#how to promote my business online for free

[todaynewsonline]

How to Advertise Your Business on Google: A Comprehensive Guide

How to Advertise Your Business on Google: A Comprehensive Guide:- In today’s digital age, advertising your business on Google has become essential for reaching a wide audience and driving growth. Google, being the world’s leading search engine, offers a variety of advertising options to help your business thrive. In this article, we’ll explore the ins and outs of advertising on Google and provide…

[simpforboys]

Surprise! (3)

Drew Starkey x fem!singer!reader

Summary: reader and Drew celebrate the release of the ‘Perfume’ music video!

Warnings: fluff, smut, oral (f receiving), praise, swearing, male masturbation, dirty talk, missionary position, sex on couch, daddy kink, protective piv sex, boob worship (?), drinking wine, fangirling

Part one, part two, part four

taglist is full :(

Two weeks had went by.

Two long, busy weeks of you not hearing much from Drew, other than the promotions and photo stills you would send him.

It was finally the release day, and within 18 hours, the video had already reached 200 million views.

You were currently sitting on your light grey couch, flicking through Netflix movies when your phone buzzed with a notification.

Drew Starkey: Hey, congrats on the success of the video. I’m still very honored you wanted me to he apart of it. You still down to celebrate?

Oh.

In all honesty you were expecting Drew to stop talking to you after the shoot.

But within those two weeks, you were both extremely busy, so reaching out was hard.

That didn’t mean you two didn’t text at all, it was just two or three messages a day.

Drew was notorious for being a bad texter, not to mention how filled up his schedule was.

So you never took it to heart. Or, at least tried.

But seeing the notification that he actually still wanted to hang out, wanted to celebrate with you…

Your User: hi, thank you so much! i’m still so happy and grateful you said yes <33

Your User: and yes i’m still down to celebrate!! when are you free?

Maybe the double texting was too much, but you were already a glass of wine in, and texting your celebrity crush.

To your surprise, he replied pretty quickly.

Drew Starkey: I’m actually free rn surprisingly, are you?

Oh.

You were in fact free, but ready was the better question.

No, you were not ready to see Drew fucking Starkey, especially looking like how you were currently dressed.

Only wearing sweatpants, a shirt that is three sizes too big, fuzzy socks, and no bra was not exactly presentable to meet the love of your life.

Your User: yes, but i look absolutely horrible rn

Again, another quick response.

Drew Starkey: I doubt that. Can I come see you?

You typed out a message.

Your User: CNEOSHWOSHEODNEOWHSOWBSIFBEOSBAJDBDKDHOSBSKSBDJSHS😜���👍😜🤭🔥🫶😩

That was what you really wanted to reply with, but instead went for something more nonchalant.

Your User: yeah, you want my address?

It was never good to share your address to anyone online, especially after only meeting in person twice.

But it was Drew Starkey. You would send anything to that man, no questions asked.

Drew Starkey: Yes please

You had spent the last 30 minutes frantically cleaning your apartment. Not that it was a complete mess, but you did want it to be cleaner than what it was.

A soft knock on your door was heard, heart pounding in your chest, hands shaking with nervousness.

Peeking through the peephole, seeing his familiar face was enough to make you almost back out.

Why did you have to be so fucking nervous? He was just a man.

Your fingers unlocked the door, opening it gently.

“Hey, Y/n.” Drew smiled warmly at you, holding a bouquet of flowers.

“Hi… come on in.” You grinned back, trying to hide the feeling in your chest.

Drew’s long legs guide him inside the apartment and he takes a second to look around.

It was cozy, and definitely you.

“I got these f’you.” He hums, holding out the flowers.

“Oh, these are my favorite flowers, Drew… you didn’t have to do that.” You awed, taking the bouquet as he practically handed it to you.

He knew they were your favorite flowers. He might have looked up y/n l/n’s favorite flower onto Google. Not that he would ever admit that, though.

“Really? Damn, lucky pick, I guess.” He chuckled, scratching the side of his neck a little sheepishly.

Putting the flowers in a vase, you realized that he was wearing sweats and a hoodie. It was 10:23pm on a Friday, and clearly you two were appreciating a night off.

It made you feel better about your outfit.

“Do you want anything to eat or drink? I have white or red wine, beer, vodka, soda, water…” You trailed off your options.

“What’re you drinking?” He hummed.

You nodded over to the coffee table, an open bottle of wine with a half filled glass on it.

“Wine.”

“I’ll just have some of that, then.” Drew murmurs.

You grabbed another wine glass and walked over to the couch, hearing his feet behind you.

Sitting down on the couch, you got all comfortable underneath the blanket again, then reached over to pour him a glass of wine.

“Cheers, to the success of ‘Perfume’, and to you.” Drew says softly, holding his glass out for you to clink.

Feeling your face grow a bit warm, you tapped your glass with his.

“Cheers to you being amazing.” You took a sip of the wine, your eyes locked onto his blue ones.

“You have a nice apartment, by the way. Forgot to say that.” He hums.

“Thank you, I wanted to make it as cozy as possible for those rare times I am at home.” You explain.

"Yeah, I get that. Life nowadays is just so hectic." He agrees, blue eyes trailing over your face, as if committing each feature to memory.

"Well, yeah. You're all big and famous now," you tease.

He chuckles sheepishly, his large hand running along the back of his head.

"You have any big plans coming up?" He asked you.

"Yeah, actually. I'm supposed to be preforming at the iHeartRadio Jingle Ball festival in a week," you nod.

"Really? Damn. That beats me, then." He joked.

"What do you have coming up?" You questioned.

"Variety is going to have Harris Dickinson and I do that Actors on Actors interview thing."

"Yeah? That sounds fun," you hummed.

The two of you spent an hour and a half talking about life, success, and just got to know each other.

You both finished the bottle of wine and were now onto your second bottle, the two of you tipsy as you giggled on the couch.

Your body felt warm and you weren't completely sure if it was from the alcohol or the fact that a beautiful man was sitting a foot away from you on your own couch.

Drew felt the same, and one specific joke you made had him laughing a little too hard. His eyes creased in the corner as he smiled, those pretty dimples on display.

But when his large hand went to rest on your knee, the wine in your system completely fought off your anxiety, making you more relaxed.

You found yourself leaning into his touch, your hand resting atop of his.

"Your laugh is so cute, Drew," you murmured.

"Yeah? You're cute," he responded.

You bit your lip, eyes locked onto his. "Is that the alcohol talking or you?"

He grinned, shaking his head.

"That's me talking."

Oh.

"You're sweet..." you trailed off, trying to ignore how butterflies filled your belly.

He just hummed, a comfortable, tension-filled silence falling between you two.

"So, you really had a crush on me for four years?" He teased, squeezing your knee a little.

"Oh, god. We're back at this now, huh?" You grumbled in embarrassment, although there was no real malice behind your tone.

He smirked, licking his lips. "We never left it."

"I certainly did."

"Yeah? You don't have a crush on me anymore?" He murmured, the playful tone in his voice making your stomach turn more.

"I didn't say that...." you trailed off, picking at the extra skin near your nails.

His eyes trail over your form again, taking in every inch of you he can see that's not hidden by the blanket on your lap.

"Hm? Sorry, I didn't hear you."

You rolled your eyes, face hot. "I'm sure you didn't."

He laughed, scooting a little closer to you so your legs were touching.

"'m just fucking with you," he said softly.

"I know..." you glanced over at him, eyes instinctively falling down to his pretty lips.

It had been too long since you felt them on you.

Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the boost of confidence Drew had gotten, but he slowly leaned in, his free hand going to run his index finger and thumb on your chin.

"Is this okay?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah... yes..." you breathed out shakily, heart racing.

He hummed, gently connecting your lips to his own.

Feeling that familiar, addictive spark when his skin touched yours. You immediately kissed back, your left hand going to cup his jaw.

Kissing. You were kissing Drew fucking Starkey. And it wasn't for work, wasn't for cameras. He kissed you first.

Within moments, he was laying you back on the light grey couch, the fluffy blanket being left abandoned on the floor.

His tongue was in your mouth, sculpted body hovering over yours. Your thighs were spread for him to nestle in between, left hand still cupping his strong jaw, right hand in that soft brown hair.

On instinct you pulled a little on the strands, making him grunt into your mouth. He disconnected your lips, trailing sloppy, needy kisses down your jaw and neck.

Chests pressed together, it was as if you two couldn't get any closer.

"Mhmm... Drew..." you whimpered softly when he nipped at the skin of your pulse point.

"Yeah? That feel nice, sweet girl?" He murmured, voice muffled from his attention on your neck.

You nodded, legs squeezing him in between your body.

"Can I take your shirt off, baby?" He asked, not wanting to do anything you weren't desiring.

"Please.." you breathed out, heart racing, stomach flipping.

His large hand slipped the oversized fabric off and over your head, a small whine leaving him when he saw your pretty tits.

"Fuck, Y/n... you been hiding these from me?" He mumbled teasingly, continuing his line of kisses and nibbles down your collarbone, in between the valley of your breasts.

"All you needed to do was ask," you panted. Your back instinctively arched up, your chest needing some attention from his warm mouth.

He groaned at your answer, moving slightly down your body until he was eye level with your hard nipples. He swirled his tongue around the bud, blue eyes locked on your face when he sucked your nipple into his mouth.

Your body jolted a little, making him hold your side with his left hand, his right hand massaging the other stiffened bud.

He switched sides after a few moments, relishing in the sounds of your pretty moans and pants.

But something else was throbbing and aching, desperately needing his attention.

"Drew," you whined.

"Hmm?" He hummed, still worshipping your boobs.

"Need you."

"Yeah?" He cooed, reluctantly disconnecting his mouth from your right nipple as he continued to kiss down your stomach.

You nod, breathing short and needy. He got to the waistband of your sweatpants, looking back up at you.

"You can take those off too." You gave permission, already knowing what the man was going to ask.

He wasted no time in slipping the fabric down your legs, readjusting so his face was in between your spread thighs.

