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harrysonlylover · 13 days

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Ride Along*

Summary: Y/n is feeling bored alone at her apartment, so Harry takes her for a ride.

A continuation to Discipline.

Trope: Agent Harry

WC: 6.3k

Warnings: mentions of speeding, a pinch of meanrry, smut, degradation, choking, face spitting, unprotected sex, implications of somnophilia, after care.

A/n: The writing is a bit rusty because it’s been a while since I wrote smut😬

Main Masterlist | Agent Harry Masterlist

Y/n was placed on house arrest by Harry for a week, and it was torturous.

Perhaps “house arrest” is a bit dramatic but she felt suffocated. She could leave her apartment whenever she wanted. Harry’s insistence on her relaxation was clear, and he only meant for her to avoid any activities that require physical exertion.

Anyone would be thrilled to have a week off from work, but it was rather confusing for Y/n. Although she hadn’t been an agent for long, she adapted quickly to the agent lifestyle which was hard to suddenly pause.

Even with Harry’s confirmation and reassurance that he wasn’t disappointed, she still felt the need to occupy her time with something useful.

There was absolutely nothing in her apartment that could pass away time. At least nothing that interested her.

She cleaned up a bit, reorganized the living room, and stuck to the meals that Harry sent for her daily. They weren’t bad actually, except for the spinach soup that made her want to puke.

With no one accompanying her but Tim Tim and her thoughts, she realized how nice and caring it is to send someone customized meals. If someone heard her say it out loud, they’d snort in her face but—they just don’t know Harry and his personality.

He texted her every day at least twice. At first, she thought he only did so to make sure she ate the meals and took her supplement (which would be considered too kind coming from him), but slowly he began diverting from those topics asking her about her day and chatting with her.

He gave her updates on the agency and promised to pass by her apartment only to bail on her because of an emergency that required his presence.

On day 4 she was fully annoyed. She couldn’t handle being away from the agency for long, and even if she could go out and enjoy her time away—she didn’t know where to go.

She didn’t lead a normal life, no agent did and she was completely okay with it. She had no one to check up on or call to hang out with. The idea of going out somewhere alone felt weird. She would feel like an imposter amongst a sea of normal people.

She buried the eerie feelings and decided to spam Harry with texts to annoy him a bit.

Y/n: I’m gonna pass by the agency :)

She pressed the send button and waited for his reply as she heated her lunch for the day.

His reply was almost automatic as if he didn’t have a load of responsibilities.

Harry: No.

Y/n: Yes.

Harry: I said no Y/n.

She huffed in frustration before remembering that if she could be a menace at the agency, then she could be a menace over text too.

Y/n: Too bad I’m already on my way.

Harry: Don’t test me.

Y/n: 😜

Harry: Are you disobeying me?

She choked on a piece of meat when she read his reply, and immediately reached for a cup of water. She wiped her mouth, staring at his text in confusion. It wasn’t strictly sexual, but it was a phrase that he always used during sex, because one thing that he combined between his professional and sex life was discipline, and Y/n adored it.

She loved his attitude, how he dared her to go against his orders or defy him. It wasn’t that she liked getting punished or sought pain—it was more of a need to observe him being dominant. The way he manhandled her and treated her like nothing but a toy, only for him to hold her to his chest right after.

Another text from Harry pulled her out of her fantasies and daydreams.

Harry: You’re well aware of how I feel about you disobeying me, right?

Y/n: Yes. I do.

Her response was automatic as if it was generated and not typed quickly by her. She wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.

Harry: Good Girl.

Motherfucker. He knew what he was doing. After all, he had her memorized by heart, and he probably was aware of how close she was to drooling. The meal in front of her didn’t appeal to her anymore because she had a different type of meal on her mind.

It had been a while since they hooked up and it was a rushed quickie behind closed doors at the agency. He kneeled on the ground to eat her out in no longer than five minutes before having to return to the training. He knew her body like the palm of his hand and had her panting and biting on her bottom lip in no time.

She adored it, really, but she craved the feeling of his cock driving into her as she held onto his body or while his hand wrapped itself around her neck with his mouth spewing the dirtiest sentences into her ear.

She sighed deeply reminiscing her adventurous sex life before he banished her to her apartment so she could rest. Was it a bit dramatic? Maybe. But she might be addicted to sex with him.

She glanced at his text knowing that he was probably smirking at his replies. He always knows how to get to her. She grabbed her phone and typed her reply because she was so fucking bored at the apartment and needed some fresh air.

Y/n: I’m still bored.

This time his reply wasn’t as quick as the previous one. It took him about five minutes to respond which was still fast considering how busy he was.

Harry: Okay. Go out.

Y/n: Wow! I didn’t think of that.

She scoffed at his dumb reply because who said that she was waiting for his approval?

Harry: Why didn’t you go out?

Y/n: I’m not sure…it feels weird…?

She could see the little dots that indicate that he was typing appearing only to disappear a few seconds later.

Harry: I’ll pick you up at 9. Dress comfortably.

When she complained about her boredom she thought that he would recommend her places to visit or give suggestions, not take her out. Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head when she read his text. She wasn’t hallucinating, right?

Y/n: Where are we going?

Harry: Eat your lunch and take your supplement.

Y/n: Damn grumpy pants.

He didn’t reply to her after that but if he did she’s sure he would have sent a thumbs-up emoji even if it was out of context. She continued her meal just like he instructed her. The hold he had on her was unreal, and she was okay with it.

Harry was knocking on her door at exactly 9 PM. Not a minute later.

This time she didn’t welcome him in with a tear-stained face, and grumpy attitude. It was the entire opposite of it. The only thing that was similar to the previous time was her shock. Harry was dressed in all black and a leather jacket. His hair looked so fucking soft, and a hair strand fell on his forehead as he leaned against the door with his hands in his pockets. He was a sight for sore eyes, especially Y/n’s whose jaw almost dropped.

“Hello, little minx.” He grinned devilishly as he entered her apartment. His cologne had her knees buckling, reminding her of when she’d bury her face in his neck.

Black shirt, black pants, black boots, and a black leather shirt. He’s going to be the death of her, surely. He strolled in like he owned the place while she shamelessly stared at his body.

“Little minx…” He tutted, cornering her against the kitchen counter. “… sent me message after message today as if I don’t have a workload.” His tone made her feel like she was in trouble, but the good kind of trouble.

“But you still answered, no?” She replied confidently with a smirk to remind him of the hold that she also had on him, even if they never spoke about it directly.

He remained silent, offering her his cheesy smirk as his eyes raked over her face and neck like he was trying to come up with sinful scenarios. She was more addictive than any type of drug.

“Ready to hit the road?” He deviated from the topic skilfully while checking out her attire to make sure that she’d be comfortable during the ride.

“Hmm. Let’s go.” She walked in front of him like a princess, going down the stairs excitedly.

She stepped out to the street and looked around with a hint of a smile painted across her face. She could hear Harry’s boots behind her and smell his cologne that seemed to have stuck to her clothes.

“So…are we going to walk there?” She asked with confusion evident on her face.

“We’re riding there.” His response held a sense of pride as he grabbed her hand and walked down to the end of the street before taking a left and stopping.

A large black sports bike was parked in its glory itching for someone to take it for a ride. Y/n stood still in her place with her mouth wide open in shock. Harry was a motorcycle guy?

“Oh…wow.”

“Scared little minx?” He mused like it was so fun to see her reaction. He approached her from behind, bumping his body with hers and trapping her physically. She could feel him breathing against her neck as she swallowed down his throat. One touch from him and she’s paralysed.

He pressed a soft peck behind her ear before whispering. “Don’t worry… you’ll hold on to me.” She barely processed what he said as he immediately urged her forward and gave her a helmet to put on. She wore it as soon as he gave it to her to cover her facial expression from him. He helped her tie it up before placing his helmet on.

“C'mon hop on behind me.” He situated himself on the bike, and the more Y/n stared, the more the wetness between her thighs increased. Seeing him in all black was something but with a biker helmet on? She wanted to drop on her knees right there and then, but she didn’t.

Instead, she hopped on behind him and wrapped her arms around his torso. Her grip was weak making him urge her to get closer and glue herself to him. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, it just made her ridiculously horny.

The feeling of hugging his muscular body with her core touching his lower back had her feeling some sort of way. She could feel his abs under her touch, and his cologne drifting in the air was not helping.

“I can’t even see anything because of your back!” While she joked about it, deep down she found it fucking hot. His broad back and shoulders blocked her view, and the only thing she could do was rest her head against it.

“I don’t hear you complaining when you’re scratching on it.” Even with his helmet on, she could feel him smirking.

She gave in to the feeling of his warm body against her as if he were shielding her from everything. It was not an ideal timing for her size kink to get activated, but she genuinely couldn’t help it.

“Hold on tight little minx.” The engine roared to life and Harry fixed his position before taking a turn and heading straight for the highway.

This was her first time on a motorcycle surprisingly. At first, her body was tense, and it didn’t feel nice. Despite having a helmet on, it felt like the wind was slapping her. Harry turned out to be a skilled biker who speeds for fun—still he was careful.

She eventually regulated her breathing and unclenched her jaw as she adapted to the adrenaline rush that she felt. It was an otherworldly feeling. She couldn’t tell what made her feel this way. Harry’s body against her, the evening breeze, or the rush of speeding.

No matter what it was, she felt amazing.

Harry wanted to taunt her in some way, preferably verbally—but she seemed like she was having fun, and her arms around him were a distraction. The feeling of her body clinging to him was priceless.

He tried to avoid speeding on the highway for her sake despite loving to do so. It was one of the things he resorted to when he needed a break from everything. Nothing could compare to the adrenaline rush he felt…maybe just Y/n’s lips.

He slowed down and took an exit on the highway that led them to a deserted road and ultimately a hill. He stopped and turned off the ignition before stepping off the bike.

“Fucking hell. Do you want to kidnap me?” Y/n joked as she looked around the dark and deserted space.

“If I want to kidnap you, little minx, I’ll simply carry you.” He chuckled as he took off his helmet and fixed his messy hair. She swallowed down her throat as she stared at him. Why did he have to look this good?

“C'mon.” He gestured for her to follow him, and she jogged to catch up. He placed his hand on her lower back to urge her forward. His body was dangerously close to her, and she could smell his cologne again. Harry’s hand itched to hold hers, but he wasn’t sure if she’d like that, so her lower back should suffice.

They took a small turn to the left as rocks crunched under their shoes. Harry wondered whether he should tell her to close her eyes or not. But if he does, then it’d sound romantic which crosses the boundaries of their physical relationship.

“It’s right…here.” They were met with a gorgeous view of the city. They could see almost all the lit buildings as if they were in the sky. It felt as if they were spying on the city with its lights and secrets. No one but them on the deserted hill.

“Wow..this is so beautiful”. Y/n gasped in shock at the view in front of her. She never expected Harry to take her to this spot-she didn’t even know it existed.

“I know.” If she wasn’t too occupied with the scenery, she would’ve noticed that Harry was in fact, staring at her with a smile on his face.

“How do you know this spot?” Y/n still couldn’t take her eyes off the shimmering buildings.

“I discovered it once by mistake, and I come here often.” He didn’t mention how this place was his escape from the world, or that he came here before heading to her apartment that day.

“It’s so nice.” Despite the darkness filling the space, Harry could still see and feel her smile.

He quickly got the bike so they could sit on it, and left it turned on for the light.

“Oh, it’s so big I could sleep on it.” Y/n remarked.

Perhaps he was feeling extra chill or it was just from being around her but a weird sound came out of his mouth as he tried to suppress a laugh. Y/n usually gets sleepy after sex, and his dick isn’t the average size. So did he think of her sentence sexually and almost burst out laughing? Yes.

“Did you just try to laugh at me?” She asked in an annoyed tone.

“Me? Never.” He covered up his chuckle with coughing.

“Whatever…” She mumbled a few other words under her breath as she attempted to climb the bike, but it was gigantic. She can’t even recall how she climbed it previously and she’s not even short!

She gasped suddenly as Harry’s hands lifted her body like she weighed nothing and placed her on the seat before she could blink. She was glad that he couldn’t see her face clearly because she could feel her cheeks burning. Was she that touch deprived?

“I was handling it just fine.” She huffed in confidence.

“Mhmm.”

The bike was indeed huge, but Harry took most of the space making their bodies glued on the seat.

The tension between them could be cut with a knife. Y/n would usually be the first to break the silence, but she just couldn’t. She felt paralyzed next to him, and he didn’t even touch her yet. His presence and cologne were enough to weaken her.

“Are you still mad at me?” He cleared his throat.

“What?” She couldn’t mask the shock in her tone as her face turned around to meet his.

“About last week.” It sounded as if something was holding him back, almost like he was afraid of asking.

She took a few seconds to process his question, mostly because she was shocked at the gesture. She knew deep down that it meant a lot. No one would believe her if she said that Agent Harry Styles was checking up on her and apologized. They’d probably laugh in her face.

She couldn’t decode what it meant. Was he just feeling guilty, or did he share the same feelings? The need for more than just physical boundaries haunted her but she wouldn’t dare to bring it up. Even if he was feeling guilty, it still had to be something. He’s literally merciless to other agents.

“I—I—“

“You don’t have to give me an answer.” He reassured her in a low whisper.

“No, I do—I’m just confused.”

“About?” Harry was itching to know her answer. He even rehearsed his question for the past week.

“Well… why did my lack of performance anger you in the first place?” She had a lot to ponder about in her free time. Questions that popped into her head about Harry.

He took a deep breath and clasped his hands together before exhaling. “I didn’t want you to get hurt on the field. Most of the time when agents slack, they end up getting injured in the field…”

“Wanted you to be strong for when I’m not there.” He whispered as if the city was able to hear him confessing his secrets.

“Oh.” Y/n’s head was swirling with thoughts and questions-none that came out of her mouth. She could even feel Harry’s stress radiating off him. She simply allowed her Pinky finger to touch his as they continued staring at the city.

It wasn’t until a few minutes later that she broke the silence.

“I’m not mad anymore. I was just surprised. Just—don’t do it again.”

“Never.”

They stayed in the same position with their fingers touching for almost two hours, as they chatted about important and mundane things. His heart fluttered when she laughed her ass off after he told her how an agent peed his pants because he was caught smoking.

He even told her about his mother briefly. That’s how whipped he was. She shared a few details about growing up as an orphan, but they both decided to close the topic knowing how heavy was.

“Your cologne is suffocating me.” Her remark was innocent, it really was—but his mind wasn’t.

“Thought you liked it when you buried your face in my neck?” Cheeky Harry was back in full force. He inched his face closer to her and he could hear her swallow down her throat.

“Harry…”

“Tell me…did you think about me knocking on your door and fucking you against the wall?” Lust dripped from his voice and Y/n’s chest was rising. Goosebumps spread all over her skin as their noses bumped.

“I—yes.”

“Good. Cause I stopped myself from doing that every single day.” He was needy for her, and only her.

“What are you waiting for then?”

In a few seconds, he had her straddling his lap with his hand supporting her lower back as his lips devoured hers. Their kiss was sloppy, wet, and lustful. Harry counted the minutes that led to this moment so he could taste the sweetest fruit.

He was fucking obsessed with everything about her. Her lips, eyes, body, mind, and pussy.

“Fuck!” He moaned into her mouth when she grinded over his clothed cock. He might as well cum right there in his pants if she kept doing that.

“Behave. “He slapped her ass causing her to whine sweetly. His large hand rested on her cheeks trying to knead them over her leggings.

Their breaths were labored as their tongues clashed like lovers who hadn’t had sex in ages. His mouth was fucking devouring her and she could already feel her lips getting sore. He kept urging her body closer as if he could morph them into one body.

“Ne—need you.” Her whimpers made the blood rush to his cock.

“Yeah? Where do you need me, my baby?”

She ignored his question and continued kissing all over his face, brushing over his stubble and chin. She was hungry and he adored it. But she also didn’t answer him.

He pulled her away by wrapping his hand around her throat. She gasped, secretly loving the feeling of his veiny hands choking her.

“I asked you a question, little minx. Where do you need me?” His voice was so deep and lustful that she wanted to get down on her knees and suck him.

“Uh—In my pussy.” She breathed out, feeling the wetness increase between her thighs just from his hand around her neck. “Here, baby?” He cupped his other hand over her pussy making her feel tingly.

“Y—yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes sir.”

“Attagirl.” He felt her wetness on his hand and if it wasn’t so dark he’d bend her over the bike and fuck her into the next day. Besides, his little minx gets sleepy.

“C’mon, I need to get us to your apartment.” He spanked her cheeks again, earning a squeal from her. He pulled her off his lap and winced at his painful hard on before fixing his pants as much as he could and seating himself on the bike. His hand reached out for her and pulled her onto his lap again.

“Whoa! What are you doing? I should be behind you.”

“No. Since my cologne makes you horny, you’re gonna have your face buried into my neck the whole ride.” His smirk was sick but fuck her if she didn’t like it.

Her nose bumped over his neck and she fought a moan. This had to be the best punishment.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you with my body.” His arm tightened around her waist as he took the route they came from.

It was going to be a torturous ride.

Y/n could barely open the door properly with Harry kissing on the back of her neck. His hard on was pressing into her ass as she tried to insert the key. Her soft whines only made him hornier and needier.

As soon as they were inside, the keys dropped to the ground followed by the loud shut of the door. Harry grabbed Y/n by the throat pushing her to the wall where he kissed her deeply. The kiss was rushed and erotic, he could never get enough of her lips or sweet whimpers every time he pushed his tongue inside her mouth.

“My minx…” The warmth between her thighs was torturous. His deep voice rumbled from his chest sending vibrations straight to her pussy.

“Uhh..” She tried to push her core against his crotch for any sort of friction.

He caught on immediately as he smirked against the kiss and tapped on her ass to lift her on his waist. He had her placed lower than usual so she could feel him against the fabric.

“Is that what you wanted sweet girl? To feel how hard I am for you?” He panted, cradling her jaw with his hand as he deepened the kiss.

“Y—yes." She didn’t want to respond or part from his lips for a millisecond. She could feel her pussy pulsating just from the feeling of his cock pressing into her core.

She pulled away reluctantly, glancing at his neck like it was her next meal. He may have been teasing her, but he was right. She loved burying her face in his neck and sucking on it. She prided herself in knowing that the hickeys she’d give him would be on show for all girls at the agency.

His scent always played with her pheromones and messed with her brain. His cologne had a hold on her, and she knew that she looked like a puppy in heat when she clung to him. “Dirty girl…” His hand rested on her hair as his head rolled backward giving her access to his skin. He was a sight for sore eyes with his face scrunched in ecstasy and lips slightly parted. She didn’t have to speak for him to understand her possessiveness and boy did he like it.

His little minx was obsessed with him just like he was.

“Bedroom please.” She laid her forehead against his having had her fill from giving him love bites. Their noses bumped as they looked into each other’s eyes that shared the same desire.

She didn’t need to tell him twice. He supported her body with one hand around her waist as she directed him to the room. He didn’t waste any time and kept his mouth busy with her neck.

He placed her down on the bed gently before taking off his clothes quickly while she stared at his toned body and tattoos, holding in her drool.

“You could stare at me all night darling, but now I need you to be a good girl and take off your clothes so I could relieve that needy cunt of yours.” Harry barely finished his sentence, and her clothes were off in a few seconds.

The light in the room was dim, supported by a small bedside lamp. If she thought that staring at his body was a delight, then she should read his mind as he stared down at hers.

She looked so fucking pretty for him. Only him.

It was like an erotic scene out of a movie or a wet dream. Y/n on her back with her legs spread showcasing her glistening pussy and hardened nipples, and Harry standing tall in front of her with his cock erect to his stomach begging to sink itself inside her warm walls.

The sight of him standing like that nude and horny will never leave her mind. Almost as if he were a Greek god.

She squealed as he pulled her by her legs to the edge of the bed. Harry suddenly lowered his body till his face was at the same level as her pussy. His teasing game was strong, she was crumbling underneath him.

“My favorite scent.” He buried his face in her cunt and inhaled. A tiny whine left her mouth as his nose bumped into her swollen clit. Y/n felt like she could cry if he didn’t fuck her, and he was taking his sweet time in savoring the scent of her wetness.

“H—Harry.”

“Mhm?” He turned his attention to her, hovering over her body and taking delight in her needy face.

“Please—it hurts.” If he waited any longer, Harry was sure that a tear would’ve fallen from her eye.

“Oh poor baby…” He cooed as he caressed her cheek gently. “…you just need me inside, don’t you?” She was quick to nod while slightly squirming beneath him.

He pulled her closer, situating her core right under his cock, and stroked it giving her a show of his moans before tapping it against her wet cunt.

“Is that where you need it? Just have to slide in.” His sick grin with the feeling of his cock sliding over her cunt back and forth made her eyes roll back.

“Please.” She dug her nails into his back followed by a set of pleas.

“Shhh.” He whispered softly, pressing a peck to her cheek before pulling away from her and fixing their position.

He placed her legs on his shoulder and gave her his twisted smirk as he stroked his shaft and bit his bottom lip. “Gonna be my good girl as usual? Hmm?”. He lowered his body again, allowing his cock to rest on her stomach.

“Uh—huh.” She nodded mindlessly immediately. She was already cockdrunk and he wasn’t inside her yet.

“Ready baby?” His hand rubbed her legs softly as she gave him the cue. He glanced quickly at his cock resting on her skin and he almost got dizzy from the size difference. It got to him every damn time.

His eyes were focused on her facial expression as he slowly pushed himself inside of her. A wave of relief washed over her face with a sweet moan making him still his hips to avoid cumming.

There was nothing like sinking inside her warm walls that begged him to go deeper. Wet squelching sounds filled the room the more he pushed inside her—his baby was made for him.

“That’s it little minx—so fucking warm for daddy.”

Y/n’s brain felt mushy. Harry was so fucking good to her, and his cock scratched the itch just right. He never referred to himself as daddy before, only sir but she liked it so bad.

She pulled at his arms with soft whimpers signalling for him to get closer to her—which he did without hesitation. She clung to him, digging her nails into his back and tugging at his hair. His cock drove deep into her cunt, massaging her hot walls with its veins and thickness.

“Use me d—daddy”. Y/n shed tears from pleasure that stained his face since he was glued to her, pressing pecks to her cheeks and nose.

“Yeah? Want daddy to use you like a fuckdoll?” He increased his pace, going deeper and moaning into her ear at the feeling of her bare cunt.

They both adored raw sex and went for it almost every time. Y/n was on birth control, and Harry tested regularly (despite only fucking her). He was pussy whipped.

“Uhh—be rough daddy.” He stilled his hips at her words, leaving them glued to hers. He lifted his body and took in her fucked sight. Messy hair, tear stains, and a needy face.

“Wanted to be gentle with you but I forgot that you’re a whore deep down.” He chuckled before spitting on her face, and watching her chest rise and fall as she breathed heavily.

His little minx was insatiable and provoked him further by trying to fuck herself on his cock as she bit her bottom lip. He could faintly hear her whimpering ‘Daddy’ under her breath.

He wanted to slap her knowing how much she liked it but something else distracted him. He looked down to where they were connected noticing the mix of her wetness with his precum. He pulled out slowly, moaning at the loss of contact and his cock that is painted in white.

Harry tried to breathe in and out to avoid cumming. Not only did she cream on his cock, but her cunt was pulsating as if she was asking for his cock to slide in again.

“Pathetic. Creamed all over me.” Her inner thighs were coated with wetness, and she didn’t close her legs—not even a bit. She knew that she should always keep them spread for him.

He flipped her on her stomach effortlessly and she immediately arched her back, presenting her ass to him. “What a good fuckdoll.” He slapped her cheeks and placed his tip at her entrance before sinking into her warmth again.

Her walls pulled him back in as if she were some sort of seductress that made him addicted to her. Harry balanced himself and focused on the fast thrusts instead of her extremely warm cunt.

“Fucking insatiable aren’t you?” He grunted with his eyes fixed on his cock entering her pussy and coming out all creamy as her ass jiggled.

Y/n’s muffled moans were all she could offer. With her face smushed in the pillow and brain turned off, she was in fucking heaven.

The arch of her back had him rolling his head backward as his hips rotated forward, going deeper and harder.

“That’s it slut. Take my fucking cock.” He gritted his teeth, grabbing a fistful of her hair, and pulling it backward before wrapping a hand around her neck and lifting her body to his chest.

She was completely gone. She could only look at him with teary eyes that begged him to claim her.

Deeper, harder, faster.

“D—d…”

“Good fuckdolls keep their mouth shut.” He tightened his grip on her jaw, tapping on her mouth to open it up before spitting inside.

“Swallow.” If the warmth of her cunt didn’t kill him, it was going to be her face. So needy, compliant, and dizzy from pleasure.

Their bodies were glued to each other, skin to skin with her back to his chest as he thrusted inside her while panting in her ear.

He was supporting both of their bodies seeing as she could do nothing but whine. His arm was secured around her torso with her hand clinging to his bicep. The clenching of her walls around his cock was always the hardest for him. She’d rile him on trying to milk his cum, taking every drop.

“You wanna cum?” He panted against the back of her neck knowing how her body acts when she’s reaching her orgasm.

She gave him a weak nod, clinging harder to his bicep as she laid her head on his shoulder. They didn’t always cum together, but when they did, the euphoria was unmatched. Harry had been holding himself back ever since he sunk into her, just to feel her shake and pulsate around him as he spilled his cum into her.

“C’mon minx, give it to me.” His tongue left a broad lick on her neck with a harsh bite. It wasn’t her clit that got her off—her sensitive spot was her neck, whether Harry choked her or sucked on her skin—she was a goner.

“H—Harry” Her nails dug into his skin as she looked up at him with sweet eyes and shaky legs.

How could he resist laying his lips on hers as he stilled his hips to empty himself inside her?

She was shuddering—even with their skin glued together. Her sweet moans made his cock twitch inside her, already hungry for more. Her orgasm hit her hard, clouding her vision and thoughts. The feeling of his cum spiling inside her with her pussy clenching to take it inside was the only thing she felt and wanted to feel.

“Fuck. That’s it, take every drop my lo—minx.” His eyes fluttered open at his word slip up.

His eyes furrowed in confusion and immediately glanced at her face which seemed to be too occupied with cumming. His chest heaved as he swiped his hand across her face, moving her sweaty hair strands away before kissing her temple.

“Talk to me, are you okay?” He angled her face towards him to examine her expression.

“Yes.” A hazy smile was planted across her face making him chuckle.

“Mhmm. I’m going to pull out now and carry you to the bathroom so you can pee.” He gave her a heads up while rubbing her cheeks.

Once she nodded at him, he began pulling out slowly, wincing at being separated from her warmth—something that she reciprocated. Harry tried to avoid looking down—he really did, but it was too tempting.

His creamy load dripped out of her pussy, sliding down her legs, and the more she clenched, the more came out.

“Fucking hell.” He muttered under his breath, swiping his finger across her pussy and gathering his cum before tasting it.

Y/n’s whine echoed in his ear. She sported an angry look on her face that disappeared once he signalled for her to open her mouth. He spat the residue of what he tasted inside of her mouth, enjoying the faint moans that spilled from her.

“C’mon let’s clean you up.” He carried her effortlessly to the bathroom before giving her privacy and heading back to the room to change the sheets.

Who knew that changing bed sheets would make him irritated? He let out a huff, finishing the last touch right as she came out of the bathroom.

She was dressed in nothing but a plain white shirt that barely reached her thighs.

“Hm I love my bed.” She smiled as she climbed the mattress, giving Harry a show.

“Y/n.” He spoke rigidly.

“Yeah?” She glanced up innocently at him as she relaxed under the duvet.

“I was supposed to clean you up…and where are your panties?” He questioned her as he joined her on the bed—nude.

“You can wake me up at night, make a mess then clean me.” She taunted him, switching to the side and giving him a view of the shirt riding up her ass.

He got under the covers, situating himself properly so that he was attached to her.

“Is that what you want little minx? Hmm?” His fingers caressed her skin slowly starting from her arm, down to her legs.

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll see.” He nibbled on before earlobe as she dosed off to sleep. She loved sleeping after sex and Harry knew that, but it was almost 1 in the morning and she needed rest.

Harry dared to let his hand dip in her hair, giving her head scratches as she slept peacefully. He didn’t realize what he was doing until she stirred in her sleep making him pull his hand away.

His eyes furrowed in confusion as he stared at her sleeping face. First the word slip up and now he’s playing with her hair.

What the fuck was going on with him?

Taglist: @prettythingsworld @slut4marvelmenn @wandas-lawyer @tbsloneely @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @missmielyhoran @harryssideboob @harrysficreblog @itslottiehere @hsonlyangelxo @gem1712 @adachhi @tpwkkkkk @hrryberry @summertime-pills @lhhrryismyhome @marzhshaim @keepdrivingkisses @rideeonstyles @matildasatellite @a-strange-familiar @greivingfortheliving @straightnogayhs @awesomenavy @infinatetatie @be-with-me-so-happily @harrysrockstarsgf @cherrys4suckers @stilesissaved @daphnesutton @elioslover @myalovesharry

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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jarofstyles · 2 months

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Lush

Hello my ducklings! Since we have been getting a lot of questions about our Patreon and what is included, we decided to give you guys peeks into the series we have exclusively on there. This is Lush, escort y/n x dark businessman H. There will be some twists and turns in this one, hot smut, a fake relationship and a possessive and slightly obsessive dark H- our favorite. This series will only be on Patreon but this is the first part to give you a taste!

Check out our Patreon for access to Lush and our other exclusive series + 100+ exclusive writings.

Warnings- escorting, mention of homelessness and money struggles, daddy kink etc

WC- 2.9k

-----

Y/N knew her job, and she did it well.

Sit still, look pretty. Perched on her favorite client’s lap, his strong thigh covered in a trouser that matched the blazer that probably cost more than she’d made in the last 3 months, she sipped her champagne quietly and ‘let the men talk.’

Harry Styles was an enigma. He had popped up a few weeks ago, bringing her to a dinner after a debriefing in a lux hotel in one of the bigger hotels on the Vegas strip. The window had overlooked it all, a penthouse that seemed to be used quite frequently considering the fridge had been stocked and he had socks stuffed in a drawer that she’d used later that night.

“I need you to sit on my lap, keep me company.” He had said plainly. The man was intimidating. Broad and tall, soft brown hair swept back and off his forehead. Stubble shadowing his face and over his lip, his features were sharp and his eyes a little harsh, but she could whole heartedly admit that he was the most attractive client she’d ever had. Being a year in after escaping a situation that was still haunting her nightmares, she had been eager to accept the higher paying and well vetted job she had, thank god, stumbled into. It wasn’t conventional, no, but nothing really was in Vegas.

“I can do that.” She replied, hands folded in her lap. He stood before her as she had sat on the couch, looking up at him as he spoke. “Is that all we’re doing in our time together?” To put it in a nicer way of asking. She could have bluntly asked if he was going to want sex, but she did try to at least have a little decorum- until the situation granted the freedom of it. It wasn’t uncommon for her and she was safe, tested, and generally did enjoy sex- but it was a job. This time, however, would probably be enjoyed more than she had in the past. A real attraction to the man would be helpful in many parts of making this more enjoyable.

“Who said that?” He rose a brow, looking down at her. It was a smoldering look but she couldn’t find it in herself to look away as he got closer and tilted her chin up. “I intend to take everything you’ll offer. I’d suggest canceling your plans for tomorrow.” She didn’t have to ask why. It was clear this man intended to fuck her, and fuck her well.

Spoiler- he did. Harry had, for all intents and purposes, rocked her shit. So when she found his name on her books twice the next week, she hadn’t complained. She’d been excited, actually, considering she’d been able to feel the sting of her ass when she’d sat in the Lyft the next morning to take her to her apartment. Another good thing about him, she found as she looked in her purse, was that he tipped extremely well. More than was deserved, if she was being honest, but the one time the girl brought it up he had shoved another hundred dollar bill into the waistband of her sleep shorts and sent her on her way.

It had become known to her that he specifically requested her. If she wasn’t available, he’d offer more money than the other client was paying- and her Madam had no problem with that, considering it upped her cut. She found herself with him 3 times this week, frequenting clubs and drowning out business talk as his large hand splayed across her waist and the other hand held a sweaty amber colored liquor on the rocks. Much to many of her friends and client’s surprise, Y/N didn’t drink much. She stuck to lighter things, champagne and rosé, and kept to a one to two drink maximum. She preferred keeping a clear head when on the job and honestly? Drinking wasn’t her thing. A buzz was nice, but anything past that meant a headache in the morning. She wasn’t a morning person to begin with.

This meeting was going past its normal time, making her wonder what was being said. If she was being frank- Y/N didn’t do much listening in his meetings. It felt like they were talking in code, another language, and she couldn’t be assed to listen about imports and exports and blah, blah, blah. Her brain was happy to sit and be warm on a handsome man’s lap, observing the dance floor. Dancing used to be so fun, something she’d always loved to do as a child. Now she didn’t get to do as much, even though she’d wished she could. Club dancing was far different than her normal type but if she was on the balcony of the most VIP of the VIP sections, she was going to take her people watching to the next level.

“Y’alright?” His raspy voice breathed over her ear, not taking his eyes off the men who were talking amongst themselves. “I know it’s late. We can go back soon.” While Harry wasn’t the most warm and fuzzy person, he did respect her time. He was a little scary, truthfully, and she didn’t want to upset him. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He was respectful and kind to her, he spoiled her with tips and orgasms, and she had no complaints. If staying out a bit later than he had said was the least of her worries besides his scowling, she was golden.

“I’m okay.” She smiled. “People watching. Sorry, I’m not paying attention. Dunno what half of the stuff you’re talking about means.”

Y/N had no reality of what he did. No clue. She was too afraid to google him. To ruin the illusion she had of him in her head. He passed the background test and signed the heavy contract that came with hiring her, so he wasn’t about to harm her or anything- and from what she’s learned in Vegas, sometimes you’re better off not knowing. There was a lot of shady business practices that went on. It was legitimately upset her if he was a bad person outside of the law, so she decided not to go searching for answers she possibly didn’t want to find.

“That’s good.” He murmured, pressing a private kiss underneath her ear. “Don’t worry about it. S’nothing interesting anyways. Got t’keep up appearances.” His voice dropped. “Would much rather be between your thighs. Missed this body while I was away.”

And, Oh. It made her hot, a nervous giggle leaving her throat as the words tickled against her ear. Harry had gone away on a business trip, he’d prefaced it because he had been gone 4 day. He’d prescheduled to meet her on the day he came back. Her stomach did a swoop in her body as the cool hand that held his glass deposited it on the table, finding her thigh and squeezing over it. “You did?”

She had to wonder if he was buttering her up, but the thought was dispelled because Harry didn’t need to do that. He had always been a bit blunt and she liked that about him. Less sweet talk that he didn’t mean. What he said made sense- complimenting her body and her mouth and appearance, what she did for him, but he never went too far and said things he didn’t mean. So she believed him when he nodded, slipping his hand further up her dress and making her swallow thickly. He’d given her pretty lingerie he’d bought from wherever he went, the buttery silk laying against her body under the dress that hugged her figure. Red, he said, because she was a little devil between the sheets. “I did. Got t’bring you with me next time.”

Some girls did that. Y/N wasn’t even sure what the rate would be for a trip, but the idea appealed to her. “You sure you can afford it?” She whispered back, a playful tilt to her lips. Obviously he could. He was by far the wealthiest man she had in her books, evident by the liquor he ordered, the watches he wore and the cars the drove in. It was arousing to her, if she was being honest. When she settled down one day, the one thing she really wanted was financial stability. Maybe that sounded shallow, but with her history with no money and being a little jaded, it made sense to her.

“Can afford that, and a shopping spree for you while I do business.” He brushed his cool fingertips against her slightly damp panties. Harry didn’t smile often, but when he did? It was a smirk. A hot, arrogant little smirk that she should probably be annoyed by, but wasn’t. “Need to get you out of here, though. Have something I want to talk to you about before I sink you down on my cock.” His fingers retreated after a gentle brush to find them wet, moving to her leg as he began to wrap up the meeting. People would listen, even if they weren’t finished- he just had that way about him.

—--

Y/N had no clue what, exactly, he wanted to talk to her about. They’d had some nice conversations so far about a plethora of things. Movies, books, restaurants, some morals. But it wasn’t too deep. Both of them had seen it for what it was, even if they had impeccable sexual chemistry. She didn’t know the man all that well, only what was told to her and what he had divulged- and knowing the man had a sweet tooth didn’t account for much. So it was slightly intimidating when he asked her to meet him in the living room of the suite as he put away his watch and jacket.

What could he possibly have to talk to her about? Her brain was coming up with nothing.

“C’mere.” He sat himself down on the couch, offering his lap back up to her. It wasn’t something she did in private unless his hands were down her panties or she was riding him, but she decided to go for it. Her heels kicked off to the side, she sat herself back in the familiar way. It had taken her off guard, but his hand took her own and she watched as he flipped it over, thumbing over her ring finger. “I need to ask you a favor. A proposition.” He murmured, calculating eyes going back to her face. “And you can say no, if you want. I’ll understand.” Of course, this made her alarm bells ring but there was little time to panic. Considering he was a very get to the point man, he did exactly that. “I’d like for you to quit your current job and pretend to be my fiance.”

The bomb was dropped. Why, exactly, a man of his caliber needed a fake fiance? She had not a fucking clue. Harry continued, her face slack in shock. He took that into account, it seemed. “I like you. You’re polite, know how to behave in public. Gorgeous little thing. You’re intelligent, you’re quick, and you understand how to keep to yourself. That’s a very valuable thing to me.” His thumb resumed rubbing her ring finger. “We have incredible sex. You fulfill and exceed my needs, and I’m satisfied with sex for once in my life.” Y/N let him do whatever he wanted and thoroughly enjoyed it. There was no faking it with them. Their chemistry crackled in the air when it shifted. There was no doubting that. “My family has been pressuring me to settle down. I have no time to properly date, nor the desire to.” He sure as fuck wasn’t the type to go on dating apps, and the dating pool he was around was a lot of vapid people with money hungry libidos. At least he would know Y/N was there for money and there would be no confusion between them. “I enjoy your company. It isn’t traditional nor conventional, but I’d provide for you. I will deposit your average monthly income in your own bank account and give you a card to my own. I’d pay for your rent while you stay with me, and you’d have free time to do as you please. Whatever hobbies you’d like. Horse riding, art, reading, I don’t care what it is if you like it.”

Her head was swimming. What the fuck? She’d heard of men falling in love with escorts, sure, but this seemed… More transactional. For some reason, it made her feel a little more comfortable. He wasn’t proclaiming love after barely knowing her. He knew how it went and that she needed to be provided for. “Like a sugar baby?” She blurted out.

“Not particularly. My fiance in title. You’ve been introduced as my girl to everyone already, so it isn’t a difficult sell to anyone but my family. We’d announce our engagement, I’ll bring you to London to meet them, let it run it’s course.” His eyes bore into hers. “I don’t want you with anyone else while you’re mine. I’ll be the only one you sleep with, and vice versa. I don’t want you to split your time between me and anyone else. I’m asking for devotion, which is a lot. But I’d like it to be you.”

“Why?” Y/N knew he had explained it but it was still confusing. “I know what you’ve said but… surely theres other people that you’d want to ask? I’m just an escort you’ve been seeing for a little while. I mean.. The sex is great, don’t get me wrong.” And she was extremely attracted to him and his energy, but… “I��m not in my escort mode all the time. I don’t want to be working 24/7. I’m not as docile while off the clock.” She wasn’t about to get put into 24/7 smile and nod territory. It was fine when it was an outing, or even a night, but she did have a personality she quite liked outside of it.

“I wouldn’t expect you to be agreeable all the time. In fact, I’d like to see you fight me a little.” Harry’s smirk returned. “Makes the sex hotter. But…” he returned to his business face. “I chose you because we get along. I don’t like a lot of people. I may pretend I do, but it’s difficult for me to find people who don’t make me irritated. You’re… interesting to me.” It wasn’t the answer she expected, no, but still. She had more questions.

“So what about after it’s all done and over with? I’ll end up on the streets, homeless again because I know Madam isn’t going to just let me back on her lists.” She crossed her arms, not realizing what she’d said. Harry caught it, pocketing it for later. It didn’t sit right that she had been on the streets at all, but that wasn’t a topic he could broach right now. He didn’t have the right to ask yet.

“I will make sure you’re set after this is done.” He promised. “I will have all of your expenses covered while you’re with me. Nails, hair, food, clothing, hobbies. You’ll be making your pay and then some every week and not touching it. And if it ends early, I will payout an extra mil. Does that sound reasonable?” He rose an eyebrow. “I’ve got the paperwork with me, but you can sit on it if you want.”

“How long can I sit on it for?” It took everything in her to not bite at her nails. The one thing the acrylics were good for was curbing that habit. “It’s not a no, but I’d like to look at the contract and have a lawyer look over it before I agree to anything.” As young as she may seem, she wasn’t stupid. This would be a perfect way to take advantage of her. While she didn't have that feeling from him, she’d be dumb not to protect herself.

She didn’t expect the smile from him, but it made her heart beat a bit faster as he brought her hand up to kiss it. “Smart fuckin’ girl you are.” He laughed. “Good. That works with me. I hope you do sign it, though.” His eyes darkened a bit. Harry wasn’t good at sharing and the idea of this pretty thing belonging to him, in essence, made his dick twitch. “I’d love to take you with me to Italy and see you on my yacht. Maybe fuck you on it. Think you’d really love that.”

Y/N had a feeling she would, too. The idea of being with one man, a man she so far enjoyed despite a bit of arrogance and intimidation, was appealing after a year here. But she needed to cover her own ass before sinking into something too good to be true. “I would.” Her nails moved from his hand to card through his soft hair. “I’d love that. But I think you should focus on tonight, hm?” Her legs opened a little, and she guided his hand back to where it had been previously. “Take a look at the pretty things you’ve already got, Daddy.”

