In which you've got textbook daddy issues and when your tool of a younger brother brings a sweet doe eyed girlfriend home for Thanksgiving and you end up offering her a ride home, you meet just the man to fix them.
Warning: smut, daddy kink, age gap...
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About a month had passed since that very eventful evening. Harry was right, nothing could take away from the joy having told each other "I love you" had brought. Not even all the chaos that had led up to that point.
Looking back, you remembered none of the bad stuff. You'd been on cloud nine, ever since. Harry wouldn't even discuss you going back to live in another city when you could work remotely just fine, and in truth you didn't want to go live 2 hours away from him either. So, at his suggestion, you'd been practically living together ever since that day, more or less straight out of your already impromptu California bag. You didn't even go back once to your place to get more of your stuff, but you hadn't needed anything since you were working from home and barely put on any clothes to begin with.
The two of you were acting as though you were on your honeymoon. That's what it felt like. You'd had a trial run on your trip together but this was something else entirely. Harry sometimes worked from home but mostly he had to go in office, and on site to various projects he was overlooking, and when he'd come back home you felt your heart swell. You'd never imagined you could enjoy this domestic angle to a relationship. But you loved waiting for him to come back home to you. You missed him as soon as he left out the door and couldn't wait to see him come back to you. You were someone who normally valued alone time a lot, but with Harry you never felt smothered or like you needed time to yourself. You knew it was healthy to spend time apart but you weren't yet ready to share him with the outside world. You felt it was unfair the two of you had to work when you had much more important stuff to do, like making love all day.
Harry of course was over the moon to have you all to himself. He loved throwing his briefcase on the dining room table when he got back from work, even when you were already on the couch next to it, and yelling "Honey, I'm home!", the biggest, brightest grin on his face. To which you'd respond in various ways, his favourite seemingly the one where you hitched up the already skimpy piece of clothing you would lounge around the house in, spreading your thighs widely and revealing your naked core to him, and saying "Nuh-huh, daddy. Here's your home, balls deep inside me".
Harry went feral the first time you pulled that stunt on him.
You even spent Valentine's tucked away from the world as well. Harry kept you in bed all day. He started by having his own "breakfast" in bed. Then he brought you your (actual) breakfast in bed, on a proper tray and everything, even adorned with a singular dwarf sunflower and insisted on spoon feeding you and also that you don't cover your breasts while you eat so that he can lick trails of strawberry jam off your nipples.
Then, needles to say you were all sticky and you had to take a shower together so he could make sure you're squeaky clean, but only after he fucked you silly and let you have your own sticky desert at the end. You then got back in bed and Harry rested his head in your lap (he still insisted you don't cover your breasts with the bedsheet) reading poetry out loud to you from his favourite author, he'd underlined his copy all week in preparation. You just carded your fingers through his curls and looked at him dreamily, enjoying the slow cadence of his deep voice and that's how you fell asleep in the afternoon, him mouthing at your breasts to his heart's content.
