#boxer!harry
Text
Knockout*
Summary: The one where Harry is a handsome stranger who always comes to your diner covered in bruises.
Word Count: 9.4k (jeepers, sorry!)
Content Warning: 18+, smut, slight exhibitionism, very brief violence
Your stranger is here.
He’s sitting in his favorite booth, fifth one down from the first row, directly next to the window.
He’s got his usual hoodie pulled over his head, obscuring any view of his face. His clothes are dark and seem to cover nearly every inch of his skin. His knuckles are wrapped in white gauze, but are stained with streaks of red.
And he’s looking down. Staring at the menu on the table as though he doesn’t order the exact same thing every time.
A cup of coffee – black – and a slice of pie.
He’s like clockwork. He comes in exactly five minutes after midnight, takes a seat in his booth, and orders his usual.
Then, he pays his bill, and he leaves.
You’ve grown used to him. Comfortable with the idea of his face and his voice and the strange, but unsettling presence he brings with him.
You find that it’s more unnerving when he’s not here than when he is.
“Hi, Cherry.”
Your stranger’s voice cuts through the quiet diner and forces your attention from the mug of coffee you’re pouring.
You glance up, finally able to see his face now that he’s lifted his head. His skin is littered with deep cuts and vicious scratches. There’s a bruise just by his eye that’s dissolving into an unsettling shade of purple and his bottom lip is split down the middle.
Even still, he’s smiling. A gentle upturn that looks almost painful given the cracked fibers and dried blood.
“Hi,” you reply softly, feeling your heart race beneath your chest as his eyes find yours. “Would you like your usual?”
Somehow, his grin gets a bit brighter. As though he’s touched by the question. “Of course,” he answers calmly, in a voice you imagine you’d recognize anywhere. It’s deep and sultry, but it crackles like lightning. Sensual in a way you can’t exactly explain. “What have you made tonight?”
“Chocolate,” you tell him, glancing back toward the counter where the pies are displayed. “With extra whipped cream.”
“Mm.” His hum is playful, and it matches the glint in his eye. “How much extra?”
“As much as you want.”
He laughs, and you swear fairies are born. “Then I will have a slice of your chocolate pie, with as much whipped cream as you’ll allow.”
You feel your cheeks warm as you nod and turn on your heel to grab his order. Setting the coffee pot down before grabbing a small plate.
Once it’s ready, you return, sliding it across the table beside his mug. “Is that all?”
“No,” he says simply, gesturing now toward the seat across from him.
And just like every other time, you feel your pulse jump. “I’m…I need to get back—”
“You don’t need to go anywhere,” he interrupts with a wry grin. “Please?”
Your lips roll into your mouth, and your heart lands in your throat. Your stranger has always been good at getting you to do what he’d like, and it seems tonight is no different.
So, with a sigh, you glance back toward the kitchen. Checking to make sure you aren’t needed too direly before you slip off your apron and slide into the booth.
“There,” he hums, placing his arms on the table to learn forward. “S’much better, hm?”
And you can’t help but smile as you nod and glance toward your cuticles. Avoiding that vivid green that always seems to send your stomach into a frenzy.
“How are you?” he asks next, and his voice is soft, as if attempting to draw your attention back.
Braving a glance, you lift your head, and meet his eye. “I’m all right. How are you?”
“Good. Better now.”
The flirtatious remark sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. But you don’t respond, instead reaching out your hand toward his. Allowing your fingers to dance along the gauze that’s wrapped around his knuckles.
“It’s bad again,” you whisper, and you feel him study you.
There’s a gentle pause. And then, “Not by much. It’s been worse.”
You suck in a quiet breath and hold it deep within your lungs. Turning his arm around in order to inspect the wounds painted near his wrist. “You promised.”
Even without seeing the full of his face, you catch his expression fall.
“I know, Cherry,” he murmurs. “And I’m trying, I promise. S’just…not that easy.”
Your throat constricts, growing dry from the implication. “I know.”
It’s almost inaudible, but your stranger still hears it, and he sighs as he slips his fingers between yours. Pulling your focus back to him.
“You know you don’t have to worry about me,” he says, squeezing your palm as if to cement the point. “M’gonna be okay.”
“Are you?”
He looks gutted. Ashamed of your disappointment. “It’s just something that I have to do.”
“Why?”
He considers this before shaking his head once. “I don’t know.”
It’s the same answer every time. You ask him who does this to him. Why he does this to himself. Where he goes, why he keeps going back.
But he never offers anything concrete. Just enough to keep you hoping.
He leans closer. Desperate to make you understand. “I’m gonna be all right, Cherry. I promised, didn’t I?”
“But this isn’t ‘all right,’” you argue quietly, once again studying his scars. “You hurt yourself. Or you let somebody else hurt you. And I don’t know why.”
He takes in a breath before setting it free. “I don’t know why, either. But it’s not forever. And I promised you I would be okay. So, I will be.”
You release him and pull yourself from his grasp. Creating a physical distance much like his emotional one.
“I have to be,” he adds, and that charming smirk reappears. Popping a dimple from his cheek. “I’d miss your pies too much.”
Even if your insides have twisted, you can’t help but laugh. “I suppose they’d miss you, too.”
“Good, I would hope. Might be my second-favorite sweet thing here. Only after you.”
Again, his coy remark leaves you entranced. Hands gathering on your lap as you look out through the large window beside you. “You’re quite forward tonight.”
“M’forward every night. You just don’t notice.”
“Is that right?”
“It is. Can’t really help myself, Cherry.”
The familiar nickname feels like home. It was coined after the first night he’d come in. He’d sat in your section – this very booth – and made small talk while you served him.
He asked for your recommendation, and you suggested one of the desserts. The pies were your specialty, and you made a new one every evening. He seemed charmed by this and ordered two slices.
That night was cherry. He ate every bite between sips of his coffee and compliments to you. Leaving nothing but crumbs once you came to collect his plate.
He told you he loved cherry pie. It was his absolute favorite. But he’d never had a pie as good as yours.
And from that night on, you became his Cherry.
He never asked for your real name, and you never offered. You supposed this was intentional. A way to protect you from whatever life he led outside the diner doors.
And in the few weeks he’s been coming back for yet another slice of your pie, you’ve learned only three things about him:
He always pays with big bills.
He drives a vintage, black ’69 Mustang.
And his name is Harry.
Anything past that you suppose isn’t yours to know. Yet despite that, you feel drawn to your stranger. Even if he only seems to exist after midnight.
“You weren’t supposed to be working tonight,” he says, calling your attention back.
You glance away from the window just in time to see his frown. “Joshua asked me to cover a few of his shifts,” you explain. “I’ll be here through the weekend.”
“You covered him last week,” he reminds you, with just a touch of disapproval. “And a few weekends before that.”
Your stranger is right, but you merely lift a shoulder and let it fall. “I don’t mind. The extra money is nice, and the night shift is always quiet.”
“Not always,” he retorts, and you notice the pull of his eyebrows. “Not everybody is as kind as you, Cher. Not in this part of town. Or this late.”
You can’t help but smile at his need to shelter you. “I know. But Owen is here, and he makes sure to check on me from time to time.”
However, Harry’s expression seems to settle into something hard and unnerved. “And what if he gets distracted? What if he doesn’t see some loser trying to grab for you? Or talk to you? Or take advantage of you?”
His voice is rising, a gentle but obvious crescendo that turns the heads of the few patrons scattered about the diner.
You reach for his hand once more, squeezing it hard to implore him to listen. “Then I will use my extensive training as a waitress and kick their ass.”
You can tell he doesn’t want to, but he smiles. Brushing his thumb along your wrist before looking down. “I’m only trying to protect you.”
“I know,” you whisper, dipping down in order to find his eye. “But I’m not the one who needs protecting.”
The air is charged with a sort of tension you can’t explain. He feels so close and yet so very far away. Your heart aches for your stranger, and for his scars that never heal.
“Hey,” calls a loud voice, ringing through the small diner until you and Harry both turn. You find a man sitting near the counter, wearing a camouflage baseball hat and flannel shirt. His beard is long and scruffy, and his expression is wildly annoyed. “Do you fucking work here or not? Been waiting on a refill for ten goddamn minutes.”
Feeling rather embarrassed of the way you’ve neglected the other customers and deserted your post, you quickly slide out of the booth and stand. Cheeks warm and heart racing. “Yes, of course. I’m so sorry, sir.”
You rush to check on the coffee pot near the counter, making sure that it’s hot and fresh before you approach. Then, you tip the spout into his mug, and refill his drink that’s already three-fourths of the way full.
You can see Harry watching you from his spot. A similarly irritated look behind his eye as he studies the man sitting before you.
Once the coffee has been refilled, you nod an apology, and begin to retreat.
“Not so fast,” the customer grumbles, clearing his throat as he straightens up. Forcing you to hesitate. “I want my check. And a slice of pie on the house. For my troubles.”
Your heart leaps into your throat, but you nod again. The Starlight Diner doesn’t exactly offer free pastries, and anything that a staff member has to comp comes out of the employee’s paycheck.
Granted, one slice won’t set you back too far, but the shame will. The idea that you left a customer waiting while you chatted with a man you hardly know. It’s unprofessional and not at all how you’d like to be perceived in the workplace. As a mindless girl who merely doddles her day away. Fawning over handsome strangers and daydreaming about a life she can’t have.
“Absolutely,” you tell him, rushing to grab him a fresh piece just as Harry begins to stand from the booth. “Will that be all?”
“Don’t be stingy with the whipped cream,” he instructs. “In fact, I’d like to see you put it on in front of me. So I can make sure you aren’t trying to fuck me over.”
The blood drains from your face. You feel humiliated under the warm hue of lights strung up around the restaurant. Grabbing the can of whipped topping in a desperate attempt to please and end the interaction all together.
“Why don’t you watch your fucking tone,” Harry grits, approaching the man from his left.
But the customer merely scoffs, refusing to offer him even a disinterested glance. “Yeah, and why don’t you mind your own business?”
Suddenly, Harry’s hand smacks down onto the counter beside him, inches from his plate while the coffee inside his mug trembles.
You can’t help but jump, arm recoiling away from the pie while the entire diner grows quiet. Everybody’s attention has turned to your stranger. Watching him closely as he leans forward, and dips down to catch the man’s eye.
“Wasn’t a question,” he murmurs darkly. “You watch your fucking tone when you speak to her. Or I’ll watch it for you.”
And you can tell the older gentleman is a bit off-put by Harry’s distressing demeanor. Yet he remains rather calm, clearing his throat again before leaning back. “And what are you gonna do about it, cupcake?”
Harry’s head cocks to the side. “Would you like me to show you?”
“Harry,” you whisper, just loud enough to force his eyes to yours. “It’s okay. It’s fine.”
“Yeah, she’s fine, buttercup,” the customer snorts, spinning around to face you once more. “Now let’s go, princess. I don’t have all fucking night.”
His fingers snap together before he points toward the pie. Instructing you to continue applying the fluffy cream until you hesitantly continue.
The whipped desert sprays out of the can in a steady stream, piling higher and higher atop the pie until it begins to spill over onto the side.
Yet he doesn’t stop you. He simply nods and mutters for you to keep going. To fill the plate until he’s satisfied.
And you know exactly why he’s doing it. Not to satiate a sweet tooth but to demean you. To force you under his cruel, sadistic stare until you fold like a house of cards.
Your stranger fumes from his place a few feet away. You can tell he’s desperate to intervene, but he obeys your look of frantic insistence. Remaining quiet while you oblige the customer’s request.
Soon, the can runs out. The last few drops spewing from the nozzle until you’re left with nothing but air and an empty bottle.
With a hitch in your breath, you begin to withdraw your hand. He’ll have to drop this degradation act now, and you hope that he only demands the rest of his check before going about his night.
However, before you can fully retract your arm, a collection of grimy fingers dart out and curl around your wrist. Keeping you in place while the man’s eyes narrow and he hisses, “Did I say you could stop?”
But the moment his palm touches your skin, Harry is stepping forward, grabbing a fistful of his collar, and hoisting him from his seat. Then, he shoves him back against the tile wall just behind him, the connection so forceful, it knocks the gentleman’s hat askew.
The other customers, including yourself, gasp from the sudden act of violence. Watching as Harry steps up to him and sneers in his face with the vilest look of disdain you imagine you’ve ever seen.
“Don’t ever…” he seethes through deep, even breaths, “…put your fucking hands on her…again.”
And he’s terrifying. So utterly terrifying, with his busted knuckles, his cracked lip, and his bruised jaw. It’s clear he’s a threat, and the man he’s holding goes deathly pale as Harry keeps him trapped against the wall.
All he can do is nod his understanding, choosing to end the fight before it can begin while Harry – after a very long moment – finally lets him go and allows him to flee from the diner.
There’s a stillness in the café that makes your heart race. The few regulars that are left watching on with a mixture of sympathy and embarrassment. It’s not until Harry shoots them their own venomous glare that they quickly turn away and continue on with their meals.
You slump into the counter, letting the can drop to your side while the sound of a door flinging open echoes from somewhere behind you.
“The hell…is going on?” Owen calls, exiting the kitchen in order to get a better look around. He finds you first, raking his stare up and down your frame before looking to Harry. “What happened?”
“You fucking left her out here, alone,” Harry barks. “That’s what fucking happened.”
Owen’s eyebrows raise as he moves his attention to you. But you quickly side-step into Harry’s path, attempting to end another confrontation before it can begin.
“Just…a customer,” you finally answer softly, reaching for the plate in order to clear your regret away. “It’s fine. He left.”
Your boss nods once. “But he paid first, yes?”
Again, your heart sinks into your toes. Lashes fluttering when you realize his bill will be coming out of your paycheck. “He…um, no, he…he left before I could collect it—”
“Darling,” Owen sighs, and it’s heavy with disappointment, “what did we talk about?”
“I…I know. I’ll…I’ll pay for it—"
Harry’s palm suddenly smacks down onto the counter for a second time this evening. Yet now, there’s a wad of cash beneath his hand. From the looks of it, well over a hundred dollars.
“This will cover it,” he mumbles, turning his unforgiving stare to your boss. “And it’ll cover the rest of her shift, too. She’s done.”
With that, his fingers are wrapping around your upper arm before you can even wrap your head around his offering. Blinking wildly while Owen glances from the cash to you in an effort to piece together Harry’s instruction.
But your stranger leaves you no room for questioning or bargaining. He’s pulling you out the diner door and into the dark parking lot before you can even bid your boss goodbye.
He strides between the cars before hooking a left around the building. Leading you toward the back alleyway where he normally keeps his car, the wet pavement squeaking beneath his sneakers.
And during this fervent stalking, his fingers slide down from your upper arm and into your hand. Grasping it tightly as if to make sure he won’t lose you.
Perhaps a part of you would like to feel miffed or ashamed of what just took place, but you can’t seem to fault him for his reaction. He’s always been nothing but kind to you – even if he doesn’t always lend that kindness to others. Expressing his desire to protect you, even if he doesn’t know you.
You wonder if this need to defend is part of the reason why you’ve only ever seen him covered in scars and bruises. If he comes to the diner in the dead of night in order to watch over you. Like a guardian angel or vigilante.
Right now, however, he disappears into the shadows, gently pulling you along with him until you see his car only a few feet away. He releases you at the same time that he releases a heavy sigh, running a hand through his dark curls as his hood is pushed down.
“Harry…” you begin quietly, tentative of startling him.
“I’m sorry,” he says before you can even finish. “M’sorry, I lost my temper. I know.”
You watch the way he turns away from you. Bracing himself against the hood of the Mustang while dropping his head in what you only assume is remorse.
And your heart aches for him. For the gentleman that lives beneath the outlaw. “Harry,” you whisper again, stepping closer in order run your fingers down his back. Feeling the way his muscles tense before melting beneath your touch. “I’m not mad, I promise.”
“I know you don’t like it when I interfere,” he mumbles, and it’s almost swept away by the cold, early morning air. “But he fucking touched you, and I—”
“I know,” you interrupt tenderly. “I know, and I’m not mad. I’m glad you did it. I’m glad you were here.”
He hesitates, face turning toward his shoulder. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You allow your chest to meet his spine. “Always feel safer with you.”
He exhales deeply, releasing something heavy before he’s turning around, and reaching for your cheeks. The soft, stained gauze slides against your skin, and his touch is firm. Keeping you in his embrace while he gazes at you warmly.
“Are you all right, Cherry?” he asks now, thumbs sweeping beneath your eyes. “Did he hurt you?”
Your head shakes. “No. Scared me a little, but I’m okay.”
It’s clear he doesn’t like this, that familiar frown reforming as he holds you a bit tighter. “He never should have spoken to you like that. Much less put his fucking hands on you—”
“I know, but it’s okay,” you interject again, hoping to ease his stress. “I’m okay because you were here.”
And this is the only thing that seems to calm him. That familiar smile of his the perfect remedy for such a strange night. You don’t want to tell him how often this happens. Especially during the later shift. But that’s what you get for working at a 24-hour diner, and you’re starting to think this is merely part of the job.
And truth be told…you think he already knows.
His forehead meets yours, and you can’t help but grin yourself. Grateful for the comfort he provides – stranger or not.
“Speaking of which…why are you here?” you ask gingerly. “I thought you didn’t come in on my days off?”
“I don’t. But…I saw your car.”
“Oh…how?”
His smirk transforms into something coy. “I was driving by.”
“Oh, really?” you tease. “On purpose?”
The smile slips now, a more reverent look in his eye as he nods. “I like to check on you. Make sure you’re okay.”
And maybe in any other universe, this would strike you as odd. Perhaps even unsettling or disconcerting.
But even if you don’t know him, you know him. You know his intentions have only ever been pure, and even without having much more than his name, he has always made you feel safe.
You choose to believe in him. In the goodness of your stranger and the care he provides. Inside and out.
“You do?” you murmur, allowing your hands to rest on his chest. “How often?”
A beat. Then, “…every night.”
The alley grows quiet. Scattered streetlamps reflect off the pools of water that are sprinkled across the cement, warming the dark night with their sepia-toned beams.
And you stand there, just you and him, while the weight of the world seems to rest on his shoulders.
But instead of chastising him or asking any further questions, you push yourself up onto your tiptoes…and kiss him.
It’s not the first kiss you’ve shared, and you know, undoubtedly, that it won’t be your last. Your stranger has been stealing your kisses for weeks now.
And you suppose stealing isn’t exactly a fair comparison. After all, you’ve nearly pleaded with him to kiss you every time he’s come in.
Not that there’s much need for begging when he’s so willing to offer them to you. Sneaking you away the moment your shift is through. Chasing you through the parking lot…pulling you into the backseat of his car.
It makes you giddy. You feel like a schoolgirl with a crush on the handsome senior. Slipping into the shadows where he waits. Letting him hold you, kiss you, touch you.
It doesn’t matter if you don’t know more than his name or what he does behind closed doors. You choose to share these special – albeit somewhat scandalous – moments with the mysterious gentleman in booth 505.
“My sweet girl,” he breathes against your lips. The wonderfully delicious nickname melting on your tongue. “Missed you.”
You want to remind him that it’s only been about two days, but you can’t. Because you missed him, too.
“And m’so sorry,” he says next, trailing his quick but fervent kisses down your neck. “So fucking sorry for being so bad. Never wanna scare you or make you anxious.”
A soft, delicate noise bleeds from your throat, and you cling to his much stronger frame as though you’re afraid you’ll simply disappear without him.
“Wanna make it up to you,” he whispers. “Will you let me, Cherry? Let me be good again?”
You nod, needing him to keep himself as close to you as he’ll allow. You want to settle him in your lungs, keep him snug inside in your chest. Against your heart.
And a large part of you just wants to keep him…always.
“Let me make it better,” he says, hands dropping to your hips in order to push you toward his car. Placing you against the door in order to trap you and deepen his kiss. “Let me be good, sweet girl. Be good for you.”
And he’s always good. Good to you, good for you. It doesn’t matter how he is with everybody else.
“Please?” he asks again, leaning back just far enough to catch your eye. “Will you let me?”
He wants your explicit consent. Wants you to say the words before he continues, and you appreciate this stricter habit.
“Yes,” you manage to answer, exhaling the word with the little strength you still possess. “Yes, please—”
He takes your hand before you can finish, guiding you over toward the backseat before swinging the door open and stepping aside.
“Lay down, baby,” he mumbles gently, pressing a kiss to the side of your head while guiding you in. “On your back, okay? Want you comfy.”
You do as instructed, dipping down into the vehicle before settling into the soft, leather seat. Flipping over until you can find a position you like.
Harry is quick to follow, landing between your thighs before pulling the door shut. You both maneuver until he can hover his body above yours, keeping you beneath him as he runs a palm up the side of your leg.
His warm hand feels good against your bare skin, the dress you’re required to wear as part of your waitressing uniform bunching just at the top of your knees from the new position. But it’s like ecstasy, heating up your goose bumped skin from the nippy air outside.
“How’s this, hm?” He squeezes your hip. “You all right, Cher?”
You rest your head against the door and nod, fingers already itching to reach for him again. “Yes, I’m okay.”
“Promise?”
“Mhm. Promise.”
The side of his mouth curls up, and it makes your stomach flutter. “Good girl. Gonna go slow, okay? Earn my forgiveness.”
He continues the lazy strokes to your thigh, falling all the way down to your ankle before going back up. It is slow, and it almost drives you mad. Because he knows what you want. And he knows just how badly you want it.
Things with Harry never go further than you. Something you’re almost tempted to find odd, but he’s a giver. That was made clear from the first time. He derives more pleasure out of your orgasms than he apparently does his own. He only ever wants to touch you, taste you, feel you. It’s never about him.
You often wonder if there’s a deeper reason for this. If he’s denying himself release on purpose or if he’s merely terrified of getting close. And occasionally you wonder if he simply just doesn’t want to fuck you, but something tells you that’s not the case.
Maybe one day you’ll be brave enough to ask.
Tonight, however, it seems he’s still determined to put the attention on you. Long fingers gently scratching at your leg until you shiver. It makes him grin.
“Can I see you, baby?” he asks softly, letting his eyes trail beneath the hem of your dress. “See how pretty you are?”
Again, you can only whine pitifully as you motion your head up and down quickly. Wanting to succumb to his strong touch. Only feeling grounded if he’s there to hold you.
“Thank you, sweet girl,” he breathes, using his scarred hands to push your outfit up a bit higher. Revealing your quivering stomach and the delicate pair of panties around your hips.
They’re nothing special. In fact, you imagine they’re rather embarrassing. A simple, tan fabric that does absolutely nothing to make your pussy look more desirable.
Perhaps it’s a little silly, but you like to look nice for him. On the nights you know he might be coming to see you (which has been every night you’ve worked since you met), you tend to pick prettier pairs.
Some with lace, some with little bows. Sweeter colors, sexier colors. Anything that might make him smile.
But you hadn’t anticipated seeing him tonight, and now, you almost want to shy away. Lashes fluttering as you look up toward the roof of his car.
But he doesn’t seem to notice. Nor does he seem to care about the color around your waist, his eyes growing wide as his attention glues to the mesmeric sight before him. Pink, bruised lips parting with wonder while he moves closer.
“Cherry,” he exhales, the feel of his breath sweeping against your bent knee, “missed you so much. Been forever, hm?”
You nod again, braving another glance just in time to see his hand lower. And then you feel him. Feel his thumb pressing gently into the front of your underwear, just above where your clit lies.
Your entire body seems to spark to life like the flicker of a flame. And you gasp, subtly bucking up into his touch in search of more. In search of him.
