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1D Fanfiction - Us (With All the Benefits) (Niall/girl!Harry)
Bill Nails
Title: Us (With All the Benefits)
Rating: NC17
Genre and/or Pairing: PWP - Niall/cisgirl!Harry
Warnings: None
Kinks: Cunnilingus, friends with benefits
Word Count: 2,340
Notes: UM SO I WROTE A THING. This kink meme prompt (Anyone/Girl!Harry, preferably Niall/Harry with Harry getting eaten the fuck out) was already filled once, but as I'd already started writing this I thought I might as well finish it. It got a little bit super dirty oop. Also on AO3.
Summary: What Harry wants, she usually gets. What Harry wants is Niall's mouth. It's just a thing they do.

Us (With All the Benefits)

The thing is – Niall shares a tour bus with Harry and it’s inevitable that they end up finding various ways of passing the time together. Sometimes they’ll crash in front of the TV with a few beers so that they can watch a film or catch up on back-to-back comedies until they fall asleep. Sometimes they’ll read trashy magazines and laugh at the most ridiculous stories they find in them, or they’ll play FIFA on the Xbox until 2am.

Sometimes, Niall will pick Harry up by her waist and balance her on the breakfast counter and she’ll wriggle, laughing, out of her too-tight jeans and her little black knickers; he’ll lick her out until she’s shuddering against the unrelenting pressure of his mouth, three of his fingers stuffed knuckle-deep in her cunt and stroking her from the inside in time with the pulse-pulse-pulse of blood he feels under her fever-hot skin.

It’s no big deal.


Niall likes Harry because they’re similar people, in a lot of ways, where it matters, and they’re not so similar in the ways it doesn’t, which keeps things interesting.

They’re both chilled, laid back people and Harry treats sex like a hobby, which Niall likes; there’s no drama or expectations, just plenty of fun and shagging and orgasms with his absolute best mate in the world and it’s just really fucking good, is all.


“What do y’think?” Harry asks him in her slow, low drawl, twirling around barefoot in front of the sofa and nearly tripping over her own feet, blocking Niall’s view of MTV. She’s wearing the tiniest little black pleated skirt along with a strappy little top with no bra underneath, and her tits and arse look out of this world.

“At least you’ve got clothes on for once, you naked menace,” Niall tells her, looking her up and down, and she sticks her tongue out at him and then does a little wiggle of a dance which is clearly meant to look stupid but her tits are bouncing wonderfully under the flimsy fabric of her top, so there’s that.

Niall laughs anyway, because Harry’s an idiot, and kicks out with his feet, nudging at her ankles with his toes. “I think you’re blocking m’view of the telly, Hazza,” he says, and she pouts exaggeratedly at him, eyes big and green.

“Do you like it, though? The outfit?” she says, twisting a ringlet of hair around her finger in a perfect spiral. “For going out on the piss, and that. But with a bra on, underneath, obviously.”

“Oh, underwear on, like? That’d look shite, mate, take the whole thing back to the shop and get your money back,” Niall teases. “C’mere, let me have a feel, maybe that’ll help.”

Harry rolls her eyes but goes to him anyway, standing in front of the sofa between Niall’s spread legs. He gets a hand on the side of each of her bare knees, stroking up, up, up, and pausing with just the tips of his fingers under the skirt. Harry blinks down at him; slow, waiting.

Niall makes a move like he’s about to keep going, just put his hands all the way up there, but they slide only a fraction and then he stops and gently presses blunt fingernails into the meat of her thighs; her breath hitches, just the tiniest bit, and he loves it.

“Don’t be a tease, you prick,” she groans, and Niall simply smiles up at her. “If you want to finger me, just do it.”

“I thought I was meant to be looking at the skirt?” Niall frowns, shaking his head. He slides his fingers up another inch, smooth skin under his palms. “I feel like I’ve been set up here, to be honest. Used, like.”

“Fuck off,” she says, mouth quirking up at one corner. “I’m sure your dick says otherwise.”

