watermelonlovershigh

[watermelonlovershigh]

The Stomach Virus

A/N: I was watching the Brits yesterday and I really couldn't have had a better time watching Harry so happy and…drunk. This one-shot has nothing to do with it but it's been in my head for a long time and I've finally managed to finish it, I hope you like it.

PAIRING: Harry Styles x Reader

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

WARNING: Not an english native speaker. It also mentions vomit, sickness and there is a very bad attempt to make a sexy comment.

SUMMARY: Your daughter (Iris) gets sick when Harry is not at home.

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You leave the room as quietly as possible, closing the door, but carrying the baby monitor in your hand. Today you had a hard time getting Iris to sleep, she was very agitated and no lullaby or story seemed to put her to sleep. In the end you had to put on your phone a video you had of her father singing her a song. Harry's voice was what finally got her to fall asleep in your arms.  

You walk to your room, leaving the monitor on your bedside table, and start getting ready for bed. Harry texted you an hour ago that he was going to be home very late from his session at the studio, saying that you didn't need to wait up for him as he was going to grab a quick bite to eat with Mitch and Tom (Kid Harpoon). 

After you've done your night routine and pulled the duvet over your head, you take one last look at your phone to see if Harry has texted you and let him know you're going to bed, saying goodnight. You leave your phone on silent on the bedside table and turn to Harry's side of the bed, hoping that when he comes in and gets into bed he'll wake you up a bit so you can kiss him goodnight. 

You don't know how long you've been asleep when Iris's whimpering wakes you up. Opening your eyes, you see that Harry's side is still empty.

"They've really taken the session seriously today," you think to yourself as you get out of bed and walk towards your daughter's room. 

As you open the door to the room, the first thing you notice is the smell of vomit in the room. You walk over to the cot quickly, seeing how Iris seems to have thrown up all over herself.

"Oh, sweetie," you whisper, picking her up in your arms, not caring that the vomit covering her is staining the Harry’s shirt that you're wearing as a pajama. 

You begin to rock her gently in your arms, trying to soothe her whimpering, murmuring comforting things against her sweaty curls. A few minutes later you get her to calm down and rest her head on your chest.

"You're burning up, sweetheart," you say after placing one of your hands on her forehead. "Let's get you cleaned up and get something for your fever and vomiting, you must be feeling awful."

At a year and a half old, Iris has been sick only a few times. You and Harry have always been careful of her to not catch anything. But two days ago the nanny you usually leave her with when you're both too busy called the day after she'd been looking after her to say she'd woken up with a stomach virus, so you'd be on the lookout for any symptoms. 

That same day Harry ran to a pharmacy to get any baby medicine for those kinds of viruses. You almost didn't remember the virus, until now.

You walk carefully down the stairs, Iris clutching your shirt with her fists, and walk towards the kitchen when you see that you have left the light that is in the bathroom next to the kitchen on. As you go to turn off the light you hear a noise from inside the bathroom, you open the door and what you find surprises you.

Harry is crouched on the toilet, his back to you. You are about to call his name to get his attention when you hear him vomit. Quickly, careful not to disturb Iris in your arms, you crouch down beside him and try to catch the strands of hair falling into his eyes with your hand. 

You wait a few seconds until he finishes and drops to one side, leaning against the wall next to the toilet. The sight of him makes your heart shrink a little. His face is shiny with sweat and he has dark circles under his eyes from exhaustion, keeping his eyes closed even when you place your hand on his forehead.

"H, you're burning up."

"I know" he answers in a hoarse voice. "I've been feeling sick all afternoon."

"Why didn't you come home? You look awful."

"I didn't want you to catch it" it's at that moment that he finally opens his eyes to look at you, with your daughter clinging to your t-shirt stained with her vomit.

"Late" you try to smile to lighten the mood." I woke up to her crying and when I went into her room I saw she threw up all over herself, she is running a fever just like you."

"My baby" he pouts "And are you ok?"

"Yes, for the moment I feel fine".

"Good, at least someone is still standing" he smiles and you caress his cheek with your hand, he leans on it.

"Do you want something? Maybe a glass of water?"

"That can be nice, I haven't been able to keep anything down since breakfast, I threw up my lunch." you start to get up but Harry extends his arms towards you." Let me hold our puked up baby while you go get the water."

"I don't know if that's a good idea, she stinks, I wouldn't recommend it" you reply jokingly but Harry doesn't give up. "What if you feel like throwing up again with her in your arms?"

"You're one step away and I can shout...I'm sick and I want a cuddle from my little rainbow, please." he pouts and you sigh before carefully handing him the baby. 

"I'll be right back, just yell if you need anything."

You hurry to the kitchen, filling a glass of water for Harry and opening the medicine cabinet. You quickly look at the notes Harry jotted on the medicine boxes so you know how each one works and grab two of the boxes, one for Iris and one for Harry. You also grab the thermometer and with all that you return to the bathroom, finding Harry still sitting on the floor but now with Iris resting her head on his chest.

"She's really tired but I can't get her to sleep," he says as you sit down next to them, putting everything you've brought on the floor, passing him the glass of water that he drinks before putting it down.

"I brought the syrup you bought for her the other day and these boxes of pills we had, one for the fever and one for the stomach ache and vomiting that are for you," you pass him the boxes with each item as you take the thermometer to put it on Iris, "Let's see how high that fever is".

You place the device on her forehead and leave it there until it beeps and you pull it away.

"She has a temperature of 38.3º.”

"We can give her the syrup now and see if it brings her down, try to put her to sleep."

"Yes, that would be best, but we'd better change her clothes first, she threw up in her cot."

"Oh, my little angel." Harry pulls her closer to his chest. "She must be feeling awfully sick."

"Like you must be feeling, H."

"I'm fine, she's the important thing." You instantly place the thermometer on Harry's head, the boy who sold it to you told you it was also used to measure the temperature of adults. 

Not more than a minute goes by when the thermometer beeps again, indicating his temperature: 39.6º.

"Harry, this is not good," you comment as you show him the number. "You should go and lie down in bed."

"I'm fine, I just want to look after Iris."

"I know, but you literally just threw up, you're burning up, and honestly, you don't look the best, baby."

"Iris, the day has come when my wife, your mother, doesn't find me so handsome anymore." he jokes as he pretends to cry over your baby's sweaty curls.

"Harry, this is serious."

"I know, but...I didn't exactly come during all the day for this, I don't want to burden you with having to take care of me and Iris at the same time."

Just then, your daughter starts to whimper. For a few weeks now, Iris has not been able to sit still for long when she is in her parents' arms, especially if she is sleepy. Harry has been sitting on the bathroom floor with her in his arms for a while now, so it's no wonder she's tired of sitting still. 

"She wants to move, hand me the baby, please." You stand up and Harry hands you Iris, instantly you start rocking her lightly in your arms but being careful not to do it too fast and she might throw up. "Honey, the wedding vows said so, in sickness and in health, I don't mind having to take care of you, it's the deal, if I get sick you take care of me and if you're sick I take care of you."

"But with Iris-"

"With Iris it doesn't matter, I can take care of both of you, H."

He remains silent for a few seconds before answering, he knows you're right even if he doesn't like it.

"You know I love you?"

"I think so, you tell me several times...a day." you reply with a smile. "Come on, let's go upstairs, Iris needs to be changed and you'd better be in bed and not on the bathroom floor."

Harry nods and picks up the meds from the floor and stuffs them into the large front pocket of his sweatshirt. You hold out a hand to help him up but he declines, saying he can get up on his own.

"So you've been sick all day?" you ask as you walk up the stairs, you behind Harry in case he gets dizzy so he doesn't fall.

"No, only after lunch."

"And you weren't planning on telling me anything?"

"I was hoping it would pass, at first I thought I'd been sick from the food, but I remembered Lucy telling us she'd had a 24 hour virus and it all started to add up," he explains as we walk into our room. "I didn't come in earlier in case you guys were okay, so I wouldn't give it to you.

You go to the bathroom in your bedroom and start to take off Iris's clothes, leaving her puke-filled clothes in the laundry basket.

"I'm going to get some spare clothes for her and a clean t-shirt for you, yours are full of puke," Harry says, but you stop him from leaving the bathroom by getting in his way.

"No sir, you're going to hold your little girl while I go get clothes for the three of us, I don't want you to get dizzy in the middle of the hallway, fall and crack your head open, H, you've got a fever of almost 40º, sweetheart."

For a moment it looks like Harry is going to argue with you, but he gives up, you can tell he's tired and the fever isn't helping.

"Hand me Iris," you carefully hand him your baby and he cradles her in his arms. "Hello little sweetie pie, how are you? how are you feeling?"

You leave your daughter and her father in your master bathroom and run to your dressing room. You go to the drawer where Harry keeps his pyjamas and grab a pair of trousers and an old t-shirt that he now wears to bed, you also grab another t-shirt of his to put on yourself and directly swap it for the one you are wearing, leaving the one that is full of vomit in the laundry basket that you also have on the dresser.

You quickly return to Iris's room and grab some clean pyjamas for her as well. Her bed is still stained but you're not worried, Iris will probably sleep in your bed today, you'll clean it up tomorrow. 

You go back to the bathroom and find Harry sitting on the toilet. You walk over to him and squat down in front of him, Iris looks like she has finally fallen asleep in his arms.

"Are you all right?" he nods.

"Yep, while you were gone I gave her the medicine and she fell asleep straight away. "You lay the clothes on the floor and place your hand on his forehead, Harry leans against it, closing his eyes.

"Harry."

"Your hand is cool." he murmurs.

"You're burning up, you need to take something for your fever and go to bed."

"I'm fine."

"You're not," careful not to wake her, you take Iris from her arms. "I've brought you some pyjamas to change into, do you want me to help you?"

"I'm fine," she repeats, "just give me a minute."

He closes his eyes and leans further against the back of the toilet, you sigh and grab Iris's pajamas. With your daughter in your arms you go back to your room and try to get her dressed as quickly as you can. As you do so you keep an eye out for any noise coming from the bathroom.

You quickly finish getting Iris into her pyjamas and, as her cot is still dirty, you decide to leave her in your bed but with several cushions on her sides to prevent her from rolling out of bed while she sleeps. You return to the bathroom to find Harry just as you left him.

"Harry, baby," you call to him and he opens his eyes slightly.

"Hi baby, you look beautiful," he replies with a smile and you can't help but think how flattering he is even at times like this.

"I know you're really tired and the fever is getting to you right now, but I need you to change so we can go to bed."

"But honey, I'm great here."

"Tell that to your neck tomorrow..." you murmur." Come on Harry, make an effort for me."

"Come on, okay...but just cuddles today, I'm too tired for other things, I want to do those things but I'm too tired right now." he straightens up as he smirks. "Maybe tomorrow we could call Gemma and see if she can stay with the little lady and we can spend the afternoon alone mummy and daddy...in bed...or anywhere in the house."

"Whatever you want, H, but now we need to go to sleep." you're going to keep this moment of feverish horny Harry in your memory so you can torment him. "Come on, give me your hands."

Harry holds his arms out to you and you take them, with your help you get him to stand up but you immediately see his face turn completely pale.

"Oh, shit." he mutters before dropping to his knees on the floor.

He barely has time to lift the toilet seat when he begins to vomit. As before, you crouch down next to him, with one hand you try to brush his fringe away from his face while with the other you gently caress his back.

"That's it Harry, that's good," you murmur as he vomits.

"This is horrible," he comments once he stops retching. "How could you put up with this every day when you were pregnant?

"It's not pleasant, but having you by my side most of the time helped."

As before, when he finishes, he sits on the floor of your bathroom.

"When you're ready, you try to get up again, okay?" he nods. 

After a few minutes, Harry gets up again and this time he doesn't feel like throwing up. He takes off the hoodie and t-shirt he was wearing and you quickly slip on his pyjama top, then do the same with his trousers.

While he finishes putting on his pyjamas you take the two boxes of pills that are still in the pocket of his hoodie, pulling out of each box one and passing both pills to Harry.

"Take it," you say and he takes them from your hand.

You fill a glass next to the sink and fill it with water to give it to him as well. He takes the pills and you internally pray that taking the water won't make him vomit again.

