Short and long Imagines

Harold

I DIDNT WRITE THIS I FOUND IT ON TUMBLR

A smutty story in which Harry comes off stage all sweaty 'n' gross, so him and y/n shower together. Things get steamy 😏😏
Author's note:
Okay, so there is a fluffy part 1 to this story but I didn't write it. Go and read that one here!
It was written by my good friend, Sydney at trulymadlysydney! She came to me and asked if I wanted to cowrite a part 2 to it with some smut (which ya'll know I excel at smut what with my dirty, fucked up mind) so here is the product! a cowritten piece by me and Sydney!
Enjoy...

"Shower with me."
You wrinkle up your nose and your lips curl up in a smile. "Seriously?"
"Yes. I'm sweaty and gross. Besides, it gives me the chance to love on you in a lot of different ways." He leans down and kisses your cheek and you let out a content sigh.
"Okay," you say, nodding your head. "Yeah. That sounds lovely."
"You're lovely."
"Quit being cheesy before you ruin the mood."
It didn't take much persuasion to get her to join him in the shower. Harry is a man of many talents; the art of seduction being high up on the list. Be it seduction in the traditional sense—a soft kiss to her most sensitive area, words mumbled into her skin while making her want him, a dark gaze up at her when his face is buried under the sheets where she needs him the most—or in the unconventional sense—making her laugh so hard she wants to cry, etc.—he is damn good at what he does. She suspects he knows it to, what with the way his face lights up in response to her compliance.
So imagine his happiness when she agrees to step into the shower with him for a post-concert romp. It wasn't often that she agreed to this, after all; mostly because their shower schedules are never really in sync. He showers in the mornings and no matter how many times he'd begged her to join him, she usually just grumbled and rolled over to get more sleep. She showered at night, and he was never home around that time. In fact, more often than not he came home to find his girl curled up and asleep somewhere.
Let it be understood, however, that y/n and Harry were both fans of sex in places other than the bedroom. The couch, the kitchen table, the pool, and even on top of the buzzing washing machine were all locations frequently visited by the two of them on days when they were feeling more... adventurous, for lack of a better term. The shower was not excluded from that list; it just happened to be further down on the list.
After their first time stepping into a shower together, they had agreed that shower sex was a pastime they both thoroughly enjoyed. Harry was constantly waiting for the next time she would agree to shower with him, and, deny it as she might, she was wasn't necessarily opposed to the idea. (Plus, balancing themselves against the slippery walls is a talent that neither of them quite fully possesses yet, and what better way to practice than to just get right in and do it?)
It isn't long until she hears the shower hiss to life and the water slap against the tile. Harry is more than enthusiastic as he practically buzzes around the bathroom. He sets up towels on the counter for when they're done—he knows she'll be like Jell-o when they finish up, and the last thing she'll want is to go looking for a towel. Plus, shy little thing never liked to be naked longer than she had to be—a quirk that is somehow irritating and endearing all at once to Harry. As soon as she came down from her post-orgasm giggly bliss, she usually became insecure and wrapped herself up in the blankets or in her clothes. He never knew why she was like this, but he never judged it. He only saw it as his job to make her as comfortable as possible at all times, and then one day, perhaps, she wouldn't mind it so much.
An idea pops into his cheeky little mind, and he reaches for his phone. He desperately wishes he had speakers right now, but as it is, he'll just have to make do.
Moments later, a song begins. He can't stop the quiet little chuckle from escaping past his lips because he honest to God thinks he's the funniest thing. He removes all but his boxers and wonders if the music loud enough for her to hear. Moments later, he gets his answer when he hears her voice. "Babe? What are you doing?"
He doesn't respond. Instead, he attempts to turn the volume up louder and sings along. "Let's get it on.... AHHHHHHHHHHH BABE!"
She throws back her head and lets out a loud belly laugh, the sound like music to Harry's ears. He's doing his job correctly. Sex and laughter were two things that went hand in hand in Harry's book. So it was no wonder that her laugh did such crazy things to him. "Harry what the hell?"
