Everyone Is Complaining About How “tumblr Is Dying” But How The Fuck Is It Supposed To Survive If

Happy birthday. Love your stories. Especially Lighthouse

✨HEYYYY IT’S A VERY SPECIAL DAY!!!! IT’S @for-fucks-sake-h ‘s BIRTHDAY!!!!✨

My girl. My good bitch. My ride or die. I wish you the very very very best day and entire year ahead — you deserve it x10000. You’re the sweetest soul and kindest friend and I’m beyond lucky to call you mine. CLINK FUCKING CLINK to another trip around the sun. And a big shoutout to Gary Styles for bringing you to me. Love you forever. Happy birthday! 🥳♥️

I really like this

Happy 28th Birthday Harry!

So cute

Harry Styles | Sexy Can I

It’s New York baby 🤍🖤

I was jacked up ❤️

Here are some playcards I did for New York ❤️❤️

Hope you like them

Hot hot hot 🥵

Loser for the people in the back👏👏👏👏

Behind that "he's not going to fuck you" //

Also y’all don’t know that! I haven’t met him. Who’s to say he wouldn’t fuck me? Maybe he’d fuck me a lot and really well? That’s also propagating sex shaming, body shaming, and a physical ideal on women and suggesting that they aren’t good enough for Harry to want to fuck. It’s implying inherently something about you is not what Harry would be attracted to enough to want sex out of you, again propagating the idea that he only dates and fucks models and we don’t know his whole sexual history! It also implies he’d only want you for sex or that you only want him for sex which is also pretty damaging considering women are groomed from a young age to be pleasing to men sexually and men are trained to use women sexually to prove their own inherent worthiness as a male. Beauty is a status symbol because humanity is atrocious. Also, they don’t know who they’re saying that to, could be someone with low self esteem, BDD or an ED and it could trigger them. Comments that inherently shame related to sex or the body can be very hurtful to women because of internalized misogyny against our own bodies and being continually held to ideal set by men. This internalized misogyny is what makes women hold each other to unrealistic standards more than men, because those who fit the idea benefit (think models). ** look up panopticism by Foucault and then think about how that applies to advertising to young women** Most of us hold some sort of pain related to our sexuality or our looks. Here’s a nice read for all you lovely nonnies:

https://emmalindsay.medium.com/why-does-dating-men-make-me-feel-like-shit-12c25e539021

Also maybe Harry isn’t good enough to fuck me! Maybe I’m not only interested in him for sex? Maybe he’s not going to fuck me because he’s respectful enough to see my worth beyond my pussy. Idk why I needed to go offf, could be months of repeated shaming in a fucked way that continues one of the things I hate most, who knows 🤷‍♀️ women are more than sex objects, status symbols, and ideals for men. They are human beings.

I LOVE YOU! 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽

link

no fuck off

Why can’t I be so lucky. But I’m happy for her

this was so cute 😭

Love it

LIBERATION I.

A/N: i couldn't hold myself back and just HAD TO post this😂😂 bot now yall need to send me feedback so i know i made the right decision of posting this now👀

PAIRING: guard!Harry X royal!Reader

WARNINGS: adult content, arranged marriage

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

masterlist

The exceptional silk nightgown slips down your body, the featherlike, cold touch of the expensive fabric sending a shiver down your spine as you stare back at your reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror, the room thick with the sweet scent of vanilla and coconut, your favorite shower gel you get imported all the way from France. Drained eyes look back at you, almost lifeless and you wonder who this person could be you’re seeing as your reflection because you can’t recognize yourself anymore.

Wrapping yourself up in your bathrobe, you make your way out of the bathroom into your bedroom, two of your maids already waiting for you by your vanity. As you sit into the plush chair, they get to work instantly, without a word, taking care of your hair so it’s in the best condition for the big day tomorrow. They brush through your locks, using the finest essential oils and products, turning your hair into silk, just like the kind that’s hugging your body. Reaching up your fingers tap on the bags under your eyes, the makeup artist will have a lot to work on in the morning if she wants to turn you into the perfect princess, soon queen, everyone knows and loves. If only they knew the dirt and the pain hiding underneath the glamorous surface.