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smuttyaf · 5 months

Text

Tag, You’re It

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰; 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐲

wc: 4.3k

dom/sub, slapping, exhibitionism & very rough sex

The houses that you grew up around stand tall and sturdy after many years on the residential street. Trees still holding their colourful leaves while some skid amongst the ground when the wind picks up. Your free hand was buried into your pocket, feeling over the sherpa lining while the other tore the cigarette from your lips and flicked it to the ground.

Heels click against the asphalt, your ears drawing in the sound of music playing from your phone. The sun was already setting on the horizon as you made your way home; school had just finished an hour ago yet it was as if it was nearly the evening, however you were happy.

It was finally Friday and you were delighted to lay in your bed, order in food, and watch whatever movie seemed interesting on Netflix. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip when you felt the gush of wind blow through you, hand now going into your other pocket and welcoming the warmth.

The familiar sound of Harry’s Mustang caught your attention as it peels down the road, the engine could be heard over the music in your headphones. The smell of burning gas fills your nostrils as the presence of it next to you quirks your interest.

Black tires are nearly on the curb as the vibrating hum from inside of the vehicle pours out. Your eyes flick between the side view mirror to the tinted window rolling down, leather seats in your vision. The song in your earbuds comes to an end revealing the loud whistle floating in the space, it makes you roll your eyes and settle your movements.

“Hey baby,” The words were muffled causing you to tug one bud out and turn towards the black coupe.

“Hi,” You say while giving a faint smile, body turning and leaning into the vehicle. The smell of mint and weed was welcomed with the gas in the air, only making your nose wrinkle and eyes look towards green ones.

His hair was messy today, as if he woke up and simply just ran his hands through it and thought it would suffice. His leather jacket was around his shoulders with his usual black attire, fingers dressed with thick sliver rings as they tap against the wheel of the car. A beaming smile was set along his lips which only meant trouble in your eyes.

Harry Styles, the local bad boy who always found himself in mischief. Whether it was for skipping class or dealing weed behind the local corner store, he had a lengthy record already that only grew every other month. Despite everything, it didn’t help that he was a delinquent who was handsome as well; brown curls, heavily tattooed, and face crafted by cherubs, he was hot but not someone you would want to be caught with.

“You go to St. Martins, right?” Harry continues, eyes peering over his black shades and into yours. You couldn’t help the tingle in your spine, it’s happening.

“Uh yeah…” You answer, eyebrows knotting in confusion. Hmm… What exactly did Harry want? Why all of a sudden was he talking to you.

“I go to the public school across from it,” He reveals, only making you let out a laugh.

“I know… I hear,” You say, eyes flickering between his car and him. The whole town knows what Harry’s car sounds like, you could tell he was coming from miles away.

“Is it really that loud?” He says sarcastically, eyebrows pushing together with a bright smile. You roll your eyes in response, your body relaxing a bit while your hands shift around in your pocket.

“You’re a senior too?” He ask, one hand leaving the wheel and landing on the middle console, making him lean in closer.

“Yeah,” You simply respond, looking at the way his hair falls over his forehead.

“What a coincidence…” Harry remarks, smirk now stretching across his lips as he leans his head to the side. “You know I always see you walking when I’m driving home… I can always drop you off?” He suggests. You feel your heart drop in your chest and stomach twist.

As much as you want to get into this dangerously handsome man’s car, you know you shouldn’t. Yes, you both grew up in the same town together and are around the same age but, you don’t know Harry. You bite down on your bottom lip, fingers twisting in your jacket as you pull away from the door and stand straight.

“I appreciate it but I’m good,” You say, another faint smile spreading on your lips as you watch Harry’s head now lean back, charcoal frames covering his eyes completely.

“Oh come on… It’s cold and my ride is nice and warm,” Harry remarks, lips curling and foot leaning off the brakes as the car begins to peel away slowly. You shake your head and begin your previous movements towards your house. Yes, it was cold outside but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle, you didn’t need a ride from him.

“I can cut your walk down by three minutes,” He continues, the heels of your boots echoing against the concrete.

“I’m good!” You call back, hand slipping out of your jacket and taking your headphone to put back in your ear.

“Let me drop you home,” Harry responds, only making you roll your eyes again, chewing down on your bottom lip.

His calls proceed ranging from “I can bring you home,” to drawn out “Hello’s,” but to each one you ignored. Your feet continue to carry you but at a much faster pace than before. The only thing you can think in this moment is where the hell is anyone to witness this.

Soon, you are near the local hiker trail of your town, your head still tucked down at your feet as you peel away from the side walk and cut towards the path. Now you were stepping on dry leaves with your heart pounding through your ears, you let your head twist around swiftly to where you see Harry’s coupe.

Windows up and blowing smoke in the air as it was parked against the curb. At that point you begin to jog lightly through the forest; boots breaking sticks and hands swishing by your side as you tried to navigate where you go from there. It wasn’t normal for you to take this path home, you always stick to your usual route but now there was an obstacle in your way.

Chest heaving and heart beating uncontrollably, you kept turning your head around to see if he was still even following you. Maybe you were actually going crazy thinking that the Harry Styles would be following you just because you declined a ride home from him but, just as you twist your head around to look in front of you, you immediately bump into a warm chest, eyes peering up and locking with his.

“Did you really think you could get away from me?” He questions, voice slow as he steps closer to you, making you take one back. A smirk rests on Harry’s lips, arms linking together with the smell of his scent filling your nose.

The only thing you could do was stare, you were not expecting Harry to be standing in front of you right now. Where did he even come from and how could you not have heard him. Now your chest was pinching with pains as your nerves were driving you up the wall.

“I asked you a question.” Harry states. Lips in a line as he took another step towards you.

“I—I don’t need a ride home,” You mutter, fingers going to the ends of your black skirt as you feel over the pantyhose there.

“That wasn’t the question.” He says, hand now tearing away from him and gripping your elbow. That only makes a gasp slip from your lips and eyes bulge.

“Let go of me,” You mutter, trying to break free from his hold but that only makes him apply more pressure.

“Answer my question,” Harry insists, the strength he has on your arm pulling you closer into his chest.

You swallow once again, the wetness between your legs already beginning to flood your panties as you try to not break character. You bite down on your bottom lip, eyes flickering between the sliver zippers on his jacket to his olive globes.

“Yes.” You say calmly, the trees rustling as the sky begins to fade to grey.

The heat of Harry’s palm is welcomed across your cheek, his hand tearing away from your elbow and gripping your hair as he tugs your head back to look at you with a grin on his face. You bit down harder on your bottom lip to try and suppress yourself. Your hands move away from your skirt and hold onto Harry’s biceps, your eyes peering up at him through your mascara coated lashes as you gently try to push him off you.

“Let go,” You cry, only making the grip he has in your hair tighten as he tugs your head down. A hiss leaving your lips making your eyes flutter.

“What are you gonna do about it? Huh?” Harry smirks, pulling your hair again and that makes your eyes close and a painful moan escape. The feeling of your head throbbing as his fingers toy with the hairs, it had your thighs pressing together and teeth going back to dig in the flesh.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” He mutters, eyes searching for any hesitation. Fuck you were so turned on, the way he can be aggressive with you one second to loving the next.

One night after Harry snuck through your window, with shared spliff between the both of you following a heated make out session, he somehow manage to get you to confess to one of your most intimate desires. He agreed to do it however, only on his terms; which only made you grow with excitement because you never knew when he would play along to your fantasy. So, when you opted to act clueless to him and he encouraged the idea that you both don’t know each other you knew what was about to happen, and that made your heat throb between your legs.

“Yes,” You whimper, lips immediately welcomed with Harry’s, the taste of mint burning on yours. You moan immediately, hands relaxing against Harry’s arms as you let yourself get wrapped up in him.

One of his hands fall from your hair to roam down your back and cup your ass, pushing him deeper into you and welcoming you into his warmth. His other hand ran down the nape of your neck to hug the skin there, tongues twisting around each other as you submit yourself fully to him. Harry’s scent fills your nose, just the smell of his cologne alone had your knees bending in weakness. You couldn’t help how aroused you are, the feeling of his growing member pressing against you only reassures you that he wants this too.

“On your knees.” He commands, tearing away from your lips. Fingers now lace in your hair as you let your legs squat down and look up at him, your hands falling to his hips and running over his thick bulge.

Black nails fumble over each other as you undo his belt and relieve him, tongue running over your bottom lip looking at hard he is; angry veins running along the base to tip varying in size, you take one of your hands off your hip and let it dip between your thighs, the way his cock looks in front of you made you want to come from the sight.

“Hmph,” You hum, when you feel Harry’s hand tug your hair back to make you peer up at him, his face cold with lips glistening with the mixture of you both.

“Did I say you can touch yourself?” He asks, only making you shake your head slightly. This causes him to yank your head again. “I asked a question.” He stated, voice strong and raw. God, you wanted him to fuck you right there.

“No,” You say, hand tearing away from your thighs and going to fall to his pelvic bone, your other messaging his thigh.

“Good girl,” Harry hums, his fingers relaxing and massaging your scalp as you lean forward. Hands going to the base of his shaft as your tongue dips out of your mouth and runs over the slit of his head, licking over the dip before letting your lips suckle his crown.

Saliva coats your lips, sinking deeper and deeper until you find a good rhythm, head slightly bobbing while feeling him stretch your throat with each flex. Harry’s left hand welcomes itself on your cheek, letting himself have a grip over your mouth and making his hips rock into you. You halt your movements, eyes fluttering up to look up at him as he delve into your throat, lips spreading around his thick member letting him thrust into you.

“Gonna be a good girl for me,” Harry says, eyes hooded and fingers tensing against your jaw, making you moan as you tear away from him.

“Yes,” You breathe out looking up at him, hands going to the base of his shaft and running over the coated member. He looks so sexy staring down at you; hair framing his face, teeth tucked on top the skin of his lips while he focuses on tearing your throat apart just the way you want.

Your response causes him use to use the grip he has on your jaw to make you lean forward and welcome him into your mouth once again, hand now massaging whatever you can’t fit while the other ran up and down his clothed thigh.

The sound of Harry’s dick rocking into your throat fills your ears as tears begin to swell your waterline, the thickness of him down your throat only making it ache as he halts his hips, fingers holding you still as he shoves himself down, his waist halting as you take him all the way.

You watch his head knock back and the fingers in your hair relax, a sigh of relief escapes him. He holds you like that for what felt like two minutes until he pulls his hips back, a deep breath drawing from you before he’s rocking into you like that four more times and you feel your throat burn from the stretch.

A pleasant hum leaves your ruined throat as Harry pulls himself away from you, letting a trail of saliva link between your lips and his cock. “Look so perfect like this,” Harry sighs, hand slipping from your hair and wiping the string of spit.

You blink up at him, holding back tears as you feel your throat burn in pleasure. You were afraid if you spoke it would come out as a squeal, so instead you bite down on your swollen lip at the piece of thickness in front of you, glistening in your fluid.

Harry watches your gaze go to his cock, a smirk now adoring his features. His grip on your jaw releases and goes to your shoulders, bringing you back to stand up, his hands now falling to your hips and turning you around to shove you against the dried out stream that had trees framing it with others further back. It makes more privacy for the area because of the hanging branches.

Your feet stumble over the loose rocks, while your chest presses against the old tree. Harry’s hands feel your backside in his grip before taking your skirt in hand and peeling it over the flesh. His fingers immediately going to your stockings, ripping the material causing you to let out a small gasp when you feel the cool air hit your bottom.

“Fuck… Look at you,” He whispers, his hands going to your lace panties and pressing his fingers against your heat, the cold metal from his rings erupts a broken moan to escape your lips. Three fingers rub against you, playing with your clit, making the wet spot you were squatting in spread against your folds.

“Baby,” You cry, voice raw and raspy, it basically pained you to talk. Your nails dig into the dry lumber as you push your hips back.

That lands a hard smack to your cheeks, a whimper now leaving you and eyes fluttering shut. All you want was Harry to fuck you till you see stars; you want him to fill you up so bad you will be walking funny tomorrow.

“Thought you were gonna be a good girl,” Harry hums, the feeling of his hand spreads against your red cheeks were he places three more strikes on your flesh, heavy and painful due to the added feeling of the rings on his fingers. His chest against your back, member aligned with your heat and rubbing against you, making your head knock against the tree.

“Baby,” You moan, voice small as you feel his breath against your ear. Your eyes open as you prop your foot against the stump. Your backside sinking back and nearly making the head of his dick enter you.

“Want me so bad, don’t you?” Harry questions. Running himself between your dripping folds which only has you arching your back into him. You nod your head silently, eyes turning to see the position you’re in. Harry was completely towering over you, hips parallel with yours as his lips were warm against the skin behind your ear.

“Talk to me love,” He breathes into you, making you whimper and push yourself down onto him more. The head of his dick rubbing against your clit and sending pleasure up your legs. “Beg for me.” He continues into your ear, making your heart pound in your chest. You were so turned on, you want nothing more than for him to fill your walls.

“Please, H. Please let me feel you,” You mumble, left hand tearing away from the wood and skimming against his neck to run into his hair. “Please baby… Been so good to you.” Mutter dazedly, hips gently rocking against his movements.

That makes Harry hum, the noise vibrating against the skin of your neck as you feel him draw away from you and let his head breach your hole. Your tongue escaping your mouth to wet your lips as you feel him push into you, spreading your pussy blissfully as he sinks into your dripping heat.

“Mhm my good little girl.” Harry mumbles into your ear, hips meeting your backside only to draw back to dive into you again.

A raspy cry escapes you, the euphoric feeling of him filling you up just where you loved him the most. Your walls welcome him home as he picks up his motions, his lips burning into your skin as he buries himself in you with each thrust. The sound of your whimpers and torn moans was met with the wetness between your legs.

Your pussy throbs with the feeling of him diving into you, the fluid running down your inner thighs making you feel as if you were underwater. Harry’s dick continues thrusting into you so forcibly that it had you curling your fingers into his hair and into the flaking cracks of the tree.

“You love the way I fuck you.” Harry urges, his hand leaving your hip and wrapping around your throat, the feeling of his rings digging into the skin as he squeezed. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling.

“Yes,” You mutter, your legs slightly quivering from your pussy going sore due to how hard Harry is pounding into you.

“Wanted to be fuck like this all along, huh,” He eggs on, voice so deep in your ear it was if he was your conscience. That had you biting down on your bottom lip, your eyes barely peel open to look at the broken twigs in your vision bouncing from Harry’s movements behind you. The feeling of your oxygen being slowly cut off from the stern hold he has on your neck.

“Dirty girl,” He teases, the hand on your hip shoving your back down on him with each thrust. “Wanted to be my slut for tonight,” The name he gives making you moan, and causing your legs to shiver once again.

“Yes, all yours,” You moan breathlessly, your pussy throbbing with the bubbling feeling in your stomach as your back dips down even more to accept the feeling of Harry spreading you apart.

“My good little slut.” Harry hums. You whine as his pace continues, eyes begin to flutter from the lack of air and your climax climbing up your spine.

The intense burning sensation in your stomach causes your hands to grow with sweat as he never slows down his movements, the way he was in you and whispering how dirty you are for getting off to this has your mind in a warp. It felt so good to get the fantasy that you always held in the back of your mind to finally come undone before you.

The fact he pretended to know who you were, yet continued to bother you until he had you vulnerable, you were so turned on playing back the moment of him slapping you and tugging on your hair for playing dumb to him. Just those thoughts had you expelling more wetness out of you and tug Harry’s head deeper into your skin.

He’s thrusting into you roughly as the sunsets along you both with the trees covering your sweaty clothed bodies. “So sexy,” Harry breathes into your skin, his nose brushing up against the back of your neck as the grip on your throat never loosens.

“Fuck,” You choke, vision going blurry as you felt the spit in your throat go down achingly slow.

The pulsing feeling in your clit draws up your spine and makes your toes curl in your boots, knees going weak but Harry didn’t stop his restless movements. Your lungs hammer in your chest, begging for an inch of oxygen as your pussy is drips with your sweet mixture. Your high taking over your nerves and releasing yourself all over him.

The hold Harry has on your neck relieves its grip while the one that forces your hips down was now wrap around you; lifting you into his chest as he keeps on going. Lips still pressing against your hot skin, breath blowing the tiny hairs there while the hand you have in his curls in lets go and falls into the wood.

“God you feel so good,” He rasps in your ear, the foot you had on the stump slipping and making your chest completely lean into the tree now, back meeting his thrusts even more.

The feeling overcoming your climax had you in a complete frenzy, your legs quivering as whimpers and the sound of the wetness emerging from your pussy fills your ears, your eyes begging to close but with each lunge of Harry hips they were jerking back open. Your sight being met with the darkness of the sky and the bunched up leaves by your feet.

“Love fucking your pussy,” Harry grunts, his hand leaving your throat to grip your hair in his hands and tug your head back. A whine tears through your throat, head now looking up at the natural cravings into the tree as the feeling of his hips begin to slow down.

Wet kisses press down your neck as the feeling of him draws out of you before seeping back in, the grasp he has on your hair relaxing as he begins to massage your scalp, his movements of his rolling hips slow until his seed is sinking into you.

It makes Harry groan, his hand turning your head and locking your lips together, the taste of him on your tongue as you drink him in. His hips meeting yours sluggishly until he pulls out of you, his member leaving your sore pussy and letting the fluid of you both spill out. You sigh out from the feeling of his thickness leaving and the mixture running down your ripped up stockings.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Harry breathes against your lips. The hand he has on your hip slips between your folds and catches the fluid between his two fingers, bringing them to your face.

Your focus goes to them and licks the substance off, tongue twisting between each digit to get every drop.

“My dirty girl,” Harry rasps, his lips sinking back onto yours to taste you both.

The pounding in your chest subsides, your fingers releasing the strong hold they had against the wood as you lean into his touch. The once muffled noise in your ears welcomes the sound of Harry’s jacket jingling.

The bubbling feeling of excitement from your accomplishment tingles your ears and lets a smirk tear and break the kiss. It makes faint one run along his, two fingers that are clean from your tongue holding your jaw with the same grip he had when he was ruining your throat.

“What?”

“If you can do this, I’m sure you’re up for the other fantasies I have…”

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #smuttyaf #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #hs #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles fandom #harry styles fic rec #dark harry styles #harry styles kink #harry styles one shots #harry styles dominate

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cherry-titz · 5 months

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HI GUYS @cherryjuiceblues here ! oof, this took me longer than i anticipated to finish, and for that i am sorry, friends! this is my installment to mine and @1800titz first collab :D if you haven't already read part one, written by titz herself, then you can do so here !!

some warnings before you read! following on from part one, this is dark harry. some very dark themes going on. and once again, as miss titz previously stated, harry is simply a faceclaim here. there is absolutely no intention to associate the real harry with this fictitious one !!

content warnings include: dom/sub themes, exhibitionism, light spanking/impact play, choking, name-calling, degradation, praise, threats of intending to cause harm (hitchhikerry is not a good man at all). generally, he's a bit meaner in this one!

word count is just under 11k (both of us had aimed to write a short and snappy 6-7k each but here we are LMAO) !! ENJOY :D

This bathroom is filthy. The slanted mirror swirls a little, in a thick, hypnotic puddle, as Y/N stares at the smeared reflection before her.

A new low, perhaps—this night, for Y/N (only competing with one other evening that springs to mind). In an unloved bar, in a dingy bathroom, fingers digging into grimy porcelain that no amount of suds from the muddy bar of soap could clean. (And, really—whose idea was it to have bars of soap in a public place?) Clenching digits in an attempt to wake up some from the wave of paranoia that skittered across her skin in the public eye of the bar.

Y/N swears her pupils fluctuate as she grounds herself in them. Recollects herself in this pigsty of an establishment. Forces some of the alcohol to evaporate off of her in waves as she sobers up to the thought of piss-stained tiles and sticky toilet seats.

Y/N doesn’t drink alone.

But she didn’t do hitchhikers either and look where that got her.

In a shithole—that’s where. In a shithole, on her lonesome, on a Monday night of all nights. Argued to be the worst day of the week to wake up, go to school, work—and most relevantly—get drunk. But she’d considered it important to force herself out—to maintain control over her actions whether they be sensible or not. It was rather unimportant to Y/N what day of the week it was. They’d sort of all merged into one since receiving the phone call—every day reduced to the same thoughts tick, tick, ticking inside of her head. Hours spent ping-ponging back and forth over every moment in which her life could have ended inside of that car.

She’d tried since; to phone him back. Each time met with the denying wall of a payphone. Y/N almost grew comforted by that failure—that safety of knowing no one would ever answer—until rationality kicked in and she blocked the number. A small, tiny ounce of power to hold.

And there’s a part of her, still, that doesn’t quite believe it. That surely friendly Harry—adorned in his soft sweatshirt, with his dimpled cheeks and yellow nails—could have only been laughing with his friends, all huddled around his phone that blasted on speaker, at the successful spooking of an unassuming girl. Despite the fact of all the evidence stacking up against him—that she’d heard only his breaths, only his voice, and the undeniable dead of night surrounding him. She needn’t even ponder over the possibility to accept it—lone stranger on the side of the road, in the dead of night, sleeping at a motel, so eager to manhandle and encourage Y/N’s struggle—

The door clatters, and then a body pushes it open, the heavy wood resisting some and disguising Y/N’s flinch at the sudden intrusion. She clears her throat, turning the tap on and pretending to wash her hands as she meets the eyes of a woman in the mirror, a small weak smile upturning Y/N’s lips, before she disappears inside a cubicle.

She’s retraced every single moment of that night. Looking back with shame and humiliation. Because (and it’s pointless to waste even a second on it now but) how silly—how stupid—does someone have to be; how lacking in common sense or respect for one’s self, to pick up a stranger on the side of the road. Harry was right to scold her over the phone, no matter the irony of it all. She might as well have served herself up on a platter for him to take. So easy, he’d said.

So easy it hadn’t been fun, is all Y/N can assume.

The broken seal of the door reminds her of the outside world, shaking her head—an attempt to rattle her thoughts into submission, to collect herself and focus on the surface level image of her reflection. To remember the facts. That she looks pretty. Pretty and put-together—and ready to drown more of her sorrows in another cocktail mixed with her chosen spirit.

It’s as quiet as it was before Y/N slipped into the bathroom, a handful of lonely men scattered on opposite ends of the bar—the occasional group huddled around a table—or a couple sprawled against a sofa. The wall-mounted television has been switched on, subtitles an obnoxious fluorescent yellow as the news captures the attention of few desolate drinkers. Y/N doesn’t notice the extra body occupying a high-top table nearest to the bar, her back turned towards them, as she makes herself (comfortable would be an exaggeration) settled once again on a rickety, wooden stool.

She doesn’t notice. Not until she orders a Cosmopolitan and twists her clutch onto her lap, opening the zipper’s teeth, fingers pinching the familiar edge of her card just enough for it to peek past the confines, and is hastily denied by the bartender. He shakes his head, hands busy as he mixes her drink, nodding in some direction behind her as he says, “Gentleman over there paid for it.”

And that… that can’t be right. Gentle and man are two respected words in their own right but together? Y/N’s spine straightens and her muscles tighten. There’s no way she could know, but somehow she does—shutting her eyes, expelling a breath in preparation—as she twists around on her stool to see the man who she invited into her sedan all those days ago. There was nothing gentle about that night.

Or so she found out.

And he looks… the same. Of course he does.

Same chocolate-swirled curls brushing against the unperturbed smoothness of his forehead. Same strong line of his nose, same hard clench of his jaw dusted in scruff that she’d let him brush against her face as they’d kissed. Same plush lips that purse around the rim of a tumbler, cheekbones sharp as he tips his head back enough to allow the cool liquid to slick down his throat. Same rough, sinewy fingers—the subdued yellow of his nails (so far along the spectrum from the blinding fluorescence of the television subtitles) now chipped in a way that suggests it’s fashionable as opposed to scruffy.

All the same features and yet Y/N can’t help but picture them in a new, scathing light—those soft tendrils matted with thick, dark blood, splatters dripping down his temple and beading at his chin. Blush-tinted lips curled up in a sinister, satisfied smile—chilling enough to slow the blood in Y/N’s veins—and those hands; his fingers that had previously delivered so much pleasure, wrapping around the handle of a sharpened blade with the intent to inflict more than she could have bargained for—no sunshine yellow in sight.

And the morbid image is hardly helped by the baggy garments that swallow his limbs, grey sweats and black hoodie selling one of two different visuals. Either that of a cosy boyfriend or a looming presence on a dimly lit street, late at night. Y/N’s brain opts for the latter.

Harry meets Y/N’s gaze with confidence—if he is surprised, or displeased, or worried by her presence then it shows none on his face. She watches the tick of his throat as he swallows the remainder of what looks like whiskey, before carelessly sliding the glass across the table in which he is slouching away from with arrogance, to meet its other empty friend as they clink together. His posture suggests complete ease—the sort of position you would take on a deep-set sofa—an ankle slung across a knee, an elbow propped behind you. Perhaps the type of arrogance only the person who had admitted their desire to murder you could have.

She blinks at him, unable to startle back around in fear. Not in order to preserve any sort of upper hand—but from a complete lack of said immediate panic; that fight or flight response. She blinks as she sees the screen of her phone behind her eyelids; as she sees every unanswered call she dialled to that payphone. The ringing in her ear as she waited, and waited, and waited.

The reminiscence, the amusement in his tone—that switched as though controlled by one—to disappointment and disdain, to deliver a warning with such severity that only left Y/N with more questions. Why wait an entire week to call? Why tell her about his intention? How many times had he killed before? Why didn’t he kill her?

“—Police have found what they believe to be the body of twenty-five-year-old Ruby Wilcox…” Y/N doesn’t know why this specific statement is deemed salient enough to shove it’s way past all the other droning noise and embed itself deep within her head—but it is. As though Ruby Wilcox is her own name, Y/N feels a pit of dread churning around inside of her stomach, twisting and turning in a true derivation of discomfort, as she peers around to acknowledge that she’s heard correctly, skimming the subtitles with grave trepidation. The journalist goes on, “...reported missing six days ago…” but Y/N already feels as though she’s heard the story.

She turns back towards Harry, unsure as to why it feels necessary to do so—the moment their eyes met the first time, she should have bolted. Harry’s already looking at her, as though his eyes have never trailed away, and it’s telling—the quirk of his lips. The way his tongue darts out to wet them and he can’t contain the small bracket that they form into.

His left eye flutters closed in a wink as new droning voices of monotonous news presenters burrow deeper and deeper into Y/N’s skin. The fear is undeniable. It aches deep inside the marrow of her bones; a lingering, languishing throbbing that can only be attributed to embedded dread. But if Y/N can’t deny that she hasn’t run for the hills then she also can’t deny the way the fear dances atop her skin like little bolts of lightning. Displacing the panic with a desperate flush of rage—a desire for violence to be met with violence—in a less than chaste way.

The danger—it… excites her, it challenges her. To know why, and how, to learn the extent of what spared her life. To take more. It feels reckless; almost demanding of death. It feels belittling, and demeaning, and like everything every girl is ever taught not to do. Could Y/N really justify endangering her life for the perversity of something as insignificant as body-slumping sex? Could she ever look herself in the eye again?

…Did it matter?

It doesn’t seem to when Harry suddenly stretches his arms out above his head, cracking the bones from his strenuous period of sitting down, and pushes himself up from the creaking, groaning chair. It seems as though the decision is made for Y/N when she bolts to follow him without a second thought. Or she bolts in her mind—her body delivers a much more convincing performance of nonchalance—seemingly casual as she sifts through her clutch in a faux check of inventory.

And then, when Harry’s broad back faces her for long enough, weaving his way towards the steel door of the back entrance—that’s when Y/N jumps down from her stool, downs the entirety of her drink and relishes in the warmth that blossoms in her chest, and leaves the bar.

The heavy door screams on its hinges, slamming shut with a reverberating bang. Y/N peers left down the alleyway, dim light from a distant streetlamp casting shadows across gravel—

“Sneaky little thing.”

Y/N startles, whipping around to see her stranger (surprised but not understandably by logic) as he mutters, “No self-preservation.” Effortlessly cool, leaning against the exterior of the bar—rough brick undoubtedly frigid and scratchy. His jaw works incessantly, clearly nursing a flavour of gum that he can only just have popped into his mouth—and disgust gurgles in Y/N’s stomach at the sight of his demeanour—unsettling yet titillating, all the same.

“Y’following me?” he pushes forward off of the wall, height suddenly looming as his lip curls into a simper much less pleasant than that of the man she’d met last week. Though it fails to feel threatening, her mouth still runs dry, now faced with the opportunity to say… anything—to ask, demand, accuse to her heart’s content—but she… she can’t, too inundated by the possibilities as her brain splutters and jolts like an empty engine.

When Y/N doesn’t answer, Harry’s mouth crooks up, pulling back to reveal a deceptively pretty smile—before he purses his lips to blow a cool stream of breath directly into Y/N’s face. Her nose crinkles as the conspicuous scent of peppermint forces its way, no doubt into her brain—to associate peppermint with him for the rest of her life—may it be long or considerably shorter after tonight. “Minty fresh,” Harry smiles around a chew, impishly delighted by Y/N’s scowl. “Wha’s the matter? Don’t like peppermint?”

Sure—yes, sure, she likes peppermint but what level of absurdity— A humourless bark of a laugh fizzles between them, Y/N unable and unwilling to ignore the fatuity of the situation. Y/N could say so much, but it seems she chooses, “I prefer bubblegum,” clearing her throat to ignore the waver in her voice.

Harry nods earnestly—as though her taste in confectionery holds the same gravity as that of an embarrassing truth or a confession of crisis—jaw flexing on its hinges, “Mm, makes sense. Little—” his arm reaches out, finger uncurling to brush a knuckle against a loose strand of her hair, “bubblegum princess,” and Y/N wonders if he might be a little insane, body tight as the distance between them lessens. Distance that could only be described as valuable in such a situation, with such a person.

It strikes Y/N now, the difference in his temperament—gone is the charm of a man brimming with polite conversation to show his gratitude towards her—in his place stands the one who spewed filth inside the confines of her sedan. Shameless, smug, awash with a handful of complexes, she’s now sure.

Despite the blast of fresh air and biting peppermint encouraging sobriety, dregs of intoxication still prevalently linger in Y/N’s bloodstream. That boost of liquid courage she needs to say what she does, to be reminded of that vehement anger, and to ignore the pounding of her heart—the way it begs and pleads with her to go back inside—as her foot takes her a step forward. Her voice drops to a whisper as she tilts her head up, now intimately close, “Do you still think my eyes are pretty?”

And Harry laughs—the sound forced from his lungs as he fails to conceal amusement. “Christ, no shame…” he pauses, eyes darting back and forth between Y/N’s falsely confident ones, “‘f course I do, I meant everything I said... Everything.”

It’s those words that drive home the reality of the situation; a clear confession, a clear joy to remember—“I was going to kill you that night. Thought about draining the life from those pretty eyes the second you rolled your window down.”

Y/N’s tether to sanity unravels, hanging on by a mere thread as she throws her hands in front of her wildly. “I let you inside my fucking car!” The fury finally weaponised, despite the whiny defiance of her tone, that is only further fuelled by Harry’s wry smile, growing and growing. It sets something alight in Y/N; the defeating realisation of a true psychopath before her. Nothing she could say would allow sympathy to seep into his bones.

Not that she demanded sympathy. What good would an apology do? An apology for what… scaring her? Disturbing her so deeply to her core that life felt bathed—drowned—in danger? The only real, tangible thing Harry had done to her was have sex with her and that— That was nothing to apologise for, no matter the embarrassment to admit as such.

So why… bother… Why bother to fight when he smells so inviting and the warmth of his body yearns to take the chill off of hers?

Harry dips down—peppermint again, mixed with the same pleasant cologne from the night he tainted her backseats, that had blotted itself in her memory unknowingly—eyes boring into her own. “You did more than that, pet,” an effort to get the words out without scoffing, “You let me fuck you inside your car. Begged me—”

She shoves demurely at his chest, coils of heat tightening at the memory, causing only the slightest of stumbles as Harry grips her hand to his chest and tugs her with him “—pleaded me—for it, in fact.” His breath fans across her face; close enough to still be warm and pebble her cheeks with goosebumps. Her lashes flutter innocuously—the perfect picture of doe-eyed and yet she has no intention behind it.

Y/N’s face is warm with the alcohol coursing underneath her skin and the tingling of Harry’s air dusted across it, that jacket of heat the only thing bracing her against the whipping breeze against her bare legs. Naturally, if it wasn’t for the existence of Harry, Y/N would feel perfectly content right now. Tipsy but not detrimentally so—surfing along the wave of intoxication with only an occasional plunge beneath the bracing waters. She feels good like this, most of the time. She feels confident, and sexy, and free of all of life’s burdens.

But now one of life’s more recent burdens is standing in front of her, simmering smile surely on the verge of snapping. Y/N wonders what she might do in order to make that happen—so be it, if that puts herself at risk. There's no such thing as risk when you’re a drink or two down. The anger feels subdued, the fear feels subdued—something in the back of her mind convincing Y/N of some faux sense of safety—however real or fake it may be.

“Didn’t you?” Harry nudges, sly fingertips catching her off guard as they tap sequentially against the curve of her waist, gently—subtly—manoeuvring Y/N’s body to rest against the harsh stone. She hardly realises she’s moving, too honed in on the whispering taunt of Harry’s voice.

Yes. She did.

But she doesn’t care to focus on that anymore—she doesn’t care to play the regretful part. Y/N has moved onto bigger and better things. She tilts her chin up, defiant in nature, as her tone takes on that of a snarky assertion, “How—how were you g’na do it? Tell me.”

It doesn’t seem as though Harry needs a reminder; he knows what she’s referring to. He knows and he shows zero interest in humouring it—her perverse request. Tapping fingers trail their way up, up, up until they’re cradling her collarbones, vast palm spread out across her chest.

He plays gentle, unknowing, as he shushes her, “It doesn’t matter…” he murmurs, hand slipping higher still until his long fingers can curl and wrap around her throat, the first indication of the whiskey having its desired effect clear when his eyelids flutter and syllables threaten to merge.

He doesn’t squeeze and it’s disturbingly unforeseen—the hold in which he keeps her in without pressure. But it’s not enough, and Y/N’s not satisfied with such an answer. No matter the desperation to surge forward and kiss him messily, or the eagerness to find out whether he’ll explore her mouth again or degrade her for his pleasure, Y/N doesn’t budge.

“Tell me,” she insists, voice teetering on the edge of too loud in the soulless alleyway. Her fist comes up in a weak thud against his chest, unable to display any other sort of physicality. “How were you gonna kill me, Harry—?” Her breath catches as he digs his fingers into the side of her throat—finally satisfied to see the edge of that smirk wiped off of his face. Piercing green holds her in place, sneer dominating her vision.

“Shut up—”

“When you were cumming inside me—?”

“—Shut the fuck up.”

Y/N wheezes when he squeezes even harder, mouth dropping open in a masochistic smile—eyes half-lidded as the blood fights its way to her brain. The warmth of Harry’s palm against the column of her neck presses just as hard, taunting and tormenting her airways—daring her to breathe.

“What—did you—” a second of respite in which he loosens his grip, as Y/N inhales as much as her little lungs can take, “do to that—woman?”

He scoffs at her—almost annoyed that she would care enough to ask—that he even has to waste his energy thinking about it. “I didn’t fuck her if that’s what you’re worried about,” serrated ice in his tone, freezing over when he spits out, “sweetheart.” No attempt at denial, no reassurance of his innocence—just. I didn’t fuck her.

It comes barrelling out; the provocation, “Had to get your fix somewhere else, then,” Y/N accuses, swallowing underneath the weight of his hand. “Didn’t kill me so you had to hurt poor Ruby Wilcox, didn’t you?”

“—Don’t play detective, pet,” he expertly deflects, squeezing harder—disguising any sort of discomfort with the quirk of his lips, “it doesn’t suit you. Much preferred it when you were dumb around my fingers, barking f’me like a good girl. D’you remember that?”

Very well. Too well. Even still after learning the truth, Y/N had remembered it in great detail. “Why didn’t you kill me?” she whispers, numb now to the pads of his digits and the way they demand bruising against the delicate skin of her neck. Pointed indentations to aggravate with her own pressing fingers (assuming she lives long enough for them to form).

“Maybe I just wanted another taste,” Harry admits, eyes clear—surprisingly sincere despite the vulnerability of such a claim. “Maybe I wanted to hear about more of your bad dates—”

“—It wasn’t a date—”

“Maybe…” and Y/N starts to doubt that earnest expression, “maybe I got off on the idea of ruining something—of leaving this kind, sweet, generous girl… with something real to cry about.”

Something real? Something real?

“Why me?” She’s not kidding herself; there’s nothing special or unique that might have altered years and years of Harry’s personal psychology—but maybe, just maybe—Y/N might be given something to help her sleep a little better at night. A reason; valid or not, just something to roll around in the palm of her hands until she could make sense of it.

She’s granted no such thing.

“You stopped the car, Y/N,” he drawls in such a casual tone, sounding the same as the man who had told her his name, debated the importance of the rules of Uno, and breathed a sincere wish that she got home safe. “You let me in. I had nothing to do with it,” Harry promises. But it’s not a friendly promise, nor a reassuring one. It’s an assertion that leaves no room for interpretation, a cold, hard fact that can never be dissected. And unfortunately for Y/N, the fact of the matter remains that this is all her fault.

Cold fingers curl into the front of his hoodie, material scrunching between her digits. Harry tuts, “Hands off,” but Y/N only grips him tighter—knuckles tensing as she urges him closer towards her body by the baggy fabric. (When she’s sober she might berate herself for pushing him the wrong way.)

It’s discernible; Harry’s distaste—eyes sharpening as they slice into her own. He takes matters into his own hands, forcibly removing hers from his front and squeezing the delicate bones of her wrists as he presses them, less than gently, into the harsh bricks.

“Not so obedient today, are we?” Their hips dare to meet, twitches and nudges teasing the inevitable. Y/N can’t disguise the way she bucks a little, thin dress waiting to be bunched and moulded by bigger hands. She knows what he feels like—and it’s impossible not to yearn for it.

Her words are airy—breathless from no exertion—heartbeat drumming in her chest with anticipation. “I assumed you…liked a struggle.”

“I do,” Harry hums, a smile edging back onto his face, as he dips down enough for his breath to kiss her ear, “...but where’s my easy little stray gone?” he pouts, leaning back to tilt his head in a way that suggests simple curiosity. “Girl I met two weeks ago was already open wide f’me by now… Wanna show me your tongue again, pet?”

And it’s juvenile—but Y/N isn’t sober and neither is Harry—when she sticks it out in a way similar to that of a snotty toddler as opposed to the languid reveal she gave him in her car. She pokes it out and scrunches her nose, almost amusing herself in the process. In what is a ridiculous display of immaturity that far from pleases Harry.

He grunts, “Yeah, that’s funny,” patting the side of her face. Hard. Not a slap but something that makes her cheek tingle and her jaw loosen. Even more so when Harry’s fingers squeeze either side and manhandle her face left and right—moving her as he pleases and reveling in the dipping of her eyebrows and the rounding of her eyes. It’s pathetic, really, how quickly she can be reduced to insignificance with just a little pawing.

But he underestimates her ever so slightly. She’s not quite finished it seems, when—through the mush of her mouth—she gurgles, “Are y’gonna kill me this time?”

The amusement that dances so often in Harry’s eyes fizzles out once more. “Shut up, Y/N,” he shoves closer, the blushing tip of his nose daring to brush against her bridge. “Don’t make me say it again.”

She practically preens, rocking up onto the tips of her toes, forcing their chill-bitten skin to brush. “Or what? You’ll make me?” The question floats between them like a perilous snowflake, not for long enough before she jeers, “How you g’na do it? You’ll finally get to watch th—”

Harry’s had enough of her voice, surging forward, desperately capturing the end of Y/N’s exhalation and coalescing it with his own. It’s rough, and it’s dirty—his fingers still controlling every purse of Y/N’s lips—hips finally clashing in a grinding of bones. He lets go of her face, encompassing hands tugging through her hair as he holds the back of her head. The only gesture of comfort he grants her away from the wall; not for long before those same fingers roam and dishevel—nails pinching just on the side of too hard.

Every subconscious twitch of her own fingers has Harry alert—any attempt of Y/N’s made to touch him in exchange meets her swift return of each wrist pinned to either side of her head—knuckles brushing sharp bumps of brick. A small noise seeps out of her mouth and into his own, vibrating against his lips and reducing Harry to a deep, acknowledging sigh.

They’re uncoordinated; desperation dominating precision and finesse. Laboured exhalations blanket their cheeks, noses squished and lips swollen. Harry’s hands float back up to her face, pressing coolly against the sides, spanning the entirety as his thumbs bracket their mouths. He holds her like he wants to consume her—crawl inside her skin, swallow her down—tongue boldly stroking against her own in contrastingly lazy flicks. A dizzying enmeshment of fast and slow, hard and soft.

Y/N’s neck aches from the angle in which she’s forced to meet Harry’s mouth, strong palms nearly pulling her off of her toes as he cups her cheeks with almost too much chivalry, too much romance. It would be all too easy to forget his confession, encompassed in his warmth, his scent—too easy to pretend it didn’t matter.

She sinks her teeth into his bottom lip, pulling back as they clamp and opening her eyes just enough to watch the flesh snap back into place. There’s no time to smile with sadistic glee before Y/N’s head is yanked back by the roots of her hair, slender fingers wrapped in tendrils and tugging. Hard. A gasp is ripped from the back of her throat, cold and sharp against her tonsils. And Harry gets to experience the twitch of his lips and the amusement of winning as Y/N’s back bends to accommodate the sudden stretch of her neck.

He peers down at her parted lips, the slight tension in her brows from the strain, and her heavy arms that slowly droop down against the wall. Small clouds of mist pass between them—the cold air kissing their recycled breaths—soaking in the chill the longer they stay outdoors. The stray street light bounces off of one side of Harry's back, casting a glowing outline around his body as he blocks Y/N in against the wall. The irony of such an image. She shuffles her feet atop the gravel, aching from lack of movement—twitching when a thick thigh nudges its way between her own—soft sweatpants stroking her naked skin.