He sings over her. "Lets love babyyyyy, lets get it onnnnn sugar!" He peeks his head out past the doorframe suddenly, wiggling his eyebrows.
She's sitting on the edge of the bed, still fully dressed save for her bare feet. As much as he wishes she were undressed now, he can't help but marvel at the beauty emanating from her. She looks so cute with her pink toenails and the dress sitting high on her thighs with laughs bubbling out from deep within her belly. "You're still trying to seduce me?"
He steps out into the room and she shakes her head at the sight of him dancing in his boxers. As cheesy as he's being right now, her wandering eyes do not go unnoticed. "Leeeeetttts get it on. Woooo-hOOOO!" He snaps the elastic of his boxers against his skin and watches her face intently as it lights up with more giggles. Her hands come up to cover her eyes out of secondhand embarrassment, and he wishes she wouldn't cover her face. She always did when she was laughing, and he never understood it; especially because he—every time—would reach up and tear them away. She can't resist peeking through her manicured fingers at him and so he continues, stepping slowly out of his boxers and singing, "We're all sensitive people... with so much to giiiiiive!"
And there he is in all his fully nude glory. His junk hangs loud and proud and, despite having seen it more times than she can count, she still lets out a squeal. "HARRY OH MY GOD!"
It was true that she was always shy about her own naked body. Harry, on the other hand, was not. He was confident in every sense of the word. And he enjoyed making her squirmy if not full on uncomfortable because he knew she loved it deep down. Like now, for instance, as she's shaking her head at him and chewing her bottom lip to keep it from curling up into a smirk. He twirls his boxers around on his pointer finger, not breaking her eye contact and wanting so badly to laugh. "Understand me sugar! Since we've got to beeee here, let's live."
"I don't think I want to do this anymore," she teases.
That stops the whole show. He raises his eyebrows. "What?! Oh yes you do. I didn't put on this show for nothing."
"It is a nice show, but—"
"No buts. Except for you butt. Which is still being covered by your dress and needs to be in that shower right now." He snaps his fingers twice. "Come on. Let's go." If anyone was going to win this teasing game, it was going to be him. Bar none.
She giggles. "Harry, what in God's name—"
"Oh my god, y/n."
Before she can do anything else, he's right in front of her, bending over and grabbing around her waist. She squeals loudly in his ear as she's hoisted up over his shoulder and her face becomes dangerously close to his ass. "HARRY!"
"Quiet now," he says, turning to walk into the bathroom. "Don't want the neighbors to think I'm murdering you or something."
She is an uncontrollable mess of giggles as he walks and holds her so effortlessly. The whole situation is just too disgustingly cute for Harry to handle. "Harry honestly—" she begins, but he cuts her off once more.
"This is why you need to cooperate with me," he says, matter-of-factly. He bends down and sets her on her feet once more. He can't help but notice the flash of her pink underwear when her skirt wrinkles up as he sets her down. The sight sends a wave through his body, almost like an electric current, and he thinks if he waits to have her any longer to take her he'll burst- metaphorically and physically. The steam from the shower has already started to fog up the mirror. He smiles down at her. "You look beautiful in that dress, but it's gotta go." He jerks his chin. "Come on. Off with it."
"Someone's being bossy tonight..."
He points at her. "Hey. We haven't got all night, madam."
She lets out a highly exaggerated sigh before reaching back to unzip her dress. Her sass is cute and downright sexy to him. He watches her with an almost carnal stare, but before the zipper even moves she stops. "Wait."
He sighs. "What?" It comes out a lot whinier than he intended. He sounds like a little boy, and she smirks knowingly at how much power she has over him.
"Turn that music off. It's ruining it for me."
"Really? I think it adds a little something to the erotic atmosphere."