He smiles. “S’it feel good, honey?”
You let out a soft breath, chest nearly caving in as you whisper, “Harry…”
He looks up, eyes flicking to yours as that coy smirk grows. “What, baby? You okay?”
Of course you’re okay. He knows you’re okay, but you’ve noticed he likes to hear you say it. He likes to know he’s making it better for you. That he’s helping, that he’s doing good.
When you don’t answer, he returns to your pussy, fingers strumming up and down your covered cunt like he’s playing an instrument. Tuning your body to his needs.
“Can I touch you?” he asks now, dipping down to nudge his nose beneath your jaw. Pressing a soft kiss to your throat. “Wanna touch you…be good for you, Cher. Was so bad…just wanna make it better.”
He’s attempting to atone for what he did in the diner. To apologize, offer his remorse.
And even if you know he has nothing to apologize for, you can’t find it in you to deny him. Reaching up to tangle your fingers in his curls as you tug him closer. Kissing him fiercely.
He’s hard on himself. You know he is. You don’t know why. You don’t know what the cause is. But you can see the repercussions. They’re painted all over his body, and he wears them proudly.
He curses against your mouth, and you’re reminded then of his busted lip. Instantly pulling away while you mumble an apologetic, “I’m sorry. I forgot—”
“No,” he nearly groans, slipping his other hand around the back of your neck to keep you close. “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind, I promise. I like it.”
His kisses become hard again. Anxious, desperate, and rushed. As though he needs you in order to survive. His nose knocking into yours from the way he readjusts himself. Wanting to take you deeper, really taste you.
You’ve never been so happy in your life.
He only pulls away in order to slip your panties down your thighs, pushing them to your ankles until he can really see you.
His entire expression softens the moment his eyes find you. Filled with a certain kind of hope and indulgence as he gazes at you almost tenderly. Unable to resist reaching out and letting his finger brush down your folds.
You make another noise, but he doesn’t notice this one. Too content to be touching you. Feeling you. Spreading you open just to watch you drip.
“So fucking good to me,” he murmurs. “You know that, sweet girl? So perfect for me. Exactly what I need and far more than I deserve.”
You aren’t sure what he means, but the implication makes you frown. Pulling on his hair a bit harder while he moves to your clit and begins to press down.
The pressure of his thumb against the more sensitive nerves leaves you breathless. Squirming beneath him from the rush of pleasure that only serves in making you needier.
“Always so warm,” he muses quietly. Almost as if to himself. “So soft. So sweet. Can’t ever get enough of you.”
It makes your head spin the way he seems to adore you. The way he talks about your body as if he can’t believe he’s lucky enough to behold it. To feel it, to get to indulge in it. Worshiping you like you’re his religion.
He begins to rub your clit in slow, teasing circles. Kissing you once more in order to taste your whines and feed off your desperation. Wet noises fill the car. Not just from your pussy, but from his frantic kisses that echo between the foggy windows.
It makes you shiver, loving the way he nips at your bottom lip just to leave you restless. The way he whispers your nickname before moving to your neck, pulling your skin between his teeth and smoothing over the mark with his tongue.
He goes faster. Chasing after your whimpers and the way you arch your body into his. Loving how excitable you get from only a few flicks of his thumb across your sensitive clit.
Then, he slows down. Exhaling a heavy breath as if bracing himself to edge you. Like it hurts him more than it hurts you.
And you mewl pitifully as you cling to his broader frame and tug him down into your arms. “Harry—”
“I know,” he coos, and it’s gentle the way he speaks. Sympathetic almost. “I know, sweet girl. But m’not done with you yet. Just wanna keep you a little longer. Is that okay?”
You bury your face in his neck and make another noise. Something akin to his name that gets lost in the way he curses.
“It’s okay,” he tries again, allowing you to use his body like a lifeline. “I’ve got you, baby. All right? M’right here, I’ve got you.”
He proves this by resuming his sweet torture. Circling the nerves a time or two more before moving down. Smoothing through your folds and lowering toward the pooling of arousal that waits for him.
You hear him hum. “So precious. S’this all for me, then? Mine to play with? Mine to taste?”
You whine, “Yes, yes, yes,” as quickly as your mouth will permit, and he chuckles.
The tip of his finger dips inside, presumably to collect everything you have to offer him before he’s lifting it toward his lips.
And you settle back against the door to watch. Enchanted by the way he places you on his tongue and sucks. His lashes fluttering and cheeks flushing from the taste.
You don’t imagine you’ll ever get used to watching him do that. After all, you’ve never been particularly…unbothered by the idea of somebody tasting you. Not even with past partners. You get too caught up in your own head. Worried about the taste, the feel, the smell.
Truth be told, most of the men you’ve been with before were never interested in you. They wanted what you could give them. And then they wanted out.
By all accounts, Harry is nothing like anyone else you’ve ever known. Not just because of the mystery that follows his persona, but because of his endless attention to you. To what you need, what makes you feel good.
He devotes every second to making you feel like you’re God’s gift to Earth. A gift to him. Praising you for simply existing. Indulging in your taste as though you're the sweetest dessert he’s ever had.
Like now, while a deep moan reverberates from the depths of his chest. Filling the car and your ears like music, making your thighs clench around his hips.
“S’why I call you my sweet girl, you know that?” he murmurs, sucking on his fingers until you’re sure there’s nothing left. And even then some. “So fucking sweet for me. Can’t ever get enough. Gonna get me addicted, baby. Might already have.”
The moment he takes his hand back out, you’re lifting up, and pressing your mouth to his. And you don’t even care if you can taste yourself on his tongue because all you really taste is him.
But the mixture of him, and you, and the slight tang of blood from the busted fibers of his lip is euphoric. Strange but lovely in a way you hadn’t anticipated.
He seems to understand this despondency, growing a bit more frantic in his need to please. No longer focused on edging as he drops his fingers back to your cunt while his other hand moves for the buttons on your chest.
He pops them free one by one until your equally plain bra is revealed to him. But again, he doesn’t take notice of such things. Instead swallowing thickly at the sight of your breasts that swell behind the cups.
He kisses you again. And again, and again. Then he moves to your cheek and down your neck. Trailing his tongue toward your collarbone and along your sternum.
You feel restless. Waiting for something – for him. You already know how magical his touch is. You already know the kind of pleasure he provides, and it nearly drives you mad to simply sit in anticipation. Stuck on his time.
Eventually he reaches your chest, lips moving for the curve of your tit before he’s making another noise and sucking into the tender flesh. Nipping at it, pulling it between hungry teeth. Smoothing over the marks with the warmth of his mouth while you reel.
Your hands disappear back into his hair. Stroking the curls almost fondly, nails lightly scratching at his scalp.
He’s always seemed to enjoy this. Instructing that you pull on him as hard as you’d like. That you tug and scratch. That you use him to inflict your pain and your pleasure. That you think of him first and foremost.
Now is no different. He nuzzles himself further into your breasts while simultaneously sighing with contentment at the way your hand feels against his head. The way you keep him close to your heart.
You’d keep him forever if you could.
You hardly even notice the way his finger has slipped inside. The way it strokes your delicate walls that flutter from the intrusion, tensing before relaxing in order to allow him in.
“There,” he whispers, pleased with the way your body obeys him. “S’okay. Gonna make it better. I promise.”
And you know he will.
“So tight today, baby,” he says, leaving another kiss to the swell of your chest. Open-mouthed and messy. “Has it been that long?”
You don’t know. You can’t remember the last time he touched you, although you’re almost sure it hasn’t been more than a week. The two of you have become rather insatiable for each other. Chasing after a kind of release you only seem to find within the hands of the other.
Those beautiful green eyes flitter up to yours, studying you closely. Benevolently. “Have you not been taking care of yourself, sweet girl?”
You take a moment to consider what he means before you feel your cheeks warm. Offering him nothing more than a quick shake of your head.
He frowns, brows pulling together. “Why not, hm? Thought you promised you’d try for me. Help make things better when I’m not around.”
You shrug, growing a touch embarrassed. “I know, but…it’s not the same. Don’t like it.”
“Is that right?”
Another shake. “Get bored.”
“Bored,’ he repeats, and there’s a certain glint in his eye. But instead of disappointed, he seems empathetic. “Cause it’s not the same, yeah? Your fingers too small?”
Now you nod, making a noise of agreement.
He nods along with you, beginning to smirk. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Bet it’s just so frustrating, isn’t it? Trying to find all your sweet, little spots, but just not quite being able to reach?”
You cling to him as he stretches you a bit further. Doing everything you can’t do for yourself. Effortlessly curling his finger into that one spot until you begin to shake.
“Just like that, hm?” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to your collarbone. “S’that what you can’t find, baby? S’that what’s so achy?”
And it is. It’s so infuriatingly sore that it almost makes you cry. Wishing you could chase after that feeling until your heart gives out.
“I bet.” More kisses to your chest. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna fix it, okay? Make it all better again.”
“Please?” you whimper, nails scratching down his broad back. Attempting to pull him closer.
“Mhm.” He leans forward and brings his lips to yours now. His kiss quick but full of promise. “Always gonna take care of you.”
He begins to thrust the longer digit in and out. Slow enough to work you up but fast enough to leave you wanting more. Coaxing the muscles open before bringing a second finger into play.
The sounds of your wetness being pushed and pulled by his hand are sinful. Sending a chill down your spine and directly into your cunt.
You moan when you feel them, writhing a bit beneath his body until he has to press his leg into yours to keep you still.
“Shh, it’s okay,” he mumbles. Leaving another kiss below your jaw. “Know you can take it, baby. You always do. Don’t you?”
And even if that’s true, you aren’t opposed to the slight sting. Instead invigorated by it and the way he uses great care with you. Wanting to make sure you’re all right so he can please you the way he wants.
Yet somehow, it’s still not enough. Even with the way he curls, and pumps, and thrusts those beautiful digits into your pussy, you feel empty. Barely scratching the surface of that itch as he presses his chest to yours to calm you.
Your noises are becoming more pathetic. Your entire being heaving with the weight of promised pleasure in a way you can’t seem to understand.
His thumb presses into your clit every few minutes, attempting to guide you closer to your release, and it works. The combination making your stomach coil until you nearly see stars. Every cell in your body tightening.
“You close, Cherry?” His free hand moves for your face. Palm pressing into your jaw as the bandage on his knuckles sweeps across your cheek. “Hm? You gonna cum for me?”
And you are. You are, you are. You can almost taste it. Can feel it bubbling up from between your thighs, ready to unravel like the seams on your favorite sweater.
“Yes,” you gasp, arching from the leather seat. “Yes, please…please don’t stop. Please—”
“Won’t stop,” he promises in a soothing tone, lips ghosting atop yours. “Never stop, I promise. M’gonna be right here until you do, okay? Go ahead. I’ve got you.”
And this is all you need. It happens suddenly and yet far too slowly. Pulling you apart from the inside out.
You moan so loud, your chest shakes. Eyes rolling back and nails scratching down his spine as it hits you.
Instantly, he moves his hand from your jaw to your lips. Palm pressing hard against your mouth in order to silence you as he whispers, “Shh, baby. Gotta be quiet for me, okay? It’s okay, you’re all right. Just let go—"
And you do. Allow your body to deplete itself of all energy as he works you through every goddamn second. Dragging it out as far as it’ll go. Increasing the speed of his flicks and thrusts. Pumping your orgasm out of you until it sits in his waiting hand.
“Good,” he breathes before finally removing his hand in order to kiss you quickly. Fingers squeezing the back of your neck as he brings you closer. “So fucking good, there you go. S’okay. Keep going, come on.”
And it’s so good, so wonderful. You feel like you’re floating, high up into the clouds. You decide then that he must be an angel, carrying you in his wings and setting you on a sunset.
But you’re still squirming, seemingly discontented, and he notices far too easily. “You okay, Cher?”
“More,” you whisper faintly. “More…please…”
“More,” he echoes. “My sweet girl wants more. More what, hm? What do you need?”
“More,” is all you say. Once again wiggling your hips down as if to sink his fingers in further. “More, Harry, please.”
“Oh. You want another one. Is that it?”
You nod silently, too strung-out to think in coherent sentences.
He chuckles again, kissing your other cheek before pinching your chin. “All right. Give you as many as you want, baby.”
Feeling incredibly grateful, you allow your trembling limbs to fall slack. Once again settling beneath him as he works to get you to your second.
But even as he resumes the languid but practiced thrusts of his fingers, you feel unsatiated. Eager for something else, but you aren’t sure what.
He realizes before you do. “S’not enough, is it?” he coos. “Need something bigger, don’t you?”
That’s what it is, and you nod eagerly as your nails scratch down the sleeves of his hoodie.
“Think you can take something bigger? Think you can take another finger, baby?”
Another nod. Faster, more fervent. Eyes pleading with him to give you anything he has to offer.
He obliges this, glancing down before lining his fingers up, and slowly slipping all three inside.
This stretch is a bit more prominent. He’s deliberately gentle, never giving you more than he assumes you can handle.
And he watches you closely. Searching for any grimaces or winces of discomfort.
When he finds none, he seems relieved, kissing up from your chest to your throat once more. “Good girl. There you go.”
You begin to writhe a little more ardently until he has to bring his other hand to your knee in order to press it down into the seat. Keeping you spread and still until you settle.
“Easy,” he coos gently, placing some of his weight onto your thigh. “Gonna have to be good, baby, and relax for me. Let me make you feel good, okay?”
You want to obey. You do, really. But the overstimulation and sensitivity from your first orgasm is almost too much. Making you choke on the heated air until you can hardly breathe.
“Like it when I take care of you, don’t you?” he asks you now. Licking a stripe along your jaw. “Like it when I steal you away from them?”
He’s right, you do. Perhaps you shouldn’t, but there’s something about the way he makes you feel as though you deserve more than this. As though you’re meant for more than the diner. He makes you feel invincible.
“Maybe one day I’ll take you away,” he decides. “Fucking take you from them and make you mine. Forever. For always.”
And you decide you like the sound of that.
Another moment of his strenuous torture passes before he leans back to watch. And you notice something in his face. Utter fascination and lust over the way your body bends to his will. Over the way it stretches around his fingers, the way he pulls it open.
He releases a deep, coarse groan through clenched teeth. Fixated on the way his fingers disappear into your pussy. “Taking me so well, baby. Know you’d take my cock, too, wouldn’t you?”
You whimper miserably, undone by the thought. You can’t deny that you’ve wondered what he’d feel like. All of him, stretching you open. Fucking into you while leaving you a panting mess.
You often imagine what he’s like in bed. In an actual bed and not in the backseat of his car or yours. What he might be like when he’s truly lost himself to the pleasure. Guiding his hips to yours, bending you into a hundred and one positions meant just for his indulgence.
You wonder if he’d be just as careful as he is now. Just as devoted to you. If he’d be hard and fast or soft and slow. If he has dirty kinks, secret fantasies. If he likes the lights on or off. If he likes the bed or if he likes it up against the wall.
You hope one day you get to find out.
“Think you would, yeah?” he continues, sliding his digits all the way to the knuckle. The fibers of the gauze brushing against your clit. “Know you would. Be so good for me. This sweet little pussy would treat me so well, wouldn’t it?”
You nod quickly, pouting at him anxiously.
“I know,” he tuts, finally leaning back over to kiss you again. “Know you’d be such a good girl for me. Let me work you open until you could fit me…let me stretch you just right.”
You reach out for his wrist in search of something to squeeze, and it makes him chuckle. Teeth sinking into your bottom lip until you moan.
“Might take a while,” he muses. “Might take hours. Days. I’ll have to just keep you in my bed until you can fit me, hm?”
He attempts to pull away, but you chase after him. Looping an arm around his neck in order to yank him back to you.
His smirk feels good against your lips. “M’not going anywhere, sweet girl. Just like to watch you. Bet it’d be fun to watch you take my cock, wouldn’t it? Watch it sink right into this tight little hole.”
He’s evil. Absolutely sadistic and it makes you groan against his tongue until he has to soothe you.
“I know, baby. One day,” he breathes. “I promise. M’gonna take you away and do it right. Make it worth it.”
The thrusting of his fingers becomes more poignant. Enough to drive a plethora of desperate moans from your chest as he nuzzles his nose below your jaw and simply breathes.
“Gonna worship you. Give you everything you deserve.” He sucks in a quiet inhale before dancing his lips along your throat. “Have you sit on my face until I can’t breathe.”
The image has your eyes rolling back. Even if you aren’t sure you’d ever feel comfortable doing so, you’re enamored by the idea. Of the thought of him holding onto your thighs, pressing you down to his mouth. Completely controlling you.
“Can never breathe when I’m with you, anyway,” he whispers, and you almost don’t catch it. You wonder if you were meant to. “M’gonna do it right, sweet girl. I promise.”
And this is the vow that pulls you through to the other side. Large digits curling up into that one spot that makes your legs shake and you’re falling apart for the second time.
But he still doesn’t stop. Stroking, pressing, pumping even after the tears have begun to slip from your eye.
“Keep going, there you go. Does it feel good? Feel so good, cumming all over my hand?”
And it does, but you can’t exactly answer. Can’t seem to do anything but cry out as you ride the wave and his fingers as though your life depends on it.
“Doing so good,” he murmurs gently, raising up to kiss you once more. Swallowing your pitiful mewling. “So fucking good, baby. M’so proud of you. Took me so well. So beautiful when you cum, Cherry, you know that? Could watch you forever.”
The sentiment makes your entire body grow warm. You’ve always wondered what you might look like when you orgasm, and truth be told, you imagine it’s not very pretty.
But to hear him say it now – so earnestly – makes your stomach wrench. Nails curling into the seat below as you lift off the leather and knock your chest into his.
He holds you as tight as he can before slowly pulling his fingers out. Relieving you from the overstimulation before putting you back in his mouth. Sucking until a string of saliva drips down his into the gauze on his knuckles. Painting it a much prettier picture than the red has.
After swelling every drop of you with a lewd groan, he finally pulls his hand out, and takes you into his arms. Kissing you through the remnants of the blissful rush.
“So good,” he says again, face burying back into your neck while stroking your thigh with his soaked fingers. “Always make me so proud.”
Your limbs tangle with his as you both slouch into the backseat. Allowing your heart beats to synchronize into one, steady rhythm.
And once they have, you begin to grin. “Harry?”
“Mm?”
“Thank you.”
He exhales a soft laugh before leaning back onto his knees to get a good look at you. “What for, sweet girl?”
“Just for…this, I suppose,” you mumble shyly. “For all of it. Tonight. Standing up for me and…you know, this part.”
His chuckle becomes a bit more smug. “Are you thanking me for making you cum?”
“I’m…trying. I think.”
“Hm.” His grin is playful and so damn charming as he dips back down to hover his lips near yours. “Don’t have to thank me, Cherry. Believe me. It’s my pleasure.”
His teasing remark makes you giggle, and you kiss him hard before he has the chance to leave you again.
You kiss for a while. A long while. Until you can hardly breathe, your muscles beginning to ache and your eyelids beginning to grow heavy from the lack of sleep in this early morning hour.
It’s not until you actually yawn that Harry finally remembers to pull himself away and reach for the panties around your ankles. “Shit, it’s late, isn’t it? Know I’ve kept you longer than I should have.”
With a quick shake of your head, you push up onto your elbows. “No. I’m fine, I promise. Just…cumming makes me sleepy, I guess. And you’re so warm. It’s nice.”
This makes him smile again, and that dimple of his makes your heart ache. “You know I’d keep you in this car until the sun came up if I could.”
“I know.” Your fingers outstretch for his hoodie, tangling into the material on his stomach while he guides your underwear back up around your hips. “Maybe one day, yeah?”
His expression softens, and you almost swear you see a flash of sadness behind that sage green. “Yeah. Maybe.”
It’s quiet as you rebutton your dress and pull the hem back down. And even quieter as Harry opens the door and slips out of the car, extending his hand toward you in order to help you out as well.
But once you’ve straightened up and turned to face him, you see that something has changed. A look of longing that hadn’t been there before etched between those scarred features.
His thumb brushes just beneath your eye and then down to your lips. Tracing the lines and dips before he sighs and cradles your cheek in his palm. “Are you gonna be all right?”
You place your hand over his and squeeze. “Are you?”
Another deep breath. Heavier and more forlorn. “You know I’ll try.”
“Promise?”
His forehead meets yours, and you both still. “I promise.”
And you choose to believe him.
You say goodbye, and regretfully let him go. Shaky legs carrying you back to your car as his eyes follow you all the way. Making sure you get there safely before you take off down the road and leave him behind.
A few nights later, you’re back for your next shift. And truth be told, you’re almost excited. Because having to go so long without him feels like a form of punishment. Like your days aren’t nearly as bright without him. And neither are your nights.
You can’t help but count the seconds as you go about your evening. Unable to distract yourself with the pastries no matter how hard you try. Thoughts drifting back to those chocolate curls and that devilish smile.
When midnight strikes, you feel relieved. Releasing a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding as you grab your notepad and slip out of the kitchen. Ready to greet him in his favorite booth.
But the moment you slip past the door, you find that the diner is empty. Not a single customer to greet you as you scan the floor in search of that familiar face. Even a glimpse of his shoes or the sound of his voice.
But the booth is empty, the diner is quiet, and it’s 12:06.
Your stranger isn’t here.
I know not too much has happened yet but we are building up to tons more smut and plot and angst and fluff, I swear!! 😭💞
Next Part:
~ Whiplash*
~ Main Masterlist
~ Blurb Masterlist
Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞
Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @lovebittenbyevans @caynonmoondreams @amberbambridge
#harry#harry styles#harry styles imagine#harry styles x reader#harry styles x you#harry styles blurb#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles smut#harry edward styles#harry styles concept#harry styles fic#harry styles story#smut#boxer!harry#boxer#harry and cherry#knockout#knockout harry#underground boxer!harry#harry styles series#harry styles fanfic#boxerry
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Ding
In this corner: a twenty-seven-year-old woman, sprinkles in her hair, someone who wouldn’t know an upper cut from a left hook, and is desperately in need of a good book and a vacation.
And in this corner: a twenty-five-year-old man, a dented car, teaching self-defense classes, and finds a good luck charm in the form of a baker with sprinkles in her hair.
Ding.
Round 1
Round 2
Round 3
Round 4 - coming soon!
#harry#harry styles#harry styles imagine#harry styles blurb#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x reader#harry styles smut#harry styles fluff#harry styles writing#harry styles angst#harry styles blurbs#harry styles imagines#harry styles x y/n#one direction#one direction writing#harry styles one shot#harry styles fic#ding#boxer!Harry
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˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚em's masterlist˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚
masterlist key:
☾ angsty
ᡣ𐭩 fluff
ִ ࣪𖤐ִ smut
Boxer!Harry
a fight for us ☾ᡣ𐭩
harry's fighting for respect for his girl
i'm okay baby ☾ᡣ𐭩
harry's injured and y/n's his emergency contact
grovelling ᡣ𐭩
a silly little blurb
TattooArtist!Harry
girls who drink espresso martinis ᡣ𐭩
where he's an asshole but she's pretty
be mine bee ᡣ𐭩
harry officially asks bee to be his.
Pleasing Pâtisserie ᡣ𐭩
a silly little story about the business name
happy birthday my moon ᡣ𐭩ִ ࣪𖤐
it's harry's birthday!
so you wanna marry me? ᡣ𐭩 ִ ࣪𖤐
harry's overworking himself for money to afford for the future.
no big deal ☾ᡣ𐭩
something so small can mean the world to the other person.
