WEEK 2: OVERSTIMULATION (Patreon)

HIIIIIII!!! Sorry this took so long! I seriously didn't mean for it to end up being this many words, hehe but I got kind of carried away with the background stuff, so I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!! This is definitely a couple I can bring back.

WARNING: THIS IS LOWKEY SEX POLLEN; they both eat a brownie that has an aphrodisiac in it, but both are consenting and wanting adults!

OKAY LOVE YOUUUU!!

(5.1k+ words)

i.

Y/N is in a bit of a dilemma. 

It was honestly a dilemma that no training videos could have spelled out for her, nor could the former secretary/assistant explain in intricate, explicit detail so that she would run into too many bumps in the road. She could thumb through all of the notes of the secretaries and assistants of the past, and still come up short on what to do, besides the glaringly obvious answer of what she could do. Which was probably the worst thing to do. 

So, it starts like this: Y/N answered a listing to be the new secretary/assistant for a random, tall glass building business that showed up on her job hunt online. They responded to her within the three business days they promised and scheduled an interview with her. Despite her having zero experience in a role even close to anything like this (besides being a TA in her Music Theory lecture almost a decade ago), she gets the job because she has always interviewed well and she could start immediately. Y/N was told she would train for about two weeks and then be on her own. “It should be ample time for me to show you everything you need to know about being Mr. Styles’ secretary.” His then secretary, Veda, had told her, “I think you’ll fit the role just fine.” 

The thing about Harry Styles is that he isn’t very friendly. He wasn’t rude, and he wasn’t mean; he’s polite when he speaks to her and is relatively patient despite his outward demeanor. But he also isn’t the chatty type either. Y/N thinks that if he could go an entire day without speaking two words to her, then he would be content. His way of reprimanding or scolding is very calm, but almost in a chilling way – like, it was just seriously too hard to read him. Y/N couldn’t feel out his vibe the first day she met him, standing beside Veda and shaking his hand while he stood up from his desk to greet her, but with no smile on his face.

“Don’t let him scare you,” Veda had told her one day. “He’s actually pretty easy to please; just be on time and do your best to complete the necessary tasks. He’d rather you ask him something than mess it up. He’s not some warm fuzzy boss, that’s for sure,” she explained, “But he doesn’t create a hostile work environment either. He’s just quiet and contemplative; when you meet his parents, they’ll tell you he’s been more withdrawn since his long-term girlfriend cheated on him a week before their wedding. Or at least that’s when he found out she was cheating.” 

“Whoa, what?” Y/N had gaped. “Wait, meet his parents? Wait – a week before their wedding?” 

“Yeah, girl – you’ll meet them at the company parties and galas; they like to take breaks from being retired to attend. Haven’t overheard any of this in the break room? Niall usually loves telling newbies all of the drama,” she nudged her thumb at his door, “Niall can explain more because he was actually working here when it was all going down, but from what I know – they’d been close family friends for a while, then started dating in like year 8. Stayed together the whole time, picture-perfect relationship, so in love and set to be married, but she kept pushing it off, pushing it off, pushing it off. Finally, they get things scheduled, and Harry – uh, Mr. Styles, I mean- gets a weird feeling and books a flight home early from a conference without telling her. Walks in on her sleeping with his best friend,” Y/N gasped, and Veda put a finger to her lips to quiet her down. “I know! It was so messy – apparently, it changed his demeanor entirely. He’s got all these walls up now,” she sighed, “But, anyway, when it comes to double-booked meetings, you –” 

Y/N does better now, a year into it. Getting used to his quiet demeanor and the impassive gaze he levels at her on most days was difficult to start, but now she’s come to expect it. Honestly, it’s actually sort of comforting, in a weird way. She never felt like she was forced to speak or put on a weird show for him or anything. If she was feeling particularly chatty, then he’d let her talk his ear off, though she never received more than soft hums of reply. He definitely gave off the manner of someone who had been hurt and betrayed by people who were meant to be close to him. Like he’s hesitant to let anyone get close to him again. Y/N could understand that, so she doesn’t push, and she doesn’t get offended when he isn’t interested in going out for drinks with everyone or karaoke or dinner. Y/N invites him because she thinks it would be mean not to, even though she knew he would never go. Niall told her that if he ever showed up to one of their events, everyone would probably stay sober and start crunching numbers because he’d throw off the atmosphere. 

