dont u call him baby

i write sometimes Masterlist requests are open !

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mmk so it’s been like two months and i kinda forgot this existed but i’m going through my asks tonight and we’ll see what i come up with lol i don’t have a lot of free time so 🤡🤡🤡 love you guys xxxx

[dont-cry2020]

4/ attached to him. Again, this is just my opinion, I don't mean to attack your work at all and in fact this is a theme I've seen across several blogs and I just wanted to get a writers opinion on it. I understand that there is some controversy about some of Camille's past actions but she is still a person relatively unknown to the public (as are all celebrities) so to manipulate her character into a negative light seems unfair. how do you feel about it though? I'd be interested to know :)tpwk x

babsbabbsnandx i just wrote a whole answer to this and then it got deleted so i’m just gonna summarize LMAO. so first, i totally agree with you and i really appreciate the constructive criticism (also i’ve been inactive for like two months so i’m sorry if this is late). if i’m being honest, the only real reason why i wrote camille in the story is because i couldn’t think of a name for that character and it’s always easier when people can already picture the person- so essentially i was just too lazy to create another person.. that’s my bad lmao. with celebrities i feel like it’s definitely unfair to write them as being bad people when we don’t know them personally and i’ll definitely not do that in the future, so thank you for speaking your opinion !!! love you, stay safe and healthy xxx

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I'm new here on Tumblr, so I don't know how to message you correctly. Your "Is it too early for another one?" (or something along those lines) one-shot can be found on Wattpad by another user. I'm going to try to find the book, but they didn't claim that the imagine came from Tumblr. Ignore this if it's you on Wattpad... :)

hi! that is my original story and i don’t use wattpad:/// if you guys could send me a link and i could check it out that would be appreciated!! thank you so much x

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wow hi so i’m still alive haha um online school has been kicking my ass and u have zero down time and zero motivation so

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daddy! Harry licking whipped cream off of you’re body and the reader doing the same thing to Harry

this is short and unedited but i’m exhausted ahhh i hope it’s what you imagined hehe xx

it had started out as an innocent little treat, the two lovers just enjoying some homemade ice cream sundaes in the kitchen, talking and laughing about the week they’ve had.

You were so enamored with Harry, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed and the sparkle that could light up even the darkest of places. He was utterly and solely Harry. Just Harry. And you loved him for that.

But like most people, Harry had more than one side to him. He was Harry, the beautiful, kind, sweet, loving boyfriend that you loved dearly. He was Harry Styles, the celebrity rockstar (whom you still loved dearly and was equally as kind and beautiful), and finally, he was also the sex crazed, horny, sexy Harry that was always down for anything anytime and anywhere.

So right now, as you stood in his kitchen laughing at him spraying whipped cream into his and then your mouth, it came as no surpise when he didn’t hesitate to lick the dollop that had fallen onto the cleavage coming out of your low cut top.

He sent you a wink, sensuously licking the white cream off his lips, secretly imagining it was something else...

“Fuck,” you sigh, laughing slightly before bringing his lips to yours by his neck. You melted into his arms for a moment, tasting the sweet sugar off his mouth.

“Mmm,” Harry lets a small, somehow cocky moan fal from his lips, licking them after pulling away.

“Taste s’ sweet,” he rasps, eyes a visibly darker shade of green.

You almost moan at his words, Harry’s rough accented dirty talk making your need for him even worse. You thought about when the last time he had fucked you against his kitchen counter, the cold marble against your chest as he bent you over the side.

Harry had other ideas, though. He wanted to taste you. And even though you were more than enough to calm his sweet tooth, he craved a little extra sugar.

“Wanna tas’ yeh,” he says, his big palms lifting you up by your thighs and placing your ass against the counter. You let your eyes flutter closed as he lays you back against the counter, ghosting his slender fingertips up and down your legs and tummy, pushing your top up just a bit. His fingers toy with the waistband of your shorts, needing some sort of consent to continue his lustful actions.

“Please, H,” you sigh, lifting yourself onto your forearms so you can watch him, the mischievous glint in his eyes catching your attention ever so slightly. He smirks, loving the way you beg for him, and slides your panties and shorts down your legs and over your feet, letting them fall to the floor.

You shut your eyes as Harry’s pointer finger grazes up your slit, feeling the hot stickiness that makes him melt.

“s’ wet fo’ me,” he says, pressing his lips to your mound, not breaking eye contact.

You’re so entranced by him that you don’t notice him grab the can of whipped topping, sliding his fingers into your hole and spraying some of the sugary delight onto his finger. Your jaw went slack as you watch him pop it into his mouth and suck slightly on it. He moans at the taste of your sweet liquid mixed with the white whipped sugar.

Gauging your reaction, he slides his hands down your thighs, spreading them further open with his palms and sliding his upper body between them. He spreads your pretty pussy lips open with one hand, and sprays whipped cream all over your dripping slit with the other. You gasp at the cold sensation, before Harry’s tongue attacks your cunt.

You can’t help the gasps and moans that leave your lips as Harry’s warm tongue contrasts with the cold creme; not only lapping you your wetness, but also the ice cream topping.

“Fuck, Harry, Fuck!” you moan, pushing your chest up Harry continues to eat you on the kitchen counter. He loved the taste on his lips and it makes his cock throb. You cum quickly, quicker than Harry expected, and Harry laos up the rest of the creme from you before lifting you off the counter.

“That was hot,” you say, sinking to your knees and grabbing the whipped cream from your boyfriends grip before he can protest. You tug his joggers down his thighs, his thick cock springing up against his abs and landing there with a loud slap.

Harry backs himself up against the counter, leaning his weight into it for support. You go to work on him, toying with his balls and he takes up your mouth. You were a pro at giving your boyfriend head, and you knew all the places to make him shiver. But you wanted to reciprocate the feeling that he gave you, so you spraying whipped cream all over his cock and balls, and even his lower tummy. Harry was a moaning mess as he watched you lick up his abs and down his happy trail of hair, before sucking his balls clean and licking up his shaft.

The dessert made him sticky, so you spit on his cock for a bit of lubricant as you pumped what couldn’t fit into your mouth. Harry was pulling at your hair and groaning as he came, shooting his load into your mouth.

“Tha’ was so hot,” he moans, grabbing the whipped cream from you and spraying a bit on your tits. He loved it.

[dont-cry2020]

hi loves!!

i feel like i should just say that i’m still alive and i am getting all your wonderful requests but i’m SO just mentally exhausted from online school so i promise i’ll work as fast as i can, but it might be a bit. i might finish a blurb tonight, but i’ll see what i can do. stay happy and healthy, treat people with kindness, and soup, sex, sun salutations xxxxx 😘

[dont-cry2020]

“You’re a Dumbass.”

Harry Styles x reader

This is based on this anon

“Okay since you asked for requests here it is: Write a super angst but ends with fluff story where Harry has a girlfriend and y/n is his friend but they aren't so close yet y/n is head over heels for him and one day he kept noticing her looking at him with dreamy eyes so he asks Mitch about it since he met her through him and he tells him that she was in love with him ("I thought you knew, man. Everyone does") You let your imagination finish this just make it as angst as possible dkfjdks”

Ok so side note there’s stuff in here about camille and what happened between harry and camille is really none of our business- this is just a story and i just used her as a character in the story line- please don’t harass anyone over this, let’s TPWK please haha thank you for coming to my ted talk

Here we go again. 

It was another Friday night at the Styles’ residence, hosting their all too famous ‘movie night’ with all their friends. 

Except you were one of the friends invited by Harry and his girlfriend (rather begrudgingly, she didn’t like you too much) to the house that they shared. 

You and Harry had been friends for a few years, meeting through Mitch when he first joined the band. You clicked pretty well, talking animatedly about some band that Mitch had never heard of before, completely leaving him to third wheel on the old studio couch. It was almost like it was meant to be, and you couldn’t deny the feelings you felt for the green-eyed rockstar. 

You didn't hang out too often, only really when he hosted big parties, but you were friends nonetheless. 

