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erodasfishtacos · 2 years

Note

Has anxious Ezra ever been told to go to his room or had to sit on the steps?

The Step

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Ezra had woken up the morning with a chip on his little four-year-old shoulder which rarely even happens - much more common with Cash or Easton.

They had to get up much earlier than usual because they were going to travel with Harry to a game across the coast via private jet.

He had popped in a few minutes earlier to rouse the grumbling little gremlin.

When Harry had walked into his room that morning for a second time, voice low and soothing, he murmurs, “G’mornin’, sweetheart. Did you sleep good?”

Their youngest son who was still laying in his bed, but freshly woken - pinches his brows and lisps out a harsh, “Want mama. Want t’sleep.”

Harry rarely ever has to scold or correct Ezra, Jesus, Briar was two and he had to tell her to cut it out and drop the attitude more than him.

“Mama is downstairs making breakfast, c’mon. We can go see her,” Harry keeps his tone soft, trailing over to sit on the side of his son’s bed.

“No! Mama now! I want mama now!” Ezra demands in a frustrated voice that Harry doesn’t hear usually unless he’s fighting with his siblings.

“Whoa, Ez,” Harry huffs out in surprise, “Why are you yellin’ at y’daddy? I told you mama is right downstairs, she’s cooking for you and your siblings. I know it’s early but we have to get going soon.”

Ezra whines loudly, scrambling out of his bed and starting to scamper down the upstairs hallway towards where the stairs.

Harry follows after him, a bit taken aback but has to raise his voice when he sees Ezra about to take the stairs too fast.

“Ezra Duke. Do not run on those stairs,” He uses his dad tone, worried that he could trip and fall - all the kids knew that rule.

His youngest pauses at his father’s loud timbre, eyes wide and surprised - not used to be on the receiving end of his father’s correction.

He goes slower, holding onto the railing but he says to his father, “Too loud, daddy. Be quiet.”

Harry hums thoughtfully, striding down the stairs and cutting Ezra off - so he can get to the landing first and look up at him.

“Wha’ has gotten into you, hm? Just ‘cause you’re sleepy doesn’t mean you can be unkind,” He asks his son, trying to taper down his smile at the absolute pout that crosses his small face.

Ezra doesn’t say anything, shaking his head defiantly.

“You do not tell daddy to be quiet when he’s trying to keep you safe,” Harry reminds him with a firm tone - he can hear all his other kids having fun in the kitchen, “Okay, Ezra?”

“No,” He rebukes, ducking under his father’s tattooed arm and scuttling into the kitchen to wrap himself around his mother’s leg.

“Hi, my little love,” YN greets, flipping a pancake and reaching down to smooth his out of control curls with her palm.

“Hold me,” He whimpers, tugging on her leggings impatiently.

“Not right now, I’m cooking, baby,” She tells him gently, “We can have a cuddle after breakfast.”

All the other kids are sat at the breakfast nook already - Briar in her high chair, drinking out of her sippy cup and the other two boys looking through a dinosaur book.

“Now mama,” Ezra screeches, he pulls back his tiny hand and smacks his mother on her thigh, too little to hurt but he knew instantly it was wrong.

Harry isn’t happy with him, striding over to their youngest son with a displeased look on his face - ignoring Cash whine, “Ez hit mama! That’s bad!”

“Ezra Duke. I know you didn’t just hit your mama,” YN stares down at him with her own mixture of surprise and disapproval at his actions.

“Sor-mama, sorr-“ He starts to sniffle and then he starts to cry - he rubs his hand against the spot he smacked as an apology.

Easton and Cash weren’t even looking at them, they were looking at their dad with wide eyes - waiting for his reaction.

All the children, even Briar, knew hurting someone was not right and would get them in trouble either on the step or in their room.

“I think he did just hit his mother,” Harry cuts in, low and authoritative, “And we never hit anyone. Especially not the person who takes care of you and loves you s’much.”

“Dad-“ Ezra tries to protest, wrapping himself back around his mother’s legs, digging his face into her warm skin.

As much as Harry hates to put Ezra on the step, for the first time, he has to treat all of his children equally when they’re in trouble.

“Step, now.”

“Daddy, plea-“

“On the step, now please,” Harry interrupts, aware of all his other children’s gaze on him,“You are at ten minutes right now, I will add more time if you don’t listen.”

Normally step time is their age but for things like hitting - they automatically get ten.

Ezra drags his small feet through the kitchen with his head down, not looking at anyone, and Harry follows after him as he plops his bum on the bottom stair.

“I’m going to set my timer for ten minutes,” He tells his son, tapping at his phone before putting it back in his hoodie pocket.

“No daddy! No! No!”

And then Harry stands patiently by his son, listens and watches as he tantrums for only a mere minute before calming back down and rubbing his eyes.

By the time the alarm goes off, Ezra’s eyes are drowsy and he let’s out a big yawn - doesn’t even go to get off the steps.

Harry sits next to him, pulling him into the cradle of his strong arms, “Why did y’go on the step?”

Ezra makes a low hurt sound before lisping out, “I smacked mama.”

“And why don’t we hit people?” His father prompts.

“Because it makes them sad and it hurts them,” Ezra says forlornly, nuzzling into his father’s chest.

“Right,” Harry agrees quietly, tugging him as close as possible, “We love you s’much, Ezzie. Everyone makes mistakes but we just has to be kind. Your still our perfect boy.”

Ezra sniffles and nods against him, allowing his body to relax and Harry can’t help but hold him for a long moment.

And when he goes to encourage his son to go get breakfast, he looks down to see his son asleep peacefully in his arms.

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

Better Than We Had

prompt ( from a kofi donation) : “When the twins are old enough to be in school, if they choose to do public schooling, one of the kids says something inappropriate (repeating from one of the parents) and H finds it funny but the missus dosent. “

warnings: guns, violence, blood

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If you enjoyed please please reblog, like, comment, recommend or inbox me to chat about the fic!

YN had cooked dinner as Harry took care of some…business at one of their warehouses (killing three men to secure at lucrative deal with an Italian afflite.)

Harry is in the door right as the plates are placed in front of their twins at the dining room table - one of their favorite meals of chicken parmigiana.

The two had just come home from school a few hours ago, they had just transitioned to full days for kindergarten at their primary school.

“H,” YN murmurs as they both take one of their kids plates to cut up their food in more manageable pieces.

Harry looks up from his daughter’s peppa pig plate to see his wife motion toward the corner of his face to wipe it.

He uses the edge of his black tee to swipe off the blood splatter from his close range shot to Jianna’s head- missed a spot.

Beau greedily begins digging into his plate without his fork, fingers messy as he chows down on his chicken.

“C’mon, baby. Use your fork,” YN encourages, nudging at him to pick up his fork - he does with a little grumble.

Olive giggles at her brother, at him getting trouble as she eats properly with her cutlery like the prim little princess she is.

“Asshole,” Beau says towards his sister, poutingdown at his plate.

Harry and YN’s gazes meet, wide eyed and taken aback by their son’s curse word.

Despite Harry literally being the most infamous criminal in Europe - his children were quite sheltered and they didn’t cuss (much) in front of their children.

Harry barks out a laugh, finding it quite comical - he asks his son, “What’d y’just say, bub?”

“Asshole,” Beau shrugs, slurping a noodle, “Noah taught me it at school!”

YN bites her lip, giving her husband a sharp look as he cackles loudly, “Baby, did y-you just hear him?”

“I don’t know why you think it’s funny,” She retorts, not amused whatsoever, “I don’t think it’s funny that our child has been taught that word.”

“S’fine, brat. I’ve been swearing like a sailor since I could speak,” He replies, trying to keep a serious face as Beau blinks at Olive and says again, “Asshole.”

“And you turned out just great,” YN bites sarcastically before turning to Beau, “We do not say that. It is not a nice word. If I hear you say it again, you’re going in the time out.”

“Turned out good enough tha’ y’wanted m’babies,” He returns with just as much annoyance - god, it was funny and she was being a buzzkill.

Beau whimpers at being reprimanded, he didn’t handle it as well as his sister could, big fat tears start forming at the corner of his eyes.

“Look,” Harry grunts, irritated as he nods towards his son, “Now y’made him cry, s’just a bloody word. It’s not like he killed someone. S’ridicolous.”

The irony wasn’t lost.

“Mummy, mumma,” Beau drops his fork, messy hands and cheeks as he slips off his chair and into his mother’s lap - nuzzling at her apologetically.

“It’s not ridiculous. I am attempting to raise respectful, kind children. It’s obvious you don’t care about that,” She says it because she knows it will make him furious - it works.

YN had kisses Beau’s curly locks and places him back on his seat to finish eating before storming out of the room.

They agreed to never fight in front of the kids.

Harry makes sure Olive is settled with her meal before he follows her into the kitchen where she is aiming a plate at his head.

He laughs with exasperation, eyebrow raised,“Y’wont actually do it, all bark and no bite. C’mon angel, throw it at me. You’ll be bent over the counter before you can squeal.”

Of course she wasn’t going to throw it at him but old habits die hard - instead she tosses it into the sink with enough force it cracks.

“You need t’apologize to me,” Harry demands, stepping in closer so that the kids aren’t able to hear their tense words.

She scoffs which makes Harry’s hair prickle in irritation, “For what? Being a good parent.”

“M’a good parent too,” Harry retorts defensively, he was a cocky bastard about damn near everything but there was an underlying feeling of not being a good enough dad (even though he was actually amazing).

“Then act like it, dickhead,” YN huffs, busying herself with storing away the leftovers and pointedly not making eye contact.

“Tha’s fuckin’ low. I am, just because I think s’funny he said asshole? Jesus, he just turned six - he’ll forget the word by tomorrow,” He reasons, it was the truth - six year olds had the memory of a fucking goldfish.

“I’m just saying, I’d rather our children be raised the right way. I’m sorry I take parenting seriously.”

Harry isn’t sensitive - well, he wasn’t until he met his wife. Life was easier when he didn’t feel any emotion other than anger and hatred.

Right now… he thinks he feels sad?

He isn’t the perfect parent, he’s the leader of the biggest gang in Europe, kills an average of at least two people on a slow week, and is responsible for most of the guns and drugs transported into the country.

But he loved his babies and he wanted to give them the life he never had growing up - he takes parenting serious every second of the day.

His life went to revolving around his wants and desires to whatever he has to do to make his baby boy and girl happy, safe, and healthy.

Harry getting upset, well it triggers him to get angry, and he’s trying to not lose it on his wife because he knows she’s just frustrated too.

“I know m’not fuckin’ perfect but don’t you dare accuse me of not taking parenting seriously. You know how I grew up and how shitty it was. M’still fuckin’ learning!” He can’t help the way his pitch rises - impulse control never been sometime he could get a handle on.

He continues, “If I wasn’t serious, I wouldn’t spend nearly three million pounds a year in bloody security just for them to be safe. I would-“

“Daddy, m’full,” Olive appears in the entryway, oblivious to her parents argument, “Will you watch Tangled with me?”

Harry decides that he’s done with their conversation anyways, giving his wife one finally dirty glare before following his daughter into their living room.

YN doesn’t missed how he gives her the middle finger before rounding the corner.

YN preps the kids pajamas and begins to run the tub after cleaning up dinner, still irked but not as livid as before.

She sneaks into the room to watch her family for a moment before she interrupts them to prepare for bath time.

“No, baby love. Y’so so much pretty than Rapunzel,” Harry is murmuring to Olive who is tucked neatly into her dad’s side with her legs draped over his lap.

It was quite comical. To see Harry like this.

