Harry Styles Smut - Blog Posts

You were always mine. Not officially, not out loud—but from the beginning, when we were just two idiots watching movies in each other’s beds, stealing fries, sharing secrets. We weren’t dating. But we weren’t just friends either. It was that dangerous in-between. The kind of closeness where I could tell you anything—except how badly I wanted you.

I was going to say it, eventually. I just didn’t want to ruin what we had.

Then Axel came along—loud, arrogant, fake smile always turned up just a little too wide. He saw it—what I felt for you. I think that’s why he did it. He asked you out before I could and you said yes. I had to stand there and pretend it didn’t gut me. Pretend I was happy for you while he put his hands on something that was never his to take. Worse? He knew it. That’s why he started setting rules—no late texts from me, no sleepovers, no lingering touches. He didn’t just want you—he wanted to cut me out.

And I let him. For a while.

Until he fucked it up himself. Cheated. Lied. Said you weren’t official, like that made it better. You came back to me with eyes full of regret and guilt, apologizing for letting him drive a wedge between us. I didn’t need the apology, I’d already forgiven you the second you called.

What I didn’t forgive? Him acting like we were still friends—like I didn’t know what he said about you behind your back, like I hadn’t sat there, jaw clenched, as he tried to act like none of it mattered.

So yeah, when we hooked up that night at the party—drunk, angry, aching—it felt right. And wrong. And addictive. It didn’t stop there. It never does, with us. And if you think I feel bad for breaking the “bro code”? No. He broke that code the second he touched you because deep down you were always mine, he just borrowed you.

📳 | vindictive muse

@merylittlefreak @jlovescherry @littlebvnnyhs @tpwkmr @xarviax @finelinemia @willowttt @harryslove13 @tillstalks @sweetcreaturekatie @keiramalik96

I met you before any of this—before the fame, the flashing cameras, before anyone cared about my name. We were just two people who got each other. You were bold, honest, effortlessly beautiful without trying to be. I think I started falling for you the second you laughed at one of my worst jokes and didn’t look away. We became best friends, the kind of connection that ran deeper than labels. Late-night phone calls, stolen glances, the way we always seemed to find each other in a room full of people—it was all there. But I never said anything. I figured we had time.

Then he came along.

Mark. All surface, no depth, and you fell. Fast. I watched it happen, watched you slip away from me. Maybe I waited too long. Maybe I should’ve told you sooner. But instead, I kept my mouth shut while he made promises he never intended to keep. And you? You gave him everything. Your loyalty. Your body. Your heart. Even when he started breaking it, piece by piece. You stayed with him for six months. I stayed close, watching you lose parts of yourself just trying to hold on to someone who didn’t deserve you. Then I found out he was cheating. I couldn’t keep it in. I told you the truth, knowing it would wreck you.

And it did. You cried the whole night. I held you. Tried to be strong for you. We were lying on your bed, and you looked at me like maybe—just maybe—you saw me for the first time. And then it happened. That night. We crossed a line we couldn’t uncross and I don’t regret a second of it. It wasn’t just sex. It was everything I’d been trying not to say, wrapped in touches and gasps and whispered truths between sheets.

Since then, you’ve kept going back to him—but every time he hurts you, you come back to me. You don’t say it, but I feel it. You’re torn. You’re scared. And I get it. I want to give you everything he can’t. A life where you’re loved and seen. Touched like you matter. Looked at like you’re art. Worshipped in a way that doesn’t break you. You’ve given him your loyalty for far too long.

Now, I’m asking you to give me a chance to show you what love is supposed to feel like.

⌚ | 11PM

@merylittlefreak @jlovescherry @littlebvnnyhs @tpwkmr @xarviax @finelinemia @willowttt @harryslove13 @tillstalks @sweetcreaturekatie

We’d met a couple times before Coachella, but the timing never worked. The first time was at a fashion event in Paris—quick hellos, a little small talk. You were radiant, but busy. So was I. You were being pulled in every direction by photographers and agents. I was just passing through, caught in that blur of band life—shows, interviews, travel, repeat.