She snorts. "Harry, shut up." He reaches over to do what he's told as she goes to unzip her dress. When he turns back to her, the dress is sliding down her body painfully slow. It takes everything in him not to pull it down himself and absolutely attack her skin with his lips.
She lets out a sigh as the dress pools around her feet, and Harry seems to have forgotten any and all teasing, if only for this moment. He lets his eyes scan every inch of her body, and he licks his lips in approval as he takes a step closer to her. He knows his lingering eyes must be making her feel nervous when her hands move slowly to cross over her stomach. He reaches over to stop them immediately, taking them in his own.
His eyes flick up to meet hers and she offers him a weak smile. He responds by pulling her into him so he can press the sweetest kiss to her lips. He never tired of simply kissing her. If he weren't so damn turned on right now, he would probably just want to stand here and kiss her for the rest of the night. Her lips are like candy to him; always with a taste that can only be described as her. Harry swears he's never tasted anything so damn good in his life other than her—every part of her. Which brings him back to the current situation.
He breaks the kiss slowly and shakes his head down at her, as if in disbelief.
"What?" she asks, cheeks tinted as pink as the underwear he so desperately wants to remove.
"You're just... all mine. Can't believe it. That's all."
Her cheeks grow pinker and he wants to reach up and touch them so badly as if that will cool them down. She glances down, overwhelmed by the sweetness of his words. She always got overwhelmed when he was immensely mushy, though he never knew why. He never knew how any could not be mushy with her. She shakes her head. "That's not—"
He reaches up under her chin to tilt her head up so that she's looking at him once more. He loves her eyes. He's never seen another color like them in his life and, in all honesty, he could look at them forever. He says nothing, only reaching up to run the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip. He pulls at it lightly and it bounces back up against her top lip with an almost popping noise. She giggles a bit, as he pulls her into him once again for nothing more than an embrace. "I love you so much," he mumbles into her hair.
The two take a moment to just be here, enjoying the feeling of her skin against his. Inhaling the other's scent. Even if he is sweaty and a bit gross (his words, not hers), he still smells genuinely good. Sweet and... well, like Harry. "I love you too, H."
He pulls away after a few more lingering moments, the cheekiness returning to his smile for fear of being too mushy. There was no such thing in Harry's mind, but enough was enough. "Right then. Can't let the hot water go to waste, can we?"
"No, definitely not." She laughs, reaching behind her to unclasp her bra.
Harry puts up a hand suddenly to stop her. "Wait... may I?"
She pauses in an awkward position; arms strained behind her and mouth hanging slightly open. "Oh. Uh. Sure, yeah."
She spins around to present her pretty little backside to him. Harry is being exceptionally sweet with her tonight. Not to say that he isn't always grossly mushy when it comes to sex, because he is. But sometimes, tonight for instance, he goes the extra mile to make sure he's using every bit of himself to love on her.
He worries his hands are a bit cold as he fumbles with the clasp, but it doesn't take long before her bra becomes significantly less tight. She loves that he knows how to unhook her bra so quickly—and he loved to gloat about it. (He wasn't always skilled in that area. He used to struggle just as much as the next guy. "Be smarter than the bra," he'd often mumbled under his breath as he tangled his fingers in the straps and furrowed his eyebrows together in concentration. That was mostly in the beginning of the relationship when he was first figuring her—and her bras—out. Now that he's got it down pat, however, he's always bragging about his newfound talent. And being just enough of a little shit to walk up behind her and unclasp her bra through her shirt in public.)
"There we are," he says, and just as she's about to turn in his arms, she feels a touch as soft as moth's wings on her shoulder, which in its unexpected gentleness, stops her on bated breath.
Harry could never miss this opportunity. To reign her all in, sweet and still. Naked back just begging to be mouthed at. She is such a titterer—always moving about in some way, talking with an animated hand, jolting laughter, ticking jaw, buzzing lips... but when his gentle touch skims along her skin, goosebumps prickle and he can practically hear the slight catch at her throat. From one second, he could be singing some silly song in her ear, but then the next, all silliness is sucked out by his hand and one simple caress. Quite amazing, he thinks...this effect he has on her.