" Shall we go to bed? I just want to sleep," he murmurs and you nod, but before you can turn towards the bathroom door he hugs you. "Thank you for taking care of me.

"H, I love you, taking care of you is something I want to do, you're never a burden, my love."

"I love you." You pull apart and he pouts. "Kissy?"

"You're sick, you want to pass it to me?"

"No no, I don't want to, I'm sorry." but he's so cute that you can't resist and you stand on tiptoe so you can kiss him softly and slowly.

Instantly he runs one of his hands around your waist, pulling you closer to him, and you can't help but smile against his lips. Soon after, he stops kissing you, but he doesn't take his hand off your waist.

"Let's go to bed," he says, but without pulling away from you. "I'm tired and I want to sleep, I want to cuddle."

"Come on," you reply, leaving a kiss on his cheek, "but I wanted to ask you something first."

"Yeah, sure."

"While you were sick in the studio, were Tom and Mitch there?"

"Yes, why?"

"And they were looking after you?"

"Yeah, and if I'm honest with you, they looked like nurses instead of musicians, more than once they wanted to call you or call the doctor but I told them not to." Harry laughs wearily and you smile. "Also, watching Mitch with a mop and a bucket of water in the middle of the studio cleaning up my vomit was something I never thought I'd see.

"You have to tell me more... but tomorrow, we have to go to sleep now."

"Yes, please."

You both walk to your bed, Iris is still asleep just as you left her in the middle. Neither of you move her, she is so peaceful, and you simply climb into bed each on one side. Once inside and covered with the duvet you turn to face each other, with Iris in the middle.

"I love you," you whisper and Harry nods slightly. 

It doesn't take Harry more than a couple of minutes to fall asleep but you stay awake a little longer watching the love of your life and your daughter sleep peacefully. You might wake up tomorrow with the same virus as them from watching over them, but you would do it again and again for them.

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Thanks for reading and I hope you liked it, please leave any comments or leave a like it if you enjoyed it.

See you soon :)

#harry styles fic rec

[watermelonlovershigh]

a house isn't a home without you [dadrry]

summary: they’re both still in love and a traumatic experience is what brings them back together.

word count: 3,473

warnings: mentions and themes of stillbirth/miscarriage, please do not read if those things are triggering to you <3

a/n: hey angels, this is a rewrite of a very old fic from an old fandom, all edited and made into a harry fic for you guys :) this also is a bit of a touchy and sensitive fic, so please read the warnings above and i completely understand if it’s not something you can read – take care of yourselves!!

//

Harry pulls up in his driveway—his old driveway. Gracie blabbers to herself in the backseat, chubby hands clapping together as she gurgles a little laugh. Harry watches her through the rearview mirror with a smile before turning to Leo, who sits in the passenger's seat.

Gracie is the spitting image of Y/N—no questions asked. The only thing she got from Harry was his curls. Leo? Harry’s double. He has Y/N’s eyes, sure, but he is his father's son.

“Alright, let's go see Mum!” Harry exclaims in the most excited tone he can, but it pains him so fucking much to know he’ll have to face her again. He thought it’d get easier over time, but it never does.

“Mumma,” Gracie squeaks from the backseat and Harry smiles at her sweetly. “Yeah, baby. Go see Mumma.” Gracie kicks her little legs and claps her hands. Though she is a complete Daddy’s girl, she’s a sucker for her Mum.

“Are you still coming to my game on Wednesday?” Leo asks his Dad, the seven-year-old eager to show Harry how much he’s been practising for the baseball game this week.

Harry nods and ruffles the boy's hair. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, bud. Now, get your stuff while I get Gracie out of the car.” He kills the engine and unlocks the door, getting Gracie out of her seat and holding her on his hip.

She giggles and peppers sloppy kisses to Harry’s cheek, little fingers playing with his dark curls and he helps his son get their overnight bags out of the trunk.

Leo races for the front door and bolts through it, making his presence known. Harry shortly follows, taking deep breaths. It’s been seven months and it’s still so fucking hard. It shouldn’t be this hard.

“Hi, baby!” Y/N calls out, racing for her little boy and scooping him up in her arms. Leo wraps his arms around his mothers neck before she lowers him back to the ground and ruffles his brown locks.

“Hope you’ve been good for Dad.” She sas, hesitantly looking at Harry who still looks just as nervous as she does.

Gracie kicks up a fuss at the lack of attention she’s receiving from Y/N, and she takes her from Harry’s arms, cuddling her into her chest and she coos.

Harry swallows back his nerves or whatever the fuck it is that’s threatening to spew out of him. “She was walking around with her little walker and tripped. She bruised her knee a little but she’s okay,” Harry tells her.

You hum and kiss the eleven-month-olds head, setting her down on the floor and she rushes off, crawling for her toys that she didn’t take with her to Harry’s.

“Leo’s got that game on Wednesday at the school,” Y/N reminds him, but Harry waves his hand with a little smile.

“Yeah, I’ll be there, don’t worry.” He assures her and she nods her head, swaying back and forth on the balls of her feet.

Harry drinks her in for a moment. Y/N’s only wearing a burgundy sweater and black jeans but God, does she look good. Harry struggles to not compliment her, to not kiss her or hug her. And it’s so fucking hard.

So, instead, he asks something that will hurt him even more. “So how was your date?”

Y/N freezes, spluttering that she doesn’t know what he’s talking about but Harry laughs. “Leo told me. Said he heard you on the phone.” He explains.

She nods and takes a deep breath. “Uh, it was okay.” She shrugs, leading him to the kitchen where she grabs two bottles of water from the fridge.

Harry sits at the island opposite Y/N as she leans against the counter. “Just okay?” He raises his brow. Y/N sighs and shakes her head, staring at her feet.

“Harry, we don’t have to do this.” She sighs, trying to divert the conversation to something else, but Harry isn’t having it.

“Yes, we do. We were friends before we got together. Friends before we had kids. Friends before we got engaged. We were always friends first. I’m not losing that, too.”

Y/N stays quiet, tears pooling in her eyes and she shakes her head. “This is hard for me, too.” She whispers, to which Harry scoffs and shakes his head.

“Is it? ‘Cause you seem to be handling it just fine! Going out on these dates and moving on, while I’m stuck tryna figure out where the fuck we went wrong.”

“Harry, stop.”

“No, Y/N.”

“Harry!” Y/N raises her voice, eyeing the two young children behind him and he turns, heart sinking when he sees the horror on his baby's faces.

“Leo, why don’t you take your sister in the garden while I talk to Dad,” Y/N sighs, nodding to the backdoor, and slowly, he guides his sister outside and they sit on the grass, playing peekaboo.

It’s silent between them both and her heart is breaking. “I’m sorry.” Harry rasps, keeping his distance and she turns to look at him.

“You know where it all went wrong, Harry. And I’m trying so hard to get over what happened, to get over you.” Y/N whimpers, tears staining her cheeks and all Harry can do is stare at her stomach. The same stomach that carried Leo, the stomach that carried Gracie and Skyla.

“I miss her, too, you know.” He argues, defensive walls back up again and Y/N turns to him with a shaking chest.

“I never said you didn’t.” She cries, wiping the tears from under her eyes and Harry just wants to hold her, just wants to take it all back and be with her.

“I uh, I better get going,” he whispers, offering a soft smile and Y/N nods, keeping her eyes locked on the floor she’s standing on.

Harry shoves his hands in his pockets, wandering out to the garden and calling for one more hug from his babies.

Y/N watches as they both pounce on him, attacking him with kisses and cuddles and his sweet laughter can be heard from where she’s standing.

He walks away and blows a kiss goodbye to his little girl, Leo too busy playing with the football, but Gracie looks like she’s about to burst into tears. She always hated saying goodbye to her Dad, even though she’d still see him the next day.

//

It’s 7 pm and Harry’s sitting on the couch in his new condo, eyes trailing over the lyrical mess in front of him but nothing’s really working. He’s already had to extend the album release by five months.

He’s been shit out of luck with work recently, and his team are constantly asking him when he’ll be ready to start something new. He tries, of course, he does. He doesn’t want to be in this state of limbo for too long, scared he’ll lose himself in it and the thought of that is fucking terrifying.

Ben sits next to him, laid back on the couch and scrolling through his phone with a beer in his hand, randomly showing Harry stupid memes on Instagram.

Harry’s about to start a live stream when Y/N’s face pops up on his screen and she’s calling him. He knows he should’ve changed her contact photo by now, that it shouldn’t be her massive grin as she holds up her hand and points to what once was her engagement ring.

Y/N’s contact picture shouldn’t be the memory he has of her when she said she’d marry him. He clears his throat and accepts the call, bringing the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Harry, I’m so sorry but you need to come and get the kids.” Harry stands from the couch in worry, brows furrowed as he searches for his car keys.

“Okay, is everything okay? What’s going on?” Ben stares at him in worry, eyes wide.

“You just really need to come and get them, please.”

And the line went dead. Harry panics, completely frantic as he races out of his apartment. He shoots past the elevator, knowing he’ll be quicker if he jumps down the stairs.

He tries to stay calm when he drives, Ben trying to ask what’s going on but all Harry can do is tell him what he knows. That he needs to get the kids right now.

He manages to get to Y/N’s house in record time, jumping out of the car and Gracie and Leo are on the front porch, the door half open and Harry rushes toward them.

“What’s going on?” He asks his son, can see the horror on his face and then he hears Y/N shouting at someone and a shattering of glass.

“I woke up to Mummy yelling at someone to get out and I don’t know what’s happening.” Leo hiccups.

Ben wanders over to the kids, scooping Gracie up which she doesn’t mind one bit, she always did like Ben. He takes them to the car, Harry telling him to watch them and to call the police.

He pushes through the half-open door and follows the sound of Y/N’s voice. She’s yelling, red in the face, and a blond man stands opposite her, angry and not giving a shit that he’s ruining her night and home.

“Hey, what the fuck do you think you’re doing.” Harry squares up to him, shoving him into the wall and the blond grunts, struggling to shove Harry back.

Harry’s bigger than he is, a bit leaner and a lot stronger. “Oh, so he’s the dude that’s stopping me from getting into your pants.”

With that, Harry throws a fist into his face, his head bouncing back onto the wall and Harry pulls away from him, scurrying over to Y/N and taking her hands in his.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Harry panics, noticing the bruises that are already beginning to form all up her arms.

There’s glass all over the floor, a kitchen stool thrown across the room and Gracie’s toys have been poured out from the boxes and launched across the room.

Y/N panics, tugging on his shirt when she notices James and his sickening grin. Harry turns around, arms out to block Y/N from his sight and all she wants is to hold her babies and tell them that it’s okay.

“Get out James. Just fuck off. I told you, I’m not fucking interested!” She cries out from behind Harry, now standing beside him but behind his arm.

James laughs and takes a step forward. Harry’s trying to push Y/N behind him but she won’t have any of it.

“You scared my kids. My fucking kids! Now get the fuck out of my house before I fucking kill you.” She threatens him, her maternal instincts clouding everything else.

James looks past Y/N and to Harry, skin paling at the hard look he holds. He knows Harry’s about to break his nose if he doesn’t leave, so he scoffs at them both and walks toward the front door.

“No wonder he fucking left you. You’re a worthless piece of shit.” He spits, but Harry is quick to wipe the smirk off his face by delivering another blow to his nose.

Y/N lets out a shriek of shock, flinching at the crunch of Harry’s fist connecting with James’ face, a sickening sound she wants to get out of her head.

“Say something about her one more time and see what fucking happens.” Harry spits back, sick to his sHarryach that someone can say something like that to someone so fucking wonderful.

Just as James is about to run off, a police car skids its way outside the house and stops. Three police officers come bursting out, Harry shouting that James is the guy they called about. It’s mere moments for the officers to take a look around and see what’s happening, and a split second later, they’re putting the cuffs on James.

Harry’s attention is pulled away from the scene at the sound of Y/N’s exhausted sobs, his heart breaking as she collapses into his chest the second he puts his arms around her.

“You’re okay, honey. You’re okay.” Harry whispers, cooing her the best he can but she pulsl away in panic.

