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#i use humor as a defense mechanism

eddieunbanished · 17 days

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Star Dust, Angel Dust

Anthony Donatiello was going to be a star.

The dark cinema was buzzing. The joint was full of his family and friends- the place rented out just for them. Not that he thought his uncle’s meathead friends or his cousins cared much for motion pictures, unless they were the kiddie vaudeville types. They just didn’t have the taste Anthony did. Molly liked movies all right, but mostly because she knew Anthony did. She did anything he wanted, went where he went, liked what he liked; even if she didn’t, really.

He sat back in the big seat- his feet just reaching the floor. His frame was slight even at eleven, when most of the other kids his age were sprouting up and out. He was hardly any bigger than Molly was, the two of them identical pointy limbs and round, pinched-cheek faces. Though Ma said he’d hit his growth spurt any day now and be taller than all of them, and be on his way to becomin’ a big man like his papa.

Anthony wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that. He loved his papa, sure. But when he dreamt of who he would be as an adult, it wasn’t his father’s stubbly jaw line and gruff voice he imagined.

It was Roman Novaro, with his slender frame and shiny hair. It was Colleen Moore and her wire-thin dainty eyebrows and shiny bead-embroidered dresses.

It was Clara Bow.

On the silver screen, Clara Bow’s big round eyes were pinched in anger as she was waving her cutesy little gun around (He didn’t know what she thought that little thing would do- he’d seen bigger guns in his pop’s bathroom), looking for all the world like she was about to jump out of the ten foot tall screen and into the room.

Clara was the ultimate star- she had the face, the legs, the smile. She was everything. People called her the “it” girl- on the cover of every magazine, in every department store window on posters for perfume and powder- and always, always with all eyes on her.

She was an angel.

Anthony had fallen in love with her the first time he’d seen her on screen with her thin painted lips and the way they quirked up in an impish smile. He’d made his mama take him to the cinema to see the movie three times. He practiced that smile in the bathroom mirror every morning for a week.

Ladies of the Mob had been a funny choice for a family outing, looking back. Not that he’d really known then that the family business was anything more than some vague investment company or something else equally as vague and boring as shit to an eleven year old. He just thought that maybe all investment companies came with family bodyguards who were also his cousins- and also cousins that weren’t really cousins but they called them that anyway. And didn’t every family have weapon stashes in every room of the house? His pops always said protecting his family came first!

Next to him in the dark, Molly elbowed him gently and held out the little bag of popcorn for him to take a handful. Her big blue eyes were still locked on the screen as Clara’s lover, the poor crook who Clara was trying so hard to make a better man, grabbed her by the arms and shook her passionately. Anthony felt the tension rise as their faces got closer together and her lover shook her again, the piano music swelling. The gun fell from Clara’s hand as she stared up at her fella’s furious face.

“Don’t you know I love ya, ya dumb broad?” The title card read.

Clara shook her head, moving her perfectly painted lips. Anthony mirrored her expression, copying the way she turned down the corners of her mouth.

“Well, you have a mighty good way of showing it.”

He yanked her forward with force until they were just an inch away, his mouth mumbling words that made Anthony’s tummy flip and his eyebrows go up in surprise just the same as Clara’s on screen.

“I’ll show you good.”

He crashed his mouth to Clara’s- Anthony didn’t have to look at his sister to know Molly had clapped one hand over her eyes. She still thought kissing was gross, the little baby. But he didn’t ever want to look away. In the darkness with stars in his little eyes, Anthony puckered his lips, instinctively copying Clara.

Someone was gonna kiss him like that someday.

“You're gonna be a star, Angel baby.”

That's what Val had told him when they first met in the corner of a hazy strip club. The moth demon had paid for private dances at the club, rented out rooms for days just to monopolize Angel's time and attention. And Angel took the compliment and the cash, batted his lashes and let Val flash even more bills than the day before or the day before. He was buying bottle after bottle without care. Hell, he was practically pouring the shit out on the floor. What did Val care? He could buy the whole bottling plant if he wanted. He had money, he had power, he had people falling at his feet.

So who could blame Angel if he fell, too?

Well. He sure as fuck could blame himself. He'd been stupid. Naive.

Val had been good to him, at the start. For a long while, Angel was a free man who went where he wanted and did what and who he wanted. And who he wanted was Val. He ate up the gifts; the clothes, the free meals, the sex- he was peppered with kisses and pet names and promises and in return when Val was mean, Angel told himself that was the shit he was into anyway. Even if he wasn't really into how Val did it.

And he wasn't mean outside of bed, anyway- Angel would never let that happen to him. He watched, tucked under Val's wing as he was cruel and ruthless to waitstaff, employees, dancers, bartenders. Didn't matter. That would never be him. He was Angel Baby, his star, Amorcito. He was special.

Stupid. Naive. And humble, as ever.

Anthony never got to be a star. But Angel was. His face was everywhere. His legs and ass were in even more places.

Just like Clara, he thought to himself with satisfaction when he looked in the mirror before a shoot, giving himself bedroom eyes and admiring himself.

Just like Clara? He thought to himself with a bitter pit in his stomach when he looked in a mirror after Val manhandled him. kissed him so hard it hurt. Talked over him. Didn't listen when he asked for a pause, a moment to catch his breath.

Breaks were not in the budget, on or off set.

Angel Dust was a star. But Anthony was curled up in bed, the only one who ever loved him right snuffling at his tear stained cheeks. He drew Fat Nuggets in tighter to his chest, letting him nuzzle his neck and snort sweetly.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #angel dust #angel dust hazbin hotel #valentinto tw too i guess but its nothign thats not in the show #this is just me stretching my fingers and getting used to writing engel it hink #angel I think*#also its just me having fun w the idea of him being a baby in the 20s w it girls and slay queens and clara bow shooting to fame #also dont we all love the reflection on childhood dreams when youre an adult who feels like you're a failure!!#anyway I'm working on an actual fic thats half done and I'm injecting more humor because i love this side of angel #but i also love the humor and the funny little sex jokes and the haughtiness as a defense mechanism #and husk i love husk so much im obsessed w that stupid cat

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plutosfallenangel · 1 year

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Random Moon Sign Observations | pt.II

(*based on personal experiences and opinions. look at the whole natal chart to gain complete insight, some aspects/house placements can make contradictions to the below information*)

• Scorpio Moon •

-always watching, taking it all in..

-knows most of the answers to questions before they ask

-dry humor (which I personally love)

-passionate about whatever they put their mind to, no half or 50% effort (they do have to be emotionally bonded to the person or hobbie/task, if not, they're redirecting their energy elsewhere)

-prone to becoming hyperfocused on one specific thing (most times to their detriment)

-mommy issues (but they don't talk about them, and hate when you assume you know the relationship dynamic, it's a very unique relationship dynamic and overtime it can grow to be stronger or more distant)

-deep conversations if they trust you, which is hard to gain. Trust is earned through sacrifice most times.. even if something small, they need to see you prove your loyalty and trust)

-the one I would call to bury a body (jokes pls)

-doesn't like to make assumptions, uses their earned knowledge on human behavior, they will study those around them like a case study, only to come to their own conclusions after seeing all the "facts". They can be extremely patient in this act too... they want to know you from the inside out

-sensitive to shifts in the mood, but again.. most times they will keep this information inside and watch, study you to see why it shifted

• Sagittarius moon •

-life of the party (unless heavy earth placements, bedtime comes sooner than later especially with age)

-will be the one you can call to come help you get your car stuck out of the mud, or go biking in the backwoods.. just down for anything and personally I love that about them

-can be too concerned about keeping the good times rolling, doesn't always directly express emotions.. but it's more like a dark joke, everything is turned into a joke, you just need to decipher it most times. And if it's not turned into a joke, they will laugh after they tell you horrible news. Imo a defense mechanism

-may lack boundaries when it comes to those they connect with emotionally, this isn't always a bad thing, they're coming from a place of exploration... like "how far can you and I go?" However sometimes I find they are the most capable of staying in bad situations, always trying to see the good in everyone

-can start a campfire with their bare hands, or atleast minimal tools, very attracted to fire.. find them near a fire all year round if its possible for them to do so

-can sometimes be sneakier than Scorpio moons.. when they set their eye on something in the distance that they want, they go about it most times in silence (this does depend on which house the moon is in)

-big lovers, big emotions, and larger than life dreams

-facial expressions for DAYS! I love how expressive they are.. warm smiles

-definitely rebellious in their younger years

-doesn't like to be tied down by family, but can adapt (most often moves away from mother)

• Capricorn moon •

- lives by the work hard, play harder motto

-always learns the hard way, doesn't like to take advice, rather learn through experience

-tells you like it is when you ask for relationship advice

-too many responsibilities when they were young, even if they had a good solid foundation growing up and were provided for, the expectations put on them were very heavy

-its never "how are you feeling", more "do you need anything?" and I love them for it

-happiest when they're putting themselves into something they can build on long-term, when they don't have that they can spiral FAST

-these people can drink.. and when I say drink, they're the ones to clear a 12-pack and act like they're still sober (from my experience lol)

-in my experience is much of a mommy's girl/boy as cancer moons are (esp when they're young.. they always want to take care of their mom)

-very in tune with the weather, I notice they most times have allergies or can feel a storm coming from how their body reacts

-big provider energy, but they can feel like they can't accept help from others, and end up toughing out the storm by themselves.. this is often from early childhood experiences that breed the need for extreme independence in some form

• Aquarius moon •

-they are on their own energetic wavelengths together, all aqua moons come here for a very specific reason that aligns with what society needs to be shifted/changed.. no matter how big or small the reputation they have they make an impact on those around them. Most are well-known in their local community

-big futures/big dreamers.. these people can see themselves 10 years down the road when you ask them where they'll be, they might not have a CLUE how to get there (depending on the rest of the chart) but they'll always have a sense of direction intuitively on how to get there

-can become way too overanalyzing of their own feelings and that of others.. over thinkers. They can have a hard time reading emotional encounters in the moment.. they need some time to brew with it, read into it, and for them it's easy to sit with these memories of emotion because aqua is a fixed sign

-there is an inner hermit that exists within all of them, do NOT disturb them during their hermit hours

-doesn't give much energy out to people who do them wrong, or atleast out loud to others. They love to share stories about other people, but aren't the first ones to bring up drama when it happens

-their mom is supportive of their endeavors and always wishes the best for them.. I've never met an aqua moon that didn't have a supportive mom (again this does depend on the whole chart, esp 12H moons)

-naturally creative, most I know are very passionate about creative projects and can easily bury themselves in one for long periods of time

-most times they hate having to cancel plans, not because they dont want to go, it's because they hate feeling like they let someone down

-if they invite you to their house, they will make sure you feel at home

-big social circles, few close friends that understand them

-loves to share their viewpoints, but can have bad memories lol they tend to "misplace" memories, you never know what will trigger an old forgotten memory to come up only to dissappear again

-very smart, loves YouTube videos, emotional comfort documentaries

• Pisces Moon •

-can become their mothers "mother" in a sense, their mom might rely on them a lot

-doesnt mind crying infront of others, and for me I admire this... let it out!! There's NO shame in it! (Just don't do it to manipulate others obv)

-vivid imagination, lucid dreamers, I have a 12H moon and often find myself bonding over dream stories with them

-doesn't mind disappearing until they feel up to being social, just don't forget to check in on them, they love compassion

-i often see when they share their emotions and unfortunate stories with others that it causes them to open up too, they love to hold emotional space for people especially those closest

-can often feel the "blame" from others even if it's not theirs, they can feel like they're always doing something wrong or someone is upset and it is because of them, which is most often not the case

-will decorate with a lot of pastels or a wide variety of colors in their home

-the best mentors in their life are women

-journals, journals, journals... let me into your mind palace

-soft poets, or amateur artists, this moon sign expresses a lot of emotion through art. Art helps them put a finger on how they're feeling. They channel divine messages and emotions through a craft, and even if it's not their own art they are connecting with, they will resonate with it and pass a message along to others that helps them understand something they need to at the time

-either early bedtime or no bedtime at all, creature of the night or morning star.. there's no in between with them

-being alone helps them process the most. Especially the shower lol they can process days worth of emotions in the shower I'm convinced

#astrology #astrology observations #astro observations #moon signs #astro community #astrology community #scorpio #scorpio moon #sagittarius moon #capricorn moon #aquarius moon #pisces moon

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girlbooklover555 · 1 month

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"Blue, lost and without memory."

percabeth x fem!reader (random moments with percy) I used Google Translator

WARNINGS : this is short ! corny? perhaps? ooc percy? blue obsessed percy

Annabeth version coming soon

▪︎ Percy Jackson

▪︎ you/reader

▪︎ annabeth chase

● Percy always carries ribbons or hair elastics in his pants/jacket pocket.

● Following you and annabeth he looks like a lost puppy

● On Halloween, do you want to wear matching costumes or do a draw and each person chooses the other's.

"Am I a fish?"

"You're Dory."

"Creative."

"Blue, lost and without memory."

"Dear!"

"My humor is a defense mechanism, Annie."

● Percy probably gets lost a lot in the bookstore and carries a lot of books.

"I'm not even in school and this is barbaric."

"Percy, help me get this blue book box?"

"Just because it's blue." Lie

● Percy looking with shining eyes at you and annabeth as you put on makeup in Aphrodite's cabin.

*Somehow he ends up with painted nails because some little kid asked for it, but it's okay because it's blue.*

#percabeth x reader #percy jackson x reader #percabeth #heroes of olympus #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo #riordanverse #rick riordan #annabeth chase x reader #annabeth chase #pjo hoo toa #hoo

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sunflower-lilac42 · 23 days

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✧ 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 | connor bedard ♔

summary: after falling short of a hat trick once again, connor feels the need to blame everything on himself and question why he's here in the first place.

warnings: connor not thinking he's good enough, sad connor, feelings of not being good enough, crying, writing errors bc i didn't proofread that well

published: 3/25/24

notes: this is my monthly fic so i hope you enjoy it, jkjkjkjk I'll try to be as active as i can on here this next week especially with me being in a car for eight hours tomorrow. (woohoo) anyway story notes -> this takes place after the arizona game, i was going to make this longer with them after the ducks game but i got too lazy to write it, so let me know if you want a part two to this fic. there are four things hopefully coming this week that aren't fics and maybe two or so fics also on my agenda so yeah | add yourself to the taglist ➺ taglist!

nhl masterlist | main masterlist

He knew he shouldn’t be upset. He played so well, got a three-point game tonight, but at the same time, this was his fourth time having a two-goal game and every time he came up short. It was hard to be the face of the franchise or to at least feel like it. He was supposed to be the savior of the Blackhawks, their golden boy, and lift them back up. How much pressure could you put on an 18-year-old?