"Look how you ruined these panties, pretty girl... you're so needy f'me, huh?" He murmured softly.

All you could do was whine when he pressed a tender kiss to your clothed clit, the fabric absolutely soaked. It had been way too long since you'd had sex.

His large hand slid the fabric down your thighs, leaving you completely bare for him.

"So beautiful, baby. So beautiful..." he muttered, talking more to himself than you.

Your legs twitched when he flicked his tongue against your clit, hands digging in his hair.

"Drew--"

"I know, baby. Let daddy eat this pretty pussy, yeah? Just sit back and relax."

A needy whimper left your mouth, but you didn't respond. Not that you could, as he licked a stripe from your pulsating hole to the top of your clit.

He hoisted your thighs over his broad shoulders, moaning a little at your taste. His movements became more eager, beginning to lap at your cunt like a starved man.

Right hand in his hair, left hand gripping the couch. Your eyes rolled back, hips bucking up towards his face.

He made a grunt directly into your clit, another jolt of pleasure going into your body.

"Daddy... fuck..."

His piercing blue eyes were feeding off of your facial expressions, his cock throbbing in his own sweats.

He slipped two fingers into your cunt, focusing his mouth on your clit. His left hand slid down his own pants, beginning to palm his cock through his boxers.

"Yeah? Is daddy making you feel good, sweet girl?" He coos, whining a little as his own hips buck on the couch, desperate for more friction.

His noise and hips bucking made your cunt clench around his fingers, as if trying to pull him in deeper.

The knot in your stomach was already forming, almost embarrassing how quickly he turned you into a mess.

Legs trembling over his shoulders, hips rocking against his face and chin. You couldn't even announce you were coming, mind fuzzy from the pleasure.

He hummed when he noticed you releasing, continuing to lap up all your juices as he came in his pants.

When your body calmed down, he pulled away from your pussy and kneeled in between your legs.

He peeled his own hoodie off, revealing that perfect, toned body of his again. Your eyes drank in the sight, licking your lips.

“You’re so hot, Drew…” you murmured.

His ears were ringing, need coursing through his veins as he slipped off his sweats and boxers.

You had to physically hold back a gasp when you saw his cock for the first time.

People had always written it differently in all those guilty pleasure Rafe Cameron fanfics you would read when you couldn’t sleep.

But seeing it in person was just a whole new experience.

It was long and thick, which was to be expected. The man radiated big dick energy.

Pretty mushroom tip that was still leaking, his pubic hair slightly fuzzy as if he hadn’t shaved it in a week.

“Holy shit…”

“Mhm? Better than you imagined?” He asked teasingly, a smirk on his face as he grabbed a condom from his wallet.

You couldn’t help but playfully roll your eyes, a small snicker leaving you.

He rolled the condom onto his shaft, moving to hover over you again.

“Are you sure you want this, Y/n?” He asked softly, eyes gazing intently into yours.

“Yes… please fuck me, daddy.”

He let out a small groan, nestling himself in between your thighs. He used a long, strong arm to grab a couch pillow and tuck it under your hips.

You watched as he teasingly slid his head up and down your slit, tapping it against your throbbing bundle of nerves.

“Don’t tease me, please,” you beg.

Your pretty begging weakened his resolve as he slowly slid into you.

Whimpers and noises of pleasure left the both of you at the feeling, a course of energy being shared within your two bodies.

He kept pushing until he was all the way inside, giving you a moment to adjust as he captured your lips in his.

Your hands roamed over his biceps and back, loving the way the muscles flex against your palms. His skin was burning, adding to the electric feel.

When he felt you stop tensing around him, he began to slowly pull back, before pushing in, creating a delicious rhythm.

“Fuck… you feel so fuckin’ good, baby.” He moaned.

Your legs tightened around his hips, a noise leaving you as he rubbed right against that spongy spot.

“So deep, Drew… can feel you so deep,” you whined in between breaths.

“Yeah? You take this dick so good, pretty girl.”

His movements were getting a little rougher with every minute passing, both of you needing this.

Your crush on him for four years, the sexual tension you shared in the music video, the chemistry when you first met him on The Tonight Show.

It was all so surreal and felt like you were living straight out of a fanfic or dream.

His head dropped down to your chest, clearly having a thing for your hardened nipples as he nibbled gently.

Maybe one day Drew would fuck you without the condom and be able to feel your warm, velvety walls squeezing him without the protection.

He could dream.

“Shit, shit, shit.” You swore, the pillow under your hips allowing for his tip to kiss your cervix with every thrust.

“Mhm, yeah. Good girl.” He praised breathlessly, feeling a little lightheaded from everything.

The couch creaked a little beneath you two, your nails digging into his back.

He was already close, eyes fluttered shut as he lifted his head to press a kiss to your forehead.

His calloused thumb went to rub your clit, making your legs twitch around his sculpted hips.

Your cunt squeezed around his cock, your belly on fire with your building orgasm.

“You gonna cum f’me, sweet girl?” He choked out, hips snapping against yours.

“Y-yes!” You squeak, mind hazy, body trembling.

“Yeah… that’s it… let me feel you…”

His breathy words, deep penetration, and touch on your clit sent you over the edge again.

You moaned loudly, clinging onto his body as he talked you through your orgasm.

He was also talking himself through it, feeling his cock twitch as he spilled his seed into the condom.

His body was still against yours, both of you catching your breaths from the intensity.

He pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead again, his chest rising and falling.

“You okay?” He asked you softly.

“Mhm… ‘m good…”

You kissed his lips again, more gently this time. His nose brushed against yours when he pulled away, lips connecting to your cheek.

He reluctantly slid out of you, kneeling between your legs again as his blue eyes gazed down at your cunt.

“Did you bring any more condoms?” You ask after a few moments.

He looks at your face, then reaches over to grab his wallet. He pulls out two more condom wrappers.

You grinned, licking your lips.

“So are we going two more rounds or what?”

tags!!

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[zooophagous]

So why do you hate the advertising industry?

Hokay so.

Let me preface this with some personal history. It's not relevant to the sins of the advertising industry perse but it illustrates how I started to grow to hate it.

I wanted to be a veterinarian growing up, but to be a vet you basically have to be good enough to get into medical school. I do not have the math chops or discipline to make it in medical school. I went into art instead, and in a desperate attempt to find some commercial viability that didn't involve moving to California, I went into graphic design.

I've been a graphic designer for about seven or eight years now and I've worn a lot of hats. One of them was working in a print shop. Now, the print shop had a lot of corporate customers who had various ad campaigns. One of them was Gate City Bank, which had a bigass stack of postcards ordered every couple months to mail to their customers.

Now, paper comes from Dakota Paper, and they make their paper the usual way. Somewhere far, far from our treeless plain there is a forest of tall trees. These trees are cut down and put on big fossil fuel burning trucks and hauled to a paper mill that turns them into pulp while spewing the most fowl odors imaginable over the neighboring town and loads the pulp up with bleach to give it a nice white color.

Then the paper is put on yet another big truck and hauled off to the local paper depot, then put on another big truck and delivered to my print shop, where I turned the paper into postcards telling people to go even deeper into debt to buy a boat because it's almost summer. The inks used are a type of nasty heat sensitive plastic that is melted to the surface of the paper with heat. Then the postcards are put on yet ANOTHER truck and sent to the bank, which puts them on ANOTHER truck and finally into the hands of their customers, who open their mail and take one look at the post card and immediately discard it.

Heaps and heaps and literal hundreds of pounds of literal garbage created at the whim of the marketing team several times a year. And thats just one bank in one city.

I came to realize very quickly that graphic design was the delicate art of turning trees into junk mail.

And wouldn't you know it there are a TON of companies that basically only do junk mail. Many of them operate under the guise of a "charity," sending you pictures of suffering children or animals and begging for handouts and when they get those handouts the executives take a nice fat cut, give some small token amount to whatever cause they pay lip service to, and then put the rest of the cash right back into making more mailers. "Direct mail marketing" they call it.

Oh but maybe it's not so bad, you can advertise online after all. Now that there's decent ad blocker out there and better anti-virus ads usually don't destroy your computer anymore just by existing.

Except now when I search for the exact business I want on Google it's buried under three or four different "promoted search items" tricking me into clicking on them only to shoot themselves in the foot because I searched for the specific result I wanted for a reason and couldn't use those other websites even if I felt like it.

And now we have advertising on YouTube and on every streaming service, forcing more and more eyes onto the ad for the brand new Buick Envision that parks itself because you're too stupid to do it on your own.

Oh thats ok maybe I'll get Spotify premium and go ad free and listen to some podcasts- SIKE we have the hosts of your show doing the song and dance now. Are you depressed and paranoid from listening to my true crime podcast about murdered and mutilated teenagers? That's ok, my sponsor Better Help can keep you sane enough to stay alive and spend more money.

It's gotten so terrible that now you have content farms, huge hubs of shell companies that crank out video after video to get more and more precious clicks. Which if the videos were innocuous maybe that wouldn't be so awful except now you have cooking hacks that can actually burn your house down and craft hacks that can electrocute you being flung into your eyes at the speed of mach fuck so some slimy internet clickbait jockey doesn't need to get a real job.

It of course goes without saying that animals are also relentlessly exploited by clickbait companies that will put them in compromising situations on purpose to create a fake fishing hack video or even just straight up killing them for sport by feeding small animals to a pufferfish that rips them apart for the camera.

And all of this, ALL of this doesn't even touch how adveritising is the death of art in general. Queer topics, any kind of interesting art, any kind of sex or substance use topics are scrubbed clean and hidden at the behest of advertisers.

Sex education, a nude statue, topics such as racism or sexism or bigotry in general have tags purged or hidden from search, even life saving information about SDTs or drug use, because if someone saw that and complained then Verizon might sell fewer tablets and we can't fucking have that.

Conservative talking heads often bitch and moan that they're being censored on social media. The stupid part is, they're right! They are being censored! But it's not by a woke mob, it's by ATT and Coca Cola not wanting their adspace sharing screen time with their stupid fucking opinions.