“The kids! Where are the-“

“In the car with Ben. They’re okay, I promise.” Harry reassures her, stroking the hair from her face and kissing her forehead.

They both watch as James is being escorted from the house, his head down like he wouldn’t dare breathe another word to either of them.

“Ma’am we’re going to need a statement before we can do anything else.”

Y/N nods, breaking away from Harry. She explains that James showed up at her door and asked if he could talk. Explained how he made a move and tried to pin her to the wall, got angry and smashed up her daughter's toys.

“Were the kids at home when this happened?” The officer asks, a solemn expression on her face and Y/N nods, sniffling into the sleeve of her jumper.

“Yeah, I called Harry straight away to come and get the kids when I realised he wasn’t going to leave.” Y/N confirms, and somehow through the midst of her explanation, her hand had reached for Harry’s and their fingers became intertwined.

“And where are the children now?”

Harry steps in, “Ben, their uncle… he came with me, he’s got them in the car outside.”

It’s another twenty minutes before they take James away in the squad car and leave the premises. Y/N is left with a trashed kitchen, swollen eyes and an aching heart. She can’t bear to look at the mess for much longer.

“You’re not staying here. Pack a bag, you and the kids can stay at the condo with me tonight.” Harry tells Y/N and for once, she doesn't argue.

He follows her upstairs, breathing hitching when he sees the bedroom, the bedroom he hasn’t seen for seven months. The bedroom he made love to her in, the bedroom he’d wake up in every morning.

And nothing’s changed. She still keeps the picture of them both at her sister's wedding on her nightstand. She still keeps the furniture the same. And when they go into her closet to pull out some clothes, Harry still sees one of his shirts tucked into the back, a shirt he knows she loved to wear to bed.

Y/N throws a pair of clothes and underwear into the bag, along with a phone charger and some makeup. Harry watches her from the doorframe he leans on, scared to walk into the room after the fight they both had the last time he was in there.

But then she freezes and breaks into sobs and Harry doesn’t care anymore. He pushes himself forward and holds her close to his chest as she apologises profusely, to which he tells her to stop because none of this is her fault.

He grabs Y/N’s bag and leads her downstairs, helping her to lock the doors and leading her out onto the drive. She can see that the kids are asleep in the backseat, Ben sitting between them with their little heads resting on his shoulders.

She opens the door to the passenger's side and climbs in, turning around to look at her babies and old friend.

“Hi, Benny,” she whispers, a small smile on her lips and he smiles softly back at her, understanding that she’s been through hell tonight.

“Thank you,” she whispers once again, and he shakes his head, tells her there’s nothing to thank him for and that he’ll do anything for his niece and nephew.

When Harry gets in the car, he drives off right away, not wanting to look at that house for another second. Ben watches as Harry changes the gear stick and Y/N takes her chance to rest her hand on his.

It’s like the stars are aligning when their fingers intertwine for a second time and she gives him a little squeeze. Ben bites back his little smile and takes a deep breath, know’s he doesn’t have to worry for Harry anymore, that everything is going to work itself out.

Harry drops Ben off first, bids him a good night, thanks him, and tells him he’ll text him in the morning. After that, it's just his family in the car... family.

By the time Harry pulls up at the condo, it’s almost 10pm and Y/N just wants to sleep, but she knows that won't be coming anytime soon. She follows Harry up the stairs and to his apartment, Gracie sleeping in her arms and Leo in Harry’s.

His condo is nice, homely, actually. Gracies toys are sprawled out everywhere and she even has her own highchair. Y/N follows him down to their bedrooms, in complete awe of how Harry has them decorated. He made a home for himself and the kids in just seven months. A home she’s not a part of.

Y/N kisses the children goodnight and follows Harry into his kitchen. No words are spoken as she takes a seat at the kitchen island and he puts the kettle on, pottering around and making her a peanut butter sandwich. Funny how he still remembers her comfort food.

“I’m so sorry,” she croaks out, disgusted with herself that she let something like this happen. Harry shakes his head and grabs her hands, kissing her cold knuckles.

“You have nothing to apologise for. Just tell me what happened, darling.”

And she does. She tells him that she’s not ready to move on because she’s still so fucking in love with him. She tells him that she cries herself to sleep every night and that nothing smells like him anymore and it hurts.

It hurts to have lost her child, and it hurts to have lost him. All Harry can do is listen and cry with her, just hold her and make her feel safe.

“It was meant to be us five, but we lost her and then I lost you.” Y/N sobs, heart shattering at the thought of their daughter—the daughter they never got to meet. The sister Leo never got to protect. The twin Gracie never got to grow with. The daughter Y/N and Harry never got to fucking hear the cries of.

“I miss her so fucking much.” Harry sobs, clutching onto Y/N like she’s his lifeline, and she is, her and the kids. Y/N holds him like he holds her and for once, she feels okay. Not a lot, but a little.

“And you have the house and the kids all the time, but I feel so alone,” Harry admits and he knows he shouldn't hold it against Y/N, and he doesn't, but she has Gracie and Leo every day and he just feels so lonely.

“A house isn’t a home without you, Harry.” She whimpers, forehead resting against his and he tucks a strand of hair out of her face. “I miss you, Y/N. I miss everything.” Harry sniffles, holding her close.

“Come home. Please, come home.”

He stares at her for a moment, praying to God that this isn’t a dream, and when she presses her lips against his, he knows it’s not. It’s been seven months since he tasted those lips, but God does he remember how sweet they are.

He kisses her back, hands holding the sides of her face and she swears she never wants to forget how good it feels to be in his arms again, to be where she belongs.

“I love you,” she mumbles against his lips, gently tugging on his curls and Harry can’t help but laugh the most joyous laugh ever. “I love you, too, baby. So fucking much.” He whimpers.

Y/N rests her forehead on his and takes a shaky breath. “Then come home. Come home to us.” She pleads, and she knows it’s the right thing to do, she knows it’s written in the stars, her and him.

When they lost Skyla, their whole lives changed, and Harry couldn’t take it. They grew distant with each other until they were just strangers with children, and he left. It didn’t matter that they loved each other beyond words, they were both foolish and hurt.

And now, here she is, realising her mistake and begging for the love of her life to come back home to her, to be a family with her and Gracie and Leo. And no one needs to ask Harry twice. So, he nods his head and smiles wide.

“Okay.”

//

thank u so much for reading! feedback is very much appreciated and if you have anything pieces you'd like for me to write or any ideas, let me know!!

#harry styles fic rec

[watermelonlovershigh]

mr romantic [fratrry]

summary: harry's never been a romantic, but if there's one thing he's good at, it's sex.

word count: 2,260

warnings: kissing, teasing, swearing, smut; fingering, daddy kink, dirty talk, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex.

a/n: umm it's been a hot fucking minute since I last wrote anything remotely smutty, and I've really been in my smutty daze feels so I'm hoping to pump out as much stuff for you guys as possible bc pregnancy hormones are crazy and idk when I'll next get a smutty surge hahaha. anyway, enjoy!

//

Nothing is ever innocent with Harry, you should’ve learnt your lesson by now. He never just comes over to help you study, or watch a movie. So why did you think tonight would be any different?

Maybe you just hoped your boyfriend would be a little more spontaneous in the romantic sense. Because he is spontaneous, absolutely. But you’re not sure Harry has a single romantic bone in his body.

And if he does, he doesn’t seem to have any need nor want to show it.

You don’t want to complain about him, not in the slightest — because he does make you happy, and you do love him with every ounce of your being.

It’s just sometimes, you’d appreciate the little things. Like a kiss to your knuckles, or a random bunch of flowers. You get the pet names; baby, darling, love — but that’s as far as endearment goes with Harry.

Maybe it’s just a phase, you find yourself wondering most of the time. Perhaps he’s just in that horny, frat boy era and the second university is over, that’s when the romance will start.

If you’re honest, you’re kind of hoping so. You don’t need romance, your relationship is passionate enough without it, but God, a little would be nice.

So really, in hindsight, you shouldn't have expected some cute date when Harry told you he was picking you up this evening for pizza and a late night drive.

You got your pizza (Harry’s treat), before piling back up in his car for a late night drive.

You can’t lie, late drives with Harry are one of your favourite things to do together. Windows down, blaring music. And maybe you were a little harsh earlier.

There’s been a couple instances where a drive has turned into parking at the peak of a hill, the pair of you laid across the bonnet trying to count all the stars you could see above you.

That’s not what tonight was supposed to be, because the drive lasted fifteen minutes before Harry stuck his hand down your knickers and his tongue in your mouth.

But you’ll never complain about that.

He’s gentle in the most feverish way possible. He needs you, wants you, craves you—but his touch is soft and tender, each caress bringing another surge of warmth to the surface of your skin.

The windows are foggy, though you haven’t opened your eyes in a while. Harry’s got his mouth enveloped over your pearled nipple, suckling and nibbling oh so gently.

One hand is stuffed in your knickers, the other around your throat. Your seat’s been reclined all the way back, your body completely horizontal as he hovers over you.

You never want to open your eyes, not even to take a peek. You’re too in awe of the way he makes you feel - even with the gentlest of touches.

His fingers toy with your clit, rubbing in such tight circles it feels more like a side-to-side movement. But it’s what you love and Harry knows it.

He’s always known how to get you there; when to push, when to pull. Your body relaxes completely when he has his way – no part of you has ever doubted his touch, never will.

“I wanna touch you,” you pant.

Your hips are rolling against his hand, back arching ever so slightly when he bites a little harder than before. Harry pecks your perked nipple, doting kisses across your chest and neck until his lips are level with your ear.

“I don’t remember telling you to speak.”

Oh. We’re playing like that tonight.

You purse your lips shut tight, knowing exactly what Harry wants from this. A smirk graces his stupidly handsome face as he kisses the corner of your mouth.

“That’s a good girl. Keep your mouth closed and let Daddy get to work.”

You can feel your eyes roll to the back of your head, feel the hairs on your body stand on end, feel the gush of arousal seep from your cunt.

Harry lets his hand dip further into your knickers, the tip of his middle finger swiping at the throbbing entrance of your pussy. You’re soaking wet, a little plump with anticipation.

He teases your hole for a few moments, tauntingly dipping a finger to the first knuckle before withdrawing again. It’s an agonising game he likes to play – to see how long until you’re begging for something more, for anything.

Last time, it ended in you sobbing for his cock, you wouldn’t stop until it was shoved down your throat. Such a naughty girl. Harry’s cock leaps at the memory, but that’s not how tonight is going to go.

Maybe if you’re good, you can have his cock when you get home. Maybe he’ll let you suck him to sleep, only if you’re lucky. For now, though, he’s too fucking horny for the foreplay.

Harry crawls down your body, reaching under the seat to push it back as far as it goes, and he settles in the foot space below.

Pulling your underwear down your legs, Harry props your thighs so they rest over his shoulders, leaving him with a faceful of your glistening cunt. His mouth salivates, eyes dark and hooded.

The smell of your arousal alone is enough to send Harry into a state of euphoric bliss, so it’s no shock to you when he very quickly buries his face between your thighs and laps up your cunt.

His tongue is warm and skilled, flat as he runs a stripe from your leaking hole to your throbbing clit, then wraps his lips around your nub, suckling and flicking as your back arches.

You know how this goes – keep your eyes closed and hands to yourself. And most importantly, keep that pretty little mouth shut.

“Such a sweet fucking cunt, baby.”

You jut your hips into his face, grinding against his tongue and he drags it back to your hole. It’s pure ecstasy, complete and utter bliss.

Harry reaches for your hands, guides them to your chest. You waste no time in grabbing your tits, pinching nipples between fingers the way Harry would.

He lets his hands snake back down to your hips, holding you in place with one as the other sneaks between your thighs. Harry spits your arousal back over your hole, his finger spreading it across your pussy and taunting your entrance.

A sweet gasp slips past your lips at the sensation–the feel of him circling your cunt and easing his thick digit in. One knuckle… two… he curls his finger as he eases into the third and your back arches.

“You’re being such a good girl for me, darling.”

The praises feel like clouds surrounding you, making you feel light and airy. You love nothing more than hearing Harry tell you how good you’ve been. And Harry loves nothing more than telling you, watching you buck and squeak in response.