“Bite me again, sweetheart…” Harry taunts, voice scarily steady, “see what happens.”

A choked laugh escapes from Y/N’s chest, forced through her open mouth. A delightful invitation. She pushes as far up on her toes as she can manage, pulling against the force of Harry’s hand—reaching as far as his chin before she eases the tension. He smirks down at her, wandering fingers teasing the hem of her dress as his thigh warms between hers.

“Pity I don’t get to rip another pair of little tights,” he tuts, trailing a digit up the inside of her knee. “Trying to make the old men happy tonight, were we?” tugging at the material, tight against the tops of her thighs. “Hoping one of them might take you to the bathroom and let you call him Daddy.” He tuts again, “How sad.”

“Would you have?” she pouts, eyes bright with mirth. “Let me call you Daddy?”

“Would I have let you? Would I have given you permission? I don’t think so, pet.” He squishes her cheeks together again—demeaning, degrading—leaning back down to ghost his mouth across her puckered lips. “I don’t think you deserve to call me anything at all.”

Her lungs are tight; desperate for more than just a shallow inhale through her nose, borrowed from another. He’d slowly, ever so slowly, meshed their mouths together once more—stopping her from replying with anything other than a scalding kiss, tongues overlapping in an erotic embrace.

But Y/N finds herself impatient—and Y/N falls short in the realm of manners, greedy hands sneaking down when she gets the chance—palming at the thick outline through Harry’s sweatpants.

“Ah—ah, hands off,” he echoes, fingers tugging at her scalp again, forcibly expelling the breath from her lungs. “Ask nicely. I know you know better than that.”

“I do,” she pants, lips tingling with the imprint of Harry’s own. “I don’t think psychos…deserve nicely.” A dangerous blow. One he doesn’t take lightly—one that makes Y/N think she’s hit a nerve when he grits out his next command, jaw tight and eyes stormy.

“Turn around. You’re pissing me off,” not granting her the option to do so herself before his spanning hands are forcing her waist in a squirming prod until her front meets the wall. She wants to push back but Harry is consuming all the space behind her, chest expanding against her shoulder blades. The heat against her ass is dizzying, tunnelling all of her thoughts to places dissolute.

Harry spits his next words, anger palpable, “Fuckin’ brat,” pulling her against his crotch by the small of her waist. Y/N gasps, ears momentarily filled with nothing but white noise. “I let you go and the universe brought us back together, isn’t that something?” A pause; clearly waiting for her snarky response but he gets nothing. She’s too overtaken by the buzzing between her thighs. “I thought so,” he sighs, “but you’re being such a little bitch tonight.”

A pathetic whine crawls its way out of her downturned lips, wisping between them like a sad trail of smoke. Her head feels thick, like she wants to let it fall back and rest upon Harry’s shoulder. What was she annoyed about again? It feels futile.

The harsh emphasis of ‘bitch’ echoes in her ears about five beats after he’s gritted it out. And it burns deep within her abdomen, a searing coalescence of shame and arousal. “...Not a bitch,” she mumbles, eyes fluttering closed as her hands brace against the wall—willing herself to stay upright; to focus on anything but the heavy bump against her backside. But it is futile, because the insult doesn’t land the way it’s supposed to—it doesn’t upset or offend—and that’s when it becomes clear to Harry that the wall is crumbling. That his charm remains absolute.

“Oh, baby,” he coos, voice lathering her skin like thick globules of honey, “still so easy,” lips kissing the shell of her ear as his breath seeps into her hair, coating and warming. “My little bitch, how about that? Do you like the sound of that?”

She wants to shake her head but it’s too heavy, clogged with the fog of Harry’s voice—every nerve tingling as he glides his palms over her hips and down… across her pelvis and curling around the edge of her dress, teasing it, bunching it up just enough to dance his digits over her mound. Y/N’s hips twitch in anticipation, giving away what her words don’t say.

“Y’want my fingers…” an electrifying brush over her clothed clit, “here?” She exhales a shaky breath, trying to push back into him—it’s the only thing she can do, with her fingernails threatening to dig into stone and her forehead sure to come away with its imprint. Her heartbeat throbs between her thighs and a swallowed whimper seeps out of her mouth. “Got to hear you say it, pet. Say you want me to play with your hot, little cunt.”

“Mhm,” is all Y/N can manage, hoping—praying—that for once it might be good enough.

It’s not.

“Mhm,” Harry echoes, the pressure on her clit disappearing and the bulge nudging against her ass harder. Y/N pushes back—Harry pushes forward. A cant of his hips and a teasing reveal of more and more of her skin, the skirt of her dress manipulated high enough to brush across the small of her back and reveal the breadth of her underwear; less salacious than the purple thong Harry had admired previously. A soft white cotton and frilly pink decorating the hem.

“These are sweet, pet,” he mumbles. But it doesn’t fill her chest with warmth; it fills her with trepidation—waiting for the other shoe to drop—for Harry to tear them or rip them, defile them or taint them. But he never does. He doesn’t do anything aside from stroke his thumb across the hem of her panties, up and along the seam. Y/N exhales, trying to sway her hips in order to sway him but it seems he needs no persuasion.

“I’m waiting,” he scorns—much to Y/N’s distaste. Because waiting is not a luxury that either of them can afford right now. Time… Privacy… Two valuable assets that are not provided by the dimly lit alleyways between dingy bars and the rest of the population. The steel door barely a metre beside Y/N could swing open at any point—revealing a disgruntled worker tired after a long shift—or an impatient pedestrian could decide to try their luck exploring a shortcut and happen upon their preoccupied bodies. And surely there must be a view from a window somewhere, anywhere.

So Y/N says what she knows he wants to hear. “Please,” a whisper—unpossessing of the desperation Harry often desires. But she’s not finished. “Please. Please play with my— my…” his fingers drag down across the gusset, prodding at her fluttering hole through the thin material that’s far from dry. A motivating caress that wobbles Y/N’s voice, “—M-my hot, little cunt.”

Shame bathes in her skin, cheeks blooming with an imprudent heat. But Harry laughs at her compliance, no matter how pathetic or meek. He thuds the width of his fingers over her clit suddenly, Y/N’s knees buckling with the unforeseen impact but Harry grips onto her waist, holding her against the warm wall of his body as his fingers push at her underwear.

The wetness is embarrassing, thick and glossy through the cotton. Harry seems to take pride in it, spending too long nudging his fingers over the slick at her hole instead of focusing where they both know Y/N wants. And then a slip to the side, fingertips prodding at the flimsy hem—manoeuvring it over and out of the way, just enough for the shame to coat his skin.

They’re cold against the radiating heat from between her thighs, pulsing and rolling in waves throughout her insides. A jolt; a twitch, the width of Harry’s chest against her back.

“Hold them—fuck, you’re sopping—hold them f’me,” he instructs, Y/N’s shaking fingers obliging before they even know what for, slinking down the front of her body and shucking the gusset of her panties aside enough for Harry’s liking, “Y’always get this wet or is it just f’me?”

And Harry must know the answer—well acquainted with her pussy once before—asking the questions he knows will satisfy him most. “Jus’ you.” A pathetic admission—even more so when Y/N realises it’s not even a lie.

She’s never been more sure of something. Not by her own hand, not by another cock; never has she been so ruined. “No wonder everyone you fuck bores you.”

Yeah… she had insinuated that—she’d yearned for it to hurt, for it to be interesting—inadvertently matching Harry’s sick sense of pleasure. Because here she was, wetting his fingers—the same fingers he’d taken so much away with—and yet they felt so good.

“You need a bit of danger, baby?” Harry cups over her tightly. “Yeah?”

“—Mhm—”

He smiles, leaning forward into the back of her hair. “Need to pick strange men off of the side of the road? Need to fuck them in alleyways?” His palm grinds along her clit in slow, torturous circles, the tips of his fingers daring to dip inside of her but never breaching. “You gonna let me fuck you, pet? Gonna squeeze that cunt over me again like a good—” he retracts slightly, heavy hand slapping over her pussy and rendering Y/N immobilised, “—fucking—girl?” Each smack jolts her body, knees buckling, crumpled mouth whimpering.

“Ye-yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, please,” her tone borders on watery, thick with overwhelming urgency—coaxing him to warm his fingers inside of her—pleading with her grabbing hand as it reaches behind her and palms at the front of his sweats. And he’s told her no once… twice before already… so it’s only fair that he slaps down on her again. Harder. Louder. The sound of Y/N’s cry echoing out, just teetering over the edge of too pitchy. He doesn’t bother to smother it.

He’s terse, words forced through the gaps of his teeth as he grits, “Stop fucking touching me. Just…” he sighs, warm breath tickling the shell of her ear, “Jus’ be a… good… little hole, yeah?”

Yeah. Yeah. She can do that, she can— “Okay,” the breath trails out of her lips, wispy and frail, body tightening up when she feels… feels his middle finger circling the outside of her cunt—silently pleading for his touch—“O-okay,” she mewls again, dumbstruck as he pushes in—up to the first knuckle, and then the second, and the third.

“There you go,” it’s gentle, almost nurturing; far too soft for the stolen secrecy of an alleyway. Y/N keens, knuckles tightening around the gusset she’s still holding onto for dear life—empty hand flying down to cover Harry’s own. Delicacy coalescing with rigidity. She begs for his finger to sink deeper, to curl and to soothe—to be cajoled by another—to carve its path inside of her.

Harry wiggles it tauntingly, chest puffing out with a frustrated exhalation. “Give me your hand—come on—” he’s rough as he twists it behind her back, away from his skin and exposed to the cold air, “keep it there, stop—bothering me.” She’s not even rewarded with his bruising grasp around her wrist, just the aching chore of correcting each slip down her back as her arm tires.

His ring finger squeezes beside his middle, tip teasing Y/N’s achy hole, soft pads pressing into the spongy front of her walls. He scissors his fingers inside of her slowly, rubbing with virility as the backs of his index and pinky slap into the plush flesh either side of her wet cunt. And then he gets faster, grunting senselessly through every twitch and clench of her pussy. He finds that spot—and then he abuses it—Y/N unable to support her own weight when her knees start buckling and her tired bicep suffers behind her back.

“Can’t handle it, pet?” the cadence of his tone matches each punch of his fingers inside of her—the pit in Y/N’s stomach edged and taunted with every curl against her gummy walls. “S’it too good? Got you shaking all over th’place with just m’fingers.”

She thinks she garbles something unintelligent but it’s impossible to be sure when all the blood is rushing between her legs.

Harry murmurs, lips catching the shell of her ear, “I think you’re a little slut, baby,” biting down on her lobe with contrasting care. “Letting me ruin you in a dirty alleyway… Outside where anyone could see you—see your drippy pussy soaking m’hand.”

“Yes,” a sigh slips—agreeing to nothing in particular—an expression of pleasure, a plea for more.

A dark laugh stretches taut between them, powerful as his fingers speed up, palm slapping against her clit with each thrust. It vibrates and buzzes, twitches and pulsates. “You’re g’na cum for me, pet. Right now.”

It’s a simple demand. One that manhandles Y/N to the very edge—it dangles her over as the drop below taunts her. It beckons her like a siren call. Harry nudges her spot again, and again, and again—coaxing it, consoling it. Every curl of his fingers, every thud of his palm. It fills her up, breath catching, head falling back on her neck. And then she falls, plummets, cascades down—jaw dropped in a silent cry as her cunt convulses seismically around Harry’s fingers—clamping near violently. He rubs her through it, stroking her walls in heavy thrusts as he slows and forces her to feel it all.

“There you go, good girl. Filthy girl.” His hand glistens with her slick, pulling strings away with it. Y/N mourns his fingers, his warmth when he pulls away. Her hole flutters and her body suddenly feels cold—isolated and alone.

He exhales, “Fuck—put your hands on the wall, bend over a bit—that’s it,” crouching down, perverse in the way he inspects the glistening between her thighs. At least, that’s what Y/N assumes he’s doing as he nestles in closer to her cunt, close enough for his breaths to wash over her shaking form.

One heavy forearm pins the skirt of her dress over the rounds of her arse, his free hand coming up to spread her open with the precision of a man who has much more time than either of them currently do. Y/N doesn’t see the way her slick creates ribbons between his fingers after he nudges at her opening and pulls away to scrutinise them. She doesn’t see the way his throat bobs as he tucks his digits past his blushing lips and laves his tongue around them salaciously. She only hears the muffled hum, and the harsh breath leave his nose as the man beneath her drools around himself.

“Sweet little thing,” he pants, voice gruff—gravelly—when he finally brings his fingers back to her centre. He pets at her, thudding the thick of them against her quivering cunt unnecessarily; from a want to render her even less stable on her aching legs. “Absolutely drenched f’me, aren’t you. Does that scare you, sweetheart?”

A whimper climbs out from Y/N’s throat, delayed in her response. Answering of the wrong question—the one she would lie about if she were sober. She needs more—she needs something more… something all-consuming.

“Fuck—fuck me—now,” she pleads, hips pushing back as her neck cranes to catch a glimpse of the man below her.

He rises to his full height. “That’s not how you ask.”

“Please. Or I’ll… I’ll—”

“You’ll what, pet?”

“—I’ll tell everyone…” she whines, trailing off when her words reach no conclusion.

“Yeah? You’ll tell everyone. You’ll go to the police?” She’s nodding mindlessly, head weighing her down. “And what will you say?” tone turning petulant and shrieky, “‘I let him defile me, officer. I let him stretch me out on his big cock, officer. I let him do whatever he wanted, officer—’”

“Please,” her voice is thick, full with a sob—and a wave of panic washes over her at the possibility of not having him at all.

“Don’t know if you deserve it now,” drumming his fingers across the small of her back. “Threatening me, huh? Silly girl.”

No reasoning comes to mind—nothing smart or clever to wield as a rebuttal. Just a slew of pathetic sounds; only possibly attractive to someone yearning for power—someone like Harry. Her body answers for her, still desperately twitching and searching for his own and being rewarded with nothing. He stays stoic, mild palm smoothing along the expanses of her chill-bitten backside.

“Tell you what…” he starts, a sly smile morphing the sound of his voice. “You be quiet f’me, yeah? You be quiet and I’ll give you what you want. Don’t w’na hear a single fucking thing else from this bratty, little mouth, you understand?”

A trick—an attempt for her to slip up before they’ve even begun. She nods frantically, teeth clamped together, lips equally as shut. She’s ready to offer more than is wise, for him to fuck her—ready to give herself up completely just so he’ll quell that ache. The nerves of their exposition are really starting to buzz along the surface of her skin.

“There you go, not so hard, is it?” She shakes her head no, enthralled by the soft sound of skin rubbing against thick cotton, fingers slipping underneath elasticated waistbands. “Good,” Harry murmurs, so quiet that Y/N wouldn’t have heard it if it weren’t for her heightened senses. And then again, even softer, swallowed around a gruff exhale that she can only assume is in response to curling his fingers around himself. “Good girl.”

She feels him tug at the gusset of her panties—haphazardly skewed across her centre, unable to conform without the curl of Y/N’s prying joints keeping them astray. Harry stretches the stitches easily, forcing the fabric to adhere to his perversion, as his thumb strokes the skin adjacent to where she would really feel it.

The corner of a condom wrapper flutters to the floor out of Y/N’s periphery, landing by her achy feet, as the image of Harry tearing it with his teeth flashes behind her eyelids. He rolls it on silently—and for a moment she wishes she could see—picture the length, the girth that had scripted her deepest desires so dominantly.

He smooths his hand up, underneath her dress, shuffling in closer behind her as he nudges the head of his cock against her slick cunt. Y/N’s jaw drops open in a silent whimper—catching the noise, suffocating it in her throat before it ripples out around them. Sweat gathers in the palms of her hands, irritated against the rough brick wall when they’d much rather be buried in his hair. Her forehead dips down, willing Harry to do something… anything.

He strokes up and down her clit, smiling at every overstimulated twitch, dipping down to smear arousal. He teases her, letting the thick of his tip stretch her entrance before he pulls back. Once, twice, three times… And then he sinks in, fingertips creating divots in her hips, holding harder with each inch that he carves out inside of her. When his pelvis cushions against her ass, he sighs—a long exhale of breath—followed by a rumbling from within his chest, “Perfect little pussy.”

Y/N can’t help the little whimper that falls from her lips, brows scrunched, dipping towards the centre of her face. Either Harry has a change of heart or he doesn’t hear her—too enraptured in the feeling of every vein and ridge perfectly filling the space surrounding him; as though created just for him, his cock.

He doesn’t move, perfectly still—embedded deep inside of her convulsing pussy—feeling her out. Mentally (though physically too). Waiting and waiting, regarding her presence with a slight jerk of his hips that already press demandingly into her backside. Waiting for those words to fall off of the tip of her tongue, with a protesting or begging cadence, and redirect his little game. A game Harry doesn’t even know the rules to—the only importance serving in his right to manhandle Y/N every which way; however he may please. A single plea, or a frustrated curse… that’s all he needs.

But she holds on. She stays silent and her hands stay slipping down the bricks. Enough so to have the opposite effect; to rile Harry up, to have his digits curl tighter into her skin and pull out all the way—feel her clench around him in an effort to keep him inside—and then rock back into her. Harder. The thud of their flesh meeting rippling out around them.

Y/N doesn’t think that’s very fair; physically forcing the sounds from her larynx—punching the air from her lungs in such a way that makes it impossible for her silence to remain. She cries out, quiet enough to suggest a desire for modesty but loud enough for Harry’s lips to curl up nefariously.

“What did I say?” His hand clamps around her mouth, fingers brushing her eyelashes if he stretches them out far enough. The grip forces Y/N’s neck to stretch, trembling body elongating as Harry straightens her out and melds her into the wall. Her forearms squish into her biceps and her chest flattens indelicately. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was trying to cast her into the bricks, grout and all.

His hips snap back into her.

“Fuck,” Harry moans wantonly—exaggerated as he amuses himself with the pleasure of her newfound silence—“that’s sexy,” teeth grazing her ear. “So much hotter with your mouth shut, you know that?” She opens it just to spite him, tongue laving over his palm. His hips slap harder against her in return, eager to manoeuvre and curl his digits along the flesh of her tongue—eliciting a harsh gag from her unprepared throat.

It perturbs him none when she presses her teeth into his skin, clamping gently at first but losing the capacity to be anything when Harry slinks his other hand around her neck. The blood fights for its strength, struggling and forcing its way through to her brain as the periphery of Y/N’s vision darkens. There’s nothing scary about it—and if they weren’t outside she might feel a semblance of peace.

“You prefer it like this, don’t you?” Harry gruffs against the side of her face, lashes threatening to kiss over her temple. “Jus’ w’na be treated like a silly—little—slut.” His thrusts punctuate each word, short cries forcing their way between his fingers. Drool gathers in the well of his palm, shameful rivulets smearing against Y/N’s chin.

“Don’t you?”

“Mhm—Mhmn—” she garbles something thick, tongue heavy in her mouth—battling against the extra weight of Harry’s intrusive digits. She swallows around them.

He’s everywhere—soft clothes baggy on him and swamping her frame as he swallows her up—sure that if someone were to simply glance down their alleyway she would not be seen. Heat plagues her, rolling out of her pores in thick, murky waves—the kind of heat she suddenly fears she will always be cold without. The presence against her back, the stoicity of his figure.

Her noises topple out.

Sad, desperate, pathetic little whines—snappy with the way Harry pummels into her. No one would have to ponder for long to dissect the cause of such sounds. Flesh smacking, fabric chafing, laboured breathing.

“Yeah. Yeah. I know,” fingers tighten around her throat. “Shrieky thing, you are. Can’t stay quiet to save your life.”

The insinuation is not lost on her, no matter the delirium that she’s submerged under. And Harry relishes in it; of course he does.

He slurs, “Would you die happy? Right now? Right now, baby?”

And Y/N knows she’s deeply flawed when his words scratch a spot. When she doesn’t recoil in disgust, attempt to pull away and run—but instead melts even further into his grasp. Nodding in jerky nudges of her head. She’s not giving him permission to stop the beating of her heart but she supposes it doesn’t matter either way.

Harry rips his hand from her mouth, trailing saliva down the front of her dress, squeezing his thick forearm between her abdomen and the wall as he searches cruelly to overstimulate her. She’s been so easy thus far, soft and pliable no matter Harry’s propensity for writhing. But when he skims over her clit, that…—that’s when she starts to struggle. To will her body away from the torturous pads of his fingers.

This only encourages her tormentor, deft digits pulling up the hood, allowing no room to hide as he applies direct pressure and tightens the barrier of his arm as her body spasms out of control. A sob rips from Y/N’s chest, loud enough to be deemed inappropriate—and no matter how much pleasure he might find in those sounds, she’s teetering on the brink of becoming dangerous. The grasp around her neck loosens, fingers slipping up to push past her lips again; the only effective method of muffling her at all.

Y/N keens with the weight in her mouth, relishes in the way her lips have to wrap around his big, masculine fingers. “Fucking tight, pet,” Harry grunts, ministrations messy and uncoordinated as he rubs over her clit, bumping into his shaft with every thrust. And she is—clamping down so hard her muscles yearn to loosen. They yearn to melt into a softness, into a safety, into a slumber. But her brain is running away, and Harry’s not slowing down, the tip of his cock abusing the spot he already petted at so perfectly with his fingers.

And he knows she’s nearly there, smiles into the crook of her neck and lets his teeth bite into her flesh for just a second.

But just as her orgasm starts to topple over the edge, he stops. He leans back, pulling her hips so her bum juts out and her back arches again.

“Come on, I’m tired, baby,” he teases, a slither of playfulness lost to the tightness in his voice, hips dragging to a still. “Long day of slaughtering.” Y/N is too far gone to find the joke inappropriate. To even register anymore that this whole affair is inappropriate. “Work for it a little,” Harry leans back, eyeing up the place in which they meet, shining in the glow of the streetlight. She’s still for too long, trying to process where his movements have gone—confused pants turning the ends of Harry’s lips.

“S’feel good?” Hands aid hips slightly—just enough to gain momentum, as Y/N fails to question why she’s suddenly the one fucking him—only chasing the return of the blissful prodding of her insides. Harry’s eyes are glued to her pussy, stretched deliciously around the thick of his cock, dragging back and forth with each nudge of her over him. The soft of her ass meets his pelvis and he delivers a squeeze in return, fingers destined to leave their presence known as he manhandles the flesh. Pulling and indenting, the other hand hanging heavily by his side as his gaze trails over Y/N’s bending body.

He deigns to let the saliva in his mouth pool in the hollow of his tongue, lips pursing as a line of drool drips down onto her puckered hole—the sudden sensation making Y/N convulse around him—twitch and gasp, stutter her hips and still for a moment. Harry thumbs over her carelessly, moving his thumb down to the stretch of her cunt around his prick; an unnecessary wetness. Somewhat possessed by the image below him, removed of all purpose except this one.

“Did I tell you to stop?”

Y/N shakes her head, a squeak ripped from her throat when Harry’s palm comes down on her ass, the sound reverberating through the silence of the alleyway. “N-no,” she cries. No, he didn’t. He never told her to stop.

“So keep fucking moving, sweetheart.” She nods mindlessly, head shaking up and down as her hips pick back up—thighs burning quicker with the exertion of it all. Her forehead scrapes against the wall, eyes squeezing shut with concentration as she focuses on the in and out, back and forth—every stretch against her walls dizzying—every nudge inside of her rendering more and more of her body to jelly.

She wants that feeling back; the one where she’s constantly on the verge of cumming. But there’s too much to focus on—her hands digging into the bricks, her thighs shaking, her clit untouched and overstimulated at the same time.

“I don’t have all fucking day—” Y/N would scoff if she could but the frustration spikes, “—come on. Fuck’s sake—”

Harry loses his patience, pulling out completely in a jarring sequence of motion, leaving Y/N panting—struggling to stay afloat if she were treading water. He physically turns her around and hoists her up as though she is made of nothing—slinging her thighs around the bumps of his hips.

And this is the first time she’s seen his face in… a while. The first time since he’d started dismantling her with his fingers, his cock. Y/N’s heart jumps, the stoicity in which he displays; unsettling and erotic simultaneously. She lifts her heavy hands, moving with the weight of a thousand tonnes, but Harry is quick to catch them. He yanks them overhead, grazing the stone, incarcerated within the circumference of his hand.

It hurts. The wall scratches up the delicate skin of her back, through the flimsy material of her dress. It hurts but it’s grounding—Y/N only thinks about the way her flesh will serve as a reminder of Harry, of this bar, and of this alleyway.

“Gonna make me do everything myself, hm?” gripping around his shaft, painting it across her slit with a harshness that makes Y/N shudder. He’s disrespectful, sliding in indelicately, rough palm yanking down the front of her chest to smooth over her neglected tits, squeezing and moulding between his fingers.

Y/N’s already there, she’s sure. The pit at the bottom of her stomach tightening, her eyes clenching shut, head falling back unceremoniously despite the view she has below her. Harry’s grunting, low, gravelly sounds that enmesh with her own whimpery exhalations.

“Fucking look at me—look at me,” pinching digits squish her cheeks together. A smirk tugs at the corners of Harry’s mouth, tongue darting out to wet his lips when Y/N stares at them. “Let me see that pretty, slutty face.” Her brows quirk when he rocks in particularly deep, eyes flitting around—unsure of what to look at first. Harry’s own face is flushed; perhaps the only indicator he can even feel her at all. That and the size of his pupils—the shortness of his breaths as they wash across her face.

She holds his gaze, mouth ajar with soundless cries.

“You’ll always be my filthy—plaything,” pressing in so close their noses touch. “Even after I’m… long gone—and… you’ve got some other man’s cock inside you,” his breathing shallows, “you’ll always have been mine.” Y/N doesn’t doubt him, she doesn’t even try. Not when he punctuates every word with a thrust so deep it lingers and blossoms inside of her, spreading through each limb and tingling in her fingertips.

Harry’s hand manhandles her face from side to side, grip immovable.

“When you go running back to—Cody… and he can’t fuck you properly… and all you’ll wish for is me—but you’ll hate yourself for it, won’t you, pet?” He pouts, eyes rounding out in a faux sense of sympathy. “For wanting a cold-blooded killer to make you feel good.”

He hammers the final nail into the coffin, lips brushing her own in a sadistic contradiction, voice only a whisper when he says, “You’ll never feel this good again.”

Y/N sobs audibly this time, cunt clenching from his words alone. She thinks he could talk her over the finish line entirely. The promise is dreadful, and it weighs heavy despite how perfectly it nuzzles against her sweet spot. But then he drops her cheeks and snakes those same fingers down, circling easily over her swollen clit. She convulses, weak wrists tugging against the constraints of his hand.

Harry’s close, desperate now to reach his peak. He sinks his teeth into her bottom lip. “Go on. Cum. Cum on your stranger’s cock.”

It’s a wonder Y/N doesn’t crumple to the floor as she cums—but somehow her thighs stay gripped around Harry’s hips. If anything they tighten, squeezing up to his waist, yearning to crush him between her as he pushes her over the edge again and joins her himself as he releases rope after rope into the condom, hips rocking all the way through. He’s moaning a slew of real pretty noises, and Y/N can’t help but pulse at every single one—orgasm begging to last forever—forcing her eyes open no matter the struggle, so that she can really see what he looks like.

It’s devastating—when he smiles. Pleasure written all over his face as his thrusts slow down, cock still dragging through her but no longer with a purpose. And Y/N finds it disorienting; the happiness in which she could be convinced he is feeling. As if it were all a joke—some twisted roleplay—that they were simply playing a fun, little sex game, of all things.

He pats her hip when he slides out, too gentle for Y/N’s post-orgasmic haze. She’s tired now. Too tired to be out at a bar, alone.

Harry encourages her legs from around his waist. “That’s it, down you get, good girl.” Her legs wobble as her feet meet the ground, the centre of her thighs vibrating and pulsating. She only somewhat sees him tying the condom and tucking it back into the wrapper.

“Do you need some help getting home?” Y/N feels like crying. Of course she does. But not from him, never from him—that would be even sillier than letting him fuck her. And then fuck her again.

“N-no,” her voice dry and scratchy.

He’s not convinced but he doesn’t ask again. He simply crouches down and searches for the hem of her underwear under her dress. Y/N thinks he might fix the gusset back over the mess of her pussy but he doesn’t. No, he wiggles them down her thighs and lifts up each shaky leg to retrieve the fabric and twirl it around a slender finger.

“Let me have these, yeah, pet? A little trophy, hm?” Something screams from within Y/N to be scared. But she’s tired now. “It’s only fair… don’t y’think?—if I can’t have what I truly want.” She wishes to wonder why he can’t, but the thought doesn’t form fully. Perhaps he’ll kill her now, after all. She’s fulfilled her brief, performed her duties.

But he’s already taking a few steps back; a distance that feels gargantuan in her current state. She blinks, and then blinks again, mindless fingers fixing clothes and brushing hair from her face. The cold suddenly hits her like a freight train, bare legs littered in goosebumps.

Harry sighs, like he’s considering something in his head before shucking his hoodie from his body and letting it hang between them. An offer. “Keep it warm f’me,” he murmurs, eyes insistent. She takes it with a shaky hand, and hurries to drown herself in his second-hand heat.

He’s already beginning to walk away by the time her head emerges from the fabric, eyes flitting in a panic as they focus back on his shrinking frame. Y/N is offered one final glimpse when he angles his head back to see her, a small smile upturning his mouth. His words fill no hole, quell no worries, heal no wounds. They add insult to injury, smirk morphing his tone.

“Why don’t you… go back inside, yeah? Have another drink for me.”

Y/N’s feet feel stuck—glued to the gravel, too scared to take her eyes off of him for even a moment. But he nods his head towards the door, silently repeating his assertion. “Go on.”

Slowly, she heads back into the bar, the heavy door squealing on its rusty hinges. She sits back down on her previously claimed stool.

She waits.

The stranger never follows her inside. Y/N never notes his silhouette in her peripherals on the other end of the bar, yellow-polished fingertips stroking over a rocks glass as the two pretend not to know one another.

He never comes in and… maybe it’s for the better.

Y/N never sees him again.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles one shots #harry styles fanfiction #dark harry styles #dom!harry #dom!harry styles x sub!reader #dark harry #harry styles writing #harry styles imagines

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gurugirl · 2 months

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Little Flower preview | a dark!harry one shot

Summary: You're startled during a power outage late one night when your co-worker, Harry, is at your door, drenched from the rain. How does he even know where you live?

. . .

When he lifted a hand up to delicately run his fingers over your cheekbone a shiver was sent down the knobs of your spine and you closed your eyes, “No. He’s at home. He doesn’t live here.”

You heard a small laugh press through his nostrils, “I know he doesn’t live here. I’m just fucking with you.”

You opened up your eyes in confusion and you saw a smirk on his face, but he didn’t back away from you to give an inch of space.

“See I’ve been keeping track, Y/n. I know almost everything there is to know about you. Pretty little flower needs something her lame boyfriend can’t give her.”

A shuddered breath left your lungs, “What do you mean?”

Harry’s gentle fingers at your cheekbone lowered to your jaw, “I mean look at what’s going on right now for example. You’ve got the big bad wolf standing in your living room, ready to do ungodly things to you, and your shithead boyfriend is safe at home, probably with his sidepiece because he never cared about you in the first place.”

You swallowed and shook your head, “What? Sidepiece?”

Harry’s dark chuckle vibrated out of his chest as his thumb ran up the side of your neck, “That’s right, little flower. Marco has been cheating on you. Some skinny girl with ratty hair. God only knows what he sees in her when he’s got you at the helm. A shame you’ve chosen such a loser. I would worship the ground you walked on if you were mine.”

“What are you going to do to me?” You had a hard time keeping your thoughts in a straight line. Marco was cheating? It could be a ruse. Perhaps Harry was lying. But also the stroke of his thumb at your neck was pressing harder into your skin and it was causing your head to go dizzy and your limbs were heating up.

Harry’s pink lips curved up into a wicked grin, “I have a few things that I’d like to do to you. Would you like to hear them?”

Did you want to know? Was he going to hurt you? That, you didn’t want. You weren’t much of a fan of pain. But if he were to force himself on you somehow… Maybe if he were to take you to your bed and do something ungodly to you… well, what would that entail?

“Yes.” You squeaked out pathetically.

That dark smile on his face widened, “That’s a good sign, flower. Honestly, I kind of expected a little more of a struggle from you. But you seem to like this so far. That’s going to make this so much easier. So much better for us.”

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missmielyhoran · 6 months

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Prince Charming

in which cooking for your date is always a nice gesture...

A/N- Enjoyyy!

Masterlist

*****

You nervously walked up the stairs leading to the door of your date's home. This was your second unofficial date and first official date with the guy you met at your friend Delilah's halloween party.

He was sweet, funny, and overall a gentleman just like his halloween costume he was your prince charming, which coincidentally matched with yours as you were Cinderella twinning with Delilah who was Snow White.

You wiped your hands down the sides of your dress and took a deep breath in, "Everything's fine" you said to yourself and tried to calm your anxiety.

You were about to knock on the door when the door flew open, and there stood the man of your dream in all his beautiful glory. His hair was perfectly styled like always, and his thin blue shirt left open showed the wife beater he was wearing inside. The tattoos on his collarbones peeked out like they were painted on.

Overall, that man was a devilish temptation.

"Hi" He said with his charming boyish smile. Your heart started beating miles per second, and you somehow managed to breathe out a small 'hi'. God, you looked pathetic.

He let you inside his house, and immediately, you smelled the delicious food he was cooking. He took off your coat and put it over the hanger.

"You look absolutely marvelous, darling," He said, making you blush. His deep voice paired with that british accent was everything you could've imagined.

"Thank you" you said, smiling shyly. He chuckled and kissed your cheek and interlocked his fingers with your own and pulled you inside the house.

His house was beautiful, just like him. Pictures scattered all around the different people you assumed were his family and friends. But before you could look at them closely, he walked up to you with a glass of wine.

"I can't tell you how much I have waited for this day," He said, passing you the glass of wine.

"Me too" you said shyly. You didn't know what it was about him that made you so shy around him that you lost your ability to speak, but you absolutely hated and loved it.

"I'm making you my special dish" He said, walking back towards the kitchen. The house was open plan giving you a clear view of the kitchen from the living room. You turned your whole body towards him and saw him move around the kitchen flawlessly.

"Normal, it would've cost you pretty penny, but since you're pretty, I'm giving you a discount." He said, winking at you.

"Yeah? What do I have to pay with?" You asked in a flirtatious tone.

He walked closer to you, and so did you. His arms circled around your waist, and he pulled you into himself. His breath fanned on your face, almost taking yours with himself. If you thought he was pretty before god did, he looked like a demi god up-close.

His intense green eyes stared back at you as he leaned in more close, his eyes flicked down to your lips then back to your eyes, "Nothing much just don't leave me" he said making you a bit neverous but due to heat of moment you didn't think anything of it.

You leaned in closer, and your lips were about to touch when the oven started beeping, startling you.

He chuckled at your reaction and pulled away from you, making you feel cold in the very cozy warm house. You forwned and walked toward him in the kitchen in search of warmth.

"Wait, what do you actually do?" You ask as he takes out perfectly cooked food from the oven.

"I'm a chef silly," He said, flicking your nose playfully. You hummed deep in thought cause you swear you remember him telling you he was in finance.

You shook your head, thinking you might remember it wrong since you were pretty drunk the first time you met him.

"So, who are these people up on your wall?" You ask as you pick up your phone and frown when you see the endless unanswered texts from Delilah. She hasn't been answering your texts since the halloween, which was more than two weeks ago.

You put your phone down and focused on him explaining about his family. From what you heard, he has one older sister, mom, stepdad, dad, and three cats. You look at the pictures once again when you notice a girl looking a bit too much similar to you only difference being her missing right leg.

You laugh at his childhood stories, and suddenly, you two are sitting on the dining table eating the delicious food he made.

"Oh my god, this is incredible! What is it?" You ask humming at every bite you take.

"Thank you darling, I would tell you, but it's a secret so, I have to kill you after that." He says with a serious expression, making you laugh.

"Sure, Jack," you say, laughing, making him laugh too. You two quickly finish the food and with heavy stomach you make home on the couch and turn on the television while he brings more wine.

The news flashed across the screen about the murder that took place a few days ago, the pictures of body flashes on the screen and you have to stop yourself from throwing up when you see the strangled chopped up chunk of body thrown in the middle of forest.

You see what looked like a short yellow dress with red detailing. What freaks out more is that the crime scene was not that far from the place you currently where at.

You stand up at your shaky legs and walk towards the bathroom, and after searching for it for 5 minutes, you find it. You lock the door behind you and grip the sink tightly so you won't fall down. You look up at yourself in the mirror and see the layer of sweat covering your body.

You were about to splash water on your face when you heard knocking on the bathroom door, "Hey are you okay, darling? Do you need anything?" Jack asked.

"No, I'm fine. I just had a bit too much wine, I think. Be out in a sec, " you answered back. He was about to say something when the doorbell rang, cutting him in between the sentences.

You splashed cold water on your face and wiped it with the hand towel, it didn't do much but it definitely helped with the sweating and blurry vision.

You were about to leave when you stumbled on you foot and fell down, cramping your ankle in process. You winced in pain and tried to stand up when something caught your eye. A red bow peeking out of the under the sink. You took it out and examined, your curiousity turned into horror when you saw the stain of blood on it.

You quickly fisted it into your pocket and stood up wincing. You walked out of the bathroom and were making plans to sneak out quietly when you heard voices coming from the hallway of the main entrance.

"Thank you so much for your cooperation, Mr. Styles" The other man you assumed was a police officer said, but that wasn't your main issue. It was that you were in a man's house who told you his name was Jack Chambers and the officer just called him Mr. Styles.

What the fuck was happening?

You walked back into the bathroom and locked it. Your breathing was growing heavy, and you were on a verge of panic attack.

You had to find something, anything something that could answer your questions, so you did what any person would do, search all the drawers.

Toliteries, shaving kit and towels was the only thing you found when a blub lit in your head and you crouched down and searched near where you found the bow and bingo you found the loose tile in the far corner.

You sobbed as you flicked through all the stuff you made out to be of his previous victims and then you saw the picture of Delilah in the same snow White costume she wore at the Halloween party and the one they found near the body in forest.

Then you saw something you wished were a nightmare, IDs, and series of IDs with the same picture, Jack, Alex, Tom, Marcel, and at last Harry Styles, which you assumed was his real name.

You were in the middle of going through the IDs when you saw the polariods of him and the same amputee girl you saw at the wall. There were so many polariods of them kissing, laughing, cuddling but in all of them he looked happy while she looked sad, the sadness of eyes only you could see somehow, like she was putting on a show.

You were putting the box back at its place when there was knocking on the bathroom door again, and your heart almost stopped.

"Darling? Are you okay in there?" He asked, and you almost cried out loud in furstation and fear.

"Yeah, can-can you bring me some change of clothes?" You asked in a wobbly voice for whatever you could think of at that moment you just needed him gone somewhere but near you so you could run out.

"Ofcourse baby" He said in the same voice you loved a few minutes ago. Now, it sent chills down your spine.

You heard his footsteps walking up the stairs, and you quickly threw the bathroom door open and made a beeline for the main door. You forgot all about your cramped up ankle or that it's freezing out in the middle of November.

As soon as you ran outside, the cold air sent chills down your spine, but at least you were out in free. You ran wherever you could, your vision still blurry, and your head hurt.

You could've ran for what was ten minutes when you heard his voice calling out for you, and it was nearer than it should be.

"Darling, don't run, please." He screamed into the abyss, "You will hurt yourself"

You decided to ignore him and keep walking, your vision growing blurrier and blurrier. You stopped and heaved with the support of the trunk.

Sob whacked through your body when you thought about what you were doing just a few hours ago and what you're doing on.

How did life change so fast?

"Darling" He called out again and you hid behind the thick trunk to catch your breathe, your ankel hurting like a bitch.

"You know you can't hide from me," He said sadistically, "God, I hate this part so much"

"At this point, I think I have a thing for runners," He said, tsking at himself, and it baffled you how he could make jokes at this time. But I guess he could since it was your life at stake and not his.

You had to think fast, or you would be another tally in his notebook. That's when you remembered the police, the forest is not far from there and since there is an open investigation police will be there for sure.

You stand up wincing and walk quietly towards the forest you could see in your bad vision.

"Darling, oh darling," He called out again, and you choked on your sob with terror.

You had to get out of here alive.

You ran like your life depended on it cause it did. You smiled in victory when you saw the flashing blue and red lights and when one of the officers turned and looked at you.

The victory turned into terror again when two strong hands grabbed you harshly in the middle of step and jabbed a syringe into your neck, last thing you saw before passing out was the officer and him exchanging head nods.

******

"Rise and shine darling." You heard a voice sing song.

You opened your eyes slowly, feeling your whole body aching and your head hurt like you drank your body weight. You whined and heard him chuckle at your antics.

"You're so cute," He said as he pushed a bottle of water near your mouth. You tried to refuse, but he was much stronger. You drank the whole bottle of water, feeling like a dry well.

"Look at you being a good girl and listening to me," He said as he kissed your head, making you cry.

"Don't cry darling there is nothing to cry about. Now you and me will be together forever" He said, peppering kisses all over your face.

You looked at him with teary eyes and he gave you a soft smile, a smile which in other circumstances would have melted your insides but right now it made you want to cry more so, you did.

"Oh darling don't cry" He said sadly, "I did all this for you, for us. You and I are meant to be together forever." He said with wobbly voice. "Remember how I thought you would be like all those dumb girls but you were different I knew that the moment you liked my dish or when you listened to me rather than fighting" He brought his forehead to yours and put it over yours.

"I thought I lost you forever, but I didn't. When I saw you at that coffee shop I knew you came back, my darling will always come back to me." He said with happiness dripping from his voice.