“God, no wonder you don’t have a girlfriend,” YN spits at him, wiping her bloody lip as she backs away from him, “Fuckin’ bastard.”

Harry smirks at her, licking the blood off his thumb,“Never will anyways. Why the fuck would I get tied down? Just spend the rest of m’life getting random pussy.”

“And have a million different baby mama’s,” She retorts, baring her teeth when she reaches for her spilled purse and he kicks of out of her reach.

“Fuck tha’. Never gonna have kids, waste of time and space. Fuckin’ kill me before tha’ happens,” Harry grunts, slipping YN’s phone into his back pocket.

That same man was sitting in their family home, long curls pulled into a bun, tattooed from his cheekbones to toes, a bit of dried blood on his shirt from the men he just killed, a gleaming wedding band in his finger, and two precious children who loved and adored their father cuddled up to him.

Beau huffs from his spot next to his dad, “No more of this singing! I want t’watch Toy Story!”

Olive leans around his father, giving her brother a dirty look before squeaking, “No! We watched that yesterday! Daddy said s’my turn!”

“Asshole,” Beau replies with a furrowed brow.

And YN watches from afar as Harry’s shoulders slump a bit, not laughing, and instead he sighs, “Alright, Beau. Y’heard y’mummy, she told you not to say that word, s’not kind. Y’getting a time-out.”

Beau’s face drops in devastation, whimpering, “No no no, daddy! M’sorry! I won’t say it again!”

Harry’s stays firm, situating a grumbling Olive onto the couch and standing to to lead Beau to the kitchen where he points him to a chair.

“Six minutes, okay?” He always struggles with disiplining his kids.

You would think the big bad gang leader would be tough, no nonsense but not him in the slightest - he felt guilty because he didn’t want to be the type of parent that he had growing up.

“Daddy, please,” Beau cries angrily, plopping down the chair and crossing his arms tightly across his chest.

“M’setting it on m’phone, keep your bum on there. I’ll be back,” He tells his son, he can’t help but soothe his hand through his son’s curls before he leaves the room.

YN watches as he returns from the kitchen, standing right outside of the entrance - she can see the sadness on his face as he listens to his son.

“Daddy, no!”

“I don’t want a time-out!”

“Mummy!”

The wails, “Daddy!”

She can’t help but trail over to her husband, cupping his face and catching his gaze - she can visible see his annoyance with her right now but he doesn’t pull away, never pulls away from his wife.

“I’m sorry,” YN murmurs softly, pressing her lips to her husbands - she half expects him to give her a lackluster returning kiss but again, he’s not like that.

Despite his anger, he buttons their lips together and kisses her back harshly - hands moving to her plushy hips to squeeze tightly.

YN pulls back, sheepish as she speaks, “I overreacted and I’m sorry. You’re the best daddy and you’re the best parent to my babies I could ask for. I just…I want them to turn out better than we both did, have better childhoods than us.”

“Don’t y’see tha’ they already do? They’re literally the happiest children I’ve ever met. S’cause we love them so so much and we love each other.”

“You love me even when I’m a jerk to you?” YN asks with a bit of self-deprication, hissing when he palms at her rough enough to sting.

“Y’been a bitch t’me from the second I met you. Yet y’still managed to get me fo buy y’a house, give you m’name, and fill y’up with my babies. You’re still a massive bitch and I’m so bloody in love with you.”

How romantic.

But really, YN did think it was.

“It’s gone awfully quite in there,” YN hums under her breath.

And she was right, Beau was no longer whining and tantruming which was unusual because he usually fussed the whole time he was in time out.

Harry puts a finger to his lips and they quietly tiptoes into the kitchen - where Beau is no longer in his chair despite the timer not going off yet.

They hear a giggling from the other side of the room, the parents look over to see the door open with Olive and Beau sitting inside the pantry with a package of cookies.

“I swear they are mini versions of you,” YN mutters fondly, watching as the twins giggle as if they’re getting away with a crime.

“Watch this,” Harry whispers before then loudly announcing, “I think I could really go for some cookies right about now.”

The twins become dead silent, with wide eyes staring at each other as they realize their father’s approaching.

“Maybe those chocolate chip ones I really love,” He adds onto the dramatics and the children break out in quiet belly laughs.

Then Harry pops out in front of them, with a low growl, “Darling! We have some little mice in our pantry!”

The twins absolutely squeal in delight before bolting in opposite directions out of the space and run from their father.

But he’s too fast, he chases after Olive and lugs her up on his hip before tracking down Beau, tugging him up too.

He then takes them back into the living room

When he arrives, he flings them onto the couch before he (carefully) throws himself on top of them to “smush” them - all the while their giggling, squeaking, and grabbing at their father.

He nips at them gentley, blowing raspberries on their bellies before pretending to bite their toes, “M’little cookie monsters!”

Says the man who once said…

“Fuck tha’. Never gonna have kids, waste of time and space. Fuckin’ kill me before tha’ happens.”

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

Just Not Happening

prompt (from a kofi donation): “ok so MLB H taking the kids trick or treating or like them having a halloween party and y/n tries to get them all (herself and h included) to do a coordinating costume and maybe it doesn’t work out exactly and he reassures/ comforts her 😉”

***<- click for visuals throughout the story

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—

It was an annual work Halloween party that the New York Yankees held a week prior to holiday at the stadium.

The field was set up for the event with bars, catered food, tons of activities for the kids while all the adults enjoyed the colder weather on the turf.

The Styles’ children usually loved to go to it each year but the two oldest had recently recovered from a cold and were still crabby as hell.

YN had organized their outfits this year to coordinate, she enjoyed doing it and it always made the tabloids, whatever outfits they chose.

She had decided that Harry was going to be a farmer, dressed in denim overalls with a plaid button-up underneath and a wide-brimmed farmer’s hat.

YN was a dressed as a scarecrow with an overall dress, a matching plaid shirt to Harry, with cowboy boots - her face decorated as well. ***

Easton was dressed as a cow**, Cash was a billy goat **, Ezra was a chicken **, and Briar was a little lamb **.

They only wrangled one child into a costume in nearly twenty minutes and it was the oldest, Easton who was six and a half, unamused as he sat in the living room where everyone was supposed to be getting dressed.

“I wanted to be the goat!” Easton complains with crossed arms and a pout as he watches Harry try to convince Cash to step into his outfit.

“Bubs, you specifically said you wanted the cow when we went shopping,” YN reminds him gently, changing Briar’s diaper before getting her ready.

“M’the goat!” Cash huffs back, hand on his father’s shoulder as he steps into his costume and allowing him to zip it up.

The two of them were just in a sour mood, Easton makes it a point to trip Cash when he is walking by which causes him to fall and let out a wail of anger.

Harry would normally put Easton on the step but they just didn’t have time, “Absolutely not. Do not do that again, s’not kind. Do you hear me?”

Easton refuses to meet his father’s eye which has Harry stepping over and tilting his chin up, “Say ‘yes daddy’ and apologize to y’brother.”

“Yes daddy,” The older grumbles before muttering out a non-convincing apology to Cash who’s glaring at him with no plan to accept the words.

Both parents turn to focus on Ezra, the two year old is staring at the feathery costume with wide eyes, and as soon as YN attempts to get him to step in - he squeaks loudly and refuses to do so.

“No no no, mama,” He chants in his baby voice, tucking himself behind his father’s legs to peek around.

Harry turns and scoops him up, lips next to his ear “S’just a costume, s’not scary, sweetheart.”

“No daddy,” Ezra squeaks firmly, shaking his head and clinging to his father - Harry can’t help but wince when he tugs on a lock of hair.

YN sighs, tossing the outfit onto the couch, “I guess no costume for him then. Will you help me with Briar’s”

“Sure mama,” He replies, letting Ezra down and he bolts towards his brothers - far away from the feathery costume.

They manage to get the squirmy infant into the lamb costume but it’s followed by heavy tears and unhappy screams.

“Oh my god,” YN laughs in exasperation, knowing they can’t keep Briar in the lamb get-up if she hates it that much.

As soon as Harry wriggles her out of it, her tears cease and she suckles happily on her binky while blinking up at her father.

“Little lamb, why don’t y’like your costume?” Harry coos to his daughter, bopping her button nose lightly as he rocks her.

“Cash!”

Easton’s shout cuts through the kitchen and then he comes barreling through the entryway with massive red stains covering his previously pristine white costume.

“Wha’ happened?” Harry groans, he’s getting frustrated in a way that doesn’t happen often with his children.

“Cash to-took his juice and splashed me with it ‘cause I tried to ta-take his snack but he wouldn’t share,” He is whining as Cash comes jogging into the room after him.

“He tr-tried to take m’peppa bowl!” Cash interrupts loudly but begins sobbing when Easton throws a stuffie at him.

Then it’s commotion.

Easton and Cash going at it, Ezra stepping closer and babbling in confusion as he watches them yell nonsense.

“Enough.”

It gets eerily quite in the room, Harry’s tone was sharp and loud, and when it gets that way…well the boys know they’re in trouble.

It was domino effect from there.

Cash sticks his tongue out at his older brother.

Easton is stubborn, just like his mama, and though he doesn’t say anything, he reaches his hand out to push Cash’s shoulder.

Cash squawks loudly and tries to catch himself, he does but in turn then stumbles into Ezra which makes him unsteady and he falls.

Luckily, Ezra just falls on his diaper-clad bum but he lets out a deafening wail after it happens, whimpering, “Mama, mama!”

And Harry’s hit his limit, his voice booming as he looks at his son’s who are wide-eyed with fear, “Wha’ did I just say?”

“But daddy! He-“

“Both of you, get y’bums up to your rooms now,” He orders, taking Briar from YN so she can tend to Ezra who’s still sobbing.

“The party, daddy!” Easton says in confusion, “We have t’go.”

It was already way past the time they would have had to leave to make it there at a decent time.

“Y’think I would take you two to a party when y’actin’ like this? Not listening to mama or daddy, pushing and being mean to each other? Absolutely not,” He says firmly, his jaw clenched and the both boys begin to sniffle.

“Daddy!”

“Go to your rooms. If I have to repeat myself, y’gonna be in even more trouble,” He warns, full dad mode on as he watches them drag their feet out of the room.

“Fuck,” YN groans from behind him, he turns in time to see that Ezra had nuzzled his face against her which ruined her carefully applied costume makeup.

It almost seems like fate that they weren’t going to the party when before Harry can say something - Briar throws up her dinner onto his overalls before smiling.

“Oh fuc-“ Harry whines, trying his best not to gag as it drips down the front of him - his darling little baby all messy now too.

“Ezzie and Bry are going to need baths - like now. I don’t want this makeup irritating his skin,” His wife replies, cringing at the baby sick.

“Should we do tha’ and then deal with the boys after?” Harry asks, knowing a little time in their rooms will calm them down.

YN scrubs her face and changes into a old college shirt and a pair of yoga shorts, Harry just strips off his outfit and pulls on a pair of running shorts.

Harry places a wriggly Briar in her baby bath before plopping Ezra down next to it - the tub was massive and he automatically starts smacking the water - he loves his baths.

“So much for the party,” YN sighs, massaging baby shampoo through Ezra’s curls while Harry gently wipes down Briar with a soft cloth.

“It probably wouldn’t have ended well anyways with how t’boys were acting,” Harry shrugs, he can’t help but chuckle when Briar makes a pinched face.

“You looked sexy as a farmer tonight,” She bites back a smile because she knows Harry is going to just preen at the compliment.

He does.