He’s quick to put his lips back on your clit, slurping and flicking with his skilled tongue. There’s something so filthy about doing this in the car, parked in a ditch at the side of the road.

Anyone could catch you, anyone could drive past and see. Neither of you give a shit. He’s too busy burying his face in your cunt and you’re too busy trying to keep your breathing regulated.

His tongue works meticulously, swiping and folding at every tender point he knows. Your legs are starting to shake, knees folding in and smacking against the back of his head but he doesn’t care.

Harry will welcome any pain if it comes with your pleasure. That’s how he’s always been. If you’re not crushing his skull, he’s not doing a good enough job.

He doesn’t need verbal reassurance. He has no doubts he makes you feel like an angel. Watching you react, the way your body folds and coils, the limp noises that escape your pretty lips, it feeds Harry.

It’s not long before your entire body begins to twitch; involuntarily jerking at every suck, every curve of his finger. Harry works your G-spot until you’re seeing stars behind closed eyes, until your jaw is slack and strangled, wanton moans break through the silence.

It’s music to his fucking ears, everything he’s ever wanted to hear and more. If he could, he’d catch your cries on tape, have them replayed in his headphones all hours of the day.

He lets you get closer and closer–teetering you to the edge until you’re fucking desperate. Harry’s rock hard in his pants, can actually feel the precum beginning to seep out of his cock.

Now, he’s never been a selfish lover (in or out of bed), but right now, he doesn’t want to let you finish – he wants to see you beg and cry and shove his thick length in your tiny little cunt.

He wants to stretch you out with no warning, fuck you into that damn seat until you’re desperately holding onto something, anything. In Harry’s mind, there’s nothing more pressing, more desirable than that.

So he pulls away the second you’re about to burst. You’re far too dazed and confused to fully realise what he’s just done; that he’s actually stopped you from reaching your high.

And it’s only when your eyes finally start to flutter open that you notice what he’s doing. How his joggers are pulled down mid-thigh and his bright red cock is heavy in his hand.

You blink a couple of times, clearing your distorted vision. His length is angry, desperate for touch as his top stays an agonising shade of purple.

You start to reach closer, to touch him, kiss him, make him feel as good as he’s made you – but Harry swats your hand away and pushes on your chest so you’re laid back in the seat.

You watch him with eager eyes, the way he smears his full cock across your cunt, soaking in the juices you’ve left and the mess he’s made of you. His tip pushes at your clit, a shock of bliss coursing through your body.

“You’re gonna take this cock like the good girl you are, okay?”

You nod pathetically, rolling your hips to meet his. Harry slaps his length against your pussy, allowing you to feel the sheer weight of it before he lines himself up with your weeping hole.

With a slap to your thigh, he pushes forward, slowly – until you’re accustomed to the size. His balls gently knock at your ass, the short hairs on his pubic bone tickling at your clit and you gnaw down on your bottom lip.

He finds a slow rhythm, eyes locked on where your bodies intertwine. Each time he pulls out, he’s shinier than before, soaking in your arousal and it only makes him harder.

Both hands find homage to your hips, fingers marking the skin as he holds a firm grip.

It’s merely seconds before Harry picks up his pace and starts to fuck into you, each thrust more forceful than the last. Your cunt begins to tighten around him; pulsing and twitching in excitement.

Harry struggles to keep quiet, grunting between heavy pants as he reaches for your clit. He begins to rub, gently flicking from side to side in effort to get you to where you were before.

And it works, like fucking magic.

You’re gripping your tits and biting down on your tongue to keep you from screaming, your eyes rolled so far back you’re not sure you’ll see straight for days. And when he pinches your clit, giving it a little twist, it’s like your entire world implodes.

Harry fucks you through it; rougher, harder. Even with him stuffing your cunt, arousal still manages to seep through the sides of his cock, slipping down your ass and dripping onto his seat.

He doesn’t give a shit, not in the slightest. Harry’s mesmerised by the way your body falls limp and you struggle to catch your breath. He feels his own release catching up with him at the sight of your fucked out face and pretty, pearled nipples.

“Daddy’s good girl. My good fucking girl.”

Your body quakes, a second, all-consuming orgasm creeping up on you. There’s no stopping it, not as he hits all the right places, and just as you cum all over him, he shoots his load into you.

Harry can’t stop the uncontrollable moans that tear through his throat, the need and exhaustion peeling off him. He keeps his movements slow and steady, using your hole to milk himself dry, watching your chest rapidly rise and fall.

“Holy shit,” he croaks, running a hand through his hair as he takes a deep breath.

You admire him for a second, needing a moment to come to your senses. You were right, the windows are fogged, nearly dripping with condensation, actually. You giggle to yourself, offering Harry a shy smile and he grins.

“Shall we go back to your dorm and finish the last two episodes of Lucifer?”

Harry asks the question like he isn’t still rock hard and buried in your cunt. You can’t help the laugh that escapes your lips but you nod, nonetheless, amused and somewhat impressed by the duality of this man.

You suppose that while Harry isn’t necessarily a romantic, he knows what you like and still caters to your every need. And if fucking you in the middle of nowhere and then offering cuddles and a tv show after is as close to romantic as you’re gonna get, you’ll take it.

#harry styles fic rec

[watermelonlovershigh]

by morning

summary: y/n’s going through a rough patch and harry knows just what she needs to feel better.

word count: 2,638

warnings: mentions of depression, anxiety and panic attacks.

a/n: this is literally just something I really resonate with and I wish I had a significant other to take care of my when my spirals of depression get bad bc they always make me feel lonely, so enjoy this little comfort piece. 

//

For the most part, Y/N’s pretty confident in what she does and how she does it. She knows her limits (though she still pushes past them), and she knows her worth. Lately, however, lines have blurred and she’s lost herself in seas of self doubt and anxiety.

For the past two weeks, she’s kept it to herself. She’s managed to smear a smile on her lips and get on with it, but tonight, after a particularly awful day at work, she doesn’t have it in her to pretend anymore.

When she gets home, all teary-eyed and pouty-lipped, Harry knows his suspicions were true.

Keep reading

#harry styles fic rec

[watermelonlovershigh]

seven hours [dadrry]

summary: y/n and harry finally have some time to themselves.

word count: 7,172

warnings: kissing, teasing, swearing, smut; dirty talk, fingering, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex

a/n: this is heavily based on that gif of harry on stage and waving with a massive grin to the camera, and there was no way in hell that i wouldn’t write what i fantasised in the tags of my reblog lmao. it’s smut (again), so enjoy!

//  

Neya bounces on her toes, fingers clinging to the edge of the kitchen counter as she looks over it, eyes as wide as saucers when she notices her mother packing away two Fredo chocolates in her lunch box. Her eyes meet Y/N’s as she presses a finger to her lips, winking at the young child, and Neya’s smile grows twice as wide.  

“Neya, baby. Are you ready?” The sound of Harry’s voice from the other room has them both quickly closing her lunchbox and giggling softly between them both. Neya thinks Y/N sneakily put chocolate in her lunchbox without Harry knowing, but Harry always knows.  

Keep reading

#harry styles fic rec

[watermelonlovershigh]

yours (ymls check-in)

in which y/n just wants to be harry's — officially.

word count: 3.8k

content warnings: parenting/family stuff (y/n and harry are parents), smut (breeding kink, slight size kink, literal one "mommy" mention, dirty talk)

ymls masterlist | main masterlist

talk to me

. . .

Parenthood is difficult.

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out, so it takes Harry and Y/N approximately two minutes of bringing Clementine into the world to come to the same realization. Her loud wails break their hearts every time, sleep becomes a luxury, and breastfeeding takes an incredible toll on Y/N’s physical and mental health.

But in the same way that parenting is hard and filled with tears and confusion, it’s just as — if not more — rewarding.

Clementine is the best thing that’s ever happened to each of them. Harry can’t remember a version of his life where he wasn’t head-over-heels in love with his sweet baby girl, and Y/N has softened up a considerable amount now that she spends most of her day cooing to her daughter. 

It’s not perfect by any means — Clem is a tried-and-true daddy’s girl and sometimes it hurts Y/N’s feelings. Clementine also inherited her mom’s grumpy exterior and, in the middle of a visit from Harry’s parents or Y/N’s sister, will starfish her body, going completely rigid until one of her parents takes her. (Harry always thinks it’s funny while Y/N is embarrassed by it. It’s something they’re working on as a family.)

Beyond their little trio, though, lies a larger situation that’s been conveniently tucked away since Clementine was born: Harry and Y/N’s relationship. 

They never decided what they were after confessing feelings for one another. One day, they lived separately and were going the route of platonic co-parenting. The next, Harry moved all his things into Y/N’s, ended the lease on his own apartment, and painted the guest room a pretty pastel pink. 

At first, it didn’t seem like that big of a deal. Y/N has never cared for labels on relationships, and their devotion to each other was blatant — they were parenting a child together, after all. He kissed her good morning, they held hands on family walks, and at the end of the day, they were crawling into bed together. She didn’t need a ring or a title to reiterate where she stood in Harry’s life.

Until… well, until the supermarket incident.

It was a rainy day, but Y/N wanted to pop into the store before they rounded the corner to head back home. Now that Clementine’s pediatrician gave them the okay to start trying out solid foods — or, as solid as baby food can be — Harry had gotten really into making it from scratch. Currently, their kitchen was a mess of sweet potato, apple, and green bean purees, but Y/N was trying to be supportive, even if the noise of the blender sometimes woke Clem up from her afternoon nap. She remembered him mentioning a new recipe he found for carrots, mangos, and bananas, so she figured they could grab the ingredients on their way home. 

Clementine looked adorable in her cute little rain jacket and matching hat. Harry couldn’t stop taking pictures of her, and as they dipped into the produce aisle, stroller in tow, she remembered they needed another gallon of milk since they were trying to wean Clem off of Y/N’s breast milk. 

“You guys can stay right here, it’s just in the next aisle,” Y/N said, arms stuffed with produce bags. Harry nodded, though his attention primarily laid on Clementine’s gummy smile. Y/N snorted to herself as she quickly shuffled off to the dairy section — the duo were two peas in a pod, but she didn't think she would want it any other way. 

Glancing down at her watch, she put a pep in her step as she walked back to the produce aisle. They had about 15 minutes before Clem started getting antsy and whiney about her pre-dinner nap, and she didn’t want her to get upset on their walk home. 

Only, when she turned the aisle, Harry and Clementine weren’t alone anymore — no, there were two women standing with them, cooing over their daughter. 

“She’s so precious! How old is she?” one of them asked.

“Ah, almost eight months,” Harry replied bashfully, petting down the tuft of brown curls at the top of Clementine’s head. Y/N clenched her jaw. Why had he taken her hat off? It was supposed to protect her from the rain! 

“So sweet,” the other woman grinned, reaching out to thumb over Clementine’s puffy cheek. The vision sent a pang of jealousy through Y/N’s chest — her baby wasn’t some kind of doll that anyone could just touch! Clutching the produce and container of milk in her hands, Y/N all but marched over to the stroller and threw them in the bottom compartment. 

“Ready to go, honey?” 

Harry blinked at Y/N, a world of confusion swirling in the green eyes he shared with his daughter. She stayed silent and still, knuckles white from gripping the stroller handle so tightly. 

“Yeah,” he finally replied, leaning down to gently place Clementine back in her seat, “This is Y/N, Clementine’s mum.”

“Oh, your baby is so sweet! Harry was just raving about you!” one of the women nearly squealed. Y/N smiled tightly as she watched him buckle Clementine in.

“Okay, say bye bye, Clem,” Harry murmured. They’d been trying to teach her how to wave hello and goodbye, but Y/N would rather scoop her own eyeballs out than watch her do it for the first time with these women. 

In fact, she was already pushing the stroller down the end of the aisle before they could even get the word “bye” out.

Since that day about two weeks ago, it’s been constantly replaying in the back of Y/N’s brain. Even though Harry didn’t think much of it (she knows this because he immediately started talking about nonsense on the walk home), for the first time, it plucked at a chord of insecurity that she didn’t even know she had. She’d always felt fairly secure in her relationship with Harry — he’d all but begged her for this life together, and he’d been incredibly involved from the moment she got pregnant — so how is that two random strangers at the supermarket tore this out of her? 

