baby — one

You became his sugar baby to survive, but Harry’s possessiveness soon turns into something softer. The black card pays the bills, but it’s the unexpected love that threatens to ruin you both.

Author’s Note: Surprise! I’m posting Chapter 1 of Baby early so you guys can start requesting tags. This is a 10-part one-shot that I’m still finishing up over on Patreon (Part 8 goes up tomorrow!). I’ll start posting the remaining chapters here once the Patreon run is finished, but if you can’t wait to see what happens next, you can read ahead for $2 by joining my Patreon!

Rating: Explicit. 🔞 content. reader discretion is advised.

📌 Please consider joining my Patreon -> Patreon

📌 baby masterlist

📌 all of my work :)

📌 w.c -> 10k

The city looked better from forty stories up. From here, London was just a grid of amber lights and rain-slicked streets, silent and manageable. It was the only time Harry liked looking at it, when he was far enough away that he couldn't hear the noise.

Harry Styles adjusted the cuff of his shirt, the movement sharp and precise. His office was a cavern of glass and mahogany, smelling faintly of leather polish and the aged scotch sitting untouched in the crystal tumbler on his desk.

He stared at the spreadsheet on his monitor, but his focus was broken by the vibration of his phone against the wood. It buzzed like an angry insect.

Olivia.

His ex-wife.

Harry didn’t even blink. He simply reached out and silenced the call, flipping the device face down. She would be calling about the house in Surrey, or the alimony adjustment. He made a mental note to have his assistant handle it in the morning. He didn’t have the energy for the argument tonight.

He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the roughness of stubble against his palm. Forty-five years old. He had more money than he could spend in three lifetimes, but right now, all he felt was the throb of a headache behind his left eye.

A soft knock at the glass door made him look up.

"Harry?"

He suppressed a sigh, forcing his expression into something neutral. It was Camille. She was thirty-two, an art dealer he’d been seeing for three months. She was beautiful, intelligent, and currently, looking at him with an expectation he knew he couldn't meet.

She pushed the door open, balancing two takeout boxes from that Thai place she liked.

"I saw the light was still on," she said, stepping inside with a soft smile. She placed the food on the edge of his desk. She walked around to his chair, her hands finding his shoulders. "You’ve been here since seven this morning. You need to eat."

Harry sat still. He didn't lean into her touch, but he didn't pull away either. He just felt... heavy.

"I have another hour of work, Camille," he said, his voice low.

"It can wait," she murmured, her fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck. "Come on. Let’s go back to yours. We haven't had a proper night together in two weeks. I bought that lingerie set you liked...”

She leaned down, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It was sweet. It was domestic. And it made Harry feel absolutely suffocated.

He gently took her hand, removing it from his shoulder, and stood up.

"Camille," he said softly. He waited until she looked at him. "We need to stop."

She blinked, her smile faltering. "Stop working? I agree."

"No," Harry said. He kept his voice even, calm. "Us. This."

baby — masterlist

You became his sugar baby to survive, but Harry’s possessiveness soon turns into something softer. The black card pays the bills, but it’s the unexpected love that threatens to ruin you both.

TITLE: Baby

PAIRING: Harry Styles x Reader

RATING: Explicit (18+)

STATUS: 10 Parts 🌟 COMPLETED 🌟

WORD COUNT: > 25,000 words

TROPES: Corporate Sugar Daddy / University Student Sugar Baby , Age Gap (45 & 21) , Forced Closeness (The 40-Hour Weekend Rule) , Strict Contracts / NDAs , Size Difference , Wealth Gap , Dominant/Submissive Dynamic , Academic Mentorship

THE VIBE:

EXCERPT:

"Do you want to talk about poetry, Harry?" she asked, tilting her head. "Or do you want to get what you paid for?"

The words were a slap in the face.

Harry stopped moving. He looked at her naked body, and for the first time in his life, his desire warred with a crushing sense of shame.

"Don't say it like that," he said roughly.

"Like what?" She stepped closer, placing a hand on his chest. Her palm was warm, but her touch felt mechanical. She began to undo his buttons. "You were very clear, Harry. You pay for my time. You pay for my company. I'm just trying to be... efficient."

She pushed his shirt open and leaned in to kiss his neck. It was a practiced move. A move a courtesan would make.

"Y/N, stop," he said, grabbing her wrists.

She looked up, her eyes wide and innocent. "Stop? Is something wrong? Do you want me to do something else?"

"I want you to stop acting like an employee!" he shouted, the frustration finally boiling over.