Miscellaneous!harry
fratboy!harry x professor!reader
after class ࣪𖤐
fratboy harry has a hot professor and she calls him in after class.
Harry Styles
always come back to you ᡣ𐭩
harry finally comes back to her.
Dormmate!Harry
if only you knew, bunny ☾ᡣ𐭩
always can count on your dorm mate
just the two of us ᡣ𐭩࣪𖤐ִ
dorm mates becomes more
#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x fem!reader#harry styles x plus size reader#harry styles x poc#harry styles x reader#harry styles x you#harry update#harry x reader#harry angst#harrt styles#harry styles x y/n#harry styles masterlist#masterlist#tattooartist!harry baker!reader#harry smut#frat boy harry#harry fluff#harry au#harry styles moodboard#poc!reader#boxer!harry#boxer au#baker!reader#librarian!reader
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Boxer!Harry
sunflowervolvimp3
NFWMB
cherryfabi
Model!y/n & Boxer!Harry argue before his match
1944sunflower
Sucker Punch
lovemepleaase
Black and Blue
hrina
In the Ring
4everinsane
Boxer!H Imagine
Wanderingtrash
His Whiskey, Her Ring
#Harry Styles Oneshot#Harry Styles Fic#Harry Styles Fanfiction#Boxer!Harry#Boxer!Harry Masterlist#Harry Styles x Reader#Harry Styles x Y/N#Harry Styles x you#Harry Styles Angst#Harry Styles Fluff#Harry Styles Smut#AOKMasterlist
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speechless
#harry styles#harry styles ai#harry styles angst#harry styles shirtless#harries#louis and harry#harry styles fanfiction#mechanic!harry#boxer!harry#drug dealer!harry#drummer!harry#teacher!harry#boyfriend harry#boyfriend!harry#famous!harry#dad harry styles#dad!harry#hot dad alert#daddy#love on tour#one direction aesthetic#one direction moodboard#harry styles smile#harry styles story#harry smut#harry styles messy layouts#harry styles moodboard#harry styles manip#nurse harry#doctor harry
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boxer/personal trainer
boxer
143 by @havethetimeofyourstyles
NFWMB by @sunflowervolvimp3
black & blue by @lovemepleaase
in the ring series by @hrina
part one: jab
part two: cross
part three: hook
part four: uppercut
personal trainer
make you sweat by @atlafan
harry is y/n’s much older personal trainer by @haaarry
- part two
360 series by @sunfleurry
- part two
- part three
his blood sun series by @looselucy
#harry styles#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fic rec#harry styles boxer#boxer harry#boxer!harry#personal trainer#boxer#harry styles personal trainer#harry styles au
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color
“need you so bad.” harry mumbled, his kisses starting to trail down y/n’s jaw, bloody and bruised knuckles holding onto her hips. the sweat was still fresh on his skin, new droplets dripping down his body. he could feel her nails digging into his back, excited for them to drag down and leave long red streaks to see when he gets in the shower later.
“yeah?” y/n’s head was tilted back a little, pushing against the wall behind her, feeling wet kisses all over her neck.
when harry had his arm raised up in the air while being announced the winner, he couldn’t even think of anything else except for y/n. his entire body ached but it ached for her more, just desperate to get back to her with that belt around his waist.
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the way you would so slay boxer harry!
Oh you think? 🥰 I’m flattered you think I could do that trope justice 🥰
I’ll have to file this away for a rainy day when I want something new to write. 🥊🥊
Thank you babe!
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Are there and boxer!Harry fanfics???
#boxer!harry#harry styles#Harry styles x reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles fanfic#boxerry#boxarry
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please add me to the tiny dancer taglist!!!
hi! thank you so much for reading! unfortunately, tiny dancer was never finished and i don’t think we’ll be finishing it any time soon. i’m so sorry!
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The Secret Spot
5.1k words
Golfrry, quick escalation, shy Harry into vocal Harry, oral m recieving, p in v, quickie situation.
I didn’t edit this at all, just written in a whim lol.
“Cassie! You’ve been assigned to a party today!” Martin called out as he walked through the locker room handing everyone their assignment slips. I brushed my hair up into a ponytail high on my head so I could slip my visor on.
“Is it a big one?” I said, pulling out my white apron and tying it around my waist, slipping in my small order pad and favorite green pen with the small golf ball topper. It was always a conversation started with the club members; and conversations always led to good tips.
“It's a small three person party, I heard it's a big name, haven’t confirmed who yet - you'll have to pick up your slip at the front desk. It's a bit hush hush.” He shrugged and I nodded, making sure my shoes were tied properly as my friend Kyle came up to me.
“Hush hush, huh? I hope for your sake he’s hot,” He smirked, pushing all his weight onto his left hip. Whoever thought it was a good idea to let Kyle interact with the older men at the golf club had no idea how many sugar daddies he would end up by his second week on the job.
“Kyle, sweetie, I don’t need them to be good looking to get good tips, I just need them to have heavy pockets,” I said standing up straight and slamming my locker shut. Pushing him out of the way gently with my shoulder I made my way out of the room heading out to the front desk.
“Be a good whore!” I heard him call out, making me shake my head and laugh. The lunch time crowd was beginning to flow in quickly; lunch time was the prime time to have a shift, people hardly ever wanted to let go of these shifts for that reason. Small waves were thrown my way from the usual crowd, I made sure to make note of my usuals, sending them extra greetings especially since I wouldn’t be assisting them today. As I approached the front desk, Cedric, the club manager spotted me, perking up instantly.
“Well if it isn’t my favorite little waitress,” he smiled, eyes back on the computer screen in front of him.
“Well if it isn’t my favorite little boss. I heard I have a part assigned today?” Leaning on the front desk, I reached over the counter, grabbing a mint packaged in the signature green of the Ocean Wells Country Club, earning me a soft smack on the hand. I pulled the mint to my chest, quickly opening it and popping it in my mouth, Cedric rolling his eyes.
“Yes actually, and I’m sure you will thank me for it. I had to pick wisely and my soul told me you would be the only one to not act like a crazed fan girl when I told you who you would be serving today,” I watched as the small slip printer started printing out our usual assignment slips, he quickly ripped it off the machine and slid it across the front desk to me.
Raising an eyebrow, I slowly picked up the slip and looked it over, my eyes widening at the sight of the names on the slip.
Niall Horan
Harry Styles
Mitch Rowland
I looked up at him, jaw slightly dropped, “You’re fucking joking right?”
“Nope, not a joke at all. As a matter of fact, they are walking in at this very second,” he smiled, pointing his chin in the direction of the front door. My body seemed to turn quicker than my head, but once it followed, my eyes were instantly drawn to Harry. He was wearing a navy sweater over a slightly brighter blue dress shirt, matching slacks and brown golf shoes. He has recently cut his hair, a frenzy in the media, but it had grown out to perfection, short on the sides, a swoop of curls wanting to remake their appearance on the front. His face was perfectly layered with growing facial hair, it made him look so mature and well cultured. He looked like money, and well, he was. It wasn’t until they were almost in front of me that I noticed the three of them had made their way to the front desk - and that I had been staring like a gawky girl in love.
I quickly cleared my throat and turned to face Cedric who chuckled a bit as I made myself busy organizing the business cards on the desk, chewing on the mint in my mouth. I felt their presence next to me soon after, Niall standing the closest to me, Harry doing most of the speaking for the party.
“Hello, we had reservations under Styles?” He said kindly, his voice so soft spoken and kind. I didn’t expect anything less if I was being honest.
“Yes, Mr. Styles, Mr. Horan and Mr. Rowland, we are all ready for you. You have been assigned to start on the left, two golf carts have been assigned, one for you and one for your caddies. Your personal waitress, Cassie here, will also have her own cart to bring drinks, cigars, food and any other desired items here at the club,” Cedric spoke, his hand gesturing over to me, causing all three men to turn their eyes to me. Each smiled, making eye contact, but only Harry’s lingered just a moment longer than the rest.
“Nice to meet you all, I’m here for whatever you may need, even making sure that the other isn't cheating,” I smirked, making them chuckle a bit.
“She's a club favorite, you’ll enjoy her ever present company,” Cedric said in a slightly condescending tone.
“I’m sure her services will be appreciated,” Niall said, clearly noticing Cedric's tone.
“Very well then, here are your keys, golf clubs should already be loaded, enjoy your time here at Ocean Wells Country Club.”
I nodded at Cedric, turning to the front door and holding my arm out to let the gentleman know they could carry on ahead of me before I began walking slightly behind them. I noticed Harry’s pace slow a bit more than the others as we made our way over, his attention turning to me for a moment, clearing his throat.
“Would you mind starting us off with some whiskeys, over ice please. We will need lunch reservations at around two, we should be finished with our game by then,” he said, unable to make eye contact fully.
“Might I suggest 2:15 to make room for any delays and travel time back to the cafe?” I said politely, his eyes shifting to meet mind more predominantly. They were a beautiful shade of green, tricking the eyes to think they were blue, crystal clear in certain lights - glimmers of aquamarine.
“You know the place better than I, 2:15 is fine,” he smiled small my head nodding, for some reason my cheeks found themself washed over with a flush of pink.
We exited out into the warm summer sun, a sigh instantly leaving me, eyes closed as my face moved to look up into the sun, taking in its heat. Summertime was my favorite time of the year, it’s when I thrived most, when I felt most alive. Bringing my face down, I opened my eyes to find Harry already looking at me, quickly looking away when he noticed my eye contact.
We all stepped into our individual golf carts, they drove off to their first hole as I drove to the cafe to pick up their first round of drinks. I placed the order, waiting until they were brought out, throwing in some complimentary pretzels and beer cheese to start them off right. I carefully loaded everything into the cart, driving my way over to where they were. By the time I had made my way over, they were on the second hole, Niall currently lining up his shot before swinging effortlessly, the ball landing right next to the hole but not quite making it in.
I watched as he handed Harry a twenty dollar bill, Mitch and Harry laughing at how upset Niall looked. I pulled up behind their carts, Harry’s attention quickly moving over to me. He walked over as Mitch chose his golf club for his turn, reaching for the tray of drinks as I moved out of the cart.
“Oh you don’t have to do that, I got it,” I smiled, both our grips steady in the tray.
“Truly, I got it,” he smiled, his hand brushing my hand away. I felt my breath get caught in my throat as I swallowed, turning back to grab the tray with the pretzels and cheese.
I faced him, smiling shyly, “I figured you all would do well with some post game fuel? No one has ever hated our pretzel and beer cheese. It’s a club favorite,” I smiled, his eyes took in the food as Niall and Mitch made their way over to us.
“What’s all this?” Niall smiled, Harry’s eyes staying on me as he spoke.
“Cassie brought us a club favorite apparently,” he finally broke his eye contact, handing a drink to each of the boys as I nodded.
“I could drink the beer cheese if it wasn’t frowned upon,” I shrugged as Mitch reached over, ripping off a piece and dipping it in the cheese. He took a bite, eyebrows raising, nodding as he pointed to the tray with the remaining piece in his hand.
“Holy shit, let the stuck up pricks stare at us cause I’ll down it with you in a second,” he exclaimed making the rest of us laugh.
Niall and Harry took a piece each, copying Mitch in every single aspect, quickly praising me for my choice in game starting fuel. For the next few moments they stood around me, eating and drinking to their satisfaction before agreeing to move onto the next hole before anyone else began the same course, though I of course knew that wouldn’t happen. They were elite guests, no one would be assigned to this side of the club until two hours in so they would take all the time they wanted.
I loaded the empty glasses and trays into the back of my golf cart, hearing Harry yell out as my eyes caught Niall and Mitch driving off without him, middle fingers in clear sight, “Fuckers!”
Covering my mouth, I bit back my chuckle, shaking my head, “Need a ride?” I called out, his body shifting to face me, an eye roll following.
“I swear they know how to act proper,” he shook his head, shy dimples imprinting on his cheeks.
“Proper isn’t exactly my style, so, eh,” I chuckled, getting in my cart and patting the seat next to me. He walked over, getting in, hands wiping down his thighs. I took in his actions, my eyes taking in his face with a soft smile, before facing forward and starting up the cart.
“So how long have you been doing this for?” He asked softly, facing forward.
“Umm? Three years? Trying to make enough money to pay for college. The goal is to finally start this coming spring, but we shall see,” I shrugged, glancing over at him. He turned to me for a moment before we both looked forward again.
“What are you wanting to study?” He continued the conversation, his voice a bit stronger than before, almost as if he was slowly getting more comfortable.
“Social work, work with youth in the foster system. I want to be able to help people in a way I wished someone helped me when I was in foster homes,” I swallowed, my grip tightening slightly on the wheel as I drove. I could see Niall and Mitch in the close distance.
“That sounds like a beautiful full circle moment?” He said, questioning if that’s what it really was to me.
“Uh…sort of? I guess. I mean, you’re not the first person to tell me that, but I’m not exactly sure if I see it in that light. Just because, I don’t know if it’ll give me the healing most people think it will,” I said as I parked behind the other carts. We both turned to face each other and he nodded slightly.
“Mm, that’s understood. Your trauma isn’t healed just because you helped others avoid the same,” he said softly, a smile pushing into my left cheek.
“Exactly,” I breathed out, his lips rolling into his mouth. I couldn’t help but linger there, linger on the plumpness, the perfect rosey pink, the perfect Cupid’s bow. I shifted in my seat, “Um, shall I get you all some iced tea? Or water? Second round?”
He cleared his throat, moving to exit the cart, “Um, water and another round please, thank you.”
I watched as he moved towards his friends without another word and I drove back to the cafe to pick up their next round.
HARRY'S POV
I walked towards Niall and Mitch, willing myself to not turn back towards Cassie. Since laying my eyes on her upon arrival, something struck my heart in a way I hadn’t been struck in a while. She radiated electricity, not warmth, not light, electricity. She seemed to shock my entire system by just standing there. It didn’t help that I was aware it wasn’t just my eyes lingering for too long - hers on my lips just now shocking my soul.
Running my fingers through my hair, I approached Niall and Mitch, Niall’s hand slapping Mitch’s chest, “Told you!”
“Told him what?” I said, raising an eyebrow, walking over to my caddy and picking out my next club.
“You’re already smitten, been smitten since we walked in,” Niall said, my eyes narrowing in his direction.
“What the fuck are you going on about? I’m just being polite, she’s treating us well,” I said, picking my club and walking over to prep my swing.
“Full of shit, you both are eye fucking each other any moment you get!” Niall said, my eyes rolling and Mitch just laughed.
“He kinda has a point,” he said, standing next to Niall, arms crossed in front of his body.
“You both are idiots,” I said, turning back to the ball, pulling back and taking my first swing. It was such a lousy swing, the back of my hand meeting my forehead. They were wrong, it was obvious they weren’t, but I didn’t want this to be just another damn hook up situation. She seemed like a good person who didn’t deserve that, even if she didn’t mind it.
“That swing shows me that we aren’t,” Mitch teased, and I shook my head.
“Look, she’s beautiful, there is no damn denying that, but I’m not letting it get to my head, alright? Let’s just play the damn game.” I pushed past them, switching clubs so we could just continue playing.
We finished up the hole and moved onto the next when Cassie finally joined us again. She brought over our drinks and water, making conversation with Niall. I tried to avoid her this time around, watching her from a distance. At least this way I could take her in, and not deal with the teasing from my mates.
She was so animated when she talked, often twirling her long brown hair as she spoke, the white uniform, trimmed with green making her tan skin pop against it. She smelled like an apricot, something I noticed on the drive to the previous hole with her. Sweet, fresh, something I would gladly bite into. I shook the thought from my head, bringing my hands behind my head, linking my fingers together. I closed my eyes, inhaling the summer dry air, it was my favorite season to bask in, just taking in the sun, letting it warm my skin.
“Seems like they left you again,” I heard Cassie’s voice next to me, my left eye opening to peek over at her.
“I feel like it’s going to be a thing for the rest of the game,” I let my arms drop down next to me, a small giggle coming from her.
“Well, it’s okay, you have the best golf cart in the entire club to save you,” she winked playfully.
“Thank goodness for that,” I smirked, as she shrugged, walking backwards to the cart before turning around completely. I followed like a lost puppy behind her, watching her full hips swing from side to side as she walked away from me. I licked my lips, biting down on my lower lip, walking around the cart as I reached it, getting in.
“So, are you enjoying your break from work?” She asked, her eyes shifting towards me, and I let mine meet hers instantly.
“Yeah actually, nice to not have to be moving constantly unless it is my choice to do so. I like that I can just settle for a bit,” I said, her eyes shifting down to my hand then back in front of her.
“I like settling. Just knowing somewhere is home. Moving around so much when I was younger, it made me crave stability, you know?” She said, and I nodded.
“It’s like, rooting your feet somewhere long enough to actually make it feel like it’s your home,” I responded, bringing a big smile to her face.
“Exactly, exactly that,” she giggled a bit.
We drove for a bit longer, trying to find the boys at the next hole but they were nowhere to be seen. She came to a complete stop, pulling out her phone, “Maybe I went the wrong way? But I doubt it, I know these pathways like the back of my hand.”
I rolled my eyes, tossing my head back knowing exactly what they were doing, “I’m sure it’s not you. I have a feeling those assholes are long gone right now.”
“Oh..,um, I can head back if you want? You don’t have your clubs so…” she suggested, her face glancing over her shoulder then back at me.
Staying quiet for a moment, I took in the situation, analyzing the possibilities and that one that stood out the clearest was - I didn’t want to leave her just yet. I brought my hand to my lower lip, pinching it softly as I turned to face her, “You know this place like that back of your hand right?”
“Basically.”
“You have a place you like to hide out, that no one knows about?” I said, her eyes narrowing a bit, before a slightly devilish smile appeared on her face.
“I do actually,” she said, putting the cart into drive without another word.
“Going to show me?” I said, and she nodded.
“An adventure on company time? Why not.” She giggled, making me laugh with her.
We drove for a good five minutes, the golf cart cutting through different courses, avoiding people’s games and paths. We reached what seemed to be a back corner, a giant tree settling into the corner. It’s long thick trunks and branches seemed to bend, creating perfect nooks to rest in the shadow away from the sun. She park just to the side of it, turning off the cart, holding her hands out.
“Voila!! My secret spot,” she smiled, getting off and walking over to the tree. I watched her climb on top of it, effortlessly finding her perfect spot, settling into the curve that seemed shaped perfectly for her.
“How many people actually know about this?” I said, walking over, trying to pick the perfect place for me to climb up and settle.
“Just my friend Kenny, but he wouldn’t know how to actually get here. Just knows it exist….so like please don’t kill me or anything cause then I’ll never be found.” She pointed at me, making me laugh as I found my spot directly in front of her, our legs extending out next to each other.
“I won’t, I promise, I wouldn't know how to get back without you,” I said, sitting up for a moment to slip on my sweater before settling back. Unbuttoning the sleeves on my dress shirt, I rolled them up to my elbows, finally relaxing.
“Did the tattoos have stories?” Cassie said.
“Some. Others were just crazy ideas, things I thought would fit the bare spaces. A couple friends have chosen,” I smiled over at her.
“So if I said to get a turtle near your palm tree you would do it?” She asked, my head tilting slightly knowing my palm tree wasn’t currently exposed.
“And how do you know about that?” I crossed my arms in front of my chest, both eyebrows raised at her. I watched her eyes widen, reds and pinks covering her sweet cheeks.
“Oh….I just…um, Niall he uh —…”
Bursting into laughter, I cut her off, shaking my head, “Cassie, I’m aware some people know more about me than I may know, I’m just twisting your arm.”
I kicked her legs softly with my foot, her eyes narrowing and returning the same gesture. For the next moments, we just sat in silence, taking in the small noises of the golf course, the bits of wind on the tree leaves. Every now and then we would ask one another questions about our personal life. I had no problem opening up to her and her with me, letting her tell me about the things that seemed to just magically pop into her mind.
As we sat, our bodies also seemed to scoot further down, feet and legs sharing soft touch against one another, knees rubbing gently against her thigh, her fingers also moving to dance around my calf. I let my own do the same, small chills forming on her bare legs. We stayed this way until she let me know we needed to head back soon, the time we were meant to be out on the course was almost over, and she would have to finish the rest of her shift.
I nodded in agreement as we both moved to begin our climb down. I made my way first, extending my arms out towards her to help her lower herself the rest of the way down, her perfect self landing perfectly in front of me. Her eyes locked on mine, tongue licking over her lips, breath heavy from our proximity.
“How much longer did you say we have?” I said softly, my hand moving to push her hair behind her ear.
“I didn’t specify,” she said, her voice shaky, my head nodding as I bravely closed the distance between us and kissed her. It’s what I wanted, and though her movements were hesitant at first, her eagerness in kissing me back let me know she wanted it too.
I wrapped my hand around the nape of her neck, gripping at it, pushing her closer to me, her mouth opening up and letting my tongue meet hers. I ran it across the roof of her mouth, pulling away as my teeth pulled her lower lip with them. She shuddered softly, a soft moan escaping her pretty pink lips.
“And to think I thought you were shy,” she whispered, hands trailing down to my hips, fingers tapping softly against them.
“Mmm, being shy doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want, and what excites me,” I quipped back, earning me a small raised brow.
“And what do you want?” She pushed up on her toes, kissing nose as her hands began pulling my dress shirt out of my pants.
I inhaled sharply through my nose, fire growing in my stomach, blood beginning to rush to my prick, “Fuck sake, you really wanna know?”
She nodded, undoing my belt buckle and pants, working the zipper down as her hand slipped into the band of my brief without question.
“You. You on top of me in that golf cart. Fucking me until you can’t anymore,” I groaned as her hand wrapped around my length, freeing me from the restriction of my clothes, pumping up and down my length.
“Mmm, get in the cart, Harry,” she said, releasing her hold on me, pushing me back. I watched as she began stripping free of her clothes, and I did the same as we walked over to the cart, sliding into the back seat. She climbed into the space next to me, bending her body over to take me in her hand, pumping up and down my shift before slipping me in her mouth. Her tongue rounded around my tip, teasing along my slit making my abs contort, my legs shooting up slightly, body tensing at the feeling.
She chuckled, the vibrations adding to an additional sensation around my cock, as she pushed her mouth further down me, bobbing up and down until she took me completely, nose meeting my happy trail. I felt her swallow me further down her throat, my hand instinctively wrapping around her ponytail, holding her there as my hips bucked forward.
She pushed against my hold, pop off me with a gasp of air, her spit covering my cock, her hand replacing where her mouth was as she wiped her mouth with the other. She moved closer to me, kissing me deeply, my hand curling around her jaw, not able to get enough of her, of her taste.
Of her sweet apricot scent.
My hand moved down to her hip, gripping at it and directing her over my body, her legs straddling my hips, her hands both moving to my shoulders. I pushed her wet center onto my shaft, guiding her hips up and down it, her slick and spit creating enough lubrication to guide her movements further.
“Oh fuck,” she gasped, her hips rocking back and forth on me, her thighs clenching as she did, “Mm, I need you.”
She moaned, her eyes moving to mine, pants falling from her lips as her movements grew incredibly sloppy, her face was so flushed, nails digging into my shoulders.
“Yeah? Where do you need me? Huh? Tell me where,” I pressed into her lips, her moans growing more frequent, lips pressing an open kiss into my chin as I felt her come on me, arousal coating my cock thickly.
Her body trembled, her teeth biting at my chin, my hand moving up to her face, gripping under her jawline tightly, “Hmm, you need more than that?”