“Y’think so, mama? Gonna be m’nice little farmhand and ride me ton-“

“Sssh,” She giggles, nudging his shoulder before she begins to wash out the suds from Ezra’s hair, “Just take the compliment.”

Harry pouts a bit as he swaddles Briar into a towel and he has to just make sure, “Tonight you will though, right?”

“Yes, baby daddy,” YN agrees, loving the way his eyes get darker when she calls him that.

“Yeah, gave y’all these babies, huh?” He smiles widely, he was literally so fucking easy for his wife.

“Two of them where nightmares today so don’t look so smug. They get that from you,” She shakes her head fondly, managing to tuck Ezra into his cozy soft towel.

“Two clean bubbies!” Harry sings happily, munching playfully at Briar’s cheek until she squeaks with a baby smile.

“Me, daddy,” Ezra whines, awaiting until his father reaches over and nips at his cheek until he belly laughs and pushes Harry away.

“Here, I’ll go get the boys. Their pajamas are laying on our bed,” YN shuffles her youngest son into Harry’s arm - a baby on both.

“You’re such a good mama,” Harry hums, kissing her temple and when YN looks embarrassed, he adds, “Don’t be like tha’, couldn’t have knocked up anyone better.”

“Now you ruined the moment.”

Harry scoffs, affronted, “Hey! S’romantic!”

While Harry lays both babies on the bed, wrapping them both up in their diapers before fighting to get them into their onesies - YN brings in Easton and Cash who are out of their costumes and in pajamas.

They avoid their father’s gaze, heads down and eyes stuck on the floor as the shuffle in - Cash with his arms wrapped around his mother’s thigh and digging his face into her.

“Cash Edward, look at daddy, please,” Harry murmurs, stepping over and squatting in front of the boys.

Cash shakes his head of curls adamantly in refusal, whining and gripping onto his mom tighter to stay cemented where he is.

“Easton, look at daddy too,” Harry asks, reaching out to take on of his hands and his oldest listens, looking at his father with sad eyes as he begins to cry.

“Oh, c’mon bub. No tears,” His father sighs, Easton steps forward into Harry’s chest until he’s wrapping him up in a warm hug.

When Cash peeks and notices his brother’s actions - he lefts go of his mother’s thigh and scuttles in Harry’s arms as well.

He pulls them back to arms length, face firm and serious as he speaks, “You two did not listen y’mama or me very well today. S’not okay to hurt each other either. Do you understand?”

They both nod solemnly and Cash piques up, “Halloween party now?”

“No, we missed it because y’two wouldn’t listen but we can watch a Halloween movie in bed, yes?” He offers much to their exictement.

And that’s how the night ends, Harry and YN in their massive bed with Easton in the middle, Cash nuzzled into Harry’s side, and Ezra fast asleep on YN’s chest with Briar in her crib.

hiii mini tacos! if you want to be tagged for tag notifications - follow my side blog and message me to be added! @erodastacostand

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

*CHICAGO*

i write for free - so if you would like to support my work, you can donate here. (plus my bday is today!!!!!!! 🎂)

if you liked please reblog, recommended, like, and come talk to me about it!

——

The public didn’t know that some of the pictures that are posted of Harry that are tagged and credited to the on tour photographers were actually taken by his wife.

For example, after Chicago, the picture of Harry in the tub - completely bare and worn down from his show, you actually think the photographer took that?

No, that was snapped with YN’s iPhone, like some of the other pictures he’s posted.

Just like the one where he’s asleep on the hotel bed in a robe in Paris with all of his stuff splayed around him - allegedly taken by helene. ***

But no, it had been his wife, they had just taken a shower together and she had stayed in for a bit longer to shave her legs - when she had come out and seen him passed out.

She had to tug a bit at the robe so he wasn’t exposed and make it x-rated, then she pulled out her phone and snapped the picture - sending it to Jeff with a teasing caption.

yn: It’s exhausting being a popstar

And just like that, it appears on his Instagram for fans to go crazy over.

Or what about the snapshot of his tank that had his famous slogan embroidered into the side of the white fabric. ***

His wedding band reflecting in the flash of the light, a subtle glance at his rippled muscle below the attire as they work on his hair.

“Mm, I’m gonna save this for a lonely night,” YN jokes as she tucks her phone away.

Harry’s hand comes to cup her jaw, looking down at her where she’s sat on the floor, “Y’so fuckin’ pretty, y’know that?”

YN’s eyelids flutter a bit as she glances away from his intense gazes - he still gives her butterflies.

“Don’t get shy on me, baby. Can I not tell m’wife how gorgeous she is?” He asks, bring her hand up to kiss the back of it, “Look s’good with tha’ ring on.”

And the one that made fans go crazy.

On a warm evening, in a hotel room between venues in Italy, where they had been lounging around all day.

YN in just a thin gauzy dress that accentuated the fact she wasn’t wearing a bra and Harry just in the trousers he’d worn to get them coffee earlier that morning.

“You just took a picture of me! It’s my turn,” YN giggles, getting on her knees on the old squeaky couch and snatching the camera off of him.

“I took a picture because y’tits look nice in tha’ dress. I can see y’nipples and it’s turnin’ me on,” Harry defends, holding up his book as she snaps it.

“H, c’mon,” She pouts but squeaks when Harry tugs her into him, dropping the book and the camera as he adjusts her on his lap.

“Gonna let me take a picture of y’all nice and fucked out, darling?” He rasps, ignoring her pout and hiking her dress up her hips.

And it’s happened throughout the years, so many pictures that were littered over the internet where just uncredited snapshots from YN.

Just like the one from 2013, they were on tour, and Harry was supposed to be recording for the next album after soundcheck and before the concert. ***

Instead, after soundcheck, Harry and YN had snuck off to a little meadow and lake to have a swim. He had shimmied down to his briefs and waded in.

YN stood back, snapping a picture of him and his friend as the complained about how freezing cold it was.

“Baby, c’mon. Come get in!” Harry had shouted back to his girlfriend on the dry land, “I need some warmth, s’freezing!”

YN grimaces, just in Harry’s shirt and a pair of yoga shorts, dipping her toe in and shaking her head - “I’ll enjoy from here!”

“Please, bug,” He pouts, motioning for her to come in.

She does after a moment, squealing at the temperature before quickly finding her way into Harry’s arms.

“Only have fun on tour when y’with me,” He had murmured into her ear before he dunked her underwater and they play fought until their stomachs hurt from laughing.

And then came the notorious picture that had gotten a million likes in thirteen minutes, oh, the chicago ice bath.

Harry had been achey since tour had begun, constantly complaining about his back and ankles from the shows.

“Baby, just rub m’back a lil’ longer please?” He had whimpered the night before, the tour bus bed did not help him much at all.

When his trainer had recommended an ice bath immediately after the show - YN had made sure to arrange it despite his protests.

After exiting the stage in his black and lilac outfit, he’d been lured into the bathroom with a promise of sex but instead was a steel tub filled with ice water.

Jeff, Lambert, Tommy - everyone was watching on in amusement as he adamantly tried to deny that it would help and the peer pressure wasn’t make him anymore convinced.

“Alright, everyone out,” YN had finally tittered, shooing out the circus before closing the door for privacy.

She helps strip her husband out of his close as he looks at her reproachfully, “You promised me sex.”

“After,” YN assures him, kissing his puffy lips and asking softly, “Just try it, if it doesn’t work - you don’t have to do it again.”

He grumbles a bit, muttering, “Don’t look at m’bits, they’re gonna shrivel up.”

YN giggles, “As if I haven’t seen your bits in every shape and form.”

As he slips in, YN has to snap a picture of his eyes wide and lips pursed at the shock of the freezing water cooling down his hot, sticky skin.

“Holy fucking shit,” Harry hisses, lowering self until he’s sat - his nipples instantly hardening and he’s breathing roughly out of his nose.

“Five minutes, I’ll set the timer,” YN says, setting it on her phone before sitting down next to the tub as he tries to relax.

“Baby, fuck. Reminds me of that really cold lake in Boston, ‘member?” He squeezes his eyes shut and reaches until YN intertwines their hands.

“Yeah, that wasn’t as cold as that one time you convince me to skinny dip with you on the coast of france.”

“Oh yeah, that one was really fucking cold too,” Harry murmurs, keeping his eyes closed and steadying his breathing.

(During WWA tour - ***)

“Harry, are you insane? Anyone could see us? Paul could walk out or the boys. I’m not-“

She’s cut off when Harry shucks off his swimsuit bottoms, his skin’s glowing in the moonlight and the light waves lapping at the shore are soothing.

YN swallows harshly, tries not to stare at how handsome and overwhelming beautiful he is as he turns to step towards the water.

She looks over her shoulder nervously before stepping out of her one-piece, he waits for her at the shoreline.

“Y’so so stunnin’,” Harry tells her, thumbing at the soft curve of her breast and leaning in for a soft kiss when he feed her shake.

“You could have anyone,” YN whispers against his lips, “Every girl on this earth wants you like this. I’m just some girl from before all this,” she motions to the extravagant bungalow they’re staying at.

“I don’t know why y’think tha’s bad. I want t’experience all this with you, m’first love and m’only love. I’m going to marry y’soon, you know tha’?” He replies, lips tracing the curve of her neck.

“You better,” She giggles, hands going to his shoulder as he sucks a mark into the thin skin.

He pulls back with a frown, “M’not jokin’, I don’t care that we’re young - M’gonna do it.”

“I can’t wait,” YN kisses his jutted out lip, squealing when he tugs her into the water and the chilled waves crash against her hips, “H, it’s so cold.”

“M’gonna keep y’warm, hush up,” He titters, pulling her into his chest until her breasts are smushed against his strong pecs and his arms are around her shoulder, “Love experiencing this w’you, everythin’ w’you.”

YN is brought back from her daydream by her husband wiping his finger under her eyelid, “Darling, wha’ is it?”

She hadn’t realized she had teared up thinking of the fond memory, “I want to go back to that bungalow. We had such a good time. I…I just love you.”

His wife chuckles like she’s pathetic for crying about it but he leans out of the tub, cupping her jaw and pulling her in for a hard kiss.

“Don’t be embarrassed, flower,” There was no teasing in his voice, it was sincere, “If anyone should be embarrassed - I’m the one who travels around the world t’sing love songs ‘bout you.”

Their lips join again, his tongue finding its way into her mouth when Jeff, Lambert, and Tommy barge through the door.

“Jesus Christ, only you could be trying to get some while sat in an ice bath,” Jeff scoffs with a smile but instantly knows they’ve fucked up.

“Get out, the fuck?” Harry sits up, “Don’t interrupt me and m’wife. Get out!”

They stumble out and just then the alarm goes off.

YN helps him out, tucking him into a towel and helping him dry off - his head tucked into her neck and hand on her belly - massaging.

“Do you feel any better?” She hums while getting some stray droplets on the nape of his neck as he nuzzles into her warm skin.

“Mm,” He agrees drowsily, hand slipping under her shirt for more heat and she jumps at his icey touch, “Want t’sleep.”

And when they get to the hotel, YN logs onto his Instagram and uploads the ice bath pictures with nobody knowing the story behind it.

Hope you enjoyed!

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

ST. PAUL

Please like, comment, recommend, reblog, and come talk to me if you enjoyed the piece.

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warnings: smut, daddy kink, 18+

—

Harry loves being the center of attention.

It’s really no surprise at this point that he enjoys when tens of thousands of people are watching him perform.

He also secretly loves that people love his wife as well. He swore sometimes he thinks his wife is more popular than him during tour.

