#Mergers and Acquisitions courses

[idealsnetwork12]

Startup Valuation

Startup Valuation is one of the challenging tasks often required by financial. We will discuss how to value startups through some of the more popular valuation methods. In the most general sense, these are new business ventures created by an entrepreneur. Startups usually focus on developing ideas or technologies, and the market valuation is required in the form of a new product or service.

[notbecauseofvictories]

cute thing I have learned during this conference: a couple different players are working in the quantum computing space, and specifically working on encryption protection algorithms to defend against attacks---these algorithms are called "kyber" and "dilithium" respectively.

nerds.

[deadsetobsessions]

Danny always knew tax evasion ran in his veins. His parents hadn’t been the most… morally sound of people, and less so as ecto-scientists.

He just didn’t think their lessons would ever result in a criminal empire that spanned the entire city and then some. Danny hadn’t seen it coming. His parents definitely wouldn’t have.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Wayne. Mr. Fox.”

Danny ‘the Phantom’ Fenton sat down across from a rather tense looking (to Danny’s enhanced senses, anyways) Brucie Wayne and his right hand, Lucius Fox. He smiled pleasantly, matching Brucie’s vacant smile with that touch of Midwest suburban mother smile.

With his acquisition of multiple Gotham companies, his rather newly established Fentom Co. became one of the largest holding companies in Gotham, the first being Wayne Enterprises and the second being Drake Industries. After months of constantly working his butt off while fending off assassins, reforming Gotham’s slums and cleaning up some of the streets, and taking care of his nest of street kids, Danny garnered enough power to even stand close to Wayne Enterprises in terms of financial powers.

The topic of this meeting was, of course, the proposed merger of Wayne Enterprises’ Medical R&D division with Fentom Co.’s pharmaceutical department. Usually, Wayne Enterprises wouldn’t even consider such an offer, as their Medical R&D division was the most well funded and least likely to be part of a Rogue’s scheme- and therefore most beloved- department of the same nature in Gotham. However, Danny had something the other offers didn’t.

Blackmail.

His overly polite smile widened as Bruce’s mask twitched. His eyes slid over to Lucius Fox.

“It’s an honor to meet you, sir. I’ve heard much about your genius in… research and development.”

By that, Danny meant that he knew Lucius Fox helped develop Batman’s tech.

He did a lot of stalking that week. It felt rather… invasive, even if he did get a bunch of juicy secrets.

You know what they say: dead men tell no tales… but halfas are generally blabbermouths.

“Is that so? It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Fenton.” The man quickly glanced between the youngsters, accurately predicting that this might have something to do with Bruce’s active nightlife.

“Yes, it is such a pleasure to meet you.”

Wow, Danny didn’t think he’d ever heard anyone sound both so perky and dead inside at the same time, except for Susan at Gotham High’s bake sale.

Bruce wishes he could be a Susan. He’s at best a Becky.

“Will you be staying, Mr. Fox? You’re the head of the R&D department, correct?”

“Ah, yes-”

“Oh, Lucius! I think you had an appointment with the finance department right now! I heard Sally talk about it, you know!”

Lucius Fox sent an unreadable look at Bruce before rallying.

“Oh, it must have slipped my mind. My apologies, Mr. Fenton, it seems as though I can not skip this appointment.”

“That’s alright. I suppose it gives you… plausible deniability… should things go wrong, haha!” Danny allowed his smile to widen a little further than natural. Bruce tensed but Lucius Fox simply politely smiled and left the room.

Ignorance is bliss and all that, Danny amusedly thought.

As the door shut with a click, Bruce dropped the vacant Brucie smile and sighed.

“What do you want,” he gritted out. Danny wasn’t about to let that slide, not after he spent the better part of this month wrangling Bruce’s problem children.

“Ah, it must be because I’m from the Midwest, Brucie, but where I come from, we value these things called manners.”

You uneducated jerk, he doesn’t say.

Danny leaned back in his chair, loosening his smile into something relaxed and sharp.

“…” Oh, boy, Danny could just hear the other man’s blood pressure rising. “What is the purpose of your visit, Mr. Fenton?”

“Relax, Brucie,” Danny sing-songed in a non-relaxing way. “I’m just here to discuss a possible merger that I’m sure you’ll agree to, and give you a couple of updates on your… wayward bird.”

He heard Bruce take a slow, controlled breath. “Very well. Where. Would. You. Like. To. Start.”

Danny ignored the gritted out sentence. He passed a contract to Bruce, who took it like he was handling a live bomb.

“Here’s the proposal, Mr. Wayne. Please, look it over.”

He watched as Bruce looked over the contract with an eagle eye before lowering it, scrutinizing Danny.

“This is… very fair.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. Of course it was fair. Danny wasn’t interested in exploiting the Waynes, despite them being very able to afford it.

He’d brought fifty manufacturing sites for pharmaceuticals, and offered up a building where both companies could send their workers. He provided top notch security- that definitely didn’t have any talons on staff, what were they talking about?- that came from his own security division. Granted, most of them were reformed and trained goons, but hey, creating jobs can only help Gotham’s economy and help break the cycle of poverty, right? Guaranteed by the Wayne name and, most importantly, uncompromised medicine that was accessible to everyone would be a damn good start. He’d also have Penguin’s empire to distribute it to those who couldn’t make it to a clinic or a store, and there were plans in there to work with and establish contracts with Gotham’s welfare department. Well… once Danny finished replacing them with people who wouldn’t try to take a cut of the funds and actually cared about the people. He was thinking… the multitudes of poor grad students and parents that need income. He’s in the process of building childcare centers and…

It’s a good thing he managed to save money from the taxes (thank you, Gotham’s morally ambiguous tax experts that were in desperate need for clients! He could do it himself but having a team of accountants at the ready was seriously so helpful.) because ancients knows the government weren’t about to step into Gotham and help the people here. He needs so much money to pull all of this shit off and a lot of it has to be clean.

Danny inwardly sighed and marked another thing onto his to do list.

Make money laundering fronts.



“Of course, Mr. Wayne. You didn’t think I’d come in here demanding money, did you?”

“I considered it.”

“I am, in fact, trying to help Gotham. You might not agree with my methods, but I’d rather not damage Wayne Enterprises when it’s doing so much to help the people.”

Ugh, he was doing too much work. Danny just wanted to- hah- chill at home and read bed time stories to his kids.

Bruce Wayne, the specific blend between Brucie and Batman, regarded him silently. Danny felt like he went up a few notches in the respect ladder.

Nice.

“You’re a criminal.”

“Says the man in the bat-suit breaking into places and assaulting people.”

Bruce’s hands spasmed around the contract. Danny smiled at him, taking a sip of the coffee they’d prepared. Oo, nice!

“Ah, I heard you’re adopting- pardon, fostering- Tim Drake. Getting empty nest syndrome, Brucie?” He slipped back into using Bruce’s first name. The proposal was formal. This… was very much not.

“What about it?”

“That’s very kind of you. Speaking of which, well, of your birds, I was wondering if you remembered what I asked you to do.” Danny continued, not giving Bruce a chance to reply. “Didn’t I ask for you to keep your birds in line, Brucie?”

The CEO straightened even further, form filling out to be Batman’s imposing figure. “I did.”

“No, you didn’t. Do you know where your charge is, right now? No, not the formerly dead one,” Danny tilted his head, smile shrinking.

“Don’t you dare do anything to Tim. I swear, if you even lay a hand on a strand of his hair, I’ll-”

“Sit your Armani clad ass down, Bruce.” Danny snapped. “Your son’s in your office. I don’t harm children, and your assumptions are deeply insulting. Threaten me again, Bruce, and I’ll make sure you know exactly how much I know about your birds, your cousin, and the commissioner’s daughter.”

Bruce snarled but leashed his anger just enough to sit back down. He itched to go check on Tim, but leaving a threat like Phantom unwatched felt inherently wrong.

“Your other son,” Danny continued. “Is doing quite well. He’s learning that he has hobbies again. He’s actually working under me, you know.”

“He’s what.”

Oh, yeah, that tracks. It figured that Jason wouldn’t tell Bruce about anything. He’s still conflicted about his death. Danny got it.

“Ah, that’s precious information. You’ll have to offer something of equal value if you want to know. There is, on the other hand, a piece of information I’ll give you for free.”

Danny paused for the dramatic effect. It was lost on Bruce, the ultimate drama queen of this world.

“The League of Assassins are hanging around Hotham lately. It’s getting tedious, getting rid of them. I suggest talking to your old flame, you know, with words and what little communication skill you’ve got rattling around in your noggin to get them to pull back. Her interest is… unnaturally focused on Jason.”

Danny read the dark agreement swimming about Bruce’s face and inclined his head. “Should negotiations fail, rest assured that Jason will be protected.”

“…Thank you.”

“You are most welcome. Go ahead and discuss the contract with Mr. Fox, I am sure you’ll find little problems with it. Ah,” Danny stood up, fixing his suit jacket. “And you should probably check up on Timothy. He’s probably having a great time in your office, Mr. Wayne.”

“I’ll see you out.”

“Of course.”

Having Batman escorting him out should probably be more intimidating.

Danny stood in the elevator, waiting for Bruce’s contemplative silence to put itself into words.

Sure enough, “What… what kind of hobbies does Jason have now?”