His hand dances along her shoulder and moves to her neck. Harry sweeps the hair away and all that is left at the side is pretty little curly-q's. His finger comes up and twists around one of them, made even curlier in the rising fog in the room. Soon this is not enough and he wants to really feel the softness of her hair with more than just fingers. He places his lips at the spot and a honeyed sigh elicits from her throat. He smiles into the skin and hair at the nape of her neck.
"So pretty," he murmurs and continues a line of kisses at her shoulder. He makes a purposeful popping, kissy noise with each—making sure she knows how much he loves peppering her with his lips.
"Could kiss you forever, muppet," he says, never relinquishing too far from her body. She giggles while he gets down on his knees to mouth at a mole on her lower back and at where her panty line just begins the curve of her backside.
His hands move to her hips and twists her around so that he is now level with her belly button. He noses at the skin there. Knows that she is quite a bit self-conscious of a small pudge at the pit of her stomach. But honestly he outright loves the plushiness and loves digging his fingers in while he is eating her out and trying to get her to stop squirming. Harry places his lips there for a long second. With his nose pressed into the flesh, he notices that she smells so nice even before they have done any washing up. A thought that has him remembering the whole point of why his knees were on the cold ceramic, quite aching, if he might add.
"Get these off, yeah?" he says and hooks into the elastic without further preamble. She flickers her eyes down to him with lips pinched together, an eagerness touching her crested cheeks.
"Yeah," she agrees and he drags the material down her legs, all the way to her ankles. She steps out of them and his gaze is brought back to her belly button and then, of course, down, down and down to her other set of oh so pretty lips. Harry tries to stop a groan before it even hits the base of his throat.
"Especially love kissing you here." He fans a breath that he is sure she feels on otherwise rarely touched parts of her body.
Her jaw lifts up ever so slightly, a flutter at the corner of her eye. Harry leans forward and titillates some more, but rocks back a bit before abruptly standing up.
"No time for such things, though. Let's get in the shower." He cheekily turns a lip up. "You stink." Harry grabs her hand while the shifting of air leaves y/n a mess of weak limbs and clunky blinks. Not understanding, she still steps along with him into the steam. "That's it." He lightly chuckles.
Harry lets her under the water first because she can get quite cold standing in the corner. When she hits the stream of water, all confusion eeks out of her body. Harry just loves to watch the droplets soak through the tendrils of hair—going from light to dark and from thin to heavy. The curtain of silk sticks to her like a second skin. She closes her eyes and opens her mouth to let the water pool in it. She probably had entirely forgotten he was there for a full-on minute. The sound of Harry's squidging feet alerts her again and she cracks her lids at him.
"Come on," y/n says, grabbing at his wrist. "Plenty of water to go around." She drags him towards the stream and the hot water feels heavenly. Harry lets it run along his hair, making it impossibly longer, which perhaps even envies her long locks. Harry rubs at his face while she turns and bends down to retrieve the soap. Taking this opportunity of her exposed derriere, he gives a playful smack at the cheek, but the clap sounds even louder in the echo of the glass walls.
"Harry..." She straightens back up, unfazed. She can't really fault him for it, when she is bending over, all gloriously naked and wet. It's not unlike him or unexpected in any way. Harry sucks at his teeth waiting for her to turn around and eye him. When she does, it is not the glower that Harry would've thought. No...but a sly twitch occurs at her brow and her teeth fasten at her bottom lip. She holds up a bottle of body wash: Toasted vanilla sugar...which Harry absolutely despises.
"Aw, no..." he says. He hates that body wash because it smells much too sickeningly sweet. One time he ran out of his own manly man body gel for manly men such as himself, and he had no choice but to use hers. He couldn't get the syrupy smell out of his nostrils the entire day. He had to go home and take another shower just to wash it off. So when she holds it up, he moans low.
