Louis, 22, is Harry’s godfather and when Anne dies, he gets possesion of the boy. He recieves alot more than he asked for.
Prompt from one-larry-stylinson: Daddy!kink and/or ageplay. Happy writing :) <33
Harry’s somewhat of an accident that happens when Louis least expects it. He’s only 22 and he isn’t ready for the responsibility of a child, just a bachelor getting by with a mediocre job. He’s absolutely devastated when Anne dies, and he knows about her thirteen year old son and lack of family, with only himself as a lone godfather to the boy. It doesn’t hit him fully, though, until he gets a call from a lawyer with information on the custody he now has over Harry and Louis can’t do anything but accept, not willing to leave the boy all alone with people he doesn’t even know.
The time passes so quickly and before he knows it, Harry’s moving in and Louis’ nervous and he’s making sure the guest bedroom is clean and the boy will be comfortable. He doesn’t know what to expect when he hears a timid knock on the door of his flat, so he absentmindedly fixes his hair and throws the door open to see a boy he hasn’t seen in years.
He’s beautiful. Louis feels weird saying that, because he’s obviously young, but there’s no other way to describe the boy standing lankily in front of him. Despite the incredible sadness in his emerald eyes there’s a shine of something pure, and it’s perfect the way that his chocolate curls lay over them.
Louis isn’t quite sure if Harry remembers him, but he’s proven wrong when the boy barrels forward into his arms, burying his face into Louis’ chest and sobbing. For some reason it doesn’t feel wrong, holding the boy in his arms, murmuring reassurances in his smooth dark locks. Harry pulls back slightly and Louis is surprised by his own reluctance to let go, but he loosens his arms when he looks into red-rimmed eyes as Harry sniffles cutely.
“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Tomlinson. It’s just been rough few weeks.” Tears are leaking down his face again and Louis’ shirt is getting wet but he doesn’t want to be anywhere but here, embracing the shaking boy.
“It’s okay, Harry. It’s okay. I miss her too. ‘M gonna take care of you. Promise I’ll take care of you.” His voice is muffled, but Harry nods weakly as they begin a long, long summer.
Everything’s okay at first, the younger boy cries at night and Louis comforts him with loving arms and sweet nothings, but it all leads up to a Friday night, and Louis is just getting home from work and Harry’s having a particularly bad day. After fixing tea for them both he sits down on his bed and Harry plops down beside him, snuggling into his side, watching the telly mindlessly as Louis strokes his hair. They’ve been affectionate since day one, Louis providing security in every last way possible. Hours pass in what feels like minutes and before he knows it Harry’s breathing evenly against him, mouth hanging open slightly. Laughing slightly as not to wake the boy up he turns the bed lamp off and switches the movie, lying down gingerly, getting as comfortable as possible and closing his eyes.
A light whine drags him back from semi-consciousness, eyes snapping open to see a still sleeping Harry with his curls matted slightly against his head. His pale fingers are clutching onto Louis shirt for dear life, and Louis thinks maybe he should wake him up, but then he realizes the problem. Harry’s hard in his gray drawstring sweatpants and he’s searching unashamedly for friction, little sounds escaping his pink plush lips. With his hand that’s grasping Louis’ shirt, he pulls, bringing him closer so he can softly roll his hips against the older man’s thigh. He lets out a little breathless ‘yeah’ and Louis would be lying if he said he wasn’t guiltily getting a bit hard himself in his plaid pajama bottoms. He tries to maneuver out of the way, a hot flush crawling up his cheeks, but Harry’s grip on his shirt just gets tighter as he ruts his hips a bit faster. He can feel his member press against him hotly as he moves.
His breaths are coming out in gasps and Louis is so stiff in his pants it hurts, but it’s so wrong, and he feels like crying as Harry lets out an almost inaudible ‘Louis’ that makes his heart drop, as he slows to a stop. A small patch of wetness is forming on the smaller boy’s crotch and he collapses with his breath finally evening out again.
Louis still has a nagging problem, though, and with a heavy heart he snakes his hand into his bottoms and wraps a hand around his thickness pulling upwards without any thoughts in particular. But as he gets closer, his mind is slowly and inevitably filled with thoughts of pale skin and chocolate curls. When he imagines how fucking good Harry would look with Louis inside him, stretching him open, he comes hard with a cry that thankfully isn’t loud enough to wake the younger boy up.
He’s mortified when he sinks back into the fluffy pillows breathing so hard he’s afraid Harry will notice, and even after he finally settles down it takes him what feels like hours to fall into a sleep that’s filled with dimpled smiles and bright green eyes.