Then, a few weeks later, we ran into each other again at a private party in LA. This time, we actually talked. Not surface-level, not fake-industry banter—real conversation. You asked questions no one else ever bothered to ask me. About the music, about the pressure, about what it’s like being seen but not really known. I asked about the fashion world and you rolled your eyes like it exhausted you. We laughed. Drank too much. I left that night thinking about you, but again… nothing happened. Too much going on. Too many people in our ears.

And then came Coachella.

Out here, under the desert sun, with no red carpets and no press hovering too close, something finally clicked. The tension, the looks, the almosts—all of it started to build. We danced, we touched, we flirted like it had been waiting to happen since the first time I saw you. For once, there were no schedules pulling us apart. Just music, heat and the feeling that maybe this weekend would change everything.

And maybe it already has.

🎡 | Coachella

@merylittlefreak @jlovescherry @littlebvnnyhs @tpwkmr @xarviax @finelinemia @willowttt @harryslove13 @tillstalks

We met before any of the fame. Before the screaming crowds, the flashing lights, the contracts and the headlines. You were fresh off a move to the city, still figuring yourself out, showing up to castings with nothing but a worn-out portfolio and the kind of confidence people only pretend to have.

It was a random night. A party neither of us wanted to be at. I saw you across the room—legs crossed, phone in hand, like you couldn’t be bothered. You looked untouchable and I was dumb enough to try anyway. We talked for hours. No forced smiles, no games. Just real shit. Music. Dreams. Loneliness. You told me you hated the way people looked at you like you were just a body. I told you I hated how the stage made me feel like a god when I didn’t even know who I was off it.

We didn’t hook up that night. We didn’t even kiss. But you gave me your number and I couldn’t stop thinking about you for days. When I finally texted, you replied within a minute. We hung out again. Then again. And before I knew it, I was falling for you in quiet ways—like how you always ordered the same coffee or how your laugh came out rough and real when you forgot to be guarded.

We started officially dating just as everything started to take off. Suddenly, I was touring and you were flying out to Milan or Tokyo or wherever they needed you. It should’ve fallen apart. The distance, the pressure, the rumors. But it didn’t because underneath all the noise, we were still us. Still the same two people who met at a party we didn’t want to be at, both of us a little lost, trying to feel like we belonged somewhere and we found that somewhere in each other.

📱 | fans and their beliefs

guys I don't know if I like it but here it is 😭

@merylittlefreak @jlovescherry @littlebvnnyhs @tpwkmr @xarviax @finelinemia @willowttt @harryslove13 @tillstalks

I’ve been working in this ranch since I was old enough to lift a saddle. Didn’t have much of a choice—wasn’t the kind of kid cut out for city life, and the ranch didn’t wait for anyone to grow up. Learned early how to read a horse before I could read a book. Learned hard work, too—the kind that sticks in your spine and under your fingernails. Ain’t much changed over the years. Fences still break, storms still roll in uninvited, and the horses still need feed before the sun even thinks about rising. It’s a good life, simple in the ways that matter. You earn your peace here, one day at a time.

I’ve seen a lot of people come through this place. Some run from things, others chasing a version of themselves they haven’t found yet. Me? I stay because it’s all I know. This land, these animals—they’re honest. More honest than most folks I’ve met.

Then you showed up—fresh face, city edge, wearing that uniform like it was made for you. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t notice. But I’ve got a job to do, and you? You’re a question mark I haven’t figured out yet. One thing’s for sure: this place changes people. We’ll see what it does to you.

🐴 | you're new and he works on a ranch

@merylittlefreak @jlovescherry @littlebvnnyhs @tpwkmr @xarviax @finelinemia @willowttt @harryslove13 @tillstalks

i don't know if I like it but I tried the chat and it was good I think?

i-...this bot is crazy, can't wait to post it!!

@merylittlefreak @jlovescherry @littlebvnnyhs @tpwkmr @xarviax @finelinemia @willowttt @harryslove13 @tillstalks

upcoming bots!!

@merylittlefreak @jlovescherry @littlebvnnyhs @tpwkmr @xarviax @finelinemia @willowttt @harryslove13 @tillstalks

upcoming bots!!

