Harry Styles Oneshots

Put It on Me 🍒

You're a little horny and Harry's the musician of the night.

Warnings: alcohol consumption, kissing, teasing, swearing, somewhat semi-public sex, protected sex, dirty talk, harry making you watch yourself in the mirror hehe

WC: 2.4k

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You've needed a night out for ages, the stress of your job and the fading heartache of your ex-boyfriend sitting heavy on your shoulders. You knew your friends were right and meant well when they told you to quit your childish moping and get back on the wagon. And you also knew you should've listened to them sooner because now you're having a wail of a time.

You've been at the bar for two hours already and finally beginning to feel the high and surge of confidence from your drinks. You've lost count of how many shots and cocktails you've had, but you blame that on the brown-haired beauty that's been singing on stage for the past hour.

Gorgeous brown locks, dazzling green eyes. You can tell how pink his lips are from across the expanse of the bar and in the dim lights that sits overhead, he looks like a fucking Greek god. He can sing, too. A silky-soft voice but he growls certain lyrics of a rock song and your panties have been soaked for the last forty minutes.

You meet eyes halfway through Sex on Fire and you're sure something erupts in your stomach that's akin to a burning flame. You've learnt his name to be Harry after asking the bartender for it and after the first time of catching sight of you, Harry apparently can't get enough.

He's been eye-fucking you all damn night and you're beginning to grow increasingly impatient. No man has ever had such an effect on you, especially with one look. When his set is over, you buy him a drink, tell the bartender to buy him another of whatever he's been drinking all night.

Harry disappears for a while after his little gig and you're thoroughly disappointed to not find him as you lean up on your tiptoes in search. Another three drinks have slid down your throat with ease by the time he makes another appearance and you have gone past the point of fear of rejection.

You came here for a good time, no insecurity is going to ruin that.

He finds you before you find him; swaying your hips deliciously on the dance floor and he chugs the rest of the drink you'd gotten him. He knew it was from you when the bartender said it was from the cute chick with the dark pink lips and mini skirt and he was eager to go and talk to you.

He struggled hiding his semi behind the thin mic stand while he performed and he had to shuffle his hips awkwardly as he danced so as to not thrust his erection in the faces of the partygoers in the front of the dance floor. He'd much rather thrust it in just yours.

Harry makes his way through the crowd to you, a cheeky grin on his lips and he has enough liquid courage to go over and talk to you. You lock eyes when he weaves through your friends and a more than excited smirk glimmers at the corners of your lips.

Finally.

"You get your drink?" You speak first and fuck, his mind is spinning. Your voice drips of pure honey and sex and he wonders what you'd sound like crying his name, begging you for more, for it harder and faster.

Harry blinks, cheeks flushed and not just from the drinks. "I did, thank you..." he pauses, head tilted and it's the most least-awkward way he can think of to ask you for your name.

You grin. "Y/N," you tell him your name but you don't ask for his, you'll gladly let him know you already know it.

Harry nods, pink tongue swiping to lick across his bottom lip and your eyes are glued to the sinful sight. What else could that tongue do? You don't bother to chastise yourself for the sinful thoughts of the stranger, instead, you let the idea excite you more and your knees almost buckle.