He watched as Colin hit the puck into the empty net, the slightest bit of jealousy going through his eyes. He was telling himself not to think about it, the thought of him getting a hat trick shouldn’t have been a thought, he should be playing to win not to get his hat trick. But, the thought haunted him in the back of his mind, three failed attempts and he had to show everyone what he was capable of.

Though, as the final minute ticked down and he had been on the ice he knew his chances were nonexistent. He knew he wouldn’t be getting an opportunity to get that goal. He was proud of Colin and always proud of his teammates, but how happy could he be for others if he wasn’t happy with himself?

She was watching from her dorm room, her hands gripped tightly onto the arms of her chair as she kept her eyes glued to the TV screen. She knew they had a chance of winning this game, they beat them 5-2 just a few days ago so why couldn’t they now? Despite the Coyotes having two goals a couple of minutes into the second period, she kept her hopes up. When Connor scored not only once but twice before the end of the period she was elated.

She kept her prayers in her mind as she watched the last 20 minutes of the game, hoping that he would get his first career hat trick alongside Colin. He needed this so much, especially after the few games he had had. He needed to be reminded of how good he was and how the outcome of the game shouldn’t be reliant on him.

However, as soon as the clock ran out and it was game over, she felt horrible. She could see it in his face as he skated out as second star of the game. He deserved to and Colin deserved the first. But she knew he was taking it harder on himself.

She was kept updated on post-game through post-game live and the tweets she was getting. Her heart broke once she saw the one Mario tweeted, “If I was any good I would have put it in.”

She swore to himself, immediately going to make him some food and laying out some clothes for him to wear when he arrived. He was using humor to cover up how he felt, it was a defense mechanism that he used so often with not only the public but with her. She couldn’t count the number of times they were in the middle of a fight or he had come home after a game or the days that he would come back after practice after he got hurt he would throw a sarcastic comment or start laughing.

She sent him a quick text, telling him she would be waiting for him when he returned. She made sure things looked perfect in the sense that it didn’t look planned and everything was meticulously placed. The clothes she picked out were thrown in the bathroom and so was his towel, she made her dorm look a little more messy than she would like it but still clean.

When she heard the door unlock, she didn’t make a move from her room. She lived in one of the apartments with a couple of her friends. She didn’t complain when the older students took her in, just going with the flow. She heard footsteps come up the stairs and a quiet but prominent knock on her door and then the door clicked open. She looked up and smiled, placing her laptop to the side of her and getting up from the bed.

She walked over to him and opened her arms, allowing him to walk into them as he dropped his beg and let his head fall to her shoulder. She placed her left hand on the back of his head and her right hand wrapped around his torso. Her fingers scratched the base of his hair, slightly combing through his hair that he had grown out and the fingers on her right hand rubbed circles against his back. It was silent besides the soft sighs of Connor both from the long night and from the motions she was doing.

He turned his head so his nose was now stuck in the crook of her neck before leaving small kisses there. She smiled a little as he did it, knowing that he was slowly going back to his usual ways. He pulled away soon after and rested his forehead on hers before she spoke, “You wanna go take a shower?”

He only nodded and made his way to the bathroom. She went back downstairs to finish up dinner, reheating a few things and then bringing them back up. She set the plates on her desk and crawled into her bed and tried to find something to watch that they would both like. She decided on A New Hope, it was the first thing that popped up when she went onto Disney,

Connor came in around a couple minutes later and laid eyes on her as soon as he entered. This was one of his favorite things about coming to Chicago, was the fact that she came with him. The fact that her celebrating after winning still happened, the fact that she was comforting him after a loss still happened, the fact that she still gave him silly little gifts every once in a while still happened. It was the best feeling in the world.

He threw his clothes to the side, not particularly caring where they landed. He pulled himself up onto her bed and curled into her side, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning his head into her shoulder. She smiled down at him, lifting her free arm to run her fingers through his hair. The motion made him close his eyes and sigh, becoming more and more tired.

“You gotta eat, baby.”

He only shook his head in response. He didn’t feel like eating nor did he think he deserved to have one of her meals after the performance he had tonight. Her smile turned into a frown and turned her attention to the TV as her hand slowly came to a halt, still tangled in his hair. When her actions stopped, Connor pulled away and looked up at her, “Are you okay?”

Her eyes were dazed, “What? Yeah, why?”

“Because you became quiet all of a sudden.”

“I- you know how proud of you I am right?”

His eyebrows furrowed, “Where is this coming from, y/n/n?”

“I know you Connor, you always want to be the best. You always want to do everything you can. You always want to take the burden of not doing enough, take the burden of the loss.”

Connor looked ashamed, he wasn’t expecting this to happen tonight. He felt like he was being scolded by his mom at that moment. He looked up at her with his eyes but kept his head down. There was another beat of silence before y/n spoke again, “You’re eighteen. This franchise, this team, should not be putting this much pressure on you because everyone thinks you’re the next Wayne Gretzky. You should be allowed to be a kid, baby.”

He always knew how much he was grateful for y/n, she had been there with him through everything. But it was these moments that he was most grateful for, these moments that reminded him more than any others. The moments in which she made him feel like himself again, the ones where she reminded him that he was allowed to be a kid, that he doesn’t have to have all this pressure on him.

Without saying anything, he buried his head back into her chest as he practically clinged onto her like she would disappear at any moment. This time he allowed his tears to fall and they dampened her, his shirt. Her fingers resumed their motion, running through his hair. She didn’t know what to say anymore and truthfully Connor didn’t want her to say anything. He just wanted to be held by her and listen to whatever she had put on in the background.

After a few minutes she pulled away to cusp his face in her hands, “Foods getting cold sweetheart. You gotta eat.”

As much as he didn’t want to, he reluctantly nodded and allowed her to get up to reheat the food that had gone cold. When she came back Connor looked more like himself, he was sitting up right on the bed, his clothes were straightened out, his hair was flattened, and his face and eyes were rid of any evidence of tiredness and previous crying that he had done.

She gave him a soft smile before placing the plate in his lap and plopping herself down on the bed, “What do you want to watch?”

“I don’t care.”

She glared at him playfully, “Dude, I can never pick a movie you know this.”

“Do not call me dude.”

She could tell that her efforts of making Connor feel better were working, the smile that she loved ever so dearly was on his face and his eyes were lit up in the way that they did when he talked about hockey. She stretched her arm out and poked his stomach, “And why is that?”

“Because I am your boyfriend and you always call me baby or sweetheart.”

“Someone’s picky.” She turned away to face the tv and continued to look for something to watch.”

Connor discarded his plate onto her desk and pulled her into his lap, his arms wrapping around her waist. She let out a loud laugh and looked at him, “I love you.”

Connor smiled and kissed her forehead and then her lips. “I love you too. Thank you for being here.”

𝑪𝑯𝑰𝑪𝑨𝑮𝑶 𝑩𝑳𝑨𝑪𝑲𝑯𝑨𝑾𝑲𝑺 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

#sunny lune writes #connor bedard #cb98 #connor bedard x reader #nhl #hockey #nhl imagine #nhl hockey #chicago blackhawks #nhl blackhawks

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yanderenightmare · 4 months

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I have an honest question and I don't want to sound rude or anything at all but what's so interesting about CNC. Like I see people hype it up but to me it just feels like romanticizing r4pe..I'm not really into CNC so I can't talk bad or downplay whatever they do but I'm just asking because I want to understand it better.

A question I, by no means, can answer perfectly. However, in the spirit of philosophy and amateur psychology, I will lay unto you, ye who have keen ears, my theories.

Now, I am in no way a psychiatrist. However, as I am a woman who does a great deal of fantasizing and further thinking of what I fantasize about, I thought I might assume the role of a sexologist as it is no protected title.

I’ve long wondered why we (women) fantasize about things that would appall us if manifested in reality. It makes little sense that an act so ruining in practice should make us feel fulfilled when the mere thought of it is humored.

In the vast complexities of psychology, no matter how much I drink of its depths, I can’t seem to get my fill enough to understand it. Trying to figure out female arousal is like pulling hair from a clogged gutter and trying to undo all the knots. It’s a web of contradictions.

However…

First theory – there are cultural reasons. If we accept the inbuilt instincts of old and the instincts we adopt through media while growing up – all in all, the great history of aggressive men dominating passive women – we are conditioned to accept that this is what romance looks like.

Second theory – there are the emotional reasons. The "Beauty and the Beast" motif – featuring classic co-dependency. Women submit to abuse because we have an inbuilt need to nurture others – so when we love men who require to abuse and own us in order to love us, we somehow forget to protect ourselves in favor of loving them, which in this case means allowing them to abuse and own us. It's warped.

Third theory – there are psychological reasons. In fantasies and writing or viewing, we get to reframe traumatic experiences in a positive light or rework traumatic experiences in a safe environment – a form of psychological self-defense, much like Stockholm Syndrome or a type of self-inflicted Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Fourth theory – research has also been conducted regarding physiological reasons. Here, we have another inbuilt self-defense mechanism – a seldom talked-about phenomenon – which shows that women tend to become physically aroused when they sense any possibility of sexual aggression in their environment – in order to lower their chance of injury if they are raped.

Through all this, I believe one can narrow fantasies of rough or non-consensual sex into something as paradoxical and polar as having a wish for control and a wish to relent oneself of it. And coming to this conclusion, I realized that such is the pursuit of many, even in endeavors not of the erotic kind.

Humans wish to have control just as much as humans disdain having control. This is why BDSM (bondage, domination, sadism, masochism) kinks and fetishes are found in some shape or form in nearly every romantic or sexual relationship in existence. You’ll have the dominant partner wishing to achieve control over a submissive partner wishing to relinquish control through such means of domination, humiliation, pain, and pleasure.

But it’s more complex than that, isn’t it?

Yes. Because, contradictory – a submissive partner may wish for control, and a dominant partner may wish to lose it. Human beings are an unyielding paradox where we flex across contrasting aims with no means to an end.

Yes, we wish for control, yet disdain having it. Perhaps we find the answer to this paradox in maintaining control by losing it?

Moreover… how does this relate to nonconsensual sex fantasies?

Here, we get a fifth theory containing the ego – a spin-off of a kind from the third theory. Here we find the wish for control, where, in the lustful fantasy realm, non-consensual sex bolsters a woman's feelings of seductiveness and desirability in the way it has the power to make a man lose his decency and self-control, driving him to commit crimes of passion despite ill consequences of losing his pride and honor as a man – also, ultimately, risking getting sent to prison.

Put simply, some women enjoy the idea of being irresistible enough to drive even a good man crazy. The thought of being attractive enough to make a man love-sick and the power and control that follows it is, in this case, a turn-on.

A sixth theory – another spin-off from the third theory – is that fantasies of rape allow women to reduce the distress associated with sex, as they are not, in this scenario, responsible for what occurs. Moreover, the logic here states that when one is forced into something, they’ll have a lesser need to feel guilt or shame about acting out their own sexual desires.

Put simply, some women wish to maintain their innocence despite having carnal desires only satiated by means of sinful acts.

This begs another question.

Is this a lingering feeling of guilt and shame around female sexuality?

Of course! Women are constantly met with disdain when open about their sluttiness.

So, are fantasies of nonconsensual sex a type of projection they do because of this?

In some cases, yes!

Transferring our own sexual desires unto another gives us permission to act them out without feeling guilty or dirty – because, inside this fantasy, it isn’t us committing the indecencies.

... Okay then...

Summing up theories five and six:

Control. To feel wanted, lusted for, obsessed over, and coveted by others. The power of driving someone to lovesick desire, a frenzied state, where they would do anything, even illegal, to have you. Additionally, despite such harsh cases of ego, wanting none of the responsibility for it, wanting to be free of sin, to maintain innocence and purity in light of such dark desires.

Or is there a seventh theory? One found in our idyllic construct of freedom – this aimless goal of ours to make ourselves appreciate breathing – done by balancing the electric powerline between having and losing control.

Is it this act of switching places, the attraction and pull, the stimuli and response, the attack and retaliation? In the chaos of contradictions and uncertainty, we find a thrill that occupies our otherwise hibernating minds – bored to the degree that we become machines in our daily programs.

Is it simply that we need a little extremity as a remedy for our dull lives?

Do we fall in love with illegal things simply because we are denied them? Simply because they’re illegal? Self-harm, drug use, gambling, murder, rape…

Are these things a part of us? And are we, without them, left feeling unfulfilled? Is The Purge perhaps onto something vitally important? A cure for boredom, this mediocrity that leaves us feeling so blue?

I think, if I were to find a comparison, it’s quite similar to the blind bounds of excitement others ascend to in the midst of playing violent video games. The rush of falling in and out of enemy territory, of danger and safety, from being a predator to becoming the prey, of victory and defeat, of chasing death only to be comforted by one’s remaining life – because in reality, you're safe and sound in front of a screen.

Also, in other cases - rollercoasters, horror movies, extreme sports, etc...

Yes, the wish to trip in and out of control isn’t limited to the realm of lust but is present in most aspects of life. We find it in extreme cases such as drugs, gambling, gaming, relationships, and in other subtle cases of professions and work.

If you don’t like it, that’s your business, and I wish you the best of luck in lust elsewhere.

On another note – and such another warning and disclaimer – I want you not to accept my tales of lust as love stories. Personally, I think hints of toxic displays such as jealousy, obsession, and possession in a partner are natural – but – a difference is made when such feelings become restricting to a degree you no longer feel free. I implore you to make such distinctions for yourself when regarding yourself – and, in extreme cases, when regarding others.

In said regard, I do not condone the events nor the actions of the characters in my stories – neither offender nor victim. Don’t allow yourself to fall prey to toxic partners! The signs are always there – keep a weathered eye out for them.

And no, I’m not blaming those who’ve allowed themselves to stay in toxic relationships. I, myself, am guilty of that. But I won’t excuse my poor judgment either. You know when something doesn’t feel right. We shouldn’t blur the lines of right and wrong in the name of love – or whatever else we may lend our self-control to – such as religion, culture, family, societal pressure, etc...

You are in control. Don’t forget it. And don’t allow anything else to become the case.

#nightmare rambles #discussion

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peachy-cheeks · 2 months

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Kusakabe Atsuya A to Z

warnings: nsfw... and didn’t proofread… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

a/n: ovulating, rewatching season 2, and kinda fixating on maybe my favorite minor male character in jjk... idk i know there are more atsuya stans out here in hiding and i'm sad that there's more fic for like... idk... naoya... than him... like stand up yall, he's excellent, relatable, has a decent backstory, and i kinda wanna give him a kiss. anyway....

Masterlist

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Atsuya's disposition often reads as removed, cold, or unenthusiastic but I like to think of this in two ways: it's a defense mechanism and his job (unfortunately tied to his entire life) is conducive to him acting this way.