"And now I'm never letting you leave ever again" He said with a certain darkness in his voice that sent chills down your spine and when you looked down and saw your right leg gone you knew he meant it.

You're not leaving your prince charming.

*****

A bit shitty cause my writing is a bit rusty but I hope you liked it. Will start posting again slowly.

Love you guys a lot<3

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mouthfulloftoothpasterry · 6 months

Text

A Dark Love

Summary: Two murders on the run in the 70’s fall in love.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, murder, death obvi, gore, smut, knife kink, blood kink, mentions of cannibalism, lots of angst,just a warning this is kind of heavy! So if you don’t feel comfy don’t read ❤️‍🔥

Wc:3.8k

Y/n is sure that man is watching her every move. Either that, or it’s her paranoia building up after being on the run for ten days.

Ten whole days without a single cop glancing her way, after murdering two men at a bar she thought they would at least have a lead on her, but nothing. Nothing for a whole year. Since the news broke of several different men carelessly slashing women, Y/n has decided if men can kill women for no good reason, she can kill men for no reason. It’s better to have no men on the planet than only a few good ones.

Her first was Tommy. Thirty two, blue eyes, brown hair, two hundred and three pounds, born January fourth nineteen forty two. He lives alone in a two bedroom apartment, his room filled with porno mags and disgusting memorabilia of past girls he obsessed over until his last moment.

Y/n met him behind a bar just ten hours after the news about Lynda Ann Healy broke. Y/n was so disgusted and horrified that she fell into a spell once he tried pulling her back into his busted Red Ford pinto that she killed him right then and there, pulling the sharp buckle from her belt and stabbing him, walking all the way back home will bright crimson blood dripping from her face.

That night she discovered her new love. She had always adored taking care of herself, taking it slow and appreciating the simple things in life, like a hot bath or a new rose scented face cream- but nothing made her feel quite better than seeing her plump young skin masked in a coat of blood. She felt like she was reborn, branded into a new woman with a new fresh hungry need to kill.

Since that night she’s been slashing into any man she can, the more bloody the better for her, bathing in the thick blood like it is a luxurious skin cream. Now she’s up to fifteen bodies.

“Have a problem?” Y/n calls over, feeling the cool metal of her dagger press into the plump skin of her thigh to make sure it was still right where she wanted it. There was nothing she loved more than leading a man down onto his knees for his last sight to be her uncovering her sharp blade.

The man is handsome, standing tall with a slim but sturdy build, Tattoos, silky hair piled on top of his head- he obviously hasn’t gotten a haircut in a few months, big green eyes, a mustache dusted above his lip, dressed in some button up shirt with all too tight pants.

She can have a little fun with him before she kills him.

“Not at all, sweet thing.” He shoots her a wink before lighting a joint, taking a drag from it then passing it off to her. She pushes it back toward him but takes her place leaning next to him against his shiny blue car. “No thanks.” He lets out a tiny laugh, pulling it back to his mouth instead. “Your loss.” He breathes out, smoke falling from his mouth.

“I don’t smoke strangers' pot.” Y/n says, glancing up at the man. He smiles, “Then let me introduce myself. I’m Harry. Now we know each other, babe.” She rolls her eyes, stepping back. “I can already tell you’re an asshole.” He tosses his arms out, “c’mon, I don’t bite.” A large smile spreads on his lips, but she ignores it and walks back to the car.

Y/n isn’t quite sure why the man’s stupid words bothered her so much, but she had a feeling about him and something was off. She walks a few feet back to her car before getting inside and starting it up. Shoving the key in and twisting it she realizes the old car finally bit the dust, merely taunting her with a cough but no roar to start.

Her head turns at the noise, seeing Harry roll up next to her. “Looks like you need a ride.” She rolls her eyes, grabbing her couple of bags and stuffing them in his car before flopping into his passenger seat. The car was stolen so she wouldn’t miss it.

What’s the worst that could happen? If he tried something she would just plunge her dagger straight into his heart… but she would lose her cool if her favorite corduroy skirt happened to get blood splatter on it.

“Where are you going?” He asks, glancing over her tight and reserved body language. “Anywhere.” The

“Seriously, where are you going? I thought we were over that stranger danger shit.” Y/ns rolls her eyes at the man, picking at her manicured nails to avoid his gaze. “I’m just going.” it's his turn to roll his eyes, scoffing at her. “Seriously,”

“Get off my case, asshole. You need to take a chill pill.”

“I need to chill?! You need to stop being so fucking up tight!” The second he raises his voice at her she spreads her legs and pulls her dagger from the inside of her thigh, gripping it tight in her hand while he throws his up in surrender.``Hey, Hey, Hey” he rushes out, getting her to back off. “Either fuck off or ill slit your throat. It’s up to you Harry.” She says with a sweet smile, her heart racing from the adrenaline pumping through her veins and the excitement of possibly getting a small taste of the pretty boy's blood.

“Jesus, sorry.” She gives a tiny nod at his apology and backs down, but not before he starts chuckling. “But you wouldnt of stabbed me.'' He raises her hand again, carelessly aiming to just teach him a lesson instead of actually killing him.

“Fuck!” He shouts, blood pouring from his hand. “Dont get it on my fucking skirt!” she shouts back, groaning at a little drop of blood soaking into her skirt. Harry quickly pulls the silky wrap she had tied around her hair and wraps it around his hand to stop the bleeding.

After their panic settled they both let out a shaky breath before Harry pulled her in, grabbing her knife and pressing his lips to hers. “That was so fucking hot but if you ever do that again I will kill you.”

The car is stopped in the middle of the road but that doesn’t stop them from tearing off each other's clothes. She yanks Harry’s button up shirt open while he peels her panties down her legs. She takes her turn and unbuckles his belt, shoving her hand down his pants and pulling his cock out.

Hushed words are exchanged as she slides his big cock deep inside of her pussy, licking the fresh blood that drips down his wrists as he thrusts in and out of her from under her.

Harry holds her dagger against her neck, the sharp blade scraping against her delicate skin. She lets out a moan, her mouth and chin covered in his blood. He kisses her, his tongue slipping inside of her mouth to taste her.

“I can’t believe you stabbed me.” He laughs on her lips, softly dragging the knife down her throat before pressing it between her breasts. He kisses her one last time before pulling away breathlessly, “if you ever try that again, I promise, I won’t hesitate to kill you.” He presses the tip of the dagger into her chest enough to draw a bit of blood then pulls it away.

To be clear, Harry has never killed a woman. Really just killing random men, slitting their throats or strangling them when he notices they are following a young girl home, or slipping a pill in someone’s drink, only for good reason. He’s not a psychopath, he’s only murdered 12 people!

“I’m cumming, fuck.” Y/n cums, letting out a moan and pulling herself away from the man.

After they dress themselves, Harry returns to driving, stepping on the gas and riding down the old country road. It was an absolute ghost town, corn fields, boarded up farm houses, and abandoned shops are the only things left in the old town. Y/n loved this. This was the kind of place she could stay in forever, a town where there are little people and no one cares to get to know the tiny population.

She might consider settling down here, there’s only a gas station and a tiny grocery store, but even those are smaller than the average small town shops. This looked like a lowkey spot to hide out in, or maybe it is something straight out of a horror film- but so is she.

“Pull over” Y/n finally speaks up after about twenty minutes of driving in silence. There was a tiny yellow motel, paint chipping and graffiti covered all along the exterior. “What?” Y/n rolls her eyes at his questioning she grabs the wheel from him and drives through the grass and into the parking lot of the rundown motel. “What the fuck?!” Harry yells, quickly putting the car in park. Y/n jumps out before she can hear any of his bitching and walks through the motel and into a check out counter.

Behind the counter there is a man, a short but sturdy build man with clown makeup on. Any normal person passing through this town and stopping at the motel for a safe place to lay their head for a night would be startled to see such a man behind the counter but this comforted Y/n. If the tall man was anything like her, she knew there wasn’t a chance the cops could bust her here.

“Howdy… Gus. I’m going to need a room for tonight.” She glances at the big wooden sign that reads “HOWDY” with a large cowboy hat burned into it. She isn’t sure where she is, but wherever she was she knew it was just a bunch of homicidal fucked up hicks.

“Single bed or two beds?” The man grumbles, a low deep voice coming out of such a short man. “Single bed.” Harry comes behind her, scoffing. “I’m going to need a room too.”

“Bad news, there’s only one room.”

“How many beds?” Y/n shoots up, hoping she doesn’t have to deal with this man for god knows how long. Yeah, he was just inside of her thirty minutes ago, but that doesn’t mean she wants anything to do with him.

“Only one.” Fucking classic.

“Well you can just keep on steppin’.” Harry shakes his head at her words. “No way, not after you drug me with this hell hole.” Y/n pulls a tight lipped smile, shoving her hand into her pocket aggressively and pulling out some bills and change to slam on the counter before snatching the key from Gus’ hand and stomping off.

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The door flies open while Y/n storms into it, almost hitting Harry with the heavy wooden door. When she takes a quick look-see around the room she is instantly disgusted with the orange shag carpet, the stiff avocado green bedspread and the brightly cartoonish art bolted to the wall. “Well isn’t this just fucking nifty.” She lets out a huff then throws herself back on the bed.

“You act like I’m not bummed out about this too! But we both need a place to crash and it might as well be with each other since we’re in the same boat. So, if you could stop your whining I’m going to clean up my hand.”

She looks away, rolling her eyes. “I won’t hesitate to whip out my blade on you again.” He tossed a hand out to her before locking himself in the bathroom.

Y/n takes this time to unpack her bags, which is really just unzipping them and then tossing them onto the floor.

She’s not sure why she was drawn to this place, but she had a good feeling about it. Sometimes she regrets hurting all those men, having to live such a quiet life, always being on the move and never stable. But she’s hoping soon enough the investigation will be closed. They have been working to figure out who is behind this string of murders for far too long and she knows if she just sticks it out a little while longer they will give up. She’s sad for the families grieving, but not sad that there is a couple less useless fucks in this already shitty world.

Hopefully she and Harry will get along. They got off to a rough start, and are still in a rough stop, but she thinks with a little work they could be partners in crime- no that she’s planning on killing any men while she’s in hiding, but if need be.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖

“Where did you run off to?”

Y/n pushes open the motel door, kicking it shut with her heel and pulling her glass bottle of big red up to her lips for a swig. She dumps the big paper bag onto the entertainment center of the motel room, tossing a bag of chips at the man, then pulling her carton of cigs out and lighting one up. “Convenience store.” She mumbles through her exhale of smoke, flopping back on the squeaky bed where Harry sits up straight.

“If we’re going to be staying together we need to learn a little bit more about each other.” Y/n rolls her eyes, taking another drag off of her Marlboro. “Why are you suddenly Mister moral? Don’t you like…kill people?” Harry rolls his eyes, he’s grown increasingly agitated with her and if she wasn't such a pretty girl maybe he would kill her.

“Yeah, bad people. But that’s irrelevant. I hardly know you.”

“That didn’t stop you from fucking me in your car twenty minutes after we met, even after I stabbed you.” Harry stands up, shaking his head, leaning back and growing out of frustration. “You’ve got a smart fucking mouth.” She gives him a breathy chuckle. “Yeah?” She slowly rises to her feet, ashing her cigarette on the shag carpet and taking another drag from it. “What are you going to do about it?” He takes that as a challenge, grabbing her jaw with his bandaged band, four fingers on one side and his thumb on the other.

They lock eye contact for a couple of beats before Harry pushes his lips onto her, pushing her down onto the bed and unbuckling his belt. It was already three in the morning, and they both know people are sleeping but no one staying in this hell hole is resting well. She slides down the silky sleep shorts she had slid on along with a tattered graphic tee before heading off to the store. Y/n keeps her eyes on his hands as he pulls his belt off and pushes his trousers down.

Hushed words are exchanged and before either of them know it Harry is deep inside of her, lifting one leg to get deeper.

Y/n smiles blissfully, reaching for her dagger she had tossed on the bed and sliding it against his hip bone, making sure not to nick his sensitive skin with her piercing sharp knife. Harry grabs it from her hand, trailing it up her hot body and slowly makes his way up to her neck. He traces the blade around her ear, taking his time before he slides it against the side of her neck, making sure to be soft with her. She annoys the fuck out of him, she has a smart mouth and was too reserved for someone so mouthy, but he cant help but kind of adore her.

He quickly pulls out of her, cumming all over her pussy. “Oh fuck” she whispers, flopping her head back and relaxing into the bed.

Harry pushes her shirt up, kissing over her bare chest and trailing it down her stomach. She feels a fluttery feeling in her belly. Similar to how she feels after she comes home prior to slashing into a man, blood spraying all over her face. She gets to stand under the warm spray of her shower, watching the water go from crimson to clear and drain down, giving her skin a good scrub before sitting bare in front of her vanity and pampering herself with rich creams. She feels like she's being taken care of, such a light delicate feeling.

He sinks to his knees, spreading her legs wide and burying his face between them.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖

“Rise ‘n shine.” Harry sings, shaking Y/n awake.

Y/n blinks her eyes open, groaning and getting in a good stretch so she's not so stiff. “What's on your face?” Harry's hand comes up to wipe at his face, examining the splatter he wipes off. “Oh, i'm not sure.” he walks into the bathroom, quickly cleaning himself up before stepping back into her vision.

“I've been thinking a lot this morning.”

“It’s seven in the morning, how much thinking can you do?” Harry shrugs at her questions, pushing his frankly, fabulous hair back and starting to gather his things together to pack in his hefty leather bag. “Like I was saying, I’ve kind of been thinking… let's leave. Let’s go find some other place to stay.”

Y/n whips her head back to him whilst she strips naked and starts the water in the pink tiled bathroom. “What the fuck are you talking about? I thought we decided that this was the perfect place to hide out! It’s a fucking ghost town here.”

Harry rocks back and forth then turns on his heel to start pacing back and forth in front of the messy bed from Y/n tossing and turning all night. “Not to get all weird but I can't talk to you when you're bare naked. it's tripping me out.” She scoffs, “Prude.” then steps into the shower.

“If you dont mind, make this shower lickety split. I'm itching to get out of this place!” Y/n groans at his nagging, quickly rinsing the shampoo out of her hair and squirting a rather large pile of cream white conditioner into her palm and working it into her hair. “Why are you so impatient? Why cant you take a fucking chill pill.”

“This place is just creeping me out, man. I gotta get out of here.” She groans again, feeling the irritation bubble up and begin to boil over. “We agreed that this is the perfect spot to stay. I'm already settled in. Why leave now?”

“Enough with all the questions, please.”

“Why?!”

“Cause I fucking killed Gus! Okay?! Now please, can you speed this the fuck up so we can get into my goddamn car so we can find some other place to stay?!” Y/n calming but quickly rinses her body off and steps out of the shower, drying herself off much too quickly, basically still dripping wet and she throws the towel into a tiny laundry basket. “What the fuck are you talking about?” Harry throws both of his hands out.

“Again! Jesus christ can you just put something on?”

“Oh my god!” She throws a shirt at him, sliding panties up her legs and quickly getting dressed, deciding to go simple with a pair of yellow corduroy flares and a black rolling stones tee shirt tucked into it. “I guess lets fucking go since you decided to murder someone.” She grabs her back and Harry trails right behind her, walking down the long dark hallway. “We're literally on the run to try to get out of murder charges and you decided to kill the dude behind the check-in counter. What the fuck was that for?” Harry grumbles, obviously growing more and more agitated by her never ending questions and attitude. “I dont want to talk about it.”

They hop in the car, and take off once again.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖

They've been driving for a while.

If Y/n is honest, She’s kind of bummed that they had to leave that motel. At first she was just worried that they would catch wind of another murder and have her and Harry’s name tied to it, but thankfully their records are clean and Gus never took record of their stay. But now, she just misses it. It was a little spooky and there were other sketchy weirdos staying there but that comforted her more than anything.

Y/n thinks she's feeling a touch homesick, after moving into her previous apartment she finally had a place of her own to call home with no roommate, it was all to herself. Having no sense of stability, only being on the road was kind of messing with her, but as much as she doesnt want to admit it to herself- and especially to him, having Harry as a partner in crime has been really great.

“So, do you think youll ever go back to wherever you ran from?” Y/n shakes her head, her feet hung out of the window and a cigarette perched between her two fingers. “Nope. kind of starting fresh. Finding a whole new job and shit, a new place to stay. Maybe I’ll be an avon lady.” They both laugh at her joke. “Me too. Now that I've left there's no way I'm going back.”

“Can I ask you a question and get an honest answer this time?” Harry quickly glances at Y/n, “Sure.” There is a beat of silence before she speaks again. “Why did you kill Gus? I can tell it wasn’t just because he pissed you off. We stayed up talking all last night and you dont kill unless you've got a good reason.”

“So you want the honest answer?”

“Yeah”

“It was because of you.”

“Me?!” Y/n shouts, she hardly spoke a word to Gus.

“Yeah, he was telling me how hot he thought you were and for some reason I just kind of… lashed out.”

Y/n takes a moment to process it, ashing her cigarette and taking one last drag on it before putting it out in the car's ashtray. She clears her throat, “So what, do you think i'm your girlfriend or something now?”

“Well, if you want. I'm not uptight about shit like that or anything. We can just vibe it out.” Y/n softly laughs. “Okay, lover boy.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Y/n and Harry finally found a place to stay. Thankfully, Harry and Y/n both had good money saved up prior to them being on the run so they splurged at a nice hotel and decided to stay in the suite.

This time, Y/n didn't throw a fit when she had to stay in the same room and same bed as Harry. She lets him be a gentleman and he carries her bag up to their room. This time, its going to be different. This time they are going to stay put,find a spot for them to settle down together- not just in a hotel room. Maybe they will put their lives of crime behind them and stick together as one happy couple.

Maybe.

Hiiiii!!!! If you liked this PLEASE reblog!! I’ll love you forever and I doubt a lot of people are going to read this due to sensitive subject matter but hoping this will hit my target audience 😭 im really scared that this got boring towards the middle but it was inspired by house of 1000 corpses! hope you liked it !

Tag list: @harrysddtittys @hopeyoustaythenight @harrysdimple05 @damnasstyles @harrysfolklore @msolbesg @thismaydestroyme @stallrry @ayeshathestyles @michellekstyles @lhharrylilpumpkin @kissmyaxe140 @buckymydarlingangel @cherrycolas-things @luvonstyles @victoria-styles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite

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therealhousewifeofharrystyles · 2 months

Text

Harry’s Home

Part III.

Read Part 1 Here!

Read Part 2 Here!

Pairing/AU: Roommate!Harry // Roommate!Y/N

Word Count: ~ 4k words

⚠️ Content Warnings: Adult Language, Pining, Sexual Desire, References to Body Weight (“Chubby” Reader), Fantasies of Rough Sex, Breeding Fantasies, Exhibitionism, Explicit Depictions of Masturbation(M&F), Dirty Talk, ~Slow Burn~

So, yeah. Harry and I have successfully become somewhat close. We’ve put up with each other’s shit for long enough and eventually bonded—or whatever the hell you call it when a pair of sex-starved adults live in close quarters and they decide to play nice so the walls don’t come down on them.

Even though it’s the time of year when I can see my breath and I have to wear socks to protect my chilly toes when I’m lounging around the house, when I’m around Harry…I might as well be a tea kettle on the verge of squealing in steaming agony. I guess you could say I’ve been in heat.

I’m catching myself spacing all the time, hypnotized by his comfortable routine. He grasps my attention like it’s second-nature to him, and I have no other choice but to relent—to surrender. How fucking pathetic is that? Like, get a grip, woman.

But seriously, I can’t take it anymore. I turn powerless and my body betrays me, simply from the man meeting my eyes with his from across the room. For someone to hold this much control over another human being by just existing…not only is it completely unfair, but it feels otherworldly. It’s as though a connection has been birthed out of the rawest, most sinful form of lust, with its sole purpose to fuse a pair of unwed and horny humans. Thus latching itself onto the two of us, melding an incubus with a siren.

I guess it could just be some crazy-intense sexual tension, too. There’s no fun in that explanation, but whatever. The point is that I can’t fucking take it anymore. Me being so mesmerized by him performing the most mundane of tasks—unscrewing a new jar of jam, rubbing the sleep out of his face as he stumbles out of his bedroom, sneaking little peeks at me from across the room and smirking to himself after he looks away. God. That smirk keeps me up at night…my hands groping myself and massaging my clit to lull myself to dreamland.

Right…so about that…

For the past few months, Harry’s been able to hear me fucking myself through the thin wall that separates our two bedrooms. The divider does absolutely nothing to silence me and my explicit acts of self-pleasure. These walls couldn’t muffle a mouse, let alone an ambitiously horny, and impressively vocal young woman who’s desperate to get her rocks off…hard.

And I’m certain he can hear everything—every gasp, every whine, every slick plunge of my fingers—or a toy—as they’re used in a merciless attack on my own body in order to chase an unattainable high…It's loud. It’s filthy.

It’s pornographic.

And yet Harry indulges in my songs. I know he does. The only way I’m able to get myself off is to picture him on the other side…to close my eyes and astral-project my way into his room and assume the role of the voyeur…as the exhibitionist. I’m a walking oxymoron.

I imagine my waves of ecstasy seeping through the walls to awaken his neglected cock in his tight briefs.

I think to myself,

…I bet he’s wondering whether or not I'm messing with him...if I know he’s listening to me…and if, perhaps, I want him to listen…

If only I were just playing a sick game of tease…Such a possibility would be utterly humiliating for Harry. He loathes feeling like his control is in the hands of another. Said power landing in my hands? Oh…No, no, no. Lest we forget the towel incident? Don’t let the sensitive late-night talks, the apology hugs, or the sleepy cuddles fool you; a switch, Harry is not. Not that he’s told me or anything, but it’s a feeling. When he drags his eyes down to slowly assess me…there isn’t a doubt in my mind that he’s in charge.

He has a limited threshold for teasing and babying, which is precisely why he shooed his own mother out the door after a mere 5 minutes of her jests. Harry spent his entire life as the baby. I sense he’s needed a release for quite some time…and it probably doesn’t help matters that my playful antics are sure-fire triggers for his dark dominance to take over. I think he’s struggled to find the right mate to unleash that part of himself with. At least completely, that is. And I hope I’ve been pressing just the right buttons to experience it all for myself.

But yes, I’ve been fucking myself with lotsa gusto knowing he’s in close earshot of the action. Hopefully, he’s come to successfully make sense of some of my muffled ramblings beyond his wall as, “Yes, Daddy!” as well as the occasional gasp or moan of “Harry.” What? I like it…

Although I’d love to exacerbate the narrative that this has all just been a cruel game started by yours truly—a game that I’m winning, to be clear—I'm actually not messing with him. This had begun purely by accident, and now I'm just continuing to provide some adult entertainment for my, uh...housemate and…good friend.

Before you scold me for being a perv, let me just finish explaining the situation. Because if Harry had a problem with something I did, he’d tell me. And he never complained about this. Never.

Quite the opposite, actually.

The first time I did my private deeds with Harry eavesdropping in the next room, I'd initially felt horribly embarrassed. I hadn't realized how shameless I was, or how loud and desperate the noises were as they came out of me. Once I finally caught myself, it was like space and time had spun to a stop, and I was painfully aware of my raw indecency.

I wasn’t watching porn, reading erotica, or listening to naughty audio recordings. Nope. Only my lustful thoughts fueled the eagerness in my fingers as they played with my pussy. I’d also been blatantly inconsiderate of Harry and his right to privacy whilst they did. I felt dirty. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Pfft, I was hardly thinking of anything. It reminded me of the time just before we moved into this house…when I lurked on his social media pages for the images of his slick, half-naked body which burned themselves into my memory, all just to use him for my own personal, sick, sexual gratification.

And there I was again—now cohabiting a space with the very inspiration for my filth and frustration—lying comfortably atop a spacious, girly pink towel to protect my bed linens from succumbing to my wetness. My knees were spread apart and my dripping cunt was on full display for my closed door across the room. If anyone walked in, they'd unknowingly be entering what many theme parks tend to call a “splash zone.”

Luckily, Harry was in the living room watching some melodramatic video essay on YouTube…Or at least that’s where I’d left him before ending up in the not-so-innocent position atop my mattress.

I hadn’t thought about the fact that the house wasn’t empty until I heard my own whiny sighs combined with unmistakable slippery pussy-rubbing echoing throughout the room. My cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink once I’d realized the extent of my elevated volume. There was no way Harry couldn’t have heard all that. And I had no idea how long I’d been up to it, or for how long at that high of a frequency.

The click of a door closing nearby interrupted my nervous internal monologue—Harry’s door. He was mere meters away from my partially-nude body, but my private quarters kept me safe from any judging eyes. The wall our bedrooms shared stood as the only barricade between our two bodies. For a while, I dismissed my initial self-awareness and I slowly, and carefully, swirled my drenched fingertips over my clit. More of my liquid arousal coated my petite hand. For some reason, the idea of Harry walking in on me like that had me feeling hot. Realistically, that would’ve meant immediate, devastating humiliation. Did that mean I was into that? I’d say yes judging by the way I was pulsing around nothing whilst staring at my door, picturing the man himself standing there smirking at me…tilting his head and patronizing me.

…Aw, would you look at tha’…Does that feel good, Sweet Bunny?

“Mmhmm.” I found myself nodding with a sigh, my eyes relaxed and veiled. My mind refused to backtrack, and instead doubled-down. I probably should have stopped myself right there, but fuck, could self-sabotage feel good.

My brain directed me towards thinking about how pretty and sweet I was on the outside. My body, soft, and my features, so delicate, but so grabbable. Every part of me had an ample amount of plushness to squeeze. To manhandle. My tiny wrists and my elegant neck, the perfect size for a pair of big hands to wrap around. I bit my rosy lip on a whine, then brought my thumb up to rub and tease it before sucking on it. The sinful acts my mouth performed were a secret I kept with the few lucky men who’d experienced it for themselves. I wanted so badly to share that with Harry…I wanted to share all of myself with him.

“Mmm…Harry.” I moaned aloud, releasing my wet thumb and sneaking it under my shirt, swiping the slick pad back and forth over my sensitive tit.

It was hard for me not to think about Harry whenever I touched myself. I thought about his fingers playing with my hair, him burying his face into my neck the times we cuddled…feeling his hard-on against my ass on the couch…the times when he’d hugged me…and catching his gaze drift down to my tits…I bet he’d thought I’d never notice, even after having done it multiple times in a single conversation. Hmm…was Harry Styles an ass man or a tit man? Or was he something else…? He certainly liked looking at my boobs…and I'm able to confirm that his body has a very positive reaction to pressing up against my butt…

Honestly, I didn’t even care what parts of the body Harry liked the most. All I cared about was how badly I wanted to feel him use mine. I wrapped my small hand around my throat and arched my back up off of the mattress, gasping as I mindlessly pushed two hooked fingers inside my tight opening, picturing a certain tall, curly-headed British man molesting me instead. The sound of my own moans enhanced my pleasure as I rode myself towards peak bliss. My modesty had become non-existent as my hands worked each sensitive spot between my legs and teased at my pebbled nipples. A part of me needed him to hear me that night. I was getting off on that taboo. But that’s all it was…my imagination.

It was just a silly little fantasy. Harmless exhibitionism. I wasn’t actually being that loud…—but that’s when I suddenly heard more feedback beyond the wall. It’d been some time since I’d heard the door click shut. My personal distractions got in the way of keeping track of time.

There was an urgent fumbling. A repetitive clinking. The sound resembled a bit of metal hitting other metal. But it was light. Small. Following that, I heard a rough yank and a soft plop as whatever the item was had dropped heavily onto the carpeted floor. An unmistakable hum of a zipper quickly came subsequent to the discarding of the first mystery item—but it was no longer a mystery to me as my sex-clouded mind pieced together what I was hearing. The hands nestled between my thighs slowed at the realization.

Well, Harry’s just changing into his pajamas for the night, right?

My audible x-rated activities bouncing off the walls for several minutes whilst my roommate innocently removed his pants next door…maybe I was overthinking this…I remembered calling out our "goodnight"'s to each other around 10 minutes before I slipped out of my panties and began to shamelessly pleasure myself. He was still in his business-y work clothes when I left him in the living room…and I knew I just heard his bedroom door click shut in the middle of my alone time. And at that point, Harry was right there. He was just trying to unwind, yet happened to be in the room adjacent to mine. It was probably too awkward for him to ask for me to quiet down.

Poor guy…ugh. I was disgusted with myself. I felt I needed to end my “session” right there, and

I was mentally preparing a nice apology text to send him. There was no way in hell I'd bring this up in person to Harry the following day. Surely I’d be in tears before I could even form the right words. I didn’t even want to imagine the scenario of Harry, himself, mentioning it to my face. Every possible, horrible consequence of my selfishly lewd deeds played out in my mind. There I was, lying there with my knees bent up and spread wide open—my fingers frozen against where I'm most sensitive. The silence made the throbbing in my clit feel even more desperate.

And then Harry flicked his white-noise machine on.

Oh, God…This was so embarrassing.

I wanted to sink into a black hole and never be seen, nor heard, ever again. The severity of the situation felt devastating to me. Was I truly so grotesque that the beautiful man I lived with had to tune me out with the highest setting of his old, rattly sleep machine?!

Hell, I was more than embarrassed, I was fucking humiliated. For real, this time. And it was all my fault.

I just wanted to disappear.

But just as I was readying myself to book a flight back home to move back in with my parents to spare myself from ever having to look Harry in the eye again…

I heard it.

I heard him.

“…Mmmhh…”

Beyond the hum of the wimpy white noise, there was a raspy moan on the other side of the wall. I thought I was just imagining it, or that maybe it was Harry quietly retching in disgust, but then it happened again.

No, yeah. It was definitely a moan.

I held my breath as I focused upon the sound of an abrupt curse followed by the distinctive sound of spitting.

“...Ahhh, fuck—”

*ptuh*

The grunting and other lewd noises continued. I could only imagine Harry’s tightened fist, wet from his own drool, working diligently at his neglected cock.

“...Mm…h-hm…ugghhh…”

It seemed like Harry's white-noise machine had some impressive competition. My lips curved into a smirk and my embarrassment exponentially subsided.

His growls vibrated right through the layers of paint and drywall—sliding their way under my shirt, swirling around my perked nipples before bolting straight down to my fingertips, coaxing them to push deeper into my heat. Squeezing my thighs together and arching my back, I curled those digits and gasped out audibly. Feminine arousal leaked from my center and down the crease where my ass met my thighs. Everything was so slippery. I’d made a mess of myself within seconds. Not to mention, the pornographic squelch of my fingers echoed shamelessly beyond the slick walls of my cunt.

If Harry’s spit-covered palm was loud enough to hear over the white noise, then I knew the splashy reservoir between my legs was audible too.

Another series of grunts and huffs sounded beyond the wall behind me and the white noise machine was switched off. I retracted my fingers and slid them up and down my slit, teasing myself and picturing Harry rubbing the head of his dick along my entrance. My brow pinched hedonistic agony. Oh, God, did I want him inside me…I needed something…anything…

With my less-saturated hand, I reached over to open my bedside drawer and lifted the lower compartment to retrieve the silk satchel that encased my dildo. My sticky-slick fingers fumbled impatiently with the ties until the toy comically launched out of the bag and bounced itself smack down onto the inside of my splayed thigh. I could just picture Harry laughing at my lack of grace even though he was busy with his own deeds next door. The thought of Harry teasing me about the dildo made me blush a bit, and I smiled to myself, imagining his hand reaching out to brush my hair out of my face, his pupils dilating as he’d sit on his knees next to the bed and lean over me until his lips grazed my ear…

Be a good girl and show me what filthy things you do with this, Bunny…Show me where it goes…Show me how you fuck yourself…

I hadn’t realized I’d done it again. I’d gotten lost in that depraved little world of mine, and I whimpered aloud in response to the Imaginary Harry who was speaking in my fantasy, “Y-you want me to fuck my pussy for you, Daddy?” Maybe it was the Imaginary Harry again, but I could’ve sworn that I heard a silky British voice nearby react, “Goddd…dammit, Bun’…Ugh, fuuuck, yes. Fuck that sweet little pussy f’me, baby, holy shit…”

Laying back down, I brought the silicone cock up to my lips and sucked it into my mouth. I slowly bobbed my head on it and soaked it with my saliva after deepthroating it several times. The sloppy blowjob I gave to my dildo seemed to have been loud enough to be heard by Harry next door, as he voiced out, “Oh my god, Y/N…I wanna fuck that pretty mouth.”

I pulled it away from my tongue, a string of drool dripping from the tip, and rubbed the head of the toy against my sensitive clit whilst I responded, bringing me right back to where I needed to be.

“Mmhh, but you can’t put a baby in me that way, Daddy.”

My own eyes widened and I gasped. I couldn’t believe I’d actually fucking said that.

“Shit! Ughh…Ahh…Ughhhh…Fuck you, Bunny…Almost made me…c-come…Christ—Ohhh, fuck me…”

With my free hand, I sucked on my index finger and let my eyes flutter closed as I pulled it out from my lips, trailing it down my neck, all the way to my breasts. Groping myself as best as I could with the rest of my hand, I used my forefinger to tease my nipple whilst the dildo swirled and swiped around my slickened slit. My breathing picked up quickly. The dildo had eventually disappeared inside my clenching hole. The only audible sounds I remember hearing were those of my own—my high-pitched gasps, the pornographic swishing and squelching of the dildo fucking my drenched cunt, the wet flicking noises of my fingers moving rapidly against my clit…I don’t even remember how loud Harry was at that point, I was too focused on my fantasy—my fantasy with him—to notice. I was so focused, in fact, that I had once again lost all sense of self-control and consciousness, succumbing to whatever had come naturally to me at the time and practically singing out my song of ecstasy for the whole goddamn neighborhood.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod…Harry, please. I need your cum…Oh, god, please come inside me. Fuck all your cum d-dee–oh g…–ah! Yes! Yes! Don’t stop!”

As I begged for my climax, Harry seemed to have been on the edge of his orgasm as well.

“Jesus Christ, you’re gonna kill me, Y/N…You want me to fill you up? Be my little breeding bunny? God…You dirty girl…Fuuuck…oh fuck, I’m gonna come…”

“Yes! Yes, Daddy! I can take it! Please! Yes, yes, yes, yes! Aaahhh!”

I unraveled with a squeak followed by a series of breathless sobs, my hands, wrists, and arms working frantically and my eyes rolled back whilst the kaleidoscope of pleasure poured through my body. Immediately after my explosion, I collapsed like a ragdoll with the dildo slowly pushing out of me, and my fingers slipping around on my clit to prolong my high. As my breathing recovered, I listened to the tail-end of the orgasm taking place from Harry’s side of the wall.

“Holy shit…Fucking take all of it f’me, babe—ohhhh, yeah…uhh-uuggh…mmhh…hm…Damnit…’So much…I wish all this was inside you, Bunny…fucking hell…”

I’d slept like a rock once I finally passed out. I wasn’t even worried about what would come the next morning. Nah, I had the upper hand on this one for once. As a bratty submissive, I’d gotten used to being teased and controlled. What an interesting feeling to exist on the other side. God, it felt fucking fantastic. Unfortunately for Harry, he wasn’t as confident…or at least that was what I’d been able to interpret in the days following. Nights after the first one, I’d carry on fucking my cunt until I was physically too exhausted to move my pretty little hands anymore. I swear I’d heard Harry finish at least thrice in one night once. (Impressive, Styles.) As for myself…well, I usually lost count.

That first morning, I awoke with sore arms, a rogue dildo laying on the floor, my limbs tangled inside my sheets, yet a ridiculous smile was perma-glued onto my sleepy, orgasm-spent face. I tried my best to tone it down, as I didn’t want to prance around the house like I’d just risen from a deep sleep induced by a gazillion-and-one pulsating firecrackers of pleasure. Too obvious, you know? Had to act nonchalant. Unbothered.

Who was I kidding—I was the most chalant person I knew. Harry would see right through that charade. But there honestly wasn’t much need for pretending on my part since Harry had actively avoided any and all eye contact with me anyway. I’d never seen the man be so meek. It was truly a sight.

Things would eventually loosen up as the days progressed, especially if it was a work day which meant Harry had an excuse to be miles away from me for several hours. It was somewhat of a bummer because I thoroughly enjoyed this sampling of power I newly held over the man. I reveled in the way our typical roles would reverse the mornings after our little bedtime serenades. They weren’t a nightly occurrence, as I preferred to keep him on his toes; however, they’d happen often enough that I tended to daydream in the middle of my work meetings. I’d even begun to retreat to my bedroom an hour or so earlier in the evenings, giving Harry some lame excuse like tiredness or a headache. In reality, it was me signaling that I needed to get myself off sooner rather than later. Whenever I’d announce my departure, I could feel how much he’d been aching for it all day, too. Harry eventually utilized the same approach to speed up the fulfillment of his own needs. I’d changed up my tempo, my method of pleasure, the filth of my words, even my own positions whilst touching myself. It seemed like it had become almost like a routine for him to wait for me to fall into bed late in the evening. (Yet another one for me to be distracted by…)

Nothing’s changed. I still imagine that he patiently lays atop his soft duvet with an anxious throb booming against his eardrums…That minutes will go by with him training his ear to follow each soft pad of my feet. And then I shut my door. I waste no time before diving my pretty fingers inside the waistband of my underwear and playing with my sensitive little petal—allowing all the filth to freely escape my lips. And every single time we do this, I’m in my room picturing him naked from the waist down, one hand eagerly pumping his dripping length whilst the other massages his balls and perineum. To this day, the waves of simultaneous pleasure are still trapped only by the few measly layers of drywall that stand in between us.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I know, I know…it’s been a while…but I’m back:-) and this isn’t the end of Harry’s Home—the final part is basically finished, but I wanted to post this chunk of it since I’d been kind of neglecting my account for months now. I hope y’all like it! Xoxo ~ Régan 💋

Tags: @daphnesutton @victoria-styles @pishhhh20989 @heyyyloverr @youdontcaredoyou @jerseygirlinca

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in-present · 2 days

Text

#midna #pregnant #dark fantasy #BdoubleO100 #rawring 20s #ebonyass #gay bears #personal #full house #setlock #education #vegetables #harry styles fanfiction #guillermo del toro #sheldon cooper

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0nlythrowharrybeaux · 2 years

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Unavailable**

Y/N has a very specific preference for unavailable/inappropriate people and Harry is her therapist who is supposed to help her work through this.

WC: 12.8K

WARNINGS: 18+ (I beg of you minors, DNI), DARK HARRY, therapist x client, inappropriate relationships, attraction to unavailable people, manipulation, aggressive sexual advances (dubccon kink), pain kink, degradation.

Tagged: @victoria-styles @gurugirl @janelikemaryyy

Y/N wasn’t sure why…but she had a streak. A pattern if you will for going after unavailable men. Something about being noticed by someone who was supposedly so committed to another, it was gratifying to watch their eyes lust over at the sight of her. But then on the other side of that she was constantly riddled with guilt over her trysts. Y/N was only 19 the first time she gave into to her temptation; that was also when her mother discovered Y/N’s inappropriate preference in romantic partners because Y/N’s co-worker’s girlfriend showed up at their house one night in hysterics because her boyfriend admitted to her that he’d been hooking up with Y/N. She went off and rightfully so, Y/N had burning red cheeks and a bloody nose to show for her mistakes. She didn’t fight back because she deserved it.

After that, her mom kept a close eye on her. But obviously, the things she did were done in private. Her latest lover was her mom’s best friend’s husband, Christopher. Christopher was a lawyer, he was in his early 50’s, and he was the kind of man that she grew up calling “uncle”, always was fun and caring, kind, and protective of her. She wasn’t sure what flipped the switch for her to notice and want him, but she got involved with him because she could and it made her feel good about herself, or at least that’s what she would tell herself in the heat of the moment.

She remembers the first time they hooked up. He had been so hesitant and declining her flirtations when she pushed him back into the bathroom after he’d just stepped out if it. He was so nervous, but she sweet-talked him as her hand trailed down his body and groped at his cock until he was hard as a rock. Chris soon found that he couldn’t resist a 22-year old girl who was just desperate and eager to make him come. And after that they started seeing each other and they’d been hooking up for nearly four months, that was the longest she’d ever actually been with someone. Her conquests were not typically long term and few and far between - five actually, she’d only slept with five guys since she was 19. Either way, when Y/N’s mom caught them fucking in his car she dragged Y/N out by her hair, gave her a few slaps and told Chris that if he ever laid eyes on Y/N again that she would tell Candice - her best friend, his wife.

Y/N’s mom didn’t understand what was wrong with Y/N and the next morning she told her that if she wanted to remain a part of their family that she needed to get help. Y/N agreed, thinking that maybe she could see a therapist or something to figure out why she had this inherent need to seek out unavailable people, but then Y/N’s mom pulled out a packet of printed pages and told her that she was going to an in-patient facility for addicts. She was convinced that Y/N was a sex addict and probably a drug addict because “no normal, respectable person behaves the way you do” and a week later she had been shipped off.

That’s how she had ended up at New Beginnings: In-Patient Treatment Center. And much to her pleasure, how she ended up in front of the hottest man she had ever seen. Sure, she didn’t know if he was single or taken, but the fact that this man standing before her was her therapist made him a temptation. What could be more dangerous than seducing your therapist? It was wrong and inappropriate and that made in unavailable enough to pique her interest.

“Y/N, right?” He smiled at her calmly and she nodded, “Come in, take a seat, anywhere you’d like.” He greeted before closing his office door, he was British. Fun.The decor in his office was homey and inviting, she opted for sitting on the couch so that she could bring her legs up and lay one of the many throw pillows on it into her lap. He then proceeded to sit across from her and took her in for a moment before introducing himself. “I’m Dr. Harry Styles. You can call me Harry or Dr. Styles, whatever you feel most comfortable with.” He said and she glanced up at him, mesmerized by his pretty green eyes and his kind smile was comforting. How could someone be hot and adorable at the same time? It baffled her.

“Hi.” She said.