There were nights where you were kept up by the image of his smiling face in your head, and there were nights where you slept soundly and dreamed of his body hovering over yours. 

But you knew that would never happen. 

Harry was happy with his girlfriend, Camille, and you knew that you could never be selfish enough to break up the couple. And you also knew that Harry needed you by his side, strictly as a friend, so you threw on some sweats and drove to his house, mentally preparing yourself for the o-so-famous ‘movie night’, which usually ended in Harry and Camille’s makeout session being too loud and disgusting for you and the rest of your friends to handle. 

At least that’s their reasoning for leaving, for you couldn’t shake the wrenching of your heart over and over again at the affection that he gave her, and not you. 

You lifted your fist to knock on the white wooden door, suspending it in the air at the screaming coming from inside the house.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you heard shouts and the crashing of what sounded like plates breaking on the floor. Your heart races, trying the door knob to find that it’s unlocked, swinging open the door, praying that everyone was okay.

“Hey, sorry I’m early but I heard loud noises and I-” you stopped talking, taking in the sight of Harry and Camille standing across from each other in the kitchen, glass on the floor and a cut on Harry’s lip. 

they were fighting

“wanted to make sure you were okay,” you said under your breath, taking a step backward. “I’ll just...” you say, turning towards the door, trying to slow down your labored breathing.

“Wait y/n I-” you hear Harry start, followed by Camille shrieking and another crash of glass. She yells something at him in French, stomping out the front door and slamming it behind her, leaving you to stand dumbfounded in the foyer of his house. 

“Fuck!” Harry shouts, his voice cracking, small droplets of blood running down his chin. 

“Oh, Harry,” you say, jogging over to him, cupping his face in your hands. He flinches, slapping your hands away and banging his fist on the kitchen counter.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he yells, tears pooling in his eyes. 

“Harry, stop you’re gonna hurt yourself I-” He pushes you away, leaving you stumbling across the kitchen floor and hitting your hip against the counter. 

“Goddamnit,” you hiss, sucking in a breath at the pain. Harry’s eyes were wide with shock, realizing what he just did to his friend. 

“Wait, y/n, I-” He starts, staggering towards you. You hold your hand out to stop him, as if to say ‘you’ve already done enough’, turning on your heels and walking to the front door. You reach for the knob, flinching as it swings open, a tired looking Mitch holding a bottle of wine on the other side. 

“Y/n, where are you..?” he starts, closing his mouth as you run out the door, tears running down your cheeks. 

Mitch creeps into the house, brow furrowed as he looks for Harry. 

“Harry what the actual fuck happened?” he asks, taking in the sight of broken glass on the floor and Harry’s tear stained face with dried blood on the side of his lip. “And what the fuck did you do to y/n?”

“I-” Harry starts, tugging at his hair. He was sad about Camille, sure. She had essentially told him to go fuck himself after accusing him of cheating on her with another girl, (which, of course, he never did); but he was really mostly devastated about hurting y/n, his best friend in the whole entire world. 

Mitch leads him to the couch, handing Harry the bottle of wine; the green-eyed man gladly taking a long swig from the bottle.

“I fucked up,” he croaked, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and carefully setting the bottle down on the ground. “With Camille and y/n.”

Mitch watches Harry as he throws his head against the back of the couch, groaning. 

“What happened with Camille?” Mitch asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“I- she thought I cheated on her- and I told her I didn’t... because I DIDN’T” He pauses, taking another swig of wine. “And I- I told her tha’ if she couldn’t trust me we needed to break up... and...” He shuts his eyes for a moment, recalling the memory that happened mere minutes ago. 

“She started throwing things and screaming at me and y/n came in and she was about to leave... but I told her to stay... and Camille just stormed off, screaming at me in French so y/n couldn’t hear that she was calling her a whore and telling me to go fuck myself.”

Mitch opens his mouth, shutting it after a moment. 

“I see,” he says, the idea that Harry is no longer with Camille ringing in his ears. None of their friends ever really liked her all that much, especially y/n, but they all put up with her for Harry’s sake. 

“What happened with y/n?” he asks, still slightly nervous about the state you were in as you stormed out the door.

Harry swears under his breath, hitting the couch cushion with his bruised fist. 

“She was jus’ trying to help m’. But I- I pushed her away and she fell into the counter.” He stops for a moment, realizing that his friend could’ve been seriously hurt if he had even been the slightest bit rougher with her. 

“Jesus, Harry,” Mitch shakes his head, rubbing his temple and making a mental note to check on you when he leaves. “You’re a fucking dumbass.”

...

Mitch’s words resonate with Harry for the rest of the night: ‘you’re a fucking dumbass’ ringing through his ears as he sweeps the glass from the floor. His knuckles are bruised and the blood that once trickled off his lip was dried; pieces of a memory that he doesn’t ever want to relive. 

He hadn’t bothered to check his phone, knowing that there would be nothing new popping up on the screen. He slides into his bed, sliding the sheets over his head, regretting it not long after when the scent of his now ex-girlfriend fills his nose. He presses his face into his hands before slipping out of bed and stumbling down the hall to the guest bedroom where you sometimes spend the night. 

Harry was relieved to find that he hadn’t washed the sheets since you had last slept over last weekend. He slides under the sheets, pulling a pillow into his arms and burying his nose in the fabric. It smelled like your shampoo and all he wanted was to make things better with you, but he was forewarned by Mitch that you would need a bit of time to cool off. 

You, on the other hand, were sat in bed, one of Mitch’s hoodies draping over your body, a kind gesture from your friend, sure, but you couldn’t help but notice that it wasn’t nearly as soft or comfortable as those that you had borrowed from Harry. 

The feeling of having your heart broken by someone who never had it in the first place makes you hurt more, the dried tears on your face and the bruise on your hip a reminder of what happened not four hours ago. 

...

The weekend ended much too quickly for Harry’s liking; not leaving his bed and barely eating wasn’t treating him too well. It was now Tuesday, and Harry had to be at the studio at 10 to work on some new demos. he didn’t want to... He REALLY didn’t want to leave his bed and shower and put on a real outfit. But he knew that the worst thing would be letting his band down. 

So he forced himself to strip down, letting the water of the shower cascade down his muscles that needed to be stretched from not moving very much for two days. He put on a pair of jeans and a hoodie, not wanting to be too uncomfortable, grabbing his keys and phone and heading to the studio. 

Mitch had texted you the Monday night, asking if you wanted to come ‘round the studio the next day and bring lunch. He even went as far as to tell you that you didn’t have to see Harry if you didn’t want too; he would meet you at the door to avoid him. 

So Tuesday morning, you bought a few sandwiches for the band, figuring that you weren’t mad enough to starve Harry, buying him one too. You knew that he probably hadn’t eaten a full meal in days, anyways. 

You brought them by at around noon, handing the bag to Mitch and offering a small wave to the other members of the band, Harry nowhere in sight. You were about to ask if he was okay, genuine concern coming through, but you saw him come out of the bathroom. You rushed out the door before he could spot you, only slowing once you reach your car, throwing your head back against the head rest. 

“Hell yeah, y/n got us food?” Sarah said, making Harry look up from his hands at the bag of sandwiches in Mitch’s hand, flinching slightly at the name coming off her lips. He sits quietly on the couch, pretending to scroll through his phone when his name is called and a sandwich is thrown at him. 

He catches the wrapped sub, feeling more lousy that you’re still looking out for him. Simply a letter H is scrawled on the paper, making his heart break at the nickname that only you called him.

“Harry, you alright?” Sarah asks him, mouth full of food. He simply nods his head, not saying anything for fear that he won’t be able to stop the tears from falling down his cheeks. 

“I’m just wondering because you didn’t even say hello to y/n and usually she...” Sarah pauses after Mitch gives her a look, telling her to shut the hell up. She mouths ‘oh’ as Harry tugs on strands of his hair. 

“I really fucked it up, didn’t I?” He groans into his hands. His entire band nods simultaneously, rolling their eyes at the absolute wanker sitting in front of them. 