Anyway, all of that to say – Y/N is pretty good at dealing with things on her own now, and she thinks she’s a relatively good secretary. He’d never verbally told her that he thought she was good, but a lot of her coworkers say he appears to be pleased with her work, and he hasn't said anything unfavorable about her. Had he said anything favorable about her? Well, once he said, “Good job” when she caught his phone after it slipped out of his hand, just before it fell into a puddle of water. That counts for something, right? 

Y/N had plenty of things on her job description, but a pregustator had not been one before. Brownies were delivered to the office during the day before a late night, where Y/N definitely didn’t need to stay, but stayed anyway because Harry would stay too late otherwise. If she made it clear she wouldn’t go home until he did, then he’d at least wrap things up around 10 PM instead of sleeping on his sofa again, like she’d caught him doing a couple of times. 

The brownies had been sent earlier in the day by a friend of Harry's whose name Y/N recognized. Around 7 PM, she remembered them with a little excitement, then went to retrieve one from the box and place it on a small paper plate. Technically, they weren’t her brownies, but Y/N had worked with Harry long enough to know that if she came in with a plate of something for him to eat (treats, mostly), he’d tell her to have some too. For what their relationship and dynamic were, it was actually sort of random and pretty intimate that they shared food relatively often. Once he’d even placed sliced strawberries on her desk – it was because he didn’t want them, but still, he could’ve just thrown them away, and instead he gave them to her, which was kind. Y/N doesn’t look too deeply into things like that, though. 

Y/N had never heard of the place these brownies were from, but they looked fancy and delicious. One piece was about half the size of her palm, so it would be easy to split between them. She knocked on his open door gently and stepped inside – Harry doesn’t look up because he never does this late at night, when he knows it’s her. Usually, Y/N was just popping in to tell him something was rescheduled, or a report or two were missing from an email. Today, he does glance up when he realizes she doesn’t start speaking immediately, and instead walks closer to his desk. 

He blinked at her as she set the plate down with a fork. 

“What is this?” He inquired. 

Y/N replied, “Um, a brownie,” she told him, “They were sent today. Shouldn’t you have a little snack?” Shouldn’t we have a little snack? That’s the hidden meaning behind it that he does seem to get, because he takes the fork and slices it into two pieces. He hands her the fork, but Y/N picks up her piece with her hands anyway. Shockingly enough, Harry also picks up his piece with his hands and starts to eat it. He must be hungry – they really haven’t eaten anything substantial yet – in about an hour she was going to tell him she was ordering food. 

They eat them quietly. Y/N sits on Harry’s sofa with her computer in her lap, typing away, responding to emails as Harry, which requires a lot of mental effort not to use exclamation points and sweet words. Harry continues to assess data in the way that he technically doesn’t have to – he has people for that – but Y/N quickly found that Harry liked to be interactive with more aspects of the business than necessary. Which made for long nights like these, just the two of them, late into the evening. 

When Y/N starts feeling hot beneath the collar of her shirt, she is a little confused. The inside of Harry’s office is relatively cold, typically, because the large windows do very little to insulate the chilly air outside in the autumn and winter. Today was no different – Y/N had donned a cardigan because she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle being that cold for that long (she was actually trying to figure out how she could convince him to get a space heater without his response being that she could simply stay out at her desk), but soon stripped it off because she felt warm. Which is weird, sure, but she doesn’t question it at first. 

Not until there’s a warm swirl of arousal that curls around her lower belly while she typed out Please go back and correct the data entries from August 8th, 2026 which was objectively very unsexy. Her brows knitted to herself – was she about to start ovulating? She’s gotten randomly horny before but not like. . .not like this. From the first warmth of it tickling through her, it swells, gets bigger and bigger. Actually, it’s pretty unignorable at a point, especially when she notices her panties are getting wet too. What the fuck? 

