Harry Styles Shorts and One Shots

One Shot: Jealousy **

Word Count: 2,800+
TW: SUBRRY. Lots of subrry stuff.
Mean Y/N Dom. Smut

Harry

There's nothing I love more than my wife. She's absolutely perfect in every single way; one of the many reasons I married her. Her only 'flaw' is that she's incredibly jealous just like me. But doing what I do, I kind of can't help who throws themselves at me. The only thing I do control is how I react.

Y/N has been particularly uptight ever since I started a PR stunt with an actress in Hollywood to gain traction for our upcoming movie that I star in and she directs. We're always seen holding hands in our pap pictures, but never anything more. I understand Y/N completely. I'd be the same way if I saw another man touching her and acting like he's with her.

Knowing that I have to be photographed kissing my fake girlfriend today makes me incredibly nervous. I haven't told Y/N because I know she'll freak. Hopefully I can just prevent her from seeing the pictures, but how? They're going to be everywhere since everyone is always trying to prove that our relationship is in fact fake.

"Are you ready?" Alyssa, my faux lover asks.

I nod, shifting in my chair outside of the café. "Y/N is gonna flip."

She rolls her eyes. "Who the fuck cares? It's not real. You kiss and do a lot dirtier things in the movie."

"True," I chuckle. "But this is different. This is very public and people think it's real. Everyone just thinks that Y/N is a crew member."

Alyssa shrugs. "That's part of dating a celebrity. Your life isn't going to be exactly as you want it."

I don't appreciate her matter-of-fact words, especially when they pertain to Y/N, but I just brush it off, wanting to get the kiss over with.

My body leans forward, my hand gripping the side of her face as our lips press together. All I do is picture Y/N and the soft fullness of hers. When my tongue meets Alyssa's, I imagine it's my beautiful wife instead. Her damned eyes that can make me come undone with one simple flash of the 'fuck me' gaze. I love when she looks at me like that.

We part faces, both of us smiling wide at each other.

"You're a damn good kisser, Styles. Wasn't expecting the tongue."

I chuckle. "Just wanted it to be realistic."

My eyes subtly sweep over to where our paparazzi person is stashed, seeing the thumbs up of approval from him. God, I'm nervous as hell to go home tonight after that.

Walking in the door of my house, the aroma of food being cooked hits my nose, making my stomach turn with hunger. I've scarcely eaten today, because I have barely had the time for anything other than PR walks.

"Hi, baby," I hear from the kitchen.

My face splits with a large grin as I walk towards the voice of my wife, seeing her cooking with an apron tied around her neck and waist. She's thrown her hair up into a messy bun, and her makeup is fully done up on her face.

"Hey," I kiss her cheek from behind as I wrap my arms around her midsection. "Why are you all dolled up?"

She chuckles. "Just wanted to look good for you."

Y/N seems like she's in a good mood, so I'm assuming that she hasn't seen the pictures. Thank god.

"You look good all the time. You don't need to do your makeup, darling."

She turns to me, wrapping her arms around my neck. "You don't like it?"

I run my nose along the length of hers. "I love it." My lips lean to press against hers but she turns, making my heart sink. Fuck. She saw.