However, they won't ever figure that out, because the talking heads they get their marching orders from like Tucker and Jones ALSO rely on the sweet milk flowing from the sponsorship teat and they aren't about to turn on their meal ticket so they have to come up with even stupider shit to say for the train to continue rolling.

I managed to rant this far without even getting into the ads I see for the beauty industry. The other day a botox ad described wrinkles as "moderate to severe crows feet" as if wrinkles are a symptom of a fucking serious disease! Like having a flaw in your skin is a medical problem that you need thousands of dollars of literal botulism toxin to fix! I was incandescent with anger.

Advertising is a polluting, censoring, anti educational and anti art industry at it's very core. It destroys human connections, suppresses human thought and makes us hate our own bodies. It ads no value, actively detracts from value, and serves no real purpose and I believe it should be almost if not entirely banned.

[bitchesgetriches]

Everything You Need to Know about How to Increase Your Income

Make more money at the job you have

One of the simplest ways to increase your income is to just make your current employer pay you more. But while it may be simple, it ain’t always easy.

Santa Isn’t Coming and Neither Is Your Promotion: How To Get Promoted

How I Chessmastered Myself Into a Promotion at Work

The First Time I Asked for a Raise

You Need To Ask for a Fucking Raise

Ask the Bitches: “Can I Quit With Unvested Funds? Or Am I Walking Away From Too Much Money?” 

The Ultimate Guide to Growing Your Salary

Make more money at your next job

All that said, you’re statistically more likely to increase your income faster by job hopping! So if your current employer doesn’t want to pay you more, leave that sinking ship behind in pursuit of a higher salary.

Job Hopping vs. Career Loyalty by the Numbers

The Fascinating Results of Our Job Hopping vs. Career Loyalty Poll

How NOT to Determine Your Salary

When It Comes to Salary Negotiations, Are You Asking for Enough?

What To Do When You’re Asked About Your Salary Requirements in a Job Interview

If Your Employer Refuses To Negotiate Salary, Try These 11 Creative Counteroffers

Season 4, Episode 9: “I’m on the Wrong Career Path. How Do I Convince a New Industry To Take a Chance on Me?” 

Invest your way to more money

Of course there are some who say the true path to wealth is passive income: when you stop working for your money and instead let your money work for you. And they’re not wrong! Here’s how we recommend you increase your income passively.

When Money in the Bank Is a Bad Thing: Understanding Inflation and Depreciation

Investing Deathmatch: Investing in the Stock Market vs. Just… Not 

What’s the REAL Rate of Return on the Stock Market?

Dafuq Is a Retirement Plan and Why Do You Need One? 

Procrastinating on Opening a Retirement Account? Here’s 3 Ways That’ll Fuck You Over.

Season 4, Episode 1: “Index Funds Include Unethical Companies. Can I Still Invest in Them, or Does That Make Me a Monster?” 

Small Business Investing: A Kinder, Gentler Alternative to the Stock Market 

The Dark Magic of Financial Horcruxes: How and Why to Diversify Your Assets 

Make more money through side hustles

When it comes to side hustles, we have traditionally advocated caution. The last thing you want to do is burn out in pursuit of a second income stream. But with enough wits and fortitude, a side hustle could help you increase your income by leaps and bounds.

Romanticizing the Side Hustle: When 1 Job Isn’t Enough

Season 2, Episode 9: “I Use My Free Time to Volunteer. Should I Focus on Making Money Instead?”

Stop Undervaluing Your Freelance Work, You Darling Fool

Freelancer, Protect Thyself… With a Fair Contract 

Season 4, Episode 10: “I’m a Freelance Artist. How Do I Price My Work Fairly Without Losing Clients?”

Ask the Bitches: My Boss Won’t Give Me a Contract and I’m Freaking Out 

“Independent Contractor” My Ass: How to Stop Wage Theft Through Worker Misclassification 

Becoming a Millennial Entrepreneur (In the Midst of a Pandemic) With Katelyn Magnuson 

11 Awful Mistakes I Made as a Self-employed Freelancer, and How You Can Avoid Them

The Magic of Unclaimed Property: How I Made $1,900 in 10 Minutes by Being a Disorganized Mess

I Am a Craigslist Samurai and so Can You: How to Sell Used Stuff Online

What to do when you make more money

Once you increase your income, you might find yourself… not quite bored, but finding you have a little more bandwidth to handle the stuff that matters. It can be a jarring transition! Here are our thoughts on the matter.

Season 3, Episode 7: “I’m Finished With the Basic Shit. What Are the Advanced Financial Steps That Only Rich People Know?” 

Season 3, Episode 4: “The More Money I Save, the More I’m Scared To Lose It. Can I Break the Cycle of Financial Anxiety?” 

How to Avoid Lifestyle Inflation … and When to Embrace It

Ask the Bitches: I Know How to Struggle and Fight, but I Don’t Know How to Succeed

Update: I Know How to Struggle and Fight, but I Don’t Know How to Succeed 

The FIRE Movement, Explained 

I Was Happy to Marry a Poor Man. Then Things Changed.

I Have Become the Rich Relative I Always Wanted 

Believing in Miracles: A Conversation with Chris Dane Owens on Money, Creativity, and Self-Funding Art 

I Now Make More Money Than My Husband, and It’s Great for Our Marriage 

Season 2, Episode 1: “I’m Financially Stable, but My Friends Aren’t. The Guilt Is Crushing!”

The Resignation Checklist: 25 Sneaky Ways To Bleed Your Employer Dry Before Quitting

Advocate for systemic change

We don’t endorse an attitude of “I got mine.” So once you increase your income, there are lots of ways to use your newfound financial breathing room for good! Lift as you climb, my friend. Here are a few ways to do so:

Wallet Activism: Using Your Money for Good with Author Tanja Hester 

Woke at Work: How to Inject Your Values into Your Boring, Lame-Ass Job 

Raising the Minimum Wage Would Make All Our Lives Better

Post a Salary Range in the Job Description, You Fucking Cowards

1 Easy Way All Allies Can Help Close the Gender and Racial Pay Gap

The Truth About Unions: What Has Organized Labor Done for You? 

How To Support a Labor Strike with 3 Simple Steps

Everything in moderation

One last thing, my lambs: don’t crush your spirit while chasing the goal of a higher income. Working hard is hard work. If you find these tactics are leaving you exhausted and demoralized, you might be on the road to burnout. And that road leads nowhere good!

That’s why we just released our glorious new Burnout Workshop. Click the button below to take a peek!

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[eclipsethemagic]

Just best friends? |Lee Felix|

summary: Felix loves being friends with you so much that he doesn't want to lose you.

paring: idolfelix x!reader

Genre: fluff, a little bit of Angus

Song of the day: Gold by offonoff ft. Dean

(m.list)

wc: 2,224

Every time Felix looks at you his heart beats. Every time Felix looks at you his smile brightens. Every time Felix looks at you his day gets a little brighter. Just like today, when you walk into his room with the biggest smile on your face, it's contagious and he too, smiles at you. "I brought you mini donuts. I hope you like them." You told him as you walked over to his desk next to his bed and set them down. Felix nods and drops his phone to the side, moving his plushie from beside him so you can sit down.

"Thank you muffin." Felix had many nicknames for you, rose, pedal, and beautiful. But muffin was your favorite from the Australian. Just the way it rolled off his tongue when he said it made your stomach do flips. "How was going to the studio with Chris?" You hear him let out a snort, bringing his arm behind his head before answering you. "Good, annoying but Good. You know how he is though. He wants everything to be perfect for stays." And it was true. His leader worked day in and day out to make their fans happy. "How were classes?" Did Felix mention that you were a college student? It was your senior year, graduating next spring to become a journalist. You even interviewed him a few times for a project or two. Maybe that's why he loved you?

"Good." You sigh and lean back against his chest. "Don't think I passed my final exam though. I'm sorry but math just isn't for me." Felix lets out a deep laugh that you hear from the middle of his chest. "Well we know that- ow!" Felix yells as you hit him in his chest. Felix and you have been friends for about two years. Meeting you online under his private account on Instagram. You had posted a funny meme about him that he had to like it. Which made him also curious about what else you did.

Looking through your pictures randomly at night he noticed you loved photography, you loved taking pictures of just about anything. From you walk to the river near the trees. He also found out that you weren't from Korea, in fact, you lived in New York your whole life and moved to Korea for school. But what shocked him the most was that you loved his music. Most if not all of the posts you did post were either music from him or another artist you seemed to enjoy.

So Felix had to meet you, but he couldn't be so straightforward though. So he texted you, trying to get to know you, and then before he knew it he was outside your dorm room getting to meet you for the first time. And you were beautiful, the most gorgeous person he ever laid his eyes on, made his cheeks feel hot. That's when he knew he had to keep you in his life forever. Even if he couldn't tell you about his silly little crush that all his members knew about.

"Lix?" You called out to the Australian as he spun in his desk chair, popping a mini donut in his mouth. Felix lets out a hum, stopping his movement to look at you. "You're home for Christmas aren't you?" Ah yes, every Christmas Felix is never in Korea, he's either busy doing promotions or he's at home visiting family. But this year he's here which he kind of did on purpose but you'll never know that. "Yes, I am beautiful why?" Your cheeks start to feel hot at the pet name. After being around Felix for so long you could never get used to him calling you beautiful. If anyone was beautiful it was him. From his eyes to his nose Felix was beautiful in every shape. You loved how his freckles kissed his cheeks to his nose. You loved how his eyes were shaped like little chocolate almonds, and when the sun shined in his face he looked like a damn god.

"Do you want to go ice skating? Or come over to my house for Christmas? Unless you and the guys doing something?" Felix was quick to shake his head no. "That'll be great, I'm free. All the members won't be here this year so it can just be me and you." Them simple words made you feel all warm inside and you didn't like that.

