KINKTOBER WEEK 4: Harry accidentally takes viagra (Patreon)

SOOOOOO!! ON the survey, this was titled mean!Harry accidentally takes Viagra, but it changed less from mean Harry and more from mutually mean to each other harry and y/n!! SO EVERYONE IS LOWKEY BULLYING EVERYBODY; it isn't one-sided!!

BUT IF YOU WANT ONE WHERE HE'S JUST A DICKHEAD then i can do one like that too!

FOR NOW I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS!!

(3.3k+ words)

i.

Harry is fucked. 

He is so fucked. 

For several reasons, the first being that it’s Tuesday and he somehow had been recruited to help Niall move into his new flat with the aid of his boss from work. Niall’s family would be here helping if they weren’t all in Ireland, and they would’ve flown out to help if they’d known what had been happening. Niall and his roommate did not get along at all – but while Niall was civil with his dislike, his roommate was very rude, messy, and getting comfortable saying increasingly homophobic things. 

So, without telling him, Niall broke his part of the lease after an extensive conversation with the landlord, packed up all his shit over the course of a couple of weeks (and kept his door locked so he wouldn’t see the boxes), then waited for a Tuesday because this was one of the nights he spent at his girlfriend’s, who lived about 45-ish minutes away. Harry, of course, had agreed because he wanted Niall out of a bad situation. Plus, Niall’s boss was pretty nice – all things considered – he wouldn’t mind spending time with him. And Niall would pay them in food, so Harry could probably convince him to order something nice for them to eat. 

But then he turns up at Niall's new flat with a load of boxes stuffed in his car, and Y/N is sitting in his new living room, carefully putting together a coffee table. Which is the second reason he’s fucked. 

The thing is – he and Y/N can’t stand each other. They never have been able to, actually – Harry thought she was just the worst type of brat in the world. She was whiny and spoiled rotten by their mutual friends, and they got into an intense, heated ‘film-bro-esque-debate’ (a title coined by Niall Horan) over which franchise was best. And she’d been so unwilling to hear him out that it left a sour taste in his mouth (the gimlet he’d been drinking didn’t help either). It was a horrific first impression, and they’d been at each other’s throats ever since, more or less. It didn’t help that Harry’s baseline is a grumpy prick on a good day either, so it wasn’t like he was making a great impression either. 

And while Harry barely wants to spend his Tuesday moving heavy boxes up and down three flights of stairs because the only working elevator is out of order, he even less wants to spend it with the brattiest woman he’s met in history. Especially when she looked up from where she was screwing in a leg, saw it was him, rolled her eyes, and went back to working. Harry scoffed, “Well, hello to you too, brat.” He grumbled. 

“I didn’t say hello.” She replied, and okay, wow – so that’s how the day was going to go? 

But whatever, Harry can just ignore her, so he does. They duck and weave around each other – if Harry walks into a room, Y/N will find an excuse to leave it and start something else, and vice versa. Niall is used to this behavior, and Niall’s boss doesn’t seem to notice it (or if he does, he’s very polite and doesn’t bring it up). This is how they always are together, ever since they met one another, and everyone just puts up with it because, for some reason, they have a lot of mutual friends. 

His third problem is that he tweaks his shoulder when lifting one of the boxes. It was one of the heavier kitchen ones, and when he wobbled on a step, he’d moved in a way to stop himself from falling that pulled a muscle across his shoulder blade. It is a dull ache, but an ache nonetheless, and one he can’t stop grimacing over. Niall does treat them to a meal – some greasy pizza that he’d ordered (one that’s big, flat pieces that are drippy with cheese and too much sauce in the best way), and he has a soda that’s lukewarm at best, but it’s still pretty good. Though his shoulder is still aching, and apparently all of the OTC meds at Niall’s old place were his stupid ass friend. 

“Oh, I have some,” Niall’s boss told him, then reached into his bag on the ground and pulled out a small container with seven dividers and various pills. He plucked one out to hand to him, and Harry took it gratefully – Niall did too – and Y/N finished off her pizza with a sigh. 