“I’d tell you to ask him, but you two aren’t on speaking terms, are you? He likes books, of course, but recently, he’s found an interest in glass blowing. He made quite a bit of progress on his attempts at sun catchers.”

“I see.”

Well, Danny’s not about to step on that landmine any more than he has to.

——

“Danny.”

“Oh, hey, Jason. Sit down, we were about to have dinner.”

Jason clambered into the window. Danny sighed. He had a door, but by the way Jason never used it, it was like the door didn’t exist.

“Mind telling me why the old bastard showed up on my rooftops with a bunch of glass and glassblowing tools?”

Danny smiled. “No idea.”

“Uh huh.”

Danny placed a hand on his chest and put on his best woe-is-me expression. The teen’s face twitched in annoyance. “Doubt? At me? Why, I never!”

A bread roll thwacked him in the face.

[hoshifighting]

Arranged Marriage — Hoshi x Reader

— Synopsis: In contrast to the tired old plots of arranged marriages where the couple can't stand each other, you and Soonyoung are childhood friends. It's not just like marrying a friend—no, no, actually, it is marrying a friend, no-frills and simple. — WC: 10k — WARNINGS: smut, fluff, fingering, oral (m. receiving), penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, choking, one single slap on the ass, hair pulling, aftercare, whipped!hoshi, hoshi teases reader until she almost cries for dick, mentions of alcohol, mentions of body fluids (cum, sweat), DIRTY TALK—prob the nastiest dirty talk i've written.

You knew this day would come. 

Growing up in a world where luxury, money, stock exchange, and business were the pillars of existence, arranged marriages were just another part of the cycle. Two patrimonies merging into one for the benefit of both families—it was a tradition as old as time. 

Some couples embraced the spotlight, showcasing their unity to the world. Others barely tolerated each other, living in separate homes to maintain a fake image. There were also those whose mutual disdain led to chaos both in their personal lives and in the family businesses.

When you saw Soonyoung in your home, dressed in a suit that clearly wasn’t his style, you felt a hurricane of emotions. His usual vibrant, carefree energy seemed stifled under the weight of the tailored fabric. You greeted him and his family alongside your parents, both of you a shy mess, but something in his eyes told you things might not be as bad as you feared.

“Hey,” Soonyoung murmured as you both found a moment away from the adults’ formal discussions. “This suit is killing me.”

You laughed softly, feeling a sense of relief. “You look... different.”

“Yeah, definitely not my usual style, you know me” he grinned, loosening his tie. “But I guess we’re both out of our comfort zones today.”

You nodded, memories flooding back of the two of you playing outside when kids, during business congresses, your parents inside discussing mergers and acquisitions while you and Soonyoung chased each other around the gardens. “Do you remember those days?”

“Of course,” he said, eyes lighting up with nostalgia. “We had our own little world, didn’t we?”

“We did,” you replied. “And now, here we are.”

“So, how do you feel about this?” he asked, shy, looking at your expensive dress, clearly set for tonight. “About us... getting married?”

“I’ve been preparing for it my whole life, I guess,” you said honestly. “But with you... it feels different. Less intimidating."

“I feel the same,” Soonyoung admitted. “I mean, if it had to be anyone, I’m glad it’s you.”

You smiled. “Maybe we can make this work. Find a balance between our lifes.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “We can create something new, something that’s ours.”

You looked at him, seeing not just the boy you grew up with, but a partner. Someone who understood the complexities of your world and was willing to navigate them with you.

You looked around your house, taking in the scene. Soonyoung’s family mingled with yours, coworkers from your parents’ firms exchanged polite conversation, and your and Soonyoung’s nephews were playing circles around the couch. 

The weight of the day pressed on your shoulders, a burden that didn’t match the elegance of the dress you were wearing for the marriage proposal.

Soonyoung’s eyes met yours, noticing your tense posture. “You’re nervous, aren’t you?” he asked softly.

You looked at him, sulking, and he recognized the same expression you had when you were eight. 

He leaned in, whispering, “Don’t tell anyone, but I brought a bottle of tequila. It’s in my trunk. Would you like some to relax?”

You stared at him in silence before nodding with an exasperated look, feeling like it was exactly what you needed.

“Did you bring a shot cup?” you asked, following him outside.

He stopped, bottle in hand, and you both laughed. Taking the bottle from him, you leaned against his car, opened the cap, and poured a generous shot—maybe a little more—straight into your mouth. Soonyoung watched, his mouth wide open in surprise. You handed the bottle back to him.

“Why are you nervous?” he asked, taking a swig himself, looking comically exaggerated as he did. “I’m the one who has to kneel and propose today. My heart feels like it’s about to explode.”

You both laughed like teenagers getting away with something forbidden, hiding behind his car.

After a moment of comfortable silence, you broke it. “Do you have the ring here?”

He looked at you and nodded.

“Can I see it?” you asked, your curiosity piqued as if he had a rare Pokémon card.

“Is that right?” he teased.

You made doe eyes and asked, “Pretty please?”

He smiled, pulling a small black box from his pocket and opening it for you. 

The diamond ring sparkled in your eyes, its brilliance captivating. “It’s beautiful,” you murmured.

Soonyoung nodded, grinning. “My sister helped me choose it. I originally wanted a diamond shaped like a cat, but she said that wasn’t appropriate.”

You laughed, the image of a cat-shaped diamond making you smile. “It’s beautiful, but a kitten-shaped ring sounds adorable. I would’ve loved that too.”

His grin widened, a small, proud smile lighting up his face as you both admired the ring.

Your moment was interrupted by Soonyoung’s mom's voice, echoing from the house. “Oh my god, are you already proposing?”

Soonyoung choked on his own saliva, his eyes wide with panic. The best thing to do now? Say no and face his mother’s scolding for showing the ring prematurely, or actually propose right then and there?

Before he could think it through, he found himself on one knee on the sidewalk, his heart pounding. You quickly hid the tequila bottle behind your back.

“Soonyoung, what are you doing?” you whispered, eyes wide.

“I... I’m improvising,” he replied, clearing his throat. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

The spontaneity of it all, made you laugh and cry at the same time, you needed to pretend you were actually emotional. “Yes, Soonyoung. Yes, I will.”

You barely noticed the sudden crowd that had gathered around you, they'd appeared out of nowhere, all eyes on the two of you. Soonyoung’s hand trembled slightly as he slid the ring onto your finger, the cool metal contrasting with the warmth of his touch.

You smiled nervously at him, teeth gritted. “Hug me,” you whispered urgently, your eyes darting to the tequila bottle that was precariously wedged behind your back. “Please, put the tequila bottle inside your car. It's practically shoved inside my ass.”

Soonyoung blinked, processing your words before a grin spread across his face. He pulled you into a tight hug, the kind that felt both reassuring and grounding. As he embraced you, he expertly reached behind you, his fingers brushing against the bottle. 

You could feel his body shaking slightly with suppressed laughter.

“Hang on,” he whispered back.

He managed to grab the bottle and discreetly slid it out from behind you. Still holding you close, he took a step back towards the car, opening the door with one hand and slipping the bottle inside. The whole maneuver was so smooth that you doubted anyone noticed the clandestine operation.

That moment eased the tension of the night, but the tequila hadn’t taken effect yet, and you knew you had to keep an eye on Soonyoung. His alcohol tolerance was notoriously low, and you didn’t want him to embarrass himself—or worse, get into trouble.

As the night wound down and Soonyoung’s dad started to lead him to the car, Soonyoung sulked, trying to resist. “I want to talk a bit more to my bride,” he protested, his voice slightly slurred. His words elicited good-natured laughter from both families, who were enjoying the unexpected turn of events.

You walked over to him, giving him a warm hug and patting his head affectionately. “It’s time to go home, Soonyoung,” you said gently.

He looked at you with wide, earnest eyes, the warmth in his gaze reminding you of why you felt less nervous than you should. Soonyoung had always been warm-hearted, and maybe that’s why you felt a sense of calm amidst the chaos.

As you pulled back from the hug, Soonyoung’s hand lingered in yours for a moment longer. “Promise you’ll call me tomorrow?” he asked, his tone earnest despite his tipsiness.

“Promise,” you replied, smiling as you squeezed his hand.

With one last affectionate look, Soonyoung allowed his dad to guide him into the car. You watched as the vehicle pulled away. Your parents approached, their expressions a blend of amusement and expectation.

“Well, that was quite a night,” your mom said, her eyes twinkling with delight.

“Yes, it was,” you agreed, glancing at your dad, who nodded in approval.

“You two make a good pair,” your dad said, his tone warm. “I’m glad to see you both getting along so well.”

Your parents were now expectant, believing you and Soonyoung were truly becoming a couple. And in a way, you were—just not in the conventional sense they imagined.

The next day, even though it was a promise to a drunk boy, you called Soonyoung in the morning. Like any typical business wedding, the preparations started swiftly, aiming to have the wedding happen as soon as possible. Today, you were going to choose the food and drinks for the event.

When Soonyoung arrived, he was all tidied up, but his face was clearly tired. You laughed a bit, “You look…”

He completed for you, “Fucked?”

You chuckled, “I wasn’t going to say that.”

“Long night,” he admitted, rubbing his eyes. “But I’m here.”

“Good, because we have a lot to decide,” you replied, glancing at the event agent who was discussing the dessert options.

As you both looked at the event agent, who insisted on adding superfluous things to the sweets—like a layer of gold—you exchanged amused glances. The agent was enthusiastically explaining the virtues of gold-leaf-covered desserts.

