#harry styles is beautiful
Only Angel Harry Styles X Reader
Overview: A night you and Harry will never forget, which included a black satin slip and a hotel room in the city that never sleeps.
Soft smut
A/N: LISTEN TO ONLY ANGEL WHILST READING THIS IT BRINGS THE VIBE PERFECTLY. Thought I’d write something a little different today. It’s my first time I’ve written something like this but I like it! Hope you do too. Just gotta respect and love the definition of perfection: Mr Harry Styles.
Like and comment!
Word count: 2400
Harry was dripping in sweat. He could feel the back of his jacket stuck, and when he tried to shrug it off, he could feel the shirt peel away from his back. It was another outfit that was going to have to be dry cleaned, but he didn’t care. The crowd had been one of the best of the tour yet, and he could still feel the pure adrenaline scorching through every pore, making him skittish as him and the group of staff and friends followed him down the winding corridors of the arena. You had said that you were going to get him a little later at the hotel, so he wanted to get out now to avoid getting stuck in the New York traffic.
“Brilliant as always,” Beth the stylist raised her water bottle to him as he entered his dressing room. "Thanks,“ he smiled. "I’m sorry, I’ve got another outfit to be cleaned if that’s okay." "You can wear the trousers and shirt back, there’s no point in those being rushed cleaned. Give me the jacket, I’ll get it sent out tomorrow with the others." "You’re amazing.” Harry tried to unbutton all the small rose buttons that kept the bottom of the metallic rose jacket tight to his torso. Luckily, the shirt underneath was white, so the sweat wasn’t that obvious, so he would be able to blend into the crowd a little more comfortable in case he had to make a quick getaway. Unluckily, the jacket was fiddly, and he was in such a rush, his fingers kept slipping, and he started to get agitated. "Come here,“ Beth waved him over and then bent down to help, her fingers a lot more nimble and calm.
"You’re in a rush to get out of here.”
“Y/N is meeting me at the hotel, I don’t want to keep her waiting."
"Ohh,” Beth smirked and raised an eyebrow “you’ve got plans or something?" Harry was trying not to get his hopes up too much, but yes. It was all he’d been thinking about during the last songs, and he had made sure to not prolong the encore any more than it needed to be. By the time he was singing Kiwi, he had felt his gut twisting so much in anticipation that he had struggled to get some of the lyrics out.
"I just don’t want to get sidetracked by anybody from Sony,” he said instead. “I’m here tomorrow, they can catch me then. Oh,” he was running around the room now, free of his jacket, picking up his phone charger and the keys to the hotel, “could you tell Mitch and the guys that I won’t be able to go for drinks tonight? I did mention it earlier, but I would hate for them to think I’ve forgotten.”
"It’s okay, they know that Y/N is here. Now go,“ she pushed him playfully out the door, "There’s a taxi waiting for you at exit five. I’ll see you back here at three tomorrow." Harry did a thumbs up
"You’re an angel, Beth.”
"Tell Y/N I said hi!“ Beth yelled down the corridor at Harry’s retreating back. Harry was already scrambling with everything in his hands while sending you a quick text: Will be with you soon. As promised, a black car with tinted windows was waiting at the exit. The driver was leaning against the bonnet, but as soon as he saw Harry, he jumped up and ran to open the door.
"Where to Mr styles?” he barked with a strong New York accent.
"The Conrad please Micheal,“ Harry smiled. The gates were already rattling open as Michel gunned out into the alleyways behind Madison Square Garden, able to change routes quick as a flash when a massive wave of people burst out from the arena. Even though the windows were opaque Harry shrank slightly in his seat, reading the text you had just sent with a small smirk. Don’t be too long….
"How long, Micheal?” Harry called.
“20 minutes Mr styles,” Micheal looked through the rearview window and spoke over the noise of the city around them.
20 minutes. He could survive that.
But as the minutes counted down, Harry’s leg jiggled more and more, and the veins on his arms started to protruded as he fought to keep his mind and body under control. It felt like hours when realistically it’d only been minutes when Micheal pulled into the side entrance of the Conrad hotel. Already there was another large crowd of fans and photographers at the front entrance which could prove a problem tomorrow morning, but it meant that tonight no one was going to be leaving his hotel room. Good. He didn’t need to leave with the plans he was envisioning. Wishing Micheal good night Harry darted out, smiled briefly and nodded at the usher waiting at the door, and hopped into the elevator waiting open for him. He clicked the floor number, the doors closed, then clicked it three more times as if to speed it up. There was a ding, and the doors opened, and Harry tore down the corridor to the large double doors at the end. He skidded to a holt and breathed for a second. She might be exhausted or asleep. Don’t just tear in there and assume that she’s going to want to jump on you. Even though a small selfish part of him protested, Harry beat that back. She’s here, that’s the best part out of all of this.
When he opened the door, Harry did not notice the candles or the bath full of bubbles, or the glasses of champagne looking over the glittering view of central park. All he could see was you, and the black slip dress.
His jaw dropped. He blinked, shook his head, then looked again. The slip was satin and rippled gorgeously over your body, so you looked like liquid midnight. Lace edged the skirt and the bust, drawing his eyes to your chest, dropping his phone on the floor in hysteria when he saw that you weren’t wearing a bra.
“Hi honey,” you smiled sweetly, feigning innocence by crossing your arms behind your back. “Did you miss me?"
Harry fell to his knees. Breathing hard, he started rubbing his hands up and down his thighs, then through his hair, as he tried to comprehend at what he was looking at. "Fuck me,” he whispered.