All of that to say he's likely the exact opposite one-on-one. Especially when he's completely disarmed by the comfort of his partner— he's the type to cradle and cuddle you, shower you in little pecks, gently move strands of hair out the way to get a better view of your face, and bury his face into your neck to breathe more of you in... You might have to kick him off of you to grab a towel before he falls asleep though.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For him, it’s his forearms. He’s grateful that they’re used to bearing a lot of weight and can still exert a good amount of strength. It also gives him a little endorphin rush to feel the palm of your hands grip onto his arms for leverage and support.

His favorite part of you is a 50/50 split between your breasts and the inner plush of your thighs. The sensation of rubbing against, gripping onto, pinching, and biting the delicate skin excites him, mostly because he knows that he can always get a rise out of you from those areas. Truly he's indecisive, but he knows that the soft warmth feels much better in his grasp than the stiff, weighty tsuka (the main source of the callouses on his fingertips) he's used to reaching for.

C = Cum (What it says on the tin...)

I mean there isn't anything really special about his cum (at least he thinks), but he does love seeing it streaked across your face, glistening in your mouth, running along your chin and down your neck. Guilty pleasure is seeing it in your hair, though he sympathizes with how annoying that can be to deal with so he tries to avoid it.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He absolutely loves when you boss him around. Not that he doesn't already listen to you or that he'd be combative, but he really can't help it if his pants feel just a little tighter every time you tell him what he "needs" to do or even get a little cross with him. Oof... and you potentially praising him for doing something right? Definitely a submissive side he has yet to unpack or even connect the behavior with, though he can totally acknowledge that you taking the reins gives him a chance to step back from the big brother/instructor role for once.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Decently experienced and while he wouldn't divulge his past escapades with you (unless you asked), you can definitely feel the experience in how he touches you. Attentive and confident in how his hands direct your body.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying.)

Indecisive on this as well but he takes deep pleasure in seeing you take control. If he had to list his favorite three, it would be cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, and missionary at the very top.

I mean, he loves seeing you on top but he's a traditionalist and, efficiency-wise, he can reach where you need him most at a faster and harder pace with you under him. Missionary is also the easiest position for him to hold your cheeks between his hand to keep your focus on him.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Again, someone who seems more serious than not. But when he's comfortable and in a non-life threatening situation between the legs of his lover, a tender side of Atsuya shows. Of course, it takes a bit of time... multiple sessions and hours really... of cutting through his reserved attitude, but after a while you find that both of your kisses, moans, and deep, vulnerable sighs are bookended by smiles and giggles. Maybe someone pulled a funny face or decided to give up prematurely on a strenuous position. Maybe you both have a moment of realization that the perfect person is fucking you and you can't help but laugh at your luck.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

I have a personal soft-spot for this so walk with me a bit... chest, arms, legs... perfect sprinkle of hair... enough to give a very mature (ugh... dilf-esque) compliment to the toned muscles underneath. A very charming, dark happy trail dusts his lower abs and leads to a nicely trimmed yet fuller tuft of hair above his dick.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Recurring theme here... he's a secret sweetheart. Day-to-day and outside of a dangerous situation, he's a particularly dedicated, caring, and thoughtful person. There's still a reserved quality to how romantic he is PDA-wise. Hand-holding is fine, the occasional well-timed kiss— ideally away from students— is fine, he just prefers to be more chivalrous (acts of service) than overtly affectionate (touch). He's more-so worried about giving himself the ick from being a bit too forward and all over you in public (and in-turn giving you the ick.)

But... when he is all over you, the body worship makes you feel like the only person on earth. It's like he has an innate sense of how to nonverbally rectify anything you may have misread about his feelings for you (from a mix of cultivated experience and natural chemistry). Because he's constantly in minor disbelief about how you want him as much as he wants you, in bed he's very communicative, quick to learn all of your trigger points, and loves to hand out compliments:

"Mm... I remember. That spot's really sensitive... can I kiss you there?"

"Comfortable? Feel like my hands were made for holding you here..."

"Seriously don't get how someone can be as perfect as you..."

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Oh boy... rare now since he's not away from you too often. I think prior to shooting his shot with you he had a major moment of self-discovery where you slowly became the main subject of his spank-bank.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Something about Atsuya makes me think that he's generally vanilla but would be really into subtle power-play. Not committed to the full dom/sub relationship or BDSM as a practice, but loves a little touch of friendly roughness. A hand to his (or your) throat, hair tugging, a few loving slaps, maybe even a little spit-play.

I think shibari/kinbaku would be the furthest he'd go. He respects the beauty of it, the amount of trust and patience it takes to do it right, the learning process, and how much you look like you need him by the end.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Traditionalist... nothing can beat a bedroom. Though the shower is nice... keeping you from slipping gives him a great opportunity to lift. The kitchen table is great too since it offers the perfect leverage. The couch offers the same thing too for a few different positions. Well... I guess as long as it's at home...

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Your smile. It’s really that simple. Seeing you express any amount of joy, let alone share it with him fills him with a type of yearning that he can’t really verbalize. It just makes him want to be as close to you as possible.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Teacher kink... would indulge if you really enjoyed it but reminds him entirely too much of work 😭

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He enjoys giving and isn't bad at it by any means but you swear something very repressed and primal unveils itself when he locks eyes with you on your knees, mouth open, and doe-eyed. He tries to be gentle about it at least.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

This can vary since he enjoys almost any pace as long as it's with you. With setting a pace he really keeps an eye out for what he thinks you'd prefer at the moment. I think there's always a point where he can't hold back but he strategizes around and prioritizes getting you off... depends on how much time you both have. But hey, if the pace happens to start out needy and desperate...

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Not against a quickie, but as mentioned, defers to your mood on how to proceed. For him, the most likely scenario of needing a quickie (because he’d prefer to just be late or cancel whatever was cutting into your time) would be on campus; a taboo that he hates to admit actually excites him.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He's willing to experiment with you and anyone he's had an extended relationship with, but frankly speaking the limits of his own risk-taking imagination run fairly short (apart from speculating on what places you two could get away with hooking up.) But if you can show him something new, he's likely game (though, nothing super bloody or violent... just not his thing.)

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He blames it on getting older but, normally, twice in one go is maybe the best he can do. Definitely exceptions to this... say someone feels particularly giving, there's a special occasion (anniversaries, birthdays, coming back from an assignment, a nice date night), or maybe you two lucked out and have a whole weekend, unbusy and unbothered, together.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He seems like a very simple, no-frills guy. But if you have any favorites to bring to the table, that'd likely pique his interest.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Atsuya aims to please so his teasing (just light petting, groping, and sweet whispers) is typically relegated to foreplay. Beyond this, he likes to give you very simple, sometimes curt, directions to follow while he’s fucking you. He doesn’t fully restrict you (most of the time) or prevent you from chasing your high but he likes to put small roadblocks and rules to bargain on in your way:

“Hey, look at me. Don’t touch. I’ll do it if you look at me. Mmhmm… keep your eyes here. Good... Feel good? That what you wanted?”

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Not loud, per-say, but does have a habit of moaning into your mouth, against your ear, or just against your body in general. Maybe he’s a little too shy to moan aloud and feels safer relinquishing these rare sounds to you only.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Atsuya definitely has an oral fixation. He deeply misses smoking– especially a post-sex cigarette– but he doesn’t mind if you indulge. Actually, he really looks forward to seeing you have one. Over the years he’s wisened up to the fact that smoke deteriorates the body but he still finds something enticing about the act of sucking on death itself. Especially the way you do it (of course, he does want you to live a long, prosperous life…)

You always offer him a hit but he’s principled enough to look and not touch… he also keeps a few candies in a couple of different drawers around the house, so he’s covered. On the more current end of his oral fixation, he loves sharing lollipops with you. Even better when you steal a kiss with the candy caught between both your lips.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Tanned shaft (that he loves feeling you squeeze against), darker pink tip (that he loves feeling you suck on), wonderful shape with a few prominent veins and an upward tilt. Girth-y and not unbearably long, but even when he's not hard there's a decent chub.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He would say he has a very unremarkably normal libido though you’d say otherwise. Again, he tries to reel back on PDA but when you’re both lounging around, cooking, doing chores around the house, getting dressed, and other regular daily activities he can get quite handsy and heart-eyed.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Leaves a bit of space (let's say an hour... hour and thirty tops) for a sweet and short make-out, pillow-talk, and cleanup but otherwise ready to sleep like a swaddled baby and will most likely be the big spoon.

#jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen fic #jjk scenarios #jjk x reader #jjk headcanons #a to z #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #kusakabe atsuya x reader #kusakabe atsuya #atsuya kusakabe

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tzthrowbacks · 3 months

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ask cleanse: share your favourite interview moment of tz during nwh press 🥰🥰🥰

i physically cannot choose one, on the top of my head i can think about : fighting about who is the best (or least worst) cook, z tickling him and holding hands being his defense mechanism, that soft "what were you saying" when he realized he was interrupting her (i love when men do what they do best and zip it)

my underrated moment tho is this because :

1. she can explain his attempt of a joke better than he can because she just gets his humor

2. she is SO amused at the fact he was stealing her jokes!! you'd think anyone would be irritated but she's just giggling

3. one of the few times they acknowledged 1.0, he used to do that all the time because they were spending all their time together and he used to take credit for all her jokes. it also showcase their introvert/extrovert dynamic, and how it evolved because z became more and more open and comfortable in social settings over time

4. in conclusion, behind every slightly funny man, there's a funnier woman :)

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lilislegacy · 1 month

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I honestly think annabeth would be the type to joke/bluntly mention traumatic/ fucked up moments of her childhood not realizing how messed up it is. Like Sally telling her during a dinner with jackson blofis chase that she hopes they like the food and Annabeth is like "Lol I used to eat trash i can take anything atp" massive awkward silence ensues

why did this make me laugh a little

it’s kinda like the phenomenon where people who have childhood trauma are the funniest people because they use humor as a defense mechanism. that applies to percy a lot. but with annabeth it would be way worse cause she’s trying to be funny but it’s not funny AT ALL. like it just makes everyone uncomfortable and feel really bad for her. (it would be all sally has to contain herself)

i’m not sure if annabeth would actually do this but the thought it is so funny and so sad at the same time. our girl deserved better

#annabeth chase #anon ask #answered ask #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #percabeth

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39oa · 7 months

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top 3 landoscar moments <3

miss risa you have no idea how difficult this was i think this is like 20x the acceptable length of what this prompt called for.

honorable mentions: not one specific moment but any instance of 1) lando constantly giving oscar the opportunity to win in the final round (see winner-takes-all during summer games + 100-point ultimatum in mini golf), i think if we tallied all their wins by round over the course of mclaren pr videos he'd honestly be above oscar by now, 2) lando being obessed with saying OSCUHHHH like it's an actual filler word he's ingrained into his basal speech patterns instead of his legal name, and 3) obviously oscar hearts-eyeing lando's entire existence in general though i think one great moment is the virgin radio uk appearance because why were they still managing to exchange extremely charged eye contact throughout 14 minutes of zak brown sitting between them. brah

other hms include ice bath video just because them making those sounds at each other was objectively hilarious, the cricket match-up (lando getting all worked up like "nice and easy oscar or else i'll take you off in the next race!!!" "i'm just worried about oscar, i feel like he's a silent killer you know" "oscahhh ): let me get you out mate ))):" and then oscar nonchalantly going Well it's only lando bowling i'll be fine. and immediately decimating him with his aussie schoolboy cricket prowess lmfao), suzuka in general but more specifically oscar not being prepared in the slightest to get absolutely doused by lando on the podium after he foksmashed his champagne, and also underrated landoscar moment is definitely oscar submitting the lando P3NI5 photo to a neural network image guesser.

ok let me get onto the actual list but thongs debate too just because lando obviously Knew but was doing it to be a little shit... in general i think what's fun to me about landoscar is that they've become quite natural in a sort of quiet domestic way so i like any moment that shows off their wordless communication, or alternatively oscar's endless level of patience + tolerance toward lando (listening to whatever pre-race music he blasts / silently giggling at his antics during the cake decoration video). like it's kind of funny when lando pretends in any way that he's miles more hilarious than oscar is because 1) he literally has the exact same sarcastic sense of humor, 2) 80% of his humor is a defense mechanism anyway, and 3) he's probably even more baseline introverted than oscar is (omg i could write a thesis on their social media presences but i won't.) and whenever people talked about how carlando were So Funny as teammates and mistakenly ascribed effusiveness to lando's character in response to their dynamic it quickly became apparent later on that carlos was always the one bringing this out in lando and not the other way around so... like i think their humor matches up well just in subtle moments aka the post-double podium video where oscar is like eyeing the way lando is holding his trophy at the start and then lando gets embarrassed and they start giggling while poor andrea is trying to make his speech like If you two don't stop!!