“I just don’t understand,” Harry starts again, shaking his head. “I hurt her and she still does this fucking shit,” he gestures to the uneaten sub in his lap, “and I’m nothing but a douche bag to her yet she always cares about me and helps me and i-” he stops, widening his eyes. 

“Dumbass,” Mitch whispers under his breath. 

“I gotta- I gotta go,” Harry says, frantically looking for his keys as they’re tossed at him by someone, and pointing out the door. 

“Go fuckin’ get her!” 

...

So, here Harry is, standing at the doorstep of y/n’s apartment, a bouquet of sunflowers in his fist, his other rapping at the wood door. 

You get up from your couch at the knock on your door, padding across the floor. You swing open the door, muttering a ‘hello’ before looking at who was standing at your door. 

“H?” you question, looking up at the man you knew so well. Except his skin was paled and the bags under his eyes were dark. His green eyes were dull and his hair a mess as if he had been tugging it upwards for hours on end (he had been doing exactly that).

“Y/n,” he says quietly, watching you intently, making a note of you wearing only his sweatshirt that hung above your knees, before you open the door a little wider, giving him a small smile and letting him into your apartment. 

The two of you stand face to face in the entry hall of your apartment, Harry awkwardly handing you the sunflowers he bought for you. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“I forgive you, Harry,” you say, setting the flowers on the entry table. “It was a mistake.”

“I-,” he starts, his voice cracking. “I’m a dumbass,” he whispers under his breath. You cock your head to the side, chuckling lightly. 

“What?” 

“Fuck it,” he says, closing what felt to be miles of space between the two of you, closing his eyes and ghosting his lips over yours. 

“I-” you shut your eyes, hesitating at the feeling of his lips feathering over yours, labored breaths shared between the two of you. 

“What about Cami-”

“We’re over.”

You sigh, pulling Harry into a hug. “Oh, Harry I’m so-” you pause, cupping his face in your hands and pulling his face away from your neck wide-eyed realization hitting you. 

You let out a puff of air, before the two of you melted your lips together, Harry placing his hands on your hips, rubbing softly on the one that he had hurt. 

You had imagined this moment for years. And now it was happening, better than you ever imagined it would be.

Harry pulls away, holding your face in his hands, tears pooling in his eyes that had just become that much brighter. 

[dont-cry2020]

I got this wild idea while drunk at three in the morning feeling horny as shit 😂 Harry somehow always ending up sucking on your boob while watching a movie. Like you'd be casually cuddling with his head on your chest and then he just pulls up/down your shirt and starts sucking on your nipple until he falls asleep and it's so normal between you two. I know it's fucking weird but I read about it somewhere in wattpad and now I can't stop thinking about it 😂

y is this hot but also cute at the same timethis is rly bad and short sorry lmao

It wasn’t a rare occurrence to find you and Harry cuddling in bed on a Sunday afternoon. Sundays seemed to be the one day of the week where you could have each other to yourselves the entire day with no distractions. Harry was usually keen on just cuddling all day or maybe having hot morning sex followed by a nice breakfast in bed for his girl. 

Today, the two of you were practicing the former; Harry’s head rested against your chest as a movie played in the background. Sometimes Harry insisted on being the big spoon, wrapping his muscular arms around you while you laid next to him or on his chest, and sometimes, like today, Harry just wanted to be held. 

So, here you are, running your fingers through his hair and massaging his scalp as he laid against your chest. 

One of Harry’s favorite things in the whole world were your breasts. He couldn’t really put his finger on why exactly (neither could you, if you were being honest), but he just was always wanting to play with them or suck on them. You would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the extra attention, though.

It was never a surprise when Harry peeled his cheek off your chest, sliding his hands under your shirt and cupping your breasts. You let out a sigh, relaxing further into the mattress as Harry pulled your shirt all the way off, immediately attaching his lips to your nipple. 

He sucked and licked at the soft skin, making sure to give each of your breasts the same amount of attention, and you loved it. You continued to massage his scalp as Harry’s movements slowed down, alerting you that he was falling asleep. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him close to you and falling asleep yourself.

[dont-cry2020]

daddy!harry fucking you awake in the morning, your laying on your stomach with Harry’s hand holding you down on your lower back pounding into you. When you wake up your a moaning mess trying to grind your ass back into his cock trying to match his rhythm he then ask “you like daddy using your little body like this for his own pleasure don’t you princess? “And all you can do is nod and try to form a sentence but your so overwhelmed with wanting to cum you can’t , all you can do is moan.

i forgot how to breathe reading this

once again if youre 12 pls dont read lmao

read more of my stuff here

Harry was horny. Very horny.

It was only around 8 in the morning, and he knew you were up late, so the last thing he wanted to do was wake you up from your peaceful sleep. But he was so hard it almost pained him. And the sight of your bare chest pressed against the mattress, your lower back covered with a nothing but a thin sheet, made him lose control.

He’s sitting up in bed, resting his back against the pillows and playing with his cock; the tip red and angry as he pumped it slowly, debating whether he should just jerk off in the shower or wake you up for help.

He decided he would wake you up…

So, Harry got on his knees, scooting down the bed and carefully pulling the sheets off of your body, exposing your ass and legs to him.

He swore under his breath, wanting nothing more then to leave a harsh slap on the skin, but he knew he had to be careful.

He pries your thighs open ever so carefully, halting his movements as you stir quietly in your sleep.

Harry also knew that you tasted so delicious, especially in the morning, but if he ate you right now, you were sure to wake up and that would not help his throbbing cock. So, he leaned down, nose pressed against the flesh of your ass, and licked a single stripe up your slit, collecting the wetness that was leftover from the night before.

He almost moaned at the taste, his dick becoming impossibly harder. He jerked it a few times before sliding it through your folds, creating a friction that set something off inside him.

He eased the tip in, shutting his eyes tight at the feeling of your warm walls stretching and clenching around him. You were still asleep, but he knew that you wouldn’t be for long.

His gentleness and chivalry got over taken by lust as he started pounding into you. He was a moaning mess, keeping up a fast pace that made his head spin. He saw you stirring, opening your eyes slowly before widening them at the feeling of being absolutely ravished.

“Harry- I,” you started to turn your body before your jaw went slack and you fell against the mattress at Harry’s hand pushing on your lower back. You fisted at the pillows, not even being able to think straight, as your body moved up and down with every thrust of Harry’s cock. You push back against his pubic bone, loving the scratch of his hair against your ass.

“Fuck,” Harry swears, pressing harder into your back. “You like it when daddy uses you as a fuck toy, don’t you princess?”

Your jaw drops at his words, butterflies in your tummy as you breathe out, but no words escape your lips.

Your stomach clenches and churns as you get pounded further into the mattress.

“You gon’ cum, princess? Need ya’ to cum fo’ m’.” His voice is raspy and deep, sending you over the edge and clenching against his cock, feeling every vein on the skin inside you.

Harry lets out one big groan before cumming inside you in thick spurts of white, unable to stop himself from collapsing on top of you.

You knew you had bruises on your lower back, but you could care less about that when Harry rolls of of you and pulls you to his chest.

“Fuck,” he whines, “you’re an angel. Feel so good wrapped around my cock.”

[hampsteadharry]

+

[dont-cry2020]

a whole fuckin snack

[dont-cry2020]

imagine harry pressing on ur tummy as he’s in u and it’s his favorite thing to do during sex cause he loves feeling himself in u

f u c kok here we go imma simp

i made the mistake of listening to a little death by the neighbourhood while writing this and I DONT KNOW HOW TO BREATHEthis is super dirty don’t read if ur like 12 pls

It had started out as it usually does; Harry kissing up your neck and sucking dark spots on your soft skin. He loved waking up next to you, the sunlight from the large bedroom windows illuminating the purple bruises that had his name written all over them. 

“Harry,” you moaned softly, bucking your hips into his as he continues to tease you. 

“Please,” you whine again after a few moments, the feeling between your thighs becoming too intense to handle. 

“Where d’ya want me baby?” he asks, sliding down your body and pressing kisses to your navel. You jerk him up by the hair, Harry letting out the most guttural groan from deep in his throat. 