Felix would hate to admit it but he hates it when you post pictures with other people, especially men he hasn't met before. He was in the studio scrolling on his phone when stops to see a picture you posted from two weeks ago. It was random really because you never mentioned going on a date. Not that you had to, but when it was something like this you'll never keep it a secret. And that made his blood boil. It wasn't like he should be mad, you two weren't together and yet he was angry, annoyed even. "Will you quit sulking and hand me my notebook," Christopher says when he looks over at his best friend. Felix rolls his eyes and turns his phone off before grabbing his friend's notebook and handing it to him.

"I wasn't sulking."

"Yeah, and I was the first one to walk on the moon." He mumbles, "No but really what's bothering you? It isn't y/n isn't it." But the face Felix makes gives him his answer. "Oh my god, it is. Lord, what happened this time?"

"A picture of her and a very handsome man is what happened. She never told me she went out on a date last week." Felix's lips form into a pout. "Why should she have told you? You aren't together Lix." A bitter taste formed in his mouth when it was said out loud. Felix knew that. He knew you two weren't together, he knew that you had every right to go out and date, because who wouldn't want to date you? Someone so beautiful, so funny, so- god you were everything and yet he didn't have the balls to make you his and only his.

"Because, well because." Because she's mind. That is what he wanted to say. "You're right why should she." It hurt to say really. "You still haven't told her have you?"

"No."

"Are you going to?"

"No."

"Yongbok." Felix lets out a whine when his government name is called. He hears Chris sigh before getting up from his desk chair to sit beside Felix on the couch. "I'm sorry I just, Chris it's hard. Everything about it is hard to do. What if she says no? What if she does say yes and then it doesn't work out? I can't lose her. My friendship with her means way more than this stupid crush that can pass." Deep down Felix didn't think he could handle losing you, deep down Felix knew he was so far deep in this crush that he felt like if he did say he liked you I'll send him in a spiral if you rejected him. "And it's okay to have these doubts lix, I mean the more you stress over it the more you end up not doing it. This isn't just some silly crush you can get over; if it was, it would have been gone. You love her dude. And I know because you look at her like she's some sort of angel that fell from heaven to you and if that angel leaves you too will be too heartbroken." Shit. Chris really knew how to make Felix want to be hit by a bus, a truck even. But he wasn't wrong. Maybe he did love you? I mean he wouldn't be surprised if he did.

You quite literally spend time with each other 24/7 out of the 7 days of the week. And when he can't spend time with you he'll get all moody because he can't see you. Yeah, he was way too far gone. So maybe when he goes over to your house he'll just tell you. The worst you can say is no. Right?

The night was great up to this point. It was the day before Christmas and you thought it would be a great idea to have a sleepover. Felix had just come over not too long ago, with his cute little pj pants. And everything was fine. You too sat and watched a Christmas movie, drinking hot chocolate. He even made cookies with you. But Felix should have known that this wonderful, night would turn so fast when you brought up the guy you had been going on dates with.

"I don't understand why you're upset about this Felix?" Yeah, Felix's mood completely changed the moment you brought up the guy, the sexy tall guy who he wanted to punch his beautiful face. Fuck. Why is he so beautiful? Why would you want to date anyone like him? Why not me? Is what Felix wanted to scream. But he couldn't. He just fucking couldn't. So he sat in front of you with the biggest frown on his face. "No reason." He mumbles. And I guess that answer set you off.

"Well it's something if you have an attitude about it."

"No? What attitude? Y/n I'm tired."

"See! Right there you just said my name, you never say my name." Felix wanted to die. He really did. Seeing you so angry, so hurt, and yet all Felix just sits there. "I-, look can we drop this please?" He begs. His whole face changed in a matter of minutes. You and Felix never fought. And when you did it never lasted long. But it felt like this argument would. Specially from the way your fist clutched, and the way he could see your body language change. You get up, bring your mug with you, and walk to the kitchen. "I'm sorry Princess," Felix speaks again, but you don't answer. "Are you though? Are you really? Because this isn't the first time Lix. You've done this multiple times, all in separate accounts."

"And it's not even like you care, shit. Can I not go out? I have sexual needs too Felix! Have I ever done that to you? All them times when you would leave me to go and fuck a bitch at your hotel room. But when I go out I'm wrong. Alright. Felix, I can't wait for you forever. I can't." Wait what. What does she mean by that? Felix blinks at you, he's not sure what you said if he heard right. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You like me?" That is all he could mumble out. "I- yes. Do you know how long I have been waiting for you to make a move? Since last summer." How was he supposed to know that? Okay, maybe he should of. "How was I supposed to know that y/n? You never said anything along those lines, and it wasn't like you showed me either."

"Yes, I did Felix." You throw your hands in the air as you walk back into the living room. As mad as you wanted to be at him maybe you didn't show him. Maybe the stubble touches, the wishing him good luck on tours, maybe the visiting him every summer wasn't a good enough sign either. So why did it hurt so bad to know he didn't notice?

"When?" He looks at you, before looking down at his hands. "Do you know how much I wished for you to notice me? And the girls I brought? I only said that so you could get jealous. I mean I'm guessing it worked. Y/n you don't know how much I truly do like you. How I'll do anything to make you happy, smile even. But I'm afraid. I'm afraid of losing you, especially at Christmas. A holiday you love so much." All you could do was smile, a very goofy smile. He might be an idiot, that you knew, but he was your idiot. You walk over to him, before sitting next to him. "Just kiss me, you big idiot."

"Huh-" before he can even react you bring your lips to his with full force. A grunt leaves his lips as you bring your hand to his cheek. His lips and yours move together, his hand resting on your hips as he pulls you closer. Felix's heart was beating out of his chest, he felt like he was on a cloud nine, a high he could never get off of. Your lips felt so soft against his, that and your sweet cherry chapstick that made him go crazy.

When you two pull away, no words are spoken, and he couldn't find his voice. "One thing is for sure, you're a good kisser." A laugh leaves his lips before he pulls you into another kiss, this time taking your breath away. "You too muffin, you too." He smiles when he pulls away from you, a giggle leaves your lips and you bring your finger to his lips wiping off your chapstick. "Does that mean we're together?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah?" Felix gives you a small smile. "Yeah. Merry Christmas baby."

"Merry Christmas Lix."

[leggerefiore]

Fuuucckkk I had this promot in my head right after Christmas... whatever I'll just send it now before I forget lol

Your S/O getting back from work and opening the bedroom door to you failing to wrap yourself in a present ribbon sexily and being in a tangled mess

cw: 18+ content, not explicit, comedy

characters: Ingo, Emmet, Cyrus, Lear, Grimsley, Nanu, Rika, Cyllene

It was supposed to be easy.

Really, you had followed the guide online and tried desperately to get the ribbon to dip in your curves and extenuate everything you wanted it to. Sexy had been the goal… A nice surprise to greet your beloved after work. Except… Well, it did not go that way. Not at all.

Your arm ended up stuck behind your back, while your other could not reach where you needed it to get out of the situation. Awkwardly, you laid out on the bed you planned to pose on, struggling to escape the trap you had got yourself in. Sexy, certainly you were not, flailing like a Magikarp on land. It was an odd form of torture.

It only grew worse when you heard the bedroom door open.

Your eyes went wide as…

▲Ingo▼

● It had been a bit earlier than he expected when the Subway Boss had been able to pull away from work. Heading home was a special treat for the holidays. He wanted to argue. Of course, when he got home, he had been a bit shocked by how quiet the apartment was. All the lights were off, and there was no sound of his partner making any sound. Concern entered his mind, but he opted to check the bedroom first before getting stressed out. Naps could happen at any time, after all. He found himself opening the door with careful regard on possibly not disturbing them. However, the sight that greeted him was far more mind-boggling.

● Candles were lit in the bedroom as he saw you “wrapped” up on the bed, frozen in your spot. The sight of you scantily clad would have normally made him more flustered, but he felt far more concerned by how your arm was stuck behind you. He rushed to your side to help undo the knot while asking what had transpired to cause this circumstance. You remained silent, clearly flustered by being spotted in your struggle. In the end, the mood was ruined. Ingo was far too concerned, and you were exhausted from your struggle. An evening of cuddling on the couch was had instead.

△Emmet▽

○ The younger twin had managed to get off earlier than usual, having sped around to finish up all his duties as quickly as he could. He had the full intention of going home and seeing his darling. Oh, he had been so busy! Verrrry busy. Emmet felt so exhausted from the tireless work of the holidays and excited by the prospect of getting some time alone with his partner. He crept into the home, wishing to surprised them. However, he was caught off-guard by the darkness. Tilting his head, he walled through the apartment. Were they napping? He opened the door of the bedroom and peered inside. The sight made him freeze.

○ You were laid out on the bed, tied up uncomfortably in an attempt at lingerie. His cheeks puffed out as he began to laugh at the sight. Your expression was pure mortification. The seduction attempt had failed hard, it seemed. He walked towards you, clearly coming to free you from the binding fabric. Well, that was what you thought. His eyes were dark as he pinned you down. “Mmm… I can tie you far better, darling,” the smile on his lips was simply too mischievous. Your arm was freed, but your wrists were caught instead by him. It seemed the lingerie still had been effective. Task… failed successfully?

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ The Galactic Boss had the full intention of working as late as he could, but his staff simply seemed intent on getting off. It was annoying. He had not picked workers like this. Even his commanders wanted off to do whatever people did this time of year. Dates, from his understanding. He grumbled as he walked in the snowy weather towards his apartment. Whatever, he would demand overtime in exchange for this. He found himself at his front door before he knew it, stepping inside to a dark home. Tensing up for a moment, he wondered if something had happened. It was not that late. Heading to the bedroom, he opened the door to go change into lounge clothes. Instead, he was greeted by a sight.

☄️ You were frozen in place on the bed with a mess of fabric wrapping your body. Your arm was stuck behind your back. A sigh left Cyrus. What in the world was this supposed to be? You barely had time to react as he walked past you with the intent of changing still on his mind. This was disrupted by you calling out to him. He turned around and glanced at you. A simple tug at a knot had you freed from your fabric prison. “… I'm unsure what you were attempting with this,” he murmured before finally getting out of his work clothes. You caught him before he could redress himself, not wanting to give up. A sigh left him. It seemed that you were demanding more of his attention. … Well, he did have some frustrations to work out, he supposed.