“Hi, again.” He responded with a smile before looking down at the chart he had in his hands, “I will begin by stating that I’m the therapist assigned to you during your stay at New Beginnings. Of course if we have… irreconcilable differences,” he grinned, “I have no problem referring you to another clinician if that’s what you choose. I have over 10 years of experience in the mental health field, four years specifically treating addictions…” he then went on to talk to her about all of the ethical duties, confidentiality policies, and whatnot. She just nodded along when he’d ask if she understood, which she fully did, “So now that we’ve got that out of a the way, tell me a little bit about yourself.”

“Ummm… I’m 22. I…like dogs?” She shrugged awkwardly, “And music? I ummm… I don’t know, what do you want to know?” She sniggered uncomfortably and his neutral expression didn’t change when her eyes met his.

“What’s your favorite dog breed?” He asked and she smiled at that. Choosing to start somewhere comfortable for her.

“I have a top 3 actually, in no particular order-” she said looking at him to make sure he understood that, “Dachshunds, Borzois, and Scottish terriers.” She said and he smiled.

“I like dachshunds and scotties, what’s a borzoi?” He asked with a confused smile and she reciprocated the friendly gesture.

“Those dogs with ridiculously long snouts, look a little like the squirrel from Ice Age?” She said and he chuckled.

“Oh! Those guys, yeah I can see the appeal.” He said and she nodded with a smile, “Apart from your distinguished taste in dog breeds,” he said and she rolled her eyes playfully, “What more is there to you?”

“Ummm, like what?”

“Like, how would you describe yourself?” He asked and she shrugged before looking down at her fingers that scratched at the pillow in her lap, “Throw out a few words for me.” He encouraged. Well, when he said it like that she would definitely cooperate.

“Ummm…Independent. Smart. Tenacious. Incorrigible, or so I’ve been told.” She smiled to herself before looking up at him and he grinned as well before his smile dropped and he looked deep into her eyes, almost as if he was trying to figure her out just through the eye contact they held. It made her nervous so she looked away. She wasn’t easily intimidated by people, but he did the trick.

“And why are you here, Y/N?” He asked her more seriously.

“Well, it was on my schedule for today so…”

“Don’t be a smart ass with me.” He said and she looked up at him right away, the serious look on his face morphed into a smirk and she scoffed, annoyed that she fell for his trick, “So tell me, honestly, why do you think you’re here, Y/N?”

“I don’t know.” She said honestly with a shrug.

“So you being admitted here has nothing to do with your sex addiction then?” He asked and she laughed softly and shook her head. Here we go.

“I’m not a sex addict.” She said with a sigh, her eyes not daring to meet his and he glanced down at his file of her.

“That’s what your file says as the reason that you were admitted.” He challenged her.

“My file probably also says that my family believes I have a drug addiction but they made me pee in a cup and drew my blood yesterday when I got here and you’ll find that I’m perfectly clean so whatever is in that file is bullshit.” She said defensively, finally looking in his eyes with irritation and he sighed.

“I’m going to ask you some questions, they may be uncomfortable but I will need you to answer as honestly and accurately as possible.” He said and she frowned. Just as she was starting to like him…

“You don’t believe me?” She asked with creased in brows and a frown on her face.

“It’s not a matter of what I believe, Y/N. It’s a matter of confirming the diagnosis so that I know how to treat you from this point forward.” He explained, “It’s nothing personal, we just need to get through this bit today, alright?” He asked and she sighed.

“Fine.” Y/N huffed.

He then proceeded to ask her questions about her thoughts about sex, her behaviors, how often and how many times she masturbated in a day, in a week. How many people she had slept with and how often she had sex or engaged in sexual behaviors with a partner. Did she feel that her sexual impulses were too great for her to control. Did she only seek sex for orgasm/physical pleasure or did she also enjoy intimacy with partners. Had she ever gone out of her way or done something risky and extreme just to have sex or to obtain sexual gratification. How did she feel before and after she had sex. Did she feel that her sexual impulses, preferences, and behaviors were normal. She wasn’t sure what to make of her responses because the whole time his brows were knitted together as he nodded at her response before writing it down in his fucking notebook. He then asked her similar questions but having to do with drugs. These questions went on for about 15 minutes after he wrote the last thing down in the notebook she sighed.

“So what’s the diagnosis, doc?” She asked, feeling a bit nervous to hear his response. Maybe she was a perverted freak and this whole time she thought she was normal. It made her feel nervous and insecure as he glanced up at her from his notebook.

“Well you’re certainly not a drug addict.” He said and she rolled her eyes, of course not, “But the sex addict part, that’s also not a real psychological disorder, by the way. We would categorize it under an impulse control type of disorder or behavioral. But just from what I’ve heard now, I think it’s worth taking a little bit of a deeper look at. I’m not saying that you have these sexual impulse control issues, but there are somethings that I would like to unpack before labeling your sexual behaviors as deviant.” He explained thoroughly.

“Deviant?” She frowned, feeling completely disgusted with herself the second he said the word. Harry saw the way she completely deflated and recoiled once he said that.

“Deviant is just the psychological term we use to describe anything other than baseline or “normal”,” he signaled with air quotations, “There’s like an unspoken principle in psychology that we call the 4 D’s, they’re the things we look at to assess whether psychological intervention is necessary. They’re deviance, distress, dysfunction, and danger. Typically, if we assess that the behavior of concern breaches into any of these categories we would then recommend getting professional help.” He explained and that disarmed her a bit, he watched the tension slightly leave her frame, “That’s what a lot of the questions I asked you help me figure out. I know that, that was intense and intrusive, so I apologize if you feel uncomfortable or-”

“It’s cool, thank you for explaining. And I mean, I don’t mind talking about sex.” She said just to reassure him that she was OK, she had just never been asked for so much detail before. When he quickly jotted that down in his notebook she felt a tidal wave of insecurity drown her all over again. After a moment of silence as he finished writing he cleared his throat.

“Y/N, I’d like to see you three times a week to start and have you attend two groups a week.” He informed her. “I will look over your schedule and find some free times and add our appointments to your schedule. Do you prefer mornings or evenings?” He asked.

“Evenings. You won’t get much more than an attitude from me in the mornings.” She huffed out a little chuckle and he grinned, the tension breaking.

“I’m sure I can help you work on that.” He said with a chuckle and she smiled. He wasn’t so bad, but also, the therapy hadn’t really started yet, so maybe she’d grow to hate him. Or maybe she’d end up liking him, he didn’t seem so bad. And maybe, just maybe, he’d end up liking her too. “Well, that’s it for today. You’re free to go.” He smiled up at her and she nodded and got off the couch and left his office.

************

Y/N had been a challenge for Harry to say the least. She was charismatic and talkative up until he’d get into the nitty-gritty stuff in session. Suddenly it was like she forgot how to speak and she would just shut down. The first time it happened Harry informed her that he didn’t mind silence, he could sit there in the silence for the remainder of their session if she so chose. They practically did that first time up until the last ten minutes of the session when she then asked him a question. He was surprised by her resolve. Sure, the whole time she didn’t make any eye contact with him, but she was a headstrong little thing. She had described herself as tenacious if he recalled correctly.

After that first week he decided that he needed to change his approach, he needed to regain control of the relationship. Going into that second week he adopted a more professional and direct approach to her and then the insecurities started bleeding through. The moment he no longer seemed approachable and friendly she became more cooperative. She had an innate tendency to be in good favor with him, and he was sure with others too. He wasn’t cold or mean, but he cut out the filler chit-chat he normally engaged in with his patients. His extent of “ice-breaking” was asking how her day had been and then he’d jump into the session.

He could see by their third session that week that his change to their interactions was causing her distress. Distress wasn’t always a bad thing, but as a psychologist it’s within the code of ethics that they should not cause harm to a patient, whether that be physical, psychological, or emotional harm, it could ruin a person. So he needed to tread carefully with this. During their third and final appointment during that second week he added in a little bit more of a personal touch; after she confirmed that she had a good day he asked her what about it made it good and he watched her light up at the tiniest morsel of extra attention he gave her and she was even more cooperative this time around. She finally talked about her home life when he asked.

“So you would say that you and your mother don’t get along?”

“It’s not that we don’t get along…” she sighed, “I don’t think she gets me. All my life I was this perfect little princess up until I-” she stopped herself and his eyebrows creased, “until suddenly I wasn’t and she just… never trusted me again. She just saw me as someone disappointing and dirty.” She frowned.

“Does that have to do with why you were admitted here?” He asked and she swallowed hard but nodded shamefully, “It’s something to do with why she believes you have a sex addiction.”

“Yes.” She confirmed.

“Do you want to tell me what it is?” He asked and she sighed. She felt conflicted because on one hand if she admitted this and was able to stop carrying around the weight of the guilt on her chest it could feel great. But what if her admitting what she had done made him all weird and distant again? She didn’t like feeling like she had done something to make him upset at her.

“I…I want to but I can’t.” She accepted, eyes training on a little out of place string at the edge of the pillow in her lap. She started picking at it to distract herself from the discomfort she felt in the moment.

“Why not?”

“Because people clearly don’t react well to this so I… would rather not.” She huffed, irritated that the little string was not blending with the seam of the pillow and she pulled at it.

“But that’s my job, isn’t it? To hear you out and help with what you’ve got going on?” She continued pulling and then frowned when she realized that, that one little string was what had been holding the pillow together and she watched in horror as it split open and she immediately looked up to Harry.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” She said lowly and Harry watched her become so small at this little mistake. Like she was waiting for him to blow up on her and chew her up and spit her out. She was genuinely afraid and it completely broke the act he had put up for her that whole week.

“It’s OK.” He assured her.

“It’s not OK, I completely destroyed your pillow. I-I can see if someone has a sowing kit that I can borrow or-”

“A sowing kit in an in-patient psychiatric facility? Good luck.” He chuckled and she bit on her lip as her worry faded into a smile at his little joke. “I promise you, it’s alright. I didn’t really like that pillow anyway. Just got it because it went with the color scheme.” He reassured her and she nodded, still a bit unsure. “Now, if you’re not ready to talk about what happened to land you in here can you at least tell me why are you hesitant to share that with me?” He asked and she breathed out before she started picking at the sides of her thumbs, a nervous habit he had observed she had.

“I’m nervous.”

“About?”

“About making you angry.” She said and swallowed the lump forming in her throat, “If I tell you what happened I’m scared that you’ll confirm that I’m some sex deviant or freak and that you’ll treat me differently. That you won’t want to work with me anymore, that you’ll be disgusted and not want anything to do with me like everyone else.” She explained with a frown, avoiding his eyes. There was a fuck ton of shame and anxiety weighing her down in this moment, it was tangible in the air right now. He wanted to make that go away, he wanted to make her feel safe with him, give her confidence that he wasn’t going to abandon her - it was his job to do that.

“Hey, Y/N-” he said.

“Hmmm?” She asked and he frowned as she looked back down at the pillow she had destroyed.

“Look at me, Y/N.” He encouraged and after a few seconds her eyes flickered up to his, “I would never judge you or abandon you over a mistake you’ve made. I’m here to help you and being a prick about anything you tell me doesn’t help you. Now, I will be honest with you and call you out on your shit. But if you feel that I’m making it personal or attacking you in some way you can also call me out on it. We’re a team, you and I, we’re here working together to help you heal. And I can’t help you or give you the tools you need to heal if you can’t be honest with me.” He explained. As he told her this she felt that her attraction towards him morphed from just a physical one to a deeper one. This wasn’t good. “If you’re not ready to share it yet, that’s OK. But I just need you to know that at some point we’ll need to cross that bridge.” He explained and she bit her lip nervously and nodded in understanding, a tense silence taking over them as she thought about what he’d just said to her. She looked away from him again and he could see the cogs in her mind turning. Time was almost up, he briefly glanced to the clock behind her, it actually was up. He was about to tell her that they could pick up on this during their next session when she just…

“My mom found out that I was fucking my uncle.” She said suddenly and he was frozen, not expecting her to just come out with that then and there, “Well, he’s not actually my uncle, he’s my mom’s best friend’s husband, just a family friend that we just call uncle because he’s always been around. I would never actually fuck-“ she paused, looking concerned at his silence, “I’m not into my family in a sexual way, OK?” She clarified through a ramble and he nodded as her eyes met his, clearly terrified at how she phrased what she’d just admitted, “But I…I tend to only pursue unavailable or inappropriate men. Somehow this preference translated as a sex addiction to my mom. I just… like what I can’t have I suppose.” She said a bit sadly and he wasn’t sure what to say.

He couldn’t really unpack this with her now, time was up and he needed to get home. On the other hand, she was his last patient of the day and he could go over a bit, but this needed more time than just ten minutes over their time, he really needed to sit down and unpack this with her. He was processing, deciding what he should say.

“Are you angry at me?” She asked nervously and his eyes met hers again, she looked so afraid and ready for him to confirm what she feared most and his eyes softened as he continued looking at her.

“No Y/N, I’m not angry with you.” He said tenderly and she bit her lip nervously, “Thank you for telling me and for trusting me with that.” He continued and she nodded, “I ummm, I was actually about to tell you that our time was up before you dropped that bomb.” He smiled and she chuckled and brought her hands up to her face as she chuckled nervously into them, shielding her face in embarrassment.

“Oh god. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know we were at the end of our time.” She said, sounding a bit muffled as her hands obstructed her face.

“it’s alright.” He chuckled, “It’s a bit past 8:30, so we can’t possibly unpack all of this now it’s a bit late.”

“No, yeah. We can talk about it next week.” She reassured him and he shook his head.

“No, we’re definitely going to meet tomorrow. I’ll let Betsy know on my way out that we’ll need to meet tomorrow at our regular time.” He said and she nodded, “But I’m glad we ended on this note, it gives you tonight to really process how it feels to have shared this with me. And well, I’ll also take advantage of the time to do my own processing. You’ve given me a lot to think about.” He said, his eye contact with her not wavering and he watched as her lips eventually turned up in a smirk, “Not like that.” He warned through a nervous chuckle and shook his head as his cheeks started staining pink, “Jesus, Y/N. Be a little serious yeah?” He grinned and she rolled her eyes playfully.

“Yeah, alright. M’sorry.” She hummed half-heartedly.

“No you’re not.” He mumbled lowly with a timid smile as he scribbled something down in his notebook. She looked at his pretty and warm smile and then down at his big, veiny hand as he gripped his pen dragging it across the page as he jotted down whatever thought was on his mind. He was absolutely and undeniably breathtaking. Time felt as if it stood still as she watched him; her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, a physical expression of her intent to refrain herself from letting her mind go to where it wanted to go so desperately. After what was actually just a few seconds he closed his notebook and then looked back up at her. His eyes immediately fell on her mouth, noticing just how hard she was biting her lip and he cleared his throat, effectively snapping her out of her inner battle.

“Well, again thank you for opening up to me. I’m sorry that we aren’t able to go through all this now and I hope you don’t feel regretful about it, but if you start to feel bad about telling me what you did and it gets to be distressing just let one of the nurses know, OK? They can call me and we can talk on the phone or if necessary, I can come in and talk you down if things get scary or overwhelming, OK?”

“Yeah, OK. Thank you, Harry.” He responded and he nodded with a smile.

“Perfect, you’re all good to go. I’ll uh- I’ll see you tomorrow, OK?” She nodded and stood from the couch and quietly made her way out.

As soon as his office door shut after her he exhaled a shaky breath. Harry felt nervous about this. Just the way she had looked at him just now. The way that she had reacted when he had pulled away from her a bit this past week… initially he thought that maybe she just really needed validation from others or attention, but after what she’d just disclosed to him he was starting to think that maybe she was attracted to him. He wasn’t trying to flatter himself or anything like that, he knew that he was attractive and had good and desirable qualities, but as he looked back at their interactions and as the pieces of the puzzle that were Y/N started falling into place he couldn’t help but feel slight concern.

Y/N was beautiful, she was smart, as she had described herself, and she was charismatic, and nice. But considering what she had just shared with him he knew that part of her had to be alluring and cunning; how else does one get a committed person to stray from their partner? There was a nagging feeling deep inside of him that beckoned him to just talk to one of his fellow clinicians about this, to get some insight about how he should go about this with her. But it worried him that they might tell him that the ethical thing to do would be to cede her case to someone else. There were a of couple reasons for why he wouldn’t want to give up her case. Not only had he promised her that he wouldn’t abandon her, but he had put in great thought and work into building rapport with her and gaining her trust. He silenced that nagging little voice in his head and decided that he could do this. He was more than capable of helping her on his own.

***********

Y/N was extremely proud of herself. After the time she told Harry what her real issue was he was so gracious about it and every part of her was screaming, begging for her to make a move on him and she resisted. Also, he could probably see it coming from a mile away, she was sure of it, because whenever she could say something a little suggestive or talk about things in a certain way he tended to just smirk down at his notebook as he jotted things down. Things got really tempting on a few occasions when she saw that he had checked her out, but still she resisted. She had been at this facility for a month and boy, had she actually enjoyed it. Harry had helped her untangle the very twisted web that she was. He helped her understand why she was stuck in the pattern she had been in for so long. Most of it had to do with her upbringing, her view of herself, and her self worth. She would be leaving the following day and it was her last session with Harry. She was going to miss him, genuinely, and as she sat before him for the final time she felt a little sad. He had just notified her that he would be giving her some referrals for a clinician before she left the following day and then he got right down to it.

“So, it’s your last day. How are you feeling?” He asked her, trying not to dwell on the fact that he was upset that this was her last day in the facility. He would probably never see her again and it made him feel…sad.

“I’m excited to get to shower with a curtain and be able to open a window.” She said and he chuckled, “But it’s bittersweet.” She admitted and then looked around his office, she felt safe with him. She liked that he was the last person she got to see during her days here. Her eyes then fixated on the single lamp on his desk giving the space a warm and inviting glow. The same kind of glow he seemed to emanate on his own.

“Why bittersweet?” He asked her, crossing his arms pensively. She then realized that he didn’t have a notebook on his lap today. Harry was waiting for her response but he was hoping that she’d say something along the lines of missing him. Truth was, that in this past month with Y/N he started to understand why these men she set her sight on gave in to her seductions. He thought that she would cave at some point, even flirted a bit at times hoping that she’d be pushed to make a move on him, one that he had mentally decided he’d take advantage of if it came, but it never did. She excited him, kept him on his toes. And as he watched her lick over her plush and pretty lips before speaking he felt jealous of whoever she would soon find to kiss and lick over her lips. He never got his chance.

“Well I have made some friends here that I’m not entirely sure I’ll be able to keep in touch with.” She explained, “I know at first I was resistant and a pain in the ass, but the staff have all been great as well…” she said and then sighed, “And well, I’m really going to miss seeing you too, Harry.” She finally said it and he smiled, he tried not to look excited as she said this.

“What do you think you’ll miss most?” He asked, “About me.” He then clarified and she smiled, “I’m not fishing for compliments, by the way.” He grinned and she giggled. He most definitely was fishing for compliments.

“I’m going to miss talking to you for sure. I know that we’re not supposed to be friends with our therapists or whatever,” she said with a roll of her eyes, “But if I’ve ever had a best friend in my life it would be you, I think.” She explained, “I like how you make me feel about myself. And how you helped me see myself. I understand myself more because of you. And I’m sure you already know this Harry, but you’re smart and kind and not intrusive even when you’re asking me awkward questions like how many times I masturbate in a week.” She said with grin and he chuckled.

“That was one time.” He interrupted with a smirk and she giggled.

“Yeah, but I don’t think I’ve ever been asked that or will ever be asked that again, so it was memorable.” She stated and he chuckled.

“Yeah, it certainly was. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that some people masturbate almost every single day.” He said in a teasing tone and she scoffed.

“OK, like you don’t?” She said with an incredulous look and then caught herself and shook her head, “Sorry, what I was trying to infer is that guys get themselves off far more frequently than girls do. I wasn’t like thinking about you jerking off!” She said quickly and he smirked, his eyes not leaving hers, “Or at least I wasn’t.” She stated shaking her head and laughed awkwardly, “Sorry. Anyway…” she said looking down at her lap, avoiding eye contact with him because of her fumble and Harry bit his lip as he watched her nerves consume her. Everything about her body language indicated to him that she was into him and it was a real temptation.

“I do. By the way.” He added in after a moment of silence took over and she looked into his eyes.

“Do what?” Y/N asked suddenly a bit confused.

“Get myself off everyday. Or almost everyday.” He admitted nonchalantly and she felt her insides start to fire up at his confession, “At least once. I’ve got a really high sex drive.” He disclosed and she bit on her lip, her eyes darkening a bit as her mind started going places it shouldn’t and she swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Yet you’re not committed here.” She joked to try and dissipate the tension brewing between them and Harry smirked at her comment. Maybe this was a test of some sort? If it was about mental strength then she’d failed, she had already pictured him stroking his cock and squirting his cum all over her face. But physically, she wouldn’t give in. She could fantasize all she wanted, but she was not going to bend her will, so she looked away from him.

“Are you nervous?” He asked her and Y/N nodded, still not looking back in his eyes.

“Yeah, of course. What if I fuck up the second I’m out of here? Like if Chris wants to talk one-on-one and I completely throw out everything we’ve worked on together.” She shook her head with a frown and then finally looked back at him for some sort of guidance and reassurance now that she had been vulnerable about her concerns with leaving. He didn’t want to think about her with another man the second she walked out of here, it made him jealous.

“I wasn’t referring to you being nervous when you leave. I wanted to know if you felt nervous here, with me.” He clarified and she swallowed thickly, but shook her head.

“Ummm…no, I wouldn’t say I feel nervous with you.” She stated and he licked over his lips as he took her in for a moment. It made her heart pound in a way that she hadn’t felt in a while now. Then he stood up and approached the couch she was occupying one side of. He then sat down on the other end of it, his eyes still locked on hers.

“What about now?” He asked and she shook her head. He then moved to middle seat, beside her, “And now?” He asked again, her heart was beating wildly. From here she could smell his cologne and see his handsome face up close. Her pupils dilated, her body’s way of communicating that she was excited and captivated by the man before her, it didn’t go unnoticed by him, nevertheless, she shook her head, “Be honest.” He challenged her and she exhaled shakily.

“Yeah, it makes me a little nervous.” She confessed. He hummed and reached his hand towards her and settled it at her waist as his face came in close to hers. So much so that the tips of their noses brushed and she could smell the fresh mint on his breath from the fucking gum he was always chewing.

“And now?” He asked and she bit down on her lip, her eyes focused on how close his body was to hers, “Hey, be a good girl and look me in the eyes when I’m talking to you.” He demanded and her entire body fluttered when he said that and she had to obey him, “Are you nervous now?” He asked again and she nodded, “Use you words.”

“Yes.” She breathed out.

“Why?” He asked her, leaning in closer so that their lips almost touched.

“Because this is…wrong. We’re not supposed to be doing something like this.” She said.

“Am I to believe that if I were to reach into your panties and feel over your pussy it wouldn’t be all hot and sticky for me?” He asked, his lips skimming against her own and she wasn’t sure what to say, “Answer me.” He demanded and she shook her head.

“I can’t do this. We can’t. We shouldn’t.” She said shakily.

“Obviously. But do you want to?” He asked her and she bit down on her lip to suppress her moan. She was turned on beyond belief, “What if I told you that I have a wife and kid waiting for me at home? Would you want to then?” He asked and she shook her head, “You’re a liar.” He stated and she was feeling conflicted and unsure about what was happening but it was so fucking hot, she wanted to know how far he was willing to take this.

“M’not lying.” She defended herself.

“Yeah, you are. I just know that if I told you that my wife neglected me you’d be halfway there. What would really get you there would be if I told you that from the moment I saw you I was just captivated by you. That I’ve never seen someone so fucking beautiful. That she doesn’t compare to you. That I would never cheat, but you’re the exception.” He said and she whimpered.

“Th-that’s not fair, Harry.” She said with a frown and he felt a little guilty for a moment. She was right, he was being a manipulative piece of shit, but he wanted her so fucking bad

“Yeah, you're right, Y/N. S’not fair, so I’ll be straight with you. I meant every word I said except I’m not married and I don’t have a kid. And I know that makes me…not your type, but let me tell you something. Who needs some used up old guy to make you feel good when you could have someone to keep up with your needy little cunt? Who can fuck you and make you cum whenever you want. Or maybe you just like being a dirty little secret, is that it?” He asked and she was panting now, suddenly feeling his other hand settling over her hand that was firmly planted on the couch.

“Harry-”

“That’s what you get off on, isn’t it? Being the side piece.” He said and she pouted, “Am I hurting your feelings?” He asked and she nodded, “I’m sorry, baby.” He cooed, “How should I make it up to you? Hmmm?” He asked her and then she realized he had pressed her hand against his erection, it was straining against his trousers, and she bit her lip and looked up into his eyes as he guided her hand over the outline of his cock. “You’re so fucking perfect, you know that?” He hummed, “Just thinking about you gets me all worked up, baby. Come so fucking hard when I think about holding you down and fucking your face until you’re choking for air.” He said and she moaned.

“You really think about doing that to me?” She asked and he’d done it, her resolve had crumbled.

“That and so much more.” He hummed.

“What else?” She asked as she started reaching further between his legs to let her fingers graze over his balls and he moaned when she did.

“The last few weeks I’ve thought of just making my move and having my way with you. Your body language, the way you look at me, the things you say, it’s all been screaming at me that you want me to fuck you. I wouldn’t even bother with stretching you out for me or waiting to get you wet for me, just force my cock into you dry if I had to, just wanted to fuck you.” Her eyes closed and she moaned again, squeezing her thighs together to feel some relief from the now constant throb of the hot and sopping mess that was her pussy.

“Please,” She panted, “do something, anything, just want to make you come.” She whimpered and his brows furrowed as he heard that.

“You want to make me come, baby?” She nodded, “And what about you, huh?” He asked her and he watched her eyes, almost tearing with desperation.

“Who cares? I just want to be good for you and make you come. As many times as you want, wherever you want. Just wanna make you feel good.” She keened and he wasted no time in pressing his lips to hers in a deep and needy kiss. After a moment he pulled back from her.

“I don’t know who the hell you’ve been with but in my book good girls get to come as many times as they want. And you, Y/N, are such a good girl.” He spoke before kissing her again, “You were so good before, saying no, rejecting my advances. You’re right, I didn’t play fair in the end there, but life’s not fair, baby. Next time you know that you need to be ready to face your ultimate temptation and beat it.” He said and she nodded before he kissed her again, “I’m really proud of you though.” He praised her and it made her feel like she was walking on air.

“Thank you, Harry.” She responded and he hummed before kissing her again. This time it deepened even more as their tongues met desperately. Licking into each other, sucking, nibbling, biting…Y/N felt like she was on fire as his heavier body weighed hers down.

“What do you want, baby? Tell me and I’ll do it.” He said and she looked into his eyes.

“Please fuck me.” She said softly and he nodded and dipped down to kiss her a little more intentionally. Slower and deeper and it made her feel strange. The only time she’s ever been kissed this way was when she had her first kiss. It was foreign to her to feel a tender touch coming from a man. Especially as his hands smoothed under her shirt, caressing her sides cautiously before covering her breasts, kneading and squeezing before pinching at her nipples. She whined as he did it again, but harder.

“Fuck, again!” She begged and this time he pulled back and pulled off her shirt before dragging the cups of her bra down before taking one of her nipples in his mouth and sucking hard making her hiss. His hands slid behind her to unclasp her bra and he just tossed it somewhere to the side before squeezing her breasts hard and moving to the next one and sucking against her already hardened nipple. He pulled back and looked at her bare chest, nipples taut and sensitive from his harsh sucks and nibbles. She wasn’t expecting it when he brought his right hand up and slapped at her her breast making her hiss. Her eyes met his with a darkened look and he grinned before doing the same to the other one and then reaching down to pinch her nipples between his thumbs and index fingers and she let out a choked cry at the pain mixing with pleasure.

“Harder?” He asked and she looked into his eyes and nodded with her lip bitten hard beneath her teeth, “You sure?” She nodded again and he pinched with more force making her mouth fall open and he watched as her body became covered in goosebumps and after a few seconds he let go and she moaned as his warm palms came over her breasts and held them tightly, reliving the sharp stinging feeling she felt shooting to her sensitive little buds, “Fuck. Are you OK?” He asked softly and she nodded, “Use your words for me, baby. Want to hear your voice.”

“Yes. I’m OK.”

“You liked it, right?” He wanted to confirm; with her tendencies he didn’t want her doing things she didn’t like just because she thought it would please him. He wanted to make that clear to her.

“Yeah. I like a little pain.” She said and he hummed before smiling.

“I do too.” He assured and she bit her lip upon hearing him say this. Her eyes glanced down to the very evident bulge in his pants, there was already a faint little wet patch where the tip of his leaking cock was pressed against. She reached forward to skim her index finger along the outline of his cock, she saw it twitch in its confines as she tickled over the tip and then back down towards his balls.

“So if I were to…” she suddenly squeezed hard at his balls and he lunged forward with a hiss at the sting that shot through his body before his eyes rolled back and he moaned.

“Oh fuck, baby.” He grunted as she loosened her grip and gently rubbed over them.

“That’s OK?” She asked and he nodded at her. Truth be told he always liked to fuck hard because there was nothing like the jolt he felt from that little sting he’d get when his balls would swing up and smack harshly into whoever he was fucking. It was the cherry on top for him, especially if the person he was fucking wasn’t comfortable to giving him a little bite of pain with his pleasure. She smirked up at him.

“What’re you smirking at?”

“Nothing, you’re just as much of a kinky freak as I am.” She grinned and he hummed and leaned down to kiss her lips tenderly and just as she was losing herself in the kiss her bit down hard on her lip and she yelped before he pulled away with a grin.

“S’nothing wrong with being a little kinky.” He hummed and she smiled, “Now, how would you like me to fuck you, baby?” He asked and she melted internally at the way the words sounded and felt like thick, warm honey coming from his lips.

“Hard and rough. Please.”

“Fuck,” he breathed out with a smile, “You’re such a good girl with those manners.” He hummed, “Now, go on, baby. Get my cock out.” He said and she immediately moved her hands to his trousers, working at his belt and tugging it out before tossing it aside and popping open the button, looking up at his eyes as she blindly pulled down his zipper and tugged down to reveal his muscular and tattooed thighs, “Good girl. My briefs too though, baby.” She nodded and tugged them down his thighs as well.

Y/N literally felt her saliva start to pool beneath her tongue as his thick, heavy cock fell forward between their bodies, the dark pink, leaky tip lightly grazing at her stomach a few times as it bobbed up and down a few times before it was still.

“Holy shit.” She whispered, completely mesmerized by his penis and his lips twitched up to the side in a smug smirk.

She liked that his pubic hair was there and well maintained. She let her eyes wander up to the laurels he had tattooed right above where his hair grew thicker. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed nervously, but she found that her mouth had again produced an ungodly amount of saliva, so instead she glanced up at him as she slightly parter her lips and then brought up her hand to spit some on it and he bit hard on his lip, nodding at her. She took this as the go-ahead to wrap her wet palm around his hot and hard cock. She dragged her fist up, letting out a small whimper as she watched his foreskin hide the tip of his cock for a moment, collecting his pre-cum, and then she stroked down and rubbed her thumb right under the head of his penis and then up and until she was rubbing against where he was leaking for her.

“Shit…” he huffed, watching her hand playing with his cock. It was better than he had imagined it would be. She looked up at him as her other hand went to his balls and squeezed gently at first and he moaned quietly. Then she added a bit more pressure and his brows knitted together as he frowned but still emitted a pleasured moan as she gently stroked his shaft, “Harder.” He groaned and a tingle of excitement shot through her body at his request as she added even more pressure to her grip around his balls and focused her strokes right over his tip. Harry’s eyes squeezed shut as he let out a strangled moan, “Fuck yeah.” He hissed as his eyes opened and met hers. They were dark and overcome with lust. Lust for her. She wanted him to come, she started stroking faster and kissed his lips quickly.

“Want them in my mouth.” She said and he nodded standing and rearing back, letting her get on her knees. The second his balls were within reach she opened up her mouth and sucked one into her mouth, knowing he didn’t mind some pain she sucked a bit harder, loving how his fingers raked into her hair and gripped it forcefully. She continued working her fist over his shaft quickly. As for her hand that was unoccupied, she ran her index finger under lips, lubricating it with the spit that was dripping out of her mouth. Without any warning she rubbed it against his asshole and he moaned, but relaxed himself so that she could press her finger past the tight ring of muscles. He was so tight and hot, and finally she felt the slightly raised bump inside and rubbed her finger into it. Harry felt his knees buckle as she rubbed into his prostate.

“Oh fuck, you’re gonna make me come!” He panted in a deep and gruff voice. His abs started tightening and his balls drawing up, slightly aching as she sucked at them just right. He was getting there so quickly, faster than he expected but this with her was far more pleasurable than he had dreamed. “Fuck, Y/N fuck!” He grunted as he started tipping over the edge, “Wanna come in your mouth, want you to taste my sperm, baby.” He panted, losing his resolve to hold out any longer as she moaned against him. She quickly brought her mouth over his tip and he starting bucking into her mouth shallowly. He glanced down to watch as half of his cock disappeared between her perfectly delicious lips.

The sight alone was more than enough to push him over the edge. Harry’s eyes clenched shut as the pleasure started to take over, his thrusts becoming inconsistent and sloppy as he burst in her mouth. He pulled her hair harder as her finger prodded hard into his prostate, effectively milking him for all he had to give her. He hissed as she started to suck around his tip, drawing as much of his cum out of his cock as possible. After a few seconds the sensitivity started to take over, but he didn’t want her to stop. He felt like his mind had completely spiraled and that he had shifted into a completely different plane of existence as she slowly started to slow down but not enough to interrupt the stimulation. His whole body was buzzing deliciously.

“Fuck baby, don’t stop. Don’t stop.” He found himself breathing out and she moaned around his cock, “Please don’t stop. Make me come again. Have so much more for you, baby girl.” He moaned. The truth was that Harry had been training himself for this exact situation. He was always training to last for ages, to come multiple times in short periods, to shorten his refractory period - he didn’t want to waste time when it came to sex. This is why the overstimulation he was feeling now was enough to keep him going. It was the perfect mix of pain and pleasure. His free hand was planted on the couch’s armrest, his arm was completely tense and his legs were quivering, barely holding him up as he felt himself just seconds away from his next orgasm. His breathing had hitched and the lack of proper oxygen intake from his shallow breathing made his throat and chest start to burn. And harder than the first one, this orgasm really did him in. He didn’t even have time to warn her, he just completely lost control as he bucked his cock desperately into her mouth, so much so that her hands instantly moved to grip the the backs of his thighs, nails digging into his skin with a delicious bite as he filled her mouth with his warm and generous load once again.

Y/N was struggling to breathe, he’d come so much this time, she could feel it and her spit leaking down her chin. Her throat was burning because she was so desperate for air, but the tip of his cock was forcing itself down the opening of her throat and despite her hands squeezing hard at his thighs, begging for him to draw back he wasn’t pulling back. It was making her eyes water and for her to start to feel a little lightheaded. Finally, after a few second he started drawing back and she took in a deep breath before coughing as she leaned her face against the tiger inked into his thigh.

“Shit…” He panted with a shaky voice as his fingers raked through her hair tenderly, “Sorry, didn’t-” he gulped down the air he was taking, “Didn’t even give you a warning, baby.” He apologized and she shook her head and smiled, her eyes still closed as she tried to catch her breath.

“It’s OK, that was so good.” She got out with a scratchy voice and he bit his lip. She was everything he’d ever wanted in a sexual partner, what a shame that he’d probably never see her after this. It just felt wrong to lose her, he didn’t want to think about it right now. Not as he felt her nuzzle closer to his thigh before kissing it gently. She then glanced up to him and he smiled down at her and she grinned before pushing herself to stand. She then glanced around and went to pick up her bra and shirt and he frowned.

“What’re you doing?”

“Getting dressed.” She smiled at him.

“We’re not done yet.” He said and she glanced down at his cock. It wasn’t soft, but it wasn’t hard either, she then looked up at his face again, “Gimme like five minutes, yeah?” He grinned as he walked over to his desk and took a drink from his water bottle and she narrowed her eyes.

“Five minutes?”

“I’ve been practicing a long time just in case I was ever in a situation like this.” He shrugged with a grin and she giggled. Harry stayed by his desk and toed off his shoes and then pulled off his socks before completely tearing off his pants and briefs. “Now, c’mere.” He hummed and she made her way over to his desk. He grabbed her face before kissing her slowly, but the way he was using his tongue and lips against hers were making her stomach flutter with butterflies. Suddenly he let her go to make space for her on his desk. She heard as a few things scraped against the surface of the wood while a few others fell to the ground. His hands landed on her ips and then slid back to grab at her ass. He lightly smacked at her a couple times before telling her to jump. He caught her and seated her on his desk, spreading her legs apart by her knees to settle in closer to her.

As they continued kissing Y/N turned her head away before letting her lips wander down his jaw and then his neck, sucking lightly but not enough to leave marks. Her nimble fingers started unfastening the buttons holding his shirt closed, fingers tickling at his skin every now and again and it made him smile as her lips kissed at every inch of newly exposed skin on his chest.

“Your tattoos are pretty.” She spoke absentmindedly before she sunk her teeth into his clavicle, making his hands dig into her thighs at the sting from the surprising action. As his pecs came into sight she felt even more dizzy. She kissed down his sternum, smiling at the tickles on her lips and the tip of her nose from the smattering of hair on his chest. She had finished unbuttoning his shirt and her hands slid up his tummy and over his pecs before she turned and bit down gently on one of his nipples. Just from that his cock started getting stiff again. She then did the same to the other, she smiled smugly against his warm and soft skin as she felt his grip tighten around her thighs. She pulled back to get a good look at him and smiled again upon seeing the butterfly tattooed right over his stomach, it was so pretty. Harry’s heart started thumping hard and his tummy fluttering with more than just anticipation and lust, as he watched her take in the tattoo inked into his stomach. The smile that spread on her face brought a warmth to him that he didn’t know he was missing until it came.

“Did it hurt?” She suddenly asked and he smiled and nodded.

“But as you know, I don’t really mind that.” He grinned and she sniggered as her finger traced the outline of it, making his abs flex with the slight tickles. He was a fucking masterpiece, “Do you have tattoos?” He asked and she shook her head.

“My mom thinks they’re vulgar, always said she’d kick me out if I got one.” She said and he hummed, “I do want one though. I’ll just get it when I’m out of there.” She hummed. She could now feel his fully hard penis against her thigh as her finger absentmindedly followed the dips of his abs and she smiled up at him, “Impressive.” He chuckled lowly.

“Told you. It also helps when you’re really into the person you’re with.” He added and she glanced down as she felt her face becoming hot at his compliment.

Harry smiled as he watched her break eye contact timidly and after a few moments he gripped her chin between his fingers and coaxed her to look back up at him. His eyes scanned over hers for a few seconds before he leaned down to connect their lips in a much slower and sultry kiss. Y/N was not really one to allow for tenderness to seep into her sexual encounters, but this kiss was something different. It made a warm feeling glaze over her heart and slowly spread through her entire body, like a thick syrup.

Their kiss started inching away from tender and towards the territory of hungry and desperate. His hands spread her legs for him and wrapped them around his hips. He pressed his body flush to hers and moaned into their kiss as his big, thick cock snuggled into the hot and sopping folds of her pussy, his tip nudged against her clit every now and again, making both of them shudder. He shifted his hips until he felt his tip catch against the dip of her entrance and he pushed forward but not hard enough to push past her opening. She was getting so desperate for him; hungry to feel him slowly push into her and spread her. She was just about to protest his teasing when out of nowhere he forcefully shoved his cock all the way into her without warning. His darkened eyes watched as her delicate features creased with what was evidently discomfort. Her lips turned down as a surprised groan spilled past them. She was fucking tight. Her cunt’s vice-like grip even caused some pain to his cock as he se settled deep into her. He didn’t give her time to adjust, she’d get used to it in just a bit. She winced as he dragged his cock out almost to the tip and then rammed back into her hard.

“Shit!” She whimpered feebly, fingers gripping hard into his biceps for some form of grounding and he groaned from deep in his chest as her clenching walls did the absolute most to try and get him to stop and give her a second to adjust, her body resisting his thrusts from the shock of it all, “It hurts a little, you’re too big!” She gasped and his lips met hers sloppily as he opted for grinding into her instead, trying to get his cock in deeper, as deep as he could get it.

“It’s alright, baby. It’ll start to feel good soon.” He promised her, his lips skimming and smearing against her own as he spoke. She wiggled her hips a bit and just then she gasped and curled into his body; her arms hugged around his back and squeezed him tight. Harry smirked as he started to pulse his hips, feeling her legs start to quiver as his cock stimulated her g-spot. “Fuuuuuck.” He moaned. It felt so good against the tip of his penis, so spongey and warm, the texture and ridges of her cunt were absolutely perfect for him and he started going a bit harder.

“Oh my god!” She gasped into his chest and he hummed in delight before he bit down hard on his lip as her nails raked down his back. Hard.

“Told you it’d feel good soon.” He hummed knowingly.

“Yeah. Fuck yeah!” She confirmed, “You’re fucking me so good!” She whimpered, “Harder, please. Fuck me harder!” She mewled.

Harry grunted loudly and pushed her further back on his desk until she was laying on her back and he climbed on the desk and kneeled, pulling her hips into him. He shoved his cock back into her pulsing and sore little hole and immediately started to pick up the pace and force of his thrusts. Her breath had suspended for a moment as he pounded away at her without mercy. All that could be heard for those few seconds were his labored breaths and the sound of his balls thwacking wetly against her ass. He pressed his hands to her inner thighs, spreading her even more open for him, allowing him to get closer to get in deeper, this is what made her gasp for air as a strangle moan left her throat. Harry watched with a nearly pained look as her little pussy took his entire cock, right up to his balls over and over and over again. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand as a delicious and familiar tingle shot through his whole body. He then lowered himself down, his nose skimming hers and his lips hovering right above hers as he continued his thrusts.