“N-need your cock,” you say, this time letting himself move up your body with the tug of your fingers. 

“Fuck me,” he groans into your ear, low and deep and raspy. You drag your nails down his chest, over the waistband of his boxers, pulling them away from his skin and letting them slap back against his hips. Harry hisses, rolling off of you only to haphazardly tug the material off his legs, before climbing right back on top of you. 

You bring his neck down with your hands, pressing your lips to his and tangling tongues together. His hand creeps down to your pussy, swiping it through your wetness. He moans into your mouth at the feeling, mesmerized at how absolutely soaked you are, even though he hasn’t even touched you yet. 

“Fuck, this all fo’ me?” he growls, your nails scratching his back. 

“Yes daddy.”

Harry’s eyes almost turn completely black with lust, absolutely wankered at those words coming from your little innocent mouth.

Gripping his cock and pumping it slowly, he runs the tip over your folds, starting at your sensitive button and ending all the way at the little hole he loves so much. 

“Love the way that sounds coming out of your pretty little mouth,” he grunts, nibbling at your ear lobe. 

“Please daddy, need you,” you whisper, sending him over the edge and sliding his throbbing cock into your hole. 

You pant, throwing your head back at the feeling and fisting the sheets. Harry can’t get enough of the warmth engulfing him, mesmerized at the wetness dripping out onto the sheets.

He slows his pace down ever so slightly, hitting you so deep in your tummy that he can see the outline of his cock under your skin. He runs his hands over the bulge, loving the way he’s stretching you out. 

“Fuck me,” he swears again, applying light pressure to your tummy.

“Jes-fuck-shit,” you almost scream at the feeling of him so deep inside of you, his large palm pressing against your tummy, cold rings contrasting against your sweat-stained skin. Your hand flies to his, pressing it down harder against your navel. 

“You like that, baby girl? Like the feeling of me fucking my cock in your tummy? hmm?”

“Fuck! Yes, daddy!”

“Good girl,” he growls, pinning both of your hands against the pillows behind your head, using his other hand to press harder on his bulge. You couldn’t take it anymore; watching Harry watch himself slide in and out of your tight hole, stretching you out to no end as he pressed firmly on your lower belly.

“I-I’m close,” you pant, straining against the restraint on your wrists. He lets go from his hold, letting you fist his shoulders, forcing little crescent-shaped nail marks into the skin. 

Harry drops his head onto your shoulder, languidly sucking at the skin; a sign that he was almost at his high as well. Your breath labored, forcing your eyes shut and arching your hips into his, feeling the hair on his pubic bone scratch against your skin. You finally reached your high, letting out a mixture between a scream and a pant combined with Harry’s name. 

He pressed his nose into your neck, his curls sweaty and stuck to his forehead as he rides you out of your high before reaching his own. He pulls out of you, briefly admiring your drippy hole, before shooting his load onto your tummy in hot, white spurts. 

You feel your stomach flutter at the sight of his head rolled back and his eyes shut, mouth open, hand pumping his cock. He falls to his side, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes for a brief moment, the exhaustion taking over his body. You lie on your back, loving the way his cum drips over your tummy. 

He rolls to the edge of the bed, picking up a towel from the ground and gently wiping his release off your belly before tenderly wiping the drip from your hole, knowing how sensitive you can get, especially after something like that. He falls back beside you, pulling you into him so that your back is flush with his chest. He peppers kisses to your shoulder, eyes closed and mellowing out your breaths.

“That was hot,” you say finally, after minutes of silence and softness.

“Yeah? You like it when daddy stuffs you full of his cock, don’t you?”

Your eyes shoot open, feeling him hard against your lower back. 

“An animal, you are,” you laugh, turning your body before Harry grips your hips, holding you in place. He slides into your hole, holding your hips firmly against his, loving the way your warmth takes over his body. 

He grasps your hips tighter when you buck your ass against him. 

“Jus’ wanna lay here fo’ a bit, feel all warm fo’ me,” Harry mumbles into your shoulder, unsuccessfully trying to fight the exhaustion taking over his body. He wraps his arm around you, resting his hand gently against your lower belly, rubbing soft circles over the bulging skin. 

You let your eyes flutter closed, loving the warm fuzzy feeling in your tummy, and Harry’s loving touch against the skin. 

if you enjoyed this, you can read more here !!

[dont-cry2020]

Thank you for writing a blurb from my idea 🥰🥰🥰🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

course love!! hope you’re safe and healthy <3333

[dont-cry2020]

Can you maybe write something about h cuddling with his sick toddler?

omg i’m such a hoe for dad harry like he needs to have kids rnnnnnnnn

anyways writing this on my phone again at 12:30 in the dark lmao

also keep the harry requests going i LOVE these yall are too smart

this is superrrrr fluffy prepare to cry love u guys

Small cries echoing off the baby monitor beside your sleeping body woke you slowly, having you sit up in bed and rub your eyes. The green numbers of your alarm clock illuminated the dark room, reading an alarming 3:45 AM.

“I got her, Love,” your husband calls quietly next to you, his voice deep and o-so-sexy, and his curls tangled on his head.

“Mmm,” you mumble, a mutually understood ‘thank you i love you so fucking much’ leaving your lips. Harry gives you a soft kiss on the forehead as you fall back asleep, your gratitude for your husband just that much greater when he takes care of baby.

Your sweet little girl, Lilly, was 16 months old, and she was honestly such an angel. Other moms your age had told you horror stories about their babies crying and screaming 24/7, and it gave you so much anxiety, constantly praying that your little girl wouldn’t be so much of a handful. Especially since you and Harry were both quite busy these days.

Although, Harry had taken up quite the role of ‘daddy’ and not in the way the two of you had experimented with (sorry 😳). He was always on it when Lilly cried or needed a change, and would only wake you up if she needed food. He was quite the angel as well.

If you asked him, he would tell you it was no issue and he loved to take care of his baby, and that was the truth. Harry and baby Styles had the most beautiful bond you could ever hope the father of your child would ever have. Not to mention Harry felt absolutely awful when he left for tour; being away from his two loves was absolute torture for him.

“Shh, shh,” Harry bounces Lilly in his arms, trying to get her to quiet down her piercing cries. “Sweet Lilly, wha’s the matter, hmm?”

The small girl in his arms stops crying for a brief moment to let out what Harry found to be the cutest little sneeze he’s ever heard.

“Oh, poor baby,” he whispers, resting his hand to her small head. “Ya’ not feelin’ well, darlin’?”

Baby just whines more, clawing at Harry’s bare chest with her chubby fingers. Harry presses his pink lips to her hands, and she wraps her small arms as far around his neck as they can go.

Meanwhile, Harry has forgotten to turn off the baby monitor, so you’re sat in bed lying on your side and listening to your husband talk to your little love. Your heart melts as he talks to her in a soft voice, imagining him standing there in nothing but boxers, a small scrunchie in his hair as he loves on his daughter.

“D’ya need a cuddle?” Harry coos as Lilly buries her tiny face into his chest, seemingly quieting down quite a bit. She lets out the tiniest of coughs before closing her big green eyes (inherited from h of course) and settling down. “D’ya wan’ go cuddle with mommy? Momma’s cuddles always help m’ when ‘m sick.”

You push your lip out into a pout, eyes tearing up a tiny bit at his words, heart swelling out of your chest. Harry’s soft footsteps alert you to the doorway, the soft glow of the hallway illuminating his frame.

“Sorry to wake you,” he whispers, baby clutched to his chest. “Think bub’s comin’ down with somethin’”

You frown, pressing your hand to her forehead that was buried in Harry’s chest as he climbs into bed next to you.

“She does feel a little warm,” you say petting the back of her head before doing the same to Harry’s cheek. “You’re such a good dad.”

You feel Harry’s lips twitch into a smile under your palm at your kind words. He puts his hand on top of yours, bringing it to his lips.

“And you’re the best momma.”

You snuggle closer to him, baby in between the two of you, as you start to drift off again. Harry holds his baby close, shutting his eyes after he knows that both of his girls are comfortably sleeping.