“Gold? For us to... poop?” Soonyoung murmured incredulously.

You stifled a laugh and leaned closer to him. “Can’t it be something more tasty?”

The agent looked slightly taken aback. “Gold leaf is quite a statement piece.”

Soonyoung nodded, trying to be polite. “But we were thinking of something simpler.”

“How about churros?” you suggest.

The agent blinked, clearly not expecting that. “Churros? For a wedding?”

“Why not?” you said with a grin. “They’re delicious, and everyone loves them.”

“But they don’t exactly scream luxury,” the agent protested.

“They scream fun,” Soonyoung countered. “And isn’t that what weddings are supposed to be?”

The agent sighed, making a note. “Alright, churros it is. Anything else?”

“Maybe some street-style tacos?” he added, enjoying the agent’s bewildered expression.

“Tacos?” the agent repeated, as if the word was foreign.

“Yeah, why not?” Soonyoung agreed. “Let’s keep it simple and tasty.”

The agent finally nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Very well. I’ll make the arrangements.”

Honestly, days flew by with Soonyoung by your side. Planning every little detail of the wedding together brought both fun and challenges, especially when your tastes didn’t always align. It was a bit complicated at first, like when you two were choosing the destination for your honeymoon. 

Soonyoung wanted an adventure-packed trip to the Amazon rainforest, while you preferred a relaxing beach resort in the Maldives. The negotiations were intense, but you eventually settled on a compromise.

Choosing Soonyoung’s suit also proved to be a task. He insisted on wearing a tie with a tiger print, a nod to his childhood love for tigers. You were surprised that his fascination with the big cats had persisted, but you drew the line at a tiger tie. “Absolutely not,” you told him firmly, trying to imagine the looks you’d get. “A tiger tie is a no from me, and I think a lot of people would agree.”

“Fine,” he conceded with a sigh, but you could tell he was already thinking about how to sneak a little tiger motif into his outfit.

When it came to choosing your dress, you were accompanied by your mom, Soonyoung’s mom, and his sister. 

Soonyoung, the only man in the group, tagged along as well. The other brides at the boutique initially assumed he was either your brother or your stylist. 

Their jaws nearly dropped when they overheard he was actually the groom.

One of the brides, adjusting her veil in front of a mirror, turned to you, wide-eyed. “Wait, he’s your husband-to-be?”

“Yes, he is,” you confirmed with a smile, watching Soonyoung fuss over a lace detail on one of the dresses.

Another bride laughed softly. “Lucky you! He’s so involved.”

“He’s been amazing,” you said. “Except for his obsession with tiger prints.”

Soonyoung, overhearing, grinned and walked over. “What can I say? Tigers are cool.”

“Soonyoung, you’re a unique groom,” his sister teased, shaking her head.

As you tried on dresses, Soonyoung offered his opinions with surprising thoughtfulness, balancing out his more quirky suggestions. He was genuinely invested in making sure you felt beautiful and confident in your choice.

You’d tried on everything: the biggest gowns, the tightest silhouettes, dresses with endless layers of skirts, and others that hugged your hips so closely it felt like they were molded to your skin. 

There were corsets that took your breath away—literally—and fabrics that shimmered under the boutique lights. 

But this time, when you left the dressing room, you were wearing a veil.

Soonyoung’s eyes didn’t lie for a second. He liked this one very much. The women around you—your mom, Soonyoung’s mom, and his sister—fussed over the dress, adjusting it here and there, offering compliments. But Soonyoung was speechless.

If Soonyoung were to be completely honest, up until this moment, he had always seen you as his friend, the girl he was going to marry because of an arrangement. You were the same girl who used to run around the events, eluding the security guards with your mischievous giggles. 

But now, you were different. You were a woman. His woman. And you looked stunning.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you. The transformation was breathtaking. You stood there, looking radiant in your wedding dress, and for the first time, the reality of the situation hit him. You weren’t just a friend anymore; you were about to become his partner, his wife.

He was so lost in the moment that he didn’t realize he was gawking until you and the women turned to him, waiting for his response. He blinked, snapping back to reality, and managed to find his voice.

“You look...” he started, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words. “You look absolutely stunning.”

Your cheeks flushed at his earnest compliment. “You really think so?”

Soonyoung nodded, still unable to tear his eyes away. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.”

His sister grinned, nudging him playfully. “Told you she’d find the perfect dress.”

Your mom wiped away a tear, “You’re going to make a beautiful bride.”

Soonyoung’s mom stepped forward, adjusting a tiny detail on the veil. “This is the one. It’s perfect.”

You looked at yourself in the mirror, feeling a sense of certainty wash over you. “Yes, this is the one,” you said, smiling at the reflection and then at the people around you who made this moment even more special.

[...]

The days leading up to the wedding were a whirlwind of activity. Every day brought something new to choose, and your creativity was running dry. You were worn out, and Soonyoung knew it. Today had been particularly exhausting.

As the realtor showed you yet another option for apartments in the Metropole, you responded with short answers, your enthusiasm long gone after visiting sixteen places that day alone.

“So, what do you think?” the realtor asked.

Soonyoung noticed your hesitation. “Can I talk with my wife for a sec?” he asked.

The realtor nodded and walked off, giving you space.

“Y/N-nie... are you okay?” Soonyoung asked softly, looking at you through his lashes.

You sighed, your shoulders slumping. “I’m so tired,” you confessed.

He took a step closer, his voice softening. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You breathed out heavily. “My family is putting a lot of pressure on me, and I’m working relentlessly at the company. I can’t wait for us to get married…”

Soonyoung’s heart sank a little. “You want to get married just to get free from it?”

“No, it’s not just that. It’s everything. The wedding preparations, the constant decisions, the endless work... I feel like I’m drowning.”

He reached out, gently taking your hand. “We don’t have to rush this, you know. We can take our time.”

“But everyone’s expecting so much from us,” you replied, feeling the weight of expectations.

“Let them expect,” he said firmly. “And I want this to be as much about you as it is about us.”

“I just... I don’t want to disappoint anyone,” you admitted.

“You won’t,” Soonyoung assured you. “You’ve already done so much. It’s okay to take a step back and breathe.”

You took a deep breath, feeling a bit lighter. “Alright. Let’s look at this apartment one more time.”

Soonyoung nodded, giving you an encouraging smile. “And if it’s not the one, we’ll keep looking until we find the perfect place for us.”

You laughed softly, the tension easing. “You always know how to make things better.”

“Just doing my job as your soon-to-be husband,” he said playfully.

Soonyoung was doing an incredible job. 

From what you’d heard from friends who had gone through the same situation, they didn’t have partners like Soonyoung. You felt proud of him. 

He was your rock, making sure you took a breath when you were overwhelmed by the slightest things. He even insisted you didn't move a finger during brunch, making you so relaxed that you found the apartment you’d been searching for on the very same day.

The drive home was quiet, the car enveloped in a peaceful silence that allowed you a moment to rest. You laid your head back as he drove, appreciating the tranquility. Once you arrived, you stayed seated for a bit, soaking in the comfort of the quiet.

Soonyoung looked at you, waiting patiently. When you finally looked up, he gave you a gentle smile. “Ready to go in?”

You nodded, feeling a bit more refreshed. “Yeah, let’s go.”

He stepped out of the car and came around to your side, opening the door for you. “Take your time,” he said softly.

You appreciated his patience as you slowly got out of the car. “Thank you, Soonyoung.”

He smiled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you walked towards the house. “I’m just doing what any good partner would do.”

You leaned into him, feeling grateful for his support. “I don’t think everyone is as lucky as I am.”

He chuckled softly. “Well, I’m pretty lucky too, you know.”

As you entered the house, you felt a sense of relief. The apartment search was over, and you had found the perfect place. More importantly, you had Soonyoung by your side, making every step of this journey easier.

“So, what’s next on our list?” he asked, guiding you to the living room.

You sank into the couch, feeling the exhaustion of the day catch up to you. “I think a nap is next on my list.”

He laughed, sitting beside you. “That sounds like a perfect plan.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of the day lift off your shoulders. “Wake me up in an hour?”

[...]

The days flew by in a blur with the whirlwind of wedding preparations. It felt like only moments ago you were choosing flowers, tasting cakes, and finalizing guest lists. 

Now, as you stood at the end of the aisle, holding a bouquet in front of Soonyoung, the reality of the moment hit you with full force.

The weight of the dress and the pressure of looking perfect made your hands sweat like never before. You felt like a porcelain doll, perfectly polished and poised.

Soonyoung stood there, his eyes fixed on you with pride. He couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness. Here you were, a perfect woman by his side, and even better, an old friend he'd known for years. 

The familiarity of your presence brought him comfort. Despite the fact that you hadn’t really dated, the idea of having someone as pretty and cool as you with him every day made him feel at ease about the whole situation.

As you walked down the aisle, your eyes met his, and a small, reassuring smile played on his lips. He looked stunning in his suit, and the way he stood tall, waiting for you, made your heart flutter. 

You could see a hint of nervousness in his eyes, mirroring your own, but there was also a calmness there, a silent promise that everything would be alright.

When you finally reached him, he extended his hand towards you. He leaned in slightly, whispering just loud enough for you to hear, “You look amazing.”

You blushed, your nerves momentarily forgotten. “Thank you. You look pretty good yourself.”