“I need a ride home,” Y/N stated, then looked at Harry. They lived in the same direction, but she’d been a brat all day; why would he help her out? 

“That sucks,” he replied, “Take a cab.” 

“A cab? What are you, 90?” 

Niall snorted. “You’re really not helping your case, baby.” He squeezed Y/N’s thigh, “Be nice to him, and he might.” 

The thing is, Niall has always thought they needed to fuck out their feelings, and they would be okay. He talks like he knows that both of them want to sleep together, but like. . .Harry thinks she’s beautiful, but her attitude is trash. And Y/N thinks Harry is just worse than the butt of a bread loaf, so he can’t imagine that Y/N wants anything to do with his dick. 

“I’ll pay you,” she told him, “And I won’t be shitty the whole drive, Scout's honor.” Y/N placed a hand over her heart, her other hand held up, palm facing out like she was taking an oath, “This is much easier than me redownloading, making awkward small talk, all that.” Harry opens his mouth to deny her, because he doesn’t care what’s easier for her, but then she followed it up with, “Plus, there’s apparently some creepy guy who’s been trying to pick up women, and I don’t want someone like that knowing where I live. So. . .please.” 

And, well. . Y/N sucks, but he also remembers seeing that. He has a sister; he would want someone to say yes to her if she was nervous enough to ask someone she disliked to help her out. Even if it sounded like she’d rather swallow shards of rock than say please to him. 

“Alright.” He agreed, “But you better keep your end of the deal – don’t be annoying.” 

That had been his fourth problem, he’d realized, as Y/N was getting into the passenger seat of his car. 

The next two problems kind of warp into each other, though. Harry starts feeling. . .funny; his face, he can tell, is flushed pink when he looks in the rearview mirror, like whenever he goes for a jog in the morning. His heart is beating sort of quick, but he’d figured it was just a physical reaction to being in such close proximity with someone he doesn’t like. Almost like he’s gearing up for an argument before they even get to have it. And he hadn’t slept well the night before; maybe that’s why he was a little fuzzy around the edges, after doing hard labor right when he got off work.

That he could explain away. What he couldn’t was his cock being hard. Not just a little either – not a half chub he could tuck away and ignore, or even his typical level of erect, that was difficult to hide despite his size, but he could still manage something until he got home. No, Harry was rock fucking solid – hard enough that when he readjusted in his seat, he had to bite on his bottom lip to stop himself from whimpering. What the hell? He even looked down at his crotch to confirm it, and yeah – he was so fucking hard, it was insane. He thinks if he took it out right now, the sound it would make slapping against his stomach would echo through the city. Was he hard because of her? Y/N had always stirred a lot of different reactions inside of his body. Sometimes you accidentally have the best chemistry with someone you consider your enemy, it’s why enemies-to-lovers is such a popular trope. And it wouldn’t be the first time he’s gotten hard because of her, but it would be the first time in person, for sure. 

But whatever, he can try his best to ignore that. He lives around 20-ish minutes away from Niall’s new place, and Y/N lives at the halfway point between the two. Just ten minutes in the car, he could manage that, and then he’d be hard alone at least. 

. . .until his tire pressure light came on. And suddenly, Harry’s side of the car feels like it’s riding a little lower than the rest of it. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He murmurs, mostly to himself, but Y/N is looking over at him with furrowed brows, peering over the middle console to see his dashboard. Normally he’d tell her to mind her business, but he does not have it in him to argue with her right now. Harry slowly pulls over to the side of the road, grumbling low in his chest to himself. At the same time, his phone sounds over the speaker, and Y/N takes it upon herself to answer the call for him. 

“Ni, Harry is trying to kill me.” 

“I am not,” he cuts in before Niall can respond. “I must’ve run over a screw or something, so my tire is flat.” 

Niall groans, “Oh, god, man, that’s shit,” he replies, “And on top of that, I have insane news to tell you: Benjamin lowkey gave us Viagra by accident instead of paracetamol.” 

Harry’s mouth falls open; his head turns to Y/N, who is also agape – only her face is filled with relative glee. She might be a monster, for sure. “You’re fucking kidding me,” he said, resting his head on the steering wheel, “Isn’t that supposed to be blue or something? How did he mix them up?” 