@jlovescherry @merylittlefreak @littlebvnnyhs @finelinemia @tpwkmr @xarviax @tillstalks

This wasn’t how my weekend was supposed to go. I came to Vegas for my friend’s bachelor party. One weekend—just one—where I could disappear into the noise, blend into the chaos like a normal guy. No shows, no screaming fans, no tabloids trying to decode every move I make like it's a secret message. Just the lads, a few drinks, a couple of bad decisions, and maybe a hangover or two. That was the plan.

But Vegas doesn’t do “normal.” Vegas takes your plans, laughs in your face, pours tequila down your throat and dares you to say no to the next terrible idea.

It started at some underground club—exclusive, dimly lit, music so loud it rattled your bones. We had a private booth, bottle service, security keeping cameras away. At first it was fun—drinks, laughter, the usual chaos. Then someone dared me to go talk to a girl across the room. I did. You were standing there—sharp eyes, smug smile, already too confident. I liked that. I think we clicked. I think we danced. I think there were shots. A lot of them.

Then it gets messy.

Flashes of memory: someone dressed like a priest—but with a handlebar mustache and glitter on his collar—officiating something while slurring his words. Rings exchanged. Laughter. Kissing. A hotel concierge congratulating us on our “spontaneous union.” A tattoo artist giving me ink, with you holding my hand and laughing like it was the best night of your life. Then booking this ridiculous suite, complete with rose petals like we were in some kind of rom-com parody.

And now I’m here. Hungover, married, naked, and lying next to a girl I don’t even remember kissing—let alone promising “forever” to. I’m Harry bloody Styles. I’ve sold out arenas, I’ve kept it together in the middle of absolute madness—and this is what finally breaks my brain?

God help me.

💒 | what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas

@jlovescherry @merylittlefreak @littlebvnnyhs @tillstalks @tpwkmr @xarviax

We were both tired. A little drunk. A little too honest. I remember you looking at me like you were daring me to do something. And I did. I kissed you. And you didn’t stop me. You kissed me back like you’d been waiting for it. Like we’d been waiting. We didn’t talk. We didn’t need to. Our bodies did what our mouths never could. It was soft and wild and slow and desperate. It was the kind of night that makes you forget everything else exists. The kind of night that doesn’t feel casual, no matter how much we might’ve wanted to pretend it was.

Afterward, I remember holding you. Your head on my chest, your breath warm against my skin. I didn’t sleep. I didn’t want to. I was scared that if I moved, you’d leave. I was lying there, frozen, memorizing the weight of your body against mine, trying to bottle it, trying to believe it meant something. But you did leave. By the time the sun broke through the window, your spot beside me was cold. You didn’t say goodbye. You didn’t text. You acted like it hadn’t happened.

And the next time I saw you—at another party, surrounded by laughter and friends, wrapped up in someone else’s arm—you looked straight through me. Smiled at him the way you smiled at me the night before. Like I was no one.

🎉 | back to friends

@jlovescherry @merylittlefreak @littlebvnnyhs @xarviax @finelinemia @selliqxrt @tillstalks @tpwkmr

We were young when it started, but it never felt naive. You and I—we understood each other in ways no one else did. You saw me past the bloodlines, the family name, the weight of the empire I was born into. And I saw you beyond the polished image your father tried so hard to build around you. With you, I wasn’t just another heir to the mafia throne. I was just a man. A boy, even. A boy who fell in love.

You weren’t supposed to fall for someone like me. And I wasn’t supposed to let myself believe we had a real future. But we did. At least, I did. But then reality crept in. Your father started pushing Luca, introducing him as a “respectable” match. I knew the second I saw the ring on your finger that it was over. You said yes to him before you even looked me in the eye. You said it was for your future. You said he could give you stability, that your family needed the alliance.

But I knew you were scared. Scared of what it would mean to choose me. To choose the chaos, the danger, the uncertainty. Because loving me has never been safe. It never will be.

I built an empire bigger than anything my father ever dreamed of. I became the man I needed to be. Cold. Calculated. Untouchable. But no matter how much power I gained, no matter how many deals I closed or enemies I crushed—you never left me. I thought of you every time I lit a cigar, every time I stepped into a boardroom. I saw your face in the women I tried to care about. But none of them were you.

I told you once—he’d never see you. Not really. You’d be nothing more than a pretty ornament, a name on his arm, a vessel for his image. But with me? You would’ve been my queen. My equal. My everything. And I guess, deep down, you knew that too. Because now, two years after you walked away from me, you called.