The vows were sincere, filled with heartfelt words that spoke more to your shared friendship than any romantic notion. Both of you couldn’t help but giggle as you remembered all the crazy things you’d done together as kids. 

Your minds flashed to the time you stole sweets from an event or when you both jumped into a water fountain during an important dinner with company directors.

As the officiant declared you husband and wife, all of these memories became a sweet reverie. You leaned in and whispered with a playful glint in your eye, “Are you going to kiss my lips or my cheek?”

Soonyoung blushed, clearly caught off guard by the question. A kiss on the cheek was typical in such moments since most arranged couples didn’t share a romantic bond. He stammered for a moment, his face flushing a deep shade of pink.

“Well… uh… I suppose the cheek would be safe,” he mumbled, eyes darting nervously.

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, leaning closer. “But where’s the fun in that, Soonyoung?”

He looked at you, his eyes widening slightly. The playful challenge in your gaze gave him the courage he needed. With a deep breath, he moved in, his hand gently cupping your face.

“I think I’ll go for the lips,” he whispered back, his voice steadying.

The crowd held its breath as Soonyoung leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a soft, tender kiss. It was a simple kiss, not passionate, but filled with the warmth of years of friendship and the promise of a shared future. The applause that followed was thunderous, but all you could focus on was the feeling of his lips against yours.

As you pulled away, you both wore matching grins. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” you teased,

He laughed, shaking his head. “Not bad at all. Actually, it was kind of nice.”

You linked arms, turning to face the crowd together. Your parents looked relieved and proud, while your friends were cheering loudly, clearly entertained by the spectacle. Soonyoung’s eyes met yours again, and there was a newfound spark there, full of possibilities.

As you both shared champagne with your parents, Soonyoung playfully asked, "No tequila tonight?" You were about to respond when his mom's voice cut in, "Tequila?"

Soonyoung’s eyes widened, and his mouth twisted into a frown as he tried to suppress his laughter. You quickly improvised, "Huh, h-he meant... tacos! We had tacos with tequila last time, remember?" You forced a smile, hoping it sounded convincing enough. His mom seemed satisfied with the answer, nodding along.

After mingling with guests—aka talking with people from work about the next meeting—you finally found a moment to escape the spotlight. You and Soonyoung crouched behind the kitchen, hiding from the crowd. The chefs chuckled at the sight of the newlyweds sneaking bites of food, but they made sure to hand you the best eats, knowing how overwhelming the day could be.

Soonyoung grinned, playfully nudging you. "We're so used to doing this at parties that we're practically pros now."

You nodded in agreement, a mischievous smile on your face. "Even though it's our own wedding party," you said, shaking your head in disbelief.

He chuckled, looking at the gold ring on your finger with a sense of wonder. "Our wedding... I still can't believe it. Oh my god, we're grown adults now."

You couldn’t help but laugh, reaching out to pat his head mockingly. "We've been grown adults for... kind of a long time already," you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, then leaned in closer, his voice softening. "Yeah, but it feels different now. Like, we're really starting something new."

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words. It was true. The reality of your situation was sinking in, but in a way, it felt comforting. You had each other, and that made everything seem a little less daunting. As you sat there, hidden away from the chaos of the celebration, it struck you how much you appreciated this moment—just the two of you, stealing away for a breather.

“Shall we follow tradition?” Soonyoung asks, a playful glint in his eyes. You frown, confused, as he reaches into the fridge and pulls out a bottle of tequila.

“Should tequila be kept in the fridge?” you ask, laughing at the sight.

“I hope so,” he replies, pouring the liquid into a cup. “This one is expensive.”

You raise an eyebrow, taking the cup from him. “The cheapest has the same effect,” you say, waiting for him to pour his own.

He chuckles, raising his glass. “But today’s a special day. We deserve the good stuff.”

You laugh it off, crossing your arms before taking the shot together. The familiar burn makes you both scrunch up your faces.

The wedding party was truly one of a kind. You and Soonyoung were a bit too excited, turning the waltz space into a wild dance floor. 

At first, your parents were too embarrassed to join, especially at the sight of Soonyoung twerking on you. But soon, even the directors and business partners were on the dance floor, dancing and drinking extravagantly.

[...]

The next morning, you and Soonyoung were woken up by the buzzing of your phones. 

Your makeup was smudged and stamped on the pillow, and you were still in your wedding dress. You scratched your scalp, feeling the bobby pins still tangled in your hair. 

Soonyoung was no better; his shirt was unbuttoned to his belly button, his tie was loosened around his neck, and his hair looked like a bird's nest. He scratched his forehead groggily. Despite sharing the same bed, you both seemed unbothered by it.

You grabbed your phone and saw the company group chat flooded with messages:

“Wow, last night was incredible! Congrats to the newlyweds!”

“I can't believe we all danced that much! My feet are killing me. :')”

“Best wedding party ever! So happy for you guys!”

“My head is pounding, but it was totally worth it. ^^ Cheers to you both!”

“I’m still recovering from all that dancing. What a party!”

“Never thought I’d see the CEO breakdancing. ㅋㅋㅋㅋ”

You couldn't help but smile at the messages, as Soonyoung peeked over your shoulder, a sleepy grin spreading across his face.

“My head hurts,” Soonyoung complains, rubbing his temples.

You adjust the corset of your dress, feeling the tightness around your ribs. "My ribs are squeezed," you grumble, wincing as you try to get comfortable. "I can't believe I slept in this."

He yawns, glancing down at your leg. "You even kept the garter on," he points out, noticing the delicate band still around your thigh.

You crack your neck, feeling the weight of the long night. "Your sister gave it to me, so I put it on," you explain, lifting the voluminous skirt to reveal the bridal garter.

His eyes widen comically. "My sister?! Is there something I don't know?"

You frown at him, a bit confused. "You don’t know about the tradition?"

Soonyoung looks a bit lost, scratching his head. "I mean, it’s my first time getting married."

You sigh, laying back down. "Traditionally, the groom is supposed to take it off when... taking the virginity," you explain, watching his face turn a shade of pink.

His eyes dart around nervously, processing the information. "So... my sister thought I was... a virgin?"

You shrug, teasing, "Probably. Are you?"

He laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Definitely not. And you?"

You raise an eyebrow, smirking. "Nope. Sorry to disappoint."

He chuckles, finally relaxing. "Good to know. Not that it matters, but... it's funny to think about how everyone just assumes stuff."

“Are you going to take it off?” you tease, stretching your leg up and wiggling your foot playfully. Your eyes glint mischievously as you watch Soonyoung’s reaction.

He scoffs, but a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “What, you mean right now?” His eyes flicker to your thigh, then quickly back up to your face, trying to gauge if you’re serious or just messing with him.

You arch an eyebrow, maintaining your playful expression. “Why not? It’s tradition, right? Don’t you want to fulfill your husbandly duties?” You stretch your leg out further, making the garter more visible.

Soonyoung chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable,” he mutters, but there’s a sparkle of joy in his eyes. He reaches out hesitantly, his fingers brushing lightly against your thigh. The touch sends a shiver to your skin, and you can’t help but giggle.

“What’s the matter?” you prod, your voice dripping with mock innocence. “You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”

He rolls his eyes, trying to suppress a laugh. “Not at all,” 

You bute your lip as his fingers graze the lacy fabric of the garter. His touch is feather-light, almost ticklish, and you squirm a bit under his hand.

Soonyoung smirks, clearly enjoying your reaction. “You’re squirming,” he notes, his voice low and teasing. “Does that mean you’re nervous?”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Me? Nervous? Please,” you retort, trying to sound confident despite the rapid beating of your heart. “I’m just surprised you’re taking so long. I thought you’d be an expert at this.”

He chuckles, sliding his hand a bit higher up your thigh, his thumb brushing against your skin in slow, deliberate strokes. “Oh, I am,” he replies smoothly. “Just savoring the moment.”

“Well, don’t take too long,” you murmur, your voice softening slightly. “We wouldn’t want to miss out on any other wedding traditions.”

Soonyoung grins, his fingers hooking under the garter. “Right, can’t forget those,” he says, his voice tinged with a hint of naughtiness. 

He gently tugs on the garter, slowly sliding it down your leg, his eyes never leaving yours. 

As he finally slips the garter off, he holds it up triumphantly, a goofy grin on his face. “There, tradition fulfilled,” he declares, waving the garter like a trophy.

You laugh, shaking your head at his antics. “Congratulations,” you say, clapping mockingly. “You’ve successfully removed a piece of elastic lace. Truly, a remarkable achievement.”

He bows dramatically, playing along. “Thank you, thank you,” he says, flashing you a cheeky smile. “It was a tough job, but someone had to do it.”

You can’t help but laugh, the light-hearted banter making the moment feel even more special. Soonyoung’s hand lingers on your leg for a moment longer before he finally lets go.

As Soonyoung gets up, stretching his arms with a yawn, he announces, "I'm going to take a bath." He heads towards the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

You sit up, still feeling the effects of last night's festivities, and shout after him, “Ya! Ladies first!”

From behind the closed door, you hear Soonyoung's laughter echo in the bathroom. “Sorry, didn’t hear you over the sound of me already starting the water!” he calls back, his voice filled with playful defiance.