ANYWAY THE LIST:

🥉 twister: not really because it tells me anything wrt aspects of their dynamic but just because it's SO RIDICULOUS AND UNHINGED. first of all it's such a stunning instance of lando being better at something than oscar is but then the something is literally just being flexible so that's already a large enough indictment there (why are you as a man only good at golfing and being a little gaybo... i won't). but like [face-to-face with oscar's ass while folded up like a little pretzel] "what a sight that is" / "OSCUHH" x5 WHILE HIS VOICE IS LITERALLY GOING HOARSE IN THE PROCESS / and of course the most formative "YOUR LEFT FOOT IS NOT GOING BETWEEN MY LEGS!!!" actually dynamics-wise this WAS informative in that it proved to us that oscar will always be the first to lose at gay chicken. amen

🥈 sportbible green flag video: i think this video deserves to be slotted in at #2 because it's from when their teammate dynamic was still somewhat fresh but it proved to me that oscar was capable of Handling lando... like lando was clearly On One here and saying the most genuinely unhinged shit and somehow oscar still managed to find him funny and charming?!?? which i think is important because as much as oscar has always been characterized as chill and accepting there have been instances of him being genuinely flabbergasted and/or frustrated during his prema days which is of course also a reflection of age and natural maturity, but i still feel like specifically with lando he is SOOOOO TOLERANT of all his particularities and FOR WHATTTTTT. but also you can see during the >LOOK AT YOU WITH YOUR STUPID GOATEE ON moment that this was when lando was starting to understand that oscar wouldn't bend to everything he said and could be witty and incisive (silent killer) when he wanted to be and i think this is important as well in determining the equal footing of their dynamic. tbh my favorite moment here is the entire astrology question because of lando confidently assigning oscar piscesisms when that couldn't be any further from the truth. go off king of rejecting logical reasoning

🥇 LANDO'S BIGGEST FAN INCIDENT: this is #1 to me for so many reasons aka 1) i think this was formative to landoscar taking off as a ship in general because it spanned multiple fics but also 2) this was Personally what convinced Me to actually invest in 814 ship stonks because beforehand i was like "ok clearly oscar likes lando as a teammate and lando thinks oscar is a little lame and dry (in a mildly derogatory instead of fond way) and also oscar is just an attentive listener in general so his heart eyes disposition is mildly exaggerated" but then i watched this and it rewired my brain chemistry. the way we were still skeptics in august...

this whole fanmeeting is insane for several reasons but basically it boggles my mind because the entire exchange starts from the moment oscar is DESCRIBING HOW LARGE HIS NECK HAS GOTTEN which means lando is like sitting there quietly cataloguing the size of his body while oscar gets mildly flustered by the nature of the conversation and then lando deliberately cuts in like mate i'll buy you a new shirt and you can tell you can TELLLLL he was sitting on that response making sure it read well in his head. also it's doubly insane because when oscar responds that he'll get him a smaller shirt to strangle him they're both clearly interpreting it in bad faith like "you just want to get rid of me because i'm your competition xD" but then for whatever reason lando decides to make it Exceedingly weird 5 seconds later and his VOICE LITERALLY CRACKSSSS WHEN HE SAYS HE'LL BUY HIM A SEE-THROUGH SHIRT???????? like what's all this then. why did he essentially call oscar fit. why did he default to his little fantasy of seeing Known Bad Dresser oscar piastri in a shirt detailing lando's possession of his affections. genuinely calamitous levels of embarrassing for everyone involved i don't even know what to say.

ok i'll stop but hopefully this was informative <3 i'm so sorry

edit: omg i forgot to mention this but also the iconic silverstone fan stage side-hug and lando's whole face lighting up when he realized oscar was the one initiating physical contact!!!! 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

#never ask a man his salary or a lesbian why her landoscar tumblr manifesto is 1k words long #a

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astroyongie · 10 days

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Why Am I This Way - Psychology Answers

Note: Another one <3 we are almost done with the How Am I section !!

“How Am I” Section

“Am I Really A Good Person?”

What happens in the unconscious brain:

To start off, it's important that we understand that being wrong and right are social constructs and they will depend on your cultural background, on you ethnic and the way you were born and social class.

Now these feelings of being a good person, of caring from the social norms and looks come from childhood where the family plays an essential role on how we want to be cared for and loved.

In a dysfunctional family they usually have a closed system. For any interest in these topics you can always check the works that are based on little information and the resources are shared between the family members (communication isn't used often). In this cases (these families) communication tend to be rare and the rules of the family are usually strict and not just, working in the favor of the parent authority

In contrary, in a functional family, the system us open and the information and the ressources shred is shared through communication between the family

Basically in dysfunctional families the rules are not said. They learn in silence. In function, the parent actually verbalizes the good and the wrong.

back on the dysfunctional family, the communication is so fragile and limited that the little things that are said are usually harsh, violent and painful to the child (for example the child is make a mistake, the parent will proceed with accusatory screaming or physical abuse)

Because of this, the children who got raised in such an environment learn to mold themselves to reach security. They are always weary of their environment and they tend to read people to accommodate and adapt their behaviors.

Basically they learn to recognize a bad action and a good acio based on their parents' punishments and because of that they tend to always please others or provoke a better reaction in their counterpart to avoid the violence.

These children (from dysfunctional families) can develop four types of communication patterns when evolving with other people. Those are:

“Appeased” : they are people pleasers and they will put a lot of effort in for that to happen during arguments. To be a good person they use extreme generosity by neglecting themselves and their needs (because their parents have neglected them so much so why shouldn't they do the same?)

“Accuser”: A mirroying of narcissistic parenting/ defensive category. People like that will try to manipulate the situation and turn the tables to avoid being on the receiving pain end. They try to be a good person by using reverse psychology

“Congruent”: the person is aware of their surroundings, they are aware of signals that can be potentially triggering. These types of people when arguments happen tend to use verbal and non verbal communication at the same type to smooth the situation and avoid being hit. more of a “fight” response to avoid panic and be a good person.

“Evasive”: they are usually people that often retreat in arguments. They will keep themselves shut because they have learnt that speaking will bring them more pain so they usually try to keep themselves shut and repress emotions in order to be the good person. some of them can also use humor as a mechanism

Usually people that are always questioning their worth as a good people come mostly from a dysfunctional family weather neglect and violence were the main resource and where the people had to learn strategies to survive in that environment

if you are interested in more of these topics you can check the works of Virginia Satir and Karen Horney

So what can we do?

We cannot allow the limited perceptions of others define us

You need to understand that you have lost touch with your inner self in order to avoid conflict. the important here is to learn that arguments and conflicts are often necessary to solve the issues and they are important to communicate feelings and that one should not stop putting their fears first and take time to open up

now this is hard but with therapy and the right relationship, this gets easier and those behavioral patterns can be changed

There’s also the need to stop blaming yourself for everything and prioritize your happiness.

Learn to say no, learn to stand for yourself and believe that you are worth more than what the dysfunctional family provided. you are worth love

and no, you're not a bad person you are just hurt

Now, you know where to work to become a better version of yourself

#psychology #psychology notes #psychology facts #mental health #well being

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l-egionaire · 1 month

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Just saw Kung Fu Panda 4. Here are some thoughts.

Plot was... okay. Nothing super special, but it was fine enough for the kind of story the movie was trying to tell. And there were some great imagery and animation moments. I honestly don't get all the complaints about the animation. I saw one thing on TV tropes say it'd because it's not something like Puss in Boots Two or The Bad Guys, but I'm honestly fine with it not being like those. I feel like if all animated movies used that style, people would just start to complain that they're all the same.

Zhen was fine as a character. Bit of the usual "thief with a heart of gold" type character, but while I do think her changing was a bit fast, I can get why it happens. Po's the first person to show her genuine kindness with little alterior motive, and combined with a later betrayl, I can see her motivation for becoming a better person. Her voice acting wasn't too bad, but I think it could've been better in some dramatic moments. Also, while the movie doesn't draw attention to it, I do think there's a lot of parallel that could be drawn between her and Po, not just with how they grew up but also in their parental figures. Not to mention, they ultimately aren't THAT different as characters. They're both goofy people but grew up being looked down on by others and seem to use humor or goofiness as a defense mechanism. Just that she uses snark whereas he uses his big happy personality.

I REALLY like Po in the movie. Not just because he's his usual big fun self, but because he's still just as, if not more competent as he was in the previous movies. A big issue I had with the How To Train Your Dragon franchise was how Hiccup seemed to keep being less competent or capable in the movies. But no. Po's still able to kick ass and is the skilled warrior he should be after three movies of fighting. And I do think his fear of losing his dragon warrior title is understandable since that HAS been a big part of his identity across all three movies. Some might say that it's odd he's so afraid of change since he became a teacher in the last movie, but that was just adding on to his the responsibilities he already had. I would say his arc of becoming a spiritual leader was neglected some by the end and could've used a bit more focus.

Po's dad's are great. At first, I thought their subplot was just a comedic b-plot, but I liked how they ended up getting their and providing Po emotional support. And again, while it's not given much focus, their relationship and how they encourage Po creates a nice parallel between Zhen and her parental figure.

The Chameleon as a villain isn't THAT interesting, but she's not terrible. Personality wise, she's okay, but nothing spectacular. I do think her backstory was interesting, and, like the past three villains, her backstory mirrors Po's in a way. Which I honestly kind of wished they'd focused on a little more. I think it would've given her more depth that she's hinted to have.

Yes, the Furious Five aren't in this move for 99 percent of it. But.....I think it works. Because the whole point of the movie is about Po and Zhen. Them building their trust and relationship to get to the point they are by the end of the movie. And having the Furious Five their might have made things feel overstuffed.

Ultimately, I think it's a good movie. Nothing AMAZING but it's good and It does pick up more in the second half. Overall I'd say this around a 7.5 out of ten if I had to describe it.

#Kung fu panda #King Fu Panda 4 #KFP 4 #po kung fu panda #zhen kfp #Movie review

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therealhousewifeofharrystyles · 10 months

Text

Harry’s Home

(PART I.)

Pairing: Roommate!Harry // Nameless 1st-Person Femme Protagonist

Word Count: ~ 12k words

‼️Mature/18+‼️

⚠️ Content Warnings: Adult Language, Lots of Flirting, Pining, Love/Hate Dynamic, References to Body Weight (“Chubby” Reader), Body Objectification (M & F), References to Masturbation (F), Mentions of Body-Type Biases, Alcohol Consumption (Legal & Responsible Drinking), References to Ovulation & Implications to Breeding

**ANY & ALL IMAGES USED ARE NOT MINE**

Likes, Comments, Reblogs, and Follows are 100% welcome 💕

Weeknights deserve more credit. For many of us, it’s the peaceful resolution to our day. It’s the time when we come home after being excused from our lectures or meetings, or when we clock-out at the end of our shifts. We’ll safely make it back to our comfort zones and our open time slot can be occupied with whatever we want. Those few free hours are sacred. They give adults a necessary recharge. Personally, I share my humble homestead with an egotistical, British businessman—Harry Styles.

Harry was employed as a marketing executive for a unisex fashion brand located in Portland, Oregon. ‘Vol. 6’ started out as a small business, and had recently made waves in the industry with its diverse designs and overall style inclusivity. The company’s roots were planted by a few local, starving artists who set up an online shop with the most modest of intentions. The amateurs were blindsided by how their ideas blew up in overwhelming popularity via the internet. It was like winning the lottery. They eventually accumulated so many orders that they needed to expand their operations—hiring an A-team of designers, tailors, and legal professionals(for copyright purposes, of course). International sweatshops and inhumane labor conditions were far from what Vol. 6 sought to create. And so they stayed in Portland—keeping their focus upon ensuring exceptional product quality, as well as enforcing flexible, comfortable, and progressive working environments for its employees. Although an underdog in the fashion scene, Vol. 6’s excellent reputation continued to soar without a hitch. It turns out that a cohesive process of structured business management and clever marketing can be achieved without sacrificing empathy, creativity, realness, or substance. The only disadvantage is the limited supply of merchandise whilst there’s a metastasizing demand. It’s not like this kind of business structure is rare. High-status designer brands have been known to keep their stock low—or at least that’s what they say—for their popular items to seem more valuable and special. As an operation that works against those capitalist games, Vol. 6 values employee and customer satisfaction over profit. The company’s active attention and true kindness are what separates them from the rest.

So, as I mentioned before, Harry is a part of Vol. 6’s marketing team. He often collaborates with the designing team when he’s working on new promotions or adverts. Creative cohesiveness is essential to successful marketing. Hence why Harry and Mitch became close friends as they had consistently developed ads together for a couple of years.

Some have referred to the boys as yin and yang. One of the two tended to present himself as intimidating and pretentious, whilst the other was comparatively quite mild and personable. It was a mystery how these men befriended one another instead of becoming enemies. Harry was the type that wanted to complete tasks his way, and his way only. In total contrast, Mitch liked spontaneity—preferring to ‘go with the flow’ rather than planning ahead. That method of living was despised by Harry. He was set in his ways. It didn’t make sense to him how his friend could act so unbothered by the world’s chaos. Maybe it was just his hot temper, or maybe it was the way his natural responses to conflict were either instigating a verbal quarrel or using bitter humor as a defense mechanism…but Harry just wasn’t a people person. Mitch had thankfully brought him out of his comfort zone a few times—reminding Harry of his university days when his mates had turned him into a womanizer. The results, however, differed from those times due to Harry developing a bleeding heart as he progressed through his twenties. He was open to new experiences and fun banter with strangers as long as Mitch accompanied him. And so they became somewhat of a package-deal. Well, at least that had been the case before Mitch started dating Sarah Jones.

Harry had nothing to dislike about Mitch’s girlfriend. They got along just fine. However, Mitch became less and less available to Harry outside of work…Which meant Harry wasn’t going out much, and that was his issue. Of course he was happy for his friend—Mitch was supportive of him when he was in a serious relationship a few years back. There was no reason for Harry to be bitter. I personally believe he was just lamenting; that he was struggling to accept the fact that life would no longer be the same as it was. He looked back to when he was working towards a degree and reminisced about how he felt more socially fulfilled from living with, and eventually befriending, complete strangers. Those college memories had been the stepping stones of Harry’s development into true adulthood. He had no intention to ever stop growing and improving as a man. Thus why Harry sought to make a big lifestyle change in order to work towards branching out on his own accord. No more was he to reside in a bachelor-pad apartment with a shitty landlord who had never fixed the rattling air-conditioner. He was going to move somewhere more permanent. A place where he could enter his thirties as successful, single, and not lonely. A housemate would solidify the latter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Having met him briefly a few times, Sarah recognized a few of Harry’s traits as noticeably familiar. She knew someone personally with identical mood swings, a goofy laugh, and an annoyingly specific taste regarding every little thing. The combination of resemblances felt bizarre to witness up close. She felt like Harry had been performing as some sort of parody—speaking in hyperboles and absolutes as a joke. But she soon realized she was wrong and that he was just like that. Reacting emotionally was actually his genuine response to any sort of change. Sure, she’d interacted with the moody type before. She’d also certainly met plenty of picky control-freaks. Only, the person Harry reminded her of was unique in that she was entertainingly campy, yet sincerely empathetic; and Harry was the same. That person who’d come to her mind was me. And as soon as Sarah heard the news that Harry was looking for a roommate, her ears perked up and she reached out to me immediately.

But I guess I should probably explain the origin story of Harry and me, together, in more detail…here, I’ll start over:

My introduction to Harry was when a friend of mine, Sarah, gave me the news that her boyfriend’s officemate, Harry, was looking to lease a new place. The house was located in a nice suburban area just outside of Portland. Seeing that the neighborhood had been on the upscale side, he wanted to find a roommate to split the pricey rent with. Me, working full time and desperately seeking a replacement for living with my parents, saw this as the golden opportunity to finally have true independence. My initial excitement almost deterred me from wondering whether this ‘Harry’ dude was decent, or reliable, or if he was just some complete prick. I’d never met the guy. I didn’t know a single thing about him besides his name, and yet I’d already begun to mentally pack my bags. I still should’ve had more reservations about it. But then again, I was already aware of how uncomfortable living with a complete stranger was—thanks to college life in the U.S., of course. Also, Sarah’s boyfriend, Mitch, was (and still is) a respectable guy and I was sure he’d only surround himself with people of the like…logically speaking. After all, he was my closest friend’s boyfriend. If Harry stepped on my toes even once, Mitch would endure a hurricane of wrath from my Sarah.