YN was didn’t come out from backstage to stand and watch the show right away like she usually did - she was working through some merch issues with Jeff.

Harry noticed that the fans were continuously looking back to where his wife would usually stand for the show.

Between one of the sets, Harry goes about ready some of the posters that fans have brought and he huffs out a faux affronted remark as he reads one out loud.

“I’m only here for your hot wife.”

He jokingly glares at the fan as the crowds laughs, “M’gonna have t’have a talk with security about these posters! Y’hitting on m’wife in front me! She’s not even out here, tough luck mate.”

Then he shimmies away as another song comes on.

A few minutes later, a sign pops up that says, “I want to taste YN’s watermelon sugar.”

Harry gives the person holding the sign a look of disbelief and shakes his head in disapproval at the poster before turning away.

“Should I text him?”

Harry reads from a fan’s board, he holds up his left hand and wriggles his ring finger that is donned in his wedding band, “Y’asking the wrong person, love. I’ve been locked down f’eleven years, don’t know much about the new age of dating!”

He goes on to say, “My only advice is if he’s playing games - don’t do it. Trash, trash, trash. Not for you.”

When YN finally arrives to her usual spot, everyone tries to get a glimpse from where they’re at. It was a thing, everyone wants to not only get a glimpse of Harry Styles’ wife but also her outfit.

There were hundreds of instagram accounts now dedicated to their matching tour outfits.

The short dress she was wearing was made of the same material and color as his shirt *** and she looked stunning as always.

The singer notices all of the attention dart to the side of the arena, where he also spots his beautiful wife smiling with Glenne as they go to their usual spot.

When She ends, Harry walks down the catwalk with a exaggerated pout on his face, giving his wife a pointed look, “I just want to remind everyone, this show’s about me! I’m quite the narcissist so I know m’wife is gorgeous but we’re here f’me!”

The crowd erupts in laughter and playful ‘boos’ as a dimply smile spreads on his face as he adjust his in-ears.

YN bites the inside of her lip, holding back her own giggles at her husband’s boyish antics before she joins along in the boos.

“Alright, alright, no booing me now,” Harry titters like the comedian he is, “Just remindin’ y’who this is all about. Me! But let’s give a round of applause to m’wife who deals with the narcissism on a daily basis!”

The arena does so, thousands of fans capturing their interaction on their phones for people to coo over later.

YN rolls her eyes, laughing at some Glenne says before and then Harry is starting his next song with a few glances over to her until they meet eyes and he blows her a kiss which she returns.

And then a poster pops up in the pit that Harry knows he has to snag - gets a brilliant idea so he asks the fan to pass it forward.

He props his mic back into its stand before turning the poster around and showing it to his wife on the side.

“Show us your tits, respectfully.”

YN flips him off with a giggle before teasing at the collar of her dress which makes Harry’s jaw drop dramatically and he gives her a surprised look before shaking his head. ***

“Don’t y’dare flash the goods! I’m just jokin’ around, this is a family show….” He pauses before prompting the crowd, “Or is it?”

As he performs Lights Up, YN steps forward to the barricade to call over one of the fan who is awestruck as she stumbles over to YN.

“Could I borrow your sign?” YN asks the fan - who was dressed in a sequined suit that looked amazing and she had to compliment her on that too.

“Uh…yeah. He-here,” The girl stutters nervously, passing over the posterboard with shaky hands at meeting YN.

She was sooooo pretty up close, smelled like chanel number five, and smiled warmly enough to make the fan feel comfort.

“Thanks, I’ll give it right back,” YN assures her, stepping back over to Glenne, they giggle together before YN holds it over her head.

“Choke Me Daddy.”

Harry spots it in a mere minute, reading it over and unable to hide the moody, dark expression that flashes across his face before he covers it up by looking elsewhere.

Just the reaction she wanted.

Harry stay away from that side of the stage for a little, YN knows it’s to prevent a very public boner from her behavior.

YN hands it back, agrees to take a few pictures with the girl and her friends before they go back to enjoy the concert.

The girl who lent her the sign goes on to make tiktoks about the meeting.

“She was super nice and giggly.”

“She let us take a ton of selfies.”

“When she held it up, Harry like instantly got pissed or turned on or something because he gave her this look and it was intense.”

“Harry was staring at her like the whole concert after she held up that sign.”

“It seemed like YN was purposefully ignoring his signals to make him even more annoyed.”

“Her ring was so pretty.”

“I couldn’t tell who was more attractive, Harry or YN, I think they’re literally the hottest couple alive.”

When the concert ends, Harry bolts off stage - waving and blowing kisses to his adoring fans before disappearing into the back.

YN is waiting patiently by the entry, where she usually was, her stomach was tight and bracing for her husband’s reaction.

She wanted to play.

They both knew it.

Hell, the whole arena had known she wanted it.

And to her absolute disappointment, Harry arrives back stage and pulls her into a tight hug. He pulls back gently to kiss her with his large palm cupping her face.

“Hi baby, m’exhuasted. I’ll shower at the hotel,” Harry rasps, peppering a few more soft kisses before intertwining their fingers.

YN has to hide her disappointment that it wasn’t Harry coming back stage, shoving her into his dressing room, and giving it to her hard for the sign she held up.

Nope, during the ride to the hotel, he was cuddly and like a puppy - whining until YN massaged his neck and allowed him to lay his head in her lap.

He doesn’t bring up the sign, just relaxes quietly until they get to the hotel and then just grabs her hand to lead her to their room.

YN tries to settle down the itchy arousal in her belly when Harry goes to shower.

She changes out of her dress into one of Harry’s shirts and goes about folding and organizing both of their suitcases.

After the shower stops, YN hears Harry moves around for a moment until he’s opening the bathroom door.

“Do you want to order room service? I’m star-“

She’s cut off when her husband’s hand reaches down and intertwines into her hair - gentle by firmly pulling her to stand by it and tugging her back into his hard chest.

“Harr-“

“I don’t think so, baby. I think s’daddy, yeah?” Harry hisses against the shell of her ear, “Do y’think I’d forget about y’holding up a sign that said choke me daddy?”

It’s easy for her to slip in a fuzzier, submissive state because she knows her husband will keep her safe and always take care of her.

“You showed that sign fir-“ YN begins to argue back but Harry pulls at her hair to silence her.

“Y’want t’argue or do you want t’be a good girl f’daddy?” Harry asks lowly, his voice threaten and void of any of his normal warmth, “I think ten is a good number, hm? Ten t’your arse?”

“But-“ YN loved to push him, she wanted those ten but she also liked to rile Harry up which was even better when he was adrenaline high from a show.

“Say ‘yes daddy’ or I’ll add five,” He warns, his voice had a delicious rasp from singing and he wraps his hand into her thong and rips it - making her yelp as the elastic snaps against her skin.

YN’s heart is pounding out of her chest, usually she was the one who took Harry by surprise - not the other way around.

Her skin was aching already from the brush burn of the fabric being torn from her sensitive skin, scalp pulsing from the tension on her hair.

“You were so obvious on stage, H. Once I held up that sign, your face gave everything away - that you’re so easy f’me - it’s embarrassing. I’ve been locked down for eleven years,” She imitates his accent in a bratty bite.

Harry snaps, nearly picking her up as he manhandles her over to the large hotel bed and she finds herself on her belly with Harry landing a hard slap to her right cheek.

“Y’think you’re s’fuckin’ cute? Don’t act like it doesn’t get y’soaked seeing all those fans cry f’me and I come home t’you,” He chuckles meanly, “And y’want to call me desperate? Look in the mirror, love.”

YN wriggles a bit but doesn’t have much time before the second and third hit with his rings still on - making it hurt even more.

“Count f’me, sweetheart,” Harry hums, thumbing open her cheeks to lean down and teasing lick her tighter entrance before letting go to land the fourth one.

“F-four,” She chokes out, feeling herself drip onto the sheets and her nipples tighten against the cotton fabric of the shirt she still has on.

“Four what.”

The air in the room is thick, humid as she mumbles against the pillows, “Four daddy.”

“Louder.”

“Four, s’four daddy,” YN moans, tacking on the fifth to her words when he lands on her left cheek and she can tell how sore she’ll be in the morning already.

“Gonna give me fifteen, baby? Or are y’done?” His voice is cautious, checking in to see where she’s at - if they add five more that means she really wants to play. If he stops at five, they both know that means she only wanted to be roughed up a little bit for the night.

“More, please.” YN gasps, shaking her bum in his face before it’s caught with the hardest hit yet and she yelps in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

After they reach fifteen, Harry is flipping her on her back and tugging her shirt off until her breasts spill out and he tugs roughly at a nipple.

“Daddy, please, please,” She whines, her thighs were damp and she was absolutely pulsating for his touch on her.

“I think I deserve an apology f’your behavior tonight,” He whispers against her puffy lips, his cock slipping against her mound lazily, “Desperate f’me even in front of tens of thousands of people. It’s quite cute, darling.”

“Fuck me, fuck me,” YN presses her lips to his eagerly, moaning when he slips between her folds and his tip bumps against her clit.

“Y’have no fuckin’ manners, pet. I think I’ve spoiled y’too much,” Harry admonishes with faux disappoint, pulling back until their centers aren’t touching and landing a smack to her mound.

Then he’s reaching down to thumb at her bud with a relentless pleasure but as soon as she starts to lift her hips into the feeling - he pulls away and tucks two fingers up inside her - repeats that quite a few times.

She felt like she was on fire, she needed him so badly that she wasn’t able to take much more of the teasing.

They usually played for longer, hours sometimes but on tour - it was hard to, both of them bone-tired and knowing they have to get up early and do it again tomorrow.

Harry knows his wife like the back of his hand, knows when she needs more and when she’s hit her limit for the night.

When he sees hot, fat tears spilling from the corner of her eyes, lips full and swollen, and she’s mewling, “Daddy.”

He knows she’s nearly at her limit, he slips inside her with no resistance and has to push for a moment because it feels that euphoric.

“Baby, fuck. Always feel s’fuckin’ good. This body was made f’me, yeah? S’addicitng, s’warm and tight,” Harry praises his wife, kissing her before tugging on her bottom lip with his teeth.

“S’for you, all of it. Ha-Daddy, I’m so close already, do it - c’mon,” She begs, legs wrapping around his narrow waist and pressing her heels into his bum.

They both know what she wants but he wants to hear her say it.

“C’mon, tell me. Say it and I’ll give it t’you,” He rumbles as he thrusts in with loud, smacking noises echoing through the room.

She blinks up at him with twinkling doe eyes, a small smirk on the side of her lips, as she says in a kittenish voice, “Choke me, daddy.”

And like that, his hand is collaring her throat and lightly pressing down until her breathe catches in her throat.

“Come f’me, m’desperate lil’ thing. All those people with those nasty signs and all I can think about it y’perfect cunt,” He murmurs in her ears, pressing just a bit more and then just like clockwork - she tenses and begins to come and he lightens his grip and releases when he follows soon after her.

👀👀👀👀👀

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erodasfishtacos · 2 years

Note

miss isla i present another mlbrry tok here ✨

mwah 😘

Yes! Just like one with H and Briar!

“Hi!” She squeaks onto the microphone, she has absolutely no fear of large crowds or unknown face - she just smiles her pearly white baby teeth at them.

The first interviewer asks, “Freeman is pretty sturdy competition. What were you two talking about at first base?”

Harry’s curls are still matted to his head, post-game, and his daughter is propped on his lap in a cute little yankees dress YN had put her in. ***

“He’s a really nice-“

“Daddy! Me! I’m three!” She’d lisped into the microphone, nearly knocking it over, “S’hai hai a chicken!”