...

Soft snores make you open your eyes slowly, letting out a small yawn before turning to your side. Your jaw drops as you feel your heart physically swell (IDK HOW ELSE TO DESCRIBE THE FEELING BUT LITERALLY JUST IMAGINE HARRY NEXT TO YOU SLEEPING WITH HIS BABY SNUGGLED INTO HIM I WOULD CRY) at the sight in front of you.

Harry’s tanned skin glowed under the golden morning sun, contrasting against Lilly’s pale pink arms. His eyes were closed and lips parted, one large hand clutching the small child to his chest. You quickly take a few pictures (who wouldn’t) before snuggling impossibly closer to your two loves.

You ghost your hand up and down Harry’s arm, and eventually his eyes flutter open, greeting you with a warm smile.

“Mornin’” he mumbles, stretching slightly and being careful not to disturb the sleeping bundle of joy in his arms.

“Morning,” you tell him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips after he puckers them at you. “How is she?”

Harry shuts his eyes, placing his cheek on her head (being careful not to rub since he has a slight stubble) before opening his eyes and frowning.

“S’ill feels a little warm; not ‘s bad as earlier though.”

“Good,” you say, brushing a stray curl off his face and pressing a kiss to your baby’s head. She promptly opens her eyes, babbling something quiet.

“Is my bubs awake?” you ask, tickling her back and pressing kisses to her skin.

Lilly giggles, wriggling out of her father’s grasp to look at you, giving you the biggest gummy smile. Harry pouts at her before peppering kisses to her.

“G’morning bubba,” he says, rubbing her nose in her neck. She giggles at him, grabbing at his nose. Harry gasps, falling dramatically onto his back. “My nose!”

You laugh as baby crawls over to him and climbs onto his chest, poking and prodding at his body with her little hands.

“Guess somebody is feeling better,” you say, giggling at Harry and Lilly.

[dont-cry2020]

Where you’re pregnant during the corona outbreak and Harry is SUPER protective

“Harry, let me come with you,” you say, resting your hands on your small bump. 

“Love, you have to stay here. I can’t risk you getting sick,” he tells you, pulling on his sweatshirt and running a hand through his unruly curls. “Need to keep you two safe,” he mumbles, pulling your belly flush against him and placing his lips on your temple. 

You sigh, resting your head on his chest and lightly fisting the fabric of his black hoodie. He holds you close, burying his nose in your hair and inhaling the scent of your coconut shampoo that he loves so much. 

“What if you get hurt?” you whisper, tearing up slightly (pregnancy has mad you so goddamn emotional) and pushing yourself impossibly closer to the boy that makes you feel so whole. 

“Lovie,” he says with a breathy laugh, running his long fingers through the tangles of your hair. “‘m jus’ goin’ to the grocery store.”

Harry knows that pregnancy has been hard on you, and it’s scary to think about your future, nonetheless the future of the human growing inside you. He plants a soft kiss to your lips before grabbing his keys and heading out the door. 

“Text me if you think of anything else you need,” he says, shutting the front door and walking to his car. Harry knows that you’re nervous, so he tries to be as quick as he can in the store. Most shelves are empty, anyways.

When he comes home, he doesn’t let you touch anything until he’s properly disinfected it, so you just sit and wait for him to finish cloroxing everything he’s bought.

“Harry, let me help you,” you plead, leaning against the counter, hands placed around your bump.

“Love, I’ve told ya, I can’t risk gettin you sick!”

You just frown, sighing as you pad away from the kitchen. You knew Harry was just trying to keep you and baby safe, but it didn’t feel good to not be able to help with anything.

You lie on the king sized bed, scrolling through your phone when the bed dips behind you, Harry’s arms sliding around your torso, right above the bump. He places soft little kissed behind your ear and neck, and knowing that you can never stay mad at him, you turn to face him.

Cupping his cheeks with your hands, you place a soft kiss to his lips, pulling away and snuggling closer into him.

“Baby,” he says softly.

“Mm?”

“M sorry if I made you feel a little useless earlier. I jus cant imagine what i’d do if you or baby got hurt.”

“I know Harry,” you say, pulling away from his body to look into his green eyes. “And I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he smiles, pecking your lips before sliding down to your tummy. “And I love you, too bug”

...

A few months had passed and you and Harry had agreed to give birth at home with the help of a midwife, because otherwise Harry wouldn’t be allowed to be in the room with you as you have birth.

You couldn’t imagine not having him to hold your hand, especially since you had never done this before and you were terrified. So when you woke up at 3 in the morning with a not so comfortable wet feeling ~down there~ you were absolutely horrified to say the least.

“Harry!” you whispered, shaking his limp body. He just groaned, scooting closer to you.

“Get some sleep bab-“ He stopped himself, opening his eyes at the feeling of liquid all over you and the bed. “Are you?”

“Yes!” you shouted at him, enamored at his ability to not listen to you. He scrambled out of bed, immediately calling the midwife before getting you a towel to lay under you.

“Okay Baby,” he starts, kneeling beside you and frantically grasping your hand, “midwife ‘ll be here in a few minutes, she said we just need to sit tight for a little.”

“Easier said then done,” you groaned, squeezing his hand and burying your head into the pillow.

A few hours later, you pushed for the last time, and baby Styles was thrusted into your arms.

“I- Oh my goodness,” you choked back a sob at the little baby girl that you were finally holding. “You’re so beautiful,” the tears started streaming down your cheeks and Harry followed suit, gazing in awe at the small human you were holding, eyes glassing over.

“Hi, Lovie,” he said, brushing her wet whisps of hair off of her forehead. “I’m your daddy,” he whispered, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and giving the baby his finger to hold on to. He looked at you, giving you the most adorable awed expression.

“She looks jus like you,” he whispered, planting a soft kiss to your temple.

“She has your eyes,” you said, snuggling closer with your new little family of three.

...

“Y/n,” you’re shaken awake by your husband, bouncing the new born on his hip as she lets out shrill cries. It had been two months since she was born and she had colic, a nightmare for any parent. “I think she’s hungry.”

You slowly sit up in bed, slipping the strap of your tank top on and holding the baby to latch to your breast. She ate for a moment before bursting into tears again.

“No baby, shhh,” you shushed, trying to rock her to sleep. But, alas, she still wouldn’t stop crying.

“Here,” Harry says, removing his shirt and revealing his still very prominent muscles littered in tattoos. He reaches for the girl, holding her to his chest and sliding into bed with you.

“Sweet creature,” he begins to sing softly, pressing her into his warm skin. Your heart melts, and you sidle into his side.

“Wherever I go, you bring me home,” he finishes, your baby fast asleep and you close behind her.

“How did you do that?” you laugh lightly, shutting your eyes.

“I have no idea,” he chuckles breathlessly, pulling you closer and planting a kiss to your head. “M’ two girls.”

[dont-cry2020]

Hello! Could you maybe do a little blurb where the reader is shy when it comes to her body and Harry is all loving and encouraging towards her? Love your writing by the way! xoxo

ok so idk if u mean like during sex or like body positivity or all of it so imma just do both. all of you are beautiful so hold your heads up high <3

Harry noticed your insecurities for the first time when the two of you were about to have sex. 

It had gone the way it usually does: him checking out his gorgeous girlfriend, or you checking out your gorgeous boyfriend, kissing each other, you taking off his shirt, him taking off yours...

But you had been shy, a different type of shy than the usual ‘we’re about to fuck!’ shy. It was more of an ‘I don’t want you to look at my body because I think I’m ugly and unworthy’ shy. It made Harry’s heart break as you shielded your chest and torso from him with your arms. 

“Love,” he said, stopping his lip service and brushing your hair out of your face. “You’re beautiful. Absolutely stunning.”

A shy smile graced your lips as Harry ran his hands down your arms, gently peeling them away from your body. He kissed your lips, down your jaw, behind your ear, down your neck and chest and torso, muttering how beautiful you are and how much he loves each part of you. 

“...I love your tummy because one day it’ll carry our baby.”