She nodded, “Please.” She basically begged.
“Mm? What more do you want, huh? Tell me Cassie,” I groaned at the thought of her saying she needed me inside her, at what that would feel like.
“Fill me up, please. God, Harry, please,” she breathed, pushing body up, gripping at my cock, bringing it up to meet her wet cunt, rubbing the tip against it before slipping herself down on me. It was a slow moment of taking me inch by inch, each moment further down met by the tight squeeze of her walls. She finally took the last bit of me in, each of us groaning out in pure ecstasy, before she began to lift her hips again, bouncing up and down on me effortlessly. Her perfectly round tits were in front of me, bouncy with her, begging to be in my mouth, my hands wrapping around them and bringing them to my lips. My tongue flicked at her nipples, pulling at them between my teeth, her moans escalating just like her pace on my cock.
“Fuck you do that so good, that wet cunt is so good,” I groaned into her tits, biting at the plump fleshy skin, kneading it with my hands. I slipped on arm around her waist, pumping my hard cock up into her, matching her pace.
“Oh, yes, Harry, just like that. Fuck just like that….god,” she moaned, her hands pulling my face to hers, kissing me deeply, our tongue sloppily running against each others. I slipped my fingers between us, rubbing her clit as I continued to pump in and out of her, her movements hardly existent, her legs trembling, her head knocked back in pleasure.
I could feel her tight cunt fluttering around me, pulling me deeper into it, her arousal already soaking down my thighs and hers. I wanted to taste every bit of it, I wanted it to coat me completely, make me filthy in it.
“You wanna come for me, Cassie? Come all over my hard cock, sweet girl? Hmm? Cock so hard for you, wants to fill you up. Can I do that? Can I fill up that wet cunt? Watch you squeeze me out after? Yeah?” I whispered into her neck, kissing along it up to her ear.
“Oh yes, Harry, fu-fuck, yes, yes, fill me up, oh…Ha-Harry I’m going to…I’m..” she gasped, her walls clenching around me, her hips pushing forward, legs clenching around me tighter, “Oh fuck, yes.”
She breathed out in relief, a moan so damn sexy I could have came at the very sound of it. I kept bucking my hips up into her, letting her ride out her high on my hard cock, taking in the way her body and face reacted to the feeling, only turning me on more. Both my hands gripped at her hips, fucking into her harder and quicker until I came, my hips bucking up and holding place their, shooting warm ropes into her fluttering walls.
We both came down from out high, her face nuzzled into my neck, my hips final relaxing and lowering back down, bring her carefully with me.
“Cassie baby, do something for me?” I whispered, a tired nod coming from her. She carefully sat up, eyes locking with mine.
“Pull off me sweet girl, squeeze out my come for me, let me see it drip out of you? Yeah?” I breathed out and she nodded, lazily doing as I instructed. She pulled off of me, both of us groaning. My eyes locked into her sweet cunt, watching her squeeze my come out of her, “Fuck, yes.”
She smirked tiredly, reaching down and covering her fingers in it, bringing it to her lips, licking them clean slowly. I met the other side of them, helping her, until she pulled them away so we were sharing the mix of our arousals on our lips.
Pulling away, she sighed, pushing her forehead on mine, “Mmm, I’ve never christened my secret spot before. Must be my lucky day.”
I chuckled, pressing one more kiss onto her lips, “We can do it again tomorrow. I have time. Find other places in this club to christen.”
“Mm? Sounds like a challenge.”
“I never liked when things came easy anyways.”
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Whiplash*
Summary: The second part to Knockout*
The one where Harry does something dangerous in the shadows, and he'll do anything to keep you out of it.
Word Count: 9.4k (again...so sorry)
Content Warning: 18+, smut, mentions of violence, slight blood kink, slight pain kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms
There’s no protocol for what to do when a handsome stranger you hardly know (but occasionally fool around with), stops showing up at your diner.
You stare at his booth for far longer than you should. Willing him to appear. To walk through the door and make things right. Ease this ache in your chest.
You have no way to contact him. You don’t know his last name, or his phone number, or his address. You don’t even know his license plate number. He’s a ghost to you. More than a stranger but less than a friend.
You give him a few more minutes to appear. Maybe there was traffic. Or maybe he forgot you were working tonight.
But soon, a few minutes turns into an hour, and booth 505 remains empty.
So, you put the idea of him to bed. Carrying on with your shift while wearing your heavy heart on your sleeve. Perhaps he’s gotten bored with you. Or perhaps he’s found other ways to occupy his nights.
You almost think you’d prefer this alternative to the other. The one where he’s not here because he’s not…here. That wherever he goes and whatever he does has finally caught up to him.
It makes your stomach wrench to imagine, and you forcibly shove the thought free before returning your attention to your newest pie.
Peach. Another one of Harry’s favorites.
3 a.m. has never felt so liberating. Bringing you the perfect escape as you clock out and rush through the doors for the parking lot. Eager to rid yourself of this wretched night and head back to your apartment to worry about your stranger in peace.
You step out into the cold morning air and pull your jacket a bit tighter around your frame. Exhaling a shaky breath that you can see dance across the dimly lit space.
There are only two other cars over by the right side of the building, and much to your continued dismay, you notice that Harry’s still isn’t one of them.
So, with a sinking stomach, you reach into your pocket for your apartment keys, and begin walking for the subway. Yet right as round the corner of the diner, you notice something move within the shadows just beside you.
With a jump, you gasp, and spin around on your heel with your keys raised and aimed at the ready.
The figure that emerges sends your heart straight into your throat.
“Harry?” You drop your arm and move closer for a better look. “What…what…?”
The battered and bruised man offers you a tired smile that hardly reaches his lips. “Hi, Cherry.”
He looks worse than you’ve ever seen him. There’s a nasty slash going down his left eyebrow, a dark bruise forming along his jaw, and blood dripping down his arm from beneath his sleeve onto the pavement below.
You search for the right words – for any words at all – but before you can, he’s stumbling forward. Just barely able to catch himself before he collapses onto the ground.
With another gasp, you surge forward, quickly taking hold of his shoulders in order to keep him upright. “Harry—”
“M’okay,” he murmurs, and you can hardly hear him. As if he barely has the strength to speak. “I’m fine. I promise—”
“Harry,” you repeat for a third time, almost incredulously. “You…this is not fine. You’re…what happened?”
Even before he shakes his head, you know he won’t truly answer. “Nothing. S’just a little worse this time, but I’m okay. Really.”
You feel sick. Sick that he’s so hurt, sick that you can’t help him, and sick because you don’t understand who does this to him. “Okay, we…we need to get you to a hospital, we need to get you some help—”
“No.” His head shakes again, a bit more insistently. “No, I can’t go to a hospital. I just…I had to see you.”
You feel your throat constrict. “What?”
His hand lifts, palm finding your jaw until he can softly caress your cheek. And you feel a streak of blood smear across your skin from where his thumb brushes at your chin.
“I had to see you,” he repeats softly. “Had to make sure you were all right. M’so sorry I wasn’t here earlier.”
You want to bury yourself in his arms. Want to kiss him, and hold him, and fix him. Make everything better again.
“It’s okay,” you nearly whimper. Pushing yourself into his touch. “I’m just really worried about you.”
The smirk grows. “I’m all right. I’ll go home, take some pain pills, and be right as rain by tomorrow. Really.”
You’re hardly convinced. “Harry—"
“I’m all right,” he insists, dipping down to press his forehead to yours. “You don’t have to worry about me, Cher. S’not the first time this has happened, and it won’t be the last. I’ll be okay. I just wanted to see you.”
And you don’t believe him. You don’t even think he believes him. But he smiles at you as though he wants to. As though he wants to offer you any sort of consolation for his pain. To make this better…for you.
You allow him to hold you a moment longer before you pull back and declare, “I’ll help.”
His brows pinch together. “What?”
“I’ll help. I’ll go with you. Make sure you’re okay, and…and help you clean up.”
His expression softens, but he sighs heavily. “Baby, I can’t…I can’t ask you to do that—”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”
“I know, s’just…” He holds your cheeks in both hands now. Keeping you in his sights. “I made a rule with myself. A promise that I wouldn’t drag you down with me. That I’d make sure you were okay, and that you’d never hurt because of me.”
The pit in your stomach deepens, but you merely straighten up. “How could this hurt me? I just want to help.”
“I know, sweet girl,” he breathes. “But letting you come with me means breaking my rule. And I can’t do that. I won’t.”
You wonder what he means. You wonder if you really want to know.
“Then you come with me,” you decide. “You can come back to my apartment, and I can make sure you’re all right.”
Another heavy exhale, but you can tell he’s touched. “Cherry—”
“I mean it. You’re not…Harry, I’m really worried about you. You can hardly stand and you’re bleeding from more places than one. You could have really hurt yourself and you shouldn’t be alone. I won’t let you be alone right now.”
He considers this. “Cherry, I’m trying to protect you—”
“And I’m trying to protect you, too,” you argue firmly, but with a persuasive grin. “Please let me.”
There’s a long lull of silence, those gentle green eyes studying you closely. He looks so very tired and wrought with grief. Yet when he sees you…his entire world seems to change. Lighting up about as bright as the moon.
“Okay,” he finally agrees. “Okay, we’ll go. I trust you.”
I trust you. Three little words that have never sounded so good and you can’t help but push up onto your toes to kiss him as gingerly as you can.
“Okay, where’s your car?” you ask, letting go in order to look around. “My apartment isn't too far, so I can drive until we—”
“No.”
“What?”
He squeezes onto your wrist almost pointedly. “No, we can’t…can’t take my car. S’not safe.”
“Oh…” Your lashes flutter. “All right. We…we can take the subway. I was going to take it anyway because a friend of mine is borrowing my car for the night, but…that can work. We can make that work.”
He says nothing, instead swaying a bit from the loss of blood as you rush to take hold of him once more.
“All right, okay. You’re okay,” you murmur softly. “Just hold on, okay? It’s only a few stops to my place, and we’ll be there in under twenty minutes.”
He nods weakly in response, and you’re quick to pull his arm around your shoulders in order to help guide him through the parking lot.
He seems grateful for this hold on you. Smirking to himself before leaning over to press his lips to your temple. Keeping you tight against his chest as though the two of you are merely going for a stroll in the park.
Like a real couple.
You cling to his stained hoodie and help lead him toward the subway station. Making sure that you don’t walk too fast (or too slow) in order to get him there in one piece.
You don’t talk much – although there’s so much you want to say – but you can tell he’s pleased. Grateful to be in your company, even despite the circumstances.
Once the train arrives, you both slip through the doors, and take a seat near the exit. You push your shoulder into his and he pushes his shoulder into yours. Leaning against each other almost contently and smiling to yourselves as the rest of the crowd saunters on.
The subway is relatively empty for this time of night. Or rather, early morning. And you’re more than all right with that. It means less people to stare at the bloody, bruised man dripping onto the train floor.
He doesn’t notice the odd looks. He doesn’t seem to notice anything but you, instead staring down at where your fingers are tracing his. The way they run tenderly over the cracked skin across his knuckles before intertwining together.
He hums contently, lips stretching into a gentle grin.
You’re at your stop only fifteen minutes later, practically leaping onto your feet in a rush to get him out.
He seems to have a bit more energy now, perhaps from being able to rest for as long as he did. But he still holds onto you as tightly as he can while you walk along the sidewalk.
And you can’t help but let him.
“My apartment might be a little messy,” you attempt to preface as you head inside the tall building. “I was going to clean it before I left, but something…came up.”
He nods understandingly before glancing over the side of your profile. “Are you all right?”
“Am I all right?” you tease, gesturing toward him.
He smirks, but that curious look doesn’t slip. “Are you?”
You press the elevator button with one hand and squeeze his palm in the other. “I will be once you are.”
Apartment 505 is on the left side of the building, just beside the stairwell. It gives you a perfect view of the city, and you spend most of your days out on the stairwell watching the sun rise and set.
There’s a wreath on your door, hanging just over the number, and your stranger smiles when he sees it. Seemingly amused by the bright flowers and dainty bow that stands out amidst the dark grey paint.
After fumbling with your keys, you finally manage to get you both inside. Exhaling a deep breath and tossing your things toward the coffee table.
“Lock it,” he murmurs just as you’re moving for the kitchen.
“What?”
“The door. Lock it,” he says, almost firmly while nodding toward the handle. “Right now.”
A tad surprised by the resolute tone of voice, you nod, and turn around to oblige. Making sure the lock is turned and the door is secure before glancing over for his approval.
“Good girl,” he mumbles. “I want you to always lock it when you come in, all right? Always.”
“Okay,” you agree softly, returning to him. “I will.”
“Promise?”
“Promise,” you whisper, raising your hand to his face to press a kiss to his cheek. “Can you let me take care of you now?”
He seems to chuckle as he allows you to stroke his jaw. Settling into your gentle touch before nodding.
Pleased, you take his hand, and lead him toward your small bathroom. Sitting him on the edge of the bathtub in order to get a better look.
But the moment you see each cut and scrape beneath the bright, fluorescent light, there’s a hitch in your breath. Overwhelming you with sorrow and anguish at the sight of him.
“Harry,” you exhale, almost unintentionally.
His lashes flutter as he smiles, reaching out to lightly tug on your waitressing dress. “M’okay, Cherry. Really.”
He’s not okay, and you both know it. “I’ll…I’ll need to clean them first. Where…how many are there?”
A beat while he thinks. “There’s a couple on my chest. Plus, the one on my eye, and, you know, my hands.”
You nod, and vaguely gesture toward him, willing yourself not to shake. “Can…may I take off your hoodie? So I can check?”
The corner of his mouth curls up and he nods as well, reaching for the collar of his sweatshirt in order to begin peeling it off his torso.
You attempt to help, making sure he can get his arms through without having to bend too far or cause any strain to the injuries.
But once it’s off, you feel your stomach twist.
His skin is littered with scars, scrapes, and fresh bruises. A variety of colors that range from light pink to an unsettling yellow. Blood is smeared across tattoos you didn’t even know he had, and there’s a rather nasty gash along the side of his ribcage.
You hear yourself gasp, and he quickly tugs on your hem again. “Cher—”
However, you brush his hand away and move closer, running the tips of your fingers along his shoulder and down his sternum. Trailing each inch of stained skin until you reach his heart.
“Harry…” you say again.
He takes hold of your wrist and offers you a look of remorse. “I know.”
You aren’t sure you have the strength to ask, instead swallowing thickly as you pull back, and turn around. Searching through your cupboards for everything you’ll need.
He watches you closely, and it seems your reaction causes him more pain than anything else. It’s a look you know well. One where he’s desperate to comfort you, and you wish you could let him.
You rejoin his side with bandages, rubbing alcohol, and a sterilized needle with thread. “All right, I have to clean them first, and then…”
His eyes flick down to the suturing supplies with a smirk. “Ah.”
You grimace. “It’ll probably hurt.”
To your surprise, he shrugs. “No worse than what gave me the cut, I imagine.”
You hum to yourself and move for the alcohol. “And this might sting.”
“Mm. I’m counting on it.”
Dipping a cloth into the potent liquid, you begin to dab at each open cut that’s painted along his body. Making sure to be as gentle as you can and avoid any potential infections.
He tenses every few moments, jaw ticking as he takes steady, even breaths. But he makes no noise of complaint, nor does he flinch away from your touch. Almost leaning into it as you move between each scratch.
“How’s that?” you whisper, glancing over his face curiously before moving for the cut on his brow. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” he murmurs, red-rimmed eyes trained on you. Seeming to study you while you study his injury. “M’okay. Are you?”
You smile. “Yeah. Don’t like hurting you, though.”
“You’re not. Could never.”
“Hope you’re right.”
You smooth back the dark hairs of his eyebrow as gingerly as you can before reaching for the medical tape. Cutting the strips to the right length, you place a couple over the cut, and step back to observe.
“All right,” you declare. “Now, um…now I’ll need to…”
You both look toward his stomach where the worst gash lies, and he nods. “Where do you want me?”
“Just…there. Is fine.” You collect the needle and thread before crouching down near him in order to get closer. “It shouldn’t take too long. Be over before you know it.”
“All right.” He’s oddly calm, and for some reason, it makes you nervous. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been stitched, Cherry. I’ll be all right.”
“I can see that,” you mumble to yourself, reaching now for his abdomen. “Just…tell me if it hurts too much, okay?”
“Okay.”
With a deep breath, you pinch his skin between your fingers, and bring the tip of the needle closer. Piercing the skin and threading it through slowly and with great precision.
He looks down, watching for a moment almost as though fascinated. “You’re really good at that.”
You offer a tight-lipped smile. “Should hope so. Spent three years learning how to do it.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. My, uh…my parents really wanted me to pursue a career in the medical field,” you explain as you continue working your way down. “And I thought being a nurse would be good because I liked the idea of helping people. And I liked learning about the body and how to heal it.”
His eyes remain on you.
“Anyway, it didn’t…I didn’t have a great experience in medical school,” you continue. “And it made me realize that it wasn’t what I really wanted to do. I wanted to…help people through food, I guess. Which probably sounds silly—”
“No,” he says, almost immediately. “No, it doesn’t.”
You smile a bit bigger. “Well, my parents were pretty pissed when I dropped out. Which makes sense, since they were the ones paying for it. But…they told me that if I wanted to pursue baking, I’d have to do that on my own. Financially, anyway. Hence all the late shifts at the diner.”
His brows furrow together almost sternly.
“And I don’t mind it. I really like working there. I like my coworkers, I like the people I meet.” You pause now and brave a glance up. “And I really like that it brought me to you.”
There’s a softness in his expression that makes your heart skip. “M’glad it brought you to me, too.”
You chew on the inside of your lip to suppress a rather giddy grin before returning your focus to the wound. “All right, your turn.”
“My turn?”
You nod your chin toward his injured body. “Why do you keep letting this happen?”
He sighs, and his stomach tenses with the strained breath. He wears the same look he wears each time you ask, and you already know he’s searching for the right way to deflect the question.
“I don’t know.”
You expected nothing less, yet tonight, you insist upon the truth. Scooting closer as you glance up almost pleadingly. “Where do you go? Who does this to you?”
He hesitates. “Cher—”
“I won’t judge you. I’d never judge you, but this isn’t…Harry, this is really scary. And I want to make sure you know what you’re doing.”
Another heavy pause as you continue the suture. He contemplates his response, the small bathroom filling with a tense sort of energy. You wonder if the truth hurts him more than the scars.
“I…fight,” he finally says, and you feel your pulse stutter. “I get paid to fight. Three nights a week.”
And even though you’d already begun to assume that was the case, you feel the blood drain from your face. “Harry…”
“It’s okay,” he murmurs quickly, reaching out to brush his thumb along your cheek. “I’m okay.”
You want to argue, but you bite your tongue. Zeroing in your focus on your hands.
“I like it,’ he continues. “Don’t know why, but there’s just…there’s this rush, you know? This adrenaline. Makes me feel alive to be so close to death, I guess.”
You hum quietly, features pulling together in a wince.
“S’about the only thing I’m good at, too,” he adds with a wry chuckle. “And all I have to do is win.”
Your head lifts. “This doesn’t look like a win.”
“Yeah, well. You should’ve seen the other guy.”
And despite his attempt at humor, you look back down, lashes fluttering.
It’s quiet for another long lull before he says, “It’s how I met you.”
You choose to keep your eyes downcast on the needle this time, but your ears perk up.
“One of the guys I work with said your desserts were the best he’d ever had. Said he used to go there all the time, for every fucking meal.”
You pull the thread though his stained skin and he sucks in a sharp breath.
But his story is undeterred. “And I always get kind of a sugar craving after a fight, so I thought I’d go. And then…you.”
You remember the night vividly. The sight of him, hands wrapped in gauze, eyes dark and inquisitive, that familiar hoodie pulled over his head.
He was mysterious and strange, and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
You have been ever since.
“And he was right,” Harry whispers now, tucking his finger beneath your chin until he can see you. “Never had anything as sweet as you.”
Your heart returns to your throat, and there’s a sort of longing in your stomach that can’t be tamped. You aren’t sure if you want to laugh or cry, so you merely release a soft sigh and finish closing the wound.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” you ask of him again. “Really?”
He runs his tongue over his cracked lip. “Sometimes.”
“And would they let you leave? If you wanted to?”
The silence is deafening.
His thumb moves to your mouth, brushing over the pink fibers that part for him. “Maybe one day I’ll be brave enough to find out.”
It’s not a perfect answer. But it’s the one you choose to cling to, reaching up to squeeze his wrist in desperation.
You suppose this explains more than you realized. Why he won’t tell you who he really is. Why he won’t let you into his world. Why he insists on keeping you safe.
But it only makes this new reality that much heavier.
“Just make me a promise, okay?” you exhale. “Promise me that you’ll be all right. That you’ll stay safe. That you won’t…”
The unspoken word carries a weight that nearly crushes you, and he seems to understand as he squeezes your chin.
“That you’ll always come back,” you finish.
“I promise,” he says, even if you both know it’s not a promise he can make. “Always.”
You kiss him. Quickly and without pause, surging forward until your mouth meets his. You take his lips between your own, careful to mind the cut while remembering just how much he enjoys the sting.
Instantly, his hand curls around the back of your neck, tugging you as close as he can get you. Tongues tangling, teeth clashing, and soft grunts that reverberate all the way down to your chest.
“Careful,” you gasp, attempting to pull back when he guides you between his legs. “Your cut—”
“Don’t care,” he whispers, bringing you back to nip at your bottom lip. “Don’t fucking care.”
You whimper against him, hands resting delicately on his chest. “Har—”
“I know. Just missed you. Really missed you, sweet girl.”
He tugs you between his thighs and you allow yourself to be moved. Melting into his touch as he uses his height advantage to fully take control of you. In more ways than one.
Desperate pants fill the tiny bathroom, and you can’t help but feel undone by him. Already feeling a certain throbbing in the pit of your stomach that can’t be tamed by anything else but him.
“Harry,” you try again, moving your hands to his hair. Carding your fingers through his matted, bloody curls. “Please…”
And then…you feel it. Rather, you feel him. Hard and prominent, pressing right up against you.
You gasp, and he rests his forehead against yours. Cursing to himself when you nudge yourself forward.
And that’s when you realize.
“Does pain turn you on?”
There’s a quick pause before he nods once. Trailing his lips along your cheek and toward your throat.
Your head spins. “Really?”
Another motion of his head. “It’s not really pain when it’s you.”
Breathlessly, you drop your touch to his lap, palming him through his dark jeans while he groans again and buries his nose in your neck. Inhaling you deeply while bracing himself against your knelt frame.
“Think it’s my turn now,” you say. “My turn to be good.”
The grip on your neck tightens, and you can feel him release a warm exhale against your collarbone before he’s kissing just below your ear.
Then, he shakes his head, and mumbles, “No.”
You stop, fingers freezing over the bulge between his thighs. “What?”
“No,” he repeats gently. “S’not about me. Wanna make this about you.”
You lean back just far enough to catch his eye. “But—”
“There are a lot of things I’ll never be able to give you. Or do for you,” he explains gingerly. “But I can do this. I want to do this, sweet girl. Wanna give you the fucking world because it’s what you deserve.”
You consider this for only a moment before settling on the floor. “Har…”
His head shakes once more. Thumb stroking the curve of your jaw while tilting your eyes up. “Never be able to tell you how beautiful you are. I don’t…I can’t even understand it. You’re perfect, Cherry. So fucking perfect, and I will spend the rest of my life wanting to be near you.”