Harry can’t help but laugh, “M’sorry, she’s been really into Moana lately. But what I was saying was that Freddie’s a great dude, super friendly. He was telling me about-“

“Quiet daddy, I sing!” Briar interrupts, grabbing the microphone with her chubby baby hands and beginning to sing You’re Welcome into it.

Harry gently pulls her back, the microphone ringing from her loudness, and whispering lowly in her ear, “Behave now. Sit nice and let daddy speak, yes?”

Briar whines loudly and Harry just knows what is about to come - on national television, a meltdown from his youngest.

“No no no! I sing! Daddy!” Briar crows affronted by her father, trying to grab for the microphone and huffing when she realizes Harry has a tight hold on her now.

“Briar Anne, y’not being very kind right now. Listen to daddy,” Harry encourages, whispering in her ear and he can see YN - off to the side, ready to take her.

“Stop daddy! Mine! Mine!”

Her favorite word right now.

“Brian’s being bad,” Cash giggles off to the side, making Easton laugh too.

“Shush, you two,” YN says mildly, trying disguise a smile at watching Harry wrangle their moody three year old.

“I swear she gets her attitude from her mama,” Harry jokes into the mic, throwing a cheeky smile at his wife and making the crowd laugh.

“She sounds a lot like how you are on the field, Styles!” A reporter shouts with a teasing tone and Harry can’t help but chuckle too.

“Daddy, no, no,” Briar insists, trying to pry her fathers hand off her belly and whining when she can’t move it to escape.

“Alright, m’sorry to cut this short,” Harry apologizes, standing up and popping Briar on his hip, leaning back down and saying, “To answer your question, Freeman was asking me how my kids were and we were talkin’ about his twins. Nothin’ groundbreaking.”

#mlb!harry #mlb!verse #mlb!harry blurbs #mlbrry #file #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #mllb!harry blurb masterlist #erodsafishtacos masterlist #dad harry styles #harry styles husband

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

🖤NASHVILLE🖤

i write for FREE - so if you would like to support my work, you can donate here. ($15+ is guaranteed blurb written for you).

if you liked please reblog, recommended, like, and come talk to me about it!

Thirty.

That was the age they had settled on.

Thirty was the age that they had decided they would start trying for a baby - to make a little family for themselves.

At twenty-seven, that three years sometimes seemed soon and sometimes it seemed ages away from now.

They both go through phases of baby fever, Harry when he sees a baby at a family get together and YN when she watches too many mommy tiktoks.

It wasn’t a secret they wanted multiple kids but sometimes YN got anxious - kids while Harry tours, his job won’t change.

She happened to be in a nasty storm of said baby fever after YN had watched Harry lay on the floor with Mitch and Sarah’s baby and sing to him.

And then after that, Harry had cradled him with a bottle tucked between the baby’s lips and YN started to get the quell in her stomach.

I want that. Now.

But YN also knew that when she talked about wanting babies soon - it will make Harry feel guilty for the career he has and loves doing.

And during the show tonight, where Harry was in his sequined gucci suit and YN matching in a blush pink dress - it was a perfect storm. ***

A fan who had asked him to reveal the sex of their baby.

“Oooh, so tonight we’re going t’reveal the sex of a baby!” Harry smirks as he reads the fans poster, as he steps down to snag the envelope - he smirks at the screaming fans.

“Did y’just ask me if it’s m’baby?” Harry chuckles as he takes it and opens it, pulling out the letter to reveal the results, “Not unless m’wife is hiding something from me? Are you, love?”

The crowd turns to look at her, at her body where there is no baby bump to be seen, and their eyes are wide.

She swallows harshly as she shakes her head ‘no.’

“See? I just gotta keep tryin’!” He dimples boyishly and then shrugs to the audience like he didn’t just say something dirty, “Alright, calm down now.”

And he perches himself on the step of the stage, sitting down with his legs together as he reads over the piece of paper.

“S’nice, y’know? I know something you all don’t know,” Harry smirks at the crowd, his eyes connect with his wife’s for a moment but he misses the lack of twinkle in them.

He stands up, ever the comedian, and says, “Alright, let’s do another song!” And when the crowd boos, he huffs, “I’m jokin’. Give me a countdown!”

“You okay?” Glenne asks with an elbow nudge as she notices YN had become a bit subdued and she just nods that she is.

“It’s a little baby…girl,” He announces with a grand gesture, dramatically falling to his knees and fake crying for second before he gets up, “Congratulations on y’little baby! Everyone give ‘em a round of applause!”

The crowd erupts in cheers as Harry blows kisses, one specifically directed towards his wife before parading back on stage to the next song.

YN has this weird, queasy feeling her stomach, and it doesn’t make it better when she returns backstage and Tommy teases her.

“C’mon, you see how much H wants a baby! When are you gonna give him one. You’re slacking!” He boasts with humor but realizes it’s the wrong thing to say when YN storms off.

Harry only sees the tail end of the interaction, stepping up to Tommy and demanding, “Wha’ the fuck did you just say t’her?”

His friend stutters, rarely ever having Harry talk to him like that, “I was jus-just joking…”

“Whatever y’said wasn’t fuckin’ funny, watch the way y’talk to m’wife. Understood?” Harry grits, his chest was still heaving heavily from his performance.

“H, keep moving,” Jeff interrupts, trying to avoid any confrontation because he knows how Harry gets about his spouse.

“I said is it understood?” Harry booms, his eyes are dark and sweat is trailing from his hairline to his temple as he looks his friend down.

“Harry, enough,” YN says tightly, walking back when she hears his angry tone and she intertwines their hand and pulls him forward.

“I’m not gonna stand for -“

“Harry.”

It’s enough to silence him, it was a warning from his wife in a stern tone that tells him that she isn’t going to tolerate a fight right now.

“Fine,” He huffs, untangling their hands to wrap a possessive arm around her shoulder to pull her into his side and steer them towards the dressing room.

Harry showers quickly, coming out to step into the briefs she hands him and then his outfit for the night - they were supposed to go out with some of their friends. ****

“I’m just going to back to the hotel, I’m not feeling up for going out,” YN says to him, not meeting his eye when she tells him.

However, she can’t get away with anything.

His hand is coming under her chin and tilting her head up until they’re looking at each other.

“Wha’s going on with you?” He asks with a pout, he brushes his lips against hers - testing, a silent question.

“Nothing,” She mumbles quietly, tries to distract, “My feet are killing me, I’m gonna take off these heels-“

“Can’t pull tha’ with me, bug. I know y’like the back of my hand. Now cut it out and tell me,” Harry encourages with a rasp from his used voice.

“Let’s go!” Jeff announces, banging in the door.

They change route to the hotel, in the back of the SUV, Harry slips in - next to his wife until their thighs are squished together and he’s still radiating heat from his concert.

“Baby, please. Let m’fix it,” He hums, he was so all encompassing with his dark tobacco cologne and heavy weight as leans into her.

His hand is tuck in-between her closed thighs, squeezing as reassurance and he hooks their ankles together.

“It’s stupid, Harry. Can we drop it?”

“Y’already know tha’ answer to that. M’askin’ nicely right now, s’my job to help,” Harry sounds contemplative - like he’s trying to figure out what is going on in her mind and then it clicks.

“You’re ridiculous, y’really are,” Harry chuckles knowingly, they were so connected and he was just so aware of his wife that it’s a bit absurd.

YN looks up at him, confused by his crooked smile and his hand creeps a bit closer up her leg like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

“If y’want a baby, I’ll give you one tonight. Give m’wife anythin’ she wants. Want me t’make y’a Mum?”

His lips are on her neck, hand brushing the lace of her underwear and hiking her dress higher - but there is no partition and the driver is right there.

“H,” YN breathily warns, tugging it back down a bit and her heart rate spikes when he presses his thumb to her clit over the thin fabric.

“Can feel ‘ow puffy y’clit is already, know y’want it,” Harry doesn’t take the warning, he was already filling out in his trousers, “Yeah?”

“Shush,” YN feels her cheeks heat with the slight nerves of the chauffeur hearing his low, filthy words against her skin.

“Tell me I’m right,” Harry urges, “Tell me y’want a baby. The reveal tonight made you want it.”

“Always want it,” She murmurs softly, lips brushing against his, “Have since we got together, I knew I wanted that with you.”

Harry’s demeanor changes a bit, a little more serious as he searches her face, “If you want t’start trying, we can. I want t’give y’a baby whenever y’want one. Been dreaming of it just as long as you have.”

“We said thirty.”

“I don’t care about tha’,” Harry dismisses, his thumb is still lightly rubbing at her bud but not enough to get anywhere meaningful.

YN shakes her head, “It’s not the time. We said thirty for a reason. I guess I’m just having a bit of baby fever.”

“If y’change your mind, m’on board. Anytime y’want to start trying,” His swollen lips moved back to her neck, “But m’definetly show y’how it’s done when we get back t’the hotel.”

And he did.

As soon as they got in the room, her dress and underwear was discarded while he was still fully clothed.

“Get y’arse on the dresser,” Harry demands, he seemed near feral with need as he helps her up until her bum’s on the cold wood.

In the next moment, he’s down on knees and burying his head between her luscious thighs to lick right into her entrance before flattening his tongue to drag up to her clit - nipping at the hood.

“Fuck baby,” YN yelps at his vigor, hips twitching and legs resting over his shoulder as his head bobs with sloppy licks, “Didn’t know talking about having a baby would get you this turned on.”

“Sweetheart, everythin’ you do turns me on,” He groans against her as he swirls his tongue - fingers coming to curl up into her and fill her up.

“Oo-oh, yes, baby like that,” She whines, hand weaving into his locks and holding him close to her which makes him moan into her center and causes vibrations that make her come on the spot.

When he pops up, his dimples are on full display - always proud when he makes her orgasm fast and his face is a bit damp as he surges forward to kiss her.

“Y’so fuckin’ hot, can’t get over it, hotter every fuckin’ day,” He growls, unbuttoning his pants with one hand and while the other thumbs over her tight nipple.

Something about him not bothering to undress before fucking into her makes it even more passionate, needy like he was just that impatient to into her.

His hand grips her thigh until it’s pleasurably painful and moans at the sounds they’re making together as he orders her, “Y’gonna come again, come on. Touch y’cunt, baby.”

She obliges, sensitive but still aroused, she circled her nerves with two finger and mewls when her hands slip to feel where he’s moving in and out of her.

“Darlin’, pinch it.”

And YN does, the sparks shooting through her and he speeds up - knocking her hand away and doing it himself - pinching at her swollen nub until she releases for the second time and he fucks her through both their orgasm.

“God,” Harry chuckles, head dropping to her shoulder, “M’so fuckin’ gone f’you it’s stupid. Just the thought of giving y’a baby.”

“Three years.”

Harry beams at her, buttoning their lips together before agreeing, “Three years.”

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

HSLOT PHILLY

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Harry is predictable.

He falls into the same patterns during every tour since he was on the Up All Night with One Direction.

The excitement that comes with the first couple of shows begins to fade as he starts his world wide tour that doesn’t end for nearly eight months.

His constant adrenaline wears off and his exhaustion from not having toured in two years settles deep in his bones.

YN senses it from a mile away, has nearly eleven years experience dealing with her jet-lagged, exhausted, and stubborn husband.

It hits the day of the Philadelphia show, they got in late the night before, and YN always set her alarm for seven thirty in the morning to workout.

Ninety-five percent of the time, Harry got up with her and they either did a jog around the new city or they took advantage of the in-hotel gym.

