Omorashi Kink - One Direction One Shots

Harry Styles Omorashi-Highschool

Harry's halfway through his twelfth grade English class when he feels yet another strong urge to pee. He's been trying to ignore it for the entire class, hoping to wait at least until his teacher, Mrs. Smith, is finished lecturing at the front of the room. He hates interrupting her to ask to leave the room, and he's done it enough times this year to know how annoyed she gets with him. He's a pretty good student, honest, and it's not like he's just trying to get out of class for a while - he just really honestly needs to wee all the fucking time. Like, it's actually ridiculous. His mates tease him about it all the time, rolling their eyes when he has to pause a game of FIFA to run to the toilet or beg for them to pull over during a long car drive. But he really just can't help it.

Harry squeezes his legs tight and glances at the clock on the wall. Still thirty minutes left in this class. He sighs, wriggling around and bouncing slightly in his seat. Thankfully his seat next to his boyfriend of two years, Louis, is in the back corner of the room, so nobody but Louis ever notices his pee dancing. For some reason his bladder often demands to be emptied during this particular class, even though he makes the conscious effort to always go to the loo during lunch.

As Harry taps his foot distractedly, he feels Louis nudge his arm.

"Just ask," Louis whispers, smirking a little, and Harry frowns at how transparent he is when he needs a wee. He also secretly smiles though, because he kind of loves how Louis can read his mind.

Sparing one more glance towards the clock and realizing it's only been two minutes since the last time he checked, Harry sighs again and accepts his fate. His bladder is starting to pulsate rhythmically and it's getting more and more difficult for Harry to keep it under control - he knows he's not going to be able to wait until the end of class.

Crossing his legs under his deck and giving his crotch a quick squeeze before immediately releasing it, Harry raises his hand.

Mrs. Smith actually sighs audibly when she sees his hand, and Harry cringes. "Yes, Mr. Styles?"

"Ermm... may I please go to the toilet?" Harry asked as politely as possible.

"Can it not wait until the end of class?" Mrs. Smith asks, clearly tired of his constant loo runs.

Harry contemplates it for a second, but the jolt down his spine and the increasing pressure in his bladder make up his mind. Blushing slightly, Harry shakes his head. He's not the type to get embarrassed easily, but it's always a bit awkward when he has to admit to a classroom full of people how bad he needs to piss.

"No ma'am," Harry states calmly, trying to remain composed as his legs shake furiously under his desk. "I'll be quick, I promise."

Mrs. Smith rubs her temple as if she is the one in pain right now, then gives in and nods her head. "Okay, go ahead. But make it quick. And this is the last time you're leaving my classroom, are we clear? Start making better use of your lunchtime, Mr. Styles."

Harry nods eagerly and hurries out of the room, not bothering to protest that he does make use of his lunch hour. No point in embarrassing himself more.

For the rest of the week, though, he is very careful to control his liquid intake at school, not wanting to get caught short during class. His mates tell him he's being silly, and Niall insists that Mrs. Smith and the other teachers that try to control bathroom privileges are a bunch of 'shower of cunts' (his words, not Harry's). Harry grins at that, happy that for once his mates are defending his bladder instead of yelling at it. Still, he makes sure to not drink too much during school hours, and makes it through the rest of the week without incident.

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It's Monday morning and Harry has evidently slept through his alarm. He wakes up to his phone ringing loudly and hears Liam shouting on the other line about how he's waiting outside in the car with Louis and he'd better be outside in five minutes or they're leaving without him. Harry curses and quickly throws on the first clothing he finds, then dashes into the bathroom for a wee. He stands there for a minute, willing his morning wood to go down so he can actually piss, before groaning and giving up, running out the door to catch his ride, and grabbing an orange juice for the ride. He doesn't actually have to go that bad - feels only a slight twinge in his lower abdomen - having woken up a few hours earlier to pee in the middle of the night.