She’s about to excuse herself to the bathroom when she looks over at Harry, who is flushed in the face with the tie of his suit undone. He also has a relatively concerned look on his face, brows dipped, and looking like he was about to start sweating. Y/N opens her mouth to ask if he’s okay, but he turns to look at her before she can, seeming mildly annoyed. 

“Y/N, where were those brownies from?” 

She swallows thickly – has his voice always sounded so attractive? Harry is hot, she could admit that – as a big, scary corporate boss, she was pleased that he was at least nice to look at rather than some old grouch she could’ve been stuck with. Still, Y/N had never had a physical reaction to his voice like this before, clenching around nothing. Feeling empty and actually wanting to whine about it, almost. 

“Um, they were sent from your friend Adam P? From a place called Philtre D’amour, I think. Is it – is it making you feel –” 

“Yes.” He answers resolutely, but Y/N wasn’t able to get her actual question out. What if he thought she was just going to ask if it was making him feel warm? Really, what Y/N needed to ask is if it was making his dick hard. She’s feeling a little breathless at the thought of it. Y/N had imagined sleeping with him many times before – Niall accuses her of having a big fat crush on him, mostly because everyone has a big fat crush on him, even if he is sort of gruff. Everyone loves a quiet, brooding type, i.e., Edward Cullen. 

Harry picks up his personal phone and taps on the screen. Y/N can’t see much except what’s reflected through the window, and it seems like he was on his messages. He doesn’t have to scroll to see what he wanted, though, because he clicks on one of the first threads at the top. He reads it, he groans, he covers his face in his hands and tips his head back. 

“Mr. Styles?” Y/N asks softly, “Who – uh – what’s wrong?” 

“I’m so sorry,” he says, and at first it is muffled by his palms, but it comes from beneath them, “My friend – I’m embarrassed to admit it, but these are aphrodisiac brownies. I told him I want to try them the other night and completely forgot about it. I didn’t think he’d send them to my work, but I guess he didn’t know what time I’d be home.” 

Y/N blinks at him. “Ohhhhh,” she giggles a little, “Oh, okay, that’s – uh – that’s better than – I thought we’d been, like, poisoned or something. So you’re – uh –” she motioned toward his crotch, and he nodded – Y/N can’t tell if the flush in his cheeks is just the brownies or embarrassment. She doesn’t think he should be embarrassed, though. If anything, it’s good that this is happening right now, when they’re alone, rather than when there’s an office full of people around, who all probably would have eaten some of the brownies if they saw Y/N with them. But maybe not – aphrodisiacs were commonly bought from different witchy, magic shops around and had become well recognizable to everyone besides Y/N, apparently. She had read up about them, though, a while ago. She knew that it was easier to work through it with a partner rather than by yourself. Like, cuts the time it lasts in half; sort of easier. 

Maybe it lowers inhibitions a little too? Or maybe Y/N would have always asked this if given the chance, but she tilts her head and inquires, “Should we – do you think we should – um. . .like take care of it?” Surely, Veda would not have highlighted this as the best course of action of what to do. She probably would’ve told her to politely remove herself from the room, taken care of it in the bathroom, and given him the privacy to do so himself. She could offer that, she guesses, but she’d rather just fuck him, really. 

“Take care of it?” He repeated slowly, like he was tasting the idea, his eyes set on her in something heavy that makes her feel even sweatier, “Do you mean. . .do you mean what I think you mean?” 

Y/N nods, “Um, yes! Yes, I think so,” she smiles softly, reassuringly, “If you don’t want to, that’s okay, I can go to the bathroom and – uh – figure something out.” 

She scratches the back of her neck, standing on slightly wobbly legs to remove herself from the room. Maybe that was too much to offer. Has Harry even slept with anyone since his whole fiancé debacle? Surely, he has, right? Harry doesn’t really have the face of someone who doesn’t fuck regularly, but Y/N doesn’t know. She can’t even imagine him flirting. 