You shake your head, smiling to yourself. It’s these little moments that make everything feel so natural and easy with him. After a few minutes, you hear the sound of running water stop, and Soonyoung emerges from the bathroom, his hair damp and a towel wrapped around his waist.

“All yours,” he says, grinning. “I left some hot water for you, too.”

You roll your eyes playfully, grabbing your toiletries and heading into the bathroom. The warm water is a welcome relief, washing away the remnants of makeup and the night's events. After a quick shower, you step out feeling slightly more human, though the hangover still lingers.

As you both finish getting ready, the thought of breakfast crosses your mind. However, just the idea of food makes your stomach churn. The hotel's breakfast spread is typically lavish, but today, the thought of greasy bacon and pastries is anything but appetizing.

Soonyoung, dressed in a casual outfit, catches your expression as you look at the food options. “Yeah, not feeling it either,” he says, rubbing his temple. “Let's skip it.”

You nod in agreement, both of you opting for just a coffee to stave off the worst of the hangover. With minimal conversation, you gather your belongings, checking out of the hotel and heading straight to the airport.

But one thing you definitely didn’t expect was Soonyoung falling asleep on your shoulder within the first thirty minutes of the flight. His head rested heavily against you, and his hand, seemingly by accident, was placed on your thigh. 

As he softly snored, you couldn’t help but chuckle at how comfortable he looked. Anyone passing by would probably think you two were an old married couple, so naturally attuned to each other.

His head's weight pressed down on your shoulder, a constant reminder of his presence. Every now and then, you felt him subconsciously moisturizing his lips, a small, almost imperceptible movement that somehow made the moment even more cute.

You glanced at the small TV screen in front of you, trying to focus on the movie playing. It was a romance novel adaptation, the kind with sweeping gestures and grand declarations of love.

Normally, you might have rolled your eyes at the cliché, but with Soonyoung sleeping peacefully beside you, it felt oddly fitting.

As the plane cruised through the sky, you found yourself getting lost in the storyline, occasionally glancing at Soonyoung. His breathing was steady, a gentle rhythm that added to the soothing hum of the plane. 

You shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable without disturbing him, but his hand tightened instinctively on your thigh, holding you in place. It was a small, protective gesture that made your heart flutter.

What you loved the most was when Soonyoung finally woke up, blinking sleepily and then immediately apologizing. "I'm so sorry," he repeated, his face flushed with embarrassment. You chuckled, assuring him it was okay, that he had every right to rest. He seemed genuinely mortified, even offering, “You can sleep on my shoulder too, I promise.”

You smiled at his earnestness, brushing it off with a light, “Maybe on the way back, then,” as the announcement came that you were about to land.

Once you arrived, Soonyoung was quick to grab the suitcases from the taxi, his efficiency a comfort as you made your way to the hotel's check-in counter.

The concierge’s eyes seemed to linger on you a little too long, his gaze sliding over your sundress and perhaps admiring more than just the attire. 

As you waited for the receptionist, the concierge leaned casually on the counter, offering a friendly, yet slightly flirtatious, smile.

“First time here, ma’am?” he asked, his tone smooth and inviting.

“Well, yes...” you replied, keeping your voice polite but detached. You could feel the weight of his attention and tried to subtly stretch your hand, making sure the gold ring on your finger was clearly visible.

The concierge didn’t seem to get the hint, or perhaps he chose to ignore it. “You’re in for a treat. We’ve got some wonderful spots for—”

Before he could continue, you felt Soonyoung's presence behind you, a comforting warmth at your back. His body pressed lightly against yours, a subtle yet possessive gesture that didn’t go unnoticed. His hand slipped around your waist, resting just below your belly, the touch gentle but unmistakably protective.

He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “Everything alright?” he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity and a subtle edge.

You could almost feel the shift in the air. The concierge straightened up, his expression flickering between surprise and a polite smile. “Oh, just making sure your stay is perfect,” he said, his tone now more professional, eyes darting between you and Soonyoung.

“Thank you,” Soonyoung replied, his voice steady. His hand didn’t move from its spot on your belly, and the slight squeeze he gave was enough to send a clear message. You leaned back into him, feeling a rush of warmth at his silent claim.

The receptionist finally returned with your room keys, handing them over with a bright, “Welcome to our hotel! We hope you enjoy your stay.” With the keys in hand, you and Soonyoung made your way to the elevator.

As the doors closed, sealing you both from the world outside, you turned to Soonyoung with a smirk. “Looks like someone’s a little possessive.”

He grinned back, a playful glint in his eyes. “Just making sure everyone knows you’re taken.”

You tease him back with a playful smirk. “Well, it’s just a business marriage. You shouldn’t worry about stuff like that,” you say, your tone light and slightly mocking.

Soonyoung scoffs, turning his gaze to the side with a dramatic sigh. “You’re such an idiot,” he mocks, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“An idiot, hm?” you counter, crossing your arms with a smirk. “Well, I’m an idiot you agreed to marry, so I guess that makes you twice the fool.”

He raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Sharp tongue of yours, huh?”

You nod, feigning innocence. “What can I say? I’ve had years of practice.”

Soonyoung leans in closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, it’s a shame. I was really looking forward to giving you something special once we got to our hotel room.”

Your curiosity piques immediately. “Something special? Like what?”

He grins, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Oh, just something that’ll make you remember tonight.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to gauge his meaning. “Something that’ll make me remember tonight, huh? Care to elaborate?”

Soonyoung chuckles, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, I think you already know what I’m talking about.”

You narrow your eyes, playfully challenging him. “Do I? Because you’re being awfully vague.”

He leans back, enjoying the game. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

The teasing glint in his eyes only fuels your curiosity further. You know exactly what he’s implying, but you play along, eager to hear him say it outright.

“So,” you press, “what is it? Can you give me a hint?”

Soonyoung’s grin widens, clearly relishing the moment. “Let’s just say it’s something that’ll make you very excited. And not just because of the hotel’s decor.”

You roll your eyes, laughing softly. “Alright, alright. I get it. You’re being all mysterious.”

You sulk, trailing behind Soonyoung as he walks down the hallway toward your room. “Tell me, pleeeease,” you plead.

Soonyoung glances back at you with a mischievous smile. “Nope, not telling,” he says, his grin widening as he enjoys your insistence.

When you reach the door, Soonyoung unlocks it and pushes it open, gesturing for you to enter. You walk in, your eyes scanning the room briefly, but your focus quickly returns to Soonyoung. He places the suitcases by the door and then hops onto the bed, sprawling out with a relaxed sigh.

You stay standing by the door, your arms crossed over your chest, giving him a sulky, upset look. 

“So,” Soonyoung says with a defiant glare, “am I forgetting something?”

You pout, trying to look as curious and frustrated as possible. “You’ve got me curious,” you admit, your eyes wide.

He laughs, brushing his hand through his hair with a playful sigh. “You’re almost throwing a tantrum over this?”

Soonyoung slides his hand down his abdomen slowly, getting lower and lower, until he's wrapping his fingers around his cock through his white shorts. The outline is clear, thick, and perfectly defined against the fabric.

He gives it a little shake, a sly smile playing on his lips as he watches your reaction.

You stare at him in shock, your knees almost giving way as you take in the sight. Your mouth opens slightly, but no words come out as you struggle to process what you're seeing.

Soonyoung’s smile widens, clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on you. “Are you surprised?”

He chuckles softly, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Well, I figured it was time to give you a little hint,” he says, his hand still resting casually on his bulge. “So, do you think you’re ready to find out what else I have in store for tonight?”

You stammer, unable to look away from the outline of his cock pressed against the fabric of his shorts. “Do we have to wait until nightfall?”

Soonyoung licks his lips, his gaze never leaving you. “Oh,” he drawls, “but you have to walk properly tonight, so we can go to the restaurant.”

Your eyes darken, a fire igniting within you. “You think I can’t handle all of this inside?” 

He raises an eyebrows. “You shouldn’t,” he says, his voice dripping with devilishness. “It’s just a business wedding, after all.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Just a business wedding, huh? You really want to test me?”

Soonyoung chuckles, clearly enjoying the playful back-and-forth. “That’s right. Let’s see if you can keep your composure while we enjoy a nice dinner.”

You take a deep breath, feeling a rush of adrenaline. “Challenge accepted,” 

You’ve never been so turned on by someone’s mere presence before. The entire city tour was a cruel game of torture, all at Soonyoung’s hands. 

In the taxi, his hand had wandered to your nude thigh, brushing against your skin like a feather. The way his fingers lightly caressed your inner leg made your heart race and your breath catch. 

At the restaurant, the casual caresses continued. His leg pressed against yours under the table, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

The warmth of his skin against yours, the way he would occasionally let his knee slide up your thigh—each movement was like an electric current surging through you, leaving you squirming in your seat.

Walking through the jewelry fair was an exercise in restraint. As you admired the sparkling displays, Soonyoung’s hands kept drifting to the exposed skin of your back. His touch was light, almost playful, but each graze against your bare skin made you shiver with need. 

You could barely focus on the dazzling jewels in front of you; your mind was consumed with the need for him.

By the time you were back in the elevator, you felt like you were on the edge of losing control. You could feel his eyes on you, sharp and hungry, as you pressed yourself against the wall. 

You turned your face away, but you couldn’t hide the truth from him. Your nipples, straining against your dress, betrayed your arousal. Your legs, pressed tightly together, were a clear sign of your desperation. Even your unsteady breaths gave you away.