Four percent of the time, he would whine and tug the comforter over his head, whimpering, “M’too tired, baby. Stay in bed w’me.”

And then the one percent, which was today.

The alarm emits a low, constant beep that rouses YN, in the time she takes to rub her eye and come back into reality - Harry hisses with a sharp edge, “Turn tha’ fuckin’ thing off.”

She bites her tongue at his tone, reaching to turn it off but she can already tell what day they’re going to have.

YN slips out from under the covers and automatically gets a comment from her husband, it another whiney demand, “Cover m’feet, y’too the blanket off them.”

“Yes, your majesty,” YN replies reproachfully, rearranging the blankets before quietly moving around the room to change.

“Stop makin’ so much noise.”

“Turn off tha’ light.”

“S’too early f’this, d’you not care that m’tired?”

She chooses to ignore the remarks, hoping that he can sleep off the attitude.

When YN is about to leave, he grumbles, “Y’need to kiss me goodbye.”

Harry purses his lips for a soft kiss, not moving a muscle, and after that - she leaves to head down to the gym.

YN is required a body guard, definitely when she isn’t with Harry or a group of people, and she decided not to follow those rules today.

She had her TPWK water bottle in hand, a cute workout set on ***, and her AirPods tucked in her ear with some Spice Girls playing.

It’s only about twenty minutes into her exercise, a light jog on the treadmill, that a young girl slips up beside the machine.

YN is kind, stopping the belt to smile for a selfie before the girl scampers off and she resumes her run - music blasting.

However, what YN didn’t know, is that fans had found out early in the morning which hotel they where at and a hoard was rushing towards the small gym.

It’s not even ten minutes later when a swarm of fans in rushing into the work area, lining up around her machine with their phones flashing and recording.

She tries to be nice, “Hey! Uh, I’m just trying to workout. I’m sorry, but no pictures please.”

Then there is loud protest and people shoving each other, begging and pleading for a selfie or for her to sign something - all because she was Harry’s wife.

There is literally no exit to escape to, so she relents and anxiously calls Frank - one of the body guards - to come retrieve her.

The whole way back up to her hotel room, Frank is lecturing her about safety and how she could have gotten hurt.

And when he scans the keycard for her hotel room, she feels her stomach drop because Harry is sat against the kitchen counter.

His brown locks are rumpled and going every which way, just in his briefs that are low on his narrow hips, and absolutely irate expression on his face.

“Are y’fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Harry snaps, brow furrowed and jaw clenched - his arms were crossed tightly against his chest.

“Good morning to you, sunshine,” YN mutters, shutting the door and kicking off her tennis shoes to the side.

“Don’t,” Harry replies sourly, “Please explain t’me why I get woken up by Frank to be told y’getting mobbed in the gym? And y’didn’t to call him.”

YN bristles at his tone, giving him a pointed look as she steps further into the room, “It’s not a big deal. I just wasn’t thinking.”

“Y’right about that, y’weren’t thinkin’. It is a big deal, y’could have gotten hurt - shouldn’t have t’babysit m’own wife,” Harry huffs, stomping back over to the bed and sliding back under the covers.

“You better watch your tone-“

They’re interrupted with a knock to their door, Harry throws the covers over his head and leaves YN to open the door.

It’s Jeff, who barges in with a coffee in one hand, “Come on, H. Did you forget? You have soundcheck early today and then you have to meet with FullStop to review the details of that new merchandise contract.”

“No, move it,” The popstar groans, muffled from the heavy blankets over him, and his manager and wife give each other a knowing look.

“We can’t. Get up, we need to leave in fifteen,” Jeff replies casually, unbothered as he sips from his to-go mug.

It has Harry dramatically ripping off the covers and getting out of bed, as he charges off towards the bathroom, he shouts backwards, “Wish someone would have fuckin’ told me! Like m’manager or m’wife!”

“Oh my god, here we go,” YN groans quietly to Jeff, snatching up the few things she needs for the venue as well as Harry’s and shoving them in his duffle.

He comes out a few moments later, dressed in running shorts and a vintage Queen shirt - going to tug on his Nikes without a word to either.

But in true Harry fashion, even when he’s mad, he’s still a gentleman. He slips the duffle off his wife’s shoulder so she doesn’t have to carry it.

“Thank you,” She murmurs but he avoids eye contact, being the first to open the hotel room and trudge towards the awaiting car.

It’s a quiet ride, Harry looks out the window with a deep frown and puffy eyes - eyes heavy from the lack of sleep.

Usually, he’d be curled into YN - snuggling as close as possible and asking for her to pet his hair to soothe him.

Not today. But he does have his hand on her thigh.

There’s already fans at the arena and Harry doesn’t acknowledge them - keeps his head down and walks quickly into the private entrance past the barricades.

When a irritated fan screams, “Asshole! We waited all night here for you!”

YN watches as Harry goes to turn, to say something but she pushes him forward through the door to prevent him from doing something he’d regret when wasn’t in a foul mood.

They manage through the long hallways, filled with bustling tour crew, and everybody there to make the show happen.

Sound check isn’t as fun as it usually is, the band stays low-key when Harry does exactly what he needs to do and nothing more.

And after the merch meeting, Harry has reached his limit apparently.

He was so tired, so fucking moody that he couldn’t deal with anymore human interaction.

YN has to step in when she gets a text from Harry Lambert.

Come get your husband. Sarah’s Kitchen.

She sighs, excusing herself from hanging out with Jeff and Glenne - she can hear him from the hallway and now she’s finally get irritated.

“I asked for that specific brand. It’s literally one of the only things I’ve asked for on this tour.”

YN takes a deep breathe before stepping in, there are crew trying not to stare as Harry complains to Sarah about something unimportant.

“Harry,” She says flatly, “Come on.”

He snatches his water bottle and follows his wife out without another word, trailing behind until they end up in his dressing room.

“You need to stop. You’re being a literal nightmare today,” YN tells him, watching him as he digs in the duffle.

“Where is m’charger? Did y’not pack it?” He ignores her words.

“I must have forgot. Harry, I know you’re tired but you can’t be treating everyone like-“

Harry pushes back the bag, seething for no reason, “I’ll treat people however the fuck I want!”

“You’re acting like a spoiled popstar right now,” YN replies, attempting to stay level-headed and calm with him.

“S’my show! M’tour!”

“Yes and everyone is here to support you and you’re treating them like shit. Including me, I’m your wife - the one person in the world that’s here for you no matter what and you’re being downright mean.”

“Y’so fuckin’ sensitive,” Harry mutters angrily, digging around to try to find a charger in a different bag.

And…that stung a bit.

When he doesn’t get a response, he looks up and notices how her demeanor had changed - it brings him back to reality for a little bit.

“I’m not going to stay here and be talked to like that because you don’t feel good. I’ll leave you alone because you are being insufferable.”

“Bab-“

YN is already out the door, storming back to Sarah’s kitchen to apologize for her husband’s diva behavior and everyone shrugs her off - knowing it’s not her fault.

She is sat down with the band and a few others when her husband saunters in, he doesn’t look at anyone else as he walks up to his wife.

“Baby, can I talk to you?” He mumbles, his warm hand coming to cup her shoulder.

“Harry,” YN says back, they’ve been together for so long that those words are all she needs to say for him to formulate a response.

“Come nap w’me please, need you. I’ll apologize t’you,” Harry says, his palm encompassing and big on her.

“Harry,” She repeats.

The crew looks on in amusement as Harry huffs, he lifts his head and speaks loudly to the room at once, “I apologize for my behavior. I have no excuse for getting upset like I have been today. I hope you guys can forgive me.”

Everyone assures him that they forgive him, most of them have dealt with actual spoiled celebrities and Harry was just having a bad day (which still really wasn’t that bad.)

“Okay, come on, bunny,” YN agrees, satisfied and can’t help but smile a bit when she stands up and Harry automatically intertwines their fingers to hold her hand.

The sofa in his dressing room folds out to be a bed and they still had hours before the show.

Once they’ve locked the doo and settled down on the mattress - they’re both laying on their sides, facing each other.

“M’sorry, darlin’,” Harry whispers, “I haven’t been very nice t’you today. I was just upset about the gym thing and just being so tired.”

YN hums, combing throwing his fluffy curls with her fingers as his hands explore over her hips and belly like always.

“You always get like this every once in a while on tour, like a little spoiled popstar,” YN says softly, no sharpness in her tone, “You also need to be nice to your wife.”

“M’always nice t’my wife,” He mumbles childishly, leaning forward to nip at her chin, “I am sorry, know tha’ when I act like that it embarrasses you.”

“You’re better than acting like that,” YN reminds him, allowing him to tug her into his warm, now bare chest, “I’m never gonna let you turn into some fame monster. You’re gonna stay the kind, funny, compassionate person I met when I was young.”

And when YN doesn’t get a reply, she glances to see Harry’s eyes shut, mouth slightly parted as he breathes rhythmically and his entire face relaxes as he sleeps.

“Still my boy,” YN murmurs lovingly, nuzzling before letting sleep overtake her.

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

HSLOT SAINT LOUIS

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Harry was doing his same script, he’s been starting every show but addressing the circular stage.

“Sometimes you’ll get m’face and sometimes you’ll get m’ass. Please, let me know if y’have a preference,” He gives the crowd a cocky grin, it widens when the audience goes insane with whistles and screams.

YN is standing off to the side, where she always stands with Harry’s friends and family who come and go - visiting them.

Harry’s eyes dart to his wife, when he sees her rolls her eyes at him, he points at her, speaking right into the microphone, “And you’ll be gettin’ the ass baby!”

The arena is near deafening with the fans who are fawning and cooing at the couples interactions, they all look back to YN.

She blows him a kiss and he dramatically snatches, smacking it right on his backside with a cheeky wink and purse of his lips.

He goes on with the show in his stunning red outfit that fit for Saint Louis perfectly - YN was matching him in a dark satin orange slinky dress that was undeniably sexy. It had Harry feeling her up backstage before he went on. ***

The fans loved that the couple matched at every concert.

YN loved watching her husband perform and after that comment about her getting his ass…well, it gave her some ideas for later.

The way the shirt he was wearing wasn’t buttoned enough so she could see the glisten on his chest, how the trousers hugged his perky backside like a sin.

It may be wrong, but everybody in this arena wanted him.

They want to hug him, kiss him, blow him, fuck him - but the only one who got that was her and she basked in it.

As Harry finishes with Kiwi, losing his absolute shit, YN and everyone else starts to head backstage. YN waves to a few fans and stops for a selfie or two before disappearing.

When Harry runs back to join, after dashing from center stage, he automatically finds his wife and wraps her up into a tight hug.

“Ew, bun. You’re extra sweaty, you definitely need to go shower,” YN crinkles her nose, pushing him off as he does stink a bit and is just sticky from sweat.

Usually, Harry would coerce his wife into joining him but they had quite a few friends who came to see the concert and YN was expected to entertain them.

“I’ll be thinkin’ about you, flower,” He teases, nipping her ear before chatting with their friends for a moment before he’s trailing off to shower and change.

YN waits a few minutes, enough time to guarantee he was already in the shower - soaping up.

She punches in the code to his locked dressing room, a soft smirk on her face as she steps over where he’s strewn the orange ensemble to purposefully piss off Harry Lambert - like always.

When she opens the bathroom door, she makes sure to be as quiet as possible - same as when she shuts and locks it behind her.

It a modern, standard shower stall and Harry is standing facing away from his wife - scrubbing his hair roughly to get the styling gel and grime out.