You smiled widely at him as he continued kissing his way down to your toes, looking up at you with his big green eyes. When he made his way back up to your face, he gave you a big sloppy kiss before continuing his previous actions. 

...

The second time he noticed it was when the two of you were getting ready for the Met Gala. Alessandro had picked out a gorgeous red Gucci gown with black accents to match Harry’s, and you were so excited to wear it. 

However, when you woke up the morning of the Met, you just felt so insecure and ugly. Harry woke up a little while after you, only to find that when he reached to your side of the bed, it was cold and empty. Squinting his eyes and turning to his side, his furrowed brow returned, finding you standing in front of the mirror in just your underwear, poking at your tummy and looking at your butt. 

“Love,” he had said groggily. You jumped, turning your body and covering yourself. He slid out of the covers, wrapping his arms around your torso from the back and burying his head into your neck. He closed his eyes, mumbling about how beautiful you are and how you don’t need to hide from him. 

He never pushed you to wear anything you didn’t want to or go to anything you didn’t want to, but you knew how much the Met meant to him, and you wanted to go and support your boyfriend who so often supports you. So you got into the red gown and strutted your stuff on the red carpet. To say that Harry wasn’t baffled by your beauty would be a lie.

That and there are multiple paparazzi pictures of him staring at your ass...

But in the end, Harry always made you feel loved and beautiful, even when you didn’t feel so good yourself. And whenever you were shy about your body, he wouldn’t cease to show you how hot you were, making you feel good in all the right places.

[dont-cry2020]

“Guess You’re a Celebrity Now, Huh?”

Harry Styles X Reader

//inspired by an idea given to me by the wonderful @peter-andthelostboys//

//What happens when there’s a new girl at an arts college? Well, she receives anonymous portraits shoved under her door, that the notorious Harry Styles may have something to do with//

//Fluff and angst//

//this definitely isn’t my best work but I haven’t been feeling super motivated lately, so thank you for your patience. i might try and rewrite this another time bc i really love the idea//

Harry loved to draw. It was his passion. 

He was quite good at it, too, so it was really no surprise to his friends and family when he got accepted to art school in Los Angeles. 

It’s a scary thing to move all the way across the world, let alone by yourself, but Harry adjusted quickly, enjoying the warm climate that was so different from the UK.

You, on the other hand, were feeling quite lost after high school. Your parents pushed you into medical program after medical program, determined that you were going to ‘make the family proud’ and ‘become rich and smart.’

For starters, you could care less about being rich, but you decided to humor your parents by going to medical school. Yeah, it was hard. 

So incredibly hard.

So hard, in fact, that you could count the panic attacks and all nighters you pulled on two hands. 

However, you found in yourself a passion for music; whether that was writing music or playing guitar or singing, it made you feel whole. Something that medicine and doctorates degrees could never. 

As Junior year began and the weather got crisper and the air constantly smelled like cinnamon and spice, you started to feel lonely on top of the stress. Sure, you had your friends, really good friends at that, but that wasn’t the problem. You longed for someone to love, someone to hold you and help you through your ups and downs and someone for you to help through their ups and downs. But, you knew that you couldn’t handle a relationship right now, for Christ’s sake you were studying to be a goddamn doctor!

You had a boyfriend freshman year. He was kind, smart, and, much to your parent’s approval, was studying to become a pediatrician. 

But you weren’t happy. 

It was always about school and homework; never parties or holidays or even intimacy. So, you ended it, and as junior year is upon you, you haven’t had a boyfriend since. 

Your girlfriends noticed that you were lonely, so they spent their time setting you up with hot college medical students to which you indulged in, and it was fun, sure, but you still weren’t happy. 

So you did the one thing that your parents never forgave you for.

You dropped out.

You dropped out of medical school and transferred to an arts college, one that you had your eye on since freshman year, and one that was about as far away from home as you could possibly go. 

You didn’t tell your mom or dad, didn’t tell them because you already knew what they were going to say. 

“You’re ruining your future!”

“You have no chance of getting a job now!” 

They hadn’t stopped since they found out from your brother, wondering why such a smart girl would become an art student. They didn’t even know you liked art. 

You were sad to leave your friends, sure, who wouldn’t be? You loved them, but you all understood that it was for the best. You had a dream, and you were going to chase it. They stood at the gates of the airport, waving and crying and hugging you as you boarded the plane from London to LAX. 

“Here we go.”

...

Art school was weird.

There were no snobby students with 4.0 GPA’s to wave in your face, no professors that thought they were better than everyone else or classes that you dreaded going to. 

It was actually fun. Who knew that college could be fun, right?

Moving into your dorm was terrifying. You didn’t know where to go or who your roommate was going to be, and despite your previous experiences, it was already half way through the first semester, and every one else had their chances to collect their bearings. Luckily for you, you got your own room because everyone else had already moved in and had roommates.

...

Rumor had spread throughout campus that a new girl had moved in. 

“Apparently she’s English,” or “she transferred from medical school” or “she’s a music major” were all things that Harry heard walking down the halls of his dorm and through the lawn and in classes.

It seems like this new student was all anyone ever talked about. 

He couldn’t say he wasn’t intrigued, for he was English too, and curious at that, but he was an art student and you were a music student, so he never saw you around, and none of his friends had ever met you either. 

As February rolled by, you had found that you adjusted quite nicely, making a few close friends and acquainting yourself with new faces. 

The weather was probably your favorite part about this school. Back home, you would never even dream of studying outside on the lawn in the middle of the winter, but here you are, sitting in a circle with a few of your friends, talking and laughing about music and strumming your guitar. 

Harry had his headphones in walking home from class. He was tired and he really just wanted a quick nap. It was Tuesday afternoon and the sun was shining, so there were tons of people on the lawn. It wasn’t a new thing for people to be playing instruments or singing when it was nice outside, so he didn’t bat an eye when he heard strumming of a familiar song. 

But his eyes widened when he heard an accented voice that matched his own. His eyes followed a group of students, most he had seen before, but he didn’t recognize the girl with the English accent. 

She must be the new girl. 

Harry convinced himself that he didn’t want to go back to his dorm to work on his art, but it was such a beautiful day that he would sit on the lawn and sketch his little heart out. 

He found himself staring at the girl, memorizing every freckle and curve of her face, quickly looking at his lap when you caught his eye, feeling like you were being watched. 

“Who’s that?” you asked your friends, pointing at the boy sitting by himself, nose buried in his sketch book.

“That,” Jack said, eyes widening, “is Harry Styles. Probably the hottest guy on campus.”

Margot rolled her eyes. “Jack’s just mad because he’s not into guys. He’s British like you, ya know.”

“He is hot,” you say, looking over at the boy with curly brown hair and tattoos littering his arms. “I should introduce myself.”

“Yes girl, get it!” Jack cheers. Rolling your eyes, you walk over to him. 

“Can I sit?” you ask, looking down at Harry. He looks up at you eyes widening, scrambling to close the sketchbook that was full of drawings of you. He couldn’t help it, you were just so gorgeous. He nods his head slowly, eyeing you up a bit. 

“‘M y/n,” you say, holding out your hand for him to shake.

“Harry,” he says, engulfing your hand in his large tattooed one. His rings catch your eye, reflecting the light and making him look that much more intimidating. “You’re English,” he remarks, not asking, but rather telling as if you didn’t already know. 

“Yeah,” you laugh nervously, his stare making you slightly uncomfortable. 

“Sorry,” he says apologetically. “Jus’ never seen you around here.”

“‘M new. Transferred last semester.”

Harry was interesting. He was funny, sweet, but a little reserved and intimidating, too. He was an art student that looked like he was the lead singer of a rock band. He dressed in dark jeans and jumpers and wore necklaces and rings. Never what you would have expected to be attracted to, being an ex-medical student and all. But, despite your doubts, you found him very appealing. 

The conversation ended when he had to get to class, so you bid him farewell and returned to your group of friends, egging you on for every detail of your previous conversation. 

...

The week finally rolled along to Friday, and you were set to go to bed early and watch netflix alone, in proper need of some me time. Your friends, however had other ideas when they barged into your dorm with a bottle of wine and the skimpiest dress they could find. 