When you finally arrived at the hotel room, you barely made it inside before your desperation took over. 

You throw him against the wall, hands planted firmly on his chest. The sound reverberates through the room, probably making the neighbors wonder what the hell is going on. His usually small eyes are wide, staring at you flaggerblasted. 

Your breath mingles with his as you lean in, letting your lips barely graze his. Your voice comes out breathy, almost desperate, “Please. Stop teasing me.”

For a moment, he's stunned, caught off guard by the whininess in your voice and the look on your face—like you might break if he doesn't give you what you need right now.

It's a twisted scenario, considering you're his childhood friend turned wife is standing before him with an expression that borders on agony—an agony only he can alleviate.

For a moment, he looks like he might laugh, but he knows he's on the verge of losing all sense of control, but a part of him relishes the idea. 

“Say it again,” he murmurs. He knows he's playing with fire, but he can't resist the thrill. His lips barely brush against yours, teasing, taunting.

“Soonyoung, I'm going to fucking cry if you don't—”

“Hold it,” he commands,you shudder, your breath hitching as he lifts your dress. And you comply, bunching the fabric in your fists to keep it out of the way. 

His hand slides down the front of your panties, and your head falls back. 

Soonyoung leans in, his lips ghosting over your ear. “You’re so fucking impatient,” he growls. 

His fingers slide through your slick folds, finding you wet and wanting, throbbing everytime he rubs his fat fingers on you. “You’ve never even tasted my cock, and you’re already obsessed, huh?” He presses his thumb against your clit, making you gasp. “You’re such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

You whimper, your hips bucking against his hand. You can barely think straight. “Please, Soonyoung,” you beg again, your voice cracking.

He chuckles darkly, clearly relishing your desperation. “You want my cock so bad, don't you?” His fingers slide inside you, curling just right, and you cry out. “You want me to fuck you senseless? Make you scream my name?”

“Yes,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper. The words spill out of you, unfiltered and raw. “I want you to ruin me.”

“You’ve never had anyone fill you up like I will,” he says. “I’m gonna stretch you out so good, baby. You’ll be begging for more, even when you can’t take it.”

The dirty talk, the sheer vulgarity of his words, makes you even wetter. You feel like you're on the verge of losing control, and it's rousing. 

Soonyoung's fingers pump in and out of you, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. His thumb rubs relentless circles on your clit, and you can feel the tension building, winding tighter and tighter.

“You’re gonna cum on my fingers first,” he whispers. “And then I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk straight for days. Is that what you want, baby? To be fucked so good, you can’t even think about anything else?”

“Yes, yes, please,” you pant, your voice high and desperate. You can feel the orgasm building, Soonyoung's touch is all-consuming, driving you wild with every stroke.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs.“So eager to please. I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good.”

Here and there, Soonyoung is driving you insane with his body affixed to the wall, one strong arm holding your leg up. His wrist swiveling to match his fingers as they explore your weeping cunt and his repetitive rubbing of the areas that cause you to roll your eyes. 

You cry out, gasping as you roll your hips onto his fingers, the orgasm making you forget what would be appropriate at the time. Soonyoung's fingers work you through it, drawing out every last drop of you.

As you come down from the high, you realize you're still clinging to him, fingers deep on his muscular shoulders, your breaths coming in hiccups. Soonyoung pulls his fingers out of you, and you feel a pang of loss.

Your legs feel like jelly, and you can barely stand. Soonyoung catches you, pulling you close. 

Soonyoung's eyes rake over you, his smirk widening as he takes in the sight of your trembling legs. “You're trembling,” he chuckle. His gaze drops to the slick mess between your thighs, and he bites his lip, clearly reveling in the sight. “Better than this... you're literally dripping,” appreciating. 

He lets your leg down, holding you firmly as he guides you back onto the bed. The plush mattress sinks under your weight.

“God forgive me,” he continues, “but if our mothers weren't in that dressing room that day, I would've fucked you right there in the store. With that princess veil of yours... I would've pinned you against the mirror and made you scream my name.”

Your mouth falls open. The image of him taking you into that bridal shop, surrounded by white lace and satin, ​​hitting you like a punch to the gut.

You're not sure what shocks you more: his bold declaration or the way your body reacts to it, growing wetter with every word.

He smirks at your reaction.

“What's the matter, princess? Cat got your tongue?" He teases. His fingers slip under the waistband of your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs. “Or are you just too turned on to speak?"

He's right; you're completely at his mercy, unable to form a coherent thought, let alone a response.

He strips off his shirt, revealing the sculpted lines of his torso, then shucks off his shorts. His erection strains against the fabric of his boxers, and he groans, closing his eyes and tilting his head back as he palms himself.

“I could've fucked you on that altar,” he visualize. "In front of all those guests. Just to show everyone that no matter how arranged this marriage was, you're mine. No one else's.”

He opens his eyes, locking onto yours. “I would've spread you open right there, had you screaming my name, showing them all who you belong to."

His dirty words, the way he claims you with every syllable, makes your head spin.

Soonyoung's hand moves over his bulge, his eyes never leaving yours. “You don't even know how much I've wanted you,” he hisses. “How much I want to fuck you senseless, make you mine in every way.”

He leans over you, his breath hot against your ear. “And tonight, I'm going to do just that. I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll forget about everyone else. Just me, and this cock inside you, filling you up until you can't think straight.”

You squirm, your body responding to his filthy promises. You can't tear your eyes away from him, your mind racing with the possibilities of what the night holds. 

Soonyoung's fingers brush against the hem of your dress, and you shudder at the contact. “Take it off,” he orders, his voice rough. “I want you naked, spread out on this bed, ready for me.” His eyes bore into yours, and you know he's not just asking—he's demanding. 

You slip your dress over your head, tossing it aside as you finally catch sight of Soonyoung completely naked. His hand moves over his erection, the cockhead glistening with precum. The sight makes you lick your lips.

“Can you—” he starts to ask, but you cut him off, not needing him to finish.

“Yes!” you nearly moan. His eyes darken, a smirk playing on his lips as you drop to your knees in front of him.

You take a moment to appreciate the sight before you. His cock is thick and veined, the head an angry red, glossy with precum. You can almost taste it just from looking.

Tentatively, you lean in and press a soft kiss to the tip, tasting the salty precum on your tongue. It's musky and slightly bitter, but it makes you want to choke on this cock. You swirl your tongue around the head, savoring the taste and the way his breath hitches above you.

Soonyoung's hand tangles in your hair, guiding you closer. “Yes, baby,” he groans, his voice thick with need. “Just like that.”

Encouraged by his reaction, you take him deeper into your mouth, your lips stretching around his girth. The texture of his cock is smooth yet rigid, the veins pulsating against your tongue. You hollow your cheeks, creating a tight seal as you bob your head, taking more of him with each movement.

His hips jerk forward involuntarily, and you hear a strangled moan escape his lips. “Shit, that feels so good,” he pants, his grip on your hair tightening. You look up at him through your lashes, your eyes meeting his. The sight of him looking down at you, his face twisted in pleasure, spurs you on.

You slide your hand up his thigh, wrapping it around the base of his cock to stroke what you can't fit in your mouth. Your other hand cups his balls, gently massaging them as you continue to suck him. 

You hum around his length, sending vibrations through him. He shudders, a deep groan rumbling from his chest. “You're so fucking good at this,” he praises, his voice breathless. “So eager, so perfect.”

You moan around his cock at the praise. You take him deeper, pushing your limits as you feel him hit the back of your throat. You gag slightly but push through, wanting to please him, wanting to show him how much you want this.

“Y/N,” he gasps, his hips bucking forward again. “You're going to make me cum if you keep doing that.”His voice is strained, you don't know if he's warning you or if he's desperate.

You don't let up, doubling your efforts. You suck harder, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head every time you pull back. Your hand continues to pump the base of his cock, matching the rhythm of your mouth. You can feel him throbbing, his cock pulsing with need.

Soonyoung's moans grow louder, more desperate. His breaths come in uneven pants, his body tense with the need for release. “Fuck, Y/N, I'm so close,” he warns, his voice breaking.

You look up at him, your eyes locking with his as you take him even deeper. You want to see him come undone, to watch him lose control because of you. You feel his cock twitch in your mouth, and with one last swirl of your tongue, he lets out a choked moan.

He comes hard, his hips jerking as he spills into your mouth. The taste of his release floods your senses, warm and salty. You swallow every drop, savoring the way he trembles above you. His hand in your hair tightens, holding you in place as he rides out his orgasm.

His hand gently strokes your hair after, a contrast to the rough grip from moments before. You pull back, licking your lips and savoring the last taste of him.

He lifts you up effortlessly, his lips crashing into yours. He doesn't care that his cock was just in your mouth seconds ago or that his cum lingers on your tongue. The taste of himself on your lips makes him moan, the sound vibrating between you.

After a moment, he pulls back, one hand wrapping around your throat, not tight but firm enough to make you feel his presence. His eyes bore into yours, as he licks his sensitive lips.

“You were sucking me so good,” he rasps, “that I almost said ‘I love you’.” 

A laugh bursts out of you, hearty and genuine, and he watches you with a smirk. 

“I swear,” he continues, his tone playful. “if I'd known marrying you would come with benefits like this, I would've done it way sooner.” “I feel like I owe you something after that blowjob,” he says, his voice dropping into a deeper, more sultry tone.