Harry’s shoulders are so broad.

His back is just…beautiful.

It’s so muscular, defined, and strong as he flexes his arms forward. Then her eyes trail down to his backside.

His bum was small, she loved to tease him and pinch it but it was muscular as well from those squats and wall sits he does in the gym.

After she quickly undresses, she steps in behind him into shower - pressing her chest up against his wet back and wrapping her arms around his waist.

Harry startles, nearly jumping out of his own skin before huffing out a laugh and leaning back into his wife, relaxing - well more like melting as he puts his weight on her.

“Thought y’were some crazy fan,” He jokes, hand coming down to cup the hers on his waist but frowning when she pulls back.

“Against the wall,” YN murmurs firmly, pushing him gently until his chest is against the tile and the shower head is pounding on his back and shoulders.

Harry shuffles forward, willingly albeit confused about what was going on and his wife’s demeanor as the cold of the wall hardens his nipples.

“Baby? Y’alright-“

“Did you wash yourself up already?” YN asks directly, hands rubbing softly at his sides, squeezing where his mini love handles are.

“M’body? Yeah, why-“

She cuts him off again, lips on his shoulder blade, “You told the crowd and me that I was getting your ass. I’m just holding you to your word.”

And when Harry realizes what’s about to go down, he lets out a low, explicit moan that echos throughout the bathroom.

“Yeah, baby, yeah,” He babbles excitedly, it wasn’t like this was something rare for them. They normally incorporated ass play into their sex life.

It was something about catching him off guard, when he’s vulnerable, and the post-show adrenaline has already worn off - making him malleable and pliant for his wife.

“You want to be all cocky, arrogant on stage, right? But look at you now, whining for your wife to touch you,” YN teases sharply, hand drifting down to squeeze his cheek hard enough to make him squeak.

“Baby. I’m yours, I’m yours,” He gasps, voice turning into a raspy yet high begging tone.

It was a tone of his voice that nobody in that crowd had or would ever hear. No, it was saved for her when she had him like this, like nobody else ever will.

“You don’t think I know that, Harry?” His wife laughs, fingers moving to sneak between his cheeks, pressing tightly against where he’s aching for her.

She continues, “God, I think everyone knows your mine. You can’t keep your eyes off me during the concert, parade around your wedding band, make sure my tattoo is always visible.”

“It’s ‘cause you- oh fuck, s’cause y’my soulmate,” Harry moans, pushing back on her fingers - wanting more but she wasn’t willing, “Need more, darlin’, m’close.”

She really wasn’t even doing much beside pressing at him, pushing in just the tiniest amount but he was grinding his hips against the wall a bit and her tits felt so good on his back.

Sometimes when he came off stage, he had absolutely no stamina.

Normally he could last but when he was adrenaline high and had basically edge himself in front of tens of thousands of people, it wasn’t going to be a long event.

“That’s really sad, H. Reminding me of when we were teenagers and you couldn’t last,” YN ends her rude statement with a bite to his shoulder before dragging her teeth down a bit.

It was just fun to get Harry worked up, he still acted the same from when they were younger - he’d get bratty and demanding, whiney, his chest and neck bloom into a soft pink color, and his eyes are a bit wet.

“Still just as much of a fool f’you, tha’s why,” Harry puffs out, hands continuously clenching and releasing over and over against the wall - like he wants to just make Harry wife touch him, tortured by her teasing.

“Fine, fine,” YN simpers, as if he was being a pain but she slips down onto her knees - hands dragging down his back and then his lean, solid thighs.

But in typical Harry behavior, he turns back and looks over his shoulder, “Sunflower, y’knees? We can move out of the shower.”

“Shush up,” She accentuates her words with a heavy handed smack to his right cheek and she chuckles when he gasps out a quiet, “Fuck.”

YN cups his cheeks, spreading them and leaning forward.

As soon as her tongue hits where he’s hot and tight, his legs twitch, and he puts his hands on the wall to brace himself.

“Darling, baby, baby,” Harry mewls, pushing back for more and hissing when she licks into him - his ring-bare hand leaning back to thread into her hair.

YN was planning to draw this out but she only gets a few directed laps before he’s moaning obsencenly, loud enough to hear through the god damn arena.

And then he’s gripping his cock, giving one firm tug, and he’s coming with pants and unfiltered, inconsiderate shouts of pleasure.

“S’good, m’good wife. S’no one better than you. Y’the only one who makes me feel like this. Crave y’like a drug, flower,” He praises endlessly, he turns around and helps her up - kissing her harshly.

When his hand comes to sneak between her thighs, she shakes her head and murmurs, “We don’t have time, H. Everyone is waiting on us.”

He pouts with his swollen pink lips, “I’ll take care of y’are the hotel, promise.”

“Mm,” She agrees, scrubbing the leftover shampoo bubbles from his hair as he tucks his face into her neck and tries make himself smaller.

Harry always gets a little sheepish after she does anything that makes him feel vulnerable, needs reassurance from her.

“Only with you, m’yours. Y’own my heart, ‘ave since we were fifteen,” Harry murmurs into her neck.

When they get themselves together, dressed, and exit the bathroom into the dressing room.

Harry Lambert is irritated as he is picking Harry’s clothing off the floor and putting it back on the hanger.

The stylist gives them a look, a knowing look, as he hangs the trousers on the rack.

“Fuck off,” The singer huffs, tugging his wife by the hand out of the room and to the car waiting for them.

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

NASHVILLE II

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~~~

When YN first heard the song Watermelon Sugar - well she was not only scandalized but also secretly honored that her husband wrote a song solely on eating her out.

They had been in their Los Angelos home, which had a separate guest house which had been converted into a studio.

She was already up in bed, watching a movie and drawing some new merch designs on her tablet as Harry wrote with his friends in the studio.

Usually, she would have been in there as well but Harry had shooed her out like he sometimes did when he wanted to surprise her with a song.

Her phone rings when she’s nearly asleep and it’s her husband, “Hi bug, will y’come down t’the studio. I just finished a song and wanted t’show you.”

Not previously mentioned was why YN was so exhausted on this particular night.

Earlier in the evening

YN had been tucking some laundry into their washing machine when Harry was trudged through the door - back from a dusk run.

“Sweetheart,” His voice was gruff, a rough gravel that YN knew well - the instant reaction was to start to get wet.

She doesn’t even have time to turn around before he’s crowding behind her, sweaty and warm, pinning her hips to the machine and kneeling down.

His hands quickly shimmy down her cotton shorts and thong then he grips her one thigh and hikes it up until she keeps it like that.

Then he’s spreading her cheeks with his large palms and licking her from the hood of her clit all the way to the back entrance.

“Jesus,” YN groans, reaching forward to steady herself but only managing to knock over the a bottle of detergent, “Wha-shit, what brought this on?”

Harry doesn’t respond right away, suckling on her bud before slipping down to dart into her entrance again and again.

He pulls back for a moment, face already damp and lips a pretty swollen pink, “Was just runnin’, started thinkin’ about y’cunt and how much I love eating it.”

YN manages to roll her eyes, “So romantic.”

Harry dimples at her, kissing at her cheek before tacking on, “Also ‘ow much I love you, love when y’give me y’belly.”

“Mmm, that’s better,” She huffs out a laugh that turns into a moan when he spins her around and presses her right back up against the cold metal.

He tugs one of her legs over his shoulder so she more open to him, nosing through her folds to find where she’s sweetest.

YN was an expecting a good orgasm but she wasn’t expecting him to give her three of them against their laundry machine in a row.

By the time her legs were near jello and she was throbbing with overstimulation, he finally pulls back and kisses all over her mound before murmuring, “Y’taste s’fuckin’ sweet, eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

And when YN enters the studio, Harry is pulling her onto his lap, and Tyler’s twiddling with the soundboard until it starts playing.

“Tastes like strawberries, on a summer evening. And it sounds just like a song. I want your belly and that summer feeling. It’s so wonderful and warm.”

“Oh my god, you didn’t, Harry,” YN groans, smacking her hand to her forehead and is completely unable to meet the gaze of anyone else in the room.

“S’gonna be the second single, we think,” Harry kisses her shoulder and then the nape of her neck - uncaring of his friends watching.

“I don’t know if I could ever go without.”

“I mean, that must be some bomb ass pussy,” Ben jokes - he’s newer to the team and doesn’t know the unsaid rules amongst his friends - don’t even joke about YN.

“Watch y’fuckin’ mou-“ Her husband begins but she puts her hand over his mouth and looks him in the eye.

“You think that’s the worst you’re gonna hear if you put this song out?” YN asks him with a small smile, kissing his nose before removing her hand.

“I won’t put it on the album if y’dont want me to,” Harry murmurs sincerely, palming at her belly.

“Do it,” YN challenges, she’s usually not very egocentric but she wouldn’t find her husband releasing a ballot about how much he loves her body.

When the song comes out, everyone goes absolutely wild with the crude connotations of the song - it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what the song is about.

In an interview with Zane Lowe, the man tries to get Harry to spill about the song and if it’s really about oral sex but Harry just smirks and avoids the question like the media-trained popstar he is.

But it all comes to a head when one of his favorite interviewers, Rob Sheffield from Rolling Stones, and he presses Harry.

It was backstage, before night two at Nashville night two, and they were sat alone in his dressing room before showtime.

And Harry may or may not reveal that the song was based on some martial affairs he partakes in with his wife after wanting the interview to just end.

When he’s on stage that night, he decides to just say fuck it, and give the people what they want - they’ll already know once the article’s released.

He looked unfairly handsome in a silk suit vest and matching trousers, tattoos displayed, muscles gleaming in the light.

“Taste like…” He teases the audience as he saunters around the circular stage, “And it sounds just like a…”

“So this song is about…” Harry smiles at the fans, “Well it’s not really important what’ s’about….it’s about the female orgasm.”

And the crowd absolutely roars with shocked applause and whistles as his eyes find his wife’s who is kissing the back of her lips - she looked gorgeous too, in a pair of jeans and at halter that was the same fabric and color of his ***

He’s in trouble, so he says fuck it…once again and digs himself a deeper hole.

“And I just want t’thank my wife f’the inspiration.”

YN avoids the gazes of all the fans who look back at her and snap pictures - she chooses to instead flip her husband off which makes him bark out a laugh.

Harry jogs backstage, after another amazing show, to see his very unamused wife, waiting for him with crossed arms.

“Darlin’-“

“I heard you told Rob how much I inspired the song, with my ‘sweetness’,” YN interrupts with a raised brow as Harry’s hand comes to her hip.

“He pulled it out of me, don’t be cross w’me, baby,” Harry begs, leaning in to kiss her softly but she shakes him off.

“Dressing room, now,” YN bites out, turning on her heel and wasting no time storming off - everyone staring at Harry, knowing how much shit he’s in.

“Told you not to put it on the album,” Jeff jokes, smacking him on the back as walks past.

“Go fuck y’self,” Harry grumbles dejectedly, trailing after his wife - he really didn’t mean to upset or embarrass her.

He gets caught up with a few questions from the crew before he makes it to his wife.

And when he steps into the dressing room, he has to slam the door quickly to make sure no one else sees that his gorgeous naked spouse is on the couch - legs spread and that same raised eyebrow,

“If it’s that good then fucking show me,” YN orders with a edge, her fingers slowly crawling up her thighs to the crease of her folds.

She dips them into between, coming back with glistening digits, “You’re filthy for talking about eating out your wife to the whole world.”

Harry’s eyes are wide, excited and heart pounding now even more than it did onstage as he gets to his knees in front of her.