Y/n makes a show of squeezing a handsome amount of soap into the palm of her hand and before he could even think about trying to escape the sickly sweetness, he feels her squeeze a stripe of gooey soap across his cock. He shoots his gaze downward while her hands rub together. Building a nice lather, she brings one of her hands down to wrap at his shaft, the bubbles spilling in between her fingers. Harry hisses when she pulls on him and his head tilts back into the water. Such a cheeky little minx. Using a soap that he hates to jerk him off? Downright devilish. But really, he couldn't stop her if he wanted to—her fingers trace slowly up the underbelly of his cock and Christ it feels much too good.
He is plumping rather quickly in her deft hands and the prominent veins stand out in the sea of white bubbles. She unsheathes him and moves from base to tip with a particularly harder squeeze at the head—just the way he likes it when he tugs at himself. Yanno, at times when he is on tour and she isn't there and he finds himself in a shower, much like the one he finds himself in now? However, there is something inherently better about being jerked off by someone else though— something that makes it feel so much different and more arousing. His lips find hers and they kiss while the water falls between them.
She inches closer to him. The soap mixes into the hair at his lower belly and y/n thinks it quite funny. She twists it around with her fingers on one hand while never stopping the push and pull of her other. She flips him up and presses the head at her belly button, and swirls around the dip, transferring some of the sweet-smelling lather onto her. He sees the glint of her teeth in a wicked smile just before his lids get heavy.
"Fuck me," Harry breathes when she pays particular attention to the head, easily twisting around with the soap. She maneuvers his lower half towards the water and the bubbles begin washing away, but she never stops moving her hand. The warm water hits and it only adds to the sensation. Harry has to grip the door handle lest he melt to a puddle and dribble down the drain. "Yes. God—Fuck" he curses and pulls her toward him again to share a kiss full of lazy roaming tongues.
When all the bubbles are washed away, she abandons her hold on his length to reach up and pet his face—clearing the wet straggly pieces away from his forehead. A whimper on his part escapes into her mouth and he cups her backside with harsh fingers. Harry pushes her back up against the bathroom wall and spreads her legs with his knee.
"Jesus," she pants but accepts his tongue licking back into her mouth again. Harry grabs himself at the base and finds y/n's center, rubbing his tip on her clit a few good times. Deciding to tease y/n a bit longer, he runs slowly up and down her slit while taking care to press harder at the mound. He stares down the contact of their skin with bitten lips.
"Just put it in already—Fuck!" She finally grabs his cock out of his hands and finds her entrance to put him in, herself. He stands there and lets her grind down onto his length and her limbs un-tense around him with a long moan. Harry pulls out till just the tip is in between her lips and then drives back in. The water from the showerhead just barely muffles his low-bellied grunt.
From this position, he swivels his hips up into her and can feel her walls clench. All wet and inviting. She runs her finger nails down his back when he does it again and again. He loves when she gets a little rough with scratches and biting and such. So unlike her—outside of the bedroom—but she is like this only for him. He bucks harder into her and the hot water smooths over any marks she leaves behind. Harry puts a hand to the glass and licks the beads of water on her neck.
"Don't stop." She cups the back of his wet hair and he responds by leaving a mark of his own at the column of her throat. "Harry..." she breathes when he picks up the pace with his hips. His hand goes down to her thigh and hitches her leg up around his waist to penetrate deeper places. The slap of his skin on hers reverberates off the glass walls and a faint echo of her voice is in his ear. Honestly, he is not paying attention, biting his lip and concentrating on his handprint on the wall behind her—he wants to make this moment last but her mounting cries are becoming too much.