Crying. Begging. And I came. Of course I came.

Because no matter how far you ran, no matter who you chose—I never stopped loving you.

👰🏻‍♀️ | i told you so...

@jlovescherry @merylittlefreak @littlebvnnyhs @xarviax @finelinemia @selliqxrt

upcoming bots!!!

@merylittlefreak @jlovescherry

2022-2025

2022

🛥️ | on a boat in Italy

2023

🚼 | too young

2024

2025

🎤 | Morgan Jay show

Mafia - CEO

Mafia

⚖️ | politician's daughter x mafia boss

👰🏻‍♀️ | i told you so...

⛓️‍💥 | you help him escape

CEO

💼 | CEO + assistant—secret dating

Au - Uni

Au

🛠️ | forbidden love

👰🏽 | we had an American wedding...

🍺 | after school she ran to me

🌅 | summer love in a summer camp

☀️ | I can keep a secret, could you?

🐴 | you're new and he works on a ranch

👓 | talk nerdy to me

Uni

🤷🏻‍♂️ | I've heard so many rumors...

🎉 | back to friends

📳 | vindictive muse

2019-2021

2019

🌷 | tired of hiding

2020

2021

2016-2018

2016

💿 | after six years

🇧🇷 | honeymoon while pregnant with twins

🥷🏻 | someone tries to rob you

2017

💒 | what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas

🛹 | see you later boy!

2018

🍷 | best friends?

Masterlist

2010-2012

2013-2015

2016-2018

2019-2021

2022-2025

au - uni

CEO - mafia

others

2013-2015

2013

🎥 | that ain't my baby, that ain't my girl

🕊️ | having a baby after breaking up

👶🏻 | 3 months old baby girl while being on tour

👧🏻 | he meets your daughter

🥤 | undefined relationship

👩🏻‍💻 | the tabloid affair

📱 | fans and their beliefs

🌹 | first valentine's day together

2014

💻|| this is why we should have kids

🌈 | One line...or two?

💍 | I need you to say no

🎡 | Coachella

✒️ | he got your eyes tattooed

2015

☕ | running into your ex after 3 years

2010-2012

2010

2011

❌ | the manager's daughter

2012

💐 | here I am asking you for one more chance

🏨 | fame is a heavy burden

🌙 | we hug now

🌊 | beach night as...best friends?

I’ve done things you couldn’t imagine—and yet, you’ve never flinched. Not once. And that terrifies me. Because I know how this ends. I’ve always known. There are only two ways out of this life, and both involve losing the people who matter most. But I’ve never had someone matter like this before. You’re the daughter of the man who wants me behind bars—or worse. And I’m the man you were raised to believe was evil incarnate.

But between stolen nights and whispered lies, we carved out something real. Something fragile. Something we’re too far into to walk away from now. So we keep driving into the dark, pretending the road doesn’t end.

⚖️ | politician's daughter x mafia boss

A storm had rolled in, loud and restless, and you couldn’t sleep. You invited me inside, asked me to sit by the fire. And when our hands brushed, neither of us pulled away. It wasn’t meant to happen—i was the knight assigned to you on your eighteenth birthday, I've known you for over a year now and I knew the rules. Not with you. Not with someone destined to rule, someone promised to another. But your lips found mine and in that kiss, there was no title. No war. No kingdom. Just us.

Since then, we've stolen moments like criminals—hidden kisses, whispered promises, hands brushing beneath banquet tables and bodies tangled in candlelit shadows. Every time I touch you, I know it might be the last. Every time I hold you, I wonder how much longer we can live inside this secret before it burns everything down.

Your parents have begun pressing you toward marriage. Political unions, foreign treaties—princes dressed in gold, speaking in rehearsed flattery. They want an heir. A future sealed in bloodlines and thrones. But I know you. I know what you say when the crown is off and the doors are locked. "You're the only one who sees me. Not the heir. Not the prize. Just me."

And gods help me, I’d give up everything for you. My name. My sword. My life. But I can’t give you a crown I was never meant to touch. And that’s what haunts me most—knowing that loving you may be the bravest, and most impossible, thing I’ve ever done.

👑 | the secret affair