"I heard the show went really well,“ you went on while surreptitiously pulling the back of the dress, so the hem slipped a little higher up your leg. "I could hear the screams from here at one point." Harry wasn’t listening. As you took a step forward, he seemed to almost whimper as he looked at you, his pupils so dark in the dim light that for a moment, he appeared to be controlled by the image of you. He started crawling towards you, slowly with anticipation, trying to find the right words to say. He had lost the feeling in his legs; they didn’t seem to need blood with the way his gut was roaring. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.
"Aren’t you going to say you missed me?” You teased, pointing a foot out as if to stop him from coming closer, enjoying the way his eyes seemed to throb out of his head with excited shock. Slowly, Harry pushed your foot down, closing the gap, so he was knelt down on the floor in front of you. He reached out and placed both of his hands on the back of your calves. The skin was soft from being recently shaved, and it was heavenly to touch. Taking his time, he started to trail his fingers slowly up, fluttering at the back of your knees, before travelling up further to the soft mound of your thighs. He moved his thumbs to part your thighs slightly and then plant one light kiss on the inside of your leg, his eyes never leaving yours. This time you were the one to gasp, and seeing you from this angle was enough to undo Harry right there. Further and further his hands went up, trailing the thigh, then the curve of your bum where they rested for a moment. Instinctively you squeezed your legs together, and Harry enjoyed knowing he could still do that to you. He liked seeing you like this though; powerful, in charge, confident in who you were. That alone was driving him mad. He grazed your skin, going up and down with the tips of his fingers. His kisses peppered further up, touching each freckle, whilst you let one hand play with his hair, pulling it each time you felt his breath against your skin. He knew the rings he still wore were cold, so he took them off one by one, letting them drop onto the floor and roll away. You were still waiting for him to say something, but now you were also struggling with keeping your control, not wanting to break away from this moment just yet. Harry held onto the hem of the slip and used it to pull himself up, transferring his hands back to your bum and thighs when he stood over you.
“I didn’t feel anything underneath the slip love,” he was finally able to croak out. You grinned and deliberately looked him up and down, letting your eyes devour the sight of the man you’d been thinking about ever since he left.
"That’s because,” you leaned into his chest, your boobs pressed next to his raised heart rate, “I’m not wearing anything." Harry let out a ragged sigh, letting his head fall back as he fought every urge not to rip the slip off you right then. Instead, he leaned closer, his mouth to your ear, and lowered his voice, so it seemed to rumble in your ear. "God, I’ve missed you." You went to move your hands up to straps to take off the slip, but Harry shook his head.
"Not yet.” One arm moved around your waist, keeping you close to him as he gently swayed you back and forth. He was retaking control, and you let him. As he swayed, his hand drifted up and down, moving higher up your spine each time until he cupped your neck. His shirt was still sticking to his back, so when you mirrored his arms, the curve of his lower back into his shoulders was hard against your fingers. And then, not able to hold it any more, Harry gently brushed lips against yours. The overwhelming surge of impulse took over, and the kisses quickly changed from soft and sweet to hot and desperate. Harry felt as if he had woken up from an illness he didn’t know had drained him as he kissed your neck and shoulders, seeing faint marks from when he’d done this before. Gripping your hips, Harry suddenly lifted you up, smirking in delight when you sat comfortably around his torso, wrapping your legs without hesitation around him. He walked over to the bed and deliberately put a knee up so as he fell, he could cup you against his body. You moulded perfectly together, whispering to you all the while about how much he’d missed you.
“You’re killing me,” he laughed against your cheek when you deliberately squirmed against him. “How do you do this to me every time?" His hair was already wild from performing, so it was so curly it tangled in your fingers, and you hummed in delight at how messy he looked. Harry went to move down, but couldn’t help himself but kiss you on the lips again, the sound of breath coming from his nose loud in your ears. He laced his fingers between yours while biting the skin on your neck.
Harry started to move the slip up your body, running his hands over your thighs and then your hips, kissing the mole at the spot that rested just below your hip line. You readied to raise your body to his mouth, but he shook his head again, looking up at you in glee. The slip went higher, over your stomach now, and you both were surprised with the groan of delight that escaped Harry’s lips as he nipped the natural roll that rested just under your boobs. He chuckled slightly in surprise, widening his eyes for a moment, but didn’t stop as he massaged and gripped your sides, his mouth travelling up from your belly button to the valley of your chest. When he finally got the slip off your body, he sat up, his legs straddling you, so you were lying on the bed beneath him. He started to unbutton his shirt, letting it slowly fall open. He rolled his shoulders back, loosening his muscles and rolling his neck around, deliberately showing off the broadness of his shoulders as he shrugged the shirt to fall off behind him. He drank you in, feeling your hips move, so you leaned up to look him in his crotch, making him gulp. There was nothing bashful about you, just dishevelled hair and skin unmarked like summer clouds. You had enjoyed seeing Harry’s tattoos being revealed with every open button, until all you could see with the familiar markings on his chest and bicep, highlighted by the golden glow of his skin from the American sun. He kept his necklace on though, enjoying when he leaned back over you the way your eyes closed momentarily as he let his dangle over your face. He bunched up the stain slip and held it over you, gripping his tight in one fist. "Never get rid of this,” he instructed. You smiled. You moved one hand to his waist, looking for his nod to continue. When he did, your hands worked quickly until it was just you two, united at last, and not even the noise of New York City could drown out the cries of his name. They echoed for hours later until Harry didn’t want to hear his name screamed any other way.