It bothered her so deeply to the point where she did something she’d never done before: Ask Lea for relationship advice. 

“In the years I’ve known you, you have never asked me for help with a man,” Lea had said, her eyebrows raised so high they nearly met her hairline. Y/N grumbled as she wrapped her hand around her matcha, avoiding eye contact with her friend. She’d been able to sneak out for an afternoon coffee date with her while Harry took Clementine to the park. “You’re always so… sure of yourself. And you have a literal child with Harry. What gives?”

Y/N shrugged as she rubbed her lips together nervously. “You should’ve seen the way those girls were all over him. It was… gross.”

“It’s normal to feel jealous, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“I am not jealous,” she muttered, “I just… he introduced me as Clementine’s mom. Don’t you think I’m a bit… more than that to him?”

“Of course you are. But you’ve never had that conversation, have you?”

“Like you said, we have a baby together. What else could you need?”

Lea smirked, “That’s all that you need. But he probably needs a bit more confirmation than that.”

Y/N bristled as she stuck her straw between her lips, taking a long sip. 

“He knows we’re in a relationship, doesn’t he?” 

“I don’t know,” she replied honestly, “Dom and I used to hear all the gossip about you two before Clem was born, but since then, I think he’s just been focused on making sure you and her are both taken care of.”

“So what do I do?” Y/N asked through a sigh, leaning back against the worn leather of the booth. 

“Talk to him,” Lea said easily, “But… maybe don’t do it in your rough-and-tough-Y/N way. Maybe… make it a little special. He likes that, y’know? Little romantic gestures?”

Y/N scrunched her face. Lea was right — Harry was all about the little things, like surprising her with flowers or waking her up with breakfast in bed on the weekends. And while Y/N was positive she didn’t have a romantic bone in her body, she’d certainly attempt to find one if it meant making Harry happy. 

. . .

A few days later, Harry walks into his shared apartment with Y/N to the scent of something delicious. 

“Y/N?” he calls as he toes his shoes off in the entryway. They weren’t due for company, were they? He doesn’t think so, but with eight months straight of four to five hours of sleep each night, he had trouble remembering anything that wasn’t Clementine-related. 

He follows the fragrance into the kitchen, where Y/N is standing over the stove, stirring a bubbling pot of some sort of sauce. She jumps, hand over her heart, when he goes to greet her. 

“Jesus fuck, you scared me!” she exclaims, the wooden spoon nearly clattering to the floor. He smirks and lets out an amused laugh as he walks towards her, observing the array of pans on the stovetop. 

“What’s all this for?” he asks. Y/N presses a hand to his muscular chest and attempts to block him from seeing anything. 

“I’m making you dinner,” she mumbles, nibbling on her bottom lip, “Clem’s with my sister for the night.”

“Oh?”

She nods. 

“Did I forget a special occasion?”

She shakes her head.

“Then how come I’m getting spoiled tonight?”

Her cheeks warm at that, but they both pretend her blush is invisible. “I just wanted to do something… romantic for you.” 

“Romantic?” he repeats the word like it’s a bazaar concept and it makes a pit form in Y/N’s stomach, “That’s… sweet of you. Thank you.”

She nods, albeit a bit robotically. “Um. Yeah. It’ll be ready in like 5 minutes.”

“Sounds good,” he replies, “Do you want me to set the table?”

She shakes her head bashfully and Harry raises an eyebrow. “I already did that.”

Her demure nature makes a smile form at the edges of his lips and he reaches out to press a hand to her hip, squeezing gently. 

“Y’okay?” he asks softly, tilting his head to look at her. “You seem nervous.”

Y/N shrugs and it supplies him with a tepid answer. “I just wanna make this nice for you.”

His heart breaks a bit at that and he ducks lower to catch her lips in a short, sweet kiss. PDA isn’t irregular for them — not with touch being Harry’s primary love language — so it’s unsurprising to be on the receiving end of one of his dizzying kisses, even if it ends quicker than she’d like. 

“This is already so special to me. I do miss Clem, though.”

She snorts at that as he brushes his nose against hers. “Of course you do. She’s your mini me.”

“Except when she’s making that grumpy little face. That’s all you.”

Y/N lightly bats at his chest before mumbling out to go sit down in the dining room. 

Harry’s eyes widen when he sees the candlelit table — he can’t remember the last time they ate on actual plates, always opting for take-out containers or paper plates for the sake of convenience. He swallows as he sits down and listens to Y/N shuffle around the kitchen. He hears her curse, followed by what sounds like her emptying pasta into a colander — she always burns herself whenever she does that, and he can envision the slight grimace that appears on her face. 

Just as he’s getting antsy and preparing himself to ask if she needs any help, Y/N appears from the kitchen with a big bowl of pasta. She nibbles on her bottom lip as she places it on the table, then stands up straight. She looks like a soldier waiting to be told to return to their duties.

“Um… I made us that roasted red pepper pasta you like.” she says, wringing her hands out in front of her. “I hope that’s fine.”

“That’s great,” Harry nods, gesturing to the seat across from him, “Sit down. You look like you’re gonna have an aneurysm. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes,” Y/N grumbles as she sits down, and the sound of her grouchy voice makes him chuckle as he grabs her bowl to serve her, “I know I’m not, like… the most romantic person, or even the easiest person to be around, so it’s important to me that I make this really good for you.”

“I hate when you say that,” he murmurs before placing her full bowl in front of her. He moves to serve himself, “You’re the easiest person I’ve ever been around. You’re a great mum and I love being a parent with you.”

Y/N swallows as she listens to him, leaving her food untouched. He watches her and takes a bite of his pasta, chewing slowly. 

“Is that… all I am to you?” she asks softly with low eyes. Harry furrows his eyebrows.

“What do you mean?”

“Like… am I still just a co-parent to you?” 

He sets his fork down and uses his napkin to wipe his mouth. “Well, we never really talked about it, I guess. But you know you’re more than that to me.”

“You’re more than just Clem’s dad to me,” she continues. “And it kinda hurt my feelings when you introduced me to those girls as ‘Clementine’s mom’ a few weeks back.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, “Oh. I didn’t think anything of it.”

“I know.”

His heart strains at the thought of hurting her feelings, but he also knows that what happened in the supermarket was weeks ago. Had she been sitting on it and thinking about it all this time?

“I never want to make you uncomfortable, Y/N. To be honest, I don’t know how to refer to you but… I’d say you’re my partner, yeah? You’re my teammate in raising our beautiful girl and I love getting to live life with you.”

Her heart thumps rapidly in her chest. “But what if… what if you called me your girlfriend, too?”

Harry’s silent for a moment. He reaches out to place his hand on her knee, squeezing softly.

“Would you want that?” he asks. “I’ll only do it if that’s what you want.”

She looks up at him and nods. Her eyes are glassy and it makes Harry’s chest tighten. Suddenly, he needs to be closer to her, so he stands up and scoops her into his arms. At first she rejects his touch, mumbling out sentiments about still having postpartum weight, but Harry shushes her and pulls her into his lap. 

“Tell me what you’re feeling, Y/N.” he murmurs. He leans up and presses a chaste kiss to the side of her neck. She shivers and he keeps his hands as solid anchors on her hips. 

“I want you to call me your girlfriend,” she says, lifting her gaze to look at him. “I don’t want you to entertain any other person or let them flirt with you or touch our baby. I just want it to be the three of us, always.”

If Harry’s being honest, he would have been content with living in this gray, in-between area with Y/N for the rest of their lives. He was happy — so incredibly happy to be in her life, to sleep next to her every night, to raise a gorgeous baby girl with her. He felt fortunate to be there for every moment, good and bad — but he would be a liar if he said he hadn’t been waiting for the day where she told him what was really going on in that pretty head of hers.

He presses a chaste kiss to her temple. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings,” he says quietly, soft fingertips smoothing over the expanse of her hip, “You’re my girlfriend, okay? Not just Clemmie’s mum. You’re so much more than that.”

She nods her head and Harry smiles gently at how flustered she continues to be — it’s a side of her that he rarely sees, and the sight makes a low chuckle sound from deep in his chest. 

“You’re silly,” he mumbles against the shell of her ear. “Isn’t that what you are? A silly baby desperate to be mine?”

Y/N bristles and swallows harshly, keeping her gaze low in his lap. His smirk only grows as he begins to press slow kisses along her jaw and down to her neck. Her eyes flutter closed. 

“Everyone thinks you’re this pretty, grumpy girl, but I know better than that,” he continues, sliding his hands beneath her tee-shirt to feel her warm skin, “You’re loving and kind. The best mum I’ve ever seen. The best partner and the best girlfriend, too. Isn’t that right, mama?”

She gasps wetly and he feels her thighs threaten to clench, but his hips prevent her from getting any relief. He hums, satisfied with her response and, in a quick movement, pulls her shirt from her body and tosses it to the floor. Her swollen breasts sit prettily on her chest and he tries his best not to groan at the sight. 

“Don’t tease,” she mewls. He chuckles as she grasps at the fabric of his own tee-shirt, the soft material in the tight clutch of her knuckles. 

“Need me to fill you up?” he asks, though he knows the answer is an obvious and resounding yes. They haven’t had actual sex in at least a month, not with Clementine occupying 99% of their time. Even if he’s attempting to play it cool, his cock is hard and throbbing beneath layers of his clothing. He swears he can even feel the warmth of her pussy through her own clothes and it’s taking everything in him not to thrust up and grind against her. 

“Yes,” Y/N pants, shaky fingers digging beneath the waistband of his trousers to pull his length out, “S-stop playing around. You know it’s been too long.”

Harry laughs lowly and lifts his hips up to grant her enough space so she can retrieve his cock. She doesn’t even bother pushing his pants or briefs down, swallowing tightly at the sight of the ruddy tip already leaking with pre-cum. 

“Relax, baby,” he mumbles, grabbing one of her trembling hands and intertwining their fingers together, “Breathe, yeah? I’ll take care of my girl.”

Her pussy clenches at that — my girl — and she nibbles on her bottom lip eagerly when he pushes her soft shorts to the side to reveal her pussy. He wishes he had more willpower to look at what he’s been missing out on and his throat bobs when his eyes flicker down to the puffy clit tucked between her lips. He thinks they’ll both explode if he doesn’t get inside of her in the next two seconds, so he gives his cock a pump before he positions himself beneath her and slowly pushes in. 

Immediately, she whimpers out and he stalls, his free hand pressing rigidly into the skin of her thigh. 

“Y’alright?” 

“Yeah,” she whispers, “Tight fit.”

“I know.” he mutters, glancing up at her to read her expression. “Do you need me to pull out?”

She instantly shakes her head, “No, no. Keep going.”

Harry leans up to seal their lips in a messy, wet kiss as he continues pushing in as slowly as he can. He supposes he should’ve spent more time stretching her out, but if there’s one thing he’s learned about Y/N over the past year, it’s that she’s always eager and ever determined to take him, even if it’s been weeks since their last time together.

When he’s finally all the way in, his balls snug against her bum, their kiss slows, though it doesn’t seem like Y/N has any plans to separate their mouths. He doesn’t move a muscle, even if he knows his cock is throbbing from the tightness of her pussy. And then, after what seems like an eternity, she nods.

Slowly, he begins to fuck up inside of her and breathy moans depart from her swollen lips. Harry’s mouth catches each one, punctuating every whimper with a gentle peck. 

“There you go, mama, take my cock. You’re doing so good, aren’t you?”

She only responds with a lilting whimper and he moans, feeling the way her pussy clenches around his length. It’s not the dirtiest sex they’ve had — not by a long shot — but god, if it doesn’t feel incredible knowing that they’re completely devoted to one another.

“You make me feel so good,” she mewls, making his eyes nearly roll back, “I love your cock— ‘s so good, Harry, want— want you to give me another baby.”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, squeezing her hips hard, “Can’t just fucking say that stuff, baby. I’ll bust before you even cum.”

