#mpreg harry

HOKAY, so I'll cheat and start you off with some fest lists, lots of gold in them thar hills:

@momrryfest2020, that was me! And here's a list of amazing fic from it

@momrryficfest, that is not me! But it's a tradition I love seeing continue, and here's a list of fic from 2022, you should follow to see what's to come in 2023

@motorboatrryfest2021, that was me! And here's a list of amazing fic from it (mostly lactation kink)

Here are some links to previous rec lists, both from me and from the amazing @bottomharrykingdom:

Mommy milkers request

Lactation kink request

Mpreg request

BHK mpreg list

...and finally, here are a smattering that to the best of my knowledge are NOT on those lists, but, again, I know there are more out there, happy hunting!

I Won't Tell a Single Soul How You Spend Your Nights, onlylearsfool, 530 wds

'Ere comes the milk, stretchmybones, 1.1k

as if life were invented for my love, daffodilsforlou, 3.5k

Baby Blues, kingsofeverything, 11.9k

This chemistry like candy to me, cuckootrooke, 35k

Loved By Your Mother, superglass, 31k

But that night, he’d let his jealousy get the best of him. He’d woven his way through the crowd on the dance floor, pushed himself between Louis and the man he’d been dancing with, and had led Louis out of the club and back to Louis’ apartment. In the sobering light of morning, Harry’d slipped out, and he’s avoided Louis ever since.

Now, here he is, past the three month mark, finally not nauseous twenty-four hours a day, finally able to get by on eight hours of sleep a night instead of needing twelve to feel normal, finally able to feel the little bulge of his growing uterus if he presses under his belly button while laying flat on his back, and finally about to tell Louis.

This all might’ve been easier if Harry hadn’t completely freaked out about sleeping with Louis by blocking his number and deleting his contact info. He could’ve called Louis’ office and made an appointment, but he would’ve chickened out. Instead, he’s decided to do this on a sort of cold call. It was either drop by Louis’ apartment unannounced or show up at Louis’ office unannounced, and since there are other people at Louis’ office, Harry went with the more public option. Makes it less likely that Louis will slam the door in his face.

Not that Louis is the type of person to do that. Louis probably isn’t even the type of person to check the peephole, see it’s Harry, and ignore his knock.

Harry takes a deep breath, smoothing the fabric of his billowy babydoll blouse, and opens the door.

“Hello, how—” Zayn cuts himself off, licking his lips as he looks Harry up and down, then he smiles, lips pressed together, and asks, “Do you have an appointment?”

“No.” Shaking his head, Harry takes a glance at the analog clock on the wall behind Zayn. Five minutes to five. Just the way he planned. Harry clears his throat, and says, “I was hoping to catch him before he leaves. Is he still—”

“Harry?” Louis’ voice cracks, and he looks down, tugging on his white lab coat. “What are you…”

“I need to talk to you,” Harry says, heart sinking when Louis doesn’t meet his eyes. “It’ll only take a minute.”

Louis nods towards his private office, and Harry gives Zayn a halfhearted smile before walking through the waiting room doorway. Handsome to the point of unfairness with his jeans and vintage Pink Floyd t-shirt under his lab coat, Louis seems more like a college chemistry student than a dentist, but that’s part of his charm.

He’s a bundle of contradictions. A dentist who smokes like a chimney, but only after work and on weekends, and never inside his apartment or his car. A man who lives off takeout and fast food and hates to cook, but took lessons because (Louis’ words) his future spouse might prefer home cooked meals during and after their heats. An Alpha who claims he’s never been interested in playing the field, instead spending his twenties focused on his education and building his business.

Harry tries not to look pregnant as he passes Louis, and takes a seat across from his desk. Crossing his ankles, Harry tucks his feet under the chair, and laces his fingers together in his lap, studying them while Louis closes the door and sits in his comfy leather chair. There was a time when Harry would’ve gone around the desk to sit on Louis’ lap.

“What’s up, Harry?” Louis asks, picking up a pen and clicking the button quickly three times.

Swallowing hard, Harry closes his eyes and nods, but the words won’t come. He blinks rapidly, eyes burning, face growing hotter the longer his mouth stays shut. I’m pregnant. It’s yours. I’m sorry. His thoughts are interrupted by Louis’ heavy sigh.

“Do I need to get tested?” Louis asks, and Harry frowns, jerking backwards slightly. “I mean, I got tested after, you know, last time. But that was months ago.”

“I don’t understand,” Harry says, pinching and pulling his lip.