The added layer of safety provided by my best friend’s loyalty was comforting. But this was still a gigantic step for me as a young adult. I’d be actually moving out of my parents’ house entirely for the first time ever. You could say I was blissfully naive of what challenges and obstacles my future held. Apart from all my idealistic daydreaming, I couldn’t help seeking a clearer picture of who Harry actually was (literally and figuratively).

Sarah had given me a basic description:

“He’s a sweet guy. But he tends to act kind of… ambiguous at times? His vibes go back and forth, you know? Kind of unpredictable. Hot ‘n cold…” she trailed on.

Ok. That obviously required significant elaboration—of which she’d eventually come around to providing after I sang the classic Katy Perry lyrics she’d unintentionally referenced.

“…Yeah, yeah, yeah…” She dismissed me, my sing-songy tangent coming to a giggly close.

“…But I’m serious—Mitch has told me all about Harry’s passive narcissism and how much of a stubborn grump he can be…I don’t know, maybe it’s a British thing. A stereotype, I know; but he switches from sarcastic to compassionate on the flip of a dime…” Sarah rambled.

I squinted at her and shook my head in disbelief. This was starting to sound a little sketchy. A grumpy, moody, narcissist? Awesome.

“Psh, so he’s a crabby geriatric divorceé? Wonderful…It’s no wonder he’s got that old-timey name, to boot. The guy just needs a caretaker…also, why would Volume 6 hire an old dude to handle their marketing campaigns..?” I joked.

Sarah shook her head and laughed as if I’d just said something utterly ridiculous.

“HA! Oh, god…I’ll have to remember to tell Mitch all of what you just said.” Sarah wheezed, entertained by my very false assumptions of Harry.

I blinked at her, not understanding why she found what I said so funny.

“…You have it all wrong, babe. He moved here from the UK, like, 10 years ago I think? Mitch said he hopped around from LA to New York City, then from New York to…um, well…to here, in sweet ole Portlandia.” She concluded.

As a young woman in her early-twenties, I wasn’t very enthusiastic about this living arrangement coming to life.

The look on my face must have revealed my doubts because my friend chuckled, waving her hands around for emphasis, and quickly clearing the air for me.

“Wait, wait, hold on! Before you tune out—He’s in his late 20’s! Just realizing how weird that sounded…Yeesh, I’d never let you live with some stinky, old, Englishman, you dummy!”

Phew…That sounded much better. It wouldn’t be too different from living with my older brother, then. But that one word, ‘ambiguous’—it wouldn’t leave my mind. Adjectives like that just leave too much to the imagination…well, to mine, anyway. What was Harry being all ambiguous about? My overzealous curiosity pushed me to spiral, conjuring up whatever dirty secrets that would be instant deal-breakers for me…

Did he smoke inside? Did he hate cats? Dogs? Or worse, was he the leader of some creepy murder cult? And if so, would he reserve our living room for their weekly meetings?!

...Would I be spared as a sacrifice because of my not-so-virgin blood?

Was he a fratty douchebag who peaked in college and succumbed to alcoholism?

Was he the type who’d refuse to be my roommate once he saw that I wasn’t a size-00? Would he feel catfished and tell me I looked “bigger in person?” …Not like that sort of thing really mattered to me—I’d just heard that before from a few guys around his age who were surely expecting to be faced with some petite porcelain doll…

Anyway, I guess I just hoped he’d be direct enough to tell me…you know…anything worth mentioning before I’d officially become his roommate. For all I knew, he was probably just a snobby little brat with an annoying, pompous accent.

Amidst my internal ramblings, Sarah added that Harry was a perfectionist.

So, I was right—he was a brat.

I wanted to stay positive, though. Maybe he was just a neat freak, and that’s what Sarah was implying. I mean, that didn’t sound too intolerable, right? And if he was moody, maybe he’d just keep to himself most of the time. I was perfectly fine with that. I tended to keep to myself most of the time, too...though, I never thought of myself as that moody…

Whoever he was, I just crossed my fingers that he wouldn’t have any attitude similarities to Simon Cowell. Just imagining that possibility made my head hurt and my self-confidence plummet. Whatever. That was probably unlikely, right?

Nonetheless, I was desperate for answers. Sarah just shrugged at me and told me to look him up myself if I wanted to know more. And so, I went to work.

Who was Harry Styles? Aye, that was the question…sorry, I’ll continue:

Doing some basic Googling, it seemed that Harry was at least somewhat active on social media…enough that he wasn’t untraceable, at least. This was one of those (very)few times where I was legitimately grateful for the existence of online social platforms. I scrolled and scrolled, and clicked, and scrolled some more…for probably 3 solid hours. Daylight had actually run out by the time I’d realized how badly my corneas were stinging. I’d looked at myself in the black reflection of my phone and could see the popped blood vessels in the whites of my eyes. At least I found what I was searching for.

Luckily for me, his—albeit, ancient—Facebook page looked genuine and free of any red flags. To my dismay, I had to send a friend request and a follow request to his socials in order to actually have access to the profiles. Did that make it obvious that I was in the middle of e-stalking him? Quite likely, yes…But I’d let my excitement and curiosity overtake my sense of self-preservation that night. Tiptoeing around so I could naturally stumble across a morsel of information would’ve been agonizing. My main objective was more important to me than playing mind games with that stranger, Mister Harry Styles. I wanted so badly to free myself from the confines of my childhood home, regardless. Ugh! I was the only one in my friend group who still lived with their parents, and the lack of privacy only weighed heavier on me as time progressed. My dear friend, Sarah, kindly gifted me my long-awaited chance at freedom by sending Harry’s offer my way, and I wanted to run with it.

Yes, I may have been diving face-first into a serious commitment with a complete stranger. Sure, I’ve never lived with a man who wasn’t related to me. And, yeah, I was nervous that this guy was going to reject me because I was younger, eager, and…kinda on the chubby side, to be honest. I know, I know…

My size shouldn’t matter, I knew that, and I still know that. It never truly matters. I knew my situation wasn’t the same as meeting a lousy Tinder date or whatever, but I felt paranoid regardless. All sorts of men have burned me in the past with their shallowness, so I wasn’t about to hold onto a false guise of confidence just for my big break to disappoint me in the end. The age difference felt somewhat significant on top of that. I’d been made aware that Harry was a few years my senior, but it didn't bother me. I hoped it wouldn’t bother him, either…that, and everything else about me, of course…I just had to wait and see.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He accepted my friend/follow requests immediately, and I dove head-first into research (lowkey-stalker) mode. From awkward prom photos and blurry, live music performances, the innocence of his Facebook profile finally put my worries at ease. His most recent profile picture was of him, his mother, and his sister. The candid, selfie-style photo successfully pulled a smile out of me. It’s not a secret that there are wolves in sheep’s clothing out there. But my gut assured me he was safe—that he was a decent guy. The back and forth comments on those family photos were friendly enough for me to assume a close bond between the two siblings, especially. My cheeks started to ache from my incessant smiling and giggling. The pictures were just so cute, I had to message Sarah about it.

[Text Messages]

Me: stfu this guy is adorable 😫

Sarah: HA I’ll have Mitch let him know u think so 😏 ❤️

Me: Oh my god, fr pls don’t

Sarah: Too late 😉

Me: Alrighty 🙂 Brb…gonna go play in traffic 🤪

Sarah: Ur such a drama queen lol

Me: Yep, that’s me 😚

Sarah: xoxo 😘💋

** one week later **

Sarah told me Harry was a bit different than the way he seemed in those family photos. She said he had tattoos and that he was a total frat boy at heart. All shyness aside, “…his true colors shine their brightest when he’s riled up…I’ve seen it. Little crabby pants man-child.” It was safe to say that Sarah was explicitly giving me a warning for Harry’s hot temper. I looked past it at the time because–as a sensitive crybaby myself–I assumed he was just in-tune with his emotions. I saw nothing wrong with that. I actually found it to be quite refreshing. A handsome man who isn’t an emotionless narcissist or a bird-brained himbo? Sounded pretty exciting to me! I looked forward to possibly cohabitating with someone who had a solid connection to their empathetic side.

Also, basically everyone and their mom has a tattoo or a sleeve. Harry wasn’t different or special in that way to me at all. I completely shrugged it off. Who cared? Still curious as all hell, I scrolled around for a link to his Instagram. The link was right there on his Facebook profile.

Nice.

This is just too easy, I thought. I’ve got all this information on this man at my fucking fingertips.

Wow wow wow wow…

So, uh…Needless to say, Harry presented himself as a little less, um…well, I definitely wouldn’t have pegged him as a “mama’s-boy.” I mean, it wasn’t like he was unrecognizably different or anything. Sarah’s depiction of him, although vague, was right on the nose. All of this was meant for research purposes only. But it was objectively true that he was insanely gorgeous. It was just a fact. Pretending like Harry was average in attractiveness…I mean, why would I do that? Why would I lie to myself when the man was just an innocent sight for my sore eyes? That’s all he was…he was cute. Handsome. Adorable. It was as simple as that. I just don’t know why I couldn’t stop coming back to his Instagram time and time again. No matter how paranoid I’d been about accidentally liking a post from like…5 years ago…I still kept clicking on his profile for more.

He had a few videos of him working out—pull ups, bench presses, deadlifts—all of which featured a very sweaty, and very shirtless Harry.

He also had a few group shots with friends. Sometimes there would be a picture of him with his mom or his sister.

The latest posts revealed his plethora of tattoos to my unexpecting eyes. It was obvious that he knew he was attractive. He knew he wasn’t some average Joe. And I swear he had to have known I was looking. Surely he was looking at mine, too. But I was quite conservative and innocent on my instagram profile—similar to the way he looked on his Facebook. I had to admit, the general vibe of this virtual scrapbook was indeed leaning on the fratty side. Sarah was right. He also seemed aloof in some ways. It looked like he preferred small gatherings to larger ones. He didn’t post very often, and it was hardly ever him who’d be taking photos of himself. Someone else would capture Harry’s beauty.

The contrast between the two online profiles distracted the hell out of me. Specifically, I found myself gawking at him in his sweaty workout videos. His defined shoulder muscles quickly caught my attention, my gaze drifting across the defined blades until I ventured lower. The butterfly on his abdomen was both creepy and beautiful. It reminded me of the moth from Silence of the Lambs. Its wings glistened with a layer of moisture as he pulled himself up and down on the steel bar. Beads of sweat made his chestnut curls cling damply to his skin. I salivated watching this man strain and flex continuously; and I felt myself arch my back while I sat, pressing and grinding my clothed core against my mattress.

Jesus…What was happening to me?!

So, uh…the truth is…I thought Harry was really fucking hot. There was no point in lying about it. His hair just looked so soft and silky, and I wanted to run my fingers through it. I wanted to pull at it. I wanted to slide my soapy hands across the art on his body under a steaming hot shower. I wanted to kiss my way down until I was met with what I was 10000% convinced would stand a girthy, 7-inch masterpiece. Oddly specific, I know. But it was obvious he had a gorgeous dick to compliment the rest of him. He just had this vibe—this aura about him. It’s hard to explain. What was worse was how it seemed as if he knew he exuded that ‘big-dick energy,’ too.

So why 7 inches? Well, the dildo I’d been using for a while was about 6 inches—which was very nice, don’t get me wrong. But it just didn’t quite fill me…completely. And so I’d begun to fantasize about how Harry could stuff my holes instead. Fantasy Harry was a motherfucking dreamboat, let me tell ya. I couldn’t stop daydreaming about him—from carrying heavy boxes into the house and helping me unpack, to flat-out forcing me onto all fours, spanking my ass, and fucking me to tears. The fantasies only evolved over time, no matter how hard I tried to push those perverse thoughts away…but to be honest, I didn’t want to…

Nevermind his admittance of vanity, he still had a gentleness about him…hiding somewhere beyond those pale, teal eyes. Or maybe it was my overwhelming attraction to him that cast a rosy hue to how I perceived his character. I guess that was possible. However, I tended to have a good radar for these sorts of things—people, I mean. Harry made me feel excited, secure, comfortable, and very horny. I had no intentions of backing out from signing that lease, and I decided it was time to officially confirm that with him.

My addiction had only worsened from there. I’d begun to shamelessly use his posts as some sort of spank bank for my regular sessions of alone time. My body reacted quite positively to the change in routine. I couldn’t get too into it, though, as I hardly ever had the house to myself. That was one reason why I wanted out of there. Of course, I was still able to have my fun; I just needed to keep quiet. But fucking myself to Harry made staying quiet extremely difficult. It was like masturbating on Hard Mode. I was constantly hyper aware of how I handled my phone with my one free hand—so as to not double-tap. Then there were some photos of him where I’d pinch and zoom in closer, straining my eyes to see if I could make out the outline of his bulge. He wore black athletic shorts a lot of the time, so he was usually protected by the camouflage of the dark fabric. In one of his weight-lifting videos, though, he brought the bar up from the floor up to his knees, then slid it up just below his hips, and—oh my god. The metal pressed so closely to the tops of his thighs that he had his whole package propped up. His shorts tightened perfectly around him. It was so subtle, most people would probably miss it upon first glance. But I didn’t. I saw it. And now I can’t unsee it.

Oh…but he wouldn’t post him with a…or would he…?

Ugh, that cocky little smirk…Fucking asshole.

I hated him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Of course, I felt really dirty for thinking about my new roommate like that.

Oh, yeah…Sorry, uh, I forgot to mention: the two of us had e-signed the lease. I know, I know…but I needed to take the offer! How could I pass up the chance to 1.) move out of my parents’ house, and 2.) move in with a sexy, brooding, successful British man whom I could trust because he was a mutual friend AND…I honestly loved the house. It was old, but not broken or in shambles. The floors were amber hardwood, and the whole house was finished with matching carved, wooden railings and accent wall paneling. Having recently been remodeled, the kitchen was in excellent shape. Appliances were updated. The property was managed by an association which handled the lawn, utilities, and small, miscellaneous amenities. We had our own driveway, a connected two-car garage, and our mailbox was labeled with both of our last names.

The charming little cottage condo was now officially, and contractually, mine and Harry’s. I was ecstatic about it, honestly. We still hadn’t met in person yet, which I knew wasn't the smartest approach, but we’d at least chatted a bit over text and shared some friendly phone calls. His voice was insanely sexy, might I add. I knew he was from the UK, as per Sarah, and so of course I was expecting to be greeted with that accent. What I was not expecting was this slow, deep…rough…

Eek, sorry—um, I wasn’t expecting a voice like that to come out of the speaker, that’s all. Dare I say it, he actually sounded nervous to talk to me on that first call. He’d stutter his words whenever I posed a question, and I could practically hear his boyish smile through my phone. It also took forever for him to end our calls—our goodbyes resembling the never-ending midwestern kind that I was unfortunately very familiar with. They didn’t feel nearly as painful or awkward, though. Listening to his accented mumbles on the other line released a flutter of butterflies in my belly.