“Wait –” Harry’s voice is soft but halts Y/N from where she was standing. “This. . .we’re just helping one another, correct?” Y/N nods, “And you wouldn’t run off and tell any other employees or –” 

“No, of course not; none of them can keep their mouths closed,” she answers, “And it’d get back to you super quick if I did.” 

His hand is pressed against his desk, fingers pushing into the table. “And this isn’t – I mean, it isn’t screwing with my head, but it isn’t screwing with your head either, is it? You’re consenting fully?” 

“I don’t feel any different head-wise,” she motions around her body, “It’s just – like, all over my body, it feels like I’m tingling, y’know? And I need to do something, or – y’know.” 

“Yeah,” he nods, swallowing hard, “Yeah, me too.” 

                                                                    .                         .                          .

The thing is, her quiet boss might actually be an incubus. 

Y/N isn’t sure. She just knows that her bottoms are removed and his knuckles deep inside of her on his sofa, petting at her g-spot with the softest gaze darting around her body. He’d already made her cum once, just from running the pads of his fingers over her swollen clit, and Y/N realizes that is a more potent aphrodisiac than she originally thought. Or maybe Y/N’s body is just susceptible to them. She isn’t sure. All she knows is that she’s pussy out in front of her boss and she’s squeezing around his fingers, trying to stop her hips from rocking into him. She thought it would’ve been more awkward, actually, but after Y/N had dropped her pants for him, he settled her on the couch and spread her open – it didn’t feel awkward. Maybe Y/N was too horny to feel awkward. 

“Jesus Christ,” he murmured beneath his breath when she clamped down on him once his thumb met her clit, still petting her inside, “Do you always get this wet? Or is it just that brownie?” 

Y/N takes a shaky breath, “I – hngh – I think I might – I have the ability too, I think; it doesn’t happen this fast usually.” Harry is methodical, slipping in a third finger. “You can fuck me now, please, I just need two so –”

“I won’t fit with just two,” he murmured, and Y/N could tell, yeah, he probably wouldn’t. The bulge in his slacks is obscene – Y/N almost choked on her spit when he stood up from behind his desk. In hindsight, she’d appreciate the extra care to stretch her, but it seems like the more he attempted to placate the arousal inside of her, the more intense it got. Like the aphrodisiac worked by getting things going and making it explosive. Her brain is running a million miles a minute, though. Harry looks so pretty, his hair sort of messed up from fingers running through it, the buttons of his shirt undone to combat the heat sweltering inside. Y/N wants to dig her nose between his pecs, but she doesn’t know if that’s allowed or not. What she does know is that his fingers feel thick inside of her – 2 was already a lot, but 3 was definitely a stretch, even with how wet she was, easing the glide of it. 

She moans after he says he wouldn’t fit – she tries not to be a size queen, but she sort of is. Y/N likes when it’s big, when it reaches so deep in her that she feels like it’s up in her throat. When she’s stretched to capacity, nothing else could fit inside, and even then she daydreams about taking two cocks one day. She doesn’t know why; it’s just what she likes. 

And even the possibility of Harry being too big for her makes her cum around his fingers. She’s unsure if she would have cum that quickly anyway or if this was a side effect of the aphrodisiac. Honestly, it could be both. Her moody, broody boss has buttons undone with his fingers inside of her, talking about how big his cock was, with the bulge to prove it – she thinks whether she’d eaten the brownie or she didn’t, she would have been squeezing around his fingers just the same. 

But the aphrodisiac doesn’t change how sensitive Y/N can get after coming, thighs trying to close around his hand while her knees click together. To Harry’s credit, he does slow to a stop, fingers still tucked away inside of her but his other palm resting on her knee. “Hm, you’re done?” He doesn’t say it angrily – a little teasing, if anything at all, and he seems sort of amused. “That was quick, Miss. Y/N.” 

“Not done,” she whines, even though she’s bucking toward and away from his hand, trying to keep him moving, “I just – sensitive – I just get sensitive, is all. But – ah!” He curls his fingers against her g-spot again, humming softly, “Keep going, I want you to keep going. It starts to feel really good.” 