“Oh my god, you’re so good, Harry! So fucking good!” She praised through a moan, “I’m gonna come soon!”

“Would love to keep giving you my cock to get you there, but only good girls get to come.” He said and she pouted.

“So good for you!” She whimpered, her teary eyes met his own darkened and stern eyes.

“Are you really?” He asked and she nodded, “Don’t think so, Y/N.” He said and she frowned even more, her chest stirring with hurt and offense at his words. A total contrast to the warm and delicious feelings swirling and brewing in her tummy.

“I am good. I am.” She fought back, trying not to get too upset over this.

“No you’re not, Y/N.” He huffed, “You’re an insatiable, manipulative, little whore.” He said and the moment the words left his mouth she felt a tingle shoot up her spine. He felt her walls clench down hard around him as he said this and he hummed, “Is that being good?” He asked and she shook her head with a frowned and then he gave a really rough thrust and it completely opened her up for him so that he sunk deeper and his tip collided with her cervix. She gasped, body taught as a bow at the feeling of pain and pleasure blending beautifully and chaotically, making her brain feel like mush as the only thing she could feel now was him, “Holy fucking shit.” He grunted out and started pulsing his hips gently, his tip kissing her cervix with every movement, it had his toes curling. Y/N felt like she was going to combust, more so because with the way he was thrusting she was getting just enough contact against her clit and holding back her orgasm was getting harder. Hot tears started to streak down her face from the desperation

“Please, Harry! Please, let me come!” She sobbed and he grinned wickedly.

“No. You’re a selfish and disgusting home-wrecker.” He berated her, he didn’t stop because he felt her start to pulse around his cock at this, “And you like it, you can’t lie to be about that. Makes you feel good, huh? And special? As if that’s the only thing you’re good for.” He said and she frowned again “Don’t pout and feel sorry for yourself, baby. It’s the truth and if that’s who you’re gonna be you better fucking own it.” He said and she moaned, her back starting to arch. “Tell me what you are. Wanna hear you say it.” He egged her on.

“Harry-”

“Admit it and I’ll let you come.” He said and she whimpered and looked into his eyes.

“I’m…” she frowned, “I’m selfish and disgusting.” She confessed, “I’m a home-wrecker and I like it.” She confessed, “I do like how it makes me feel, it is what I’m good for.” She whimpered in a feeble voice and he groaned and shook his head, a little too fucked out to say anything else.

“Come for me, Y/N. Come for me so I can fill your little pussy with my cum.” He said and she gasped and started to tremble as a tidal wave of pleasure just took her out. He started pounding faster into her cunt and started to rub at her clit until she was moaning until he felt her cum gushing from her entrance, splashing against his tummy and thighs from the force of his thrusts, “Oh fuck, even have you squirting on my cock, baby. Fuck!” He mewled and after a few sloppy thrusts he was groaning as his orgasm almost felt like it punched him in the gut. He felt as his balls pulsed hard against her, pumping all of his cum into her needy little cunt.

“Oh my god!” She whispered as she hugged him tight, “Can feel you filling me up.” It made her feel some kind of way. She’d never fucked anyone bare, no one had ever actually came inside of her before and it was incredible.

“S’my little pussy now, isn’t it?” He asked her as he slightly pushed himself up to look at her face. She was all fucked out, mascara smeared, eyes heavy and skin blotchy, and looking like she wasn’t all there. Nevertheless she nodded at his question, “Filled you with my come so now you’re all mine.” He repeated and kissed her lips tenderly, completely opposite to the way in which he had just fucked her. Already, she could feel her inner thighs and pubic bone were sore from his aggressive maneuvers, she’s sure that her pussy would hurt too in a little bit once she regained feeling there. They made out languidly for a little bit and he had started to soften up a bit more. “M’gonna pull out, OK? S’gonna feel uncomfortable.” He warned her and she nodded, biting on her lip to muffle the whimper that bubbled in her throat. He too hissed a bit and then moved off of the desk. Now she started to feel the thrum between her legs, still it was a bit dull and would likely get worse in the next hour. She had never been fucked like this, she was unsure of what to make of everything that happened, all she knew was that she didn’t regret it one bit. Everything had been so good because he seemed to know what buttons to push and how and when to do it. Like he had been given a manual on her and memorized it. The fact that he was her therapist probably helped a bit, but he also understood her on a deeper level, they were in a way the same.

Y/N couldn’t bring herself to move yet, she just stared at his ceiling as she heard him shuffling around. She started getting drowsy and let her eyes flutter closed for just a few minutes.

“Y/N, hey.” He squeezed at her calf and she groaned tiredly, “Bend your legs f’me, baby.” He said and she did so with his help, still drowsy as hell, “M’gonna clean you up, OK? Sorry, s’a bit cold.” He said and she frowned and hissed as she felt a soft damp texture against her center, but soon the cold soothed her swollen and beat up pussy, “Push, just a little.” He said and presumably wiped up his sperm leaking from her entrance, “Good girl.” He hummed and pressed a kiss to each of her knees before pulling away. “Grab my hand.” He said and she did and he pulled her up to a sitting position. Suddenly she felt really cold and exposed. Her blurry eyes adjusted and saw that he was now in his briefs, “Here, have a little water.” He said extending his water bottle to her and she took it with shaky fingers and glued some down as he rubbed over her thighs gently until she was done. Her eyes met his and he looked a little worried, “Are you o-” he stopped himself, “D-do you regret it?” He asked and she frowned and shook her head.

“No.” She assured softly and he looked more at ease. “Do you?” She asked and he shook his head with a timid smile.

“But I ummm, obviously didn’t use a condom, didn’t even ask you if it was OK t-to come inside of you. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I got really lost in the moment.” He rambled, “Are you on something or can I bring you an emergency contraceptive early tomorrow?” He asked and she smiled at him. Is this what sex is like for everyone or is Harry just thoughtful and caring like this? She asked herself, “What?”

“Nothing, you’re just really sweet.” She said as he hands came over his and rubbed over them, “And I’ve got the implant so we should be OK. Also I’ve always used condoms, given my…regular preferences, so I’m also aware that I’m clean.” She assured him and he nodded.

“OK. Me too. Sorry, we’re doing this all wrong, but ummm, I’m not usually this impulsive.” He explained and she giggled.

“It’s alright.” She assured and he smiled.

“Alright, let’s get you dressed.” He said and he collected her clothes and helped her get her bra and top on. Even slid her panties up her legs and helped her with her pants, “There you are.” He smiled.

“Thank you.” She hummed and he gabbed her face gently and leaned in to kiss her once more. Just a soft and sweet kiss that made her breathing suspend for just a moment before he pulled back, the space between them was still minimal as he pressed his fore head against hers.

“I want you to know that the things I said about you, being a whore and selfish and I don’t even know what else…”

“A disgusting home-wrecker is what you said, I think?” She responded and he frowned upon hearing it.

“I hope you know in your heart that you’re not those things. It was just a sex thing and-”

“I know. Kinda into the degradation thing too, don’t worry. S’rather tame to what I’ve heard in the past.” She said and that made his stomach twist with hurt for her.

“But you know that it’s not true right?” He asked her again and she stayed quiet, “Baby, s’not true. This past month you’ve worked so hard on the root causes of what was leading you to make those choices. You’re so much more than your mistakes and regrets. Remember who you are. But I know it's hard sometimes, so if you ever find yourself doubting or forgetting that please call me. I’ll always make time for you.” He assured her and she bit her lip as her eyes watered, she was trying not to cry but when he kissed her forehead the tears started to fall and he hugged her into his chest as she started to sob, “Shhh, shhhh, s’alright.” He comforted her with a soft and comforting whisper, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” He reassured her. It was time for her to get back to her room, it was a little past 8:30 now and he drew back from her once her crying had calmed and he helped wipe at her tears.

“Thank you, Harry.” She said and he smiled at her once more.

“Try getting down?” He requested and as soon as she landed on the ground her legs trembled and her knees gave. He caught her almost immediately and they both giggled at that, “OK, just lean here for a little until you’re good enough to walk. I’ll walk with you you to your room, OK?” She nodded with a smile. He finished getting dressed and gathered his belongings before they made their way down the halls and finally they got to her room and he stepped just a bit past the threshold, they both glanced out into the hallway before he dipped down and kissed her deeply for a few seconds before he pulled back.

“Let me leave my card with you now and I’ll jot down my cell on the back, OK?” She nodded and he pulled a pen from his backpack and a business card from his wallet before scribbling his number on it and leaving her with one final kiss goodnight.

*************

Harry and the nurses that mainly worked with her had a little farewell surprised for her on her way out. A card and some flowers, nothing over the top, but still sweet. Y/N’s mom saw the genuine sadness that Y/N’s team had for seeing her go, but also heard how proud of her they were and that she would be just fine. Then the time came for Y/N to actually go and she hugged her care team members, leaving Harry for last, maybe he stood on the end on purpose because he wanted to be her final goodbye. She smiled as she went up to him and hugged him tight around his stomach, discreetly breathing in his scent.

“M’gonna miss you. But I promise you, you’re ready and you’re gonna be just fine. I’m so, so proud of you.” He said as she squeezed her tight before letting go and she sighed shakily as a fresh wave of tears streaked her cheeks and she giggled and rolled her eyes.

“Sorry guys.” She sniffled and everyone giggled away the tension. She was still gripping Harry’s hand tight, not quite ready to let go yet.

“Ready, sweetheart?” Her mother asked and Y/N looked to her nurses and then at Harry who squeezed her hand tight.

“Remember who you are.” He mouthed to her and she nodded and took in a deep breath and let him go. She had no idea what would come of this or if she would ever even need to call him at any point in time, but as she walked out the doors with a final wave goodbye and her eyes met his one last time she was just filled with happiness to have crossed paths with him.

———A/N———

If you like this ending you don’t have to continue to parts 2 & 3, they are a bit more serious. No smut until part 3 & it’s more romantic than kinky.

READ PART 2

#writing #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #smut #dark harry #harry styles one shot #one shot #0nlythrowharrybeaux

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harrysonlylover · 6 months

Text

Red Line*

Summary: Harry has some lines that he sticks to, except that you were never one to oblige.

Or Harry getting jealous.

Trope: Agent! Harry

Warnings: Mean Harry, Dom Harry, oral scene, hair pulling, choking.

WC: 4k

This is set before At All Costs

Main Masterlist

Harry has been acting weird lately.

Y/n wants to believe that it’s a coincidence, or that he’s just delighting in his position as a superior, but she knows deep down that there’s more to it.

His attitude towards her keeps changing, he’s either completely stern or completely soft. The latter is more confusing for her given his persona. It’s even more concerning when it’s shown in front of other agents.

The only logical reasoning would be the physical relationship that they have. They hook up when he approaches her (which has been increasing lately). But getting on his nerves is her favorite activity, so sometimes she barges into his office or room and initiates the first move. Of course, she does that because he specified that sex will happen only when he says so. Though his plan doesn’t seem to work as he obliges to her wishes every single time and fucks her into the next training.

It started almost six months ago when he really had it with her during an important training. She talked back at him in front of relevant agents from a different country. He commanded her to leave and wait in his office where he was going to issue a punishment for her. That went completely sideways when the verbal discipline he wanted to perform turned into degradation as they screwed each other’s brains.

They never actually agreed to a certain timing, Harry would simply show up and knock the air out of her lungs with a hungry kiss. He’s someone who likes order in both his personal and professional life, Y/n disobedience rendered him attractive to her in an odd way.

The nice outcome was the raw and dirty sex they had. The only orders she obeyed were the ones he gave her behind closed doors.

It isn’t exactly an ideal position because intimate relationships are not to be found in the workplace; especially in this dangerous field. That wasn’t supposed to be an issue since it was common knowledge that they hated each other’s guts.

But did they really?

Harry’s weird behavior did not go unnoticed by Y/n, maybe it’s just their chemistry increasing but at this point, she can’t figure out anything. Lying to herself won’t benefit her; she likes him and she really shouldn’t but it’s already too late.

He isn’t a casual kisser but that changed recently. He attaches his mouth to her’s the entire time as if they got glued somehow.

He developed the habit of resting his lips against her forehead during missionary, leaving a subtle kiss that she didn’t even catch up on until a while after.

Despite the sexual energy they shared, the stolen glances and lingering touches, by far his lips subtly brushing against her face was the closest form of obedience he had ever experienced.

Their bodies worked together in sync. A kiss here, a kiss there. Warmth here and warmth there.

They despised each other outside of the bedroom, Harry can’t handle someone who questions his authority and Y/n is exactly that.

She messes with his perspective about everything he has been taught, his morals, his personality, and his methods of training. Whenever they’re found in the same room together, know that some snarky comments will be thrown.

He hadn’t seen her in two days. It’s normal to go a while without seeing a colleague or an agent as everyone’s missions can vary. He lived his life normally without seeing lifelong friends for months, unaware of their safety and whereabouts. But the moment the clock strikes 10 in the morning, he’s up on his feet strolling to Agent Marks’ office. All agents that he bumps into either move out of his way after greeting him or quickly hide inside a room.

And that is Harry Styles.

“Marks where is Miss Y/n?” Harry practically barged into the office making the agent in front of him jump on his feet in a matter of seconds.

“Mo—rning S-ir” He stuttered in shock at the sudden entrance before processing what Harry asked him and turning his attention to the computer where he typed Y/n’s name as Harry gave him a cold stare.

“It looks like she’s scheduled to return today.” He answers Harry whose face shows a hint of relief upon hearing the information.

He walked out of the office without any other word and headed straight to the spacious gym where other agents were training as well. This time no one halted their movements or walked away, only because everyone wanted to admire his stamina while working out.

All agents were well trained and monitored, just because Harry radiated authority does not mean others were lower than him. He’s a well respected man.

The attention in the room turned to him as he covered his hands in boxing gloves and began punching the bag in front of him.

Watching him exercise was similar to indulging in a movie about a ruthless athlete. He punched it nonstop as sweat dripped down his forehead until it ultimately covered his pump chest.

His stamina was otherworldly. He didn’t reach this position for nothing. While everyone admired him and secretly wished they could mimic his moves, Harry’s mind was somewhere else.

He couldn’t stop thinking about a certain girl and her safety. He’s not sure which is irritating him more; the fact that he’s unaware of her situation or why he’s so concerned with her.

His punches were coordinated yet extremely intense. His biceps flexed with every move and his abs contracted under the dim light of the gym.

He released every emotion that he couldn’t decipher into that punching bag. He didn’t realize how far he went until his friend Zayn stood in front of him and caught the punching bag in his arms.

“Mate it’s gonna fall off the hook.” He warned him, catching his eyes in a concerned stare.

Harry looked around him only to be met with the sight of an empty gym and a clock that was striking 1 in the afternoon.

He’s been here for three hours?

He walked slowly to the nearest wall where he rested his back before sitting on the ground.

He lost track of time as his mind was conquered by Y/n. He shouldn’t be thinking about her or anything that’s related to her. And definitely not about the mole on her left hip and the softness of her—

“Are you okay?” Zayn rescued him from his merciless brain. Harry’s chest heaved as he closed his eyes to gain a moment of calmness that he rarely ever enjoys.

The bruises on his knuckles that were healing are now visible again and he can’t help but remember how Y/n expressed worry over them.

Does she care about him?

Is she thinking about him?

“I’m fine.” He replied to Zayn to avoid further questioning. He’s aware that his friend can get worried sometimes but Harry is a closed book. There is no need to confide anyone in.

He walked away after catching his breath, leaving Zayn standing in the middle of the room with unanswered questions.

A cold shower will always soothe Harry right after exercising, but especially when he’s losing control of his thoughts.

As the icy water engulfed his skin in a pleasurable sting, he rubbed his face and eyes to avoid the sinful images that were flooding his mind.

Although he shouldn’t, he realized that he never fucked Y/n in the shower. It didn’t take long for him to harden at the mere thought of their skin together under the water.

He can even imagine the way she’d rest her head against his body, bite his skin, and let out lustful moans that haunt his daydreams.

He is absolutely fucked.

“Fuck’s sake.” He tilts his head backward, allowing the cold water to drip down his toned body reaching his erect cock, earning a hiss from him.

He could fuck anyone right now just to get it out of his system. In fact, he could do that at any given time and yet he always holds back.

The gravitational pull Y/n has on him is insane. He wants her body attached to his at all times.

He showered quickly after muttering under his breath about self-discipline and wrapped a towel around his waist.

His mind was so occupied with Y/n that he forgot all about bringing in clothes with him. He’ll have to step out with only the towel covering his body, but that wasn’t much of an issue as he assumed that the center would be somewhat empty at this hour.

He strolled down the hallway with the towel as a layer for his lower body. The shower helped his nerves to calm down after all the torturous thinking.

He was headed towards his office that he stays in on most days before hearing muffled voices coming from the gym.

Normally, he wouldn’t give two fucks. He can’t keep up with every single agent and he only interferes if he observes something against the rules.

But the soft voice followed by giggles that his ear can detect from miles away—that is his business.

He dismisses the fact that he’s half-naked as he directs his attention to the gym area where he sees Y/n, still in her field clothes standing next to an agent who is clearly thirsting for her.

“I’m glad that you’re back.” The agent practically had his body glued to Y/n.

“Hmm yeah?” Y/n used her flirtatious tone; the same one that had Harry weak in the knees. He clenched his fists, trying to hold back from using the training he had today to deform the guy’s face. All the stress that the shower took away came back and bubbled through his bloodstream.

“Of course. I missed you and I was wondering if you would like—“ Harry interrupted by pushing the door open with a force, catching them off guard.

“Hello Sir—“

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” His anger was visible and he looked like he was about to get reckless.

“Training sir-“

“Training your flirting methods?! They sure as hell suck.” Harry dripped poison with every word and his body language indicated how furious he was.

Y/n stood unbothered. She was amused even. Harry could easily tell that which pissed him off even more. Her eyes scanned his body the same way she eyes a candy.

The guy was swallowing down his throat, inattentive to the shared glances between Harry and Y/n. All he cared about in the moment was not upsetting his boss, and trying not to appear as a total idiot in front of Y/n.

“Get the fuck away from my face right this instant. Your actions will have a consequence.” Harry’s voice was threatening and devilish as if he enjoyed being this rough with agents. In fact, he lived for the thrill of it.

The agent scurried out of the room as fast as he could to avoid eye contact with Harry who was staring at him with a clenched jaw and bulging eyes.

If he wasn’t angry already, Y/n surely knew how to press his buttons. She casually headed towards the door with an amused grin planted on her face.

“Not so fast Y/n.” He grabbed her arm before she got to pass by him. She rolled her eyes instantly and looked away.

“Who the hell are you rolling your eyes at?” He grabbed her jaw with his hand, forcing her to look up at him.

“Is there anyone else in the room?” She replied in a sassy tone, as she fluttered her eyelashes at him.

His nostrils were flaring and she could almost hear his teeth grinding together. The look he gave her warned her that she was in for it. But obviously, she pressed further.

He glanced subtly behind him to make sure that the hallway was empty before tightening his grip on her arm and dragging her behind him.

“Where are you—“

“I don’t want to hear you talking.” She had really messed up.

When she returned from her mission, she craved nothing more than his body against her. It tormented her on the field, but she was instead met with an agent who was pining after her when she was not even interested.

She flirted back because she saw Harry’s silhouette while the guy was too busy staring at her.

Teasing Harry was her favorite activity. They were not official nor expressed romantic gestures but Y/n was curious to see Harry’s reaction upon seeing her with other men, and that guy was the perfect opportunity for her.

She didn’t have a particular response in mind, maybe just Harry being nonchalant but she certainly did not see this coming.

He guided her to his office where he shut the door behind him with a thud. He released her arm and stood in front of her as he looked down at her with furrowed eyebrows and a clenched jaw.

“What the fuck was that Y/n?” His tone fluctuated between high and low as he cornered her, making her lean against the door while his arms caged her on both sides.

“I don’t know. What was it?” She pretended to be clueless, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth; a move that he adores.

“So now you know nothing about being a slut?” He spat with anger, attempting to avoid the way she was tugging at her lip.

Their bodies were dangerously close, he wanted to bury his face in her neck and give her love bites that she’d have to hide but feel their sting whenever pressed on. Y/n craved sinking herself down on his cock and caressing his face as he let out the most beautiful sighs. But Harry’s head was spinning with jealousy and Y/n opened Pandora’s box.

“Are you jealous Harry?” She cooed, placing her hand on his toned chest which was still moist from the shower. His pine shower gel was everywhere.

“It’s sir for you.” He moved her hand away from his body and wrapped it around her throat.

He didn’t want to admit it verbally, but he was about to burn the entire room when he saw her breathing next to a man who wasn’t him. These feelings of possessiveness keep increasing and he can’t fight his urges no matter how disciplined he is.

“I left for two days and you got all cranky.”

“Then you came back and started acting like a whore.” His grip on her throat tightened as he inched his face closer to her.

“We were just chatting.” She rolled her eyes again.

“First of all, you can only roll your eyes when my cock is stretching your pussy…” His face was practically glued to hers as his deep voice sent shivers through her body. His cologne made a complete mess out of her.

“… Second of all, he wants to fuck you and that’s my duty only. Do you understand?” His tone was a mix of possessiveness and softness.

“Yes.” Her brain barely processed left his mouth.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes sir.”

With Harry towering over her, she took a quick moment to ogle his body. There’s a reason she likes it when he chokes her; other than the tingly feeling she gets when his hand covers her throat—his veins drench her panties.

They extend along his forearm down to his hand that she stares at during training. The more he tightens his grip—the more his biceps flex. His pumped chest and chiseled abs are a bit moist from the shower, and incredibly smooth because he applies a lotion. The towel is low on his waist giving a scandalous display of his toned V line, and an appearance of the ferns tattoo.

The water covering his curls dripped down to her chest then sternum; drop after the other before he lowered his face to catch them with his tongue. It felt warm against her skin—seeing him fresh out of the shower had her lusting for him to fuck her under the water.

His tongue moved against her skin, catching the fallen droplets before reaching her neck where he sucked harshly on her skin.

He pulled away abruptly offering her his devilish grin.

“Kneel.”

He switched back to his authoritative tone, he knows how much she loves being treated like a slut. She acted like one anyway.

“Yes sir.” She gradually went down on her knees, with her hands trailing his body just so she could take the towel off. His cock stood against his stomach, beads of precum glistening on his tip.

“Don’t think for one second that this is a reward. Your mouth is nothing but a fuck toy.” He grabbed her ponytail in one hand and inserted his finger in her mouth with the other.

She sucked on his thumb, looking up at him with ‘fuck me eyes’ as she shamelessly continued to ogle his muscles. Her view was perfect. His V line and the trimmed hair had her pussy clenching around nothing.

She stuck her tongue out at him daring him to not hold back. She pushes his buttons every time so she can earn what she wants: rough sex and soft aftercare.

“Such an eager slut. Drooling for cock.” He slapped his cock on her face making her try to suck on it.

“Only your cock sir.” She knew that this would get him all worked up.

“Damn right. Only mine Y/n.” He grunted, guiding his cock to her rosy lips. She licked the precum off his sensitive tip earning a hiss from him.

Her tongue worked its way along his shaft with one of her hands cupping his balls. She maintained eye contact with him for the thrill.

Her mouth released scandalous moans to show him that she likes this. Her hand stroked his length while her tongue fixated on his tip.

“Sluts don’t get to enjoy pleasure.” He pulled his cock out of her mouth with a pop making her whine.

He spat on his shaft before bringing it to her lips again and thrusting it all in one go. She gagged immediately and tried her best to bob her head against it. He slapped her hand away when she tried to touch his length and began thrusting his hips into her mouth.

“Can you hear that? The sound of your pathetic gagging? Way better than your sassy talk.” His voice wavered at the end when his cock reached the back of her throat.

He had to balance between tilting his head backward from pleasure and looking down to see her beautiful ruined face.

Her cheeks hollowed around his shaft as he used her mouth. Her gagging had him weak in the knees, not to mention the tears streaming down her face along with her messy hair strands.

“That’s it, little minx. Make your throat ache.” He stroked her head before pushing it against his shaft, holding it for a few seconds, and pulling out.

She coughed heavily; trying to catch her breath as precum and saliva dripped down from her mouth to her chest.

“Aw, would you look at that?” He swiped his fingers along her mouth, catching their mixed juices together just so he could lick it.

“Whose cum is that hm? Whose cock are you choking on?” He asked with a raspy voice that had her squirming.

“You sir.”

“Hmm like music to my ears.” He took in her puppy eyes and ruined face for a minute or two, before thrusting his cock back in her mouth.

Her tongue felt so fucking warm that he had to restrain himself from cumming. He didn’t lie when he said that her mouth was his fuck toy. His hips rolled forward as he pushed her head on his length back and forth, letting out audible moans.

“This is the only cock you can suck Y/n.” He gritted through his teeth as he fucked her mouth mercilessly.

“When you wake up in the morning with a sore throat, you better keep that in mind.” Her whines were loud through the gagging and choking. Of course, her squirming never fails to make him smirk. She’s sassy until he makes her needy; that’s when sub-Y/n comes out to play.

“Oh poor baby, does your pussy need a cock to fill it?” He slowed down to watch more saliva leak from the corners of her mouth and to hear her beg for a release.

“What was that? Couldn’t hear you.” He sped up again—on purpose. She dug her nails into his thighs and pushed her head against his cock till her nose bumped his pelvis.

This exact moment altered his brain chemistry—she silently choked on his cock, a tear streaming down her cheek as she whimpered eagerly with puppy eyes.

She lived for this—she wanted him to use her.

He refrained from guiding her anymore as she took the initiative by herself and fucked her mouth.

“So dumb for my cock aren’t you?” He rolled his eyes in ecstasy when she swiped her tongue against his swollen tip.

His length had grown since she first began sucking it due to swelling—but that didn’t stop her from taking it all inside his mouth.

He felt his cock beginning to twitch which she seemed to enjoy. Of course, she’d want his load.

“Time to use your mouth as my cum dump, isn’t that right little minx?” Her muffled moan and gagging sent him over the edge.

He didn’t hold back and released his load inside her mouth. His moans and curses filled the room as he kept letting out one rope after the other of his warm cum.

Y/n’s mouth overflowed as she eagerly swallowed it while some leaked out of the corner of her mouth.

“Take my cum, little minx.” He panted heavily—prompting his muscles to contract as his hand caressed Y/n’s cheek.

She took his cum every single time without hesitation, the same way he devours her cunt for breakfast.

He pulled out with a hiss—he was still leaking but he didn’t want to pressure her even though he knew she’d want it.

She was trying to lick every drop from the corners of her mouth. Her view was even better now—he looked heavenly with his body just standing there as his cock leaked on her face.

He kneeled to her level and lifted her body off the ground with one arm, before placing her on his desk. He was still experiencing the high of the orgasm—but he wanted to make sure she was okay.

She did not use her safe word and he wonders if she ever will—she likes it way too rough.

He wiped her face with tissues, pressing his lips against her temple like he always does. She rested her head against his shoulder as he stroked her head.

They never discussed his gentleness in the aftercare. It was the bare minimum of course, but sometimes he liked to pretend that it was more than that.

It was an excuse to give her love. To tip the universe off its balance.

“Y/n?”

“Hmm?”

“This is the last time I wish to see you flirting with another man.” His tone remained neutral, but it was an order. A strict one.

“Don’t want to anyway.” She buried her face in his chest.

Her response caught him off guard. He can’t push away his possessive thoughts for long—but he can’t confess either.

He pulled away momentarily to fetch her a water bottle from his mini fridge. He helped her have some sips before wiping her mouth and kissing it—again.

Her mouth was addictive and damn it was he an addict.

He sticks to a lot of rules in his life—yet her lips feel so forbidden, inviting him into a world free of order.

She was his kryptonite.

His red line that no one would survive crossing.

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jarofstyles · 21 days

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Illicit 9

Hello my loves... we are nearing the end of the main Illicit story, but we will have tons of extra one shots for them. Flashbacks, memories, looks into the future etc. We have one more part left for the main series, but here is an intense part... :-)

WC- 4.8k

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Illicit Masterlist

Warnings- home break in, weapons, guns, knives, injuries, stabbing, mean harry, crazy Katherine, hospital/medical scene and mention of treatment, stitches, talk of concussions and wounds...

————-

It was too quiet.

Harry arrived home, paper bag in hand but the entire way up there had been unease in his stomach. Something wasn’t right and he had felt it in his gut.

He’d gotten word that Katherine had been spotted a few streets over just a few days prior and he knew he’d been on edge when the cops had said they’d tried to follow but she’d gone to the wind again. It unsettled him to know she was seen outside the coffee shop Y/N frequented, more than anything. He’d upped security again, but when he entered the penthouse he couldn’t see the guard supposedly meant to be in the foyer. His stomach dropped, hand dropping to his waistband to feel for the gun he had stuffed in there since she had gotten back.

It was insane to him. How a deal had been so dumb, but made into such a big deal that he had to worry about the safety of his home and his lover. That a wannabe socialite had managed to fuck with him just because he didn’t want her. He’d never led her on, making sure to be as brutally honest as possible, but it seemed like that didn’t matter when she was disturbed.

It was stiffly quiet in the house but when he stood still and listened he could hear the classical music drifting from up the stairs. The unusual chill settled down his spine as he tiptoed across the foyer- only to be stopped in his tracks.

The guard was knocked clean out on the floor. Eyes closed, gun across the room and blood trickling from the side of his head. A cleaning cart was parked by the edge of the stairs, making his hackles rise and stomach sink. He knew exactly how she had gotten into the place, and she was a lot crazier than he expected. Of course she would pull this sort of desperate thing, he’d half expected it, but he’d been so hopeful that it would happen at his job. Somewhere his love wasn’t around to bear witness to. She’d been so stressed, and he had failed to keep her safe. Y/N was home. He knew she was, he’d texted her not even an hour and half prior to confirm he’d bring home the bagels she wanted. The paper bag he had carefully set down, weapon drawn as he crouched down to take the pulse of the guard.

It was there. He was alive, just unconscious- thank god. Harry didn’t want anyone to die on his dime. He didn't have time to waste, taking his phone out and hurriedly typing the SOS signal into the message system to the other guards along with telling them to be as quiet as humanly possible coming inside.

He tried to be silent as he scaled the steps, holding his weapon out in front of him. If this was indeed Katherine or someone who had sent her? Who knew what they had on them. What state they’d be in. He could only pray that Y/N was unscathed, that she’d target him and him alone. It was his fault, after all.

This was what he had been afraid of since Katherine had disappeared. Obviously in order to break and enter along with taking intimate photos of people in their own home, there had to be something wrong with her- but he had hoped that maybe Y/N’s shiny optimism had been correct, that she’d gone away to lick her wounds and would restart somewhere else. He should have known she wouldn’t go down that easy. The woman had gone through so much effort in order to really sell the idea that she was in a relationship with Harry despite his uninterested gaze, barely looking at her- let alone touch. She had seen him as her ticket up in the society she was desperate to be the queen bee of and Harry had been the perfect goal she had thought she acquired.

Of course when it came tumbling down she would lose it. The difference between Harry and his lover is that he didn’t have any empathy for her. While Y/N may frown and empathize with the fact she had been stripped of everything, Harry was pleased. She’d been a thorn in his side for ages, always clingy and managed to be a true annoyance for him. She was entitled, bratty, vapid, loud, desperate for approval and obsessed with validation. Everything he disliked rolled into one. She had fucked around with his business and wasted his time, not to mention the fact that Harry had resentment over her being unwilling to cut the deal so he could be with Y/N in an easier way. He’d brave any storm for her, of course he would, but he’d prefer smooth roads rather than bumpy ones.

His heart pounded in his chest so hard it hurt, mouth dry and rage boiling in his stomach as he got up to the second floor where the music got louder. Of course, the one room with the door open a smidge was his office. He couldn’t see or hear Y/N, but he couldn’t chance opening another door when he was a shadow pass under the open door. The closer he got, though, he could hear mumbling under the music.

“You really didn’t need to tie me up.” Y/N. He could hear her now, the tiniest wave of relief washing over him knowing the was awake, talking.

“I really did.” The sneer belonged to her. To Katherine. His spine stiffened as he tried to be as silent as possible, keeping his breathing as even as he could as he slowly approached his office. “You’re a snake. Taking people’s boyfriends from under their noses. Homewrecker.” The woman hissed like a snake, Harry’s stomach rolling as he heard the sharp sound of a slap. There was nothing else said for a moment, making Katherine growl in rage.

“God, you disgust me. I can’t believe you were the one to steal him away from me. You're no one.” Her voice sounded a bit more unhinged as he listened to it, hearing pacing in the room. He braved a glance in, the crazy woman’s back to him as she paced in front of Y/N. His heart hurt as he saw blood smeared on her cheek and her hair was messy, falling mostly out of the messy bun she had styled. “You don’t have any reason to date a man like him. What can you offer him? Hm? You’ve got no assets besides your family’s money, and that’s pathetic in comparison to both his and mine. You don’t have any appeal to pop culture. You just… what? Make your stupid, ugly art? How do you think you’re going to keep him?”

“I love him.” Y/N said softly, trying not to lose her cool. “I’d love him if he was bankrupt tomorrow. I’d love him if he was a mechanic, a farmer, a pop star, if he was a stripper. I don’t care too much about his money. He’s got plenty because he’s a good worker but, when he comes home…” She frowned. “When he comes home, he likes tea because he drinks coffee all day at work. He likes his house shoes and would wear them all the time if it was fashionable. He takes cold plunges often, he likes broccoli but not cauliflower. He has a tense neck and pretends its fine but falls asleep when I massage it. I offer him stability, Katherine.” Y/N wasn’t being rude, but talking to her with an even tone. “You have to understand that my money, my social power means nothing to me. Harry has someone who he can rely on to take care of him when he’s sick, to be honest and vulnerable with. Not someone who calls paparazzi for a surprise ambush. If you paid a lick of attention to him, you’d know he hates cameras. Despises having his photo taken most of the time. He wasn’t the man for you, but there are a lot of men who would love to be with you.”

“Stop fucking pandering to me.” Katherine hissed again, striking Y/N again on her cheek. It was too much for him, watching her head snap to the side and the ring on Katherine’s hand tear at the skin near her lip. “You don’t know anything! You stole him from me. He was going to give in! He was going to love me!”

“No I wasn’t.” Harry held his gun out in front of him, kicking the door open as he looked at them with eyes darker than either woman had ever seen them. He was seething, rage visible on his form. There was no doubt about it. “I was never going to love you. I was never going to give in, you are just fucking insane.” His disdain was visible on his face but he could see that Y/N was tied up, blood on her face making his stomach hurt. She was going to have a swollen eye from the hit on her right cheek, the hit having cut her right underneath it.

Harry had never felt more livid in his life.

The relief on her face was the only thing that settled him slightly, glad that she still trusted him despite the fact he was the reason she was in the situation to begin with.

“Why are you pointing a gun at me?” Katherine was quick to show the knife she had, approaching Y/N until he aimed the weapon a few inches from her feet and let off a warning shot. It punctured a splintered hole on the bottom of his desk but it made the both of them scream, Katherine scrambling away but still holding the knife up- as if it was going to intimidate him.

“Because you’re psychotic, because you’ve tied my woman up, you’ve broken into my house a number of times and you just don’t seem to be getting the fucking hint. Pick a number.” He grunted. The smell of the residue the shot had left making his throat tight, but he didn’t care. The approach was slow, the whole idea to get her away from Y/N. “I’m the one you’re mad at. Why the fuck are you here, hurting her? Think she stole you away from you when I’ve never belonged to you in the first place. I’ve always been hers.” He sneered, moving his body in front of Y/N’s. At least there was a barrier now.

“No!” The growl that left her was a bit chilling. She sounded possessed, huffing and puffing as she pointed the knife at him. “You were mine! You signed the contract and you had to take me on dates. You had to have liked me. We had sex!” The crazed tone to her voice returned with a fierceness, making him wonder just how far she was willing to take this. “We were the power couple, you were falling in love with me and she ruined it!” There was pure hatred in her crazed eyes as she tried to catch a glance at his girlfriend.

“No. Look at me, not at her.” He barked. “I’m telling you now, I didn’t want to date you. I’ve told you this countless times. I have never wanted you, the only reason people called us an it couple is because you were pathetic and lied about me buying you gifts and sending you flowers that you bought yourself and hung all over me like a desperate bitch when I was forced to be out in public with you. The sex was subpar at best, you sounded like a dying fucking cat and there’s a reason I didn’t want to look at you during.” Yeah, he was being a dick, but he didn’t care. She needed to get it through her thick skull. “Y/N is and always has been the love of my life since I met her. If I knew her before being offered the contract you’d never have gotten a breath of my air. But that was because of me and me alone. I never wanted you, and I’m the one you should be angry at.” No matter how desperately he wanted to turn around and check on Y/N when he heard her sniffling behind him, no matter how panicked he felt internally and how bad his heart hurt, he kept his eye on the danger.

“You’re lying!” She screeched, trying to lunge at him but he aimed to the side and shot again- this time into the wall. As much as he wanted her to suffer, Harry didn’t like the idea of Y/N being here and witnessing something extremely violent. He wanted Katherine to rot in jail, wanted her to go insane all alone. He didn’t feel like hiring someone to scrub the floors and his carpet either. “What the fuck! Are you trying to kill me?” Her face had paled as she turned to look at the bullet lodged into the wall.

“I should, but I won’t. You invaded my home multiple times, put hands on my woman, caused emotional and physical distress. Tried to fucking hide from police and your father alike because you knew I was going to destroy you. I don’t know how you’ve turned it into some delusion, thinking that if you hurt Y/N that I’d somehow want you but I never have. I never will. I want to see you rot behind bars, miserable. A bullet in you would be an easy way out.” Maybe Harry was…. Slightly crazy as well. But he didn’t run around kidnapping people, breaking in places, and he sure as hell didn’t waste his time trying to humiliate himself over someone who clearly didn’t want him and never had. “For every fucking scratch, bruise, and tear that comes from her, I’m going to pour more and more money onto the lawyers that will get you the longest possible sentence. I know you’ll do terribly there, and that’s what I’m looking forward to.” His own evil smirk rose to his lips as he heard the guards enter the room, more footsteps following up and the police announcing their presence. “You are nothing to me, you never have been. Now I’m going to make sure you pay for the shit you did. I know she’s nicer than I am, but I disagree.” He hissed. “Hope you find a lover in prison, because that’s the only hope you have now.”

Harry sort of expected it, but he hadn’t expected the quickness. Katherine screamed in rage, lunging at him and slicing the side of his arm and shirt with the blade. He barely recognized the pain, more focused on yanking her knife out of her hand to throw to the side before handling arms and forcing her to the floor. Her body thrashed, screeching out insults as the guards came in quickly, taking over and keeping her restrained as they clipped handcuffs on her. She spit and kicked, looking like a rabid animal as she somehow called out for Harry to help her as they lifted her up to carry her out of the room.

“Harr-Harry!” Y/N’s voice sobbed as he turned to her again, finding one of the other guards cutting the rope off of her. Her teary eyes looked towards his now blood soaked shirt and jacket, shaky hands gently grabbing it and pulling the latter off of his form. “Oh my god, are you okay? She stabbed you!” Her breathing was frantic and he could feel her trembling as she grabbed the other side of the jacket and applied pressure to the wound. He didn’t feel the pain quite yet, adrenaline still going strong. All he could focus on was her own injuries. “Can someone call an ambulance? Please?” She choked on her sob. “For him and f-for.. She knocked him out downstairs, I heard it. I hope he’s okay, we… Please?” She pleaded to the guard who nodded with his phone to his ear already.

“Hey… I’m okay.” He whispered to her, his uninjured hand reaching up to hold her chin. “I’m okay, love. S’a scrape. Promise. I’m completely fine. I’m worried about you.” His face was full of that concern, scanning over her injuries. Seeing them up closer made his stomach turn, almost like he was about to be sick all over himself. “M’sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry.” His eyes burned. “I promised she wouldn’t hurt you. And now you’re all bloody.” There were a few marks and he wondered how many times she had slapped Y/N around. One scrape on her forehead that was bleeding a lot more than the face ones, bruising already forming around her eye. “Where else are you hurt? What happened?” He pulled her into his form, ignoring any warning about being careful with his arm as she still tried to apply the pressure.

“I’m fine. She- she hit me with a book, back of the head to stun me. My vision went wonky and I blacked out a little, came to all tied up. I heard her coming upstairs after the stuff downstairs but I wasn’t quick enough to lock the door.” She sniffled, feeling his lips press against the top of her head. His shirt was ruined, bloodied and torn at the arm but he didn’t give a shit about the clothing. He wanted her as close as possible.

“Fuck.” Voice wrecked, he held her tight. “Okay. We need to get you checked out first, please. You probably have a concussion or worse. I need to… I’m not letting you out of my sight.” This was going to be an issue later on down the line, but he didn’t care. He was going to exercise every bit of his money privilege to make sure Y/N got the best care possible and every single thing was taken care of. He failed her once, and he wasn’t going to do it again.

—----

Harry had fought to ride in the same ambulance as her. He’d fought hard, cussing and snarling but ultimately was forced to be calmed by her gentle words and the contact they had at the hospital insuring that they’d be in the same ER room together. The man was terrified to leave her side and Y/N could see it. Despite his cold and hard look, his anger coating his words, the venom in his tone, it was all out of fear. It’s how his anxiety manifested when it came to her and she knew all too well.

So he’d given in and gave her a slow kiss, promising that he wasn’t going to let anything else happen to her- all before threatening the poor EMS pair in charge of Y/N with their jobs if something happened to her. She had to make sure they knew they would be fine as soon as the door closed and Harry was wrangled onto his own ride, which she could hear grumbling and complaining as he did so. Y/N loved her grumpy man so much.

