightened emotions and Harry honestly wishes that they came with an off switch. Celestial beings are called “celestial” for a reason, after all. They’re abnormally better than any human, and thus they must keep an attitude and air that enforces nothing less, but damn feelings for being able to get in the way so easily at times.

Gods must be calm and collected under the most extraneous situations, they must rule with an iron fist, and most importantly, they must forbid emotions from deterring them in any way. He’s not saying that he hates feeling emotions more intensely; some are worth the toil. Pleasure, for example, is felt tenfold what any human could handle and he can almost say that this alone makes the troubles worth it. But it’s moments such as now that bring forward overpowering feelings that he wishes he could cast aside: a dangerous mixture of excitement and anxiousness.

More specifically, the excitement and anxiousness that comes with the return of his beloved wife, Persephone (or as he calls her, Y/N), from being away for her given six months of the year.

Keep reading

Birthday boy

A one shot with a surprise birthday party and a sub Harry

WARNING: SMUT

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