👑Lear💎

🪙 The prince finally broke away from his duties with the full intention of retreating into his quarters and not being bothered until the following day. Truly, events had been happening left and right and requiring his oversight and attention. A break was something he felt immensely desperate for. He found himself walking through his quarters while lost in thought. It had been a moment since he had alone time with his partner. A certain restlessness blossomed in his chest as his feet carried him faster to his bedroom. He only stopped when it came into view.

🪙 You sprawled out on his bed would be a welcome sight if you had not looked so strange. He had to take off his sunglasses to make sure the sight before him was not some strange illusion. You looked as if you were bound on his bed by colourful fabric. He stepped toward you as you clearly attempted to pretend you were not there. “… I'm not…” He found himself tugging you free of bindings of fabric, unintentionally leaving you completely bare to him, “D-did Hoopa do this!?” His reply made you burst out laughing from the absurdity of the thought. Hoopa… doing that. Somehow. He then got frustrated as you laughed at his assertion. There was no fun that night.

♠️Grimsley❤️

♤ The Gambler decided against more than a quick game of roulette. It was the holidays, after all. He barely had any money after getting gifts… Of course, lady luck had been kind to him, and a big payout had come from his single game. Bring mindful for once in his life, he decided to play it safe and take his winnings home with him. Besides… He had a strange urge to spend the night with his partner rather than in the arms of his biggest vice. So, he entered the apartment and called out to you. It was dark, however. He blinked. Asleep already? He doubted that. Entering your bedroom, he peered inside. The sight greeting him made him chuckle.

♡ You were sprawled out on the bed in a bad attempt at present lingerie. He bad been there and done that… Not a good time. The embarrassment from being caught like that was plain to see from your body language. Grimsley easily untied you from your binding. Before you could go to attempt to explain it, he pressed his lips against your own. Icy eyes pierced your very being as he instead used the fabric to tie up your wrists in a lovely bow. “Oh, man, what a gift,” he teased, “… Of course, you don't mind if I indulge myself, do you?” It seemed you were in for a long night as he threw himself into his second-biggest vice.

🐈‍⬛️Nanu❤️‍🩹

🌑 The Kahuna had been wandering Ula'Ula vacantly due to the increased tourist presence on the island. It always seemed to make the Tapu restless… Annoying as that was. He wondered if he should really spend his time intervening or just like the guardian deity act like he had for the store built on sacred grounds. It was mostly pointless, he felt. So, he found himself trailing back to Route 17, ready to turn in for the day. Nothing was happening. So, he opened the door to the station. He blinked at the sight greeting him.

🌑 You were on the floor, struggling to escape some kind of fabric wrapped around your body. The Meowths had gathered around you and watched on in various emotions. He stepped over and easily untied you from the mess you had seemingly gotten yourself into. You were now lying naked on his floor. “… I'm not even going to ask,” he deadpanned and moved to crash on the couch. You were clearly displeased with this response and followed after him. This resulted in him being pinned against the couch. It seemed you were not asking. Nanu just accepted his fate.

👔Rika🌶

🟤 Geeta could be a bit too demanding, Rika found. She was not the sort to usually complain, but she really wanted some time off. Work mode got tiding after a while, and all she wanted was to go home and crash. The holidays should not have been crunch time, but it always felt that way with the number of challengers jumping after getting their first pokemon. She rubbed her eyes as she finally found herself heading to her apartment. The door swung open to reveal a dark, quiet scene. Shaking her head, she turned her sights to the bedroom. Really… She was about to crash, too. A nap with her partner sounded wonderful. Yet… She stopped after opening the door. The sight on the other side made her blink a few times and reached to pull out her glasses.

🟤 You were bound on the bed in a clearly uncomfortable position with glittery fabric. She trailed over to the bed, red eyes, inquisitive and confused. “… I…” Perhaps it was the sheer tiredness from work, but she burst out laughing after attempting to speak. You looked at her with a far too huffy expression, making it worse. Eventually, she broke out of it enough to untie you from your ribbon prison. You crossed your arms over your bare chest as she attempted to grasp your shoulders. “Babe, I'm sorry,” she said between laughs, “Look, you have to admit it was funny.” You would later on. The mood, however, was very much destroyed.

🌙Cyllene🌌

🌕 The Survey Corps Captain felt as if her endless amount of work would suffocate her one day. Yet, she also found herself unwilling to pull away from it until she absolutely had to. Laventon had been expressing his concern far too frequently and made her simply stop for the evening. According to him, it was actually some holidays back in his home country, and seeing her work as usual was killing him. So, she took off early and headed to her home, watching as snow began to dust the village. Sliding open the door to her home, she took off her sandals and perked up her head to see… An odd sight.

🌕 You laid out on her futon, wrapped in strange fabric. Her hands were on her hips as you writhed and tried to escape the binding of them. How had this happened… She felt a headache forming just attempting to think this through. It was no doubt self-inflicted, at least. You seemed flustered as she came forward and pulled out a short sword she always kept on her person. The blade cut through the fabric and freed you from its hold. “… I'm only going to ponder what your goal is,” she remarked, not wanting an actual answer. This made you whine and reach out to embrace her. She was in no way seduced nor entertained.

[elodieunderglass]

Do you have more Moby Dick: Modern Translation chapters anywhere that certain interested parties (me and everyone with taste) could read?

In reference to this translation of Moby Dick into insufferable modern idiom, in which Ishmael is suddenly shown up in a startling light as a person we’ve actually met and knew well but didn’t really like:

I’m sorry, I haven’t written any more of that! After chapter 1’s mad rush of energy, the book tackles more tricky, boring and unfunny content, including passages that are just uncomfortably problematic in any time; and, like, entire chapters about listening to a church sermon.

A line translation (and that is mostly a very faithful line translation! The only thing I regret not doing was perfectly capturing the fart joke!) apparently has a lot of educational value, and helps to reframe the whole novel. That’s worthy work! But i simply wouldn’t want to do a line translation on the next few chapters. My brain is picking daisies instead, already. I would say: “sorry, I’m abridging this for my own mental health. You’re eligible for a free refund.” In which case the educational value is negligible (you can just read the plot summary online. There’s a really big whale in it.)

Anyone else who wants to take a stab at it (FROM HELL’S HEART) would be welcome and I’ll gladly promote your efforts. It’s just. I am going

🌼-🌼-🌼-🌼-🌼-🌼-🌼

- come here let me measure your head

[binsito]

service

pairing: kim seungmin x fem reader

synopsis: busy seungmin hires a cleaning lady to spiff up his home only to accidentally hire a topless maid ♡

word count: 2.5k

rating: mature, includes: unprotected sex, swearing, oral sex (f & m receiving), usage of the word "mister" in a sexual setting, "good girl" is used once, slight body cumshot, slight power play ??

note - seungmin as a business man is very sexy to me.. i hope i articulated this story well bc imagining it in my brain was very 😵‍💫

seungmin was a very busy man.

his career often had him working long, stressful hours. his success came with the sacrifice of his social life and maybe a couple of metaphorical gray hairs due to the constant goals he needed to reach for his company.

he was proud of his work, no matter how tedious his job may be. sure, he barely had time to himself but his mother had always advised him to become a hardworking, professional man and of course he listened. at such a young age, he found himself quickly getting promoted and making enough to live comfortably, he couldn’t complain. 

he normally came home late, toeing his shoes off at the front door and sighing as he made his way to his room. tugging at his tie to fall back into his bed. his house virtually looked unlived in. it was a lovely place, marble flooring with high ceilings but the only purpose it served him was to sleep and get ready for work the next day, an unbreakable cycle. he knew he needed to take better care of his home, at least dust it off here and there, but with what time? he could barely use the bathroom for five seconds before work emails would pour in. he figured it was about time he found someone to tend to the house for him, do his laundry, maybe have some meals prepared for him. he had the means to pay for such a service so why not? having a cleaning lady wouldn’t be such a bad idea?

he needed someone fast so he scrolled online for services while he unwinded in bed. the quicker someone could show up to fix his house up, the better. 

he ended up finding an ad that piqued his interest, clicking on it to get more information. the rate they were charging was a bit high but he assumed it was probably because they included more in their cleaning packages. “fuck it.” he sighed out as he booked the soonest available date, at least his house wouldn’t keep suffering from his negligence. __ the next morning, he was getting ready for work as he got a confirmation text message. “morning, mister kim. i’ll be arriving at 10:30, we’ll keep in touch” you had messaged. he was pleased at how quickly his appointment got approved and he finished up so he could greet you when you arrived.

eventually his doorbell rang and he walked over to open it, smiling at you as he moved aside to let you in. 