He arrived first to the hospital which meant he had demanded to wait for her to be wheeled in, making sure she went first. There was triage, which meant a knife wound would be looked at first, but he barely flinched as they sat in their room with the door closed, two separate teams looking over their injuries. A set of the guards were outside said doors, taking updates about the one who had been injured on the job and ensuring no one else got in or out other than approved medical staff. Harry wasn’t stupid and he knew the media would catch wind as soon as it leaked. It couldn’t be too long now considering he knew Katherine must have continued her tantrum all the way down to the police cruiser.

“Is she okay? What’s going on?” He asked across the room, trying to look over shoulders to see the doctor looking over her injuries. The frantic beat of his heart had been a slight cause of concern when they took his vitals but then again, who would be calm after a situation like that?

“Mr. Styles, please stay still so we can properly stitch.” The poor woman working on him most definitely had her work cut out for her and he felt bad only slightly considering he liked to be a good patient, but Y/N was more important to him than the stupid fucking stitches. Luckily it really had only been a cut. There wasn’t a lot of muscle damage, and it was even on his arm without tattoos. If he was going to be in a knife fight this was the luckiest outcome someone could hope for.

“Harry, please.” Y/N shot him a tired look. “I’m okay. I promise. Let them stitch you up so you have the best chance at healing. It would make me happy.”

“My goal is to always make you happy, my love, but I know it’s serious when you black out.” He stressed. For his own good, he should have been calming down but it was hard to when they hadn’t told him much yet.

“Can I disclose to Mr. Styles of your condition, Miss?” The doctor asked, which normally would have made him happy to know he respected her privacy- but his blood pressure was rising by the second with the lack of information.

“Of course.” She murmured, giving him a softer look as one of the nurses began to clean the cuts on her face. Even still, she was his beautiful girl. He was going to push for the most harsh charges he could for that evil bitch. Y/N didn’t deserve that. He definitely did.

“Well, the cuts are going to heal just fine. They don’t need stitching as they aren’t too deep, a few are just scrapes. The one on her head was a bit deeper but headwounds tend to bleed more, so it looked worse than met the eye. Shouldn’t scar badly, if at all.” He explained, making a bit of relief flood his body. “However, I do believe she has a concussion. We were discussing sending her for a CAT scan to ensure there was no further damage, but I don’t think there will be. She’s a lucky girl.”

Harry bristled, lip curling in a snarl. “Lucky? Having your home invaded and being tied up and abused is lucky to you? Who the fuck are you to say-” His defense was calmed by a call of his name, a frown on his love’s face as she shook her head.

“H, you know he didn’t mean it that way.” She looked towards the paling doctor. Harry’s bark was very mean, and his bite was meaner. The fear was understood but she would make sure her lover relaxed. “He means that for what could have happened, it’s good. Just like how you could have been stabbed in a worse place. He isn’t minimizing what happened to me.” It was difficult because she couldn’t physically touch him with them being in separate hospital beds across the private room, but the words had the desired effect.

His eyes narrowed at the doctor as he set his jaw, deciding to leave it for her sake. “Get her in there immediately. I want every person qualified to look at the results to ensure there's nothing missed.” Harry didn’t swing his name and money around in this sort of setting too often, but it seemed necessary. “Or I’ll make sure my father pulls funding for those very nice golf retreats for the staff.” There was a Styles wing here, after all. There had been for years.

“Y-Yes, I’m going to call over to them now. I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Make it fast.” He snipped, eyes only softening when he left the room and he locked gazes with Y/N. The man had no clue how he was going to possibly make it up to her. It was extremely rare that he ever felt genuine, punch in the gut guilt, but seeing her smile at him only made it worse. How was she not angry at him right now? He had gotten a human angel, that’s for sure.

How would he make her feel safe in their penthouse again? He knew it wasn’t a forever home but it was the first place they’d cemented themselves as a couple. He was going to do anything he could to ensure she felt safe again, though he knew it was probably going to be a while after Katherine was locked up. He’d be looking at a new building regardless after finding out that she had been cleared by the building security to go in the back entrance. She’d apparently been deranged enough to find out the shit changes and hopped into what had to be the only unmonitored elevator ride that day. She had a valid key card to get into their place and had snuck up on the in house guard, making her efforts very apparent. Katherine been plotting for a while.

As soon as his stitches were finished and they gave him some pain relief, he walked over to her bed and sat himself down in it. There was no semblance of personal space, frown on his face as his fingers traced over the gauze on her forehead cut. She looked sleepy, his poor girl, but they’d still have to wait for the tests on her and they wanted to monitor his heart rate for a bit. Their stay wasn’t over quite yet.

“M’gonna get us out of here for a bit, as soon as you’re okay to travel.” He whispered, closing them into their own private little bubble. They finally had a minute alone. “Wherever you want to go. Think on it.” He tipped her chin up to place a few kisses to her lips, needing the comfort for his own sake. A shaky exhale made him pull back, eyes burning as she lifted her hand to cup his cheek, thumb brushing the hot skin.

“Anywhere with you.” Y/N smiled, her own pain meds kicking in. “Probably can’t go on a plane with a concussion for a bit. I dunno, m’not the doctor. But… maybe we can go to the lake house for a bit?” Laying on her side, she scooted over so Harry could properly be comfortable on the small hospital bed. It wasn’t built for two but they made it work. “It’ll be a bit of a drive but I think it would be nice to get out of the city for a little bit. Just spend time with you alone.”

In all honesty, Harry knew he’d sort of dropped the ball with Y/N. He hadn’t given her every single thing she deserved and he’d been limited by the stupid deal. Now that it was over, though? He wasn’t going to pull back any of the things he wanted to do. She deserved a vacation, his uninterrupted attention and a true break from work. As much of a workaholic as he was, the only thing he loved more was the girl in his arm. If he didn’t think they’d scold him for popping stitches he would use both of them to tug her on top of him.

“I think that’s a lovely idea, my love.” He approved, the softest smile he could mange painting his lips. “I know things are going to be a bit hectic for a while but m’gonna take care of you. S’all I want to do. You’re my favorite person and… I know I haven’t been the easiest person to be with. Know I failed at keeping you safe, but m’a bit too selfish to let you go.” His eyes shined, trying not to let too much emotion out in here. “I’m going to spend every day for the rest of my life taking care of you and making sure every bit of your body is safe. You’re the most important thing in the world to me. My heart.” The soft croon was rewarded with her shy smile, a little peck placed to his lips as a secondary bonus. Butterflies were the last sensation the grump of a man ever expected to feel in his life, but Y/N had lit up his life. “It’s a forever thing, you and me. Just have to wait and see.”

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heartateasee · 7 days

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"Chapter Two"

Word Count: 5.6k

(Chapter two to “Cherry Bomb” - please make sure to read the TW on the “Cherry Bomb” masterlist before proceeding.)

●・○・●・○・●

Today marks a month since my hometown show, which also means I’ve been back in LA officially for the same amount of time. I hadn’t really been out much since being here considering there was still a lot of rearranging to do with my house. For starters, it took a few weeks to get my home recording studio completely set up the way I needed it. I had also painted a lot of the walls, and worked on getting my patio to look like an oasis.

My home was finally feeling like just that…home.

It’s been a while since I’ve had that feeling considering I was bouncing from place to place while touring - sleeping each night either in the van as we drove to another location, or a hotel if we had the time.

Having a place to call my own now is so refreshing. It finally feels like I’m settling down somewhere for the first time since I left home to pursue music. I’ve managed to make it completely me, and I’m proud of myself for that.

Another reason why I think I threw myself into renovating my house so much was due to the fact that I had seen Harry again. After five years, I saw someone who I had tried my hardest to forget.

But the sad thing was, it still wasn’t him.

I’ve made peace with the fact that my Harry is truly gone, and to be honest, I think it’s helped me push forward a bit when it comes to that healing. People really are telling the truth when they say sometimes you never properly heal - the pain just dulls. I think that’s how it will always be when it comes to the loss of Harry.

There’s nothing like speaking about someone as if they were dead when they’re still very much alive.

Regardless of me not really taking the time to see how things had changed in LA, I made myself a promise that today I’d be remedying that. I want to try to go and look for a few additional art pieces for both my living room and bathroom, and I also want to see if the old record store I used to shop at was still open.

That record store holds a lot of memories for me, and I hope to see that it’s still the same.

Looking at myself in the full length mirror in my room, I tug on a pair of black flared corduroys - pairing them with my trusty black platform Dr. Martens. I pull on a black tank top and tuck it into the waistband of my trousers before pulling on a black mesh top over that. I give myself a small nod as I fluff up my hair that I had already done, and I give my makeup one more glance as I head out of my bedroom.

With my small black purse over my shoulder, and my keys in my hand, I make my way outside and into my car. I start towards town, and I make the decision to go looking for some vinyls first since that’s what I’m most excited about.

As I drive, I take in the scenery around me, and I can see that there’s obviously been a lot of build up in the area since I was last living here. More apartment buildings, houses and shopping centers. It was the same, but it wasn’t - much like myself now that I’ve returned.

I feel a smile tug onto my lips as I see the sign for the record store, and I can’t help but let out a small laugh when I realize that’s thankfully one of the things that hasn’t changed at all. Pulling into the parking lot, I park and get out while feeling the giddiness in my stomach that at least something has remained the same.

The same old bell chimes as I step in the front door, and I look over to see there’s no one behind the counter currently. I can’t help but stop in my tracks as I look at it - covered with various bands stickers and doodles, it brings me right back to when I would come in here almost every day the summer after highschool.

“There she is!” Harry's voice bellows as I walk into the record store with a bag of Taco Bell in my hand - a drink carrier in the other. “And she brings me food?”

He dramatically looks up at the sky with his hands pressed together as if he were praying. “I don’t know what I did for whoever is up there to give me Marlowe Finch as my best friend, but I could kiss your ass right now for doing so.”

I can’t help but giggle at his words as I shake my head, and I make my way over to the counter. After making sure the bag and drinks are secure on the surface, I also push myself up onto it before dishing out the food.

“I got you the Mexican pizza combo with a Baja Blast,” I tell him as I pull out the box as well as setting his drink down by him. I make sure I also give him the taco that comes with it. “Oh, and I got you chips and cheese!”

I can feel Harry watching my every move as I set our food up for the two of us, and I look over to him once I finish - feeling my cheeks flush a bit. “What?”

Harry shakes his head as his bunny teeth clamp down on his bottom lip. “Nothing, just so lucky to have you - that’s all.”

“And I’m lucky to have you,” I don’t hesitate to say it back as I lift a hand up to fix the backwards hat he currently has on. He was growing his hair out, but was insistent on wearing hats. He looks like a true frat boy, which is a thing I always give him shit over. “Going to a party or something after your shift? You’re a little more dressed up than usual.”

“Yeah, one of the guys who’s in a local band invited me. He comes in here a lot to put up flyers for their gigs, and he said they’re having a pretty big house party,” Harry shrugs as he pulls the wrapper off his taco, slathering it with sauce before taking a massive bite.

I make a face as I watch him eat, and he reaches out to pinch my hip - eliciting a squeal from me.

“You don’t have to eat it like a starved animal, you know? It’s not going anywhere,” I tease with a wink as I bite into a piece of my chicken quesadilla. “But a house party sounds fun. Do you need me to pick you up later once you’re ready to leave it?”

“You know I’m not going to be drinking,” Harry says, pausing to take a sip of his Baja Blast. “I can just call an Uber or I can walk.”

“Harry,” I tilt my head to the side. “You know I don’t mind giving you rides, right? It lets me spend more time with you.”

I notice that Harry pauses on eating for a moment as he looks down at his feet before he speaks. “I don’t know. I just feel like a burden sometimes since I don’t have my own car.”

“Hey,” I place my food to the side for a moment, and I take his food from him to do the same before I place his hands in mine - giving them a squeeze. “You will never be a burden to me. Never. Do you understand?”

Harry purses his lips to the side, and I raise my eyebrows as if to enunciate my statement again. His shoulders deflate before he gives me a soft nod which causes me to smile.

“Good, glad we cleared that up,” I tell him as I start in on my food again. “Are they going to come and pick you up from here?”

He doesn’t answer me right away as he leans against the counter, pondering as he chews the bite he just took from his taco. “Why don’t you just come with me?”

“I don’t know, H,” I squirm slightly at the thought of being around people I’m not familiar. “It’s not like these people even have any idea who I am. They’ll probably think it’s weird if I just turn up with you.”

“Well, if they said something about it, then we’d leave,” Harry’s eyebrows narrow as he holds my eyes. “I wouldn’t want to be around those types of people anyway.”

I glance over at the clock to see he has about two hours left of his shift. “How about I think about it? I’ll just hang out until you’re done - that way I can take you anyway, yeah?”

Harry sends me that boyish grin of his that here recently has sent my heart fluttering, and he reaches over to dip one of his chips into the cheese before he’s extending it out to me. I roll my eyes playfully at him as I lean forward - capturing the chip between my teeth before letting it fall back onto my tongue.

“I think that sounds like a plan,” he tells me.

The sound of someone entering behind me causes me to come back to reality, and I immediately leave the main area of the store to head into one of the side rooms. I wasn’t even sure if the organization in here was the same as it used to be, but I just had to get away from that counter for a moment.

I spent so many days just sitting on top of that while I would watch Harry work, and half the time I’d be helping him get his stuff done so we could get out faster. All we cared about back then was playing music in my garage, so we always tried to get him out of the store as quickly as possible once his shift was through.

As I approach the section of shelves that was strictly for 80’s records, I decide that’s as good of a place to start as any. I begin to flip through the records while nibbling on the inside of my cheek as I do so.

I pull a few out that I know I’d be more than happy to have before continuing my way through the room. My attention gets caught for a moment by a blonde girl exiting out of the employee only room, and I can tell she’s heading back up towards the front while adjusting her clothes.

It’s only a few seconds later that I catch another body exiting the same room, but I keep my back slightly turned to them as I continue to sort through the vinyls.

Just as I’m about to grab a Talking Heads album, my attention is stolen once more by the sound of a high-pitched giggle, followed by a single name.

“Harry!”

I can’t help but flash my eyes over to the counter since I’ve made my way back towards that area, and I see Harry’s body wrapped around the girl I had seen just a few seconds ago.

“Stop it - you’ve already had me away from the customers for the last fifteen minutes,” the girl continues to laugh, acting as if she were trying to push him off of her, but it’s obvious she’s loving the contact from him.

Knowing I need to get out of here, I go to set the records down that I had in my hand, but I’m caught off guard by a gasp, and I can see the girl looking past Harry’s shoulder at me.

“Holy shit!” Harry is quick to look over his shoulder to see what she’s on about, and I watch his expression harden once he sets his sights on me. “You’re Marlowe Finch!”

The girl unravels herself from Harry, and she walks over to me with a large smile. I clear my throat when I realize I’m going to have to interact with her. Clearly she’s a fan, and I don’t want to come across as rude. My issue is with Harry - not her.

“Uh, hi, that’s me,” I nod, forcing a smile of my own.

“I was so bummed that I missed your show a few weeks ago, but this one was sick,” she gestures her thumb over her shoulder to Harry before crossing her arms over her chest. “So I stayed home too so I could be on standby, in case he needed me.”

I soon realize that he obviously lied to this girl about where he was that night considering he was very much at my gig, and not at home sick. He sends me a look, one that I quickly interpret as a warning, but all that does is cause me to get a bit angry.

“Funny seeing you here, Harry,” I say, raising an eyebrow at him. “Do you still work here too?”

The girl looks between the two of us for a moment - confusion etched on her face. “Wait, you guys know each other?”

Harry walks to stand behind the blonde after hearing that question, and I stifle a laugh at the fact that he hasn’t even talked about me once to her.

“Harry and I used to be best friends up until a few years ago.”

“What the hell?” She lifts her hand to hit the back of it lightly against Harry’s chest. “How come you’ve never told me this?”

I can’t lie and say that it doesn’t hurt to know that he really does just forget that I ever existed in his life. I’m actually a bit envious of him at the same time though. I wish I had the capability just to block out years of memories that I no longer wanted.

Harry remains silent, but the girl doesn’t wait for him to respond before she speaks again. “Well, I’m Rylan,” she says, extending her hand to me which I shake. “Are you staying in town for long?”

“Just moved back actually,” I nod. “I plan on being here for some time since I just finished up my tour, and I’m starting to work on my new album.”

“Oh, that’s so exciting! We should totally hang out sometime since you’re going to be sticking around.”

I can see the annoyance written all over Harry’s face as Rylan continues to ramble, and I send him a slight smirk. The one thing he wants to avoid, he simply can’t - all due to the fact his girlfriend is currently making over me.

“Well, if Harry still has my number, it’s the same, so…” I trail off with a shrug, and Rylan claps her hand.

“I can’t believe I’m going to be hanging out with you. I feel like I'm in a dream right now,” she shakes her head before seeing the records I didn’t get a chance to put down. “If you’re all set, I can ring those up for you.”

“Sure.”

Rylan takes the vinyls from me, and she turns her back towards both Harry and I to walk towards the counter. As I walk past Harry, we allow our eyes to run over each other before I’m looking back ahead to properly check-out. I can still feel his sight on me as I hand my card over to Rylan who’s bagging up my records. She extends the bag to me over the surface - a large smile on her face.

“It was nice to meet you, Marlowe. Hopefully we can all hang out soon. I’m sure you and Harry have a lot to catch up on.”

For some reason, that simple phrase causes a knot to grow in my throat, and I force a smile. “Yeah, I bet. See you around.”

Turning towards the door, I keep my head down as I walk past Harry, and once I’m outside, I let out a breath that I didn’t even know I had been holding in. I quickly get in my car, and I’m thankful that I had parked facing away from the windows of the building as I place my records in the passenger seat. I stare blankly at my steering wheel as I take a minute to gather myself.

This was a mistake. I should’ve never moved back here.

I should’ve just planted roots somewhere else given my parents had moved, but I just felt so drawn to come back here. This was the place that gave me inspiration to start music in the first place, and I figured it would be good to write my first album here. It seems that now I was terribly mistaken. The thought of having to worry about seeing Harry everywhere I go will eventually take its toll on me. All of my years of therapy will be washed down the drain.

After taking a few more moments to collect myself, I start my car, and I head off in the direction of the art gallery I had looked up earlier today to try to get my mind off this whole encounter.

●・○・●・○・●

It had been a few days since running into Harry at the record store, and mentally, I was doing better with it than I thought I was going to. I expected my mind to race once I laid down in bed that night, but that didn’t happen. Thankfully, I distracted myself with hanging up the new art I got while playing a couple new records, and I think that helped get my mind off of it.

Kailey had texted me earlier today and asked if I wanted to go out for a few drinks later, and I agreed. I had seen her a couple times since I got back, mostly because she came over and helped me with a lot of the painting I did in my house, but this was going to be the first time that we were actually going out.

It’s exciting to me, to be honest. Yes, I’ve been traveling and going out here and there for the past few years, but I haven’t really gone out with a friend in so long - not since I left.

I went for a rather simple look tonight - just a pair of ripped black skinny jeans, a cropped white tee and my leather jacket. Of course, my platform boots were on my feet.

Since it was a little up in the air how much we would end up drinking tonight, I decided to order myself an uber, and I made sure I had my cards, keys and phone before heading out the door. I only had to wait a couple minutes for my Uber to arrive, and as I got into the back seat, Kailey sent me a text to tell me she was on the way as well.

I’m hoping that by going out tonight that it gives me a better outlook on deciding to move back to LA. After the encounter with Harry, it did have me questioning everything, even though I didn’t spiral as bad as I thought that I would. I’ve managed to keep up a pretty good relationship with Kailey, despite being gone, so I’m more than hopeful that we’ll fall back into our old ways.

I know that I have my band, and Lys, but it’ll be nice to feel like I have close friends again.

I pull up to the agreed location just a few minutes after getting in the car since it’s not too far from my house, and I step inside. I’m looking around for Kailey, but I don’t see her yet, so I decide to make my way to the bar to go ahead and order a drink.

As I’m waiting behind a few people, I see the door open again out of the corner of my eye, and I see Kailey.

“Kailey!” I call over to the noise of the music, and I watch her eyes wander around for a moment before they settle on me.

She smiles wide, and waves her hand high in the air before she starts to make her way over to me. Once she reaches me, we wrap our arms around each other in a big hug, and I let out a small sigh at how nice it feels to have contact with someone like this. It wasn’t too common for me these days.

“How are you?” I ask as we move up a bit towards the bar, both of us with our arms now crossed over our chests.

“I’m good, just got off of work, and I came straight here. How about you? Did you finally get everything settled at the house?”

I nod, feeling a sense of pride that I have gotten myself all situated. “I did, actually. I picked up a few more art pieces earlier this week to fill some empty space on the walls that I had, but I think everything is officially in place. You’ll have to come over for dinner and a movie night sometime.”

“Oh, I’d love that!” Kailey exclaims with a toothy grin. “It’ll be just like old times.”

Eventually it’s our turn, and I order myself just a Coors Light to start. Kailey orders herself a beer as well, and then we head towards a high-top table tucked into the corner - having it be a little more secluded in the busy little bar.

“I know you’ve been super busy with the house, but have you had a chance to get out a little bit? There’s a lot that’s the same, but a lot that’s different,” Kailey says as she takes a sip of her drink.

“The day I picked up the art pieces was actually the first day I was able to do that,” I wrap both of my hands around my cool glass - tapping my fingertips against it lightly. “Went to the art gallery, but I went to the old record store before that.”

Kailey pauses her attempt at another sip at my words, and she lowers her glass back down onto the table. “You did, did you?”

“Yeah,” I sigh, shaking my head. “Saw Harry.”

Kailey’s eyes widen at my words. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah, and well…that wasn’t the first time I saw him. I forgot to tell you, but I also saw him at my show.”

She stares at me for a moment with a slack jaw before she shakes her head. “Okay, wow,” she clears her throat, actually taking a large sip of her beer afterwards. “And how were both of those run-ins?”

I purse my lips to the side as I try to decide how to answer her. “Pretty unfortunate, to say the least,” I laugh sadly. “He caught me after my gig, and he pretty much just said he wanted to confirm it was me, but that he still wants to act like I don’t exist. The other day when I saw him at the record store, he was all over some girl. Rylan was her name, I think?”

“Yeah, Rylan,” Kailey rolls her eyes. “She’s something.”

“You know her?” I ask, eyebrows narrowing as I take another sip of beer.

“She hangs around with Mikey’s group of friends, and I’ve run into her a couple of times at his parties. Her and Harry have been together for a little bit from what I’ve heard,” she shrugs. “She’s younger though - 22, I think? Fucking loves to party it seems.”

“I thought you hadn’t really seen Harry.”

“Over the past few months he’s been turning up more with her, but before that I only saw him those couple times I told you about. Did he talk to you the other day at the store?”

I shake my head. “Didn’t utter a fucking word. Rylan was fangirling over me, and he just stood there…glaring. I’m sure it had to eat him up that his girlfriend was losing her mind. She wants to hang out with me too.”

Kailey throws her head back with a laugh. “I’m sorry, Marlowe, but oh my god. The poor girl is actually clueless, isn’t she?”

“It seems so. He lied to her about being at my gig. Apparently she wanted to go, and he told her that he was sick, so she stayed home in case he needed her.”

“Wow,” Kailey lifts her glass and extends it towards me. “I think we can cheers to a big ol’ ‘fuck Harry’, am I right?”

I can’t help but chuckle as I lift my glass - clinking it against hers. “You’re right.”

She hums as flails her hand in the air, as if she’s brushing the subject matter of our current conversation away. “But enough about that asshole. How’s the album coming along?”

“To be honest with you? It isn’t,” I run a hand through my hair. “I haven’t really had any inspiration hit me lately, and I know I have a meeting coming up with my label soon. I’m a bit stressed. They’re going to expect an anticipated release date, and I’m not going to be able to give that to them.”

“Well your manager, Lys, right?” I nod as she continues. “I’m sure she’s going to rally for you. She’ll make sure you get all the time you need in order to create what you want, and to put something out that you’re proud of. Don’t let them pressure you into a deadline.”

“Yeah, it’s just…it’s not a good look that this is my first album, and I can’t even get my head on straight to properly get to work on it. I’ve just been so busy with the move, but now that I have my studio set up, I’m hoping it’ll be easier to get some material together.”

“You’ve got this,” Kailey nods. “Your song writing has always been stellar, and you can come up with melodies at the drop of a hat. It’s going to all work out.”

She reaches across the table to wrap her hand around my wrist - giving it a squeeze of reassurance as we share a smile between the two of us.

Our conversation continues on, and eventually we order ourselves another round of beers. At one point, my phone lights up on the table, and I look down to see Harry’s name. My eyebrows narrow, and I swallow harshly as I stare at it. I was in need of a cigarette anyway, so I figure that answering it won’t be too much of an issue.

I can’t tell you why I’ve kept his number saved all these years. It was something I always wanted to bring up in therapy, but I never did. I guess there was a part of me that still wanted to know I could contact him in some way, if I needed to. I had also convinced myself that he probably had a new number, and the contact in my phone was just a placeholder of what used to be.

“I’m going to step out and take this call and have a smoke. I’ll be right back,” I tell Kailey as I stand up, and she gives me a thumbs up while taking a large sip from her glass.

Heading outside, I answer the phone, and I hold it between my ear and my shoulder as I pull a cigarette from my pack - placing it between my lips as I struggle to get my lighter out as well. “Hello?”

I can hear music coming through the speaker, but I don’t hear anyone speaking as I light up my cigarette. Giving it a few minutes, I roll my eyes as I lean against the building, taking a long drag before pulling the stick from my mouth.

“Harry, if you’re talking I can’t hear you.”

It’s silent again for a few seconds, and as I’m going to place my cigarette back between my lips, he speaks. “You just had to come back, didn’t you?”

I pause, the filter almost to my mouth as my face contorts. “What?”

“You heard me, Marlowe,” his words are slurring, and I close my eyes when I realize he’s extremely drunk. “You just had to fucking come back here.”

I’ve never been around Harry drunk, therefore I’ve never known what he could sound like, but right now he sounds even less like my Harry than ever before.

“Well, it is my hometown,” I scoff before taking another drag.

“Did you come back here just to torture me for leaving your stupid little band?”

I blow out smoke towards the sky before I answer him. “It wasn’t just my band, Harry, it was ours. But no, I wanted to spend some time at home. I haven’t really been able to within the past three years.”

“Why?” Harry chuckles darkly into the phone. “You don’t have anyone here anyway. Your parents have moved - no siblings.”

I bite down on my bottom lip as Harry brings up my relationship with my parents. He knows they love me, but he also knows we’re not very close. They’ve been to a few of my shows here and there, and they’ve made it clear they’re proud of me. That’s all I can really ask for.

“Thanks for that,” I try to keep my cool - playing up my sarcasm to cope with his comment. “I had completely forgotten my family dynamic.”

“I’m just saying, there’s not a single person who truly wants you here.”

“That’s funny,” I mumble around the filter of my cigarette. “Because I’m actually out for drinks with Kailey as we speak.”

It’s silent again, but I continue to hear the muffled music in the background, so I know he’s still there.

“Okay, I’m hanging up now, Harry. This call is absolutely pointless.”

“Just one more thing before you go,” Harry’s voice holds a tone that I’ve never heard before.

I wait.

“I left the band because I couldn’t stand being around your stuck up attitude. You’re so fucking full of yourself, Marlowe. So fucking selfish,” he spits, and my lips part at the harsh words he casts my way. “You going solo like you did just proves you were going to use us, and then leave us out to dry once you made it. I couldn’t stand being in the same room with you anymore because of how you were acting - how you’re probably still acting.”

I can’t even find the words to respond to what he’s just said to me. Never in my life has he spoken to me in such a way, or said such hurtful things - things that he has to know aren’t true. As much as I want to prove that to him, I know in the end it’s pointless.

This Harry doesn’t want explanations or reasoning. This Harry is already set in his ways and his thinking. Arguing with him would be like arguing with a brick wall.

“You’re talking out of your ass right now, and you’re clearly drunk,” I toss my cigarette to the ground, snuffing it out with the toe of my boot. “I’m actually going to hang up now. Don’t call me again. Goodbye, Harry.”

My hands shake as I hang up my phone - slipping it into the back pocket of my jeans. I suck in a deep breath as I drop my head back to rest against the brick behind me.

As much as that call should upset me even more, I think it’s not because I’ve actually come to the realization now, more than ever, that Harry is not the same person. He will never be again. I’ve already mourned who he used to be. I’ve already worked through that trauma to a point where I feel comfortable dealing with the little bit that still remains.

That man on the phone was not someone who used to be my best friend. He’s a complete stranger.

I let out a deep breath before making my way back into the bar, and Kailey sends me a smile. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, that was Harry.”

“Come again?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Can we just get some shots?” I laugh, and she nods as she pushes herself up from the table.

“Oh, I’m about to get you two back to back,” she says, guiding me to sit back down. “I’ll be just a minute.”

My eyes follow Kailey as she pushes through people to make her way back to the bar, and I fiddle with my fingers on top of the surface in front of me.

I have to come to terms with the fact that I’ll probably be seeing a lot of Harry now, especially if what Kailey said is true about Rylan hanging out with people who Mikey knows. Maybe it’ll end up being a good thing - it’ll be the true closure I need to just lay it all to rest. It was already seeming to be going in that direction anyway.

It’s only a few minutes later that Kailey is back with a small serving tray with two more beers and a total of four shots.

“We’re getting drunk,” she tells me as she sets everything down. “And we’re not going to talk about that dickhead anymore.”

We each grab a shot glass and raise it in the air. “Fuck Harry Styles,” I say, repeating her cheers from earlier, but adding his last name to it - to really feel it.

Kailey smirks as she nods.

“Fuck Harry Styles.”

●・○・●・○・●

A/N: If you'd like to see what I picture Kailey and Rylan to look like as well, I've included their pictures below! Thank you so much for reading, and I'll see you all very soon for the next one.

Kailey

Rylan

●・○・●・○・●

Taglist: @daydreamingofmatilda @prettygurl-2009 @ghoststyles @lillefroe @gem1712 (if you’d like to be added to my taglist, please send me a DM!)

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cherry-titz · 6 months

Text

Hi friends! @1800titz here. This is my contribution to the collaboration, and I’d like to start off by saying that I am so, so, so beyond excited to work with the immensely talented @cherryjuiceblues!! Thank you for working with me Soph :’)

We have loads of goodies planned, and we’d like to kick things off with Mr. Hitchhikerry. (Sidenote: he’s a little late to the party, this WAS supposed to be a spooky piece for Halloween but SHDJDJCJDJD don’t worry about it. Life got in the way a bit, but he’s finally HERE so WOOOO). A little idea based on this reddit post. This one has great big warnings. DARK HARRY. VERY DARK HARRY. With a piece like this, I want to really emphasize: this is purely for entertainment purposes, and there is 0 correlation intended to the real Harry Styles <3 just a spooky faceclaim.

With that disclaimer out of the way, here’s some content warnings: dom/sub themes, choking, (light) spanking, degradation (and praise!) ((some good ol’ LET’S PLAY SIMON SAYS)). THE WOOF WOOF is for humiliation purposes only <3 GREAT BIG WARNING FOR A DISTURBING CONFESSION OF INTENT TO HARM.

Also, I writhe in my seat as I write, wanting to put in lengthy context of prediscussion and safewords and aftercare and everything important I always talk about, BUT. You’ll see. He’s an …interesting character and I tried to keep hitchhikerry true to himself.

PLEASE DON’T HOOK UP WITH STRANGE MEN YOU PICK UP ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD AT NIGHT. PLEASE DON’T PICK UP STRANGE MEN ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD AT NIGHT. Enjoy ٩(◕‿◕)۶ (WC is 11K)

She doesn’t do hitchhikers.

Not figuratively, not literally.

Y/N was raised outside of the scope of the seventies, post-Bundy and his hitchhiking antics, and since the evolution of serial-killer lore, she’s never been fond of a stranger hopping into her passenger seat and then cutting her up into itsy-bitsy parts to hang around his back garden like string-lights, or something. An ear there, a palm with crooked fingers there. Morbid stuff.

Y/N doesn’t do hitchhikers, but she doesn’t think about that, hurtling down some back-country road, a poorly lit vale through a field of tall, boundless grass. It’s not the first thought budding behind her skull when she sees his silhouette through the shone of her pearly brights — a blip by the line of tall shrubbery — even a good distance away. And from her distance, he’s just a little blip in a cream, hoodless sweatshirt, feet planted into a bed of patchy grass. Her first sane thought, as she squints through her windshield, has to do with why someone would be out on this road, at this time of night, with no feasible form of transportation, and how. As her Honda nears and passes some fork off, a dirt bend of clearing into the winding field of nature, the man’s hitchhiking, signature thumb morphs into a wave of his arms, and his foot steps out, toying at the edge of the road. It doesn’t quite breach the threshold, but her speedometer decreases enough for her to catch baggy denim, distressed at the knees, and a slow wave of his arms, raised. He doesn’t launch at her car, forlorn, as she passes — thank Christ. But even then, his frame swishes by, out of sight, coated by darkness. She casts her gaze to the rear-view, and the image of him scrubbing over his face with an exasperated palm shrinks in size the further she gets.

The young woman gets about a hundred feet before she nudges the break with her foot to a halt, sighing as the car settles with a subtle lurch. She makes another glance to the rear-view. Now, she can’t see him, not in the shroud of night, but she squeezes her eyes shut for a second, and then twists the wheel until the car curves. A tire slips off onto gravel and grass with the U-turn, but she steers herself back onto the road and drives into the same direction she’s just come from.

He looks surprised to see her reverse, form pivoted toward the same headlights that’d just passed him with a crease over his brow bone. Y/N slows and breaks as she nears, absent-mindedly pressing a fingertip over the lock button on her door. TV Girl is still playing quietly from her car speakers when she cracks the window, stopped beside him across the road, and beckons with her chin raised just enough for her cadence to seep through the opening, “Do you need help?”

“Yes, yeah, I—“ the man makes a quick glance towards the side of the road where vehicles would be incoming, a sharp turn of his chin, and then a step towards her parted window as Y/N twists over the volume toggle. “I just— my car broke down,” he raises an arm and points towards the dirt clearing that slips into the field, “I was coming this way, and my phone’s died—“

He pauses, shaking his head down at his converse, his voice a baritone croon with charming, foreign dialect, “I know this is so odd, and you probably don’t want a stranger in your car. But f’you could just order an uber or something, I could give you the cash for it?” the girl watches his ring-clad palm disappear into the front pocket of his denim hastily, only to retrieve a wallet, “—If that’s alright?”

Y/N doesn’t do hitchhikers.

And still, her pupils rove over the charming stranger, trailing from his soft dark curls, swiping over his lashes as his head ducks, down the slope of his nose, to the cushiony pink of his lips. Irises graze down his neck and catch a white tee under the collar of his cream pull-over, and they brush down his denim, to his battered, white converse. The young woman watches his hand stretch out, cautiously, a wad of neatly folded cash cupped by pads of fingers with short, yellow-lacquered nails.

“No, don’t— …I can give you a ride,” Y/N tells him, her tone soft as her gaze wanders over his frame.

A downward shift plucks at the corner of his plush mouth and his jaw flexes, a hesitant look shaping over his features, “It’s— I couldn’t— s’like a thirty minute drive, and I don’t wanna take you out of the way…”

His large hand is still stretched out toward her, and she admires the cross inked over the back of his hand, on the fleshy area between his thumb and forefinger. Her brows pinch together, and the window whirs as the glass partition sinks. The girl raises her hand and points back with her thumb.

“Are you going in that direction?”

Wordlessly, the attractive stranger nods — a single dip of his chin.

“I’m going that way, too. I can give you a lift.”

Another look of hesitancy flits over the curly-haired stranger’s face, a soft, dubious touch to his facial features. He purses his strawberry mouth.

“If you’re sure.”

Y/N doesn’t do hitchhikers.

And still, she slips her hand over the unlock button, and the doors click to signal unshuttering as the man culls his wallet and stuffs the cash back in, sticking that back into his jeans. She watches him wind around her car, his gait trailing behind, and her eyes follow his side profile, bathed in the red of the brake lights, through the rear-view. The passenger door slips open. She rolls her window the rest of the way up.

“Thank you,” the man tells her in his low baritone, raking fingers through his curls as he slides into the seat beside her and shuts the door.

He smells heady and fresh — expensive. But it’s not overpowering, by any means. A blend of tantalizing notes; cologne blotted in increments that mesh well with his natural musk. The pleasant scent is the first thing she notices when he climbs into her vehicle. The second is the sculpt of his side profile — lengthy lashes over the crest of his cheekbones, his nose, a plush, pink mouth, a stray curl splayed over his forehead. He’s a little older than her, at least by a handful of years; there’s this innate, aged quality to him, and she can witness it in the shape of his features, in the soft dusting of stubble over his jawline. Y/N catches glimpses of his side profile discretely as the music track shifts, eyeing the bob of his Adam's apple as he cranes his neck back against the headrest. The screen over the center console reads 1:02 AM.

“Long night?”

It’s a shit attempt at small talk, but the young woman turns the wheel in her palms, hopeful that the man is interested in something more than an awkward silence, sparsely filled with the mellow keys of electronic-indie leaking from the speakers. She heard him expel a breath more than she sees it in her peripherals, and as the car embarks on another U-turn, he tells her, with laughter suffusing his cadence, “Yeah. Yeah, s’been a long night.”

She does make out that he pivots a bit towards her, and his tone is earnest when he says, “But it’d be a little longer without you, I think. Thank you, again. Feels like I can’t say it enough.”

Her mouth quirks softly. The young woman keeps a haphazard left hand on the wheel, vision bouncing from the poorly illuminated road ahead and the phone in the cupholder. The LED display lights alive as she swipes her thumb over the lockscreen and toggles onto the maps app, cueing him by nudging the electronic in his direction.

“Um. If you could just type in the directions— I’m sort of shit in these parts, to be honest.”

She casts a brief gaze toward him and sees a soft divot pinch into his cheek as the corners of his mouth crook up. His fingertips, warm and rough — calloused — brush over the back of her hand with the handoff, and then his thumbs are working over the screen before an address and a winding blue line of directions with an eta of thirty-four minutes teems the screen.

“Hi, by the way,” the man says in his honey-smooth cadence, “My name’s Harry.”

“Hi,” Y/N grins, shooting a bashful glance into the attractive stranger — Harry’s — direction, before fixing her irises up ahead. “I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N,” the man parrots — God. She could listen to him drone on about the most monotonous topics in that voice. He doesn’t. Instead, he uses that same timbre again to say, “S’a pretty name.” And she has to ignore the flurry of butterflies that swarm her innards at the entirely innocuous compliment and the heat that suffuses her cheeks. “Are you from around here?”

“Ish. Sort of,” she slows at a curve through the field. Her brows pinch, “I mean, I’ve lived here for a bit now, but I moved from Oregon.”

“Oregon? That’s sick. Any particular motive?”

Y/N lifts a subtle shoulder, because there isn’t. She pauses before she answers. “Dunno. Just needed a change of scenery.”

Harry twists the ring over his pinky and nods down at the motion, lips pursed with intrigue, “Adventurous.”

The young woman’s mouth crooks, because he’s, evidently, from the opposite hemisphere.

“That’s admirable,” the man motions with his chin.

Her mouth is still smiley when she rounds another curve, in the opposite direction, and mirrors his dialogue, “What about you? Any motive?”

“My motive?” his inflection is cheeky and playful, “You don’t think I’m a native?”

The girl makes a wry sound of amusement; an obvious inclination of disagreement. The handsome man grins, all raspberry-tinted lips and friendly teeth. “Just …visited, and never wanted to leave,” he declares with little expansion on the topic. Simple, short, sufficing.

There’s a little moment of lull between them when she straightens the car out and the track slips into the chorus.

Harry shifts in the passenger seat and asks, in that same deep timbre she could sink into and drown in, “Where are you headed from?”

Where is she headed from? Y/N blinks at the road ahead, digits flexing over the steering wheel. Truth be told, it’s a late hour to be out and about, especially in this deserted neck of the woods. Every cozy little farmhouse in these plains, distant beyond the fields of grass, has lights off. No other car passes.

“I was on a …date,” the young woman tells him.

Harry nods and swivels in his seat to face her a bit. “Good date?”

Y/N pauses, the fragments of the story rolling around behind her skull. And truth be told, …it wasn’t a very good date. But it wasn’t a date to begin with. In all honesty, she’s not about to tell this attractive stranger that she’d driven forty minutes for a routine hook-up with an old tinder match, only to be stood up outside his door.

He was a character whose path happened to cross with hers for purely carnal purposes, and their flings were like rolls through seasons, rendezvous blotted into her timeline where either had a smidge to make room. She’s not going to talk about that. It’s piteous, basically. The young woman doesn’t risk side-eyeing him. This man seems like he’s well off in that department, and she doesn’t want to discuss her shit intimate life and the way that Cody decided, last minute, that he was more interested in going out for miller lites with his buddies than entertaining the idea of sleeping with her.

He didn’t even have that impressive of dick game anyways — that’s the brutal candor. It wasn’t that he had this particular lack of satisfaction guarantee, but the sex was okay. It didn’t tick all the boxes or leave her fulfilled, not in the real sense, but it was sex, and it was decent. Maybe the most brutal part is the way she’d driven all the way to see him, even knowing that the sex wasn’t going to be top notch.

Apparently, her silence stretches too long, and the pause gives away the answer she mulls tactics over hiding.

“Bad date,” the girl hears from beside her — it’s in this thoughtful sort of way, like Harry’s slotting puzzle pieces together in the lull.

Y/N shifts her fingers over the wheel, the sound of skin sliding over leather meshing with the starting notes of a Cage the Elephant track. Her thumb toggles over a button on the wheel. She skips it.

“No,” the girl responds, eventually, but she doesn’t even sound fully convincing to her own ears. There’s this high note to her cadence, and she hears it in her own waver of honesty. She wants to cringe up, a little, at the sound. “Not …bad. Just. Well, you know. What about you?”