It’s a sweet sentiment. One that nearly knocks the wind from your lungs as you gaze at him.
“Wanting to taste you…” he continues, dipping down to brush his nose against yours. “Feel you…touch you. You…are the best goddamn thing I will ever have.”
You whimper, pushing yourself closer until he finally kisses you. “Then let me…”
But he merely smiles. “One day, sweet girl. I promise.”
You want to push. You almost want to insist that he let you take his cock into your mouth, but the look on his face is resolute. Decisive. You aren’t changing his mind, at least not tonight.
And you decide that maybe it’s for the better. His body needs to rest in order to heal, and perhaps any extra strain would hurt him or rip the stitching.
So, you oblige. “Fine. But I’m holding you to that.”
With a chuckle, he kisses you again. “Good girl.”
The kisses grow more frantic. About as frantic as before, and you have to physically yank yourself out of his grasp in order to calm yourself down.
“No,” you say this time as you stand. “No, you need to lay down. And rest. Okay? Give your body time to heal. And get better.”
He watches you go, but he’s unconvinced, already looping an arm around your hips to pull you back. “This is how I get better.”
And even though you’re concerned for his health, you can’t deny the pulsing between your thighs. “Harry—”
“You make me better,” he says, trailing his lips along your arms, all the way down to your palms. “Always. Fucking always—”
You whine beneath a strained breath, your other hand dropping to his head as you tug on his hair.
In turn, he moans against you, and your knees about buckle. “Let me get better…please…”
And it’s almost like he doesn’t realize he’s said it. A subconscious thought that’s whispered against your skin until it becomes one with your bloodstream.
“Want to,” you say. “I want to, but you need to rest. I need you to rest, Har.”
“I am,” he tries to argue, glancing up through those thick lashes of his. “This is me resting.”
“Harry—”
“Please,” he nearly groans again, pressing his nose into your stomach. “God, please, Cher. Please. M’so fucking lost on you, I can’t…I need…”
He told you once that you’re like a drug to him. That he goes through withdrawals if you’re not near. If he’s gone too long without you.
And, truthfully, you feel about the same. Feeling strung-out and shaky without his touch. Even the sound of his voice. It’s borderline pathetic, yet you don’t ever want to be rid of him.
“You need to rest,” you repeat, although you’re losing conviction. “I want to, but I can’t…I’m worried. You shouldn’t move, you should rest.”
The air becomes charged as he looks back up. “Then ride my face.”
You hesitate. “What?”
“Ride my face,” he says again, practically groaning the instruction. “S’easy, right? Won’t have to move. I’ll just hold you, yeah?”
You feel the heat rush into your cheeks as you blink down at him. “I…you’re already hurt. I don’t want to suffocate you, too—”
“God, suffocate me,” he sighs, grabbing onto the backs of your thighs. Squeezing the flesh in his strong, battered hands pleadingly. “You’d never hurt me, baby, ever. S’all I fucking want. Don’t want anything else but you. Only you. All of you. Want you everywhere.”
And you believe him. You do. But the idea of…and being that close…
“What…but what if it’s too much?” you murmur. “What if I’m too…—”
“Never.” A firm shake of his head. “Fucking never. You would never be too much. Believe me. Tasting you is the only good thing in my life.”
There’s a catch in your throat that you swallow down. “I just…I’ve never…”
His expression softens. Thumbs brushing at your exposed skin before squeezing once more. “It’s okay. S’okay, sweet girl, really. Don’t have to if you don’t want to. Don’t have to do anything at all. But…I promise you…you could never do anything wrong. Ever. You breathe and you’re perfect.”
And he’s so honest. So good. You know he means it, know he’d never lie about something like this. And you do trust him. More than anything. Trust that he’d never judge you or want anything more from you than what you’re willing to give.
“If you say no, then it’s no,” he adds gently. “End of. Promise.”
But that’s not your problem. You’d happily do anything and everything with him. But you’re worried about his injuries and all the blood he’s already lost. Granted, his suggestion would perhaps be the best alternative, but…
“Fine,” you whisper, squeezing his curls in your fist. “Okay. But you need to be very careful and very still. And if it starts to hurt, we stop. Okay?”
There’s a wicked gleam in his eye. One you recognize all too well, yet it merely makes your pulse jump.
“Okay,” he agrees, almost mischievously. “Deal. Just lead the way.”
You bite back a whimper before glancing toward his knuckles. “I need wrap your hands first—”
“No,” he interjects. “No, leave ‘em. Just for right now. Wanna see them when I hold you.”
And there’s something about the idea that leaves you breathless, making your nails curl into his scalp as if to drag him closer. “Are you sure—”
“Yes.” He tugs on the hem of your dress again, almost as though trying to rip it off. “Yes, m’sure. Please, Cher…”
And you have no choice but to oblige.
You reach down, take his hand, and pull him onto his feet. Quickly and impatiently leading him out of the bathroom and down the hall to your room before pushing the door open and bringing him inside.
He only takes a moment to look around, eyebrows raised while a smile plays at his lips. He studies the array of artwork you have displayed, the baby blue paint on your walls, and the plethora of pillows that sit near your headboard. He seems…enchanted, almost, and it makes you giddy.
“S’cute,” he decides, offering his smirk to you. “Very cute. Very you.”
“Thanks,” you reply anxiously, already looping your arms around his neck in order to yank him back down. “Please?”
He chuckles against your lips before dropping his hands to your waist, nodding once, and pushing you back. “Do you trust me, baby? Trust me to take care of you?”
“Yes,” you answer instantaneously. “Yes, always.”
“Yeah? Know I’ll take care of you?”
“Yes.”
He drops you onto the bed before chasing after you. Lips on your cheek, your neck, your chest. Fingers playing with the buttons on your chest before he whispers, “Can I take this off, sweet girl?”
You motion your head almost frantically, leaning back to give him room.
He undoes your dress and slips it over your head in a matter of seconds. Leaving you in nothing but your underwear as he tosses it toward the floor before surging forward to kiss you again.
He’s seen you before. Seen your chest, your stomach, your thighs. But never in the privacy of your own home, and the way he seems to look at you now feels as though it changes everything. Like he’s looking at you for the very first time.
“Baby,” he breathes, pulling your lip between his teeth before groaning. “God…s’fucking cruel you have to hide this behind such a hideous dress.”
You grin against his mouth, scooting back in order to make space for him. “Then maybe you should come around and take it off more often.”
He likes this idea, chuckling to himself before grabbing hold of your hips, and flipping over onto his back. Effectively pulling you with him until you’re straddling his waist.
With a gasp, you glance down to his newly stitched cut, quickly inspecting in order to make sure nothing has been ripped or pulled. “Harry, you can’t—”
“Shh,” he coos, pulling on the back of your neck to bring you down again. Nose nudging with yours. “M’okay. I’ll tell you, yeah?”
“But—”
“I’m all right,” he insists quietly. “Promise. Just need you.”
You swallow the rest of your complaints, allowing your body to be pulled into his before he’s moving both hands to your naked thighs. Stroking along the tender, soft flesh and kneading it tenderly.
“Think you’re ready, baby?” he whispers. “Hm? Gonna let me have a taste?”
And even if you’re somewhat apprehensive, the lust that swims within the bottom of your stomach makes you whimper. Urging you to say, “Yes. Yes, I’m ready.”
“Good girl,” he hums, gliding his palms toward your ass before patting it once. “Up you go.”
You imagine you seem somewhat terrified, but his look of encouragement goes straight to your cunt. Encouraging you up his body until you can place your knees on either side of his head.
“Good,” he breathes, eyes already gluing to your panties. “So good, baby. Can you hold onto me? Hold onto my hair? And tug it if it’s too much?”
You nod weakly and drop your fingers to his curls. Brushing them gently while he smiles, lashes fluttering.
“Good girl,” he says again, and it makes you clench around nothing. “M’gonna pull you down now, okay? Don’t worry about anything. Just let me make you feel good. Promise I’ll be all right.”
You whimper beneath a deep breath before nodding again and allowing him to guide you down to his face.
You feel the tip of his nose ghost across the edge of your panties, right near your clit. And you can help but buck up, gasping as you squirm away from the stimulating touch.
But his hold on you is unrelenting, tightening when he feels you twitch before yanking you back into position.
“Uh-uh, sweet girl, none of that,” he warns softly, mouth dancing down your covered cunt. Tauntingly. Deviously. “M’just having some fun, yeah? Gonna let me have fun with such a pretty pussy?”
When you don’t answer, he gently smacks his hand against the side of your thigh.
“Yes,” you answer quickly, gathering his curls in your fist. “Yes, I…I will.”
“Mm. Good. Cause m’having so much fun with you, Cher. You know that? Always have fun getting to play with what’s mine.”
This possession sends chills down your spine and your chest heaves from the way he flattens his tongue against your underwear before dragging it down.
He seems to bask in your whines, moaning against your cunt before curling his fingers into your skin. Forcing you down even further until you’re nearly sat on his mouth.
His technique is sinful. Just enough to tease you and leave you wanting more. Effortlessly casting out any doubts or hesitation as you begin to settle in his hold, permitting him to keep you against his tongue until he sighs contently.
“Fucking killing me, baby,” he says, lifting you up in order to reach for the soft material against your pussy and drag it to the side. “Ready, sweet girl?”
You nod quickly.
“Promise to tug me if it’s too much or you want to stop?”
“Yes…yes, Har, please—”
“I know,” he shushes. “Just so well behaved for me, aren’t you? Hold still for me, all right?”
You go to nod again, but before you can, his lips are meeting your clit. Pressing the most innocent of kisses to the sensitive nerves until you choke on his name and yank his curls.
He seems to realize this aggression has more to do with the pleasure than the pain, and you can practically feel him smirk into your cunt before he does it again. Over and over and over, making your eyes roll back and your throat run dry with desperate pants and whimpers.
Then…he sucks. Takes your clit into his mouth before flattening his tongue and dragging it through.
You’ve never felt this kind of stimulation. This kind of overwhelming pleasure that goes directly to your toes.
Sure, he’s eaten you out before, but he’s never been this…close. He’s devouring you from the inside out. Forcing you against his mouth as though his life depends on it.
The hold on your hip is unforgiving, and you’re almost sure you’ll see remnants of him on your skin tomorrow. The tips of his fingers tattooing to your waist and marking you as his forevermore.
You aren’t sure what to do with yourself. Overcome with lust and infatuation for the man between your thighs. The way he expertly slides his lips through your folds, drowning in you.
The tip of his tongue teases your hole, and you feel him groan at the way your pussy flutters from the slight intrusion. And the vibration of his greed makes your hands tighten in his hair. Nail scraping so hard down his scalp, you’re sure you’ll draw blood.
But he loves it. Seems to thrive off it. Going in a bit further before dragging your arousal up to your clit and flicking.
Then, he swallows you down.
“Harry,” you gasp, and you wish you could see him. Wish more than anything that you could gaze down at his face and watch while he does this to you.
He always tends to get a sort of mesmeric look in his eye when he’s making you cum. Almost like he’s in a trance. Hypnotized by your body, drunk off the way he’s making you feel.
You imagine that’s about how he looks now, and you’d give anything to see those beautiful, hazy eyes just once.
“You’re okay,” he whispers, pulling away just long enough to speak. “You’re okay, yeah?”
You nod quickly. “Yes. Yes, I’m okay. I promise—please…”
He understands your request perhaps better than anyone and smiles to himself before going back in. It’s far too easy to unravel you, it seems. All he has to do is suck, and flick, and slide his mouth along your dripping pussy, and you’re done for. Already nearing release before he’s even really begun.
He senses this, and instantly goes harder. Faster. Tongue fucking into your clenching hole relentlessly until you cry out his name…and let go.
You hardly have time to register what’s happening or warn him of your impending orgasm. Nor do you have the time to remove yourself from him before accidently crushing him between your thighs and beneath your weight.
Yet through every second, he holds on. Keeps you exactly where you were, stuck in his hold, glued to his tongue. Until every drop of your cum belongs to him.
“Har…Harry,” you pant, uncurling your fingers from his hair. “Okay, it’s okay…I came, I—”
“I know,” he mumbles, leaving another kiss to your clit. “And you’re gonna do it again.”
It’s resolute. He leaves no room for bargaining or questioning before he’s going back in. Quick flicks of his tongue through your pussy until you feel breathless.
It’s sloppy. Everything about it is sloppy and wet. The sounds, his technique. The way he makes out with your cunt as though it’s the best thing he’s ever had. And, truthfully, you imagine he believes it is.
He repeats the movement of his tongue along the overstimulated nerves until you begin to shake. Never letting up, even when you begin to whine rather pitifully. Instead, he squeezes your waist, and keeps you close. Makes sure you take every second of this blissful affliction until you cum for a second time.
The moment you do, he readjusts his hold on your panties in order to slip a finger inside. Forcing you up onto your knees so he can nip at your clit and fuck his finger into you with a newly determined fervor.
“Harry,” you cry out again, moving one hand to your headboard to brace yourself. “Can’t…can’t—”
“You’re all right,” he hums, the tip of his nose pressing hard into your skin. “You’re all right, sweet girl. Just want one more, okay?”
And you believe him. You do believe you’re all right, even if the painful pleasure he’s dragging you into nearly kills you. Making your legs shake and your lungs heave.
You want to give him another. You want to give him all of your orgasms, forever. And he knows this, so he adds a second finger, and pumps you mercilessly.
The sound echoes through your room, loud and lewd. But it intertwines beautifully with his soft murmurs of encouragement:
“Good, baby, just like that. Fucking squeezin’ me, aren’t you? Hm? S’it feel good? Feel so good to ride my face?”
You can’t answer. Want to. Can’t. Skin growing hot as sweat beads at your hairline. Muscles burning, aching, crying out for reprieve.
But all you really feel…is him.
“One more, come on,” he urges, increasing the speed of his tongue and his thrusts. “Can feel how close you are, sweet girl. Know you want to, yeah?”
You whimper softly, body tensing with the impending release.
“Yeah? I know. Know you’re so close. Bet it hurts, doesn’t it? S’just too much for this sweet little pussy, hm?”
He curls those long digits into your cunt until you moan, thighs trembling beside his head as you attempt to keep yourself upright. “Har, please—”
“What? What do you need?”
Everything, all of it, whatever it takes. You aren’t even sure, you just need…more.
He moves his mouth to the inside of your leg. Kissing and sucking into the tender skin while his fingers continue to encourage you closer.
“Just taste so good, don’t you?” He trails his lips back toward your cunt. Lazily mouthing at your clit as if to torture you. “Get so wet for me. S’precious. So fucking precious.”
He uses his fingers to spread you open. Exhaling against your dripping cunt until you begin to squirm. Writhing away from the sensation while he does it again.
“Mm-mm,” he tuts, pulling you closer. “Told you no, sweet girl. Said I could play with you, so I am. Thought you were behaving for me?”
He exploits your need to please him. To obey and win his approval, and it nearly drives you mad.
“Know it’s a lot, baby,” he coos next, slipping back inside and curling. “Know you’re all sensitive. Not used to being so overstimulated, are you?”
He’s right, you’re not. Apart from him, nobody else has ever really taken the time.
“Makes me wonder,” he continues gently. “Wonder how you touch yourself…here in this very room.”
He pulls your clit between his teeth and tugs until you gasp.
“Tell me, Cherry. Tell me how you touch yourself when I’m not around.”
Your mind goes blank. Darkening around the edges while you suck in quick pants for air.
“Tell me,” he repeats, coarse and riddled with an insatiable hunger. “Tell me what you think about. D’you think about me, baby? Think about how good you look on my tongue?”
You find just enough strength to nod as you squeeze his curls and whimper out your agreement.
“Yeah? Go on, tell me.”
Your mouth drops open, yet nothing else comes out. Save for a plethora of pathetic whines and anxious mewling.
He seems to laugh, the low sound sending goosebumps across the back of your neck. “What’s the matter, Cher? Pussy got your tongue?”
You can hardly acknowledge the joke as you go reeling forward, just barely able to catch yourself against the headboard before collapsing. “You…you,” you finally groan. “Always you, Harry. Always.”
“Me?” You can hear the faux fascination. “You think about me, baby? What do you think about?”
What don’t you think about? “Your…your fingers,” you stammer. “And…and your mouth.”
“Yeah? Good girl. What else?”
You’re too close to think straight, already falling victim to your orgasm before it’s even found you. “You…your…your…”
“S’okay, baby, come on. Tell me.”
You swallow thickly and will yourself to speak. “Think…think about taking you. About how you’d feel. How you’d…be.”
“How I’d be, hm?” The hand on your hip tightens almost possessively. “How would you want me to be? How would you want me to fuck you?”
An array of positions flash through your mind. The echoing of his groans and pants in your ear as he fucks you. The way he’d hold onto your leg and push it into the bed. The way he’d pull your hair and demand you take him. That you behave, be good.
There’s something about him, you realize. Something about his dominance that makes you feel safe. Seen and cared for.
You want him to tell you what to do. Want to give him full control of your body and mind. Make your decisions for you so you don’t have to wrestle with them yourself. You trust him. Trust that he’d always put you first.
“Any way you want,” you finally answer. “Any…any way. Hard…slow…fast…deep. Just wanna be good for you.”
The noise he makes against your pussy is animistic. Virile and obsessed, and his mouth reattaches to your clit almost like a reward.
“Good,” he nearly growls. “Know you would be. Know you’d be fucking perfect, yeah? Let me stretch this sweet, little pussy anyway I’d like?”
“Yes. Yes, Harry, please—”
“Just take it, wouldn’t you? Take me so well?” He yanks you down so hard, you wonder if he can even breathe. Truthfully, you don’t think he cares either way. “What else do you think about, sweet girl? Think about me tying you up?”
You nod zealously, sneaking a glance at the headboard almost as though to recreate your fantasy.
“Yeah? What else? Would you want me to spank you?” He follows this inquiry up with a quick – albeit gentle – slap to your outer thigh. “S’that what you want?”
“Harry—”
“What about your pretty, little throat, hm? D’you want me to hold it in my hand? Squeeze it till you see stars?”
The thought sends you into a frenzy. Stomach flipping in on itself until you’re clenching so hard around his fingers, you’re surprised they don’t break.
“Yeah? Oh, sweet girl,” he coos, slowly and almost inconspicuously sneaking a third digit into play. Filling you exactly the way you need. “My dirty little Cherry just wants to be taken care of, doesn’t she?”
You have nothing more to offer him. No more noises, no more whines, no more pleas. Your throat has gone dry, and your body is trembling almost violently.
He grins. “Then I’ll always take care of what’s mine.”
You’re not sure what does it. If it’s the way he strokes his fingers into that sweet spot in your cunt, the way he skims his tongue against your clit, or if it’s his promise.
But no matter the cause, your third orgasm overwhelms you. Pulls you down into the deepest part of your pleasure before ripping you apart. Seam by seam.
He swallows every second of it. Attempting to drag the stimulation on for as long as he can before you have to psychically take yourself away in order to breathe.
“Okay, okay,” you whimper, returning to the bed just beside him. “Can’t…I can’t…”
“Okay,” he agrees in a soft, soothing tone. Quicky reaching out to press his hand to your cheek while his thumb brushes at your heated skin. “Okay, we’re done. Did so good for me.”
Your lashes flutter as your vision slowly returns, and when you see him, you about moan.
During his ravaging of your pussy, the cut on his lip reopened, and now, blood is smeared across his mouth and chin. Glistening from his skin right beside the remnants of you.
You don’t imagine you’ve ever seen something so erotic. You also never imagined you’d find it so appealing, and yet the way it looks painted across his sharp jaw and swollen lips…
You surge forward and kiss him. So hard and so fast, you imagine you’ve made him dizzy.
Instantly, his palm is pressing to the back of your head. Keeping you against his mouth while slowly pulling you back into his embrace. And he holds you against his chest while moaning something that sounds a lot like, “Fucking hell.”
You kiss until the sun comes up. The soft, warm beams of light slipping through your curtains, setting the whole room – and your tired bodies – aglow.
His mouth moves to your neck. “You still with me, baby?”
You smile. “Always.”
“Good.” He leaves one, final kiss. “And you’re feeling all right?”
“Mhm. Are you?”
“Oh, I’m more than all right, sweet girl. M’fucking perfect.”
He guides back onto his chest. Limbs tangling together as he puts your body between his legs until he can hold you properly. Even despite your fussing over his injuries.
But it’s not until you’ve begun to settle that you feel it. “Harry?” you whisper softly.
“Mm?”
“…did you cum?”
He smiles before pressing his lips to your forehead. “Yeah.”
“But I didn’t…I mean I didn’t get to—"
“You just have that effect on me, Cher,” he murmurs, snaking his arms a bit tighter around your frame. “Told you. Making you feel good is all I want.”
You glance up, expression wounded. “Why won’t you let me help? I thought…I mean, you keep saying you want me to, but you never…you won’t let me.”
The bedroom falls silent as he considers this. The sage green in his eye melting into something golden from the reflection of the sunrise.
He reaches out and brushes his thumb across your mouth. Seeming to clean you of the blood that smeared when you kissed.
“I didn’t want this to be about me,” he finally says. “I never do.”
You merely frown. “But I want to do it. Do you not…I mean, do you think I can’t or something?”
A soft chuckle. “Oh, I know you can. Know you’d use this pretty little mouth just right, yeah?”
You nod.
“Yeah.” He squeezes your chin. “I meant what I said. One day. There are a lot of things I want to do with you. Be for you. But right now, I can’t…I’m not in a place where I can offer them to you. Not with…everything else going on.”
Your stomach sinks as you realize. You might not understand the complexities of his job or his life, but you do understand his concern. And you trust that he doesn’t make this decision lightly.
“Besides,” he adds coyly, “they kind of have a rule about it.”
“Oh, do they?”
“Yeah. Something about reduced testosterone and decreased aggression. I don’t know, s’probably bullshit.” A nonchalant shrug. “Just means I get to keep the focus on you. Which is all I really want, anyway.”
“I can tell,” you tease, reaching up to brush your nose against his. “Why is that?”
“Because you’re perfect.” He says it so easily. As though it needs no thought. “Baby, you have no fucking idea how beautiful you are. Touching you is the closest I will ever get to heaven.”
You wonder how he does that. How he always manages to say exactly what you need to hear. And make you believe it. Every time.
You kiss him again, but it’s slow. Soft and gentle and full of an unspoken emotion that nearly overwhelms you.
You fall asleep against his heart. His lips in your hair, your fingers on his chest. And for the next few hours, you dream of nothing but him.
By the time you wake, it’s nearly afternoon. Your muscles are sore and your body aches from the decisions and positions of the night before.
But it’s a good sort of pain. The kind that reminds you of how willing you are to do it again.
You’re both quiet as you stir, and it’s comfortable. As though you’re used to waking up together. Exchanging nothing more than smiles and a hoarse, “Morning.”
After offering him some cereal, you ask if he’d like to take a shower. Maybe change into something else before you take him back to the diner so he can retrieve his car and you can pick up yours from your friend.
He politely declines, but he does agree to your stipulation that you check his wounds before you leave. He even stands perfectly still while you assess each cut and stitch in order to make sure everything is still in place.
Which to your surprise, it is.
Once you’ve gathered your things, you exit your apartment (after locking it as previously instructed), and head for the subway station.
It’s almost strange to see him in the light of day. He’s still as effortlessly striking as before, if not perhaps more. His skin looks a bit more tan, and his hair seems softer in the sun. But he walks with a kind of confidence you almost envy, slinging his arm around your shoulders just like the night before. This time, out of possession.