“Are you sure? Your little pussy is clamped down.” He notes, petting down her thigh and spreading them a little further for him again, “Can’t move much when you’re like that – no matter how messy you are down here.” 

Y/N whines, forces herself to relax, and then Harry’s fingers start to move again. The sensitive feeling builds, and she curls her toes to try and stay still, but she can barely think, actually. Especially when Harry scoots backward, curls forward, and latches his mouth against her clit without a second thought. The sound that leaves her chest is startled, guttural; Harry sucks on her clit with zero regard to the fact that she’d just cum, and it makes it even more intense, while he pets against her spongy bundle of nerves inside. It’s swollen against his tongue with his lips snug around it. Her brain is nothing but the sound of a washing machine while the sensitivity starts to ease into something better – carefully unweaving any knot in her body. 

A muffled moan vibrates through her, but he doesn’t let up. Y/N’s mouth hung open stupidly, the muscles in her belly burning as she kept thrusting toward his mouth. Once the raw sizzling of her prior orgasm wanes and the new one begins to build, it feels ten times more intense. Harry squeezes in a fourth finger while he swipes his tongue back and forth over her clit, and Y/N’s thighs begin to tremble. She clutches the back of her legs instead of his hair, as she wants to. Y/N isn’t sure if that’s allowed or not. The way he’s looking up at her from where he is between her legs seems like he might like it, but she doesn’t want to risk it – not when another orgasm starts to spin her out of orbit. 

It comes even quicker than the first. This time Y/N’s whole body shakes, once again squeezing her legs shut; this time it’s around his head. He giggles against her, another muffled sound as he works her through it. This time, when it gets to be too much, Y/N pushes at his forehead until he lets her clit out of his mouth, jumping when he – with an outstretched tongue –  licks at it one more time before finally leaving her be. Strings of spit and arousal cling to his open mouth — he even drools over her a little, adding to the wet mess beneath him. 

It’s too much, too good; her brain tries to connect things, but every new thought is replaced by intense, all-encompassing heat. His hand strokes up and down her pussy, watching as she twitches and jumps from it. 

Harry laughs softly, “Hm? Still okay?” He pets down 

“Yes,” she pouts, “Why does it – why does it feel like it’s only affecting me?” 

Harry slides his sticky, wet fingers over to her inner thigh, which would make her cringe if her skin wasn’t burning from the inside out. He presses her open, but his gaze leaves her slit and lingers over her face, “I can assure you that I’m not doing well, by any means,” he admits, honestly. “I’m just having trouble deciding between wanting to bury my face in your cunt or my cock.” 

“Cock, please.” Y/N raises her hips toward him, begging, even though she thinks if anything else touches her, she might melt. It’ll be too much, surely, but right now being empty feels like misery. “Want it, I want it, Mr. Styles, please, please, please.” 

He smiles softly, and Y/N doesn’t know if she’s ever seen a smile so soft from him before, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think my cute little assistant has a crush on me.” He reaches down and starts to work on his belt, moving with an ease and precision that Y/N could only imagine comes with time and practice, working around an intense bulge between the legs of someone. 

Does Y/N have a little crush on him? Of course she does. Everyone sort of has a crush on Harry, even though he’s a little scary and not the most amicable. He’s hot, and he walks around like he knows his dick is big, and he always smells really good. Even smells good now, while he’s sweating at the end of the day. 

That doesn’t mean she necessarily wants to be called out on it. But she’s not in the business of lying either, so instead she just bucks her hips toward him again, stroking against his cock just a little after he’d fished himself out of his boxers. The tip smacks wetly on her clit, both swollen and sticky, and their moans meld into one another when they feel it. Harry grips his shaft at the base, then fishes around in his pocket for his wallet. He tugs out a condom and tears into the foil, rolling the latex over his prick. Y/N doesn’t notice the way her lip puffs out – she knew it was smart, obviously, but she also wants to feel him bare. She loves being fucked bare, and she loves being creampied, and if she could be fucked bare and creampied by Harry right now, she thinks she’d evaporate. 