For the first time since she’d gotten back onto the road, Y/N casts her gaze to him. A glimpse, a twist of her chin, enough to take in his side-profile for a smidge of a second, more in a way to incite switching the topic and pivoting the point of conversation than the inconspicuous stare she’d made appreciating his features. The corner of his plush mouth curves up, and he makes a little sound; a puff of air through his nostrils like he’s bridling mirth.

“Was my date bad?” Harry says, in this playful sort of way. Like he’s teasing her.

“No— your— whatever you—”

Y/N huffs. She rolls her shoulders back against the seat, a heat teeming over her cheeks. Why was she so nervous? Why did he make her so nervous? Harry makes another sound of amusement, the cushion of his lips unsealing to display straight white teeth.

“I was at a friend’s,” Harry expands, opting to stop drawing out the teasing, enough for Y/N’s shoulders (that’d grown rigid) to relax a little against the seat. “Was actually having a good night, believe it or not. And then, you know.”

Unfortunately, she does know. He’s sitting in her car, after all.

“Do you know what went wrong with it?” she ponders.

“Well,” Harry the pads of his fingers over the door, and it takes every fiber in her not to sneak a glance at the motion, not to admire the yellow polish, washed with darkness, dim in the car, “the check engine light was on for a bit, to be honest. But— no,” the man pauses with a little simper, shooting her a glance, “Cars aren’t my specialty.”

They talk about loads of things — she learns all about his friends and the sort of outing they’d had (game night it’d been, Uno, and he’d beckoned her opinion on a debate that’d arisen — whether a draw four could be stacked onto a draw two). That had spawned another conversation on card games —

(“Is it like Go Fish, then?”

“No,” she snorts, “not at all.”

“Not at all?”

“There’s a board and it’s— more complicated.”

“There’s a board,” Harry parrots, shifting with his elbow brace on the center console like an armrest, “And it’s just, like. Cards, like, in a deck of cards?”

“You’ve never played cribbage?” Y/N repeats in disbelief.)

She learns about his job, and his cat, and his collection of vintage vinyls. He’s amiable, and he answers every question she directs his way with this smooth sort of charm. He’s easy to talk to, and the span of the drive cuts shorter and shorter through intriguing conversation. But she leads the way for the majority of the inquiries.

It’s not until they’re at the halfway mark before he asks his own, rather than redirecting one of hers.

“Can I ask you something?” Harry drums his fingertips over the plush of his mouth, and Y/N struggles to fix her eyes back onto the road once she’s spared him a glance.

It takes her a second to hum out an agreement, too.

“It was a bad date, wasn’t it?”

The girl expels a breath and drums her fingers over the wheel, casting her gaze onto the screen of directions.

“It wasn’t even a date,” she confesses, “he was like—“ she blinks, lashes fluttering as exasperation at the reminder leaks through, “A tinder hook up, and we didn’t even end up hooking up.”

Before he can interject, Y/N tacks on, begrudged, “He wanted to hit the bars with his posse of Mag-con wannabes, instead.”

And then there’s this sort of pause that has Y/N thinking that maybe she’s overshared. The man with the sun-polished nails isn’t an old friend she’s having a gab with, catching up on the phone — he’s a stray man she’s plucked up off some deserted road, and if he judged her for her choices, it’d kind of be justified. Namely, the one where she’d driven out in the middle of the night for impromptu cock.

And anyways, this all feels a bit surreal — the beginnings of a therapy session with a stranger who’d hopped into her sedan for a lift, filling the void of a psychologist in a great, big leather armchair.

Except Harry sounds earnestly disbelieving when he says, “You’re kidding.”

She purses her mouth and readjusts her fingers over the steering wheel. “He sort of …canceled when I was already at his door? Forgot to text me that the plans changed. That’s what he said.”

“What a dickhead.”

“Mm,” Y/N hums.

“He’s a moron for passing up the opportunity,” Harry tells her. It’s not in an awkward way, or anything creepy, either. He’s got this air to him, she finds — an ability to make a comment like with effortless delivery of charm. He’s not even looking at her when he says it, only risking her a brief glance that she catches in her peripherals. She still side-eyes him from her seat in surprise, the edges of her mouth curling up bashfully.

“M’serious,” Harry says, dimples pinching into place beside the upturned-curl of his plush mouth.

And the thing is, Harry is so friendly. He’s kind, and interesting, and despite the way Y/N had assumed allowing for his presence in her car would be the world’s greatest chore, she’s pleased to be in his company.

That’s why she lifts a wry shoulder and tells him, “The sex was bad anyways.”

The man’s face pivots to face her, then. “Yeah?” he coaxes for expansion in his molasses-slow croon of a timbre.

“It was just a little boring.”

“Boring?”

“Not— maybe not boring. Just, you know. There was nothing…” Y/N drums digits over the steering wheel, “I don’t know.”

The man beside her clears his throat.

“Was he a missionary in the dark type of bloke, then?”

“Yes,” she responds, almost instantly. Because missionary in the dark is, perhaps, the best way to describe Cody’s sexual nature. Down to the T, practically. She can’t fathom how many times she’d lay there, hoping he’d switch up into something different, something where his hands weren’t resting shallowly on the bed sheets beside her shoulders, something where his face wasn’t tucked into the crook of her neck, his mouth biting back everything but soft hisses of air as his hips rocked at an mediocrely slow pace.

Harry’s mouth quirks.

“But not even that, it’s like. He wasn’t bad at foreplay, or anything. It wasn’t the best. But, you know. It was all sort of… plain.”

The young woman pauses before she continues with an apathetic, one-shouldered shrug, “And there’s nothing wrong with plain. It gets the job done, and, you know. That’s what some people like.”

There’s a shift in energy, from there. It’s subtle, but Y/N can feel it, and she wonders whether the morph is a one-sided experience. It happens with the honesty of the context, with the way she swears jade winds over her figure from beside, with the rasp of his voice beckoning something playful.

“But that’s not what you like.”

Y/N takes a second to answer. “No.”

“What do you like?”

Maybe that phrase is where it hits her. Where she recognizes that the subtle shift in energy is not one-sided. Not by any means.

Y/N risks a haphazard glance into his direction.

“Not …that,” the girl laughs. It’s a nervous, giggly kind of sound, but it’s not because of him.

It’s different now, she thinks. He’d been so timid at first — all bashful gazes through lashes glimmering under the beam of headlights, hesitancy shaping his features. Friendly dialogue — alluring, but curt in anything beyond friendly. This is different. This is blunt and forward. This is his eyes raking over her, this is his tongue swiping out over the plush of his pink mouth, this is his dimples peeking as the corners edge up.

“What do you like?” Harry asks again, a note of flirty, lighthearted amusement to his smooth cadence.

Y/N sighs, the corners of her mouth tipping up. “I don’t know. Oh my God. Why are you interrogating me?”

Harry laughs. His brows rise, and he tips his chin down so the green sparkles at her. “You don’t know what you like?”

“I don’t know,” she huffs, good natured. And then she gives. “Something… rough. Something exciting. I don’t know, pull my hair, make it hurt a little. Don’t… lay there in the dark and…” her speech morphs into giggles, “Groan into my ear about how tight I am while I’m laying there like a dead fish.”

Y/N doesn’t know how she ends up pulled over in some deserted parking lot. She doesn’t know how her headlights end up off, how the stranger’s hands sew into her hair, how his lips mesh softly with hers, hungrily. Well. She does know, but she doesn’t care about the details in between. Because he’s hot, and he tastes of mint, and the tips of his fingers press into her scalp and tug a little when they brush through, when he slips a palm over the nape of her neck through the work of his cushiony mouth. It’s thrilling, and it’s sexy, and it’s dangerous, she thinks, but that thought becomes clouded and pushed back to the dells of her mind.

“Such a pretty little thing,” Harry murmurs when they disconnect, fingers splaying over her cheeks. Her heart hammers in her chest, and his irises trail after the motion of his thumb, bumpily dragging over the side of her lips, all the way to her cupid's bow. That same pad of his thumb pauses and tugs, drawing her bottom lip down to show the slightly parted seal of her teeth.

And then he’s taking his thumb away and nudging the tips of his index and middle finger, coaxing, “Open your mouth, open your mouth.”

The pads of his digits meet the tip of her tongue and prod in, brushing over her taste buds, until he’s tapping onto the center of the muscle and crooning, “Stick it out. Tongue out for me.”

A little hum escapes her, plucking at her vocal chords when she complies, only for him to trace further with his fingertips and nudge until he strokes the back. He holds them there and makes a little motion with his chin and a soft tut when her irises stay pinned on him, glazing with a sheen of watery protest at the depth of the intrusion.

“Ah— don’t you gag,” he tells her softly, every syllable of every word coated with these notes of dominance that almost seem …innate — like the headspace is a pair of shoes for him to slip into with ease.

It’s filthy, it’s so filthy — this stranger’s fingers in her mouth, this man she’s never seen a day in her life, a complete, nameless stranger, not even an hour prior, prodding into the warm wetness behind her lips. And her, following his aimless direction, just to please him. She doesn’t gag through the way his fingers crook, her tongue twitching and her throat bobbing, her sight growing blurry with the coating of sheen. It’s worth it, immensely, when Harry hisses out a soft curse and groans softly, his brows pinched.

It’s worth it when he takes his fingers away, and Y/N’s jaw is coated with her drool, when her tongue is still out, when Harry says, in this soft, strained voice, like it’s praise, “Christ, you’re a filthy thing.”

She finds that this impromptu rendezvous sort of gives her whiplash. She’s parked in some empty parking lot with her lights off, and an alluring stranger’s just untucked his fingers from her mouth. Maybe someone would deem this a new low — having a shag with some hitchhiker she’s scooped off the side of a back-country road. But he’s eyeing her like she’s prey, and he rolls from one action like pages flitting and flipping in a book, and every detail keeps her on her toes. She can’t keep up. Y/N pants wetly, like she’s not sure whether to slip her tongue back into her strawberry mouth, because she’s not.

Not until he swipes another thumb over the tip of the lax, twitching muscle and beckons, like he’s a little amused, “Aren’t you?”

Slowly, her tongue retreats, and that’s when his hand slips and cups over her throat, and that’s—

Her pulse thunders like it’s straining to beat out from below her skin, and Harry adjusts his grip, that same, wet thumb drawing short, slow lines over the point like he wants to test the race of her heart, like he wants to know that the pattern has skyrocketed since his palm has made homage over her windpipe. The man hums, pupils trailing and lingering slowly.

“Tell me—“ Y/N shifts in her seat, spine straightening out against the cushion, and something wracks down every individual knob when his blown gaze pins her the same way his palm pins over her neck, “Tell me you’re my filthy plaything.”

The press of his hand isn’t harsh by any extent, not until she parts her lips to answer — that’s when he nudges a little firmer. A little harder. He cocks his head at her in this condescending way — like her stifled sound of surprise entertains him, like the subtle, almost unnoticeable jolt of her eyelids, widening, pleases him. Judging by the slight quirk at the edges of Harry’s plush mouth, it does.

Her tummy coils with unanticipated desire. This feels almost scary. This feels like traipsing over a rope, like teetering over dangerous territory, and the sudden spike of adrenaline only has her thighs clenching together harder. Because this is sweet Harry, the friendly hitchhiker, in his cream sweater with his nice smile, and his charming dimples, and his loose, clean curls, with his warm palm cupped over her throat and the pad of his thumb digging into her pulse. He looks fucking hungry.

“I’m—“ her statement’s muzzled by the press of his hand, an increase in only a slight increment. It’s enough to wrest a garbled sound from the back of her throat. He tips his head.

“What’s that?”

“I’m your…” she pauses when he presses harder, again, and this time’s enough to have her feeling lightheaded, her bleary eyes wandering over his face and every muscle of her face battling the light flutter of her lashes. She thinks a dimple peeks from his cheek. Harry lets up.

Y/N siphons breaths like her lungs have been deprived for ages, and not just partly for the timespan of a short fifteen seconds. Still, his palm is glued over the front of her neck — just there. His thumb strokes over her pulse gently.

“I’m your …filthy plaything,” the young woman confesses in this pathetic little voice that’d have her ashamed in every other setting. But in this one, it doesn’t.

Arousal creeps through every fiber of being, instead, crawling through her arteries and settling into her veins like a twisted, dark goo. It thrums through her and sinks through to the trench of her tummy, frothing as chills teem down her back. He’s got this glint in his eye, like a dance around a bonfire in the deep of the night — but it’s just a stray street light that casts its shone as a spotlight when he ducks forward a tad, just enough for it to. When he tips forward, his gaze growing half-lidded, lower and lower the closer he gets, it feels like he starts to siphon every breath from her own mouth as his cushiony lips ghost over her cupid’s bow. Even for the smidge of the second it takes for their mouths to mesh again, it feels like the movement is in ultra slow motion.

The mold of their mouths together, this time, feels a lot less like she’s got her hands on the wheel — the first time had been almost testing, sweet — something soft that’d shifted into something headier, something firmer. This feels like something he guides, something he takes the clear lead in, from the pace of his hungry lips to the exploratory nudge of his tongue against the seam of her own mouth. Her fingers flex over the center console aimlessly, palm straying, and fingertips catching on a part of his cotton sweatshirt. They twist into the fabric softly when Harry’s tongue strokes over her own. A hand settles onto her thigh. It’s not her own.

“Get in the backseat,” he hums into her open mouth, squeezing over her flesh when she doesn’t immediately comply. He’s got this way of dulling her reflexes, crumbling the semblance of her mind to mush, and Y/N is convinced it has more to do with his touch than it has with the time of night, despite the way exhaustion wears at her tired muscles. “Get in the fuckin’ backseat.”

When her arms strays and she reaches for the door handle, though, he squeezes at her thigh again, and hums out a displeased note of disagreement. “Not like that.”

Bemused, Y/N shifts in her seat. A glint of something playful glows in the jade when Harry tells her, “You can find another way, can’t you, pet? Go on.”

Y/N sits in confused silence for all of three seconds before the man sits back a tad and cocks his head, irises flashing towards the backseat with a playful, little grin quirking at his lips. Like he’s suggesting.

It takes her longer than three seconds to clamber into the back from the driver’s seat, through the slot over the center console, but it satisfies Harry, evidently, judging by the way he palms over the globes of her backside through her stretchy mini-skirt. It’s not very graceful, and if she was less aroused she’d probably find it in her somewhere to be a bit embarrassed, but. She doesn’t. She wriggles over the cushion, instead, settling back.

Harry has smarter ideas. He toggles the gear on the side of the passenger seat and sets the whole top of it back, like a makeshift day-bed, and scoots into the back of the sedan through the opening. And there’s not much leg room — not for the two of them, not with the whole back of the seat splayed — and there’s not much room for their heads, either, but they manage to squeeze back, and he’s gripping onto her shoulders and twisting her on his own whim before the young woman has a chance to shift around, herself.

“Get—“ the way Harry manhandles her with a grip on her hips, (once he’s got her slumped, at least somewhat) — with ease, like he’s flipping a page in a book rather than rearranging her whole position in the cramped space of a sedan backseat — that lights something fiery in the pit of her belly. “Hands and knees, baby,” Harry tells her, grunting softly while her limbs scrabble over the pleather. He pulls her back into him, by the hips as she’s physically molded into it, parroting, quieter, “hands and knees.”

“Itsy bitsy skirt… so easy to just—” Harry hums, this sort of mischief to his cadence — and it becomes blatantly obvious, the reason for it, when his digits creep under, from behind, and his colossal palms hitch it up, “Oops.”

She’s wearing tights under it. They’re not the fleece-lined kind, despite the bite of chill in the air outside, but they are there, and Harry spans the pads of his fingers over the barrier like he doesn’t have plans to discard them the practical way.

He doesn’t. The man stripes a fingertip down her core, from behind, over the fabric and the faint hue of cheeky purple that peeks through, and makes this devious sound of mirth when her whole body twitches. And then he draws the same fingertip back up, in the same line, and nudges a bit.

“What am I gonna do with you?” Harry coos. The third, slow drag has her arching her hips back. “Hm? What am I gonna do?” He takes almost a thoughtful second, tongue peeking out to swipe out over the cushion of his pink bottom lip, before Harry splays his palms over her bum, “Pretty girl… pretty arse…”

And it’s so calm — he’s so calm, so casual, so nonchalant — Y/N doesn’t even sense it coming until he sighs, and then he’s digging the tips of his digits into the nylon, stretching it from her core, and just tearing. Casually. Nonchalantly. The sound of fabric ripping apart coaxes her jaw to slip open, and her pupils stick to the inside of the door, unblinking, as he just tears, and tears, and tears.

And she’s not even upset, is the thing. She’s not irritated that this stranger’s just torn the crotch of her tights apart — she can’t be, not when he hums devilishly and strokes over her core, a layer closer. Maybe that’s pitiful. Maybe that’s sad, that she’s so fucking horny that she doesn’t care that her tights have been split open with no prior discourse on the topic, but this direction of impulse — the way she’s not even able to try and guess his next move, it kindles something hot and hungry.

And if she ever has Cody to thank for anything, Y/N thinks maybe it’d be that he’d inspired her to shave and slip on a pair of decently attractive underthings.

“These are pretty, too,” Harry tells her, thumbing at the crotch of the thong, just over one side. The young woman gives this dreamy little sigh and arches back up into him further. “What d’you want, sweetheart? Want me to give some attention …here—“

Her spine jolts when he nudges the pad of his index right up against her clit, lightly, over the purple fabric, “Maybe? Is that it? Eager girl.”

He draws a featherlight circle over it, and then another, and another until her thighs are trembling. The tip of his digit taps. She nudges back, and he takes it away altogether. An amused sound slips from his mouth.

“Say please,” Harry demands.

Y/N jumps as his fingertips trail to her inner thigh, crooking and tickling in the line they draw.

“Please.”

Again, he makes a disapproving tut, and Y/N rolls her cheek onto on a forearm, tucked over the seat.

His eyebrows climb up his forehead, and his fingertips drift up and down the back of her thigh, drawing closer and closer where she needs him most with every lap. Each word is covered with notes of firm dominance. “Not like that. Like you mean it — like you’re pleading.”

Y/N mulls over the words, her heart thundering.

“How d’you beg?”

It takes a second for his words to sink in, but then when they do, she croons out, softer, more desperate, “Please.”

There’s a soft sound of a breath being expelled, the seat crinkling quietly as, she assumes, Harry sits back on his haunches, head ducked. Like it’s not good enough. Her tongue traces out over her lips and she beckons, “Please, please,” each plea prompting a spiral of unfamiliar humiliation — glazed with arousal — to unfurl.

“Please, please, please—“ each word emphasized with a rock back of her hips. And finally, he touches her.

His palm cradles a cheek, and he doesn’t sound even slightly impressed. Instead, his voice comes out exasperated when he tells her, “That’s not convincing. You’re desperate. You want something — you need it, you’re pleading.”

“Please— please—“

“Louder,” he scoffs, “Beg. Beg.”

“Please,” she tries, desperation creasing her voice strained on the syllable, and Harry drags fingertips, airy, across her inner thigh, from bottom to top. “Please, please, please—“

And finally, something clicks. Something slots together, at some point, when she ditches the inhibitions and her cadence starts to border on a delirious sort of desperation. Finally, something works.

“That’s better,” Harry says softly, swiping his thumb over her clit, “Much better.”

She doesn’t pick up on that, though, and she’s still begging, pleading, quietly. Quieter, quieter, quieter — the words growing more sparse the longer he spends time honing on her clit, the firmer his touch becomes.

“Good girl,” Harry coos, his fingertips latching up under the hem at the crotch of her panties, before he tugs, “Good girl. You ask nicely, and I’ll give it to you. S’that easy.”

He slips a thumb against her gushing entrance and drags it down, tracing careful shapes over the bud of nerves, before he tugs down on the hood and emphasizes on the new exposure by reigniting the touch with the thumb on his opposite hand. Two hand task — very dedicated.

“S’this all for me?” the man teases, pinching her clit, lightly, between the pad of his thumb and the side of his index. He sounds a little self-satisfied when he declares, quietly, “I’m flattered.”

Her lips part as a silent, breathy moan wrests from the back of her throat. It happens when the pad of his long middle digit prods at her entrance and nudges in. The thumb on his other hand sweeps, side to side, over where she’d most sensitive, and he stuffs into her further. And they are lengthy — his fingers. She’d seen them drumming over the center console, and smush over the raspberry tint of his lips, felt them coat her tongue, and felt them press against her throat. They can reach further than her own, crooking against her spongy walls, curling when he adds a second before straightening out and scissoring for the stretch.

“Christ, you’re gushing,” Harry says, and as if on cue, the pornographic squelch of his fingers working crowds the cramped space, “Jesus— d’you hear that?”

Y/N buries her face in her arms to muzzle the little sounds of bliss that he pries from her mouth. It’s not until he’s proper fucking into her with his digits, the pad of his thumb dragging tight, little circles over her clit, that those sounds escape her. And when they start, they pour in a flood. Because he works so expertly, so deftly — from the pace, to the angle, to the way he hones on her clit with his other hand, and the filthy dialogue he spews in his honey-smooth baritone. It’s everything, everything, and it prompts the coil in her belly to circle and squeeze, tighter, tighter — a telltale prior to its inevitable snap. She clenches over his fingers helplessly.

But then he just— stops.

The nudge of his digits skirts to a stand-still within her, and his thumb stops drawing circles, and Y/N just squeezes over him like a silent plea. He makes this sound — this mirthy, deviously pleased hum, like her displeasure at his pause amuses him. It’s pure sadism.

It’s not until she rocks her hips a bit, a shallow, desperate kind of back and forth, that the amusement seems to slip from his tone.

“Don’t—“ Harry tuts sharply, taking his thumb off her clit altogether to grip at her hip harshly, “Stay still. Naughty, little minx.”

And she does. She stays still when his voice gets hard like that. There’s a bit of quiet between his snap and the subtle freeze-up of her rocking. Soft breaths sew through the lull, but then he talks again, his tone a little nicer.

“We’re gonna play a little game, yeah?”

That’s …intriguing. Y/N shifts over the cushion. His grasp over her hip has softened considerably, but there’s still this humiliating heat that swarms her face at the fact that the crotch of her panties is still tucked against her skin, that everything’s out in the open, that Harry’s practically ogling in lieu of touching her.

“It’s a bit like Simon Says. Except, when you play Simon Says, you hesitate a little, right?”

The man’s thumb presses back to her clit, and she buries her face in her folded arms.

“And I don’t want you to hesitate. I’ll tell you something to do, and—“

His fingers sink into her, and her shoulders grow tense from the bliss. Y/N muzzles her groan.

“You’ll do it. Sounds easy enough?”

It does. It’s easy enough instructions, and when Harry pats at the same hip he’d been clutching over and beckons, “Hands back here,” Y/N obliges easily enough.

Her cheek presses to the cushion, cool against the warmth teeming beneath her skin, and she lets him manhandle and move her splayed fingers to his liking, arms stretched behind.

“That’s good,” Harry croons in his low timbre, the warm, lewd praise of it drawing chills up the nape of her neck, “Now spread a bit for me.”

Y/N does that, too. Her finger pads nudge and press into her flesh, coated with the tights, and her digits crook as the tips dig in to splay — to follow his direction, to please him. And it’s shameful, a pinch in her shoulders as her arms reach back, fingers twitchy, imprinting into her own backside with little divots as she opens herself up for him to do nothing. But his satisfied little hum sends an unfamiliar sense of accomplishment spiraling through her veins. The way his warm palm rests on and pets over the back of her thigh along with it feeds something new and starving.

“Good girl. There you go. See? S’easy.”

Y/N makes a little sound into the seat, and her fingers flex as Harry pumps his own digits, a steady rhythm of in and out, paired with a hum from him that sounds absolutely pornographic.

“Such a good girl,” the man tells her, fingers crooking, but the praise isn’t enough to muffle the bemusement that wracks her when he says in this devious hush, “Let’s try another. Bark.”

Bark.

It takes a second for the command to register past the immediate threshold of the pleasure curling in her belly as he strokes at her spongy walls. And when it does click together, his word settling past the membrane of bliss, her initial thought is that she’s definitely misheard him. Because that’s …sort of a ludicrous request. The young woman sounds strewn between groggy and muzzled when she cranes her neck a bit over the cushion and beckons with a confused hum.

“Bark,” Harry repeats, “like a dog.” Simple and nonchalant.

Bark like a dog. She’s midway through creased brows, a strained raise of her head, and a baffled what, before the man stills his fingers and takes a grip over her wrist, sliding her hand away.

And then he smacks her, hard, with his palm on one side, in the same place where her digits had dug in to spread herself open.

It’s loud, and it stings, and it sends a shockwave through her nervous system, strong enough to have everything buzzing on alert as her forehead pastes to the seat and the parted gap of her mouth struggles to mute a gasp. Maybe the most surprising part is that the hurt feels good, that the sting morphs into something else as it fizzles and ebs, that the hammer of her heart spikes this famished, unfamiliar arousal coursing through her when he doesn’t even bother stroking over the bruised skin. It’s definitely hard enough to leave a ruddy mark under the tights, and Y/N blinks down at the faux leather, wordless and a little gobsmacked.

And then Harry sighs in this way that’s so …disappointed. And the calmness of his inflection, grouped with the irony of the harsh hit… that has a chill climbing up her spine.

“That’s not how you play the game, pet.”

He says it in this eerily nonchalant note of disdain, like he’s not just casually tattooed the shape of his hand onto her backside with a blow. Like he expected better. Like it’s a little mishap they’ll gloss over. She doesn’t even realize she’s still got a vice clamped over his fingers until he shifts the digits in her, coaxing her core to flutter around him. Harry sighs again.

“Did you forget the rules, baby?” he asks, cadence soft and basked in condescension. The man strokes over the heated skin, the same spot where Y/N is sure a subtle welt has peaked to the surface below the thin veil of the sheer tights, “I tell you to do something and you do it, right?”

Her knees are starting to ache a little, a soreness settling into the joints, but she doesn’t even mind it when his fingers pump again, slowly.

“That’s how the game goes. Right? I need an answer.”

She makes a soft sound. A little sound that’s not protest. A little sound that’s not outright agreement. It’s a whimper into a void, but everything about him and his touch lights something alive in her. And she wants more. She’s dizzy off of it when she manages out a breathless, “Yes.” It’s a short word that comes out in a breath, like she’d been holding the air in her lungs.

Maybe that’s why she’s dizzy.

“Are we on the same page? Let’s try again, then. Bark.”

Y/N shifts over the seat. The hand he’d moved has splayed helplessly to her side, and the fingers curl and uncurl as the weight of the suggestion hits her. Because that’s— it’s humiliating. It’s demeaning, and it’s strange, and the fact that he demands it has the tips of a fire licking up at her insides. The young woman makes an uncharacteristically pathetic noise.

Harry sighs.

The split second of hesitation is enough, apparently, for another slap, just as hard, in the same spot. It has her rocking forward and clenching over his digits again. Harry’s quick to correct her posture with a hand on her hip, guiding her back in a way that lacks gentleness.

“I said, bark.”

This time his voice is harder. Meaner. Y/N gives.

She gives because the tips of his fingers prod at this heavenly spot inside her, because her skin smarts in a way that has her practically drooling, because she’s dizzy, and hungry, and desperate. Her thighs are quivering when she gets out a half-hearted woof, her lips shaping over the word like the task is a chore to get out.

“Better—“ another slap, aimed lower onto the back of her thigh, has her hips jutting and the straight line of her spine twisting up, “—but not what I’m looking for. Try again.”

She doesn’t even aim to please, is the thing, when her yelp overlaps with another smack. But it morphs into something surprised and deliciously pained, and evidently, it’s enough, judging by the way his touch smooths over the stinging skin.

“Oh, baby,” Harry tells her, his fingers stroking like he’s smudging the pink-tinge of bruising, “That’s pathetic.”

And it dawns on her then, that there’s no winning with this game. When he tuts and tells her, absolutely patronizingly, “So desperate for it, she’s barking like a stray.”

It dawns on her that she doesn’t want to win. She doesn’t care, because his filthy dialogue, as demeaning as it is, just draws her wetter and closer. As if to highlight on it, Harry crooks his fingers and tacks on, “You’re leaking all over the seats, pet.”

And she is, she’s sure. It’s a dirty game he plays, and she loves every part of it and more. It has her writhing when he draws circles over her clit, it has her aching for more when he guides her hand back to her backside with a squeeze and a wordless coax to keep spreading.

“Gonna let me fuck you?” Harry pulls the digits out, dirtying what’s left of her tights and smearing sticky wetness over the back of her thigh, “Hm? Gonna let me—“ his belt clinks as he unbuckles it, and then comes the soft sound of a zipper, its teeth unlatching, “—fill you up?”

“Glovebox,” Y/N mumbles, hips shifting back when he pets at her thigh.

His pupils flit, sticking to the back of her head, before they jump back down to his handiwork. Harry’s tone sounds absent-minded and mirthy when he asks, “What’s that?”

“There’s condoms in the glovebox,” she expands, a little louder than her prior murmur, bracing on her forearms to cast her gaze back at him over her shoulder.

And he looks rugged in this boyish, youthful way, then, is the thing. The corner of his mouth jolts, lopsided, and a stray tendril has flopped over his forehead. His hands are on the undone buckle of his belt, and his fly’s down, and he sounds absolutely amused when he says, “Are there?”

There are.

“You’ve prepared for this, then, have you?” Harry sets a palm onto her hip, squeezing as a dimple pinches into his cheek, “Condoms in your glovebox …like a proper dirty whore?”

Coyly, she blinks, cheek nuzzled to the seat, and she watches him stretch his arm out for the glovebox as he knees away.

“I’m always prepared,” Y/N settles on, softly.

The glovebox slips open. There’s rummaging — his torso turns to face it entirely, and then he gleans a shining, golden little packet, tucked between the pads of his digits. The young woman wriggles her hips. There’s this glint of fiery …something. Something playful, something lewd, something hungry in the jade, when he clambers back over, steadying himself with a palm on her tailbone. It coaxes her spine into a pretty, sharper arch.

“You do this a lot, do you?” Harry teases, “Pick up strange men, let them fuck you?”

She hums in agreement as the man takes the little gold square, snug between his teeth, fingers working quickly, pushing buttons through slots and tugging his cock out.

“Maybe I do.”

He tears at the wrapper with his teeth. She knows, because his next words come out a little muffled.

“Is that right?”

It’s not. It’s so out of the norm, so far from the usual, but Y/N would be a masochist to string out the arousal that’d built between her thighs in lieu of letting Harry span his palms over the globes of her ass in the backseat. Harry, with his cheeky smile and his sunshine, short-trimmed nails. Harry, with his denim-tethered bulge dragging over the back of her thigh and his filthy tongue shaping crude dialogue.

She doesn’t see him as he tuts from behind, but she can picture it; his palm cupped over the base of his shaft as he rolls the condom over and then presses the tip against her teasingly.

“Wanted to be fucked like a dirty whore, is that it?”

Her “yes” stretches and ebs and splinters into a whispery hiss when Harry nudges forward and stretches her out. And then he’s beckoning for her hands, one hand splayed over her hip and the opposite coaxing at her shoulder, tugging and jolting in gentle nudges, mouth shaping over firm, “Hands, hands, give me your hands — behind your back— that’s— just like that.”

Barred from scratching at the seats with his firm, warm grip binding the joints hostage, Y/N presses her cheek to the cushion. She slumps into his willpower, gives into him, the smush of her face sweaty on the cushion, jolting with every rock forward. The young woman clenches over him helplessly. Soft sounds slip past her lips, pried out by the nudges of his hips, over and over, again and again. Her fingers stiffen and flex, and the arch in her spine shifts when the head of his cock bumps that delicious ridge so deep in her — and it’s like Harry senses it, the way her entire body grows taut like a string. He goes at that too, prodding, again and again, until a whine plucks at her vocal chords. Every shallow jolt of his hips sends waves of paralyzing bliss licking over her insides. Every nudge forward has her slumping more. And when he talks, Y/N barely registers it over the rush of blood in her own head.

There’s been little things that fall from his mouth — soft curses and hisses as he slides in, hums and groans when he bottoms out, readjusting his grasp over her wrists. Words, though — now he’s saying words. They’re still in that gentle baritone, this sort of luring croon.

“Come on, baby. Come on — got a stranger’s cock in your pretty, little pussy—“ Harry’s voice catches on a strained note as he pulls out—

…A sigh as he rocks back in, “—and …you’re not gonna struggle?”

A warmth stems from his grasp, behind her back, and as if on reflex, her digits crook and flex. The danger of the words don’t even register. Because, yeah, he’s right. She’s got a stranger holding her restrained, rocking up against her, and all that peaks in her at the filthy dialogue is a bud of deranged arousal. She doesn’t shoulder forward though, doesn’t try to pull her hands apart, doesn’t sag forward, not even a little, too concerned that even a minute shift will alter the delicious intensity of the angle.

“Not even a little bit?” Harry tuts, grinding forward, one more time, slow, and then he squeezes over her wrists hard and picks up in pace. Just until he settles into a hard tempo of short, deep thrusts, and her shoulders are aching from the way he pulls her arms back.

His words blanket her with this patronizing sort of humiliation — the kind that has her spongy walls pulsing over his length and chills erupting from the nape of her neck to the creases between her shoulder blades. “You make it so easy.”

So easy for a stranger to fuck her — so easy, pulling over in some desolate parking lot. So easy, letting him wrap a palm over her throat and stick his fingers past her lips. So easy, following his every command for the reward of his hips pummeling against her own.

And it’s easy to get close with the way he works into her, tip bumping into a spot that sends waves of pleasure coursing through every millimeter of her nervous system. The kind that has every muscle stiffening to stone until the wave ebs. It’s so easy to lurch higher and higher, closer and closer, when his touch digs into her joints, rendering her helpless to his crude affections. When strained grunts and sordid words fall from his mouth, when his other hand slips from her hip and knots into the hair, at the roots, on the back of her scalp, only smushing her cheek into the seat with more pressure.

“Fuck,” Harry groans, the pace of his thrusts stuttering as he picks up the tempo into something merciless, his digits flexing into her hair and his body weight sagging onto her frame.

Every time his balls slap against her clit, teasing where she wants that attention the most, she feels the spring draw tighter, lips smushed to and gaping against the seat. And then he readjusts his grip, lets one of her hands free while he keeps the other pinned, and he coaxes, “Touch your pretty clit, baby. Make yourself cum all over my cock.”

Y/N makes it to the crest before he does. It’s her fingertips sloppily winding loose shapes over the bud of nerves, it’s his cock hammering down into her, it’s the pinch in her shoulder, and the way Harry’s grip grows harsher over the hand he still has pinned, the closer he gets himself. The way his digits are still flexed at the roots of her scalp, the way his moans and curses are garbled with pleasure with each pump. The way her helpless fluttering, when she tips over the peak, draws this long, sordid groan from him as he cranes his neck back. And then he slows, ducking his chin to watch below through slow thrusts.

“Dirty girl, cumming all over a stranger’s cock,” Harry swipes with a thumb where the mesh, toying at the seam of her hole when he goes deeper, again, slow.

And then his grip on her wrist gets hard again as his fingers flex, and he holds onto her hip and guides her in a steady-paced, back and forth bounce over cock. He chases his own releases, every motion rough, and full of control, and so brimmed with this unfamiliar hunger. She’s mush by the time his head tips back, and he gushes ribbon after ribbon into the condom. She’s mush when his grasp over her wrist grows lax, when he knees back clumsily on his knees, when he discards the condom, wrapping it into the confines of its wrapper, when he fixes her purple panties back over her crotch and strokes over the back of her thigh with an amused huff.

“Alright?” Y/N vaguely hears Harry say from behind when she doesn’t instantly sit up, his voice bordering on amused.

That’s. Yeah, Y/N thinks. She’s great. There’s still this rush of blood in her ears, and an ache in her joints that interweaves with the soreness of her muscles, but it’s all in such a good way. She makes a barely coherent hum of agreement and rolls her shoulder forward, planting her palms onto the seat to sit up and glance at the time over the display in the front of the car. It’s nearly three in the morning now, and it hits her then, that she’s so tired. She’s so tired, she feels like every piece of her energy had been strewn up and pulled tight on a rope, and now it’s all wasted away.

Harry gets it. Or he seems to, at least. Sleep beckons her with a whispery croon and a soft touch. The corners of his mouth crook up, and he pats at her hip.

“Hop up, pet. D’you want me to drive the rest of the way? S’just a little bit, now.”

Y/N doesn’t do hitchhikers. She doesn’t let strangers into her car in the middle of the night from some empty road, she doesn’t fuck them in the backseat, and she certainly doesn’t let strange men drive her car to some unfamiliar location, only lacking being undisclosed from its visible street name on the GPS. Y/N doesn’t do any of that. But she nods weakly and lets their roles flip. She’s mid-raising the back of the passenger seat by the time Harry jogs around to the driver’s seat and slips in.

In the rear-view, her reflection greets with her unshed tears and bloodshot eyes, mascara smudged below. He turns to face her and strokes a hand down her thigh. He picks the same hand up and sets it onto the gear-shift. Switches to reverse.

The first thing he says from the front of the car, strawberry mouth quirking as his eyes direct to the back-up camera, is, “I’m sorry about your tights. I hope that was alright.”

When they pull up to the motel, Y/N doesn’t ask questions. There’s only been a span of, maybe, ten minutes passed between the parking lot and their final stop of the night before Harry pulls into a parking spot and shuts the car off.

He tells her, “This is my stop.”

Y/N doesn’t do hitchhikers, and exhaustion wracks at every sinew of muscle in her body. She half-expects him to wordlessly hop out of the car. He doesn’t. The man fixes her with a smile, and says, “Could I get your number, maybe?”

It’s not an odd request by any means, but if she weren’t so tired, maybe she’d ask more questions. Her pupils would wend over the shoddy motel sign, and the shit cars parked beside them, and she’d wonder what the hell they were doing parked in front of some abandoned-looking motel. She’d ask why this was his stop, and not a home. Instead, she pulls a napkin from her glovebox and digs for a pen. She scribbles her digits and hands them off. In the brush of the cool air, from the night, when she clambers out to swap spots with him, she wraps her arms about herself. When she takes a seat into the driver’s side, she expects him to walk away. He doesn’t do that either. Instead, she rolls her window down when he beckons, and Harry leans onto the car and tells her, “Get home alright, yeah?”

It’s a miracle when she hobbles up the steps of her apartment complex, when she pries open the front door and crashes into her sheets. The blankets envelop her like a warm hug, and she doesn’t even bother pulling off her tights.

It’s a week before she gets a phone call. There’s no texts, and the morning after, when she’s greeted with radio-silence, she thinks that maybe she’d dreamt the whole thing.

Her tights, ripped at the crotch, prove otherwise.

She’s in bed, days later, when her screen lights up with a call. It’s an unfamiliar number, and curiosity peaks before she swipes over the answer toggle.

“Hello?”

A gap of silence, a breath, and a familiar, smooth baritone on the other end of the line.

“Y/N.”

There’s a little sound of the bedsheets stirring as she freezes up. He’s caught her off guard. A little laugh plucks at his vocal chords, tinny on the other end of the line, like he’s amused by the stretch of lull. Her lips part, the corners of her mouth inching up as she hears a sigh from him that seeps in all the way to her eardrum. But she doesn’t have time to contemplate what to say or how to say it, because he doesn’t let her get a word in before he’s talking again.

And his next words are not a playful jest at her lack of response, or anything friendly, really. In fact, the confession, said so nonchalantly, causes chills to erupt down her arms.

“I was going to kill you that night.”

The chills aren’t the initial reaction. The initial reflex is the crook of her mouth to morph bemused, the pinch between her eyebrows, and this sullen feeling of dread that twists up in her stomach. A laugh bubbles in her chest, because, what the fuck?

But then he keeps talking.

“Thought about draining the life from those pretty eyes the second you rolled your window down,” the voice on the other end sighs, and it’s got this sort of …reminiscent quality to it. Like he’s tracing the steps of the night back to its starting point. Reliving it when he tells her, “It’s such a thrill, you know. Taking that from someone. So intimate.”

The young woman doesn’t make any sounds, kind of appalled by the sick joke. Because it is sick, it’s disturbing, and it’s a twisted way, at the least, to strike up a conversation if he’s …looking to do what they did again. This isn’t the Harry she’d met on that night. This isn’t the same one who’d worn the cream sweatshirt, and talked all friendly with this smooth, wholesome charm — this wasn’t the man she’d let into her car, this wasn’t the man she’d let do all those filthy things to her, in the backseat of her sedan. This doesn’t feel like the same man at all, and she wishes she’d been aware of the sick sense of humor to his character before she’d let him …violate her. Y/N’s just about to budge in with a disgusted comment, tell him off for calling her so late at night to mess with her, but he beats her to the edge of the gap, yet again.

Except this time, he sounds sort of frustrated, and the phrase comes out like a scolding, the tone of his cadence firm and irate. “Didn’t your mum ever tell you not to talk to strangers? …Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to trust strange men on the side of the road? S’just …bloody stupid.”

He laughs. It’s this soft sort of chortle she’d been so charmed by that night — it’s identical, except then, it was this sweet sound full of wholesome mirth. Now, it feels cold. Odd and detached. Surreal.

“But you… you made it so easy,” Y/N listens to every word that comes through the line, hanging onto every syllable of the empty threat as dread churns her stomach. His words from that night crowd behind her skull. You make it so easy. “So friendly, so sweet. Just wanted to chat on and on. I was going to kill you, and you wanted to have a shag—”

Harry tuts. Her heart hammers behind her ribcage, and she only realizes that her breathing has slowed and that her grip on the smartphone’s grown white-knuckled when it shakes against her cheek. She’d let him drive her car. She’d let him get into her car, she’d let him lure her into pit-stopping in a deserted parking lot, she’d locked the doors, and dimmed the lights, and let him open her up with his fingers and his cock. And then she’d let him drive her car, and take down her number. There’s a moment of mortifying silence.

Harry sounds deadly serious when he tells her, “Don’t you ever pick up another hitchhiker.”

The line goes dead.

Y/N calls back. The number she reaches belongs to a payphone, unanswered.

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