“And what would you know about my dick?” he grins, his thumbs rubbing tiny circles against Harry’s inner thighs in a way that makes her eyelashes flutter for a moment before she composes herself. God, he loves it, winding her up slow and lazy until she’s desperate for it, one step at a time.

“Quite a lot, actually,” she smirks. “Only part of you I actually like, mate.”

Niall laughs softly. “That’s definitely not true,” he says, and holds her gaze. “Y’like my mouth, don’t you?”

There’s a tiny tremor in her legs as he says it, a tension brought out by his words. He wonders what she’s thinking about. The time he put her on her hands and knees on the bed and ate her out until she was begging him to fuck her, maybe; or perhaps remembering the image of his head between her legs as she lay on the soft white carpet of an overpriced hotel room, hot and wet, Niall brazenly mouthing at her cunt and finding her clit with his tongue over and over for an hour until she couldn’t take any more. Or yesterday, even, when he lifted her up next to the bathroom sink and ate her out right there, glitter makeup dusting her fingers from where she’d spilt it in her hurry to spread her legs for him; her cries of yes, fuck, fuck yes echoing around the tiny bathroom.

“Yeah,” Harry breathes. She brushes her thumb gently against his lower lip, looking at him fondly, and he presses a kiss to it, making her smile.

Niall’s done with waiting, her arse too much of a temptation, and he lets his hands slide around to give her a squeeze, finding nothing but bare skin with a jolt that goes straight to his cock. He rubs his fingers over her hips, searching, but – nope.

“Ah, taking the ‘no underwear’ thing all the way then, today, are we?” he grins.

“You know me,” she says, and her tongue pushes into her cheek obscenely for a fleeting moment. “Easy access.”

Niall laughs at that, and gets one hand right up between her legs, finally. Even standing with her legs slightly apart it’s not the greatest angle, and he can’t quite see what he’s doing with the skirt in the way, but what the hell; it just makes it easier to tease her this way.

He cups his palm over her cunt, stroking his middle finger back and forth over her lips a couple of times before plunging it inside. He can’t push in very far, but she lets out a little groan anyway at finally being penetrated; now that he’s parted the soft, dry seam of her she feels so slick around his finger, leaking onto his knuckles, nothing to keep it inside. His mouth is watering already.

“Can I see?” he asks her, and she hoists the skirt up at the front obligingly, eyes darker and less focused than before, so he can admire her nakedness and the ever-hot sight of his hand between her legs. He grinds the palm of his hand against her clit where he’s cupping her, crooking the finger that’s inside her, and Harry shakes a little with a sharp intake of breath.

“Fuck, Niall,” she groans. “God, get your fingers in me properly before I do it myself.”

“Better come here then, hadn’t ya?” he says, flashing a cheeky grin. He lets his fingers drag down her inner thigh on the way down, leaving glossy streaks in their wake.

He leans back on the sofa, pulling off his t-shirt, and Harry clambers on top, all long legs and curves. She settles on his lap, straddling him, and when she kisses him it’s so good, her red, red mouth and the taste of her cherry lip balm. Her cunt is a hot pressure in his lap, her weight settled over his cock. When he bucks up the tiniest bit into it and she moans wantonly into his mouth, he realises she’ll be getting his jeans wet, soaking right through to his cock if they stay like this long enough, and it only gets him harder.

He encourages her up, though, balanced on her knees with her legs spread apart, because this is what she asked for (and what Harry asks for, she usually gets). He slips two fingers inside of her, slow, and she tosses her head back, eyes closing with a hitched little breath of relief. He moves them in a slow circle, pressing against her walls, and she shifts her weight so she can ride his fingers while snogging him senseless. His other hand cups her tits, pinches her nipples, pulls her hair and does anything else he can think of to ensure she keeps on making the gorgeous sounds she’s making right now.

“Jesus, Haz, so fucking wet,” he tells her in a tumble of words. “Can I lick you out? Please?”