“D-don’t care,” she shudders, but he can tell she’s reaching her peak by the way her thighs begin to tremble, each of her muscles tightening. “Cum inside me, m-make me a mommy again.”

His chest vibrates with a deep groan and he reaches between them to pinch at her pearly clit, rubbing it in quick, tight circles. He’s seconds away from bursting himself, but he refuses to finish before she has a chance to. 

It barely takes a few loops around the bundle of nerves before she’s shaking in his lap, her pussy tensing around his length as she moans out his name over and over again. It’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard and he presses his forehead against her sweaty shoulder, shuddering as her orgasm triggers his own. As requested, he pumps his cock deep inside of her as he comes, pushing his seed as far as it’ll go. She whimpers from the sensation as pants fall from her lips, shivering every time he thrusts another rope of cum into her.

They’re both shaking by the time both of their orgasms taper off. Harry wraps his arms around her sweaty form, pulling her chest against his. 

“You’re mine, yeah?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “You and Clem. We’re a family.”

Y/N nods, echoing his words. “Yours.”

They settle into a comfortable silence; Harry’s softening cock still inside. He’s unsure of how how long they stay there, but he does know that they’ll have to move eventually so he can clean her up. It’s only then that she sits up to look at him, her eyes soft and tired. 

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” 

“Will you get me Plan B tomorrow?” she asks, biting her lip. “I think Clem is… more than enough for me right now.”

He laughs and nods his head. 

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’ll pick some up for you tomorrow.”

#harry styles fic rec

[watermelonlovershigh]

y/n gives harry a cheeky blowjob on their hike.

warnings: dirty talk, somewhat public indecency, blowjob, swearing

a/n: inspired by the new pic of harry in japan hehe this was written super fast and not proof read so i apologise for any mistakes! <3

//

It was Harry's idea to go for a hike. Something about soaking up the sun and burning off breakfast like he hadn't already fucked Y/N at sunrise this morning.

She didn't complain, though. She was more than happy to admire the view and spend some quality time outdoors. And she was thankful Harry chose an easy route for them to follow, given Y/N didn't really tend to hike all that much.

He's sporting a pair of black shorts and a blue hoodie with Y/N's backpack on -- had insisted that she'd get too tired too quickly if she carried it, and Y/N didn't argue.

Walking a little ahead of him, she allows Harry the view of her backside. Peachy bum moving in her tight gym leggings. He's been hiding a boner for the last ten minutes, struggling to will it away with every step she takes.

"Have I told you how nice your bum looks in those leggings?" he calls out to her.

Y/N looks back at him over her shoulder, offering a cheeky grin. "Once or twice, yeah." She looks down at the noticeable bulge in her pants.

"Causing you a bit of a problem, are they?"

A blush is quick to make its way on Harry's cheeks as she turns to him and walks closer. Y/N fiddles with his ringless fingers, a glint of mischief in her eyes -- a look that Harry is all too familiar with.

He cocks a brow. "Are you serious?"

Y/N shrugs her shoulders. "Why not? We're alone... in a wooded area... with trees to hide behind..."

She doesn't give him much more time to think before gently tugging him off the path and toward a more wild, wooded area. The sticks snap under their feet, overgrown grass and weeds tickling at their legs until she finds clearer ground beneath a tree.

Harry leans against it, eyes curious as she sinks to her knees. If he wasn't hard before, he most certainly is now; gazing down at her, looking all pretty and doe-eyed.

Y/N tugs his shorts and boxers down mid-thigh, Harry's cock slapping free against his lower tummy. The sight has her stomach fluttering. He's achingly hard and red and plump.

She doesn't waste much time, taking him into her hand and swirling her wet tongue around his ruddy tip. Harry's head falls back against the tree trunk, lips parted as a relieved sigh falls from them.

"You're unreal," he tells her, breathless.

Y/N grins up at him, closing her eyes to savour his taste. Wrapping her lips around him, she gently begins to suck -- her tongue flat against the underside of his cock.

Harry's hands find her hair, balling a fist around her ponytail to guide her movements to his desired pace. She lets him. Relaxes her jaw and allows him to take control.

Y/N fists whatever doesn't fit, and as Harry begins to bob her head faster, spit drools down her chin and the corners of her mouth. Her eyes are squeezed shut, nose slightly scrunched as he fucks his length down her throat.

The noises are drowned out by nature; the birds singing and the wind whistling. But they can hear it -- and they hear it loud.

"Jesus Christ, baby. Letting me fuck your throat in the middle of the woods. My dirty girl."

Y/N moans around him, the sound sending vibrations from his tip to his balls as he grunts her name. She can feel that familiar wetness pool between her thighs, can taste the saltiness of his sweat and pre-come as he nears closer to his release.

Harry's pace grows a bit more frantic, desperately chasing his high. Y/N continues to fist the base of his shaft, closing her mouth around him now to suck him for all he's got.

His breathing is erratic, wheezing filthy praises that only make her suck him harder. She feels him twitch on the tip of her tongue and releases her hold on his cock so her hands can brace herself on his thighs.

"Fuck!"

His body trembles as hot spurts of arousal shoot down Y/N's throat. Harry's hold on her hair falters as he attempts to catch his breath, her lips still locked around him as she sucks whatever is left.

Pulling off him with a pop, she swallows his come with a smile and wipes the lower half of her face with the backs of her hands. Y/N stands back on her feet, tucking Harry's cock back in his shorts and boxers and patting him on the chest.

She walks past him, leaving him a panting mess like she didn't just suck the soul out of him less than thirty seconds ago. He turns to follow her, legs a little jelly when she looks over her shoulder at him again with that same wicked grin.

"Come on, H. We've still got another mile and a half to go."

#harry styles fic rec

[watermelonlovershigh]

Driving

Summary: Harry takes you to the driving range and it’s basically foreplay

Word count: 2.6k

Content: smut, golf

MASTERLIST

(I can’t believe I’m posting WRITING again what a joy. Anyway I hope you like <3 I know there’s been a million golfrry fics recently for OBVIOUS REASONS but I wanted to add to it lol)

“Spread.”

“What?”

“Spread your legs.”

Heat flushed up your neck and into your cheeks as you shuffled your feet apart, keeping your eyes down at the golf ball. Harry’s voice behind you sounded satisfied. “Better. Position is everything.”

He touched the back of your hands with his, gently, but with assertion, rearranging your grip on the club. “Use the grip support to help you. You’ll feel it when you’ve slotted them in the correct place. And relax your shoulders. You're so tense you could snap the club.”

“I’m trying. There’s so much to remember,” you huffed, forcing your muscles to ease up and adjusting your grip under his guidance. His breath was hot on your neck when he laughed at your attitude. With one last squeeze to the back of your neck, he retreated to let you take the shot.

You shuffled your feet again, tried to ignore the heaviness of his gaze while you eyed the ball and took the swing. You knew it was bad before you even connected the club with the ball, the disappointing thump and the short flight of the ball across the green confirmed your expectations.

“Fuck,” you hissed, followed by Harry’s chuckle.

“No worries, doll. Practice swing. Here, let me help.”

You knew what he was doing, the way his palms slid from your shoulders, down your arms and cupped your wrists possessively. He guided your arms upwards in a swing and spoke low into your ear. “You need more control. Like this. Take your time at first. Get your position and grip perfect before you really go for it.”

You swallowed hard and nodded weakly in response. His hips were pushing close to your body. You could feel his chest expanding against your back. He let go of your wrists and one hand tangled into your hair, softly pushing your head down. “And keep your eye on the ball. Don’t look up until you’ve followed through.”

When you connected with the ball next, the click was satisfying and the ball soared further than before, delighting you to the point of bouncing in spot and twisting to look at Harry, eager for his approval.

“Nothing wrong with that, doll.” He was smiling that sweet smile he was so good at, dimples winking in admiration, though you’d only hit the ball a fraction of the distance he managed on the worst of his shots. He was in a short black tee and his muscles flexed while he clapped gently for your (minor) achievement.

Harry let you take several more shots, insisting you kept going even when you tried to pass back over to him. You didn’t miss his eyes on the curve of your body, your ass where the leggings hugged or your neck when you got hot and tied your hair up out of the way.

“Harry,” you whined, after several dud swings in a row. “I need help.”

“You know,” he hummed deeply into your ear, sliding his hands down your arms again. “If you want to get really good we can get you some lessons. My coach is -”

“I don’t want another teacher,” you interrupted sharply, causing Harry to crackle with laughter and plant a wet kiss on your cheek. “Bend a little for me, sweet thing.”

The gentle angle of your knees pushed your hips back subtly, and the position had so many delicious connotations your stomach swooped, but you shoved them aside to follow Harry’s lead as he took you through a few more practice swings before stepping away again.

Your back was cold without him pressed along it.

You channelled the sexual frustration into your hardest swing yet and you knew it was good one as soon as the satisfying click rang out.

Harry whooped dramatically, clapping his hands together loudly and grinning wide while he chewed on a piece of gum. You glared at him, embarrassed by the attention he was drawing to you both. With a huff you walked over to him, holding the club aloft for him to take over. Harry scooped you in his arms and blew a wet raspberry onto your neck, eliciting a squeak from you and even more embarrassment as you wiggled and pushed him away.

The real fun began when you all but forced Harry to get his practice in. You practically salivated watching him do anything he was good at, which, frustratingly, was almost everything he tried.

There should maybe be something inherently uncool and unsexy about golf, but Harry made it both those things. He was dedicated and focused. Everything about him turned you on from the strong angles of his back to the furrowed crease of concentration between his brows disappearing behind dark sunglasses. You sat on the bench watching him and shifted, feeling the swell of arousal in your belly and blood while he hit shots that cracked through the driving range with astonishing power. The feel of his hand pushing your head downwards still tingled on your scalp.

After he’d smashed his way through the two hundred balls he’d started with, he turned and gave you an inquiring look, head tilted with the club held up.

“Actually,” you started. “I think I’m ready to go.”

“Yeah?” His smirk was knowing, cocky. “All golfed out, baby doll?”

“Grab your clubs. I’ll wait in the car.” You snatched his keys from the bench and left, taking your time so he could watch you go. The truth was, he’d driven you cuckoo. The tactical touching, the showing off, the tight shirt and fitted golf trousers. You thought at least a moment of reprieve in the car would do you good.

In the safety of Harry’s Audi, you put the AC on and the radio to low.

The thing is, once Harry's wound you up (intentionally or otherwise) it’s hard to unwind again, and your mind was roaming rampant on thoughts of clenched hands and tensed muscles and strong swings. You closed your eyes and it only emphasised the feelings pulsing through you. By the time Harry popped the boot to toss his golf bag in the back, you could feel the results of your arousal gathering between your legs and knew it would be swirling in your irises too. A neon sign to Harry of exactly the spell he put you under. Great.

Harry slipped into the driver's seat and though he still wore his sunglasses you could tell he was tracking his eyes over you. “Hmm. Time to go home, I think,” he said, shifting into drive and reversing out of the spot.

But the drive home was too long, and he’d wound you up something terrible. Harry had a nasty, evil habit of holding your thigh when he drove, thanks to his dumb automatic fancy car. You clutched at his wrist, like he had yours earlier on, and dragged his palm further and further up, until you could angle him to cup your centre and cause a sigh of breathy relief out of you.

He barely reacted, just a tug of his lips to acknowledge your neediness, and the subtle press of his palm against you. You nudged your hips forward to meet his touch. Desperate.

“What’s got you all pent up, sweetheart?”

You squirmed and he pressed his hand firmer against your cunt in response. “Fucking-” you made a noise of frustration. “You. You’ve got me all pent up. Fucking, touching me and being good at golf and all that nonsense.”

The laugh that escaped Harry was one of genuine mirth and surprise, sweet and innocent in juxtaposition to his fingers rubbing against the humid space between your legs. “Really? Me playing golf gets you horny?”

“Harry,” you admonished. “Not just that.” You melted into the moment, as his fingers fell into a delicious rhythm where you wanted it most.

“What else, baby doll?” His voice was a deep and gravelly country road, and you rode it blissfully. Harry never turned away from the windscreen for a second.

“It was…” you drew in a shaky breath. “You helping me. You touching me.”