He strokes down from her clit to her hole, open and weeping. Harry presses in slowly, stretching her out even just with the tip. Her mouth falls open – even though he’d stretched her beforehand, it feels like she’s being opened up to capacity as he sinks inside her.  Y/N mewls, face screwed up in something she could only imagine was an ugly look. Harry got in deeper, past the point where he’d need to hold himself open for her. He rocks his hips a little, getting deeper and deeper, further and further. Her thighs were twitching, moving, squeezing around him until he was snug inside her, pushed up against her bum and throbbing. 

Y/N is still sensitive from her previous orgasms, so once he starts moving his hips, she almost explodes into several pieces. He fucks into her quickly right off the bat, speaking to how worked up he was too, and he feels even harder inside of her than he looked. With every thrust inside of her, she can feel him throb, and it makes her dizzy and fuzzy, her insides getting probed with his prick. Y/N squirms when he hits her g-spot, already feeling tender from how his fingers had been petting and stroking. 

Is her brain leaking out of her ears? That’s how it sort of feels right now. Never in her life has she touched Harry as familiarly as she is now, grabbing his arms and shoulders, scrambling for something to hold onto to steady herself. Harry has one hand pressed to her head and the other holding her chin, fingers pinching around her jaw. “God, you’re fucking tight,” he grunts, “Can’t tell if it’s because I didn’t stretch you enough or because you keep clenching down on me.” 

“S’too much,” she whines, “Don’t stop.” 

He chuckles again – he must really find her funny – and keeps working his hips inside of her. It doesn’t take much for her to cum again, and the muscles in her belly are starting to feel sore from how much they’re tensing. She’s stuck between wanting to fight the overstimulation and sinking into it, reveling in it. Y/N knows she can cum multiple times in a row; it’s just a lot for her to do so – aphrodisiac be damned. But it does feel good to be pushed past her limits. To hear the clap of his balls meeting her bum, feel the tip kiss at her cervix, and hear how wet she is, leaking over his thick cock. 

His thumb pets at her mouth, plucking and pulling at her bottom lip, “You’re cute,” he murmurs softly, “You’ve always been cute, but you’re even cuter like this. Maybe I should hire you to keep my cock nice and warm since the weather is getting colder.” She squeezes down on him. “Oh, you like that, don’t you, Sweetheart?” 

This time, when she cums, tears start to leak from the corner of her eyes. It’s intense, rattling through her like lightning struck her bones. The sound of them squelching together is so lewd, she can barely hear it past the noise in her ears. Harry fucks her steadily through it, even when Y/N starts bucking toward and away from him, hips indecisive about what she wanted, though her brain knew. She wanted Harry to fuck her full and hard until he came, even if it meant. 

“You like it to be sensitive, hm?” He confirmed again, and Y/N nodded, whining. 

“Yeah, want – want you to fuck me until I – ngh – until I’m loose and sloppy for you. Want it to – want it to hurt a little.” 

Harry growls, scoops his arms beneath her back, and presses her close as he fucks into her quickly. It’s a lot, after having just cum, and the arousal sears through her like a sun ray, toes curling so tightly that they cramp up. She squeals a sound, loud and a little squeaky in his ear, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He moans too, vibrating through his chest. They’re pressed so closely and tightly together that she feels it echo off of her ribcage. She wishes they were more naked; honestly, she wants to feel him skin-to-skin. 

He snakes one hand between them and rubs at her clit, more tears leaking from her eyes, but she nods against his throat. She already feels all used up in the best way; she wonders if he could keep going all night. 

This time, when she cums, she is completely silent, trembling through it, squeezing weakly around him. By the time her voice finds her again, it’s to release probably the most pathetic-sounding cry she’d ever heard from herself. Surprisingly, it does make him kiss the side of her head, at her temple. His lips feel soft as he slows down inside of her, “Mhm,” he runs the tip of his nose over hers momentarily, but he pulls back quickly, almost like he forgot where they were and what they were doing, “You look so fucking pretty like this. I’m going to fuck you all night.” 

Y/N thinks he couldn’t have said anything better.