“Fuck, yeah, want your mouth,” she says. Niall’s hand is wet to his wrist with her slick when he pulls his fingers out. She lays out on the sofa, one knee propped up on the seat and her other foot on the floor, and wriggles out of her clothes impatiently.

Niall takes a moment to admire her tits, because they’re just really fucking fantastic thank-you-very-much, but she smells so good and feels so good that it’s only a matter of seconds before he’s got his head buried between her legs, mouth on her cunt with absolutely no teasing or holding back.

“God, Niall,” Harry cries out, one hand kneading at one of her tits and the other clutching at the back of the sofa.

He loops an arm under her knee that’s propped up on the sofa, pushing it back to spread her out further, and uses his thumb and his fingers to spread her cunt open so that he can alternate between sucking softly over the hood of her clit and licking inside her. There’s something stupidly addictive about the way she tastes, better than anyone else he’s ever been with, and he can’t get enough.

She fucks up against his mouth, hot little punches with her hips as she tries to ride his mouth, and when he groans against her in response she trembles around him. It’s an actual effort to pull his mouth away, even just for a moment.

“Fingers?” he says, and her whole body jerks when he bites gently at the inside of her thigh.

“Um,” she says dazedly. “Two. Do the thing,” and yeah, Niall can do the thing. He’s great at the thing. He pushes two fingers inside her, feeling her clench hot and wet around him, and keeps them there right up to the knuckle as he crooks one and then the other inside her, a relentless press-and-drag against her g-spot that makes her almost sob with pleasure.

“Yeah, god, there, Jesus, your mouth, gonna come on your fingers, fuck Nialler,” she babbles, and Niall has to grind his cock against the sofa for a second, riding the twist of pleasure in his gut, before he can collect himself.

Harry’s moving so much he has to attempt to hold her down with his free arm, pinning her in place as she writhes and moans and begs him to keep going as though anything in the world could get him to stop right now.

Niall can feel how close she is, her body tense, and he gets a third finger inside her so he can fuck her with them, deep and rough; it’s filthy, the wet sound of his fingers thrusting in and out of her hot little cunt. She grasps at his hair, breath coming in high-pitched little gasps that build up and up and then she comes hard, her whole body shaking as he licks her through it. He keeps at it until she’s oversensitive and jumpy, and then he breathes over her cunt as he pulls away, warm and gentle to make her moan softly with a tiny twitch of her hips.

Sitting back on his heels, Niall wipes his glossy-wet mouth and chin with the back of his hand, licking his lips to savour the taste. He gets up and peels his jeans off because they’re getting uncomfortable, adjusting himself in his boxers, and gives himself a few slow pulls; Harry’s watching him from where she’s still sprawled on the sofa, and she gives a happy little hum of approval. He’s so hard, but he loves it; getting Harry off and dragging out his own release as long as possible to make it all the sweeter.

“God, fuck me,” Harry begs him, all loose-limbed and relaxed, legs spread and her chest heaving beautifully. “C’mon, put your cock in me, fuck.”

His cock jerks wetly in his boxers, and it’s so very tempting. He loves getting her as wet as possible before he fucks her, making her come until it’s dripping out of her; her own slick, and the spit from his over-eager mouth. He can already see it, a clear image in his mind; rolling on the condom, draping one of her legs over each of his arms. Letting the head of his cock catch at her entrance, pressed against her but not pushing in until she’s begging and writhing for it before he finally shoves inside her pliant body, her already well-fucked cunt in one hard slide ‘til he’s balls deep in her and she can just take the pounding he wants to give her without so much as a pause.

It’s tempting, but she’s only come once so far, and Niall is a patient man. Harry makes a grabby-hands motion at him. “C’mon, fuck me,” she goads him. She still hasn’t actually sat up, too orgasm-drunk to move yet.

Niall ignores her, kissing his way upwards from her knee and scraping his teeth over her inner thigh to make her shiver prettily. He bats her hand away when she tries to push her own fingers inside herself, gagging for it.

“No,” he tells her, “later,” and when his tongue flicks over her clit again he gets no argument in return.


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