“That’s all?” Harry hummed thoughtfully, cupping his hand over your mound before withdrawing it back to his own lap. Your whine was entirely involuntary. “I like helping you too, baby. You know that, right?” You nodded and he flicked his head towards you before turning back to the road. “Good. I’ll help you soon. Promise. Let me just get us home.”

Harry had kept every promise he’d ever made to you, but that didn’t stop you being impatient and petulant. Unabashedly, you replaced the position of his hand between your thighs with your own, petting over the dampening fabric and the apex of your thighs where your clit throbbed. Your knee knocked against the car door when you squirmed and, per his earlier instruction, spread your legs.

“You can’t wait till we get home, dolly?” Harry hummed, lips ticking up in amusement.

“No. Harry.”

“Who now?”

You swallowed and your eyelids fluttered, overcome by the rumble of the car beneath you and your fingertips circling your sensitivity. “Daddy.”

“That’s a good little doll. You can touch, if you like, but you’re going to wait for me to make you come, is that right?”

“Yes,” you breathed your answer, but really, Harry was better than you at making you come anyway. It wasn’t much of a sacrifice to wait. Though the drive home seemed to drag tortmentuously, the friction you could give yourself doing little to curb the neediness throbbing through your bloodstream. Harry seemed frustratingly calm, but a delighted quirk to his eyebrow gave his true feelings away.

The agonising journey ground to a halt in Harry’s expansive driveway, him shifting into park with the engine still running and immediately twisting to face you, a hand tangling into your hair. Your body went lax, the ministrations of your fingers pausing to a halt and your thighs squeezing around your hand. You lolled your head back against the headrest, into his grip, and gazed at him.

“Oh, pretty, pretty thing. What’s got you so wound up? Hm? Speak to daddy?” He still wore his sunglasses, and you could see the faint reflection of yourself in them, could see yourself how he saw you, a flustered, keening mess in his passenger seat, twisting at the graze of his palm on your legging-covered thigh.

“I need you to make me come so bad, daddy.”

“Alright. Well, you better keep touching yourself then.”

You felt the disappointment sag your body further down into the seat, your bottom lip popping out in a pout. “But you said-”

“Yeah. I know what I said.” He tugged at your hair, enough to pull you up a little straighter but not to hurt hurt. “I said I’d make you come. Didn’t say how I’d do it.”

“It doesn’t feel as good without you,” you whined, entwining your fingers with his on your thigh, tempting him closer to your heat.

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” He teased, not unkindly, letting you drag his hand between your legs but not doing anything with it. “Thought I was a good teacher, hm, doll? Don’t you think I’m a good teacher?”

“You’re the best,” you admitted, so eager to please him you didn’t realise what you were agreeing to.

“That’s right. I’m the best.” He said it like a universal truth. “And I’m going to tell you exactly what to do and make you feel good.”

He was already making you feel sinfully good, cocooned in his car in the late afternoon, both soothed and wired by his voice.

“Rub your clit nice and slow for me. That’s it, doll. Just like that. Feel it zipping through you? All that pleasure? That’s how I felt when your bum pushed into my dick earlier on. Have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

He scratched his nails over your scalp and you moaned, the satisfaction of his hand in your hair oozing down your spine and the arousal buzzing throughout your lower body and spreading further out.

“Feel how wet you are now, baby. Yeah. Like that. How wet are you for me? Just from playing a bit of golf with your boyfriend? Let me see.” You moved your hand as Harry released your hair, pushing your thighs apart further. He tucked his sunglasses up and let his unobstructed gaze fall on the damp patch of material.

“Oh,” you gasped, when he leaned down and pressed his nose against you, breathing in and licking once, twice over your pussy, and even through your leggings you felt the hot humidity of his tongue.

Devastatingly, he sat back, smirking, “Sweetest little doll.” He grabbed your hand to push it back against your mound, using his own to help grind against your clit with more pressure than before. You gripped his shoulder with your spare hand, using the leverage to ride your hips against yours and his hands, teeth digging into your bottom lip and Harry’s eyes boring into yours.

“Come on, come for me. Be good for me. Show me how well I teach you to come. No one does it better, right doll? Tell me no one’s better.”

“No one’s better. You’re the best, Harry. Daddy. The best to me.”

He made a noise, the first one to indicate any loss of control, a groan of satisfaction, before diving towards your neck and sucking at the skin. He was all but making out with your neck, hand over yours taking the lead and ushering you closer and closer to the edge.

When you came you went impossibly hot, Harry’s breath on your jaw, the throb of ecstasy burning you from the inside out, your thighs clamped around two joined hands.

“That’s my girl,” Harry was saying to you, though it was tinny through blood pulsing in your ears, your hips still undulating under the pressure he applied to your clit. When you sagged down to the seat again, he released your hand and cupped your face, placing sweet kisses over your lips and cheekbones. You were puffing breaths hotly over his face, which only made him giggle. “You wanna go driving again tomorrow?”

You rolled your eyes and laughed. “I can’t believe I’m saying this about golf, but you need a more unsexy hobby.”

“Sure thing, Dolly. What would you rather me do? Pottery?”

You pulled a face. “You just named arguably the hottest hobby there is. Maybe try bowls or something.”

Harry smiled and patted your thigh, encouraging you out of the car and into the shower (together). It was much later when you were both lazing together on the sofa, that Harry pursed his lips in interest at his phone. You narrowed your eyes at him. “What?”

He smirked. “I’m just looking into bowling clubs.”

“And?”

“Nothing. I just think it could be fun.” He turned back to his phone, and you waited patiently, seeing the comment bubbling from him before he continued. “The whole thing is to roll your ball closest to the smaller ball, which is known as the kitty. So, you know, reckon I’d be quite good at it. I always get pretty close to your kitty.”

You let him giggle his way to the end of the sentence before sighing and asking him to please stick to golf.

“You gonna come with me again sometime?”

“Maybe,” you agreed. “But you’ve got to teach me again. Properly.”

“My pleasure.”

You didn’t doubt it was.

-

Let me know your thoughts. We want Harry to teach her some more??? Maybe work on her grip? Haha. I hope you enjoyed lovelies!

#this was too good #hatrry styles fic rec

[watermelonlovershigh]

i seen a trend online where the girl pretends to have a tampon stuck in her and asks her boyfriend if he's get it out. do you think you could write something like that with harry in it?

-🌼

TikTok Prank on Harry /blurb/

AN: i think that trend is very telling on what kind of partner these women have lol. love that trend but some of them i feel are staged. anyways i hope you enjoyed this and make sure to leave your feedback.

This story contains: mentions of a stuck tampon, mentions of blood, fluff, inuidos of sex at the end

{ husband!harry - softrry - no kids - current harry era }

word count: 662

You decide to do the viral tiktok trend on Harry where you tell him you got your tampon stuck and need his help removing it to see his reaction.

"Harry," you call from the bathroom, "can you come here for a second?" You'd seen this trend on TikTok where these women were pranking their boyfriends or husbands into thinking they got a tampon stuck inside of them to see if their partner would help them retrieve it or not. So of course you had to try this prank out on your husband.

A minute later the bathroom door creaks open and Harry asks, "Yeah?" once he steps fully inside. His view is of you wrapped in a towel, sitting on the closed toilet seat because you were about to take a shower. He thinks you look beautiful right now, but you'd be even more beautiful without that white fluffy towel you have wrapped around your torso.

Looking up innocently at your sweet, sweet husband, you fib, "So um, I kinda have a problem. You see, before my shower I was gonna remove my old tampon but I can't find it."

Harry looks at you with a confused expression. "What'd you mean you can't find it?"

Dragging the lie on, you continue, "The string, Harry. I went to pull it out but the string is gone. It must have went up too far inside me or something."

Now looking concerned, Harry starts, "So...." He's still slightly confused as to what you're needing him to do about your situation.

Huffing out of fake annoyance, you finally ask, "Can you help me? Like see if you can pull it out?" You're not gonna lie, you are kind of scared to know his reaction. He could be one of the sweet and generous partners you see in those videos where he's fully up for helping. Or he could be one of those partners who is disgusted by the idea of helping with that problem.

Without second thoughts, Harry steps closer to you and says, "Oh yeah, of course. Just gonna need you to tell me how far I need to reach my fingers up there." Okay, its confirmed. You did marry the perfect man. He begins to kneel in front of you and pulls his right sleeve up because he really thinks he's needing to help fish out your bloody tampon.

"Baby, baby, baby." you repeat over and over again, looking down with love in your eyes. You've got to stop the lie before it goes too far.

"What? M'gonna help you but you're gonna need to drop the towel and spread your legs." Though it sounds dirty out of context, you know Harry meant that with pure and innocent intent.

You reach forward and place your hands on his shoulders. "Baby, I was kidding. It was a prank. I don't actually have a tampon stuck inside me. I just wanted to tell you that to see if you'd actually help me if I really did have one stuck or not."

Relief washes over Harry's features because though he'd help you in a flash, he also wasn't excited about having to pull out your lost, bloody tampon. "Well of course I would've helped, love. How else would you've gotten it out, besides a trip to the doctors. I'd do anything for you."

You lean over and press a kiss to his lips which accidently makes your towel fall off your body. Harry grabs your hips to stabilize his squatting position and once the kiss turns into something more heated, you pull away and request, "Come get in the shower with me. I'm not actually on my period either."

Without much thinking, Harry quickly stands up and starts to shed his clothes off. He's never gonna pass up the offer of showering with his wife. "My love, I would have gotten in the shower with you even if you were on your period, you know." And when he's fully naked, you stand up from the toilet seat and walk hand in hand into the walk-in shower where your heated kisses continue and much, much more begins.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @itfeelslikemytherapisthatesme // @damnasstyles  // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet  // @meetmyblondemuffins  // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles  // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles  // @skyangel57   // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss  // @kissmyaxe140  // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily  // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom  // @swiftmendeshoran

 // @luv-flor7777  // @alohastyles-x // @tenaciousperfectionunknown  // @sleutherclaw // @siredtohybrid // @whoscamila // @a-strange-familiar  // @golden-elodie // @mrspeacem1nusone //  @goldenkhae // @lntwithhrry  // @shadowygladiatorlight  // @manifestrry  //@mendesblurb // @sunshinemoonsposts  // @depersonalizationsucks // @academiaghost // @zendayassimp // @reveriehs // @vsnnstuff // @dancinsunflowerkiwi // @quinnsgrapejuice // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @justlemmeholdyou // @hsonlyangelxo // @luvonstyles // @howdey

______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

#harry styles fic rec

[watermelonlovershigh]

You know some days i think i'm only bisexual for Harry Styles and Niall Horan. The way most men act these days makes me wanna gag. 🤢

#why am i like this #bisexual

[watermelonlovershigh]

HARRY STYLES | Reflecting on his 4 BRIT Award wins

#harry styles

[watermelonlovershigh]

Harry Styles | Don't Worry Darling (2022)

[watermelonlovershigh]

that's my boy

[watermelonlovershigh]

Sydney (3/3) | Late Night Talking

#harry styles

[watermelonlovershigh]

thank you so much. love your feedback. 💞

i seen a trend online where the girl pretends to have a tampon stuck in her and asks her boyfriend if he's get it out. do you think you could write something like that with harry in it?

-🌼

TikTok Prank on Harry /blurb/

AN: i think that trend is very telling on what kind of partner these women have lol. love that trend but some of them i feel are staged. anyways i hope you enjoyed this and make sure to leave your feedback.

This story contains: mentions of a stuck tampon, mentions of blood, fluff, inuidos of sex at the end

{ husband!harry - softrry - no kids - current harry era }

word count: 662

You decide to do the viral tiktok trend on Harry where you tell him you got your tampon stuck and need his help removing it to see his reaction.

"Harry," you call from the bathroom, "can you come here for a second?" You'd seen this trend on TikTok where these women were pranking their boyfriends or husbands into thinking they got a tampon stuck inside of them to see if their partner would help them retrieve it or not. So of course you had to try this prank out on your husband.

A minute later the bathroom door creaks open and Harry asks, "Yeah?" once he steps fully inside. His view is of you wrapped in a towel, sitting on the closed toilet seat because you were about to take a shower. He thinks you look beautiful right now, but you'd be even more beautiful without that white fluffy towel you have wrapped around your torso.