Y/N didn't flinch. She just looked at him, and a small, sad smile touched her lips.

"But I am an employee, Harry," she whispered. "You fired the girlfriend. Remember?"

Harry stared at her, his chest heaving. He wanted to shake her. He wanted to scream that he hadn't fired the girlfriend, he had just panicked. He wanted to drag her downstairs and make her pasta and dance in the kitchen.

But the ghost of his own words hung between them. I am not your boyfriend.

He couldn't take them back. Not without admitting he was wrong. And Harry Styles did not admit he was wrong.

CONTENT:

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ruined silk

A jealous argument at a club explodes into a night of rough, possessive hate sex . But the tender aftercare that follows forces you both to admit there’s no going back .

author's note: just wanted to write something for you! i hope you enjoy! happy reading!

Rating: Explicit. 🔞 content. reader discretion is advised.

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📌 all of my work :)

📌 w.c -> 7.8k

Tom’s flat in Hackney always smelled the same before a night out: a distinct, heady mixture of expensive cologne, burnt hair straightener, and the sharp tang of cheap vodka mixed with lemonade.

You checked your reflection in the hallway mirror one last time, smoothing down the front of your dress. It was shorter than what you usually wore. It was a slip of black silk that ended dangerously high on your thighs and dipped low in the back. It was armor. Tonight was about feeling good. Tonight was about getting drunk enough to tolerate the inevitable headache that was currently sitting on Tom’s velvet sofa.

"You’re going to freeze," Cassie said, emerging from the bathroom with a cloud of hairspray following her. She looked you up and down, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "But you’re going to look hot doing it. I approve."

"I have a coat," you said, grabbing your leather jacket from the hook. "And I have tequila. I’ll be fine."

"Famous last words," Jay called out from the kitchen, raising a red solo cup in a mock toast.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, and walked into the living room.

The music was already thumping. It was some remix Tom had found that was rattling the windows, but the atmosphere shifted the second you stepped onto the rug.

Harry was sprawled on the sofa like he owned the building. He was wearing black trousers and a shirt that was unbuttoned halfway down his chest, exposing a chaotic roadmap of tattoos and the glint of a gold cross. His rings clicked against the glass of whiskey he was holding as he looked up.

He didn’t smile. He never smiled at you. Instead, his green eyes narrowed slightly, tracking you from the strap of your heels up to the curve of your hip, lingering on the hem of the dress before finally meeting your eyes.

The silence between you two was loud enough to drown out the bass.

"You’re late," Harry drawled, his voice rough. He didn't sit up. He just watched you with that heavy, lidded gaze that always made you feel like you had something on your face.

Sovereign Masterlist

SUMMARY: Prince Harry falls obsessed with the one girl who refuses to swoon. Y/N must survive a cruel court and a scandal to wear his crown. It is a romance of forbidden heat, witty banter, and finding a spine of steel.

PAIRING: Prince Harry x Reader (Y/N)

RATING: Mature (for heavy making out, heavy petting/touching)

STATUS: PART I - V. -> Completed

WORD COUNT: Approx. 22.4K words

TROPE: Royal AU, Regency Era, He Falls First, Protective Harry, Clumsy Reader, Touch Starved.

THE VIBE:

EXCERPT:

“You shouldn’t touch me like this in the corridor of a palace.”

“Then marry me,” he said, utterly unflinching. “And I’ll be able to touch you wherever I like.”

while she's away — one

When Scarlett gets stuck at home, Y/N is left alone in paradise with her best friend’s father. What starts as an awkward mistake quickly becomes something neither of them should want. **my bff's dad edit**

Author’s note: Here is the first chapter of another one of my Patreon-exclusive stories! I wanted to share a little preview so you could get a feel for it before deciding whether to subscribe. The rest of the story will remain available only and exclusively on Patreon. I hope you enjoy it

Tropes: best friend’s dad, forbidden romance, age gap, forced proximity, vacation tension, slow burn, guilty attraction, jealousy, “she’s off limits,” “we shouldn’t,” and one very dangerous week alone in paradise.

Word count: 16k

Y/N had known, from the very first week of freshman year, that she had chosen journalism for all the wrong reasons.

Not because she had some great, world-changing need to uncover the truth. Not because she had grown up watching reporters stand in the middle of storms and war zones with fearless eyes and perfectly placed hair, delivering breaking news as if the whole planet depended on their next sentence.

No.

Y/N had chosen journalism because, at eighteen, she had seen a woman on the evening news wearing a cream blazer, gold earrings, and the most confident red lipstick she had ever seen, and thought, I would like to look that powerful while holding a microphone.