I later learned that Harry had performed his own research on me. The only difference was that he’d done most of it a week or so before we’d e-signed the lease together.

It was simple. At work, Mitch mentioned me in a conversation regarding the house Harry had his eye on. He was interested the moment my name was suggested, a gut-feeling making him latch onto me. Once he’d discovered my online profiles by searching through Mitch’s mutuals, his infatuation with me soared. He had a juvenile crush on me from the get-go.

Feeling 17 again, Harry would look for openings in their casual discussions so that he could bring me up. Mitch, being a good sport, spent day after day playing his role as the messenger between the 4 of us. He wished Sarah had just given Harry my phone number straight away instead. If she did, Mitch would’ve been able to eat his lunches in peace. Not only did Mitch lack the answers to those questions, but he’d also only interacted with me a handful of times. He struggled to provide Harry with even the barebones descriptions. How was he supposed to know whether I was a morning or a night person, or what my thermostat preference was, or which days I did my laundry, or how often I had guests over? My private social media accounts offered better information about me than that of the fleeting memories my best friend’s boyfriend stored in his brain.

Harry intended to use somewhat of a surreptitious approach to voicing his curiosity to Mitch. But his sly efforts were useless, as Mitch caught onto his scheme quite easily. There wasn’t anything indicating to me that he was interested in me in any way. Well, not until Sarah let it slip that Harry couldn’t keep my name out of his mouth whenever he spoke to Mitch. But I thought he was just curious…I mean, I was a random, younger woman whom he was going to be living with. It made sense to me that he wanted to know so much about me. I was just as curious.

Casual lunch conversations between the two men had begun to form a particular pattern of redirection. At first, Mitch thought Harry was simply just eager to send in his deposit before anyone else could. The rent cost was a steal for how nice the house was and for the lovely neighborhood it was in. However, he knew all this enthusiasm was directed towards me, in particular, when Harry’s eyes were perma-glued to his screen whilst scrolling through my photos. I didn’t really have that much to scroll through, but apparently Harry spent enough time staring at each individual picture that one may have assumed I had an endless gallery. He’d even taken the liberty of digging further and eventually found my LinkedIn page. I remember how the week before our first phone call, I’d gotten a notification from LinkedIn telling me that someone viewed my profile…I didn't even know why I kept the app on my phone since I was content with my current job. Nevertheless, Harry’s investigation wasn’t as covert as he’d hoped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry was scrolling around on my LinkedIn profile in the Vol. 6 breakroom. Without thinking, he outwardly deduced to Mitch, “She must be the commitment type,” referring to my short, yet impressive résumé. He promptly followed up his inference by chiming,“She’s lookin’ for something’ serious then, hm?”

As soon as the words escaped his lips, Harry’s nonchalance disappeared.

Mitch stopped in his tracks as Harry decided to drag the comment out further.

“I-I mean, like, for a serious living arrangement, y’know?” Harry squeaked.

Mitch cringed in discomfort as the cracking of Harry’s voice pierced his eardrums. To the man’s dismay, his friend didn’t know how to shut his mouth.

“…Some people can be quite fickle ‘bout it, yeah? And what, she’s 24? Surely she’s been disappointed by dozens of pricks by now. Must be dying for someone she can actually rely on, dontcha think?”

Mitch pursed his lips and half-heartedly agreed, “Mhm, probably sick of the fear-of-commitment type.”

Harry nodded and pulled at his lip with his thumb and forefinger. He then continued to ramble on.

“Now tha’ I’m edging on 30…I dunno…’guess I’m just looking—” He paused to clear his throat and scratch his nose with his knuckle. He looked considerably anxious. “—looking forward to, uh, commitments, and all tha’.”

Mitch’s eyes narrowed towards his friend who kept fidgeting with his hands on top of the table and dodging all eye contact. He found Harry’s clumsiness entertaining. He wanted to see how long he could get him to chase his tail. Instigating, Mitch said,“Yeah…So, uh, did you find anything else interesting about her?”

Harry lifted his head up to meet with the other man’s suspecting stare.

“Huh? Well, y-yes, definitely! ‘Course I did. She, uh…well, she’s—”

“—She’s a pretty girl…yeah, H?” Mitch interrupted, cutting him off from his stuttering. Harry swallowed dryly in response. At that point, it seemed to him that Mitch had finally picked up on his crush.

“Uhm, yeah…yeah, I think she is. Quite lovely, now that y’mention it.” His eyes blinked down at the zoomed image of me in a bridesmaid’s dress displayed on his clutched phone screen. Mitch patted Harry’s shoulder, heartily laughing at the glassy-eyed brunette in front of him.

Except, Harry wasn’t laughing. The shells of his ears turned red hot and his knee bobbed awkwardly under the table, unintentionally knocking on the hard surface a few times.

“Ah! Fuck.” He cursed under his breath, holding his nervous knee down.

“Harry, it’s ok if you have a lil crush on her...” Mitch assured him. Harry gnawed on the inside of his lip as Mitch kept on. “…God, y’know, I haven’t seen you down this bad since…well, since Cam, I think...”

Harry gulped at the mention of the woman’s name…the woman who broke his heart several years earlier. His discomfort with the subject was apparent to his friend who then swiftly rephrased. “Shit…Sorry…I just mean, like, you’ve got heart-eyes for a girl you’ve never even met. You don’t know her. She doesn’t know you…”

Harry stayed silent.

“…Honestly, I’m surprised. ‘Used to you always going for the Barbie-type. It’s nice to see you’re, uh, broadening your horizons, hm?” He smirked and drew an exaggerated hourglass in the air with his hands.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows and got defensive at the suggestive implication. “Besides having dated all women, I’ve never had a type, Mitchell.” He scoffed. “And another thing—” Harry quipped, his pupils swallowing the soft green of his irises. Mitch, unintimidated, seemed quite amused by his friend’s sensitive temper.

“—You shouldn’t talk about her like tha’. Inn’ she close with Sarah?! That’s your girlfriend’s best friend. ‘S fucked up.”

Mitch nodded in agreement with a dismissing chuckle. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sarah’s known her for years, but I was just messing with you, man. Relax.”

The men were quiet for a few moments before Mitch sent a warning Harry’s way.“Don’t fuck around with her, ok? ‘less you’re looking to mop up the poor girl’s tears every day. You’re signing a 3-year lease, remember? Try not to think with the wrong head.”

Harry glared at Mitch.

Wha—mopping up tears?! That’s a bit dramatic…

Contrary to Mitch’s assumptions, Harry wasn’t planning to create an uncomfortable living space. That’s the last thing he wanted. Sure, he was attracted to me and felt little butterflies fluttering in his belly when he read my posts and my texts. So what?! That’s his business if he had a teeny tiny crush on his potential housemate. It felt like Mitch was deliberately egging him on, and that’s precisely how the conversation escalated.

“What—? What are you going on about?” His voice strained to release the words. Mitch was done beating around the bush—he realized how the aftermath of Harry’s pursuit of me could end with lots of crying on my part; and worst of all, a very angry Sarah Jones. He wanted to avoid that outcome as much as possible.

“H, you’re stalking her Facebook and shit—”

“—Oi! ’S not like tha’! I just wanna know who I’m asking to move in w’me!”

“Ok, well I’m pretty sure you don’t keep looking through all her photos because you wanna know how good she is about washing the dishes.”

“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about…” Harry huffed. “…’Sides, you know it takes me a bit to get comfortable with people. Not to mention, I've never had a bloody roommate befo’, either.”

He was telling the truth—omitting some personal details in the process, but that didn’t matter. Not to Harry, at least. He knew Mitch was terrible at keeping secrets and that Sarah would be in the know before he could even finish a confession. There was no way he was going to risk jeopardizing such a safe and pleasant option with sharing his feelings so soon.

“Okay…” Mitch trails off. The air in the room was still and it made him uneasy. Harry scratched the shadow of stubble adorning his jaw. His impulsive mouth thankfully filled the silence that was suffocating them previously. As grown men and friends, the boys seemed to act like stubborn adolescents when it came to women—specifically, when it came to Harry and women.

“Um…so, you said you’ve met her before, yeah?” Harry couldn’t let it go.

Mitch drank from his water bottle and gave Harry the thumb’s up with his free hand.

“Then uh, why don’t you tell me ‘bout her? Like…Wha’s she like in person…?” Mitch took a deep breath and screwed the cap back onto the bottle. He then rubbed his thumb and forefinger against his chin mockingly. It was like Mitch was searching for ways to further tease Harry about his crush. Harry chose to ignore it this time.

Despite lacking approval in Harry’s newfound love-interest, Mitch offered him his honest knowledge anyway.“Hmm…well, I first met her at Sarah’s birthday party a few years back…She was nice, just a little on the quiet side. Seemed like she was holding herself back in that way, you know?”

The sincerity of his recollection shocked Harry. He was expecting to be turned down or mocked once again—he was even planning in his head what to send me via DM to further get to know me, assuming Mitch would’ve ended the conversation by that point. Luckily, he was mistaken.

“I remember her, like, tearing up at a picture of Lexi’s daughter. I thought that was a bit dramatic—the crying, I mean—but, I guess she hadn’t seen Lexi and her baby in almost a year or something..? I dunno…”

Harry frowned, empathizing with my reaction. It broke his heart whenever he couldn’t see his godchildren for long stretches of time, too. Mitch then tapped his fingertips against the table, traveling deeper into his memory to provide more details for Harry.

“…I’d say she’s sensitive in general, though. Sar told me how she’s always the one crying at movies, crying’ in arguments…cries whenever she sees a cat video on TikTok. Kind of a hot-mess, if you ask me…”

Harry’s lips twitched into a smile imagining my expressive emotions.

“...OH!” Mitch clapped his hands and chuckled before proceeding.

“She’s got this laugh that’s, uh, it’s like low-key really loud. Like, sometimes it’ll be this crazy wheeze and then, right away, she’s as red as a fuckin’ tomato. Sarah thinks it’s hilarious and they’ll basically laugh at each other for an hour. But yeah, you can tell she gets all weird and embarrassed after she laughs, though—and she apologizes for everything, all the time. Always sayin’ sorry when she literally didn’t do anything. I swear, dude…Someone could knock her onto her ass and she’d be the one to apologize. Wait, I think she’s from somewhere in the Midwest—like the northern nicey-nice states, y’know, so maybe it’s that? I’m not sure.”

“That’s…kinda cute.” Harry mumbled, his cheeks turning rosy.

Mitch grinned. “Oh, you think so?” A pink hue then washed over Harry’s skin entirely and he bashfully ran his hand through his loose curls. “Yeah, she seems quite lovely—I mean…”Harry stumbled over his admiration, trying his best to sound cool and detached. He failed miserably.

“…I-I dunno…Jus’ forget it.” He then buried his face in his hands, shamefully admitting defeat.

Mitch rolled his eyes and chuckled at his lovelorn friend. He guessed Harry was only randomly feeling things for me because he’s lived in a bachelor’s paradise for too long. It was also a known fact that he’d only have short flings once every blue moon. Those flings have become fewer and farther between as of late. Romance and commitment weren’t really Harry’s forte.

It’s not that he didn’t want a partner, but that he viewed the whole relationship-building process to be strenuous and stressful. Life and work were already difficult enough to balance. And so, for the past few years, Harry let himself be completely occupied by his job at Vol. 6. The go-to excuse to his friends (and especially his mother) for not settling down yet was that he carried a heavy workload, and he didn’t want to be an absent partner because of it. He’d end those conversations with a snippy “‘S as simple as that” phrase.

Even so, Harry was praying to God in the privacy of his lonely bedroom that he’d have the chance to settle down soon. All his adult life, he’d aspired to meet ‘the one’ and for him to give that one all his love and all his babies—a hopeless, hungry romantic Harry was. Dreams like these passed through his subconscious more frequently the more he aged. The British businessman was famished, desperate for love and connection.

Dating around was disappointing and redundant, and one-night-stands made him feel gross. He wasn’t simply a dumb, horny teenager anymore, he wasn’t even much of a dumb hornball of a man in his early adult years. Nay. He always kept an underlying craving for passion and compatibility. Harry was going to enter his 30’s in less than a year and he desired more than lackluster, meaningless sex with boring strangers. He needed more than arm candy. He needed more than a weak flame. He longed for an all-encompassing wildfire to eat away at his flesh from the inside out. He wanted to feel someone’s presence consume him.

Recently, Harry’s dreaming intuition had been signaling to him that he wouldn’t have to wait much longer to finally find his person. He was so needy for someone to genuinely love, and he felt overwhelmingly drawn to me from the very start—to my smile, my innocence, and my bleeding heart that matched his own. My lucky arrival into his life had only increased his determination towards lifelong romantic and sexual fulfillment. He just knew.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The time had come for us to meet in person. We’d gone out for drinks with Mitch and Sarah one weekend. It was a safe choice. This way, no one would feel uncomfortable, left out, or excluded. But in all honesty, it felt more like a double-date than a friendly gathering at a local bar.

I had been somewhat apprehensive about drinking around Harry knowing how I was a bit of a flirty(slutty) drunk. All it took was 1.5 cocktails for me to be a giggling, cock-hungry devil woman. Sarah knew this about me. She’d witnessed my nymphomania from the sidelines whenever we’d go out for a girls’ night. Yet, this knowledge did nothing to prevent her from ordering the 4 of us tequila shots before I’d even stepped into the establishment.

Of course, I was late—I’m late to everything. But that night, it was different. I was on the verge of a mental breakdown with hangers and loose clothes strewn across my bed and crumpled in clumps on the floor. Even my mother felt the need to knock on my door after one of my particularly loud outbursts of frustration—making sure I wasn’t actually in pain. I was fine. I just needed to look my absolute-fucking-best when I met my dream guy face-to-face for the first time! Was that such a crime to try and accomplish?!

My mom didn’t get it.

I’d finally slipped into a pair of high-waisted, dark wash jeans that made my ass look like a big, juicy peach, and a red, ruffled peplum-blouse that deliciously hugged my curves—my large breasts, especially. I topped it off with a tin cup choker and a pair of black, knee-high, heeled leather boots. My self-confidence switched from plummeting to soaring once I’d done a final mirror check on my way out the door.

I knew I had the ability to somewhat ‘make an entrance’ (in dim lighting, at least). However, as soon as Harry and I locked eyes, I saw his mouth hanging open as if I was an A-List celebrity approaching him. My stomach glittered with butterflies at witnessing the effects of my gorgeously buxom appearance. The high-pitched ring of Sarah’s playful wolf-whistle pulled me back to reality.