You bite your lip, a dirty thought flashing through your mind, and Soonyoung picks up on it immediately. Soonyoung's gaze narrows, reading the filth in your expression

“What is it? What do you want?” he asks excitedly.

“Can you fuck me… doggy style?” you ask.

“Yes, I can,” The corners of his mouth twitch, barely holding back a grin.

You look up, pretending to be lost in thought, then say, “Can you fuck me in missionary?”

He nods again, biting his lip, his grip on your throat tightening just a little.

“Can you fuck me inside… the shower?” 

He presses you tightly against him, his hand gripping your waist possessively, but your gaze still eating him whole. 

“I can fuck you upside down, sideways, any way you want, baby,” he answers, his voice steady and confident. “Just say the word, and I'll make it happen.”

You moan in response. Too early to say that you're already dumb for his cock?

“Get on all fours and lift that pretty ass for me.”

As you crawl up the bed, you make sure to put on a show. You arch your back, lifting your ass higher, giving Soonyoung the view he wants. You wiggle it a little, teasing him. 

The motion makes your pussy lips part slightly, already slick and ready for him. You can feel his eyes on you, burning with thirst. Without warning, his hand comes down hard on your ass, the sharp sting making you gasp. You let out a yelp. You know that mark will be there tomorrow, like a postmark, like a stamp, like a reminder of this moment, and the thought makes you even wetter.

He moves behind you, the bed dipping under his weight. You feel his hands on your hips, gripping you firmly as he positions himself. You can't help but push back against him, seeking more contact.

“So fucking perfect,” he mutters, running his hands over the curves of your ass, squeezing the flesh and kneading it roughly. He spreads you open, taking in the sight of your wetness.  “Look at how ready you are for me. You're dripping, baby.”

You moan, pushing back against him, desperate for more. “Please, Soonyoung, I need you.”

“Fuck, you sound so desperate,” he taunts, positioning himself behind you. His cock slides against your folds, teasing you, making you whimper. “Beg for it. Beg for my cock.”

“Please, Soonyoung, fuck me,” you whine. “I need your cock inside me, please. I can’t wait any longer.”

He doesn't tease, doesn't make you wait any longer. He thrusts in with one hard, deep stroke, filling you completely. The sudden intrusion makes you cry out, a slight discomfort as your walls stretch around him. But it makes your toes curl. 

“God, you’re so tight,” he groans, gripping your hips as he starts to move. “So fucking tight and wet for me. You feel that? That’s my cock stretching your pussy.”

You moan loudly, the pleasure building with each thrust. “Yes, Soonyoung, I feel it. It feels so good. Fuck me harder.”

He picks up the pace, his hips snapping against yours, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. He reaches around, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing it in tight, fast circles. The sudden burst of pleasure makes you gasp, your body jolting.

He pulls back slowly, only to slam back in, setting a rough, punishing rhythm, making you roll your eyes back.

He's so deep, hitting spots you didn't even know existed. Each thrust makes you see stars, and you can't help but moan loudly, not caring if the entire hotel hears you. The stretch, the fullness, it's all so overwhelming, so fucking good.

“Come on,” he urges, voice a low growl. “Cum for me, baby. Let me feel you squeeze this cock.”

It's all too much. The feel of his cock, his fingers on your clit, the dirty words spilling from his lips—it all sends you over the edge. The second orgasm of the night making you feel already exhausted. Your voice hoarse, as you feel yourself sloppier between your legs. 

There's no mercy in his movements; he's fucking you through your high, pushing you beyond your limits. Each time he hits your cervix, a sharp jolt of pleasure-pain ripples through you, making your arms tremble uncontrollably.

You try to hold yourself up, but your strength falters. With a soft cry, your arms give out, and your chest falls against the bed. Soonyoung lets out a low chuckle, a smug grin spreading across his face as he watches you crumble beneath him. Even with your body slack, you're impossibly tight around him, your pussy squeezing him like a vice. 

Soonyoung’s hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he continues to pound into you from behind. You can feel his cock throbbing inside you, stretching you, making your walls clench involuntarily around him. 

He leans over you, his breath hot against your ear, and you can hear the pride in his voice as he coos, “Aww, look at you. So fucking helpless, so fucking wrecked. You can’t even hold yourself up, can you?” 

You can barely muster a response, a breathy whimper escaping your lips as you feel the tears start to stream down your cheeks. It’s an almost incredulous feeling, the tears mixing with the sweat on your face. 

You’ve never been fucked like this before, never been pushed to the brink and then beyond, your body betraying you as it trembles under his control. It’s a raw, visceral experience that leaves you gasping for air, your mind a hazy blur of feel.

Soonyoung notices the tears, and his smirk grows wider. “Look at you, crying for me,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “Is it too much, baby? Too fucking good? Love being fucked so hard you can’t even think straight?” 

His hand moves from your hip to your hair, tangling his fingers in it and pulling your head back, forcing you to arch your back even more. The angle shifts, and he hits that perfect spot inside you, making you moan loudly, your voice cracking with the intensity of it all.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans, his hips snapping forward with even more force. “God, you’re squeezing me so fucking hard. It’s like your pussy doesn’t want to let me go.” He punctuates his words with deep, hard thrusts that leave you reeling, each one sending a jolt of pleasure-pain through your body.

“So pretty when you cry,” he continues, his tone almost taunting. “I could do this all day, just watch you fall apart on my cock” His words are filthy, degrading, but they ignite something inside you, a desperate need for more. 

The way he speaks to you, the way he claims you with each word and each thrust, is addictive.

You can’t hold back your sobs. “Please,” you manage to choke out, not even sure what you’re begging for anymore. 

More, less, anything—just something to ease the dizzying sensation coursing through you.

He laughs softly, a dark, knowing sound that makes your skin prickle. “Please what, baby? You want me to stop? You want me to fuck you harder?” 

He pulls out almost completely, the emptiness leaving you gasping, and then slams back in with a force that makes your whole body jolt.

“You’re so fucking greedy. Can’t get enough, can you? You want this cock to ruin you, want me to fuck you so good you’ll feel it for days.”

All you can do is moan and sob, your body shuddering with each thrust as he pounds into you. The bed creaks under the force of his movements, it’s dirty, raw, and utterly nasty.

“Gonna make you cum again,” he murmurs, his voice a dark promise. 

And as you feel the tension building inside you again, that familiar coil of pleasure tightening in your belly—you know he’s right.

He lays you gently on the bed, your back sinking into the mattress. Your face, flushed and glistening with sweat, looks completely wrecked, completely exhausted. Soonyoung feels a brief flicker of pity, but it quickly dissipates as you babble out your dirty words, barely coherent but dripping with need. “Please... Soonyoung... more, need you so bad... fuck…”

He smirks, spreading your wobbly legs apart, exposing the slick, swollen mess between them. “You can barely form a sentence, and yet you still want more.”

He slides his cock back inside you, stretching you open once more. 

Soonyoung's thumb finds your clit again, and he begins to work it in slow, light-touch circles. The sensation is maddening, a delicious contrast to the deep, methodical thrusts of his cock. 

He watches your face intently, drinking in every expression, every gasp and whimper."That's it, baby," he coos. “Let me see that pretty face when you cum.”

You can barely keep your eyes open, your body overly sensitive from the previous orgasms, but he doesn't let up.

His other hand moves to your chest, fondling your breast, his fingers pinching and rolling your nipple before sliding up to wrap around your throat. This time, the grip is firm, real, and you can feel the delicious pressure as he chokes you just enough to make your head spin.

He leans in closer, his eyes never leaving your face. 

You cling to him, your arms wrapping tightly around his body, pulling him closer as if you could merge with him, become one. The scent of sweat and skin mingling in the air—it all consumes you. 

Your body is trembling, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your core, a white-hot band of pressure that threatens to snap. Soonyoung's moans are louder now, but they seem distant, like they're coming from underwater, muffled by the roaring in your ears.

His pace quickens, and you feel yourself losing control, your mind slipping away from the physical world. The room, the bed, even Soonyoung—all of it fades into the background. 

There's only the blinding, all-encompassing pleasure that fills every nerve, every cell in your body. It's like being pulled under a wave, the sensation crashing over you with a force that's almost violent.

Your thighs tremble uncontrollably, and you can feel the muscles in your abdomen clenching, the buildup to your orgasm reaching its peak.

And then, it hits. The climax rips through you, a white-hot explosion that leaves you gasping, the world narrowing down to the blinding sensation of pure, unadulterated pleasure. 

Your back arches off the bed, your mouth opening in a silent scream as your vision goes white. The intensity is mind-numbing, erasing everything else from your mind except the overwhelming euphoria that pulses through you.

Your body shakes with the force of it, your legs quivering, toes curling as the pleasure radiates outward from your core. You can feel the slickness between your thighs, the way your walls flutter and squeeze around Soonyoung, pulling him deeper inside you. 

Soonyoung's name falls from your lips in a choked sob, your voice hoarse and trembling. 

You slowly come back to reality, feeling the weight of Soonyoung's body on top of you, his cum warm and sticky between your bellies.

Soonyoung pants loudly, trying to catch his breath. He lifts his head slightly to look at you, concern flickering in his eyes despite the satisfied smile on his lips. “You okay, wifey?” he asks.