That was it.

That was the entire foundation of her academic future.

By sophomore year, she had realised this was, perhaps, not the most emotionally stable way to pick a career. By junior year, she had stopped pretending she knew what she was doing at all. And now, with graduation becoming less of an abstract concept and more of a terrifying, fast-approaching event, Y/N had started to feel like her life was a group project where everyone else had read the instructions except her.

She liked writing. That part was true.

She liked people too, most of the time. From a safe distance. When they were not asking her what she planned to do after college.

But journalism, as a future, still felt like a dress she had bought online because it looked beautiful on the model and then refused to return because maybe, eventually, with enough confidence and better posture, it would fit.

There was one good thing the degree had given her, though.

Scarlett Styles.

Heavy hands Masterlist

Summary: A university student is pulled into the violent world of underground boxing and falls for Harry Styles, a cold, undefeated fighter whose secrets threaten to consume them both.

PAIRING: Harry Styles x Reader

RATING: Explicit (18+)

STATUS: 10 Parts (Completed)

WORD COUNT: 45,000

TROPES: Underground Fighter AU, Boxer Harry, Stubborn Reader, Situationship, Mutual Pining, Miscommunication, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Patching Him Up, Size Difference.

THE VIBE:

EXCERPT:

Harry didn't storm over. He didn't shove anyone or spill the drinks still balanced in his hands. He just moved—steady, silent, cutting through the crowd like a current of something cold.

When he reached them, the guy was mid-sentence, grinning as if he had a chance in hell.

"You alright, mate?" Harry asked coolly.

The stranger blinked, thrown off. "Yeah—just talking."

Harry didn't look at him again. His gaze was locked on Y/N like she was the only thing that existed. And then, softer—but sharp as broken glass:

"She's with me."

A beat. Still no heat in his voice. But it landed like a blade.

"Aren't you?"

Y/N couldn't breathe. For a second, she just stared. There was something lethal in the way he said it—not loud. Not threatening. But it shook something loose in her chest. In her stomach.

Because it wasn't a question, not really. And it wasn't a threat either. It was a claim. A warning. A promise.

...He tugged Y/N aside. Not violently—but not gently either. He was firm. Determined. Like he couldn't bear to wait another second.

They cut through the back of the club... into the quieter corridor beyond—bare concrete and the distant thrum of bass behind them.

Then he stopped. Back to the wall. Breathing hard, but silent.

"You want him instead?" His voice was low. Shaky in the edges. "Say it. If you do—I'll walk away."

She blinked, stunned.

"But don't let me stand there," he continued, his voice cracking just once, "and watch you laugh like that for someone else. Not when I've had you under me."

...Harry looked away first. Jaw clenched. A muscle in his cheek ticked as he shook his head slowly.

"I don't share," he muttered. "And I don't do this."

Y/N's breath hitched. Her skin was hot. Her body tense.

"But then there's you." His eyes were dark now. Not sweet. Not soft. Possessive. "You make me want to kill a man just for standing too close."

He stepped in. Just enough to crowd her. To make her tilt her chin up.

"I don't share. Not your time. Not your laugh. Not your body."

He didn't touch her. But it didn't matter. Her thighs pressed together instinctively. Her breath faltered.

"I don't know what the fuck you've done to me," he muttered. "But I know I'll burn for it."

CONTENT:

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baby — eight

You became his sugar baby to survive, but Harry’s possessiveness soon turns into something softer. The black card pays the bills, but it’s the unexpected love that threatens to ruin you both.

A/N: Hello everyone! Here is a new chapter! let me know if you liked it!

Rating: Explicit. 🔞 content. reader discretion is advised.

📌 Please consider joining my Patreon -> Patreon

📌 baby’s masterlist

taglist: @mysunflowerposts, @marinrscomplex, @ashloveshockey, @fkingstyles, @lillefroe, @satellitelh, @viamoree, @pizzadragono7, @buckyssbestgirl, @dumbandp03tic, @cathedralnoise, @namelesssav, @love-letters-to-uranus, @linabobinaa, @friggadotior0212, @i-got-the-cinema, @ghostlyscene13, @aileen1237, @piscesweetheart, @girlbloggerlg, @storiesinthestars15, @iheartfineline, @alriguess, @lichi-dunkera

The silence in the house was thick and heavy, but it was no longer cold. The morning light hit the ceiling in pale strips that slowly shifted into a warm gold as the sun finally crested over.