“Apparently the generic brand is white. He went to go take one for himself but realized it at the last minute, right before he did. And now I’m hard as fucking stone, so –  I figured you were in the same boat.” 

He huffs another sigh, “Yeah, I’m not doing well.” 

“Okay, well, let me know when you get your tire sorted, Mate. I wish I had a car to help, but even if I did, I don’t know if I could focus with this thing. Fuck, do older dudes really do this? When the hell does it go down? Have you ever changed a tire with a stiffy?” 

“I’m hanging up now.” Harry reaches blindly and clicks the button, ending the call. He holds out a finger to her, “Not a fucking word.” 

Y/N scoffs, “I didn’t even say anything yet!” 

“Yeah, but when you do, I know it’s going to be stupid.” 

She makes another affronted sound, “Okay, well, I was going to offer to help you, but if you’re going to be a dick about it.” 

“What do you know about changing a tire?” He inquires, “You can barely lift a box of pots and pans, let alone jack up a car.” 

There’s a brief moment of silence, almost like she’s debating whether to speak or not, before saying, “I wasn’t talking about the tire.” 

Harry pauses – his breath, his thoughts – and then lifts his head to look at her. She looks a little shy, for the first time in her life in front of him. Which means he’s reading this situation correctly, especially when he looks between his legs and then looks at her. Y/N nods before he can say anything, but still, he peers at her untrustingly. “Is this a prank?” 

She sighs, “What good would that do me? So you’ll leave me on the side of the road?” Y/N points at his crotch. “I need you at your best to change the tire, and also if an assailant comes after us, and you can’t do that if all the blood is in your dick. So I’m offering to get you off.”

And, like. . .sue him, because maybe he does say yes without really thinking about it. One moment he’s sitting with her, uncomfortable and irritated, and the next, he’s popping open the button of his trousers and fishes his cock out from his briefs. It’s ridiculous, really, how hard he is – he could poke someone’s eye out, he thinks. Y/N’s mouth falls open again at the sight, before reaching out to him. “You’re shitting me,” she chokes on a scoff, “You’re fucking huge! Of course an asshole like you would have a huge dick.” 

“Are you – ah –” her fingers curl delicately around his cock, and he can admit they look pretty doing it too. She’d just gotten her nails done the other day – he can tell these were a fresh set, because she’d been wincing a little when she did certain things. It’s dark enough outside that nobody can really see into the car, but how the moon is cutting through the windshield gives him a nice view of it. Especially now that his eyes have adjusted to the night. “Are you gonna be bratty while we do this?” 

She turns her face to him, dragging her gaze away from his cock (with great effort, it seems). “No,” she answers, in the brattiest way she could, “No, I’m a good girl. I’m a good girl all the time actually, you’re just mean, so I’m not for you.”

Does viagra make you more sensitive? Or just harder? Harry isn’t sure –  but every caress of her soft palm against his shaft makes him leak more, and it feels like he might be going crazy. The way her hand glides across him smears the precum that was dripping from him like a broken faucet. Y/N seems enamored by it, truly, as she pulls her hand away and spreads her fingers, showing off the sticky strings connecting them, before going back to it. 

“Maybe I wouldn’t be so mean if you were good for me.” 

What is he talking about? He doesn’t know. Or, well, he kind of does. Y/N was nicer to him, then he’d probably be obsessed with her, especially since she somehow knows exactly how he touches himself. Had she read his mind that the base, just above his balls, is tender and sensitive in the best way, for an insistent thumb to rub circles against it? Or when she slides up, massages the head with her palm, curling her fingers around and moving them along his shaft while she did it. He almost drools, head tilting back, chin tilting up, “Fuck.” 

“Well, “men aren’t nice to women they don’t find attractive”, so –” 

Harry’s brows furrow. “What? What are you talking about?” His hips cant toward her hand, meeting her on a tight downstroke. “I do think you’re attractive?” 

Y/N’s hand pauses, and Harry whines at the loss, despite her not taking it away. He reaches down, grabbing for her wrist and bucking his cock into her hand again, but he settles when he looks over, and she seems genuinely perplexed. 