You’re getting married in the morning. As a kid, you always dreamt of your prince charming, a man you fall for the second you lay your eyes on and you get to have your own fairytale. It was silly of you to think you have the privilege of marrying someone you love.

Andrew Jacoby Coventry is a gentleman. He is well-mannered, intelligent, fluent in six languages and he can beat your father in chess. He is undeniably handsome and any woman would be thrilled to marry such a wonderful bachelor, but not you.

Because you’re not in love with him. Yet, you’ve known you’d have to marry him since you were sixteen.

You still remember the day your mother sat you down and told you that Andrew is going to visit the palace that week to discuss matters of a possible union between the two families, the Coventry’s have been highly respected for hundreds of years and they’ve been always alliances to the royals. Your father chose them to help you fulfill your destiny of becoming a queen.

“You cannot take the throne without a man by your side, Y/N,” your mother told you, but it was nothing new. You didn’t quite put the picture together yet just then. “Your father might be in good health now, but we can’t know what the future holds. We have to make sure you’re eligible to become queen when the time comes.”

“What… are you trying to say, mom?” you asked, slowly realizing where the conversation is heading.

“Andrew is a nice boy. You’ll get around to like him, I’m sure.”

You saw the pain in her eyes, she didn’t want this. She didn’t want to make her daughter marry someone just for the sake of the throne, but she didn’t have any other choice and neither did you.

When you met Andrew just a few days later, you swallowed your tears as you introduced yourself to your future husband.

Now five years later the time has officially come, you’re marrying him tomorrow and going to take the throne next year, once your father resigns. His health won’t let him travel around and fulfill his duties for too long, he has made the decision not to wait until he is forced to step back, he would rather do it on his own terms.

“Thank you Kristin, thank you Mary. This is all for tonight,” you nod at them once they are finished with your hair. They say their goodbye and leave you alone in the room, trapped with your racing thoughts.

You’ve thought about running away at least a dozen times this month. Just getting on a plane and forgetting about the wedding, but you know you could never actually do it. Your family counts on you, the palace counts on you and the whole country counts on you. You’re their future queen and you owe them.

But what exactly do you owe them? Your whole life? Giving up the chance of marrying someone you love? Is that really what you have to do?

Standing by the window you stare out to the flower garden, a place you often like to go to when you want to have some peace of mind. It’s breathtaking in the spring, the colors, the scent, you can easily wander around for hours and not even notice how long it’s been. Behind that, on top of the hill the greenhouse is almost hidden in the dark, already decorated for tomorrow. You’re going to have your photos taken in there, just like your mother, your grandmother and every other women in your family had on their wedding day. You’ll have to pose for hours with faked happiness on your face just to get a handful of pictures that will be released to the press the next day, millions of little girls dreaming about being just like you when you’d give an arm to have their normal life.

You always want what you can’t have, right?

Your eyes wander over to the West wind of the palace, only seeing one window lit and though it’s too far to see anything from inside the room, you know exactly who is in there. Before you could even give it a second thought you wrap your robe tighter around you, walking out of your bedroom and heading over to the room you’ve come to know all too well these past years. You know the hallways leading to Harry’s room like the back of your hand and not just because you grew up in this place, but because it’s been a habit of yours to sneak out and see him when everyone else went to sleep.

The day you met Harry Styles was a turning point in your life. Introduced to you as head of security three years ago, you didn’t know you met your best friend and the man you’ll fall for and experience what it’s like to love and be loved.

It was a forbidden love from the start and not just because you were already set to marry Andrew, but because you knew your family would never approve of your relationship with him, no matter what. You had royal blood in your veins and Harry was the son of a teacher and barber, worked at a bakery as a teenager and joined the military for three years before he was brought to the palace.