He opens willingly when she slips her wet fingers into his mouth and he automatically sucks on them, eyes heavy as they look at her.

“How’s it taste?”

“S’sweet, baby, s’so good. Why did y’think I wrote a song dedicated t’your pussy?” Harry rasps when he’s able to talk again.

“Then fucking do your job,” YN quips, tugging him down to where she’s warm and just delectable - takes no time for him to develop a rhythm of fucking his tongue into her until she’s pushing her hips into his face and she takes control.

After she’s come of his tongue, he sits up to unbutton his trousers and tuck his cock into her but she stops him.

“With all the bullshit you’ve pulled today, you can wait until the hotel.”

And Harry was a very unhappy camper when he realized they were going out for drinks after and not going straight back to the hotel.

Harry Styles Finally Confesses to the Meaning Behind His Hit Song!

I sat down with the popstar backstage at his sold-out Nashville show for the second night in a row.

The dressing room were we interviewed was littered with gucci throw pillows and scented candles.

I noticed that not only his clothing racks were filled with his own outfits but matching dresses for the missus. I had to bring it up.

Rob: The fans go absolutely wild over the fact that your wife wears matching ensembles with you.

Harry seems to have a permanent smile when talking about her, he even unconsciously looks over his shoulder to see if he can see her.

Harry: It was a joke at first but then as I chose my outfits for tour. Harry Lambert, my stylist, also planned hers and he came up with the idea. She always outdoes me though, I can’t compete with her.

Rob: I have to ask, not many rockstars have their wives on tour like you do. It could seem like a bit of a buzzkill.

I have a good enough rapport with the artist that it doesn’t shut down the interview but his boyish smile disappears into something more stormy.

Harry: I don’t see how having my best friend and love of my life on tour could be a buzzkill. It makes the experience better by tenfold.

Rob: She’s been touring with you since the early days of One Direction, correct?

Harry: She has. We were dating before the band had formed. She came to my x-factor audition with me.

Rob: Does it ever bother you that you might have missed out on experiences? The typical rockstar’s job of sleeping with new women in each city?

I know at this point, I’m pushing my luck with the usually mild-mannered man. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere else and is distracting himself by fussing with wedding band.

Harry: I would have to disagree. I think it’s much more spiritual and special to experience all these things with one person which whom you have a intimate bond with. If you’re satisfied in your relationship, you don’t have any desire for anyone else.

Rob: You and YN had broken up for a few short months during your 1D days. During that time, did you sleep around?

Harry: I’m not discussing my relationship or my body count with you. It wasn’t a good time for me but I didn’t do the ‘rockstar’ experience that you’re talking about.

Rob: You were the talk of the town when you proposed to her at only nineteen.

Harry: I knew I wanted to marry her since I was fifteen. We have very low standards nowadays for people. It’s really not that fucking absurd that I married my highschool sweetheart.

The artist was 100% on the defensive now with tense shoulders and a gruff voice. He was protective of his relationship - that much was obvious.

Rob: I mean I’d marry someone who inspired a song like Watermelon Sugar.

Harry: Is this interview over?

His tone is only mildly joking.

Rob: Okay, okay. I’ll move on to less evasive questions if you’ll just answer this one. Settle the record, Styles. What is the song about and who inspired it.

Harry: If my wife kills me, tell everyone to blame you. It’s a song about the intimacy and pleasure of oral sex, the female orgasm. If you can’t figure out who inspired it, that’s on you. Next question?

—

I hope you enjoyed it!

if you liked please reblog, recommended, like, and come talk to me about it!

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

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MLBRRY! KIDS

Peace & Quiet: A day where YN is just irritated at every little thing Harry does.

Curious Gazes: Four times people have run into the Style’s family in public and maybe their perceptions change.

Separation: When they really Ezra may be more anxious than normal and may need therapy.

Cramp: Sometimes you have to fake a cramp to get your way. 🔥

Waitin’ For You: A fall day where Harry plays in the leaves with his kids as he reminiscing about what life was like before this.

Redeemable: Sometimes H deserves a little extra credit for his hard work 🔥

Just Not Happening: Getting four kids ready for a Yankees Halloween party is a chore - it doesn’t go as planned.

Vogue Beauty Secrets: YN does a video for Vogue with some interruptions from her husband and babies.

Let’s Pretend: Harry and YN are always there for Ezzie.

The Steps: The first time Ezra has to go sit on the steps.

Good Little Luck Charms: Someone at the studio thought it’d be a good idea to put mics on the kids while they watch their dad play

Always Accepting: Harry always wants to be the best role model for his children that he can so when Ezra shows interest in getting his nails painted - well that’s an easy one to work through.🔥

Dr. Pepper and Nail Polish: They might not be the most traditional presents but he loves them either way

So.Fucking.Easy: YN knows how to get him, he’s like clockwork and it doesn’t ever get any less hot 🔥

Need You Home: Sometimes she just can’t handle all the kids by herself

Always Thinkin’ Of You: Ezra is upset that Harry had left him for so long.

So Pretty, It’s Blinding: What really happened in the Baltimore dugout. 🔥

Keep This Moment: Sometimes all the need is some soft and slow loving. 🔥

Hot As They Come: YN’s a little insecure about her body and that just won’t do. 🔥

When The Hubby’s Away: She gets caught red-handed 🔥

The Love Birds: They can’t even tone down the fondness for each other

The First Night: When Easton comes home

Gone Too Long: YN doesn’t want to let Harry know how hard it can be

#erodsafishtacos masterlist

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

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GANGRRY ONE SHOTS

Better Than We Had: They don’t always agree on how to parent their babies but they do know that they want what’s best for them.

Just Tell Me: YN is actually in trouble and Harry is still figuring out how to express how he feels. 🔥

Always Give You More: She doesn’t always express her feelings in the most productive, healthy way. 🔥

Irrevocably Hers: Just because YN portrays herself as confident, it doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel a bit of jealously sometimes🔥

Broken Wing: How did they get to the point where they actually wanted to date each other?

Fuckin’ Brat: It wouldn’t be a normal night with a power struggle 🔥

Two Little Chances: Harry really didn’t want kids but then things changed

The Bet: It stinks that Niall is always losing 🔥

#erodsafishtacos masterlist #gang!harry masterlist

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

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Harry was looking forward to bringing Ezra to the field with him today.

It was just a day of light stretching and game planning with the team - only about a three hour day before intensive training tomorrow.

The two older boys are up at Anne’s - YN is out of town for the day to go to a friend’s baby shower with Briar and won’t be home until later.

Ezra was super anxious this morning and absolutely refused to be dropped off with his nana.

He had already woke up disgruntled when it was his father and not his mama - out of his normal routine off the start.

Easton and Cash automatically go running into Anne’s house, chasing off the cat before getting distracted by the cookies she had left baked on the kitchen counter.

He has Ezra on his hip and when he leans down, trying to set his feet on the floor - his son adamantly refuses to stand.

“No! No daddy, no!” Ezra protested, scrambled to hold onto his father with a angry screech.

“Whoa, okay. Okay, bubba,” Harry replies, picking him back up and rocking him a bit, “Feelings? Happy, sad, mad?”

“Mad,” He huffs without elaborating, small fist gripping his father’s shirt to guarantee he won’t be put down.

“Come to Nana?” Anne suggests, reaching out her arms for him.

“No no no,” He lisps, other hand moving up to tug at his father’s hair gently to get his point across, “No daddy, don’t leave me.”

Yeah, well Harry can’t say no to one of his babies asking him to not leave them.

So here Harry is, walking through the stadium hallways with his youngest son on his hip - dressed in an adorable dinosaur tracksuit *** and his current favorite doll ***.

When people wave and greet them, Ezra nuzzles into his father’s chest to hide shyly unlike his older brothers who would be going up and high-fiving everyone.

When they get onto the field, a few people try to come up to make conversation but anytime his attention is elsewhere - his son’s hand comes to pat his face as if to remind him that he’s there.

“Alright, where going to start with butterfly hamstring stretches,” Chris, one of the trainer, orders.

All the players oblige, including Harry who sits down and Ezra stands next to him - looking around curiously.

While all the men are laid on their backs with their arms and legs straight up and down, Harry loses sight of his son.

He sits up, sees Ezra toddling through the players, away from him - baby doll dragging in his hand as he looks around with wide curious eyes.

“Ezra,” Harry calls over the blasting rap music and the trainer yelling, “Ezra Duke.”

His son turns around to meet his father’s gaze.

“Get y’bum back to daddy, please,” Harry asks, patting the grass next to him.

“No no no,” His favorite word right now and he starts toddling away faster like it’s a game.

Harry has to leave his stretching position, takes a few long strides, and scoops up his mini-me, “Y’gotta listen to daddy, don’t tell me no.”

“Mama,” Ezra whimpers, “Want m’mama.”

“I know, sweetheart. Mama’s out with Briar right now,” He simpers, kissing his temple and carrying him back to his spot.

As Harry is stretching by having his legs spread and leaning over to touch his toes when Ezra pats his shoulder and tries to hand him his baby.

“Feed the baby,” Ezra demands, brow furrowed and lip pouted out as he presses the toy into his father’s chest.

“Can’t play right now, Ezzie,” He murmurs to his son but soon realizing this means a meltdown.

And he was right.

Ezra plops on his bum, throws his doll at his father, and begins to sob hysterically.

“Hey, we don’t throw things when we’re mad. S’not nice? Y’understand?” Harry says firmly, gently gripping his son’s chin.

He ignores his teammates who are chuckling because Harry is notorious for breaking bats and throwing things when he’s upset.

Ezra snatches his doll back and makes a run for it, his little feet taking him as fast as they can as everyone watches on with humor.

“Son of a -“ Harry mutters, springing up and chasing after him before grabbing him and lugging him up onto his hip again, “I’m sorry, I have t’go. I’ll see y’guys tomorrow.”

With that, Harry is toting his crying son through the hallways and out to the car. He can’t be upset with him, knows that he hates his routine changed and not having his mom.

“Daddy, daddy,” He whimpers as Harry ticks him into his car seat, “Want m’mama.”

“I know, honey. Soon, okay?” He assures his son, about to close the door when Ezra squeaks.

“Kissy?”

“Y’gonna tell daddy tha’ y’sorry for throwing y’baby doll?” Harry asks, kissing his son’s forehead and then an extra one to his nose.

“Sorry f’throwing my baby,” He repeats with sad eyes, knuckling at them as they get heavy with drowsiness.

Ezra refuses to go to bed until his mother walks in the door.

He usually goes down at seven but it’s currently eight and constantly looking at his father and asking, “Mama?”

“I miss y’mama too,” Harry laughs, knowing she’s about to walk in any minute with their baby daughter who he’d also missed terribly.

“Hello?” A voice calls from the entryway, door opening and then shutting quietly.

“Mama!” Ezra squeals, his voice cracking as he starts blubbering, “Mama mama!”

“Oh hush, why the tears?” YN smiles softly when Ezra runs into her shins and begs to be picked up.

Harry excitedly goes over to the carrier where Briar is looking up at her dad with wide, bright eyes and when she sees who it is - she gives him a wide smile and babbles, “Daddadada.”

“There’s my lil’ mama,” Harry coos happily, heart melting when his daughter giggles when he picks her up and nuzzles her cheek, “And there’s m’baby mama.”

They kiss for a quick moment before she asks, “Why’s the bub still up?”

“Absolutely refused to go to bed without his mama,” Harry tells her, wincing when Briar nibbles on his finger, “Can’t blame ‘em. I can’t sleep without y’either.”

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