“Come on, y/n, please!” Jack begged you, walking to your closest and rifling through your clothes in the most extra way possible. He pulls out a pair of lacy panties and a matching bra. “All of your clothes make you look like a prude, so you’re wearing this.”

“Hey!” you say, snatching the undergarments from him and shoving them back into your drawer. “I’m so spent tonight, I really don’t feel like going out.”

“But,” Margot says, pulling your makeup out from your desk, “a certain British boy will be there.”

Suddenly all parts of you that were fatigued and not wanting to go to a party change their direction and you’re snatching the dress from Jack’s hold and going to the bathroom. 

“Forgot something, sweetie,” he teases, throwing the lacy underwear at you. 

You looked hot. You weren’t gonna lie. The black velvet dress clung to all your curves and stopped right above your knees, scrunching up on the sides with little ties. Your hair was curled and eyeliner sharp, and you honestly felt a little overdressed for a little college house party. Little did you know, LA art students don’t mess around at house parties. 

To say that heads didn’t turn when you walked in the room would be a complete lie. All eyes were on the new girl, including a familiar pair of sparkling green ones.

Harry was intrigued, to say the least, watching the new girl dance around the house, nursing a drink and laughing with her friends. He wasn’t much of a party guy himself; he had a lot of friends, sure, but he preferred just to stay home or have small get togethers with them. 

He felt himself being drawn to you, sliding in between grinding bodies and swaying slightly to the music as he neared your own dancing body. 

“D’you wanna dance with me?” Hot breath fans over the back of your neck, goosebumps erupting over your skin. Spinning on your heels, you weren’t all too surprised when you were face to face with the only other Brit in the room. His gaze flickered across your face, brow furrowed and concentrated as he set his hands on your hips. You threw your own arms around his neck giggling to yourself as you saw Harry smile for the first time since you met him. His perfect white teeth had butterflies erupting in your belly.

You danced for a while longer, all the alcohol you had consumed earlier finally catching up to you. Giggling as you lose your balance, Harry catches you, holding you still before smashing his lips to yours. 

Mere seconds felt like hours as his lips touched yours. You barely knew the guy, but for some reason it felt like the best kiss of your life. Yet, somehow, you knew you wouldn’t remember it in the morning, so you focused on the present and how he made you feel. 

He made you feel good.

It felt like nothing you had ever felt before, sparks flying and hearts pounding and every other phrase used to describe something completely and utterly amazing. You got lost in his lips, memorizing every inch. 

You pulled away, not completely unaware of the lust in the curly haired man’s green eyes. 

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” you tell him over the booming music, slipping out of his arms and entering the much quieter but still noisy kitchen. 

“Y/n! Where’d you go earlier?” Margot questioned, smirking at the lipstick smudged across your face. 

“Jus’ dancing,” you slur, getting yourself another cup of whatever alcohol was on the counter.

“Mhmm,” she says, knowingly raising her eyebrows and taking your cup, replacing it with a bottle of water. “Think you’re done.” You groan, begrudgingly taking a sip out of the bottle, your body silently thanking you for ending it’s torture. 

Harry wasn’t sure how it happened, but as soon as you left him, he was being dragged onto the dance floor by some girl, he wasn’t sure who, and was being grinded on and made out with. 

“Y/n,” Jack said, tugging Margot by the arm, eyes widening “do you want to head back to your dorm now? We know parties aren’t really your thing.”

“What! I’m having so much fun!” you sway on your heels, trying not to fall down. “Why do we have to leave I-” your heart dropped in your chest.

Harry’s tongue was dancing with some random girl’s, not even five minutes after he had kissed you. Maybe it wasn’t the end of the world, maybe you shouldn’t have been so attached to a man that you had just met and just kissed once, maybe you were drunk, but you didn’t care. It felt like your world was crashing down. 

You ran as fast as your bare feet could carry you, Jack and Margot chasing you, yelling at you to slow down, but you didn’t listen. 

Harry saw you run out of the party, pushing the girl sucking his face off and palming him through his jeans away. He thought that maybe he should go after you, but he didn’t feel like it’d be welcome. He ran his hands through his hair, eventually following your lead and leaving the party to head back to his own dorm. 

Your feet carried you all the way to your room, unlocking it and throwing yourself on the bed, mascara tears staining your pillow case. 

“Hun,” Jack says, petting your hair and pulling it back into a pony tail. “Don’t worry about this prick. He’s not worth your time.”

The rest of the night was spent with Jack and Margot holding back your hair as you threw up what seemed to be everything you’ve eaten in the past two weeks, and you crying about you didn’t even remember what anymore. 

Harry tried to sleep that night, still buzzed and tired from the party and the previous week, but he couldn’t seem to rest his racing mind. He got out of bed, only clad in a pair of boxers, and went to his desk, pulling out his sketch pad and getting to work. He drew line after line and shadow after shadow, constructing a piece that he felt genuinely proud of, something he hasn’t felt in what seemed like ages. He knew that it needed to be seen. 

...

Your head was pounding. Absolutely hammering in your head. Jack and Margot were passed out on the floor, blankets and pillows and water bottles littered the bedroom and after seeing the stains on your pillow, you really didn’t want to look in the mirror. However, you eventually had to get out of bed, throwing the covers off your bare legs and sluggishly walking into the bathroom. The best part about transferring in the middle of the year, you found, was that you didn’t have a roommate to share the bathroom with, or someone that would see you like this. 

“Holy fucking shit,” you whispered, taking in the reflection looking back at you. Your cheeks were tear-stained with black streaks of mascara, your hair was matted and had chunks of something you hoped was not throw up in it. Not to mention that you were still wearing your dress from last night, except now it was bunched around your torso like a tight potato sack. 

You stripped, throwing your clothes onto the floor and getting into the shower. The hot water cascaded down your head, wetting your hair and face and washing all of the regret away. You were in the heavenly water for a good long time, fingers starting to prune up from the steam and liquid. 

Walking back into your room, you were pleasantly surprised to see that Jack and Margot had left a note on your bed, saying that they went to get breakfast and would be back soon. You thanked God that it was Saturday and you didn’t have any classes. 

You immediately got back into bed after you dried off, pulling the covers up to your chin and closing your eyes, hoping to calm the pounding in your head just a little bit. That’s why, when there was a quiet knock on the door, you didn’t get up immediately, thinking that it was just a courtesy knock from Jack and Margot before they barged in with food. But when that didn’t come and the hallway quieted, you rolled yourself off the bed, grumbling to yourself and opening the door. 

“Hello?” you say to no one in particular, seeing as there was no one on the other side of the door. You looked around, peeking your head into the deserted hallway, before finally looking down and seeing one of those big orange manila envelopes. You figured it was something from the front desk or maybe a letter from your mom telling you how you were making a mistake, but bizarrely enough, there was no address or even name. You took one more look around the hall before going back into your room and shutting the door behind you. 

Curiously, you picked open the envelope with your fingernails, carefully ripping the paper. You pulled out the paper inside the envelope. 

Shocked was an understatement to how you were feeling. A gorgeous portrait of lines and shapes that created none other than your face. It was a little chilling, knowing that someone has been examining your face and features so closely, but also because there was no name or address...not even a note. 

“What’s that?” Jack asks, barging into the door, arms full of muffins. He throws you one, sitting down on the bed next to you and examining the paper in your lap. 

“Someone left it at my door, but there’s no note or name or anything,” you say quietly, eyes scanning the picture. “That’s weird, right?” 

“Ooh,” Margot says. “Somebody’s got a secret admirer!”

“More like a stalker,” Jack remarks, tracing the paper with his fingers. “Who do you think would do this?” 

You honestly had no clue. The only visual arts student you knew was...no. 

“Harry!” Jack says. “It has to be Harry!”

“There’s no way in hell it’s Harry,” you remark, slipping the paper back into it’s envelope and placing it onto your desk, changing the subject to the events of the previous night.

...