“hello, mister kim” you smiled as you introduced yourself. you held your hand out for him to shake. he returned the smile and shook your hand firmly, he seemed like a gentleman and his house was lovely. 

he explained everything around the house in great detail and gave you a small tour. it was a beautiful house, very modern and sleek although you could tell he barely lived in it, it lacked the warmth of a typical well loved home. “feel free to make yourself comfortable.. i left a list on the kitchen counter of things i need you to do. thank you for coming so punctually, shoot me a text whenever.” and with that, he was gone. grabbing his briefcase as he hurried out the door to start his day. you looked over the list: sweep and mop, change his bedsheets, iron his suits and dust off his bookshelves. cute, you thought as you noticed he signed his name on the bottom right corner in elegant cursive along with the date.

you started going around the house, working diligently, humming as you carefully dusted off his bookshelves. he seemed interesting, lots of books about philosophy and music. it seemed he was well versed in piano, having lots of classical sheet music scattered about. 

your mind began to wonder.. he was handsome, was he single? he had to be seeing someone right? engaged at the very least? but the more you looked around, the more you noticed the absence of a womanly presence in his home. just one toothbrush, one towel, no makeup lingering around, no forgotten panties or heels, nothing.

you weren’t one to jump to conclusions but normally one’s bedroom held a lot of information about someone.

is that why he requested your services? you wondered..

nothing wrong with hiring a topless maid to clean your house, it was always fun for both parties. he’d be satisfied with a cute little maid doing house chores and you’d be enjoying the attention and compensation. besides, he was pretty attractive and you couldn’t wait for him to get back home that evening to see what would ensue from him seeing you with your tits out for him.

but the problem was.. seungmin had no fucking idea he had requested services from a topless maid. he was tired, half asleep and just really needed his house to be cleaned. maybe he should’ve checked thoroughly, maybe he should’ve read between the lines when the site stated that they offered “special services”.

stupid, stupid mistake. so when he comes home and unlocks the door, the last thing he expected was to see you semi nude.

his jaw almost hit the damn floor, eyes widening while you acted so nonchalant. you glanced over at him with a soft smile, washing some dishes while your pretty tits were on display for him, buds hardening from the cold air in his house. “welcome back home, mister kim” you smiled coyly “h-hi um..” his brain was short circuiting, he didn’t even know what to say or do (he would be lying if he said he wasn’t incredibly turned on to be greeted in such a way). “excuse me.. im going to set my things down in my office” he said, trying not to look down at your exposed chest as he tried to also hide his painful erection. he quickly walked off and checked the website again once he was alone in his office, laughing at how dumb his mistake was. if he had read carefully he would've noticed the implications of the website. “dammit seungmin.. you are quite the idiot..” he said to himself with a chuckle. however, it was a pleasant surprise even if it was unintentional on his part. he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a nice pair of tits. this was making him realize how badly he needed to take a vacation from work and go have some fun. maybe the lack of a relationship and intimacy was making him dizzy because he couldn’t help but think this was the best thing that could’ve ever happened to him.

so he let out a sigh and straightened himself out before walking back out. you had since finished the dishes and were leisurely wiping down his countertop. “everything alright, mister kim?” you asked as you leaned over the counter, head leaning against one of your hands he nodded his head and sat at one of the bar stools “no.. everything’s fine. were you alright while i was gone?”

“mhm.. but i was excited for you to get back.. wanted you to compliment me on my job well done. did i do good mister kim? the house looks nice and tidy doesn’t it?” you giggled softly “oh yes.. looks a lot better thank you. you did a perfect job, good girl” “ah.. would you like me to take your shoes off for you? i mopped and i don’t want you to mess up my hard work..” you pouted. before he could answer, you had made yourself over to him, getting on your knees beneath him and pulling off his shoes. you could feel his gaze on you, he was a little tense and you found it absolutely amusing. you knew he was trying hard to act calm but you could see right through his demeanor. “oh mister kim.. you’re so hardworking.. i can tell.. poor thing. all work and no play..” you cooed. “want me to help with that? i know you want to touch.. just tell me mister kim..” you stated blatantly, no need to beat the bush when you could tell from the tightness of his pants that he was turned on. “a-are you sure?..” his voice was weak, he thought he sounded absolutely pathetic. “oh yes mister kim.. i’m at your service remember? i wanna play too you know? i think i deserve it for doing such a good job.. been waiting for you to get home to me allll day.. i worked extra hard for my reward..” you looked up at him through your eyelashes with a devilish smile. having sex with a client was never off the table for you, especially if you found them hot. if the situation arose and you were both down, you took the opportunity. you liked being taken care of after making their house look spotless. and lucky for seungmin, if he wanted to go further than just a little topless cleaning, you were more than willing to indulge him, he was just your type. seungmin couldn’t even recall the last time he had sex.. he had been so swamped with work that he had since forgotten about such a thing. he was normally so uptight and frustrated with work, the occasional jerking off on the weekend wasn’t even doing it for him anymore. he shyly leaned forward and cupped one of your breasts, giving it a firm squeeze before pinching the bud, his big hands were able to cup a decent handful and he was pleased at how warm they felt in his hand. “how can i help you mister kim?.. oh please tell me.. i’m dying to get to work..” his hands were basically trembling at the sound of your sultry voice. he could barely form a sentence, face flushed with his mouth slightly agape. this was absolutely preposterous but he was brimming with lust and want. he nervously started to undo his belt, pushing his bangs back a bit to get a better look at what he was doing.

there was nothing sexier than a man in a suit, freshly off work, a bit disheveled and tired from the work load but ready to to pull his cock out.

once his cock was visible to you, you bit your lip in anticipation. he was long, his cock leaking and an angry red, you were sure you could take care of his problem very well.

the length was making your mouth water, the idea of him being able to reach so deep inside of you making your thighs press together. “oh mister kim.. your cock looks delicious.. may i have some?” 

mouth open and willing to take him, you were so ready to taste him, hear the noises he would make. normally the shy ones were the loudest ones in your experience and you were excited to see him let go.

“go ahead.. make yourself right at home..” he says, cock twitching as he watched you inch towards his head, sucking on the tip and smiling against it “so fucking yummy..” you whispered before taking more of him, closing your eyes when his cock hit the back of your throat.

you had to use a hand to stroke the bit that didn’t quite fit, gagging on his cock as you coated him in spit. drool trickling down his shaft and collecting on his balls as you reached down to give him a tight squeeze.

“s-shit.. i-i’ll cum if you do that..” he whined, eyes glued on everything you were doing to him.

and that only encouraged you to do it again, feeling his thighs clench as a grunt left his throat, pulling off just before he reached his high and giggling at him as he protested.

“don’t you wanna be inside instead?” you got up from your knees, bending yourself over the counter.

his eyes traced over the swell of your ass that was peeking from under the useless skirt. you were wearing a flimsy thong that would surely rip if he tugged on it just a little bit

“c’mon mister kim.. please.. i want your cock inside me..” canting your hips at him to entice him further but he was already planning on shoving his dick inside you.

he stood up behind you, lifting your skirt further to finally reveal your ass, thong irritatingly in the way so he picked it aside as he rubbed his cock against you. he thought he was dreaming, maybe the lack of sleep was getting to him because there was no way in hell this was happening, not when it felt this good.

he gripped your hips tightly with one hand as his guided his cock to your hole, it was so tight, sucking his tip right in as he bit his lip in restraint. you opened your legs further for him as he pressed another inch in.

“fuckk mister kim.. can you feel how wet i am? my pussy is dripping..” and he definitely could feel it. he could also feel how you purposely clenched around him, how soft your walls were, how inviting and warm your hole was. he couldn’t wait to have you full stretched along his cock.

once he bottomed out, he gripped your hair, pulling you into an arch as he fucked into you, tits bouncing with every sharp snap of his hips

his bangs hanging over his eyes, sticking to his forehead as he muttered incoherent curses.

“s-shit! you’re taking my cock so well..” he groaned, losing himself in the feeling of you

he didn’t know how long he would last, his balls tightening with every thrust. he was soon to be a goner, it just felt so fucking unreal, all this pent up stress about to blow deeply inside your pussy. you moved against him, meeting his thrusts as you reached down to touch your clit, the ridges of his cock pushing against you so perfectly you thought your knees would give out.

“i-i’m gonna cum oh my god.. s-shit shit!” 

one final pump and he was cumming, quickly pulling out to spill over your asscheeks. he was out of breath yet still rock hard.

you got on top of the counter on all fours invitingly, which seungmin gladly accepted the offer. spreading you open as he buried his face deep in your cunt, lapping hungrily as you moaned. wet noises filling his normally quiet home. 

his tongue didn't leave a single crevice untouched, flattening and sucking harshly as your toes curled from the pleasure. he pressed his tongue in while his fingers came up to rub your clit. his nimble fingers coaxing an orgasm from you, one that made a mantra of "mister kim's" spill from your lips.

your essence all over his face as he licked his lips, sighing in ecstasy, giving you a light slap on the ass as he pulled your skirt back down

both of you in a haze yet still craving more. you knew this definitely wasn't going to be the last time seungmin would request services from you.

which was absolutely right.

seungmin quickly booked you again for the following week after you had left, same day and time. you were bubbling with anticipation for the next time you’d come over.

you fucking loved your job.

please refrain from reposting, modifying, translating, copying or stealing my work. - © binsito

[tangibletechnomancy]

Neural Nets, Walled Gardens, and Positive Vibes Only

the crystal spire at the center of the techno-utopian walled garden

Anyone who knows or even just follows me knows that as much as I love neural nets, I'm far from being a fan of AI as a corporate fad. Despite this, I am willing to use big-name fad-chasing tools...sometimes, particularly on a free basis. My reasons for this are twofold:

Many people don't realize this, but these tools are more expensive for the companies to operate than they earn from increased interest in the technology. Using many of these free tools can, in fact, be the opposite of "support" at this time. Corporate AI is dying, use it to kill it faster!

You can't give a full, educated critique of something's flaws and failings without engaging with it yourself, and I fully intend to rip Dall-E 3, or more accurately the companies behind it, a whole new asshole - so I want it to be a fair, nuanced, and most importantly personally informed new asshole.

Now, much has already been said about the biases inherent to current AI models. This isn't a problem exclusive to closed-source corporate models; any model is only as good as its dataset, and it turns out that people across the whole wide internet are...pretty biased. Most major models right now, trained primarily on the English-language internet, present a very western point of view - treating young conventionally attractive white people as a default at best, and presenting blatantly misinformative stereotypes at worst. While awareness of the issue can turn it into a valuable tool to study those biases and how they intertwine, the marketing and hype around AI combined with the popular idea that computers can't possibly be biased tends to make it so they're likely to perpetuate them instead.

This problem only gets magnified when introduced to my mortal enemy-

If I never see this FUCKING dog again it will be too soon-

Content filters.

Theoretically, content filters exist to prevent some of the worst-faith uses of AI - deepfakes, true plagiarism and forgery, sexual exploitation, and more. In practice, many of them block anything that can be remotely construed as potentially sexual, violent, or even negative in any way. Frequently banned subjects include artistic nudity or even partial nudity, fight scenes, anything even remotely adjacent to horror, and still more.

The problems with this expand fractally.