“But after we fought the first time – when we met,” she recalls, “I came back from the bathroom, and you said that – I heard you. So I went back to the bar to get another drink and dance, so I didn’t cry or beat you up.” 

It’s a cruel thing, really, asking Harry to remember something from so long ago, but he does rack his brain for the details. Vaguely does he remember Y/N disappearing in the bathroom for what felt like a long time, only for her to reemerge with a drink and looking sweaty from dancing, eyeing him like he was the biggest douche alive. He also remembers speaking to their friend Adam about some coworker drama, where their old boss was increasingly shitty to this quiet, sort of mousy brunette but almost overenthusiastically kind to any blonde with blue eyes. And Harry remembers quoting what he’d seen online about it. 

. . .but this whole time Y/N thought he’d been talking about her?

So he explains it to her, cock out and throbbing in her hand. Y/N looks like she’s reconsidering a lot of things, her face warped into a look of contemplative thought. “But you were. . .you were always so mean to me?” 

“Because you were bratty and mean right back!” He answers, “I thought you didn’t like me, so I’d be shitty too.” 

Y/N squeezes his prick in her hand and Harry whimpers – he isn’t proud of it, but it does slither out before he can get a handle on it. 

“Harry,” she begins, “Move your seat back?” 

“Huh?” 

“Move it back,” she orders again, and Harry listens, moving it back and leaning the backrest down too. Y/N unbuckles her seatbelt, pressing over the middle console. “I’m feeling a little stupid,” she tells him, “And silly. But that doesn’t negate all the mean things you’ve said to me since either.” 

He swallows hard, “I know,” he murmurs, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that’s what you thought in the first place. I would’ve cleared it up had I known. I think you’re very beautiful; I always have – it’s why I’ve never ever insulted your appearance, besides that just being a shitty thing to do anyway.” 

She leans forward, opens her mouth, and slips the head right in. Harry almost screams, a shocked gasp leaving his mouth as he immediately throbs against her tongue. It’s warm, wet, and silky in there – so amazingly soft inside. His heart is about to beat out of his chest – he’s almost certain of it. Y/N moans around him, the vibrations shaking through him while she keeps her fingers curled around the base. 

One of his hands finds her head, petting through her hair, taking what is draped over her face and curling it back behind her ear. She shivers, like it feels good, so he keeps doing it for her. 

“Silly thing,” he murmurs, letting his thumb drag along the stretch of her mouth around him, “I – ngh – you are good, aren’t you? M’sorry,” he apologizes again, “I could never think a pretty thing like you was ugly.” 

Y/N moans again and takes him deeper, until the head is nestled in the back of her throat. Harry has to bite down on his knuckle to keep from being too loud, as it tightens around him, a scorching heat slithering up his spine. His orgasm bubbles in his gut, building into something that might feel a little explosive. His fingers curl into her hair instead of petting it, gripping at her scalp. It’s when she pulls back, leaving him even wetter from her throat and tonguing at his slit, that Harry tells her, “You’re g’na make me cum.” It gets her hand moving again too, and that’s all he needs to be catapulted over the edge. He groans, fights his hips to keep still so he doesn’t choke her, but she must not trust him fully yet because she pulled off anyway. This unintentionally gives her a facial, as he throbs and shoots all over her face too. She closes her eyes just in time, but it’s dripping all over her cheeks, her lashes, the pretty curve of her nose. 

Was it too much for him to lean forward and start kissing and licking it off her face? Probably. Does he do it anyway? He sure does. He pays extra mind to suck it off her lips too, flicking his tongue over the seam of her mouth before backing up a little. 

She looks all over his face, like she’s searching for something, but when his cock twitches in her hand she looks down again. Harry is still insanely hard – it didn’t flag, even a little bit. 

“You need to change the tire,” Y/N tells him, “And then I want to feel this inside of me. I want you to make me cum a lot to make up for hurting my feelings on accident. Okay?” 

Harry breathes out a soft laugh, nodding. 

“Yeah,” he replies, “Hold the flashlight for me?”