And you grin the whole way there.
It feels normal. Feels good. Natural. Like it was always meant to be. You and him. Always.
Your heart begins to sink with each step closer you get to the diner. You cling to his hoodie as though it physically hurts to say goodbye. And in turn, he pulls you in tighter to his heart, as if refusing to let you.
“I’ll walk you in,” he murmurs once you reach the parking lot, and you nod gratefully. Already taking in a deep breath as you prepare to watch him leave.
You see your car near the front of the diner, signaling that your friend is here to drop off the keys. And you almost feel nervous because you aren’t sure how to explain Harry. Or if you even need to explain him at all.
If he’d want you to.
A part of you wants to protect him from everybody else. From their prying eyes and inquisitive questions. From their haughty, judgmental stares and this idea that they know who he really is.
Instead, you take his hand in yours, and squeeze. Offering him one last smile to hold you over until you see him again.
Which you can only hope will be soon.
He pushes the door open and leads you inside. Loosening his grip on you almost regretfully while your heart sinks down into your toes.
But the moment you both step beneath the light, he stops. Suddenly and with a strained inhale as fingers retighten around yours, halting you in place.
Concerned, you glance over the side of his face rather curiously before following his eyeline further into the diner.
And that’s when you see him.
“Hey, thanks again for letting me borrow your car,” your friend says, sliding off one of the barstools in order to hand you your keys. “I really appreciate it. It was a huge help.”
“Oh, yeah, no problem,” you murmur before looking back to the tense man beside you. “Uh…this is my friend, Jesse. And Jesse, this is—”
“Harry,” Jesse says for you, lips curling up almost knowingly before he’s nodding once.
Now even more confused, your head tilts while Harry’s skin instantly pales, his jaw clenching as his grip on your hand gets stronger.
But despite your muddled expression, Jesse merely chuckles to himself and steps forward, dragging his eyes from you to the tall stranger holding you.
“I see you finally found my girl.”
EEEEE I AM HAVING WAY TOO MUCH FUN
Next Part:
~ Reckless*
Previous Part:
~ Knockout*
~ Full Knockout Masterlist
~ Main Masterlist
Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞
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Ding - Round 3
Read Ding here | ~6.5k words
Warnings: scummy man appearance, angst involving the frustration/grief/sadness of the last part regarding her shitty experience with said scummy man, fluff
Summary: Harry wants to know what happened to Cupcake. She really isn't sure she wants to tell him. Until she has to.
From me: NEW DIVIDER BY @babegoals THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR CREATIVITY AND SUPPORT AND JUST EXISTING 💕
Harry was mad.
Fuming. He had thought about nothing else but seeing her for the last two months and now that he had seen her, he was pissed to see her at his self-defense class. He asked her the same question about ten times throughout the instruction. He was furious and irritated that everyone else needed his help (even though it was literally what he was being paid for) when all he wanted was to talk to her.
He was all for helping women feel empowered. But he was mad she needed it. He knew she was feisty. The fact that she was there said a lot in its own right. The way she bantered with him until three in the morning texting him the other night made him smile more than he could describe. It was flirty and sweet. But always had him guessing if she would suddenly stop messaging for one reason or another.
Someone like her needed someone—maybe even someone like Harry—to make sure nothing bad ever happened to her. And he knew. He knew why women went to self-defense classes. He had been teaching these classes since before he owned his own gym.
He knew.
"Why are y’here, Cupcake?" He asked gruffly. The other women nearby were all but forgotten. One was mid-sentence, asking to clarify something Louis had said. Harry was practically rude to just ignore her question in favor of his own.
“Umm... for self-defense,” she muttered trying to focus on Louis’ answer.
Harry didn’t want her banter right now. (As cute as it was to him, despite his irritation.) “Right. But usually everyone has a story that... convinces themselves t’sign up. So what’s your story?” He repeated.
He watched the way her cheeks warmed at his assessment, and she folded her arms protectively in front of her. Guarding herself. “That’s kind of personal, Harry.”
Once Harry’s anger took hold, it was hard to backtrack. “Listen,” he shook his head. The annoyance that clouded his eyes and covered his face was so obvious, she felt the slightest bit bad about interrupting his lesson with her own issues. “M’not good at this kind of thing, Cupcake. Being subtle. I punch people for a minimal living and work the rest of m’time here, teaching people how t’punch.”
Part of her wanted to break down and tell him. Because as much as she was willing to do this on her own, she was so scared. That nervousness made her feel even weaker, and she wanted to tell Harry, she realized. She wanted someone to know and to help her because this wasn’t something she wanted to deal with on her own—it was too much.
But she couldn’t do it right in the middle of a self-defense lesson, surrounded by strangers. “I’m here to learn how to punch,” her voice was even and final.
His nostrils flared and he stalked back to the front of the room, a trail of anger coming off him as he did. He wasn’t going to get anywhere with her.
The remainder of the lesson went by without incident on Harry’s part. He watched her the entire time. The way she flinched when they practiced moves made him nauseous. But he couldn’t help but notice how good her stances were. Almost natural. “Hey, love,” Louis smiled at her kindly as he geared up to practice more tactile moves. “You liked his match so much you wanted to try on your own?” He asked.
She smiled, but it didn’t fully reach her eyes. “Something like that.”
“It’s good skills to have,” he assured her gently, because even though Harry’s infatuation annoyed him at the time, he knew Harry liked her. A lot. Knew just as well as Harry did why women signed up for a self-defense class. “You have a very natural stance,” he noted. “We should get you in the ring,” he winked at her.
She laughed lightly. “I don’t even know how to make a fist,” she snorted.
Louis chuckled giving her a gentle shoulder squeeze and moved onto the next person.
Harry moved in front of her next and he looked at her footing. Aligned near perfectly and practiced as if she had been doing it her whole life. He was still steaming with anger. It rolled off him and demanded to be felt—and she felt every bit of it. “S’like you’ve done this before,” he muttered.
“I haven’t,” she answered. “I’m just good at following directions. Like a recipe, you know?”
He was staring at her feet and trailed up to her hand where he carefully took hold of her delicate fingers. Instantly, it felt like her whole arm was made of jelly. Her heart took off about the speed of an airplane and she was lucky she could hear anything over the sound of it. Harry touching her skin made her feel faint. Carefully, he bent her fingers and tucked her thumb below the flat of her knuckles. It felt so intimate it seemed wrong to be doing this in a class put on for the public. Holding her wrist, he brought her fist to his cheek and tapped it against his skin a few times. “Like that,” he murmured.
She wanted to be cute and smile. Say something like, I’ll keep that in mind for strangers in dark parking lots when I ding their car. But instead, she was overcome with gratitude for the knowledge and a bit of awe. She was speechless without meaning to be. He released her wrist, and she wanted nothing more than to grab his hand again and never let go. “Thank you,” she whispered. He nodded sullenly.
Harry felt defeated—something he didn’t enjoy at all. Rarely did he feel it, but he wished he felt defeated after a match more so than he did right then. All he could do was walk away from her and finish the lesson without chatting with her again.
*
In hindsight, confronting her in the middle of a self-defense lesson wasn’t his wisest choice. The following morning, he had a renewed spirit and was once more determined to chat with her and figure out what made her join a self-defense class.
What he hadn’t anticipated was how stubborn she could be. He should have known but he was willing to dig his heels in as long as she was. Harry went to the bakery morning, noon, and night—literally—trying to figure out her schedule. “Again?” The girl behind the counter asked suspiciously when they returned at four in the afternoon on the third day of waiting. She had been there all day and hadn’t said anything up until their third arrival.
Niall shook his head and sighed. “Sorry, darling. He’s being super creepy, yeah?” Niall elbowed him with irritation. They sat at a table as they had the last few days. They didn’t stay long, only fifteen minutes to half an hour. (And they only stayed half an hour once because Niall had to get one of the cronuts that he had been pining for since he saw them.)
Harry was looking at their text message thread. The last message was from him. Are you working now? C’mon, Cupcake, you’re killing me here :(
It went unanswered since yesterday afternoon.
“He’s trying to talk to Miss Cupcake,” Niall rolled his eyes. He missed the back and forth between the girl behind the counter. “But I think he’s being a bit ridiculous.”
“Oh, were you her bad date?” She frowned.
Harry was still looking at his phone, checking his schedules, and making sure he didn’t miss anything in his email or messages from his mum or sister. But the moment the girl behind the counter spoke, his head snapped up to meet her gaze.
“What bad date?” He asked, his voice low, menacing.
The girl behind the counter blanched. Feeling bad she revealed something she obviously wasn’t supposed to and quite honestly, if he was her bad date, that was a horrible thing to announce. It was a reflex. “I don’t know, actually,” she tried to backtrack. “I don’t know why I said that out loud.”
“We won’t tell, darling,” Niall assured her. “Do you know when Miss Cupcake works, it would save Harry—and you—a lot of trouble.”
“OH!” She shook her head and went around to the front of the counter. Her eyes widened. “You’re Harry. Context clues, I didn’t recognize you without gloves,” she smiled excitedly. “Thank goodness, I almost closed this place down.”
Harry turned to the girl again feeling a warmth pass over him at the idea that she talked about him to her friend. “Oh brother, so she does like Harry?” Niall grumbled.
“I’m Maeve,” she announced.
“Maeve,” Harry stood up and held his hand out to her. “Nice to meet you.”
“You have a very cute niece.”
Now Harry really couldn’t help but smile because that little girl was practically his own pride and joy. And she was very cute. Plus, it meant she really was talking about Harry to her friend and that had to mean something. “Thank you, she’s perfect,” he agreed. But then he refocused on why he was haunting the bakery. “Does she not work during the day?”
“She pops in,” Maeve shrugged and fiddled with the cupcake display. He noted there was a raspberry filled one on the top tier. He recognized that cake and frosting pair anywhere. “But she’s been mostly coming in after close,” she admitted. “She’s been a little...stingy with details about everything. She gets like this sometimes. Compartmentalizes things so she can deal with it when she needs to,” Maeve bit her lip. “She’s visiting her dad right now.”
Harry realized there was very little he really knew about her. Most of their chatting had surrounded the bakery, boxing, and Harry’s niece. There was a little bit of information about their education and some books and hobbies they liked. But there wasn’t a huge depth of knowledge of her family.
“Oh,” Harry felt defeated again. “Uh... I guess we’ll go then,” he mumbled. “Try later.”
Maeve sighed. “She really likes you, Harry. Really,” she promised with a sad smile. “She’s just...a little stubborn and careful with her heart.”
Harry nodded. “Got it,” he could handle that.
*
She parked as close as she could to the bakery in the parking lot. Thinking about all the steps and stances that Louis and Harry had told her during her class. She took a deep breath and opened her car door. As she went to the back of her car to grab supplies from her trunk, she noticed a plethora of other cars parked in the lot—most people were probably at the restaurant near the waterfront. But there was no way she could miss the car she had accidentally dinged with her door just a few spaces down and across the row from her.
Once more, her gaze met the intense green gaze in the driver’s seat. She sighed knowing there was no escaping this talk anymore. Harry put a bookmark in the novel he was reading while waiting and set it on the passenger seat beside him. He locked his car and hurried to her side, taking the heavy bags of flour and sugar she bought to tide her over until the delivery came to the bakery in the morning. He didn’t speak to her as they walked to the storefront. She was overwhelmingly aware, once more, how safe she felt with Harry beside her in the nearly deserted parking lot. She unlocked the front and held the door open for Harry to enter. “Were you waiting long?” She asked.
He shrugged, putting the supplies on his now regular table while she fiddled with the display case and cupcake display once more. The raspberry one was missing from the top and she went behind the counter to get another. Harry closed the door and locked it, so she was safe inside. It was dark, the only light was a low soft glow coming from the case of treats. It had the glow of a candle, and he wondered if there was a way to keep it that way during the day because it was so warm it made him want one of everything that was in the display. “Yes,” he nodded. “S’okay.”
That felt worse. If he was willing to admit it, it meant he was there a while.
“I’m sorry,” her cheeks felt warm. “I should have just told you when I was working,” she was willing to admit when she was wrong. Harry watched in fascination as she placed the raspberry filled cupcake on top. He wondered if it had always been the one she put on top. He would have imagined the chocolate ganache one was a fan favorite, or the vanilla sprinkles one with the little toothpick and label of A Pinch of Sprinkles on it.
He shrugged again, nearly indifferent. “S’okay,” he repeated. “Read most of my book.”
“Is it a good read?” She asked and grabbed the bag of flour Harry had settled on the table and started for the back. He grabbed the bag of sugar and followed behind her.
He nodded. “Yeah...it’s,” he sighed. “S’a little darker than I expected,” he shrugged. “Was hoping for something lighter.”
“I only read rom-coms in book form,” she smiled. “It’s very light reading, but probably not what you want.”
“Rom-coms?” He repeated. She nodded. “Y’don’t strike me as a rom-com kind of girl.”
“No?”
“Y’seem more like a film noir or suspense.”
“I’ve had enough suspense for a while,” she muttered and turned to her ovens to preheat. Harry placed the sugar beside the flour bag and sat in the same chair he sat in when he fell asleep a couple months prior. He watched her in the same way he had before as she flittered around the kitchen, humming to herself as she worked. “How’s the baby?” She asked.
They were ignoring the elephant in the room, it seemed. But it was the first time he’d seen her since the self-defense lesson. In between his visits to the bakery (his stalking grounds, as Niall was calling it) he had been splitting his time between training, teaching, and ensuring Driven, his gym, was working as expected. He had to call an electrician because the lights in the men’s bathroom kept going out despite the fact, he had already replaced the circuit and lightbulbs a handful of times. But he had gone to see Gemma and his niece two days prior to get his fix of the sweet little girl who made him feel so much better about all the frustration he felt about his favorite Cupcake.
He couldn’t help but smile. “Perfect.”
She grinned back and nodded. “Good, and your sister?”
“Good, thanks for asking,” he thought that was polite of her—he always noticed when people asked about his sister. It wasn’t often. Once the baby was there, it was like they forgot about the mum.
“Does your mom live nearby?” She asked.
“Yeah, especially with the baby. Mum sold her house the moment she found out Gem was pregnant.”
She laughed. “That’s sweet. You’re all close?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “Mum’s m’hero,” his voice was filled with admiration so thick it made her feel wobbly on her feet. She wished she had that kind of admiration for her mother. “How ‘bout you? Maeve said y’were visiting your dad? He lives nearby?”
She nodded, guarded. “I feel the way about my dad, the way you feel about your mom,” she explained. There was a pause in conversation that seemed to stretch farther than it needed to. Maybe he was trying to get her to break first. Perhaps she did. “You talked to Maeve?”
He looked at her, tapping his fingers lightly on the table. “Didn’t leave me many options, Cupcake,” he reminded her.
She swallowed thickly, nodded. “That’s fair,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“Can you please tell me?”
She shook her head. Harry felt so agitated, so defeated. “Not yet,” the bit of hope creeped back in. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she admitted, her voice cracking slightly. She swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat and turned away from him. “Sorry,” she sniffled. His heart broke. Quickly, he realized it wasn’t her wanting to hide it from him. It was painful to watch that frustration fall on her face.
“Oh, kitten,” he frowned. He stood quickly and made it to her side. He put a hand on her shoulder comfortingly not wanting to touch more than she wanted or needed in that moment. His imagination could only guess what went wrong on her date and it was painful to think about for him. He wanted to comfort her, but it had to be at her pace.
At once she melted into his touch. She turned quickly, almost reflexively into his embrace. Her face pressed against his shoulder, her arms wrapped up around his back, and she inhaled shakily. It felt awful to see her sad, feel the anxiety coming off her in waves. But Harry was grateful to hold her so close to him. “M’here, Cupcake,” he promised. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, nodded against him.
Harry could live with ‘not yet.’ For now.
*
Over the next week, they went back to texting throughout the day and chatting well beyond bedtime on the nights she wasn’t at the bakery. Additionally, Harry walked beside her from her car to the bakery when she arrived and back through the dark parking lot. Not once did he ask her what went wrong with her date even though it was killing him. She wasn’t budging. She knew Harry was waiting for more details, but she couldn’t. It hurt and she didn’t want to think about it—even if she actually did want to tell him. It was overwhelmingly kind that Harry appeared beside her car—especially at night.
“I’m still really sorry about Clay,” she frowned. Harry didn’t park far away from her like he did the other night. But she was very mindful of her opening the door and not bumping into his car.
“S’okay,” he smiled and rubbed his fingers on the little indent. “Reminds me of you,” he winked at her.
Her heart fluttered and she looked away briefly before smiling back at him. “Like you need more reminders of me,” she murmured.
“Can never have enough, Cupcake,” he assured her. “Can I kiss y’goodnight?” He asked on the third night he walked her though the dark parking lot. Her heart literally skipped a beat. Speechless. He tapped his cheek. “Jus’ the cheek, kitten. Need a proper date before I really kiss you,” he acknowledged and smiled shyly at her. That boyish grin that made her weak in the knees. Breathlessly she nodded. His lips swept across her cheek. It was brief and soft. Like a piece of her hair had brushed over her face and tickled her skin. “Thank you,” he grinned. “Been dying t’do that,” he admitted and once more tucked her safely in her car.
Harry mentioned it only twice more. He never pressed or demanded she reveal the facts of her bad date. It was more of—what he hoped was—a gentle reminder. He was waiting for more information. All he wanted was to assuage her worries and fears. She attended the second class for her self-defense lessons (dropping off a box of blueberry scones at the front desk had everyone in the class asking if they could go after the lesson to pick out their own sweet treats). Harry continued to boil with anger just thinking about her using the moves he and Louis taught her. But it was obvious he was much less angry than the previous week. More so, his anger didn’t extend to her. He was mad, but he understood her choice to keep it to herself.
Louis was going over demonstrations using Harry as the attacker. Everyone watched with rapt attention. “Your goal is to get away,” it was repeated about a hundred times and Harry had the hardest time watching her every time it was repeated. Each time it was said, she flinched. He wasn’t sure she knew it or not—it was a reflex. But she did get away. It terrified her still.
Harry couldn’t help but notice she wasn’t pushing him away. Every night, she thanked him profusely for coming to the bakery and walking her to and from the car. She could see his anger growing beneath the surface. He wanted to know. She was trying so hard to brush it off. It wasn’t a big deal. Now she had two classes under her belt, and she promised herself she would never be in such a vulnerable position again.
“Can I watch you at work?” She asked randomly. It was a morning shift this time. She was covered in flour, and she had frosting streaked in her hair leftover from when she put it up after icing four dozen cupcakes. Harry didn’t think she could look cuter if she tried.
“Watch me?” He repeated.
“Not this again,” she smirked.
He chuckled. “Y’want to watch me train?” He repeated anyway.
She shrugged. “You always watch me bake and stuff.”
“You’ve attended the class, Cupcake. S’pretty much the same thing,” he reminded her.
He noted her cheeks turned pink. “Um...if you don’t want me to hang around then—”
Harry nearly gasped. “Oh, no. No way, kitten. I want y’around. I promise,” he assured her. “Jus’ don’t want you t’be bored.”
“I won’t be,” she shook her head.
That was how she ended up sitting beside the ring, Louis padded and guarded while Harry punched and punched and punched for over an hour. His breath was heaving, and his body was slick with sweat. She watched intently examining his form and his moves like she would one day repeat them.
When he came for water at the end of his training session, he was heavy breathing and smiling at her. He struggled to get the towel he had from his bag beside her with his gloves on. “Bored?” He asked.
“Not even a little,” she assured him, grabbing the little towel and swiping it across his forehead. It felt intimate and made Harry feel warm all throughout his body. “Can I try?” She asked with an impish smile.
He chuckled and nodded. “Come on,” he held the ropes open for her to enter the ring. She wasn’t wearing the right shoes or equipment. Louis rolled his eyes discreetly at Harry and held the pads out for her to hit. “Make the fist I showed you,” she did for both hands. “S’all the balance in your legs,” he promised. “No balance, no punch, no follow-through. Punch through the pad,” he explained and guided her hand to the pad slowly so she could see how it would look and feel to go through it.
“Pretend it’s Harry,” Louis suggested. “That’s what I do.”
She giggled. “I don’t think I could throw a punch if I thought it was Harry,” she admitted and gave her best attempt. It was honestly exhausting. She only threw a dozen or so punches and was breathless as she answered Louis.
“You’ll get there,” he assured her.
Harry scowled at him. “Take the pads off.”
“No, you lunatic.”
“Coward.”
She giggled, thanked Louis, and twisted herself out of the ring again. “That was fun,” she told him. “I can see why you like it. Plus, you’re really good at it.”
Harry was staring at her, the way that sent all the butterflies in the world directly to her stomach and began to flutter as if they were trying to escape. His gaze was firm but gentle, his eyes almost glowing somehow as he looked her over. “Please tell me, Cupcake. I want t’help,” his voice was quiet, begging ever so gently.
She looked at the floor, their shoes were nearly toe-to-toe. “I can’t,” she whispered back.
He nodded, defeat did not come easy to him, and she knew that. “I have t’shower, do some office stuff. Get ready for some lessons and classes,” he told her, his voice the slightest bit disappointed.
“Want me to watch you in the shower too?” She asked hoping to alleviate the mood. It worked, his smile returned to his pretty lips, and he chuckled.
“Hell yes, Cupcake,” he shook his head at her cuteness. “Maybe next time. Not here,” he winked.
Even though it was her that was forward it still made her blush. Plus, joke or not, she agreed here was not a good idea. “I have to do some errands anyway,” she admitted.
“I’ll walk you t’your car,” but she knew he would. It was like a safety blanket being wrapped around her.
She really liked it.
*
After her third self-defense lesson she was feeling more confident. She even showed Maeve some of her moves in the back kitchen. Shadowboxing the same way that she saw Harry do to Louis the night she met him. “I don’t know who thought it was a good idea to give the Queen of Sugar boxing lessons,” Maeve rolled her eyes.
Honestly, she was feeling better. More confident. Plus, she was enjoying her not-so-date-dates with Harry. There was one night when Harry wasn’t around, and she realized she missed him so much. Not only because the dark parking lot seemed more foreboding but because his presence made her happy. Happier than she had been in a really long time. It felt undeserving to be so happy but it wasn’t something she thought about when he was actually there. I missed you.
Oh? 😍
Sorry, I know that’s...
A lot...
I miss you all the time, Cupcake. Think about you all day.
The message made her warm and she wished she could explain how simple it seemed to just have Harry fit in her life. They were busy people, but he always managed to come by and see her. She enjoyed watching him train or sitting with Sarah at the front desk and chatting while he taught classes and lessons. Maeve teased her every time he arrived and she wasn’t there. Can’t you just give him your schedule? The poor guy is going to have to train twice as hard to get rid of the extra cupcake weight.
I like to keep him guessing a little 😉
Today, she was up front on her own—one of her employees called out sick and she didn’t mind in the slightest. Working up front was one of her favorite tasks. Interacting with customers and sharing her gift was something she enjoyed thoroughly. Her other coworker was out back, working on inventory and prepping the bagels for her monthly bagel sale.
Ding.
The bell attached to the front door signaled whenever customers arrived or departed. It was a busy morning. So busy that it took her a minute to realize Harry was sitting with Niall at one of the tables. Niall gave her a wave as she finally got caught in his gaze. She waved back, smiling brightly and paused the customers that were at the counter while she ran to the back and then to the table as quickly as she could. She pecked Harry on the cheek without thinking and deposited a raspberry filled cupcake and a personal sized loaf of Irish soda bread.