You fought it for a long time. Even thought about asking for a replacement, because it was getting hard to be even in the same room with all the tension and desire lingering around the two of you and you knew he was just as conflicted as you were. The turning point came one particularly terrible night when you got into a fight with your father. You found peace in Harry’s arms and you let your guards down, making the first move to cross the line from where there’s no returning.

You haven’t looked back since then, sneaking around in the darkness, seeking every chance you can get to be with him without anyone finding out about it, though you couldn’t fool your mother.

“I know what a woman in love looks like, Y/N,” she told you when she called you to her one day. Your blood froze, because you knew she won’t believe that it was just your feelings for Andrew.

“Mom, I…”

“He is a sight for the sore eyes, I must admit. But I thought you’re smarter than this.”

Her words felt like a slap across your face each. Tears stung your eyes as you stood there and listened to your mother tell you how disappointed she was in you and she made you promise that you’d end it right away.

And you tried, you really tried. But you couldn’t keep yourself away from him and he felt the same way. Since then, you’ve been extra cautious and you feel like your mother believed that it was all in the past.

Part of you believed you could go on like this forever, but the closer the wedding was getting, the more you realized that it was doomed from the beginning and the moment you say I do to another man… you’re saying goodbye to Harry.

You can’t expect him to sneak around with you forever, he wants a family, a normal life and you can’t give him any of those, not while being married to Andrew and taking the throne once your father steps down.

Last night you got into a screaming match. The fight escalated fast, mean things were thrown around, everything that’s been building up in the both of you because of the wedding just lashed out until there was nothing else to say. You both knew that was the end, you couldn’t continue it once you married Andrew. You would have never put him through the pain of watching you walk down the aisle when the two of you were still a thing. When you returned to your bedroom last night you were convinced this was the end of it, the heartbreak pulling you into the darkness you’ve been edging for a while now, cutting out the last thing that brought you happiness.

Yet, here you are, padding down the endless hallways of the palace to see him again. You have to be with him, look into his eyes and touch him one last time to remind yourself that there are still good things in life.

When you reach his door you take a few minutes, just standing there, wondering if he even wants to see you after what happened last night and what’s going to happen tomorrow. You never wanted to hurt him, you love him way too much, but the impossible situation you were put into brought it out of you.

Tears dwell in your eyes as you think about a time when he won’t be near you. You can’t imagine a life where he is not there to ease your mind, to keep you safe and not just as his job, but as your lover. Before you could stop yourself you’re sobbing. He can’t see you like this, you won’t cause him even more pain than you already did, so turning around you are just about to run back to your room when the door opens.

“Y/N?” his soft voice calls out and you freeze, a shiver running down your spine as you close your eyes for a moment. You can feel his stare poke through your back as he waits for you to say or do something, probably confused about why you’re here.

Slowly, you turn around, your tear-filled eyes falling upon his tall frame dressed in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants, his bare, inked chest falling and rising rhythmically as he stands just a few feet away from you. When he sees the state you’re in, he moves in your direction just when you throw yourself into his arms.

“Shh, it’s going to be alright. Come on, we can’t be out here,” he murmurs as you sob into his neck, his strong arms curling around you, pulling you into his room and shutting the door before anyone could see you.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you sob uncontrollably as Harry pulls you to his bed, making you sit on his lap on the edge of it, keeping you tight to him as he tries to soothe you.

“I know, baby. I know. It’s alright.”

“It’s not!” you choke out, vision completely blurry as you try to catch your breath, but you can’t stop. “I can’t do this, Harry. I don’t want this!”

He exhales sharply, brushing his nose against the side of your head as he presses a kiss to your temple. He lets you cry for as long as you want, the tears slowly stopping and drying up until you're breathing somewhat normally.

"Hey, look at me," he pleads softly and pulls back so his beautiful green eyes meet your red and puffy ones. "I know you feel like it's the end of the world, but you're strong, Y/N. The strongest woman I've ever met."