When Harry had his first appointment with his obstetrician and left the space for Alpha blank on his intake form, he was given a pamphlet on paternity testing, which apparently can be done as early as the first trimester by analyzing the fetal DNA in Harry’s own blood and comparing it to the other father’s DNA from a simple cheek swab. But his obstetrician wouldn’t do a paternity test without telling him. “Oh! Oh, no. No. Not… I mean, yes. You should get tested whenever you… you want. Regularly. But that’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why are you here?” Louis asks, dropping his pen and pushing his chair away from his desk, leaning back in it as if to get further away from Harry.

Flustered at his confusion and annoyed at how increasingly stupid he’s felt throughout his pregnancy so far, Harry bursts into tears, and blurts out, “I’m yours! It’s pregnant! I’m sorry!”

At least he got the last part right.

“You— You’re—” Louis jumps out of his chair, sending it crashing into the shelf behind him as he asks, “It’s mine?”

Nodding, Harry takes a calming breath, and says, “I’m sorry.”

“Harry, I—” Louis shakes his head, pulling his chair closer to the desk. He rakes his fingers through his hair, and says, “I haven't seen you in months.”

Somehow, in all of his worrying about telling Louis, Harry never considered that as a possible response. “Three months.”

“Three—” Louis glances over at the closed door, and lowers his voice. “You’re three months pregnant? And it’s mine?”

Something about the repetition shakes Harry, and his thoughts coalesce, making it possible for him to speak coherently at last. “‘It’ is a baby. And yes, ‘it’ shares your DNA.”

“Harry, don’t— don’t talk like that,” Louis says, frowning and rubbing at the lines on his forehead. “I didn't mean— I don’t— Why didn’t you tell me?”

Squaring his shoulders, Harry lifts his chin, and says, “I didn't want you to try to influence me. I wanted to decide whether or not to keep the baby without you or anybody else telling me what to think or what to feel.”

“I wouldn’t—” Louis stops and shakes his head, then quietly asks, “What did you decide?”

Harry looks down at his stomach, at the bump that hasn’t popped yet, and says, “I’m due in December. And I’m keeping the baby.”

“Harry, I— I’m— Can I—” Louis lets loose a loud laugh, and hides his face in his hands. “Sorry. Don’t know where that laugh came from. This is all a little overwhelming.”

“I understand,” Harry says, squeezing his eyes shut and wishing away the tears. “I just wanted to tell you. You, um… You deserve to know.”

“I wish you’d told me when you found out,” Louis says softly, reaching across the desk, then pulling his hand back.

“I explained that I—”

“Harry, what about me made you think I’d be anything but thrilled about this?” Louis points at Harry’s stomach, and says, “I’ve always wanted kids. And I—”

“Not like this!” Harry loudly interrupts, holding a hand to his belly. “I… I broke up with you. I was horrible to you! I left… I left you.”

Louis shrugs one shoulder and tilts his head to the side. “I can still be a dad, even if you don’t want to be with me.”

For a long moment, Harry watches him, then quietly says, “Do you want to see a picture?”

“Of the baby?” Louis asks, eyes going wide.

“It’s from the first ultrasound,” Harry says, unzipping his purse, and finding the creased printout his obstetrician gave him a few weeks back. He sets it on the desk, and pushes it across to Louis. “Looks like a bean, I think.”

“Like a tiny shrimp,” Louis says, squinting at the picture before putting on his glasses. He studies it for a minute, then passes it back. “Do you want to— I’m not— I don’t want you to think I’m asking you on a date.”

“Hmm?” Harry pouts, going over Louis’ words as he slips the ultrasound picture back into his purse. “A date?”

“I was going to ask if you’d like to go somewhere. Have a drink. Well, not a drink, but coffee? Or not coffee. Caffeine’s not good, right? It’s been so long since I’ve been around a pregnant person,” Louis mutters that last bit almost like he’s talking to himself, then he meets Harry’s gaze, and says, “I wanted to ask if you’d like to talk more someplace more… comfortable? A restaurant? Anywhere, really.”

“But not as a date,” Harry says just to be sure.

“I know you’re not interested in me like that, Harry,” Louis says with a sigh that threatens to break Harry’s already fragile heart. “But yeah, I’d like to talk more. Maybe somewhere my office manager isn’t listening in from the other side of the door.”

There’s a shuffling sound followed by a bump and a quiet curse, and Harry barks a laugh. “Okay. There’s that new smoothie place near here. Do you like smoothies?”

“Never had one,” Louis admits with a grin. “Do you like milkshakes?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, catching his lower lip between his teeth.

“Want to meet me at that ice cream shop?” Louis asks, standing and quickly removing his lab coat. “You know the one we went to with the weird cartoon sundae?”