When she comes, it is quite unexpected to Harry. Her hands try to find purchase on the wet walls, but she slips and he has to hold her up— never relinquishing the bucking of his hips, trying to make her feel everything he can give her. Squeezing all up and down his length, he tries focus on getting y/n through it, but really, he becomes sloppy and his high hits as unexpected as hers. After a good spurt inside her core, he slips out and comes the rest of the way on her lower belly, milky white mixing with the beads of water. His cock pulses with each shot, all until his hand absentmindedly squeezes the last drops out onto the floor. Y/n is weak and jelly-limbed as she un-notches her leg from his waist and gets her footing correct. Harry helps her stand straight before she leans up and buttons their lips together.
They stay locked together for a few moments before he slowly pulls away to look at her face. With eyes still closed, she elicits a hum of a sigh and he can't help but attach his lips to her cheek. "I love you," he breathes, in a breathy whisper.
She inhales deeply through her nose, fluttering her eyelashes open ever so slowly. "Love you, too," she says, then giggles. She always giggled a lot after an orgasm; he knew that well. "You still stink though."
Before he can respond to her quick-witted sarcasm, she bends over once more to pick up the body wash, earning a loud groan from him. "That's false. I'm already clean. So clean."
She picks up a used washcloth hanging on the rack inside the shower, used by him this morning, and squeezes a large amount of the sticky stuff into it. He watches with a frown, but knows he's far too in love with her. He would let her do anything she wanted to him.
She leans forward with a glint in her eyes to leave a wet kiss at one of the birds on his collarbone before reaching up to brush the kiss away with the washcloth. Bubbles cascade down his chest and onto his tummy; some even collecting in his bellybutton. She giggles again. "Love you. Love this."
She takes his hand in her own and raises his arm slightly, running the washcloth down the inside of his arm slowly. "Love your tattoos," she says, more to herself than to him, and he shivers when the washcloth brushes against a particularly tickly spot of skin near the top of his arm.
She giggles, damn her, because she always loved doing that to him. "Sorry," she mutters. "Have to make sure you're all clean."
"Y/n," he whines, "I'm clean. Gonna smell even worse once you're done with me."
"That's a matter of opinion," she muses, ringing the washcloth out. Before he can say anything back, she leans forward and peppers a few soft kisses across his chest. She wraps her arms slowly around his torso, pulling their bodies together. Like puzzle pieces, he thinks. They fit together so well.
She elicits another hum and rests her head against his chest, just below his chin, and his body is stinging against her touch. He can feel everything. Her warm, wet hair on the bottom of his unshaven chin. The way her nipples brush against his skin every time she inhales (Which, he notices, causes a slight and embarrassing twitch in his cock). Even the way her legs brush against his, so beautifully feminine in comparison to his own.
He presses his lips to her wet hair. "Love you so much," he mumbles. "So happy you're here."
"Mm," she responds. "I never want to leave."
"Then don't," he replies, a cheeky thought suddenly popping up in his mind. He pulls away, noticing the surprised little whine in her voice at the sudden lack of his body heat.
He falls down onto one knee, now eye level with her hips and beams up at her. "Y/n Y/LN. I do not have a ring. Nor your parents blessing. Nor my parents blessing, really. But will you please... marry me one day?"
She bursts out laughing and his smile grows wider. Thank God they shared their sense of humor. "Harry what the fuck? I never thought I'd be proposed to in a shower but... sure. I will one day marry you."
He reaches back behind her and, unable to resist, squeezes her ass. She squeals, lightly slapping at his hands. "Harry!"
With a laugh he stands up and fastens their lips together once more. "So lucky you love me," he mumbles, and she giggles into his mouth.
"I would say I'm the lucky one, but I was just proposed to in a shower," she responds. He pretends to be hurt, but she only laughs again, reaching up to brush a strand of wet hair off of his forehead. "I love you, H."
"I love you, too. So fooking much it's unreal."
For the next ten minutes, they stand under the water kissing with lazy tongues and light giggles and fingers gripping everywhere for some stability in the slippery shower. And that night, when she denies the towel he offers her and elects to sleep fully naked and tangled up in him, he couldn't be more positive that she is the one he wants to come home to (or, in tonight's case, come to an empty hotel room with) for the rest of his life.