"I don't want to be strong, not anymore. I want to be selfish and do what I want for once in life," you breathe out shakily.

"I'm sorry you were put in this position, you deserve so much more than this pain. You deserve all the good things in life and I wish I could give it all to you."

"I only want one good thing in my life. You."

Reaching up you cup his face in your hands and pull him down until your salty, tear soaked lips meet his in a painful but fierce kiss.

He tries to hold himself back for a few excruciating moments but then his lips finally open and he returns the kiss with so much passion and emotion that you gasp against his mouth.

If your life ends tomorrow, and it surely feels like that, you want to spend your last free night with the only man you've ever loved.

You move around until you're straddling his lap, his hands keeping you close to him, fingers digging into your flesh through the layers. Shrugging the robe off you reveal your silky nightgown that doesn't leave much to the imagination, your hardened nipples poking through the fabric already, aching to get Harry's attention finally.

His lips move down to the column of your throat, the dip of your neck, trying his hardest not to mark you up the way he truly wants. Your fingers dig into his hair, tugging on the roots enough to make him grunt against your heated skin, his hands moving down to grope your ass and you can't help yourself from grinding against him.

Suddenly, he pulls back, eyes foggy from the desire and lust as his chest heaves.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he breathes out, a torturous grimace plastered across his face.

"Please, I need you!" you beg him, fighting your tears back.

He stares up at you, pink lips slightly swollen from your kisses, his glistening eyes taking in every detail on your face, every blemish and freckle that adorns your features.

"I wish it was all different," he whispers barely audible, you're convinced it wasn't even meant to be heard by you.

Before you could speak up, he kisses you again, pulling you down to the bed, rolling around until he is on top of you, lips traveling down your neck and chest again as his hands bunch up your nightgown. With an arch of your back you help him take it off, leaving you in nothing but a pair of lacy underwear. His hips settle between your legs, crotch pressing against your heated core, a pleasant moan slips through your lips at the feeling of his erection between your folds as he moves his hips gently a few times to rile you up. He kisses the valley between your breasts, down through your stomach, placing a chaste kiss to your hips on both sides as his fingers hook into your underwear and he looks up at you for your consent before he goes any further.

"Yes! Please!" you nod eagerly and he is quick to rid you from it, leaving you completely naked and spread out in front of his greedy eyes.

"I will never forget how you taste. So sweet on my tongue and lips," he hums, teasing you with a few kisses placed onto your inner thighs before his lips finally meet your throbbing clit, sucking on it gently at first before stepping it up a notch.

"Harry!" you whimper, bunching the sheets in your hands to somehow keep you grounded as Harry's mouth does wonders to you. However as much as you love having his face between your legs, you need it somewhere else now.

Pulling him up you make him climb up over your body, lips eagerly meeting as you work on getting him naked too.

"You're my everything," he breathes out against your lips, hips coming to rest between your thighs once again and you whimper at his words, the aching pain in your chest rising.

"I love you, I will always love you," you whisper looking into his eyes as you hook a leg around his waist, his cock lining up with you finally.

"I love you, Y/N. More than anything," he confesses just as he pushes into you and just like that, you feel like you've become one again, for the last time.

You keep him close as he starts moving, whispering I love you over and over again, his lips nipping on your mouth that's agape from the building relief inside you, a single tear rolling down your cheek as the painful thought snakes into your mind that you will never feel like this ever in your life.

The pleasure reaches you first and Harry chases right after you, tangled in each other's arms as you keep calling out for the other even though you're as close as possible in that moment.

Wrapped up in each other's embrace you lie in bed, the afterwaves of your relief already long gone. You're drawing little patterns onto his bare chest, fingers following the inks on his soft skin as his hand is gently stroking your back and arm, kissing the top of your head from time to time.

"We should just pack up and leave. Never look back," he hums, breaking the comfortable yet heavy silence that took over the room.