While the belief that AI is capable of supplanting all other art forms, let alone should do so, is...far less widespread among its users than the more reactionary subset of its critics seem to believe (and in fact arguably less common among AI users than non-users in the first place; see again: you cannot give a full, educated critique of something's failings without engaging with it yourself), it's not nonexistent - and the business majors who have rarely if ever engaged with other forms of art, who make up a good percentage of the executives of these companies, often do fall on that side, or at least claim to in order to make more sales (but let's keep the lid on that can of worms for now).

When this ties to existing online censorship issues, such as a billionaire manchild taking over Twitter to "help humanity" (read: boost US far-right voices and promote and/or redefine hate speech), or arcane algorithms on TikTok determining what to boost and deboost leading to proliferation of neologisms to soften and obfuscate "sensitive" subjects (of which "unalive" is frequently considered emblematic), including such horrible, traumatizing things as...the existence of fat people, disabled people, and queer people (where the censorship is claimed to be for their benefit, no less!), the potential impact is apparent: while the end goal is impossible, in part because AI is not, in fact, capable of supplanting all other forms of art, what we're seeing is yet another part of a continuing, ever more aggressive push for sanitizing what kinds of ideas people can express at all, with the law looking to only make it worse rather than better through bills such as KOSA (which you can sign a petition against here).

And just like the other forms of censorship before and alongside it, AI content filtering targets the most vulnerable in society far more readily than it targets those looking to harm them. The filters have no idea what makes something an expression of a marginalized identity vs. what makes it a derogatory statement against that group, or an attempt at creating superficially safe-for-work fetish art - so, they frequently err on the side of removing anything uncertain. Boys in skirts and dresses are frequently blocked, presumably because they're taken for fetish art. Results of prompts about sadness or loneliness are frequently blocked, presumably because they may promote self harm, somehow. In my (admittedly limited) experiment, attempts at generating dark-skinned characters were blocked more frequently than attempts at generating light-skinned ones, presumably because the filter decided that it was racist to [checks notes] ...acknowledge that a character has a different skin tone than the default white characters it wanted to give me. Facial and limb differences are often either erased from results, or blocked presumably on suspicion of "violent content".

But note that I say "presumably" - the error message doesn't say on what grounds the detected images are "unsafe". Users are left only to speculate on what grounds we're being warned.

But what makes censorship of AI generated work even more alarming, in the context of the executive belief that it can render all other art forms obsolete, is that other forms of censorship only target where a person can say such earth-shaking, controversial things as "I am disabled and I like existing" or "I am happy being queer" or "mental health is important" or "I survived a violent crime" - you can be prevented from posting it on TikTok, but not from saying it to a friend next to you, let alone your therapist. AI content filtering, on the other hand, aims to prevent you from expressing it at all.

This becomes particularly alarming when you recall one of the most valuable use cases for AI generation: enabling disabled people to express themselves more clearly, or in new forms. Most people can find other workarounds in the form of more conventional, manual modes of expression, sure, but no amount of desperation can reverse hand paralysis that prevents a person from holding a pen, nor a traumatic brain injury or mental disability that blocks them from speaking or writing in a way that's easy to understand. And who is one of the most frequently censored groups? Disabled people.

So, my question to Bing and OpenAI is this: in what FUCKING universe is banning me from expressing my very existence "protecting" me?

Bad dog! Stop breaking my shit and get the FUCK out of my way!

Generated as a gift for a friend who was even more frustrated with that FUCKING dog than I was

All images - except the FUCKING dog - generated with Dall-E 3 via Bing Image Creator, under the Code of Ethics of Are We Art Yet?

[nadianova]

how much $ did u get from sales from malmaid & other VNs on itch/steam? i wanna upload my VNs on itch/steam but 1. idk how much i wanna price it (like... yeah its free but for the pwyw slot for itch) & 2. (for steam) idk if the 100$ steam price for Uploading is worth it/if ppl will like/buy it (am insecure/nervy #girl :'3) .. i luvv ur work n i love seeing ur works it Makes me v happy thank you!!!!

disclaimer everything here is my opinion and perspective from me in this current moment of my life so just take everything with a grain of salt and preferably look for others perspectives to compare to. ultimately its something everyone kinda have to figure out on their own and do what works for them..

but that being said theresa lot of things to say here so ill just start with like... every dev i see says that if you're gonna sell your game put it on steam. i keep hearing numbers throw around like 90% of sells come from steam and 10% from itch io for devs that sell (commercial projects) on both. you still need following etc to promote the wishlists since that is what boosts your game after the initial release on steam or something like that?

if you have a free game put it on itch io. its free just do it might as well. being shy and insecure about what you make is fine but keep in mind that people arent after some perfect flawless projects and making those is impossible

just make what you can and share it, the right people just need to find them

still itchio is nice that its free but the userbase is also 50% people on their mobile searching for strictly free android games to jerk off or horror game with red background because popular streamer #453425 played it. the site culture is different from steamw which some people treat as if games don't count as real unless they're on steam.

from my perspective paying $100 to put a game on steam is 'cheap'. even if you just consider it an ad fee for however much traffic steam algorithm blesses you with, its kind of a good deal if you think about the unhinged amounts you'd have to pay on twitter or facebook or whatever the hell people use to actually promote the game to same amount of eyes.. if you're doing free games its less of a incentive but if you're trying to do business and make money for rent 100(and whatever fees steam and taxes will eat from your earnings) is a very low price of doing business. i see people complain about steam cuts and steam fees but as someone who used to be an online sexworker there was literally popular sites AND STILL ARE that take like 50% cut directly so steam isn't bad when compared to that (also steam gives you the 100 back after you make 1000, which i reasonable believe i could reach if i put a paid game on steam)

also did you know you can set itch ios marketplace cut to 0% if you want with no repercussions. you can do that if you want. do it.

i think if you have rent to pay you should get into the habit of asking for something. artists love supporting other artists and outside of that the people who have money will gladly support someone whose work they like. there's really no concrete numbers to give for pricing projects. just ask anything. tho know that asking for 1 dollar is pretty much the same as asking for like 5 tho. if people are ready to pay they generally don't care if its in that range so i think everyone's happy if its 5 when payment processors get to swipe a smaller percentage of the fees from the transaction

maybe something like just ask for something nad once you make more projects keep rising it. its better to have an empty patreon with 0 subscribers than no patreon at all. my games used to be 0€ to download and 6.66€ pay what you want and people kept paying that. then i raised the suggestion to 15€ just to try it out and i was surprised to see the amount of donations didn't go down. bonus artbooks are a good incentive. its nice to share something special for those who want to donate and its nice for them to get something out of it since a huge portion of these people might have just given that same donation money expecting nothin in return

its taken a few months but malmaid has now made like 800 dollars on itch io which is like wow holy shit but it kinda stops being as exciting when i think about how it took me 6 months to make it and that would be like one month of rent. still ultimately the fact that its a free game and everyone just decided to donate anyway is kinda absurd and it makes me infinitely grateful

i do know that if i had priced it with a set price the amount would be a lot more (this is even more evident from my 4€ comic projects that i keep putting on sale constantly for even cheaper are still by far the most earning projects I've ever put on itchio) id argue people are more likely to take a project seriously and engage with it if it cost money. free games you can just dl and forget about it if you want.. but having a price next to the download button makes things seem more legitimate because money has worth

i also get pay-per-project patreon money. tho patreon hates that mode and will be deleting in like a year or so instead of having stupid monthly payments. idk what ill do then i might delete patreon at that point will see

but on the matter of if these numbers really are a useful metric to share is debatable. hopeless junction made like $1000(ignoring the vncup 2 award) since i released it year ago and this and malmaid are two of my most popular games like that. i think i made 300-400 during the first few release months back then. I've been posting stuff on itch io for FREE for a decade soon and its an accumulation of all my visibility from over the years. itch io also favorites nsfw games with their tag traffic so its an environment that works for me

if i had started asking for money and packaging my things in a more commercial form i would be making a lot more with it i think and the people who followed me would already be accustomed to that. its just that for now ive valued people being able to play my things for free and my situation has allowed for it

everyone hates marketing but ultimately its about making the thing you made look good and be seen by others. a nice custom theme on an itch io page is more likely to get someone to stay than a game with blank profile no screenshots.

its important to make the thing you made look presentable and that's just finding your own voice by looking at how others do these things

the coolest story in the world isnt gonna sell if it doesn't have a nice cover if nobody knows that story exists.. but if people like the story they're more likely to stick around for future stuff and spread the word.. i think that matters more than what amount of money is being asked for a game as there are popular cheap games just as there are popular expensive games

idk. if theres more specific questsions ask again its a very broad thing

[therealhousewifeofharrystyles]

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

[austinslounge]

Nevermind that all of these other people shade Austin all the time. We don’t have to stick up for everyone. And I mentioned the price tag of Timmy’s clothes on his downtime because I have seen him wear multiple times a mix of extremely expensive designers just for walking around. I literally also said no shade to Timmy. I’m just glad Austin has a good head on his shoulders. I have one example of why I like Austin. But I guess the only thing that’s allowed in this fandom is to insult Austin. There is no other fandom that goes around telling everyone e “hey we don’t need to be harassing Austin like we do.” No they all welcome it. It has not worked in our favor to overly compliment everyone else.

Another thing. I don’t give a shit about anyone else in Hollywood. They are mainly bad people. I don’t feel bad about insulting any of them.

Ummm -- Why are you getting so upset? 👀 I feel like I responded back to you in a respectful way. Am I missing something here?

Just because I didn't share your opinion about Timothée and his clothes?

Who cares what Timothée is wearing?? 🥴 I personally don't. How does that affect Austin?

If someone wants to wear designer items in their downtime then that's fine? If someone wants to wear clothes from the thrift store, that's also fine!

I really don't care what brands people choose to wear on their own bodies or how much their clothes cost. I'm not going to judge. It's a free country. You can wear whatever you want imo. Perhaps if you had mentioned something troublesome about Timothée's character, then maybe my response would have been different.