A few weeks later, Harry found himself drawing constantly; whether it was small sketches or bigger works, they all had one common factor; they were of the same woman he couldn’t get out of his head. 

You, on the other hand, had received quite a few more drawings stuck under your door. At first, you weren’t all that phased, but you couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that you didn’t know who was doing this. 

Margot had called it a ‘secret admirer’ but you weren’t quite sure whether it was that, or a stalker. Sure, it was sweet and all the drawings were beautiful, but how did said person find out where your room was? Or how did they know when to put the drawings by your door so they could have enough time to leave? 

Jack had suggested that you sit by the door until there’s a knock, so one night, you settled by the door, rather impatiently waiting. 

Nothing.

Still nothing.

Still nothing. 

Feeling your eyes get heavy, you let yourself go, falling limp against the door and succumbing to a deep sleep, so when you were startled awake from a knock on the wooden door, you weren’t able to register what had happened fast enough.

Sure enough, when the door swung open there was another envelope, just like all the other ones you had received, except this time, something caught your eye. 

There was a date and a time scribbled in messy handwriting: 7 PM, 2/23. 

Your brow furrowed, staring at the information written on the paper, eventually pulling our your phone and sending a picture to your friends. 

what does this mean ? you wrote, referring to the information you had received.

OMG! that’s the art show tomorrow! jack responded

you have to go now! Margot sent

You were a little creeped out to tell the truth, but you wanted nothing more than to find who the mystery artist was, and why they wanted you to go to the art show. 

It was no surprise when Jack and Margot barged into your dorm the next day, rifling through your closet and styling you. 

“It’s a goddamn art show, not a party,” you said as Jack pulled out another frumpy dress that he probably made you buy. 

“Okay, and?” he asked, fluttering his lashes that were honestly far longer than you could ever get yours.

So, here you were, standing in the middle of the art hall, hair and makeup done, looking nervously around the exhibits that other students had created. They were all really beautiful, but you found yourself being drawn to one in particular . 

A large oil painting of a girl with y/e/c and y/h/c laughing with a guitar in her hands was standing at the center of the room on an easel. The sky was painted with deep purples and blues and pinks and you couldn’t help but gape at the blending of colors. Something about the painting was familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. 

“Mr. Styles, is this the model you used for this gorgeous work?” 

“Er... Yes, actually.”

You stop in your tracks, glancing up at the painting one more time and then turning towards the voices. Harry. 

Harry painted this. And it was a painting of you. 

You opened your mouth to say something, closing it after nothing came out. 

“You-?” you whispered, still awestruck from the fact that Harry was the artist. 

“Yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his neck and giving you a shy smile.

“And the drawings?”

He nods his head. 

You stand there in awkward silence for a moment before he motions for you to come follow him. Your steps fall in place behind his as he leads you outside into the cool February air. 

“I thought I should explain...” he says, ruffling his hair but not looking at you. “Tha’ night, at the party,” he starts, pausing for a moment to gather his words. “When I kissed ya... I felt something. And I know you did too... and then tha’ girl, whashername?”

You just shrugged your shoulders, slightly amused by the crease formed in the man’s forehead. 

“Anyways,” he continues, “doesn’t matter. But when she kissed me and I saw you run out, and she kissed me,” he emphasizes the last part, widening his eyes and you just shake your head, lips curling up into a smile. “An’ I was gonna run after you but I didn’t think I’d be welcome... so I knew I needed to make it up to you... and after I met you on the lawn I couldn’t get the image of you laughing with your friends outta my head and I just knew I had to draw you and-” he continues to ramble on, but you just shush him, gripping your shirt in your fists and pressing your lips to his. 

He trips slighty but you hold him into place by the fabric of his shirt, his hands eventually sliding onto the small of your back. 

“D’ya wanna go out with me?” he asks as you pull away, his eyes glimmering in the sunset as you both catch your breaths. 

“Yes,” you say, laughing slightly. “I do.”

Harry called you a few days later, asking if you wanted to go get coffee at a shop that he went to often. You obliged, saying that you would love to, ‘forgetting’ to tell your two best friends so they would leave you be to get ready. 

You were excited; it was your first real date with Harry, and you liked him a lot. You had chemistry and it was clear as water to anyone who saw. 

Walking into the coffee shop and looking around, Harry’s arm waving at you caught your eye. He gave you a warm smile, gesturing to sit at the seat across from him. 

“Hey,” you say, greeting him. 

“Hi,” he says, pulling your chair out for you before sitting down in his own seat. “I ordered you a latte. I hope that’s okay?”

“Perfect,” you say, pulling the coffee to your lips, choking on it at the sight of a certain painting hanging on the wall. 

“Har- that’s- that’s your painting!” you tell him. He only smirks and nods his head. 

“’S on display,” he says, resting his head on his hand. “Thought everyone should have the pleasure of looking the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

You blush, taking another sip of your latte, before a little kid comes up to you, chocolate smudged across his face. 

“Is that you?” he says, pointing a chubby finger at the picture. You chuckle. 

“Yeah, actually, it is.” you say, smiling at his mom as she apologetically takes her boy by the hand. 

“Guess you’re a celebrity now, huh?” Harry says. 

“You made me famous,” you tell him, grinning at the green eyed boy in front of you.

[dont-cry2020]

what abt something really soft where harry comes home to a reader who’s been studying for hours (even though she knows everything lol) n he just comes up behind her n massages her shoulders and is like “love, you’ve got so many knots in your shoulders... let me take care of u” and he gives her a soft massage in bed?? and it’s just super soft n nice n fluffy... ahhhh

i wish i had a harry to massage me while i’m studying lmaooo. anyways i wrote this at 11 pm on my phone in the dark so if it doesn’t make sense i’m sorry haha. i hope u enjoy !!

you were so engaged in your hectic studying and highlighting that you didn’t notice the door to your apartment open and close softly.

harry frowned at the sight of you; it seemed like you were constantly burying your nose in your textbook, absorbing knowledge that he was sure you already knew. you were the smartest girl he knew and he’d be damned to think that you wouldn’t be ready for your exams. for christ’s sake, they weren’t for two weeks and it seemed like you had been preparing for ages.

“never to early to start studying,” you would tell him after he scolded you for forgetting to have a meal or not giving him cuddles. harry needed his cuddles.

he sighs, placing his bag softly on the floor by your bedroom door and sidling behind you, leaning over your seated body and wrapping his arms around your neck, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“hi, lovie,” he said quietly as to not disturb you, for he knew that would make you much crankier later, and he definitely wouldn’t get his cuddles then.

“hi, h,” you mumbled, spinning around in your chair and placing a chaste kiss to his lips before spinning back around and resuming your position at your desk. harry slides his arms up to your shoulders, trying to melt away the stress that you were so obviously bearing.

you shut your eyes briefly, leaning back into his touch as his thumbs rub deeply into your back muscles.

“bub you’re back is all knotted up,” he said, furrowing his brow at the thought that his baby is all stressed out.

you only hum at his words, trying to finish the chapter you were reading in your textbook about something or other.

“love,” harry says more firmly, but still soft. “please let me take care of you, you could seriously hurt your back.”

“harry, what?” you chuckle as he spins around your chair. “i have to study!”

“nah uh,” he tuts, grabbing your hands and pulling you to your feet so that your chest is flush against his. “much better,” he says, burying his head into your hair and inhaling your perfume.

“harry what are you-?” you ask as he walks you backwards onto the bed.

“gon’ give you a massage.”

somehow harry had managed to take your top off and had you lie down on your tummy on the bed. his hands worked a lot of magic, playing guitar and piano and… other things… but massaging was definitely an added talent.

such an added talent, that you felt yourself begin to drift off, finally getting the much needed sleep that you and your boyrfriend both knew you had been lacking.

harry noticed when you stopped responding to his hands digging into your back muscles, so he slid to the side of you, taking off his dress shirt and sliding it over your bare arms. he pulled you against his tummy and wrapped himself around you, pulling the covers up and over the two of you. he pressed one more kiss to the top of your head, muttering something along the lines of “i love you” before drifting off himself.