You suck on your breath because it's the first time Harry ever mentions the option of running away. It was always you who toyed with the thought as he just nodded along but never really said a word about it. Lifting your head your eyes meet his as a small, sad smile tugs his lips.

"You would do that?"

"I would do anything for you, Y/N," he simply answers and your heart flutters at his words.

"If we actually did it, out life could easily be completely ruined," you say the hard truth. "I could get disowned from my family and denied to have access to any of my heritage. People would judge the both of us everywhere we went, we probably even should leave the country. We would always be the ones who ruined the royal family."

"But we would have each other. Going to another country is actually a good start, I wouldn't mind it."

"I would never be allowed to see my family ever again."

"You mean the people who put you up for living your life in misery?" he retorts without a second thought, so he must have already thought about it before.

"I was born here. No one chose it for me."

"But they are the ones who made you marry someone just for the sake of the country."

"It's a tradition and it's in the law. I can't become queen without a husband."

"And have you ever thought about how it doesn't work the other way around? Your father was already king for almost a decade before he married your mother. So then why should you be forced to have a man by your side before you take the throne? And the council could easily erase the whole law, it was just never proposed because 90 percent of it is men and the handful of women who have the right to change something don't care about the toxic patriarchy that's been around here for hundreds of years."

You knew Harry had doubts about the system and how power is being held and used in the country, but he was always so cautious to keep it to himself, serving your family with nothing but loyalty. You would have never guessed this would be the moment that breaks his silence.

"I could only do something against it if I'm already queen," you speak up. "And for that I need to be married. If I want a better future for the women following me on the throne, I need to make this sacrifice."

"You'll be an amazing queen, Y/N," he softly tells you. "It's a shame you don't get to have the happiness you deserve."

You don't talk about running away after or the wedding. Just bring up your favorite memories from the past years, the first time you met, the time you spent in London and managed to squeeze in a dinner with his mother or the endless nights you talked through, tangled in each other, sharing your dreams and fears, knowing they will always be safe with the other.

You fall asleep in each other's arms, savoring the very last moments you get to spend together before you give up the last bit of your free will.

When Harry wakes in the morning he is alone, only the wrinkled sheets and the empty space next to him reminding him that last night wasn't just a dream, but it will soon turn into one as he is forced to watch you walk down the aisle and marry another man.

Read the sequel here!

Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!

Loved 🥰 this post

I have some thoughts 💭 :

This is the Harry who wrote baby honey , kiwi, medicine , only angel and complicated freak ….. now this Harry does not give one single fuck about you, your simply good fuck and that’s all you’ll ever be and to be fair your ok with that. This fella texts you at 3am with a simple “you up” and you already know he’s in the range sitting outside your house. He never takes you to his house , it’s either in the back of his Range Rover or on the odd occasion he comes to your flat but he never stays, he’s spends just enough time to catch his Breath before he’s pulling on those tight jeans and Chelsea boots without giving you a second glance as you lay there entirely fucked out . He has a pain kink and frequently requests you tug on his hair and he fucks you hard and pulls your lip by his teeth so hard it near bleeds. He never asks if it’s good for you because he knows it is and in years to come when your married to some dude in business your mind can’t help to wonder back to the time he fucked you in the back of his Range Rover legs over his shoulder, spat in your mouth and never called again……

Now this Harry is an entirely different man….. this is the Harry who wrote adore you , golden and TPWK. This Harry plans your dates meticulously, sends good Morning and evening texts daily and always checks in. Talks about you to all his friends, sends you flowers weekly and loves a picnic. He plans recipes for dinners he wants to make you and is constantly needing validation from Jeff and Mitch that “yes Harry of course she likes you.” Now sex with this man… he makes it very clear that your pleasure is very much his, making sure he asks if this is good for you and what you need form him to get you there . It’s soft and gentle and you do need to remind him from time to time that it’s ok to go harder . He’s a big fan of aftercare and spoons you all night before making you breakfast in morning.