Also, just because I'm not joining in the Timothée shade (which is unnecessary btw because Austin is awesome regardless), it doesn't mean that I want people insulting or throwing shade on Austin either. 🙄 Maybe you didn't read my Mod Announcement from earlier today, but I do not tolerate people insulting Austin on my blog.

At the same time, that doesn't mean that I need to throw shade at other actors who are just minding their business either.

I've seen many blogs on Tumblr turn into little cesspools of constant negativity, and I don't care to run my blog that way.

Who cares what Timothée's fans say? What does that have to do with Austin and what we as his fans say and do? 🥴 If Timothée's fans want to be immature and hateful little jerks, then let them! WE are fans of Austin. Austin and Timothée actually seem really close, and Austin has spoken nothing but wonderful things about Timothée, and kind of views him as a brother. Timothée as well has spoken very highly of Austin.

See, this is why these fandom wars are so stupid. 🙄 "They insult our favorite actor, so we're going to insult theirs". Do you hear how silly that sounds? These actors are buddies and consider each other as peers.

Ignore those immature weirdos online, please.

Another thing. I don’t give a shit about anyone else in Hollywood. They are mainly bad people. I don’t feel bad about insulting any of them.

Okay, well, that's your choice! You don't have to like anyone other than Austin in Hollywood.

For me on the other hand, there are many actors that I appreciate in Hollywood.

I hope that's okay with you? 😵‍💫

[rats4brainzzz]

Hellooo!!! Step Right Into My Little Corner Of The Internet!

My Name Is Ollie And Welcome to the weirdo zone!!! I love to draw, Create, And Be Cringe On Here!!

I Use He/Him Pronouns STRICTLY and Am a Questioning Aroace Spectrum Dude.

If you find brainrot unbelievably annoying and stuff, LEAVE NOW. I don’t use it all the time but I find it funny bc I’m a immature dude.

This is a safe place!! Be unapologetically you!!! Judgement free zone!! :3

STRAWPAGE!!! ( Mostly has the same stuff that’s on this post, but feel free to send in stuff!! )

@ratmanzzart <<<< Art Sideblog

@the-ratzz-are-talking <<<< Yapping/Spam Sideblog

I can be a slow poster sometimes!! Please be patient with me for I have a lot of trouble with anxiety and need a break every once in a while!!

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[tinogiehd]

I get your point and Dream has reacted in very stupid ways before that were seriously eye-roll inducing even as a fan, but I don’t think he’s ever or would ever immediately and publicly cut off a friend without privately reaching out first. She added so much fuel to an already out of control fire, against a guy she called her brother. I think they’re wildly different situations and I think we need to stop trying to play the misogyny card when people are criticising women. It’s how we’ve got braindead twitter kids thinking women can do no wrong now.

I don’t think Hannah has to apologise or that she’s some terrible person or that it’s any of our business if she wants to be friends with them again or not. But to act like any criticism of how she publicly handled it on her platform is wrong because she’s a woman is kind of crazy. And I usually support your takes.

we can stop pulling the misogyny card when people stop being misogynistic about her. like it’s not misogyny to criticize her I think her reaction was abhorrent I think she could have done so much better but to be harping on it weeks and weeks down the line as some indicator of moral compass and acting as if she owes us an apology is strange as hell. like she should have done something differently for sure and you don’t need to pretend like she had a perfect response because she’s a woman, her being a woman doesn’t mean her response wasn’t shitty. but I just don’t think you can separate the response to her response Weeks down the line from her being a woman in an industry where woman have historically caught more heat for breathing than 99% of men will for legitimately heinous crimes and that mindset being consciously or unconsciously absorbed by audiences even adjacent to it, like the social contexts of an entertainer will project onto the audience and that’s just how it works and I’ve seen in the three years I’ve been here how women are cracked down on way harder than men are. misogyny is baked into this community because that’s how people are socialized in the real life and the online space. I’m not saying women are free from criticism but I am saying that I think some people would benefit from thinking Hey why am I so angry at her and so ready to rant and rave about this weeks and weeks later? half of what im seeing on my dash rn isn’t even criticism of her conduct also it’s literally invisible demons about her not having a leash on the maybe 50 dedicated hannah stans on twitter despite her being pretty offline and saying she’s promoting terf rhetoric ? Like what are you people even talking about at this point. I’m not saying disliking her response is misogynistic but I’m saying the heat she’s still catching for it is driven by closet misogyny like just move the fuck on

[simslegacy5083]

Today's (10/29/2024) Episode: Wholesome Morning Fun

Luigi and Noemi had successfully launched Watcher Tales right before their originally planned New Year’s Eve release date.

With that deadline off their backs, the family was able to relax and enjoy the holiday in style. In honor of all the relatives who had helped with his game launch, Luigi orchestrated a charity stream at the local gaming center, raising money for the family's foundation for at risk youth.

They kicked things off early in the morning, gathering a group of sims to participate in a timed Watcher Tales build challenge.

“You’ve got 2 hours to create a rockin’ party venue” Luigi told them “I’ll be checking in throughout on your progress, and at the end we’ll take turns touring all your creations, while our online viewers vote on their favorite. Good luck everyone!”

The winning build wound up being a futuristic nightclub lot, designed by the foundation’s volunteer computer science tutor, Mauricio.

Luigi had known this fellow computer lover since their teen years, when he’d been captain of Copperdale High’s computer club. The now much more mellow sim had put his interest in technology to good use both at the foundation and as a teacher at their old alma mater.

“I love your game, and so do my students.” he told Luigi when he came over to offer his congratulations. “The logic and data puzzles you added to the gearhead career are genius. It’s a fun way for kids to learn some of the basics of programming and I’m excited to work it into my lesson plans.”

As the attendees enjoyed placing their creations into their game worlds, Luigi was setting up breakfast with Grandpa Don and his friend Anderson.

“Anderson, this is Lalani. She wants to open her own catering business someday and today she’ll be helping you prepare your famous waffles for our event. Meanwhile, our volunteer Bradley here will be helping Don prepare drinks for all our guests. Nothing too potent now, he’s still a teen!”

“Brunch will be served shortly” he hollered to the crowd. “In the meantime, feel free to enjoy any of the fun activities we’ve setup throughout the center and thank you again for coming out to support this great cause!”

While Luigi was busy hosting the event and gathering footage for the foundations future promotions his son was unloading his most recent woes onto his friend Elyse “…then a clown with pliers started yanking out my teeth. It was awful! That wasn’t just a dream either…” he finished with a sigh “A bunch of my baby teeth are loose, and I hate how they’re all wiggly in my mouth. Daddy said I could just pull them out but I’m afraid to.”

“I totally get it” Elyse replied “I have nightmares too, and losing teeth is the worst! I yank mine to make sure I don’t swallow any in my sleep!”

“Oh, I don’t want to swallow them” Skye whimpered, more scared than ever, just in time for Bruce to jump into the conversation.

“I heard when you swallow a tooth it stays in your stomach for SEVEN YEARS!” their feisty friend grinned evilly at Skye’s horrified expression. “Now quite your bellyaching and come upstairs so I can kick your butts on this HUGE Space Invaders arcade game I found!”

After the meal Noemi gathered the children and teens for a little programming workshop. “Today I’ll show you how to program a simple music player and synthesizer so you can make your own tunes. I’ll also show you how to add your music tracks to Watcher Tales so you can hear them in game!”

Luigi filmed the kids working on their players, providing tips and tricks as he went. The sight of his friends, relatives, and the at-risk kids playing and learning together warmed his heart and made him proud of the good work the foundation was doing to help sims who might otherwise fall through the cracks.

Checking the donation counter Lugi was excited to see they’d already raised a healthy sum, and the day was just getting started!

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[darkmaga-returns]

The Client Must Agree to Chant a Satanic Abortion Ritual that they Claim is "Religious", Allowing Online Distribution of Abortion Pills

Dr Margaret Aranda Oct 30, 2024

Some emphases are mine.

Earlier this month, The Satanic Temple (TST) announced the opening of what it calls “the world’s second Satanic abortion clinic.”

“The term ‘clinic’ is certainly a stretch,” says Anne Reed, Senior Policy Advisor for Operation Rescue. “The ‘Right to Your Life Satanic Abortion Clinic’ is a landing page – not a building – where Virginia residents will be redirected to TST Health, The Satanic Temple’s virtual back-alley pill mill.”

TST opened its first “satanic abortion clinic” last year in New Mexico (also just a landing page that redirects to TST Health.) At that time, TST also announced “hopes to expand operations into other states, including those that do not allow clinicians to perform abortions.”

Working under the guise of a “religious” ritual and “religious abortion care,” TST aims to somehow establish these virtual clinics in states that are abortion free, leaning on religious freedom to get around protections for the preborn. Accordingly, only those “interested in performing TST’s abortion ritual” are eligible for medication abortion through TST. Agreeing to do the ritual is how one avoids paying extra costs beyond the $90 prescription for the abortion pills.

“Ending abortion has always been a spiritual battle,” says Troy Newman, President of Operation Rescue.”If America needs a reminder of that, look no further than these satanists strategizing to kill unborn children in states where those children are most protected, and drawing women into a narcissistic, spiritual ritual that glorifies the choosing of her life at the cost of someone else’s – her own child.”

The first words women are instructed to chant in the Satanic Abortion Ritual are, “One’s body is inviolable, subject to one’s own will alone.” The last words, after aborting the child, are, “By my body, my blood. By my will, it is done.”

“There was another Person in history who spoke of His Body and His Blood,” adds Newman. “Only He gave it that others might be saved. He spilled His blood so that His Father’s will – not His own – might be done. The words of this satanic ritual are a clear perversion of the words and work of Christ. “Abortion isn’t just about destroying babies. The spirit of abortion wants to destroy all humanity, as every human is an image bearer of God, the One Satan hates most.” When the first virtual clinic opened in 2023, Cosmopolitan magazine, which promotes itself as “the biggest young women’s media brand in the world,” ran a full story praising TST’s efforts. It also posted a collection of edgy images on social media that familiarized readers with each step of the satanic abortion ritual.