Harry felt as gooey as the filling on the inside of his cupcake. Her soft little kiss made him crazier for her. Watching her made him happy. Being around her made him happy. Happier than the little kid that was bullied could have dreamed.
Niall was making noises that would have embarrassed the porn industry while eating his bread. Harry snorted at him, tried to steal a piece, only for Niall to slap his hand away. “Eat your cupcake,” he nearly snarled.
“She could make more, m’sure.”
Niall shook his head stuffing his face of the treat made specially for him.
Harry liked watching her. He wondered if it was the same way she felt when she watched him. People obviously fell in love with her the moment they spoke to her. Unironically, she was so sweet. Of course she was. It was like she was a sprinkles-fairy. This ethereal being that passed out sweet treats to everyone.
Ding.
With her back turned to get another bag, she didn’t notice the influx of new customers. When she turned back, her heart leapt to her throat. She was lucky she didn’t drop the dozen cookies she was packaging.
“Shit,” she whispered mostly to herself. He hadn’t seen her yet. Fortunately, it was crowded enough to hide behind her wall of customers. All the progress she had made, the classes thus far, all seemed for naught at that moment. Her gaze darted to Harry and Niall. They were unaware of the turmoil she was facing while she packaged treats for the next customer. Her stomach churned uneasily.
If Harry just looked at her, she knew he would know. “Hey Lexi!” She called toward the back room. But Harry was chatting with Niall. Niall was focused on his soda bread. Neither of them noticed the anxiety that swept over her. Lexi doesn’t answer at first. Making her more anxious and scared. It shouldn’t be that way. He shouldn’t ruin the one place she loved most.
Niall now had crumbs on his cheeks, but his head tilted curiously in the direction of her main display. “Harry, something’s wrong,” Niall’s voice was quiet.
Harry’s gaze snapped up defensively. Sure enough, her whole demeanor had changed. Harry could see it. Her smile was tight, and her eyes darted toward the door and the customer in front of her more times in ten seconds than Harry could ever begin to count. Harry wanted to kick himself. How long had she looked like that?
After an eternity, Lexi finally appeared. She mumbled something to her employee and headed to the back kitchen. Not even a glance in Harry’s direction. Without fanfare, without permission, Harry marched his way into the back almost as soon as she left his view.
“Excuse me,” Lexi said. “Hey, that’s employee—”
“He’s fine, Lexi,” she answered quietly.
Harry found her in the kitchen, hand clutching the front collar of her shirt, her eyes lit with anxiety while she paced back and forth. “Is he here?” He asked lowly, while she moved quickly across the kitchen.
She tried to remember the last time she felt safe. It was her dad, right? Her dad before...before everything. Before she moved her shop here. Before she uprooted her life.
But there were those brief moments where she was overcome with how safe she felt in Harry’s presence. Walking to his fight for the first time. Each time he walked her to her car. How his hand felt when he pressed her fingers into a fist.
She nodded, her eyes watering.
He spun almost immediately to do who knows what. He didn’t know and she certainly didn’t know.
“No, don’t leave me!” She practically shouted before he could hardly take a step further. She started to follow him but he stopped at the sound of despair in her voice.
Harry groaned lowly; it came out nearly as a growl. He turned back to her immediately as if it pained him. “M’never leaving you,” his eyes were so dark and desperate—her whole body felt heavy at the seriousness of his words. Breathless again. “Please don’t ask me that,” his eyes darted back toward the front of the bakery.
“Harry, please,” she whispered.
His hands were already balled into fists. He shook his head. “Cupcake,” he grumbled. It was such an oxymoron in itself. Harry was calling her one of the sweetest things in the world and it sounded downright terrifying.
“Please, Harry,” she begged, grabbing one of his closed fists. “I need you,” she whispered.
Groaning again, he rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “Fine,” he snapped.
She felt bad making him stay. She knew she was forcing his hand, but she was scared. To soften the blow, she threw herself at him. Arms around his neck, face buried in his shirt. She sighed with relief with the feel of him: solid, warm, protective against her body. Harry was safe. He proved that already and she still hardly knew him. It wasn’t hard. It shouldn’t have been hard for her date to make her feel safe.
Harry was momentarily shocked before he returned the hug, one arm looped around her back, the other cupping the back of her head. It was like the antidote to an disease she didn’t know she had. Another loud sigh escaped her. Like the feeling of Harry was cause for another wave of relief.
“What did he do?” He mumbled into her hair. She ignored him and scrunched her eyes shut. “Please, Cupcake,” he begged. She realized she wanted to tell Harry.
“I’m so embarrassed,” she whispered. “I don’t even know why I went out with him...I had met you and—”
“Doesn’t matter, kitten,” he shook his head. “He doesn’t get t’make y’feel unsafe,” he reminded her.
“It was such bad judgment.”
He shook his head again. “No, Cupcake. He doesn’t get t’make y’feel that way. S’not you. S’not asking a lot t’feel safe on a date. S’not even the bare minimum. Y’don’t have poor judgment. Your judgment got y’out of there that night. S’why y’signed up for classes and—”
It poured out of her at that moment. She told him everything. In the middle of the story, she tried to downplay it sensing the way his body tightened around her with every word. Explained why she signed up for the self-defense class. Every detail and emotion she felt for the last few weeks. How scared she was that very night. Why she requested Harry and chatted with him until three in the morning. How he made her feel better when she didn’t think she could. How safe she felt around him in general.
At the end, Harry pulled away from her.
Her heart felt heavy. Now he wouldn’t like her. She was broken and hurt. Harry didn’t want to be a bodyguard, nor should he have to be. “I need t’go to the gym,” he started toward the front, and she thought that was it. It was the last she would see of him. He was too overwhelmed with how stupid she was. This wasn’t what he wanted. Someone who couldn’t defend herself or be smart enough to see the signs earlier.
“Harry, I’m sorry—” She managed to croak with tears thick in her voice and vision. Right as he reached the threshold back to the front of the bakery. He was shaking. Every inch of him. She wondered how he wasn’t a blur from how much he shook. In the moment it took for the apology to form in her mouth, he was back in front of her.
He grabbed her firmly but still softly by the chin, held her sweet face between his palms. Gazed into her eyes and shook his head slowly. His eye contact was overwhelming but still felt so good. “You are to never. Ever. Apologize.” Her eyes welled with more tears. She couldn’t do anything but nod at him. Her heart felt so heavy and broken. But Harry was looking at her. Taking in every inch of her face and he sighed. “M’sorry, Cupcake; m'angry. But s'not something you need t'apologize for. Y'didn't do anything wrong. M'jus' mad I wasn't there for you,” he whispered and brought her back in to hold her against him once more. Her body felt relieved it was ridiculous for him to feel bad--he didn't even know she was going on a date. She didn't want him to feel bad.
"It's not your fault either," she whispered. Harry sighed with relief and he kissed the top of her hair.
She lost track of how long they stood there. It could have been two minutes or two hours. All she felt was Harry’s warm body against hers and reveled in how good it felt. “Call me a half hour before you’re ready to leave here. I’ll come walk you t’your car.”
She smiled softly, hoping to alleviate the tension now that a significant portion of time had passed. “Even if it’s in the middle of the night and—”
He didn’t think her joke was funny at all. “If y’call,” he repeated, interrupting her, his eyes were hard and serious. No room for joking at all. “I’ll be here.”
He was rapidly making her fall in love with him.
*
“Hey Dad,” she smiled softly sitting across from him at the dinner table. He grinned at her.
“Hey sweetie. How was your day?”
“Good! Did you see the game?” She asked. He nodded.
“Your guy did well, don’t you think?”
She laughed, shaking her head and blushed a bit. “Max Kepler is not my guy, Dad.”
“I didn’t say his name, honey,” he reminded her with a chuckle.
She rolled her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek. “I think I met a guy, actually,” she rushed out quickly.
“Oh?” He looked at her curiously, tilted his head ever so slightly and smiled. “That’s nice, sweetie. You haven’t had a boyfriend in a while. You need someone to...chat with, depend on,” he said knowingly. “I want to know you’re taken care of.”
“Dad, that is so 1950s of you. I don’t need a guy to take care of me.”
“Oh honey, I know you don’t. But I want you to have someone,” his voice was gentle.
For a moment she just looked at him. Thought long about all the things that had happened since she met Harry almost three months prior. It was a big deal to tell her dad about Harry. She wanted to make sure it was the right move especially after she was feeling poorly about her gut feeling. But she thought of Harry, the reassurance he gave her that it wasn’t her poor judgment that caused her bad date.
“His name is Harry. He’s a boxer,” she shrugged. “The raspberry filled cupcakes are his favorite.”
“Well, then he’s perfect. Right?”
She laughed, nodded, then bit her lip. “I mean...he’s...” she sighed forgoing all the details about how she was insane to let him steer her to his boxing match. How he helped her with self-defense classes. And why she was taking self-defense classes. No. She would tell him how they met another day. When Harry and she defined more of what their relationship was... if there was a relationship to be had. “I like him,” she admitted. “Then that’s all that really matters, honey,” he assured her. It felt like a blessing.
She couldn't wait to see Harry.
--
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i'm okay baby: h.s.
pairing: boxer!harry x librarian!reader
summary:
"yes, is this y/n y/l/n. emergency contact for harry edward styles, date of birth february 1, 1994?"
"this is she." i whisper as my eyes water and anxiety rushes throughout me, my heart drops to the pit of my stomach.
"we're just calling as you are the emergency contact for mr. styles, to let you know that mr.styles is at The Royal London Hospital, seeking treatment."
or
harry's injured and y/n's his emergency contact
or
another story for a fight for us
𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘'𝐒
𝐏𝐎𝐕
i relax my shoulders and let the cool air of london graze my face, snow flurries cover the sidewalk as i make my way to my car. the feeling of someone hot on my trail makes my shoulders tense again, i turn around and see a dirty man, stood about 5'6 and built on the chunkier side along with two other guys. i raise an eyebrow at them as the one moves closer to me.
"can i help ya?" i gruffly ask and one of them smirks, yellow busted teeth glaring back at me.
"you lost us lots of money." he snickers, " 'nd now you're gonna pay."
the next actions are so fast i don't even know what's happening until i feel a punch to my jaw, one to my side, and another one in my back. i close my eyes before opening them and throwing a punch back, i don't make much progress as three people are on me. i don't watch where i'm punching as i continue to through one after the other. one of them manages to hit my eye before i feel something sharp hit my lower abdomen and another sharp pain right above my waist, pain takes over my body and i look down with hazed eyes. i watch as the two men pull out knifes and blood gushes out of the wounds, i double over in pain letting out a wheeze.
"be happy it wasn't your bitch." he grunts before throwing a kick to my back, one of them moving in front of me to kick my face and the other kicks my stomach.
"hey!" i hear a man from a distance shout and the three start to run in the opposite direction, "go after the bastards!"
fuckin pussies.
letting out grunts i feel a hand lay on my arm, i shuffle away and the man murmured, " 's okay kid, helps on the way."
"999 what's the address of you emergency?" i hear a female say before my eyes start to flash black and white like a camera going off before i finally close my eyes resting at the peaceful silence.
𝐘/𝐍'𝐒
𝐏𝐎𝐕
"i hope you love it as much as i do!" i smile at the girl handing her a bag that contains King Of Wrath.
" 've heard good things so 'm sure i will!" she says giggly before skipping out of the library.
skipping to the beat of a mellow song playing i make my way to the door and quickly turn over the sign, it flashes CLOSED to the outside world. i feel my pants vibrate as my phone blares my notification sound signaling a call is coming through. pulling out my phone, THE ROYAL LONDON is the caller, my eyes widen and i quickly answer the phone.
"this is y/n." i state as fear licks my body.
"yes, is this y/n y/l/n. emergency contact for harry edward styles, date of birth february 1, 1994?"
"this is she." i whisper as my eyes water and anxiety rushes throughout me, my heart drops to the pit of my stomach.
"we're just calling as you are the emergency contact for mr. styles, to let you know that mr.styles is at The Royal London Hospital, seeking treatment."
a tear rolls down my cheek and a sob racks my body, "what happened?"
"i cannot disclose information over the phone ma'am." she says with sorrow and tears run faster down my face.
"i'll be there as fast as i can, thank you for calling me."
"no problem, bye-bye."
panicking i grab my keys and purse before i'm out the door and quickly locking it behind me, not really caring if it actually locked. i rush to my car throwing it into drive as i speed to the hospital. my lips wobble, tears rush down my face and my cheeks are definitely puffed hoping nothing but the best for the only man in my life that's a constant. sobs rack throughout me, as i reach for my phone and quickly call niall.
"yo! wassup scholar!" he speaks cheerfully and i'm going to regret breaking his heart like this.
"niall," i stutter as a sob leaves my mouth.
"y/n? what's wrong? where are you?" he drops the cheerful act and goes stern within seconds, hoping it's nothing to serious
"harry's at The Royal London Hospital, 'm on my way. i just wanted to let you know, i know you're like a brother to him, it's only fair for me to tell you."
"what the fuck happened?" he snapped as i heard him rustling around his room.
"they wouldn't tell me." i cry harder as the hospital comes into view.
"be careful please, y/n. i'm on my way but i know harry would beat my ass if you were driving like a mad man." he stiffs a laugh and i let out a wet chuckle.
" 'm scared niall." i admit as i put the car into park, grabbing my purse and bolting out of the car heading towards the emergency section, "i'll see you when you get here yeah?"
as i make my way to the front desk all my worst nightmares consume me, what if he's in critical condition? what if he fell into a state of coma? i look at the the lady in the front desk and let out a shaky breath.
"my boyfriends here, his name is harry styles."
"can i get your identification." the younger lady asked looking off into space and smacking her gum, obviously not interested in her job.
i shuffle through my purse and pull out my wallet grabbing my id and handing it to her. she scans over it and nods handing it back, "room 104." she points to the left, "keep going straight and it's on the right."
thanking her i start a light jog in the direction she pointed me to and finally reach his door, i let out a sigh before taking a deep breath and walking in. as i step into the room i see him laying there a black eye is developing and his knuckles are bloodied and bruised. tears start escaping my eyes again as i sit next to him running a hand through his hair and placing a kiss on his forehead.
"why ya cryin' love?" i hear a groggy voice ask and relief runs through my body.
"harry." i cry kissing his busted lips, "you're okay."
"yeah 'm okay baby." he tries to smile but hisses.
"what the hell happened?" i demand and he shrugs his shoulders, "don't give me that shit harry. i won't stand by it."
"was walkin' outta the gym makin' ma way to the car and i felt people followin' me. so i turned around asked what they wanted told me i lost them lots of money and then the wankers started to beat on me. baby you know i'm good but three people on me, i cant ma heart. the punches were comin' from everywhere. one thing lead to another, i tried fightin, but they pulled a knife on me, well it was two knifes but..."
"two?!" i interrupt and he nods.
"got hit in ma tummy and side." he pouted causing a frown to stretch onto my face.
"oh baby." i coo and he pats for me to sit on the bed, "don't wanna hurt you fighter."
he breaks into a smile, "wont hurt me, promise."
rolling my eyes i move onto the bed and let him rest his head on my chest. running my fingers through his hair i cooed at him before he turns his head and looks at me.
"wanna know what would make me feel better?" he asked and i nod wanting to do anythibn in my power to make him feel better, "a kiss."
"my cheeky boy wants to be pampered?" i tease and he pouts, i place my lips on top of his and let out a sigh we move our lips in sync before i pull away as he hisses, "spoilt you lots huh?"
"dunno what ya talking' about woman." he huffs turning his nose to the air and looking away from me.
"and you're supposedly the toughest fighter in london, you're a big ol' softy!" i continue my teasing and he dramatically gasps.
"i am the toughest fighter!"
"okay! who am i killin'? 've been to jail once or twice! know my way 'round! 'm not scared of nothin'!" we hear someone barge into the room and i let out a giggle as i see niall walking in with a glare on his face.
"aw you'd go to jail for me." harry mockingly cooed and niall throws him the finger.
"you scared me you fuckass! had poor scholar turn into a nascar driver!" niall exclaims as he points to me and i still.
"shut up niall." i mumble before looking at harry who had his eyebrows drawn in.
"bloody hell is wrong with you woman?" harry exclaimed looking at me like i've grown three heads.
"oi! they didn't tell me anything over the phone! i was worried. had to be here as quick as i could!" i snap crossing my arms over my chest and turning my head away from him.
"don't look away from me peach! 'm scoldin you!" he tries to move my head to look at him.
"don't want you scoldin me!"
A/N: OH ME GEEEEE! HOLY CRAP YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING LOVE YOU LOAD!!!
-all the love,
em
xo🫶🏽
#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x fem!reader#harry styles x plus size reader#harry styles x poc#harry styles x reader#harry styles x you#harry update#harry x reader#lhh supremacy#lhh#lhh!harry#librarians#harry angst#harrys house#harry's house album#harry fluff#boxer!harry#boxer au
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restless*
warnings: smut, masturbation, oral sex, allusions to sex
pairing: boxer harry x reader
summary: yn is needy after seeing harry come home after a match, but he needs his rest
masterlist | taglist
~
yn tosses and turns for what feels like the thousandth time in the past few minutes, a quiet groan leaving her lips when the throbbing between her legs just won’t go away. heaving out a sigh, she tosses the blankets off her body and climbs from the bed, begrudgingly reaching into her bedside table and grabbing her vibrator in hopes of some sort of relief.
she then quietly makes her way from the bed with a glance back at harry to make sure he’s still sound asleep before heading toward the guest room. closing the door behind her quietly, she tosses the vibrator on the bed before sliding her panties down her legs and discarding them somewhere beside the bed. no more time is wasted as she climbs on and gets comfortable against the pillows and spreads her legs. the chill of the air on her wet centre sends a shiver down her spine but she couldn’t care less as of right now.
there’s no time for teasing, so she grabs the toy and turns it on her favourite setting before simply pressing it against her throbbing clit, a small cry of relief leaving her lips at the feeling. the vibrations instantly plummet her into her own mind, memories of her boyfriend above her and taking her just the way she needs flooding her mind. unbeknownst to her, harry had woken up shortly after she’d gotten out of the bed and was in search of her with sleep dazed head.
she doesn’t even know that he’s walking down the hallway listening for her when he hears the buzzing sound and her soft mewls from behind the guest room door, stopping to investigate.
when he pushes the door open to the room, his cock stirs to life in his boxers as he sees her in the centre of the bed pleasuring herself. “oh, angel,” harry tsks, the sound of his voice breaking yn from the confines of her thoughts of him. she’s shocked to see him standing there, embarrassed even, as she hastily snaps her legs shut and fumbles around with the buttons on the toy. “why didn’t you wake me?” he questions, climbing onto the bed with her.
she’s quiet for a moment due to her embarrassment, averting her eyes until he places his hand on her thigh to coax her to look at him. when her eyes return to his and she sees no judgment in them, she feels comfortable responding. “you need your sleep. you just had a match,” she explains, her voice small.
“i know, sweet girl, but if you need me i can help you,” he responds, words genuine. his response pulls a scoff from her, making him raise his eyebrows in shock.
“i was not going to wake you up because i was horny,” her voice is firm now at how ridiculous he sounds.
that’s when his normal cheeky, dimpled grin forms on his face and he pulls her thighs apart. “okay, that’s fair, but i’m up now. you know it’s hard for me to sleep anyways when i haven’t had a taste of you,” he teases, reaching up with his dominant hand and running a finger through her soaked folds. he gathers some wetness on his fingertip before immediately honing in on her sensitive clit, a hum falling from his lips when he feels it twitch against him.
“no, h. your hand,” she manages to gasp, remembering the bruising and pain he’d received from the fight today. she’s squirming away from his touch, much to her dismay at the situation, but she knows he needs to rest that hand.
“i’m fine, angel. but if it makes you feel any better i won’t use it. how’s that sound, hm?” he questions, all playfulness gone from his voice as he knows she’s genuinely concerned for him. she thinks on his suggestion for a moment before she’s nodding her head and relaxing into the pillows once more. she’s not relaxed for long, though, as he immediately takes her clit into his mouth and begins to suck on it before flicking at it a bit, causing her body to tense and a gasp to leave her.
it doesn’t take long at all for her to get close, her orgasm creeping up on her just minutes after he gets his mouth on her. he’s alternating between sucking on her clit and licking into her folds, occasionally pushing his tongue into her somewhat neglected entrance. when she wraps her thighs around his head as she gets closer, he can’t help but groan against her, and the action immediately flings her off the edge with a loud cry of his name.
her body is stock still as her orgasm moves through her body in intense waves, and by the end of it she’s choking on her breath and pushing him away as he hasn’t stopped licking at her sensitive flesh. he reluctantly pulls away with that same grin on his face, not even bothering to wipe her cum off of it.
climbing up her body, he cages her in before craning his neck to press his lips to hers. they both marvel at the taste of her arousal on him, and soon he feels her tongue make its way into his mouth, pulling away before things escalate as she needs sleep as well. he gives her one last peck before speaking up. “there we go. are y’gonna be able to sleep now?” he teases, but he’s soon choking on his breath as he feels her hand quickly reach into his boxers and wrap around him.
her words are innocent as she responds. “no, not yet.”
~
#harryistheonlyoneforme#harry styles fic#harry styles fic rec#harry styles smut#harry styles#smut#harry styles filth#harry related writings#dbf harry styles#dbf harry#boxer au#boxer harry styles#boxer harry#boxer harry smut#boxer harry styles smut#new fic
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The Girl Worth Fighting For
Well-known boxer Harry Styles has been a regular at his trainer Antonio Montez’s gym, and he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. But, Antonio’s daughter Lola also comes around, and Harry wants her all to himself. Is she a girl worth fighting for?
SMUT / ANGST; Kinks include: deep penetration, face-fucking, deepthroating, riding, age gap (7 years), creampie
“Keep goin’, Styles,” Antonio yelled, encouraging Harry to hit the punching bag harder and with more vigor. With that, Harry used all of his power to hit the bag with enough impact to send the bag flying backwards each time.
It was a normal training day for Harry at Antonio’s, a gym he’s been going to since he had moved to New York and began his boxing career at 19. The owner of the place, Antonio Montez, built this place from the ground up (both literally and physically), and ever since Harry’s been there, he had treated him like he was his own son. He’d make him home cooked meals and carry them to the gym, take Harry out to sports games with him, and even give him advice in his personal life. The two men were very close.
Antonio also had a daughter, Lola, who had been helping around with errands and supplies for the gym whenever he needed them. Although Harry had been going to that gym for 6 years now, he had never seen her until recently when she started working part-time. He recalls Antonio being a divorced man, so he could put together that Lola probably lived with her mom during those 6 years. From previous conversations with her, Harry learned that she was a 20 year old student at FIT working on her degree for Fashion & Design, and was currently in her second year. She was quite a good girl: smart, obedient, a great sense of style, and a true Daddy’s girl.
But that’s not all Harry noticed about her. Lola had long beautiful brown hair with a red ombre that got brighter as her hair trailed down to her beautiful collarbones, the left one being engraved with a tattoo of a zodiac glyph (the sign of Scorpio maybe? Harry wasn’t too apt when it came to astrology). She wore glasses sometimes, but Harry assumed that she had contacts on the days she didn’t. Her body was full and beautiful; her bust spilled out of every top she wore, her thighs and ass were thick and the jiggles they made as she walked always captivated him, and her love handles accentuated her God-given curves. He noticed the stretch marks and freckles that adorned her skin. She was just perfect.