He doesn’t want to think about it, he really really doesn’t, but Harry keeps running around with those goddamn scoop neck shirts that show off his already perfect collarbones and it just isn’t fair. The boy’s finally coming out of his shell again, his smile appearing more often and Louis is so lucky to hear his beautiful laugh every time he makes a stupid joke.
And when he walks in on a scene that frequents in his dreams he knows he’s in trouble. He’s collecting laundry around the house, and he’s not thinking right when he busts into Harry’s room, walking in on the wicked boy with his legs spread open with two fingers inside himself. He’s making little desperate noises but the angle is all wrong, Louis can see how even his long fingers wouldn’t be able to reach his prostate at this position. The younger boy’s cheeks are flushed and Louis starts to stutter out an apology when he’s cut off by a pleading voice.
“L-Louis. Oh god, please help, can’t, ugh.” Harry tries to push back against his pale fingers and despite the guilt, a thread of pity and want thread its way through Louis’ heart and he takes a hesitant step forward, cocking his head. “Pleasepleaseplease,” The boy repeats it like a mantra, urging Louis forward with the hand that wasn’t currently fucking himself open with. He steps forward hesitantly, only speaking after he’s sitting on the bed.
“Baby, you’re doing it all wrong.” Harry gasps when Louis takes his hands and repositions them so he can get deeper. He shoves against his digits frantically but it’s still not enough.
“Can yo— I need help, can’t do it m’self.” He’s flushed so pink and he looks so pretty, his eyes shiny with lust. Louis only stalls for a minute, an internal battle warring in his head, but he obviously sides with his need, settling in between the boy’s legs. Louis gently removes his fingers provoking an empty whimper from the trembling body in front of him. Harry’s content though when he’s impaled by thicker, tanner digits, filling him so much better than his own. A moan escapes his lips when the drag and pull of fingers rocks him harder, the moans becoming screams as he expertly hits his prostate. The older of the two is unbearably hard in his pants and he has to steady his breathing as the tightness works up against his fingers. “Faster, faster daddy please.”
“Oh, fuck.” The words from Harry’s mouth give him a spark of reality but his body betrays him and he only gets stiffer in his trousers. The younger boy’s back arches as he comes, untouched, liquid spurting all over his pale torso as Louis continues to thrust his digits into him. His breaths are out of control and Louis feels like crying again, but Harry’s pouncing on him now, fingers fumbling with his zipper eagerly. “You really don’t have to do that, Harry. Honestly. ‘Sokay.” But he continues removing the pants as quickly as he can, looking so slutty yet so fucking innocent at the same time, his bright eyes contrasting with his frantic movements. Small hands are now cupping Louis through mere boxers and pure desire overtakes any leftover guilt.
“You’re so big,” Harry states in wonder, stopping to stare once his member is free. His plush lips are hanging open seductively and when his tongue runs over his bottom lip, Louis can’t help but lean forward and capture them. Light moans are captured in the passionate swirling of tongues, swallowed down by eager mouths. Harry pulls back but not without a tug on his lower lip from Louis’ teeth. He wraps his small milky fingers around Louis’ need and it gives an urgent throb evoking a pleased look from the smaller boy. Harry pulls slightly with his fingers barely fitting around the thickness. Louis is already lightheaded, lost in the way that tentative fingers jerks him slowly, and when the curly haired boy leans forward and kisses the tip softly he has to grasp the sheets below them to keep from reaching forward and fucking the boy’s sweet mouth relentlessly. He’s practically making out with the head of the older lad’s cock, his tongue dipping in the slit and collecting the pre-come. Louis can’t help but groan because he’s already so close from just teasing.
“H-Harry, baby, you’re so good. Too good. I’m gonna c—”
Harry responds quietly, almost shy, keeping his lips ghosted over the head of his erection, “Want it. Please. Need it, Daddy.” It’s the final ‘Daddy’ that makes Louis blow his load over and over again all over those swollen pink lips, and he feels himself having to keep from getting hard again at the sight as he licks them clean.
“I did good?” Harry asks with a smile and Louis just pulls him to his chest, sighing into loose smooth curls, murmuring praise into them.
As they fall asleep, Louis thinks he really isn’t sure he’s ever felt so bad about something so damn good.
A/N: Okay, I don’t know how I feel about this. I don’t know how you feel about this. I’ve never written anything this risqué and I’d really like some feedback on this one? And a Part Two might be in order? If you want it? Tell me here.