Looking up innocently at your sweet, sweet husband, you fib, "So um, I kinda have a problem. You see, before my shower I was gonna remove my old tampon but I can't find it."

Harry looks at you with a confused expression. "What'd you mean you can't find it?"

Dragging the lie on, you continue, "The string, Harry. I went to pull it out but the string is gone. It must have went up too far inside me or something."

Now looking concerned, Harry starts, "So...." He's still slightly confused as to what you're needing him to do about your situation.

Huffing out of fake annoyance, you finally ask, "Can you help me? Like see if you can pull it out?" You're not gonna lie, you are kind of scared to know his reaction. He could be one of the sweet and generous partners you see in those videos where he's fully up for helping. Or he could be one of those partners who is disgusted by the idea of helping with that problem.

Without second thoughts, Harry steps closer to you and says, "Oh yeah, of course. Just gonna need you to tell me how far I need to reach my fingers up there." Okay, its confirmed. You did marry the perfect man. He begins to kneel in front of you and pulls his right sleeve up because he really thinks he's needing to help fish out your bloody tampon.

"Baby, baby, baby." you repeat over and over again, looking down with love in your eyes. You've got to stop the lie before it goes too far.

"What? M'gonna help you but you're gonna need to drop the towel and spread your legs." Though it sounds dirty out of context, you know Harry meant that with pure and innocent intent.

You reach forward and place your hands on his shoulders. "Baby, I was kidding. It was a prank. I don't actually have a tampon stuck inside me. I just wanted to tell you that to see if you'd actually help me if I really did have one stuck or not."

Relief washes over Harry's features because though he'd help you in a flash, he also wasn't excited about having to pull out your lost, bloody tampon. "Well of course I would've helped, love. How else would you've gotten it out, besides a trip to the doctors. I'd do anything for you."

You lean over and press a kiss to his lips which accidently makes your towel fall off your body. Harry grabs your hips to stabilize his squatting position and once the kiss turns into something more heated, you pull away and request, "Come get in the shower with me. I'm not actually on my period either."

Without much thinking, Harry quickly stands up and starts to shed his clothes off. He's never gonna pass up the offer of showering with his wife. "My love, I would have gotten in the shower with you even if you were on your period, you know." And when he's fully naked, you stand up from the toilet seat and walk hand in hand into the walk-in shower where your heated kisses continue and much, much more begins.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @itfeelslikemytherapisthatesme // @damnasstyles  // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet  // @meetmyblondemuffins  // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles  // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles  // @skyangel57   // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss  // @kissmyaxe140  // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily  // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom  // @swiftmendeshoran

 // @luv-flor7777  // @alohastyles-x // @tenaciousperfectionunknown  // @sleutherclaw // @siredtohybrid // @whoscamila // @a-strange-familiar  // @golden-elodie // @mrspeacem1nusone //  @goldenkhae // @lntwithhrry  // @shadowygladiatorlight  // @manifestrry  //@mendesblurb // @sunshinemoonsposts  // @depersonalizationsucks // @academiaghost // @zendayassimp // @reveriehs // @vsnnstuff // @dancinsunflowerkiwi // @quinnsgrapejuice // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @justlemmeholdyou // @hsonlyangelxo // @luvonstyles // @howdey

______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

#feedback

[watermelonlovershigh]

i seen a trend online where the girl pretends to have a tampon stuck in her and asks her boyfriend if he's get it out. do you think you could write something like that with harry in it?

-🌼

TikTok Prank on Harry /blurb/

AN: i think that trend is very telling on what kind of partner these women have lol. love that trend but some of them i feel are staged. anyways i hope you enjoyed this and make sure to leave your feedback.

This story contains: mentions of a stuck tampon, mentions of blood, fluff, inuidos of sex at the end

{ husband!harry - softrry - no kids - current harry era }

word count: 662

You decide to do the viral tiktok trend on Harry where you tell him you got your tampon stuck and need his help removing it to see his reaction.

"Harry," you call from the bathroom, "can you come here for a second?" You'd seen this trend on TikTok where these women were pranking their boyfriends or husbands into thinking they got a tampon stuck inside of them to see if their partner would help them retrieve it or not. So of course you had to try this prank out on your husband.

A minute later the bathroom door creaks open and Harry asks, "Yeah?" once he steps fully inside. His view is of you wrapped in a towel, sitting on the closed toilet seat because you were about to take a shower. He thinks you look beautiful right now, but you'd be even more beautiful without that white fluffy towel you have wrapped around your torso.

Looking up innocently at your sweet, sweet husband, you fib, "So um, I kinda have a problem. You see, before my shower I was gonna remove my old tampon but I can't find it."

Harry looks at you with a confused expression. "What'd you mean you can't find it?"

Dragging the lie on, you continue, "The string, Harry. I went to pull it out but the string is gone. It must have went up too far inside me or something."

Now looking concerned, Harry starts, "So...." He's still slightly confused as to what you're needing him to do about your situation.

Huffing out of fake annoyance, you finally ask, "Can you help me? Like see if you can pull it out?" You're not gonna lie, you are kind of scared to know his reaction. He could be one of the sweet and generous partners you see in those videos where he's fully up for helping. Or he could be one of those partners who is disgusted by the idea of helping with that problem.

Without second thoughts, Harry steps closer to you and says, "Oh yeah, of course. Just gonna need you to tell me how far I need to reach my fingers up there." Okay, its confirmed. You did marry the perfect man. He begins to kneel in front of you and pulls his right sleeve up because he really thinks he's needing to help fish out your bloody tampon.

"Baby, baby, baby." you repeat over and over again, looking down with love in your eyes. You've got to stop the lie before it goes too far.

"What? M'gonna help you but you're gonna need to drop the towel and spread your legs." Though it sounds dirty out of context, you know Harry meant that with pure and innocent intent.

You reach forward and place your hands on his shoulders. "Baby, I was kidding. It was a prank. I don't actually have a tampon stuck inside me. I just wanted to tell you that to see if you'd actually help me if I really did have one stuck or not."

Relief washes over Harry's features because though he'd help you in a flash, he also wasn't excited about having to pull out your lost, bloody tampon. "Well of course I would've helped, love. How else would you've gotten it out, besides a trip to the doctors. I'd do anything for you."

You lean over and press a kiss to his lips which accidently makes your towel fall off your body. Harry grabs your hips to stabilize his squatting position and once the kiss turns into something more heated, you pull away and request, "Come get in the shower with me. I'm not actually on my period either."

Without much thinking, Harry quickly stands up and starts to shed his clothes off. He's never gonna pass up the offer of showering with his wife. "My love, I would have gotten in the shower with you even if you were on your period, you know." And when he's fully naked, you stand up from the toilet seat and walk hand in hand into the walk-in shower where your heated kisses continue and much, much more begins.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @itfeelslikemytherapisthatesme // @damnasstyles  // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet  // @meetmyblondemuffins  // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles  // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles  // @skyangel57   // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss  // @kissmyaxe140  // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily  // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom  // @swiftmendeshoran

 // @luv-flor7777  // @alohastyles-x // @tenaciousperfectionunknown  // @sleutherclaw // @siredtohybrid // @whoscamila // @a-strange-familiar  // @golden-elodie // @mrspeacem1nusone //  @goldenkhae // @lntwithhrry  // @shadowygladiatorlight  // @manifestrry  //@mendesblurb // @sunshinemoonsposts  // @depersonalizationsucks // @academiaghost // @zendayassimp // @reveriehs // @vsnnstuff // @dancinsunflowerkiwi // @quinnsgrapejuice // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @justlemmeholdyou // @hsonlyangelxo // @luvonstyles // @howdey

______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

[watermelonlovershigh]

i seen a trend online where the girl pretends to have a tampon stuck in her and asks her boyfriend if he's get it out. do you think you could write something like that with harry in it?

-🌼

TikTok Prank on Harry /blurb/

AN: i think that trend is very telling on what kind of partner these women have lol. love that trend but some of them i feel are staged. anyways i hope you enjoyed this and make sure to leave your feedback.

This story contains: mentions of a stuck tampon, mentions of blood, fluff, inuidos of sex at the end

{ husband!harry - softrry - no kids - current harry era }

word count: 662

You decide to do the viral tiktok trend on Harry where you tell him you got your tampon stuck and need his help removing it to see his reaction.

"Harry," you call from the bathroom, "can you come here for a second?" You'd seen this trend on TikTok where these women were pranking their boyfriends or husbands into thinking they got a tampon stuck inside of them to see if their partner would help them retrieve it or not. So of course you had to try this prank out on your husband.

A minute later the bathroom door creaks open and Harry asks, "Yeah?" once he steps fully inside. His view is of you wrapped in a towel, sitting on the closed toilet seat because you were about to take a shower. He thinks you look beautiful right now, but you'd be even more beautiful without that white fluffy towel you have wrapped around your torso.

Looking up innocently at your sweet, sweet husband, you fib, "So um, I kinda have a problem. You see, before my shower I was gonna remove my old tampon but I can't find it."

Harry looks at you with a confused expression. "What'd you mean you can't find it?"

Dragging the lie on, you continue, "The string, Harry. I went to pull it out but the string is gone. It must have went up too far inside me or something."

Now looking concerned, Harry starts, "So...." He's still slightly confused as to what you're needing him to do about your situation.

Huffing out of fake annoyance, you finally ask, "Can you help me? Like see if you can pull it out?" You're not gonna lie, you are kind of scared to know his reaction. He could be one of the sweet and generous partners you see in those videos where he's fully up for helping. Or he could be one of those partners who is disgusted by the idea of helping with that problem.

Without second thoughts, Harry steps closer to you and says, "Oh yeah, of course. Just gonna need you to tell me how far I need to reach my fingers up there." Okay, its confirmed. You did marry the perfect man. He begins to kneel in front of you and pulls his right sleeve up because he really thinks he's needing to help fish out your bloody tampon.

"Baby, baby, baby." you repeat over and over again, looking down with love in your eyes. You've got to stop the lie before it goes too far.

"What? M'gonna help you but you're gonna need to drop the towel and spread your legs." Though it sounds dirty out of context, you know Harry meant that with pure and innocent intent.

You reach forward and place your hands on his shoulders. "Baby, I was kidding. It was a prank. I don't actually have a tampon stuck inside me. I just wanted to tell you that to see if you'd actually help me if I really did have one stuck or not."

Relief washes over Harry's features because though he'd help you in a flash, he also wasn't excited about having to pull out your lost, bloody tampon. "Well of course I would've helped, love. How else would you've gotten it out, besides a trip to the doctors. I'd do anything for you."

You lean over and press a kiss to his lips which accidently makes your towel fall off your body. Harry grabs your hips to stabilize his squatting position and once the kiss turns into something more heated, you pull away and request, "Come get in the shower with me. I'm not actually on my period either."

Without much thinking, Harry quickly stands up and starts to shed his clothes off. He's never gonna pass up the offer of showering with his wife. "My love, I would have gotten in the shower with you even if you were on your period, you know." And when he's fully naked, you stand up from the toilet seat and walk hand in hand into the walk-in shower where your heated kisses continue and much, much more begins.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @itfeelslikemytherapisthatesme // @damnasstyles  // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet  // @meetmyblondemuffins  // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles  // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles  // @skyangel57   // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss  // @kissmyaxe140  // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily  // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom  // @swiftmendeshoran

 // @luv-flor7777  // @alohastyles-x // @tenaciousperfectionunknown  // @sleutherclaw // @siredtohybrid // @whoscamila // @a-strange-familiar  // @golden-elodie // @mrspeacem1nusone //  @goldenkhae // @lntwithhrry  // @shadowygladiatorlight  // @manifestrry  //@mendesblurb // @sunshinemoonsposts  // @depersonalizationsucks // @academiaghost // @zendayassimp // @reveriehs // @vsnnstuff // @dancinsunflowerkiwi // @quinnsgrapejuice // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @justlemmeholdyou // @hsonlyangelxo // @luvonstyles // @howdey

______________

My Masterlist Masterpost