There he was. He was real. And he was even hotter than I thought he was. Yet, it was him whose features reacted to me with lusty enchantment.

His pupils were devouring me as we stood in a lull. My hand extended towards him for a cordial handshake. But as his large hand gripped mine, he pulled me into his chest for a hug—planting a soft kiss on my cheek. What was even more unexpected was how natural it felt to have his arms around me. The four of us then did a few rounds of shots that night. As a (heavy-weighted) lightweight, I was giggling like crazy after the first two throws. Harry laughed every time I did, and vice-versa, and so we’d run out of breath repetitively—basically falling to the floor on top of each other. We looked like a goofy, touchy couple out on a double date, but we were completely ignoring the other couple. Sarah found our loopy mingling to be quite entertaining, as did Mitch. They both had intimate knowledge the other didn’t. The night eventually wound down and the snoozy (actual)couple left for home via car service. I definitely wasn’t sober enough to drive, either. Thinking back, I suddenly remember sharing a private moment with Harry around that time. Nothing R-rated. Not even PG-13, really.

Our friends had already parted ways, leaving the two of us drunk and cozy at a corner-table in the back of the bar. He ordered us some ice water, of which I’d gratefully accepted. I was mid-gulp when I felt his fingers tuck a section of my hair behind my ear. In hindsight, that was a cheesy, 90’s romcom thing for him to do. However, it felt so gentle and sweet in the moment, I didn’t care. My eyes blinked up at him, my mouth occupied with chilled fluids, and he smiled dreamily down at me. Swallowing and setting my glass down, a soft giggle escaped my lips.

“You’re even prettier in person, y’know.” Harry drawled. More light laughter came out of me before I returned the compliment. “Mmm, you too, Mr. Styles.” His cheeks dimpled and he shook his head at me. “Tha’s cute, but I’m serious.”

I raised my eyebrows at his accusation. “So am I.” My arms folded over my chest in playful defiance. We sat there for a few beats, deeply drinking each other in as if the other person was the bartender’s last call. Harry broke the trance first. “Need t’get ya home, love.” His hand moved to cover mine on the tabletop. Out of instinct, my glassy eyes followed his touch. He was cold, clammy even, yet I could feel my skin flush red-hot in retaliation.

Harry seemed hardly intoxicated or loopy anymore. He had more to drink than me, for sure. However, I had to hold onto him for stability in order to exit the building. Leaving the bar that night gave me the same satisfaction as going home after an amazing first date. I hadn’t met a guy so instantly enamored by my presence since high school…back when I was a size 8! As a size 16 in my early twenties, I’d gotten used to men talking over me and looking right through me. There was no reason for them to treat me that way. I’d always been told that I’m the nicest person in the world—that I was beautiful and hilarious and passionate and brilliant. None of that mattered, though. I was either met with pure indifference or blatant, manipulative narcissism from the opposite sex. But Harry was the diamond in the rough. He treated me better than just decently. He made me feel like a person deserving of much more than the bare minimum—more than just mere kindness—worth love, attention, effort, adoration, and affection. I hadn’t felt that in a long time…if ever.

And don’t worry, neither of us drove home. Harry ordered an Uber for me and rode along so that he could make sure I got inside my parents’ house safely—escorting me to the door like a proper gentleman would. I’d only really experienced that kind of ‘chivalry’ once or twice before. Not that every guy I’ve dated was a complete asshole to me, but the bare minimum was certainly a chore for some…It was refreshing to be treated so delicately—by someone who hardly knew me, to boot.

That entire first impression…it was a solid confirmation for me.

I liked Harry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry and I have grown to be quite friendly with one another since we first met a little over a year ago. However, we sure as hell didn’t start out that way—yeah, the amazing time at the bar was a false first impression. Sure, Harry would still have his moments where he was genuinely caring and gentle. But for the most part, his demeanor changed into that of an antagonistic older brother. So, you could say the initial acquaintanceship was tense.

For starters, we had that 5 year age-gap; and so Harry used that as a pass to be an arrogant, cynical, pretentious know-it-all. It was like he always needed to be the one and only expert on everything. And I’m certain he’s always gotten off on every rare instance where I’ve shown to be naive. Yelling-matches would occur every so often for months as both of us are sensitive hot-heads. We ended that streak of arguing when Harry’s big mouth had inevitably put me in tears. I think it was around the 6-month mark (of living together) when it happened. What’s silly is how his comment didn’t even deserve my dramatics, really. I’d already been in a piss-poor mood that night, and I’m just a crybaby in general. So you betcha any joke about me and my body, no matter how innocent the intentions behind it, throws just enough of a punch to unleash the hysterics.

I was in our living room watching YouTube when Harry came home from work. The video on the TV had pulled a full-blown guffaw out of me a minute or so before the door opened—which felt like a wave of relief after a long, miserable day at my job. I typically would spend more of my time enclosed in my bedroom, but I guess I just felt like switching things up that day. Besides, Harry acted as if he owned the whole goddamn place. The house was 50% mine, too (per our rental agreement). I had every right to venture away from my compact sleeping quarters for the evening. There was still a high probability that Harry would be a grump about it.

Fucking whatever.

If I wanted to enjoy our shared entertainment room, then I was gonna fucking enjoy it! My confidence was torn out from underneath me the moment that prick made his entrance. The door swung open, and there he was—white-collared, spotless, and as smug as ever. He released a generous sigh, an attempt at drawing my attention, but I refused to acknowledge his homecoming. What? Did he want a freaking ‘welcome home, honey’ from me or something?! Being a part of Harry’s House’s Greeting Committee wasn’t in the fine print of our lease. Plus, the last time I kindly acknowledged him after work, he brutally mocked me.

[“Hi!!!” I exclaimed with a sweet smile.

He raised an eyebrow as he slipped his shoes off. “Uh, hello.”

I was in the middle of stowing the last of the groceries away. I’d been in a pretty good mood that afternoon. I don’t know why or what made me so excited for Harry to come home, but I just was. Typically, I wouldn’t be keen on asking him to talk about his day. But, again, I was just feeling good. I didn’t understand why that deserved such an adverse response from the man.

“How was your day?! Oh yeah, you had that big meeting, or whatever, right?”

“Mhmm.” He muttered, unbuttoning the wrist cuffs of his shirt and rolling the sleeves up to his shoulders.

I grinned brightly at him and opened the fridge. The way Harry looked with his stuffy work clothes always made me melt. He kept his tattoos well-hidden, but simply pulling his sleeves back would reveal the art…and that was something he’d do as soon as he got home. The action was so small and innocent, but witnessing it so closely—whilst simultaneously inhaling the faint notes of his expensive cologne—sent rushes of heat down to my core. He had no idea how hot he was when he did that…actually, he probably knew exactly how hot he was…little shit…

“So…Did your presentation go ok?”

“Uh, yeah, ‘went fine. It was fine...glad to be home, though.” Harry sighed, but I saw him fighting a smile once I’d turned around to face him.

“Oh? Just fine?” Judging by his subtle cheekiness, I had thought he had some news to tell me. It just seemed that way to me, at least. Or maybe that he was hiding something, or about to make a joke. My latter suspicion was quickly confirmed as true.

“I dunno…It went well, I guess…couldn’t wait to get home...” Why was he smirking at me?

I giggled and continued the banter.

“What are you being so modest about? I’m sure the reps at Gucci fell in love with the designs.”

Harry slipped onto one of the bar stools and watched me unpack the remainder of paper bags from behind the kitchen island. He leaned back against the seat’s backing with his arms folded and resting comfortably atop his abdomen. After making silent eye contact for a moment, I resorted to laughing lightheartedly and raising my eyebrows at the man.

“Eh?”

Harry just smirked.

I’d begun to fold up the empty paper bags. My cheeks were definitely blushed pink, reacting sheepishly to his stare. To conceal my submissive appearance, I reached up—pushing up onto my tiptoes—to stack the paper bags above the refrigerator. It didn’t matter that my back was facing him. I could still feel his eyes following my every move. Why did he have to intimidate me so much?

“Fine, be that way. Just so you know, I bought cookies for us, but now I'm not gonna share!”

“Oh really?” He hummed, leaning up to rest his forearms on the counter.

Scoffing, I stepped forward to face him from the other side of the island and grabbed onto the edge of the countertop. My upper half was angled towards him so that I could talk more directly to him.

“Really, really.” I purred, not realizing my voice would sound so erotic. Instead of backtracking, I just ran with it. Harry’s pupils expanded much like a feline’s when they’re hunting their prey.

But he just sat there smirking at me. My pleasant mood wasn’t to be ruined by his teasing. I wasn’t going to allow it. I could play, too, Styles.

“What kind of cookies did you get us, hm?” His low, British drawl sent chills down my back.

“Oreos.” I didn’t sink into that ‘subspace’ as they call it. Not yet.

Harry basically moaned a hum out in approval. I swallowed, still combating my natural instinct to surrender like a desperate little puppy. This was getting more difficult.

“You know those are my favorite, don’t you?”

I blinked. “Uh huh.”

“I bet you got’em just f’me…you weren’t gettin’ them for us...” He paused for a moment. “…were you, sweet girl?”

“I…maybe…” I squeaked, earning Harry’s immediate amusement.

“I’m gonna take a guess at something real quick, a‘right, doll?”

“Ok…” He was so close to me. I was just thankful I’d been chewing gum at the time…

“Are you ovulating right now? Is that why you’re being so doting and domestic?”

My face fell.

“Wha—Excuse me?!” I stepped back from the counter and put my hands on my hips. What kind of guessing game was that?! Who even asks that?!

In the most annoying way, Harry stood up from his stool and copied my stance. He was using far too much sass and flamboyance to be accurate, though. I did not look like that…

“Oh, don’t you give me that look, sweetheart.” Harry chuckled, walking over to me. He then reached his long index finger up to *boop* the tip of my nose. I huffed in response. The breaking point was nearing closer with every word he’d spoken. But submission was not an option.

I knew that he knew. He had to have known. He must have caught onto my shyness, saw how much he made me blush, sensed how bratty I’d become whenever he teased me. I was putty in his hands.

“Awe, You’re cute…” He mumbled under his breath. His hand rose to my shoulder and he twirled a lock of my hair around his finger.

I was furious. It was obvious he was just trying to rile me up. That’s all this was…reaction bait.

“Harry…—”

“—I’m just sayin’, one might think you were trying to sweet talk me into letting you milk me dry and put a baby in ya. I’m sure you’re just as fertile as you look, aren’t you, babe?” He grinned and drummed his rings back against the marble counter, now leaning back all cockily.

There it was again—that smug little smirk on his stupid, perfect, dimpled face. What did he mean by, “as fertile as I look?!” God, a woman can’t be mean or nice without a man having some bullshit to say about it. Whatever. I told myself at that moment that the next man who dared to comment on my missing smile would be a dead one.

I gave him a dirty look and hustled my ass up the stairs to my room. Thankfully, I was finished putting all the groceries away. There was no reason for me to stick around playing this silly game with Harry. As I was making my way up, he called out to me, “I may have a high sperm count, but I’m not quite ready to be a daddy, yet, love!”

“Shut up!” I groaned and slammed my door shut. I think I could still hear him snickering to himself downstairs. Such a dick. Also, how the hell did he know I was ovulating..?! Ugh!

Oh, and Harry wasn’t even finished with his jokes yet, because he’d leapt up the steps in long strides and knocked on my door…just 5 minutes later. I opened it, having then changed into a crop top and pajama shorts in the meantime. Not only was my round ass falling out of the shorts, but my heavy, unsupported tits were also threatening to peak out from the bottom hem of my shirt.

Typically, I wouldn’t want to be caught dead wearing that kind of getup in front of anyone. However, I thought I looked deliciously thick and absolutely, downright-fuckable that night. Of course I’d been aware of this, as well. And so I used my innate feminine sexuality to my advantage. As soon as I opened the door, Harry’s eyes (unsurprisingly) flickered back and forth between my chest and my face. How classy… I took the liberty of folding my arms together in front of me to feign some modesty.

Looking back on it now, I definitely watched a similar scene in porn...

He just stood there at my door, all of a sudden at a loss for words. I wish that silence would have lasted longer. It took only a few seconds before he was flashing me his signature dimpled smirk again. He then mirrored my body language and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” He teased, plucking at the hem of the shirt sleeve that hung loosely past my shoulder.

My back straightened up, an attempt at asserting a smidge of self-confidence amidst my pink cheeks and pounding pulse.

“What do you want, Harry?” I tried to act annoyed, but I think I sounded too timid…and to be honest, the idea of Harry filling me up with his cum had caused my panties to dampen significantly. They were surely leaking through my shorts, but fortunately my thighs were meaty enough to hide it.

“Hmm…No bra? Tha’s interesting…” I could tell he lowered his canter when he said that, but I still heard him.

“Gross, you pervert.” I spat, squeezing my arms closer against my chest.

“Ay, hold on, little miss sunshine. What’s with the bratty attitude, huh?”

“Shut up, mister big loads. Go impregnate a sock.” My expressive irritability only further inflated his ego.

“Hmm, I’ve gotta say, tha’s tempting, but…I wouldn’t wanna make you jealous.” I wanted to scream.

“Ugh! Get out of my room!” I pushed at the door, but Harry held it open with his hand—and there was no way I could win against him in that impossible match of strength.

“First of all, I’m not in your room.”

I closed my eyes and tried to control my breathing.

“Second,” he held his finger up. “Would you like f’me to order us some dinner?”

I huffed. “What I’d like is for you to leave.”

He shook his head and tsk’d in response. “Mm-mm, tha’s not what I asked.”

My teeth clenched at his audacious snark.

“I don’t care, Harry.”

His rings then tapped awkwardly against the smooth wood.

“Ah…” he sighed with his head bowed. “…Look, I’m sorry. I was just tryin’ to mess with you...I didn’t mean to make you feel embarrassed…”

Even though I couldn’t stand him, I’d begun to feel my heart soften at his puppy-eyed expression. Why did he have to be so irritating and so adorable at the same time?! Just choose one!

Hmph…whatever.

“…Well, I know you’re hungry…I’ll pay…?”

I sighed and chewed at my lip. I was starving…

His boyish apology was reluctantly accepted, but I made a point out of picking something expensive. He could afford it.

We ate and watched a movie on the couch together. To my surprise, there were no more stupid comments coming out of his mouth for the rest of the evening. Impressive. I noticed his eyes turned basically black. It wasnt like we had all the lights off; plus, it was August—the sun didn’t set completely until 9pm. I felt those pupils following me.