Lola walked inside of the building, carrying bags of supplies that her father asked her to buy for the gym. She placed them into the storage room and walked back out, running up to her dad and giving him a tight squeeze. “Hi, daddy!,” she said as he held her tight.
Antonio let go and smiled down at his daughter. “Mija, que paso?” He asked her, curious with how her day went.
Lola smiled. “It went well, daddy. I finished up the errands for the house this morning and took Bubba (their dog) out for a walk! I also got the supplies you said you wanted from the warehouse! See?” She pointed at the supplies settled in the storage room, a huge smile on her face as she looked up at her dad.
Her father smiled proudly, “That’s my girl! Thanks so much for the help, mija. This gym wouldn’t be what it is today without your support.”
From the corner of his eye, Harry noticed the glimmer of Lola’s teeth as she smiled at the praise her father just gave her. He loved to see Lola’s beautiful smile form that arched shape on her lips, but didn’t let it distract him too much from his training. Besides, her father was right there, and Harry didn’t want him to notice how captivated he was by his daughter.
Antonio continued speaking to his daughter, until a question popped up that caught Harry by surprise. “And how was the date?”
Harry’s stomach dropped. Date? She went on a date? Or did she eat dates? What was happening? His thoughts ran wild as he continued punching the bag, his hits getting harder with every word they spoke as they continued their conversation.
Lola smiled and let out a small giggle. “I enjoyed it. He was really nice. We went to that Korean restaurant and I got some bibimbap!”
“Did he treat my baby girl well?” Antonio questioned, nudging his daughter’s shoulder in a playful way.
“Yeah, I’m planning on meeting up with him again this weekend!”
Harry punched the bag with the hardest punch he could throw, his rage fueling his fire. The bag seemed to fly all the way back because of the force of Harry’s blow. Both Antonio and Lola looked at him in shock and confusion.
Harry noticed the two’s stares, and he cleared his throat. “Sorry ‘bout that. I got immersed. Thought I was in a real fight.” He let out a fake snicker towards the end of his statement, and Antonio chuckled as well.
“That’s alright, Styles. It happens,” he reassured Harry, patting the boxer’s shoulder with his hand. “Continue doing what you’re doing, bud.”
***
The night came and it was finally closing time. All of the patrons left, and it was only Harry, Antonio, and Lola left in the building. Harry usually stayed until closing on some days when he really wanted to train. He genuinely enjoyed being at that gym- it was like his sanctuary or safe space where he could let off steam and be around people he cared about. Antonio and Lola being those people.
Harry sat on a bench, taking off his boxing gloves and removing his mouth guard as he noticed Antonio packing up. Lola was getting the last bit of cleaning done, and Harry watched as she bent down to sanitize one of the metal bars of the equipment. She was wearing yoga pants, and her ass looked absolutely delectable to Harry. But of course, he quickly turned away before anyone would notice, especially her father. He heard the jingling of keys come from the corner of the room as he turned around.
“Alright, honey, I’m gonna let you finish up and then close up shop,” he said Lola.
Lola got up from her position to look at her father. “Okay, Dad, I’ll do that. I’m gonna miss you.” She ran up to her dad to give him a tight embrace and a kiss on his cheek.
Antonio let out a belly-laugh. “Honey, we’re literally going to see each other at the house later. Don’t miss me too much.” He looked over to Harry. “G’night, champ! See ya next week! Make sure she does her job.”
Harry smiled at Antonio. “Same time, same place! And don’t worry; she’s in very safe hands, Tony!” He looked towards Lola, still with a huge smile on his face, and she looked right back at him, cracking a smile.
“Alright, kids! Goodnight!” Antonio pushed through the glass doors and disappeared through the night. A slight breeze came through the doors, and Lola shivered a bit.
“It’s a bit chilly tonight, huh?” She questioned Harry, who was busy packing his duffel bag. “You should put on a sweater or something before you head out.”
“Yeah,” he answered a bit plainly. “Thanks.”
Lola noticed his monotone voice. He wasn’t normally like that. Whenever they would strike up a conversation, his voice was always so expressive and colorful. He’d always look into her eyes whenever they spoke, and they would always seem to sparkle as if he were intrigued with whatever she was saying to him. It was different tonight, though.
“Harry, you alright?” She asked.
Harry quickly glanced at her, but resumed packing his bag and keeping himself busy. “Yep. I’m alright.”
“No, no, you’re not. Harry, please, tell me what’s wrong.” She was genuinely concerned about him. That was her father’s best customer. He’d always been nice to him and her. So, what was the matter?
Of course, he was irritated. He literally overheard her and her dad discussing a date she went on. A date that happened today! Why wouldn’t he be pissed?
“Just having a bad day is all,” he answered, his voice still monotone. “You sure had fun today, though,” he said, hinting at the date, which Lola noticed. His voice was laced with fire and rage, something very different and obvious to his normal speaking voice.
Lola stood in thought for a moment, looking up as if she were trying to deliberate what he was saying with her brain. A lightbulb went off all of a sudden. “A-Are you talking about my date? Well, yeah, I had fun.” She was confused. “Why?” She noticed Harry clench his fist as he grabbed his gym towel. The veins of his tattooed hand and arm popped out, showing that his anger was absolutely seeping through him. Then she realized. “Are you jealous?”
Harry furrowed his eyebrows, his expression looking more upset than ever. He just jumped straight to the point, asking “Did you have sex with him, Lola?”
His straightforwardness caught Lola by surprise. “What?!”
“Did you and your date sleep with each other?” He started to walk over to her.
Lola was stunned by this question. It was too invasive. And why did he want to know? “You’re not my father, my brother, my man, or anyone of importance for me to tell you. You don’t own me, so why should I tell you?” She looked up directly into Harry’s eyes, only a feet inches away from her as if they were having a standoff. She furrowed her eyebrows at him angrily, wanting to try to intimidate him.
But, Harry scoffed. She looked cute when she was trying to put her foot down. He decided to stir the pot to stand his own ground. “You’re right, I don’t own you,” he paused for a second. “But I can make you mine.” He raised his eyebrow and grinned.
The woman gasped at his statement. “What do you mean by that?”
Harry took a step closer. “I can make you mine. But, only if you’ll let me.” He grabbed her by her jawline, stroking her cheek with his thumb as he looked into her eyes.
“Will you let me, Lola?”
Lola nodded slowly. She didn’t even really know what she was agreeing to, but something in here told her to. So, she did. Might as well.
“Open your mouth, sweetheart,” he whispered into her lips. “Open ‘em- there you go.”
Lola opened her mouth at his command, not really expecting what could happen next. Her mind was dazed, and honestly she would do anything he told her too if he wanted.
Harry bent his neck a bit, so that his mouth could be over hers. Just then, he dropped some of his saliva into her mouth. It was warm and the texture was different to say the least, and Lola kept it onto her tongue with her mouth still open, awaiting for his next move.
Harry smiled and let out a small chuckle from under his breath. “You just gonna let it sit there or..?” He joked with her as he looked up and down at her current state.
Lola quickly swallowed his spit down, feeling it slide down her throat alongside her own. It was a strange yet appealing feeling. And she wanted more.
Harry grabbed her by the back of her neck and kissed her. It was something sloppy, wet, raw, and disgusting, the type that made a couple swallow each other’s tongues and taste each other’s souls. As he released her from the kiss, his lips bit into hers. “Good girl,” the man complimented her, noticing her flushed cheeks as he grinned. “Now,” he began to take off his sweatpants, removing one leg at a time, and Lola’s jaw dropped again as she looked at the package this man was hiding this whole time underneath, “I want you to take off your clothes, get on your knees, and prove to me why you should be mine.”
Lola couldn’t say she was prepared for this. It’s not like she hasn’t sucked dick before, but this was Harry Styles, one of the most infamous boxers in the boxing world. He was just so big… and experienced. He was 7 years older than her, and much richer than her, so how could he not have had girls in the same position as she is right now. But she had to forget about that right now, like her brain kept repeating since this whole altercation started. Just live in the moment. So, she quickly stripped herself down and got on her knees. Luckily, there was a gym mat underneath her that cushioned her joints and made this a bit more comfortable.
The man looked down upon Lola and his grin went away as he wanted to assert his dominance over her in this position. He grabbed the back of her head, taking her hair into his hands as he positioned his cock to her mouth. She pouted her lips and kissed his tip, causing Harry to let out a small gasp. “Eager little thing,” he said with a tsk. Not wanting to waste any more time, he pushed himself into her mouth. “Now, suck.”
Lola immediately started to take him, getting used to the feeling of his girth stretching out her mouth. But, as soon as she was familiar with him, she brought his tip to the back of her throat, causing her to gag. Harry was amazed at what he was seeing; the girl was trying to take him all in one go! “You’re gonna take all of me?” She nodded, her mouth taking him in deeper. “Oh, good girl,” Harry responded, drawing out the word “girl” as his nerves on the tip of his cock reacted to the back of her throat constantly hitting them.
“You’re sucking me off like a big girl, Lola,” he murmured as she continued deepthroating him, his hand caressing the back of her head. “Don’t even need me to teach you anything, love.” He removed his hands from her and put them up in a way to hint that she could take the reins as she continued to take him deep into her.
Discovering how daring this girl was, Harry wanted to try out something a bit different than the normal positions. “Alright, darling, get up off the ground f’me,”he said, pulling back her hair so that her mouth could pop off of his cock. “C’mon, we don’t have all night, princess.”
Lola managed to stand up and before she could even look at him, he grabbed her hips and lifted her up, flipping her upside-down. Lola let out a little squeak, making Harry laugh and slap her ass. “That scared you?,” he laughed again. Lola rolled her eyes, although he couldn’t see her reaction, and slapped his thigh, “Yes, you fucking dick,” she responded.
Harry stopped laughing as he noticed his view. “Look at this perfect fuckin’ cunt,” he said in awe as he looked at the sight before him. She looked like a pretty flower, in bloom and ready to be picked. Her puffy labia had a glossy sheen to them as they shone in the bright lights of the room, looking like dewy petals after it had rained. Her little clit stuck out a bit from its hood, and it was the centerpiece. He couldn’t wait to try her.
“You alright down there?” he asked as he remembered that she was literally upside down and relied on only his strength to stay in this position. He knew the blood was rushing to her head; the feeling was familiar to him as he did handstands as a part of his training.
Lola gave him a nod, but quickly realized he couldn’t see anything so she forced out a “yes”. The blood rushed to her head, but she didn’t care as all she wanted to do right now was to please the man lifting her up. Her life was in his hands so to speak because if he dropped her, she would land right on her skull, and that wouldn’t look pretty. But, Harry was built for this. His grip was tight around her lower body as he held her up, her pussy to his face as he was about to provide Lola some relief.
Harry managed to shift his pelvis towards her head, trying to find her lips with the tip of dick. Once he felt them, he shifted himself inside of her, causing her to let out a garbled moan as he managed to hit the back of her throat. He started to thrust into her mouth, while his mouth began its movements, his tongue gliding around her labia. Lola’s moans, although garbled, vibrated onto Harry’s shaft and even his balls as they slapped onto her cupid’s bow, and he could swear he was transported to heaven.
Harry’s tongue slid itself into her little hole, and he could feel every ripple of her walls as they clenched around his membrane. His chin found some way to rub against her clit, and Lola could feel the hairs of his stubble flick every nerve. The friction caused her to tap onto Harry’s thigh. Harry knew what this meant, and quickly moved himself from her mouth. “Y’alright?” he asked her, pausing his motions of his tongue to get some sort of coherent response from her. Once he heard her take a deep breath and respond with a “yes”, he thrusted his cock right back into her, immediately finding his way back to her epiglottis, and Lola started to gag. Harry could feel the drool drip down his thighs and took a quick glance to the ground, noticing her saliva make a pool by his feet. But, it was all a glorious, euphoric feeling, and Harry took that as encouragement to suck onto her clit and dip the tip of his nose into her hole. The way she smelled was just as enticing as what was taking place, and Lola was just as pleased as she could taste the man inside and all around her own mouth.
Harry removed his mouth from her lower region, using his tongue to lick up the residue that stained his lips and chin. “Alright, honey, I’m putting you down now,” he told her as he used his strength to flip the girl rightside up. He laid Lola onto the floor, rubbing his hands down her skin to make sure that she was alright. She blushed as she felt his calloused hands move down her body, not really expecting how gentle he would be with her, especially with him being a boxer and all.
Harry held onto his shaft as he shuffled his body between Lola’s legs. He opened her legs a bit more with a gentle touch, and aligned himself with the opening to her cunt, mentally preparing himself for what was about to happen. “You ready, love?” Lola nodded and looked down to see what happened next.
Both Harry and Lola let out a gasp as he pushed inside.
“Oh, darling, you fit like a fuckin’ glove,” he said, a groan escaping his lips as he managed to put himself as deep as he could inside of her warm core. Lola let out little moans which pleased Harry’s ears as he knew the girl was loving this moment too.
“Ohhhh,” he drawled out in realization as he felt her cunt pulse a bit tighter after his statement. “You like being praised, huh? Being told you’re doing a good job by an older man? I noticed that with you and your daddy’s conversation earlier.” He smirked while stroking into her deeper. “A real praise slut you are. And you deserve every word.”
His thrusts were slow, yet deep, as he really wanted to really revel in the moment. He was finally fucking the beautful girl he’d always pictured himself with. And she felt like everything he wanted. Luckiest man in the world, he was.
Lola was in paradise. Her moans were guttural and low as she felt him inside of her. With every thrust, she let out a little curse or mumble underneath her breath, which were words of encouragement to Harry to keep going. She didn’t want this to end.
He started to angle his strokes upward, wanting to experiment with her and see if he could find the imprint of his cock through her lower stomach. As soon as he saw it, he rubbed in the area, and Lola cried out even louder. “You feel me right there, honey? In your tummy?” She moaned in confirmation, and her head tried to go up and down to nod along.
A couple more strokes went on and more moans were released as Harry fucking her. It was an erotic scene, almost as if they were shooting a porno. His balls consistently slapped against her perineum with every thrust and his thumb circled her little aching clit as, causing moans that Lola never experienced before with previous partners. Her walls started to clench around Harry, and he was quick to notice when a girl was about to orgasm. So he did what any man would do.
He pulled out, leaving Lola confused as she started to whimper. She almost looked like she was on the brink of tears. Harry chuckled under his breath. He didn’t want to pull out (and judging by her reaction, he could tell she didn’t want him to either) but Harry wanted to switch positions.
He decided to lay onto the mat, spreading his legs a bit, but leaving his head up to look at the girl, still whimpering because of her stalled release. “Alright, get on top of me, sweet girl,” he said, slapping his hands on his thighs for emphasis.
Lola nodded, a sweet and simple “okay”, escaping her lips as she found her way down. She swung one of her legs over him, putting herself into position above him. Harry stroked her jaw with his thumb yet again as he soothed the trembling and needy girl on top of him. He smiled, saying, “You were such a good girl taking my cock like that, sweetheart. Now, I want you to rub your pussy on my cock, okay? Just want you to get used to this position with me, yeah? Show me how you’re gonna take me. Prove to me you’re worthy of being my big girl.” His words were laced with lust, but his eyes were filled with desperation and need. As much as he wanted to feel Lola wrapped around him, he still wanted to get her worked up a bit.
Although she really wanted him inside of her again, she obliged and placed her aching cunt onto the shaft of his cock and started her movements. His shaft started to glisten with the coating from her warmth as her labia rubbed against him; what a delicious sight for him to see. His veins were prominent and Lola swore she could count the amount he had just by feeling him underneath her. She glided on him back and forth repeatedly, which emitted moans from her mouth of pleasure, yet also yearning. She wanted to feel herself do that with his cock inside of her, wanted to feel his shaft touch every part of her from the inside.
Suddenly, Harry grabbed Lola by her hips and steadied her movements, holding her tightly in his grasp. He positioned himself a bit more comfortably, aiming his cock to her ready entrance, and started to move his lower half upwards to fuck up into her.
Lola couldn’t help but moan and throw her head back. Harry was hitting the deepest, most delicious spots inside of her more than any man had ever tried in the past. Her pussy clenched around him, causing the wetness that was already seeping through her hole to slide down his length. It created a beautiful sight for the two of them to see.
Harry kept fucking his hips up, and lowered Lola’s body a bit lower so that he could feel her as deep as he could. He managed to find an angle where the base of his shaft could glide against her G-spot while the tip of him could poke out an indentation through her lower belly, and Harry let out a moan as if he were touched by an angel. A small “yes” drew from under his breath as he continued his movements.
“Lookin’ like a pretty princess up there, riding my cock like that,” he said absent-mindedly. “You just need a tiara.” His words just sped through his mouth without censorship, his brain too focused on making sure both him and Lola were receiving pleasure. He reached his hand down to her ass and spanked one of her cheeks, and his balls felt the skin jiggle on him, making him moan. He decided to use both hands to spank each cheek interchangeably, which vibrated against his sack, another loud moan escaping his lips. And it obviously was just as pleasurable for Lola as he noticed how she squealed at every force of impact and how her cunt pulsed with every stroke of his cock.
“Look at those fuckin tits, too, fuckin’ hell,” He said, his eyes in a trance as he stared at them. “Look at ‘em fucking bounce. Your daddy’s making you walk in a gym filled with all these gross old men havin’ a look at these? Irresponsible,” he joked, making himself laugh a bit in the process. But, the feeling of Lola’s pussy clenching around him at the praise lured him back into moaning again. “Shit- you’re somethin’ special, love.” Harry felt like he was in nirvana. He had a beautiful girl hopping on his cock like a little bunny, her tits bouncing along in circles, and her ass pounding on his balls with each thrust. Her beautiful skin was glowing with a bit of sweat, and her cunt enveloped around his cock in a way that nothing else could. It was amazing.
Lola couldn’t take it anymore. All of this pleasure circulated throughout her body- from her toes, to her pussy, to her ass, her stomach, her breasts, her neck, her head, and all throughout her spine. She just couldn’t handle it, and it caused her to fall forward onto Harry’s chest. She dug her head in the spot between his shoulder and neck, giving that spot on his skin a little kiss before shifting her head so she would be able to moan and breathe without difficulty. She repeatedly called out his name as she felt her abdomen starting to heat up, indicating that she was nearing her peak.
Harry held onto her, wrapping his arms around her back and putting them in a cradling position as he continued to thrust his cock inside of her. “I’m right here, pretty girl. Look at me,” he instructed her with a gentle tone, and the girl somehow managed to tilt her head and look into his eyes. “Yeah, look at me, princess. You’re just a beauty, aren’t you?” Harry shifted one of his hands to the back of her head, allowing him to make sure that they stayed face-to-face. “My gorgeous girl. Mine. No one else’s. This is my pussy, my breasts…” He kissed the tip of her nose. “My nose”. He kissed her left cheek. “My cheek”. He finally kissed her lips, this time with more passion than the first. His tongue explored the inside of her mouth once more, her body allowing him to do so as she was still focused on her own orgasm. “My fuckin’ lips, yeah? My fuckin’ mouth.”
All of his sweet nothings traveled from Lola’s ear to her abdomen, and it helped egg on her orgasm. She finally reached her climax, and Harry was amazed at the sight he saw and the physical reactions she had. Her whole body shook and pelvis bucked repeatedly as she came, and her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Harry stroked the hand cradling her head through her hair as a soothing gesture, hoping that it could help ease the intensity of her orgasm. “I’m right here, darling. Right here. You’re alright,” he whispered in her ear, adding extra words to help pacify the situation.
Just as Lola was calming down, Harry could feel his orgasm nearing, and picked up his pace just a bit, but not too much to make Leila cry out. His grip on her tightened, and Lola kissed all over his face- his cheeks, his lips, his chin- to help him through his climax. Then, she could feel the little spurts of his cum fill her up from the inside.
“Take my fucking cum, Lola,” Harry grumbled into her ear as he came so deep inside of her. “Let me own you, spread my seed inside so you know you’re mine.” He let out a deep groan as he continued before saying these four words, “I love you, Lola.”
Lola’s eyes widened as she heard this sentence, but she didn’t want to make her shock obvious. She allowed Harry to finish his orgasm, and as he did, he pulled out of her and helped her come off of him. She rolled to his side and then faced him, wanting to confront him about his confession.
“You… you love me?” She asked, and Harry picked up on the genuine confusion in her voice. To be honest, it almost sounded like she was… offended?
“Yes, Lola, I’ve loved you for all this time,” the man finally admitted, tears staining his eyes. “When I noticed that date you went on,” he sniffled for a moment before continuing, “with that- that dickhead.”
Lola sat up in protest. “Harry, don’t call him a dickhead! You don’t even know h-”
Harry cut her off. “I don’t need to know him! And I don’t want to get to know him; I want to get to know you!” He took a couple breaths, his chest rising and faltering as the air went in and out of his body to calm down. He didn’t want to be too harsh with the girl.
“What I need to hear from you right now is,” he paused, wanting to stop himself from saying something he might regret and something she might be afraid of.
But, Lola wanted to know what he had to say. “Is what, Harry?”
Harry sighed and finally looked into her eyes. He noticed her crying, probably even more than he was. They were both a mess. He didn’t want her to cry, but he had to ask her one last thing. “I need to know… Do you love me, Lola?”
She didn’t know what to think honestly. Yeah, the sex was good, and Harry was pouring his heart out to her. But… something was missing.
“Harry, I appreciate you. You’ve been there for my father at the hardest parts of his life. He told me how much you meant to him. How you’ve been… like a son to him. I mean he’s known you since you were my age! You’re 27 now!” And it was all true. After every workday, her father would talk about Harry in the car and at the house. He would bring up Harry’s little awkward shuffle that he did whenever he was waiting for the restroom. He talked about how Harry went through a rough patch with a best friend, and how he was able to help him through that time. He would ramble on and on about this “Harry Styles” whenever she was at the house. She knew of him, but she didn’t know him personally.
“And then there’s you and I. I’m so much younger than you! I mean, you’re pushing 30, and I’m barely in my 20s. We’ve only had a true conversation with each other like twice,” She showed him her index and middle finger for reference. “I told you about my student life and the hobbies I had. The only time I ever spoke to you outside of the gym was when my car broke down and Daddy said I should call you to pick me up. Even that car ride wasn’t anything meaningful to build our bond.”
Harry was enraged. “Then why would you have sex with me? Why would you make me cum inside you? That didn’t mean shit to you?”
Lola brought her head down in embarrassment, not even realizing what had just occurred before this argument until now. “I just wanted to have some fun. I don’t even really know why. Just listen, Harry, if we were to get together, it’d be weird for everyone.”
Harry sat there in silence. He didn’t really know how to respond to what she said. His mind started racing. Oh fuck, I just fucked my trainer’s daughter, he thought. I just had sex… with the daughter of the man who took care of me for so many years. Just cuz I thought she was hot? What the fuck is wrong with me? He started to hyperventilate, his heart seemingly bursting out of his chest.
All of a sudden, he stood up. Lola noticed how his skin was pale, his eyes were blank, and how his chest rose up and down at a fast pace as he hyperventilated. She reached out to grab his forearm, but Harry just nudged her off. “I have to go,” he stated so simply, his voice laced in distraught. “I just-” he sighed. “Make sure to lock up properly before you leave.” He grabbed the duffel bag with his clothes and equipment, said his goodnights and goodbyes, and pushed through the exit of the gym, leaving Lola there all alone. Tears flooded her eyes. What… just happened?
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