Y/N opened her eyes. The weight of Harry's arm kept her pinned flush against his bare chest. He was already awake, but his breathing was slow and deep. He was not tense. He felt completely relaxed, wrapped around her like she was the only thing anchoring him to the bed.

She shifted, trying to stretch her legs beneath the heavy duvet. His arm tightened instinctively, pulling her back until there was not a single inch of space between them.

"You are thinking too loud," Harry murmured. His voice was a low, gravelly vibration against her spine.

"It is Saturday," she whispered, smiling against the pillow. "I am just not used to it being so quiet."

"You will get used to it." He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply. "Just us."

Y/N rolled over within his grip to face him. His curls were a chaotic mess on the white pillow. His green eyes were soft and hazy, completely stripped of the Vanguard Managing Director mask. He just looked like Harry. The sunlight caught in his eyes, making them look warm and unguarded.

She reached out, her fingers gently pushing a heavy curl away from his forehead. Harry leaned into her touch, closing his eyes for a brief second.

"You are staring," he whispered, his lips curving into a lazy smile.

"I am allowed to stare," she teased, tracing the line of his jaw down to his collarbone. "I live here now. It is in the fine print."

Harry let out a soft, genuine laugh. It was a rich, warm sound that filled the quiet space between them. He caught her hand, pressing a long, lingering kiss to her palm before resting it flat against his chest, right over his heart.

"Did my dad call?" she asked, her thumb stroking the smooth skin above his ink.

"Arthur texted at six," Harry murmured, his eyes tracking the movement of her hand. "I told him you were safe and that I was not letting you out of my sight today. He told me to feed you properly before noon."

triage

Y/N is a doctor. Harry is the patient with the mysterious wounds she shouldn't ignore. She helps him anyway. Now, he is here to pay her back.

Author's note: Hello lovies, I hope you are all doing well! This was written based on a post uploaded by @hesbunnies. Therefore, all credit for this idea goes to her. I added a few things to make it a bit more interesting. I hope I made it justice. let me know!

🚨Warning: contains graphic smut, depictions of physical violence/aftermath of domestic abuse, and dark/possessive behavior.

📌 Please consider joining my Patreon -> Patreon

📌 all of my works ;)

📌word count -> 7.5k

The clock on the wall of Trauma Room Three hummed with a low and electric buzz that seemed to drill directly into Y/N’s skull.

It was 3:17 AM.

She had been on her feet for twenty hours. The coffee she had consumed at midnight had long since worn off, leaving behind a jittery exhaustion that made her hands feel heavy and her eyelids feel like sandpaper.

The emergency room was in a lull. The drunk from the pub brawl had been stitched up and sent home. The kid with the fever had been admitted to pediatrics. For a brief and miraculous moment, there was silence.

Y/N leaned back against the counter and closed her eyes. She just needed five minutes.

The double doors of the ambulance bay burst open.

The silence shattered.

"We need a doctor!" a deep voice bellowed.

Y/N snapped her eyes open and pushed off the counter. Her body moved on autopilot, drilled by four years of medical school and six months of brutal residency. She stepped into the hallway.

Three men were stumbling toward the trauma bay. The two on the outside were massive, built like brick walls in cheap leather jackets. The man in the middle was different.

He was wearing a black suit that had probably cost more than Y/N’s entire student loan debt. His white shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest, and the fabric was soaked through with a dark and spreading stain of red.

He wasn't stumbling because he was drunk. He was stumbling because he was losing blood.

The head nurse, Gwen, took one look at the trio and froze. She saw the tattoos on the neck of the man on the left. She saw the suspicious bulge under the jacket of the man on the right. She backed away, her face pale.

"I am not touching them," Gwen whispered. "That is gang violence. I am calling security."

"No," Y/N said. Her voice was calm. It was the numbness of exhaustion. "If you call security, they will start shooting. Just get me a suture kit and two units of O negative."

She walked forward. She didn't look at the bodyguards. She looked straight at the man in the middle.

She didn't know his name, but she knew his type. Dangerous. Wealthy. And currently dying in her hallway.

"Room Three," she commanded, pointing to the open door. "Get him on the bed."

The bodyguards hesitated. They looked at the man in the suit for permission.

The stranger lifted his head. His skin was grey and clammy, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. But his eyes were green and startlingly alert. He gave a sharp nod.

They hauled him into the room and deposited him on the gurney.

"Out," Y/N said to the guards.

"We stay with him," one of them growled.

"You stay and you are in my way," Y/N said. She snapped on a pair of blue latex gloves. "He has a laceration to the abdomen and he is losing blood pressure. Do you want him to bleed out because you were blocking my light? Get. Out."