It was apparent that Harry found me attractive. That night he certainly did. Or maybe he was just high? Either way, after he’d pointed out my lack of undergarments, I decided to brush him off as simply horny. At least that was the best explanation I could come up with for all the sneaky eye-fucking. There was no way I could’ve convinced myself he was actually giving me that kind of attention consciously…

After we’d finished eating, he went out of his way to fetch me a blanket(our good one, no less) and then proceeded to drape it around my back and shoulders, tucking me in as if he’d done it a million times before. Look who’s the doting one now, Styles!

I also remember how he basically bolted for the bathroom and took a shower as the film wrapped up with the end credits…Ok, ok…so, I may have purposefully bent over in those shorts while cleaning up the coffee table…but surely he just had a long day and was desperate for a hot shower…Surely.]

It’s safe to say that I toned down the ‘domestic’ part of me from that point on. Even though Harry just likes to get my goat, I still wanted to make it more difficult for him to have a reason to tease me. The night when our door to the garage swung open, his voice echoed through the house with such vigor that it sent yucky chills down my spine. Oh, the irony...

“Well, shit—Mitch wasn’t kiddin’ ‘bout y’laugh being loud as’ell! ‘Could hear ya from the driveway!”

This man survived off of my agitation, I swear. I shifted in my seat to face him and my eyes narrowed at the sight of his stupid, cocky face. I’ve always felt embarrassed about my somewhat-loud, slightly obnoxious laugh—and the thought that it’s been a main point of discussion between Harry and Mitch (and who knows who else) stung even worse.

It’s fine. Don’t listen to him. Don’t react. Just…breathe…

“Hi, Harry.” My intonation was as unimpressed as I could make it sound. He of course snorted at my brattiness, slipping his shoes off and tossing his wallet and keys onto the kitchen counter before taking long-legged strides in my direction.

“Good evening, doll.”

I huffed and waved my hand half-assedly. Something that drove me mad was how he was fiercely antagonistic towards me, and he insisted upon giving me little pet names. I knew he was just teasing me. That’s why I made sure to always swallow my bashful giggles whenever he said them. My subby-ness was not to be easily accessible anymore.

“So, what’s this, hm? Grown tired of hiding from me all the time?” He casually gestured to me with his flat, open palm.

I exhaled through my nose in aggravation as he plopped abruptly down onto the couch—his arm propped up next to him and one leg resting on the opposite knee. His draping arm was stretched out towards me. I refused to take part in Harry’s game at that time, and so I returned his question with silence. But it didn’t even matter because he could tell I was holding my anger in.

“Oh, I get it. It’s some sort of opposite day or summat.”

He stretched his fingers closer to where my head was resting on the back of the couch. They wrapped themselves around a smooth lock of my hair and twirled it continuously. This man thought it was absolutely hilarious to get even the faintest reaction out of me. Harry was generally the ‘touchy’ type of person when he’s around those he’s comfortable with. It made me feel special whenever he went out of his way to be affectionate towards me because…well, I had a crush on him for a while. And so, at first, I naively understood those soft touches as hints for his deeper feelings. At least that’s how I perceived things privately. But the more time I’d spent living with him, the more I had to come to terms with the fact that he was out of my league, and that he probably only viewed me as a little sister. My mind convinced me that Harry just enjoyed taking advantage of my innate submissiveness. He would never be attracted to someone like me. In order to protect my heart from the shattering effects of rejection, I chose to play into the little sister dynamic and behave as though Harry Styles was just a stupid fucking boy, and nothing more.

My behavior shift from the bashful sweetheart to the indifferent recluse somehow drew him closer to me anyway. I was so fucking pissed. I was sick of his games! Most of all, I hated Harry Styles. I hated him, and I hated his wandering hands, and his cockiness, and his giant ego.

My hair is not a toy, and I am not a doll reserved for Harry’s cruel amusement. And yet I kept living with all these antics because I…

…Because I liked his attention…honestly, I loved his attention. I’ll admit it! There was no way he could ever find that out, though!

That night when he (once again) twisted a piece of my hair around his long fingers, I pretended it didn’t make my heart flutter. My face stayed emotionless. It had truly been an award-winning performance by yours truly. To an outsider, this scene would’ve looked as if Harry and I were a bickering couple. They’d probably assume I was just a crabby girlfriend punishing her partner with the silent treatment. To be honest, that’s what it felt like for a second before I caught myself leaning into his gentle contact. I smacked his hand away from my hair and he just smiled at me.

Ugh!

He smiled at me, and then he poked my cheek with his index finger. I swear to God, my skin was on fire.

“So what’s next on the opposite day schedule? ‘You gonna go for a run?” Harry snickered and let out an amused sigh. “That would be the shock of the century, wouldn’t it?!”

He kept laughing at his juvenile dig. I let out a weak scoff, unable to swallow my pride that time. The air in the room was stale. Harry faced the television screen and sunk further back into the cushions. I sat there in mopey silence.

So I live a sedentary lifestyle, so what? And yes, I’m overweight—I’ve been struggling with my body my entire life, so there’s no need for anyone to give me a reminder. Regardless of the obvious and regardless of Harry’s ‘opposite day’ joke, I wasn’t in the right mindset to just brush it off…not that night. Starting a fight wasn’t the route I wanted to take either. I was exhausted. A retreat into solitude felt like my best option.

But, God…why did he have to fucking say that?

My bottom lip quivered and I was unable to blink back the tears for a moment longer. Every last ounce of patience I had left was dried up at this point. My long hair shielded my face whilst I bowed and dabbed my dripping eyelashes with my sleeves. Noticing the lack of verbal retort from me, Harry turned his head back in my direction. His breath hitched in his throat and his sage irises washed over to stormy blue.

“Oh, shit…” he muttered.

I sniffled and got up from the couch, making a beeline for the privacy of my bedroom. He never meant to make me cry. It was obvious Harry was just poking fun at me, but words can still hurt regardless of the speaker’s intent. It was too late for him to consider that now. Harry quickly jumped in front of me. He leapt into action so fast that I was physically startled back against my bare heels.

“What the fuck, Harry? Move!” I whined frustratedly at the man as he stood there with similarly glossy eyes.

Then he reached out and held my shoulders in his strong hands. His thumbs did that rubbing thing that most people only do when comforting their loved ones. Back then, I wished so badly that the simple gesture hadn’t sent such soothing goosebumps down my arms. It was so infuriating how this man held that kind of power over me.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, love. Please don’t cry. I—”

I gritted my teeth at his pity.

“—why? Are my big, fat tears too loud?! Or are you worried I’m so huge that I’ll get stuck, and my arms and legs will burst out of the fucking house?!”

Harry’s brows furrowed at my imagery. “Uh, wait—are you trying to reference…Alice in Wonderland—”

“—ALSO! Last time I checked, YOU were the one who ate all the cookies last night—YOU and your RABBIT TEETH fucking decimated my Oreos! So why don’t you go for a fucking run!”

Harry seemed amused with that one. His stupid dimples popped out at me and I was fed up.

“Get out of my way!”

I pushed against his chest, but he stood firmly on the carpet in front of the stairs. I remember fighting my urge to stomp my feet like a toddler. He wasn’t letting me retreat. He wouldn’t get out of my fucking FACE!

“I know you want to yell at me, so do it.”

“No, I don’t want to yell at you! I want you to move so I can go to my room!”

“Cmon, love. Talk to me…Give me all y’got. I know you have it in ya.”

“MOVE!”

Then he laughed. Why? Because I actually stomped my fucking foot—just like how I’d previously forbade myself to. And I’m sure the performance was quite entertaining for him.

“Don’t you throw a tantrum on me, sweet girl. Use your words!”

“You’re such a fucking smartass.”

“Oi, don’t talk about my ass like that! I’ll have you know, it’s quite dumb!” He grinned.

Un-fucking-believable. I can’t believe that got me to crack a smile. Harry instantly mirrored my surrendering, his hands drifting down from my shoulders to my elbows. My arms were crossed over my chest, but he wiggled them loose.

“YES! There’s that pretty smile…”

I huffed and groaned, feeling like a total child.

“…Don’t you be teasing me for my teeth—Y’look like a bunny just like me, babe.”

I giggled and playfully shoved his chest. “I do not!”

“Uh-huh! You definitely do!”

My hand rose up to cover my mouth and Harry just laughed at me. Lowering himself closer to my height, he *booped* my nose which caused me to scrunch it up in response.

“Aww, you are just a lil’ bunny, aren’t you?”

I squirmed and whined, annoyed as all hell with his patronizing.

“Don’t you start stomping your feet again, sweet Bunny. You’re better than that!”

I couldn’t help myself from just letting my guard all the way down at that moment. Inhaling deeply, I circled my arms around Harry’s middle and buried my face against his chest.

“Sorry…I just want us to get along, H.” My small voice was muffled against his shirt.

Harry frowned and wrapped his arms around me, reciprocating my surrendering embrace. My ear was pressed against his chest. There was a strong beat beyond his hard surface–my head pulsed with each fierce thump. That was the closest we’d ever been to each other. One of his hands slid up to my hair and combed through it.

“I do, too…I’m sorry.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sharing a house was less expensive for both of us 20-somethings, and rent has thankfully stayed reasonable and affordable since we two moved in a couple of years ago. I’m happy in my living space with my roommate. It’s a platonic situation between me and Harry—regardless of what family and friends want to believe. And I doubt it will ever venture beyond friendship any time soon. It can’t. Things are perfect right now…exactly the way they are. I keep my little fantasies to myself within the privacy of my bedroom. Harry can never know.

I’ve been single for a while. It’s possible that my holes are the tightest they’ve ever been, and that it might feel like I’m losing my virginity again whenever I do get some dick. So what, sometimes I think about what would happen if I just accidentally sent a racy photo to Harry…

…Whether he’d keep it and pretend he never saw it (as a way to be gentlemanly)…if he’d be disgusted and laugh at my body…or if he’d turn feral like I hope he would, bursting through my bedroom door and finally taking all that I’ve unconsciously reserved for him…

Don’t fret, my pet — smut will come in part 2 😈

Writer’s Notes: Hi, everyone🥰 Phew…well, there she is! Part 1! Thought I’d celebrate my birthday today by posting my first H piece💕 I’ll start off by saying…I’m kind of an obsessive perfectionist when it comes to my writing…so I won’t be super speedy when posting updates on my work, as I really want to be certain that I’m posting exactly what I want you to read. I know that other content creators on here are excellent at keeping a quick, reliable posting schedule—and I will be trying my best to do the same(I hope to make it in the same ballpark as them, at least). However, please be patient with me💕🙏🏻 💕 I have devoted a lot of time, love, and creativity into my work just so that I can share it online with strangers for free. I greatly appreciate any and all support, suggestions, criticism, questions, etc., so please don’t hesitate to comment or send me messages/asks. (Anons are welcome!) I’ve been working on this piece for a while now and I’d really like to get your feedback on it. If you would like to be tagged in future updates/parts, please let me know!!!👏🏻💗👏🏻🩷👏🏻💖 👏🏻

xoxo ~ Regan 😘💕

@victoria-styles @harrystylessmuttyfics @therealhousewifeofharrystyles

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harlowcomehome · 1 year

Text

No Answer:

I call my ex "No Answer"

As in that's my nickname for her ’cause when I call, no answer.

You lay in bed, watching the phone ring. At this point it was routine, you knew Jack was in town and he tried to reach you every time, even though you never answered.

He always had hoped you’d pick the phone up, but deep down he knew the chances were slim.

You had been broken up for months now, so why was he still calling?

You were just in bed reminiscing about all that happened between the two of you.

You and Jack met through mutual friends, over a year ago. One of your friends was having a party for Derby weekend and he showed up with Copelan. You had never met him before but it didn’t take long for the two of you to become practically inseparable.

He was drawn to your confidence and you his humor. Jack knew how to make things feel light and airy, something you weren’t used to. He constantly made a joke of things, and that would normally bother you but not when it came to Jack.

Being with him made you feel safe, something you didn’t have a lot of growing up. You didn’t trust easily but with Jack, it felt like second nature. At first, it was intimidating to you but once the walls came down the two of you were pretty much a package deal.

The night you met the two of you played air hockey, Jack was a sore loser but you were still convinced he let you win for conversation's sake. Copelan swore up and down to you that Jack wouldn’t do that, as he had a naturally competitive nature.

Jack let you think that though, but truthfully you were just better at most things than him.

You and Jack hadn’t been dating long when he started to gain more traction, and your own insecurities set in. You didn’t feel safe and secure anymore, and you felt like you had to fight for a spot in your boyfriend's life.

The two of you rarely argued in the beginning. Now when you did, it was usually your fault. Your defense mechanism was to push him away before he left on his own, and he didn’t understand why.

He had no intention of ever being without you.

When he told you that he was doing a music video for What’s Poppin, your jealously picked a fight.

You played that fight over in your head a lot, knowing you probably ruined a very pivotal moment in his career. You had regrets now, but at the time it made sense to you.

Jack ran into the room, excited, eyes wide like a little kid. He told you about the call he received and that Cole Bennett wanted to film the music video but you tuned him out once the idea was told to you.

Jack explained it would be in a diner and he’d be surrounded by women, you swore up and down that, you felt your blood physically boil.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” He sat next to you concern painted across his face.

“You’re going to be surrounded by all those beautiful women and forget all about me” you huffed.

“Baby, that would never happen” he sighed, having been through this before. “Do you wanna be in the video?” His face fell, and you could tell he felt defeated.

You shook your head, trying your best not to escalate the argument.

That night ended in tears, both your own and Jack's.

After that night you swore you’d be better, more understanding, and less jealous. And you were, for a while.

Jack ended up recording his first album, with a big label behind him meaning he had tons of opportunities that he never had before. Which also meant he was rarely ever home.

You knew you had to let him go, for the sake of his career. You knew he wanted this more than anything in the world and you didn’t want to stand in his way because you were insecure.

You remember the breakup like it was yesterday, it stayed forever engraved in your mind. The way Jack's face fell when you told him you couldn’t do it anymore broke you over and over again for months.

“But I love you, don’t you love me too?” he shouted, his lips trembling. His blue eyes filled to the brim with tears.

“It’s because I love you that I can’t do this anymore.”

He didn’t understand it at the time but the older and wiser he got, it started making more sense.

You shut your eyes tight, trying not to cry as you remembered the door slamming shut for the last time.

When Jack called your phone all the memories came flooding back, but you couldn’t bring yourself to block his number.

You watched as your phone rang for the second time tonight, Jack never called a second time, and your curiosity got the best of you.

“Hello? Are you okay?”

“Hi, I am now” his voice was warm, inviting and you immediately knew answering was likely the wrong decision. “Thought you’d never answer, remind me to change your name in my phone.”

“What is it?” You asked nervously.

“No answer, because when I call you don’t answer” he teased, knowing you loved his banter.

#Jack Harlow #Jack Harlow x reader #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow concept #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow blurb

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