You manage a weak smile, still feeling the aftershocks of your intense orgasm. “I’m okay, hubby,”

His smile widens, and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Good,” he murmurs. “You were amazing.”

You chuckle softly, the sound a bit strained. “You weren’t too bad yourself,” you tease, your hand coming up to rest on his back, feeling the muscles still taut from effort.

He laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating against your own. “Glad I could satisfy my wife on our first night together,” 

“Think we should clean up?” Soonyoung asks after a while.

“Probably,” you agree, though neither of you makes a move to get up just yet. You’re too content, too wrapped up in the warmth and comfort of each other’s presence.

Eventually, with a reluctant sigh, Soonyoung shifts, carefully pulling away from you. The cool air hits your skin, making you shiver slightly. He helps you sit up, his hands gentle and supportive as you both make your way to the bathroom.

The weight of the wedding ring on your finger feels heavier now, more symbolic than ever. It’s not just a piece of jewelry; it’s a constant reminder of the commitment you’ve made and the life you’re building together.

Soonyoung, despite his own exhaustion, is kneeling beside the tub, gently washing you. His focused expression as he works to make sure you’re clean and comfortable. The sight of him, so dedicated and caring, makes your heart swell.

You feel a pang of guilt as you see the tiredness etched on his face, a reminder of how much he’s given for you, both physically and emotionally. Your legs, still trembling from the aftermath of the passion, had given up on you, leaving you reliant on him. The thought of him taking care of you, even in his weariness, makes you feel both grateful and a bit ashamed.

“Hey,” you say softly, reaching out to gently touch his arm. “You don’t have to do this. I can manage on my own.”

Soonyoung looks up at you, his eyes softening as he smiles. “I want to,” he says quietly. “You took care of me earlier, and now it’s my turn to take care of you. Besides, it’s kind of nice, being able to do this for you.”

You look him in the eye and sense the truth in his words. His warm, comforting smile belies the weariness that is evident in the lines on his face. 

[...]

As you and Soonyoung lie together in bed, the room is quiet except for the soft rustling of the sheets and the occasional sigh from either of you. The memories of what just happened still lingers in the air, making both of you feel a bit shy and stunned.

As Soonyoung lays his head on your chest, you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. He sighs contentedly, his fingers lightly tracing patterns around your breast. 

“So,” he begins, his voice tinged with both surprise and a hint of playfulness, “when I hinted at what I wanted, I honestly didn’t think you'd go for it. I was kind of... hoping, but also preparing for a rejection.”

You chuckle softly, your fingers running through his hair. “Oh really? And why not?”

“Well, for one, you’re ridiculously hot. I didn’t think you’d be that into it right off the bat.”

You giggle, feeling a rush of confidence. “Oh, come on. Why wouldn’t I? You’re hot, and let’s be honest, you knew exactly what you were doing.”

“Damn, so you think I’m hot, huh? And here I was thinking I’d have to put in a little more effort.” He rises to look at you, but you make him lay again, your cheeks flushed.

“I can’t believe we managed to go from ‘I do’ to ‘Let’s fuck’ in just a few days. We really don’t waste any time, do we?” You say, grinning. 

“Yeah, I guess I underestimated how much I’d resist you, but I knew I was in trouble from the moment we got married… I thought I’d be a strong soldier, holding out a bit longer.”

He hums thinking. 

“I’m surprised I managed to hold out for as long as I did.” he finishes.

You raise an eyebrow, a naughty smile playing on your lips. "Well, I guess you’re not as disciplined as you thought. Seems like you fell for me quicker than you’d like to admit.”

Soonyoung’s eyes sparkle. “You’ve got me completely hooked.”

You let out a dramatic sigh, your hand resting on his cheek. “Poor soldier. Captured by the enemy and all. What will you do now?”

He leans in, brushing his lips against yours in a tender kiss. "I guess I’ll just have to surrender to you completely.”

“Even the strongest can fall. And let’s be real, I’m pretty good at making sure my soldiers surrender.” You shrugged, smirking. 

He bursts into laughter, shaking his head in disbelief. “Damn, you really know how to make a guy feel like a total pushover.”

“I plan on keeping you hooked, you know—well, at least until the next time we have a ‘conversation’ like tonight."

“Well, if this is what marriage looks like, I think I’m going to enjoy every minute of it.”

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One Direction fics where one character hates everyone but the other half of the pairing as requested in this ask. You can find part 1 of this rec here. You can find my other fic recs here. Please leave kudos and comments for the writers! Happy reading!

- Louis / Harry -

❤️ Saving You by Snowy38

(E, 90k, sex work) Harry is being bought by Louis not for the night but for good and his testing ways push Louis to the limit...

❤️ These High Walls by LarryAlways28

(E, 68k, omegaverse) He was the ideal son - until he presented as an Omega. Now, barely a year after his old man dropped dead and running the family company, if he makes a mistake with the Tomlinson and Sons merger and acquisition, it's game over.

❤️ go ahead, rip my heart out if that's what love's all about (series) by wildestdreams / @thelavendrhaze

(E, 40k, small town) Louis is the town troublemaker and everyone hates him except for Harry.

❤️ Hidden Gardens by pinky_heaven19

(M, 41k, friends to lovers) the one where Louis owns a pub and Harry is a photographer who needs his help for a project. Louis is grumpy, Harry is not. Louis has a secret. There is some pining and a lot of fluff.

❤️ You're Not My Type (still I fall) by Imogenlee / @imogenleewriter

(M, 38k, omegaverse) that was the same stubborn attitude that got him here: in his car, in a thunderstorm, on the side of a forsaken lane of some little countryside town in Yorkshire.

❤️ A Road To Something Better by @taggiecb

(E, 25k, small town) Louis Tomlinson, famous romance novelist, has just had the rug pulled out from under his feet when his boyfriend leaves him without notice. What's the most appropriate response to this? Move a thousand miles away and seclude himself in a tiny lake town, of course. 

❤️ Fate Had Other Plans by Snowy38

(E, 25k, Christmas) Louis Tomlinson books into a remote Ski Lodge in Austria to avoid everyone at Christmas. He is looking forward to his bah-humbug lonely Christmas when Harry Styles 'breaks into' his lodge and ruins his plans with his happy, sociable nature...

❤️ Behind Smoke Stained Curtains by @jaerie

(E, 19k, omegaverse) The worlds align when Louis meets an alpha from the road with as many secrets as he holds himself.

❤️ When You Know by @allwaswell16

(E, 17k, assassin Louis) Years of living in the shadows has taken its toll on Louis Tomlinson. When he’s offered a chance to leave behind his life as a hired assassin, he intends to take it.

❤️ Does it Ever Drive You Crazy? (Just How Fast the Night Changes) by xx_soup_xx

(G, 7k, Christmas) Baker Harry Styles takes it upon himself to get his mysterious grumpy customer, Louis Tomlinson, to like Christmas by taking him on a disastrous first date.

❤️ you cured my january blues (yeah you made it all alright) by writtensoul

(NR, 7k, pet store) louis is a lonely old soul with nothing to keep him company but his wild, albeit dry humor - and maybe the pretty boy who works at the pet store down the road. 

❤️ Good-Old Fashioned Lover Boy by not_fitzwilliam / @not-fitzwilliam-darcy

(NR, 5k, omegaverse) When a miscalculated decision leads to an accidental courtship with the sweetest, most gentle alpha, Harry is torn between breaking the alpha's heart and telling the truth. 

❤️ 'Sno(w) joke by SunTomato / @sun-tomato

(NR, 5k, library) The last thing Louis wanted was to get stranded on his birthday. But perhaps it was exactly what he needed.

❤️ i'll breathe your air into my lungs by blizzies

(T, 5k, high school) five phases of their relationship in a world where harry smokes a lot and skips school and hates everyone except his boyfriend and louis is in plays and is loved by everyone and they work even though nobody gets how.

❤️ The Bookshop by Humphrey

(NR, 4k, bookshop) Harry just wants to buy some books. Louis is a very rude bookshop owner.

❤️ Alone and Back Again by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 4k, omegaverse) what does one do when a feral alpha shows up in town ready to be executed?

- Rare Pairs -

❤️ You Should Probably Stay (a Couple More Days) by transteverogers

(E, 8k, Zayn/Liam) Zayn is one of the top richest business owners in London but he's also one of the loneliest at just the age of 27. He's grumpy and serious all of the time at work, but when he get home he's sad and desperate for something or more like someone. 

❤️ Kind of Tough to Tell a Scruff (Stand and Deliver) by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships

(M, 4k, Louis/Nick Grimshaw) In which Nick moves north and Louis lives next door.

[octuscle]

Always, really love your methods of reality changes. It's usually something unexpected and I need some unforeseen changes for this new year! Chronivac Support, can you help me and add some more bros into my small circle friends? All the way back when I was in high school you know? Gymbros, jockbros, musclebros, all the bros you can fit in me!

Well… A little bro influence might do you some good. I'm sorry, but you're a fat piece of shit with a dropped out computer science degree who spends all day in front of the computer and still lives with his parents. But we can change that…

Do you still remember David? Your best friend when you were a junior in high school. You spent hours playing Dungeons and Dragons. That didn't just awaken your love of role-playing games and later computer games. You also have him to thank for your love of potato chips and other junk food.

Dave was your best buddy back in high school. You spent hours roaming the woods in your neighborhood and only came home when it was dark. You would have loved to spend the night with Dave in your self-built cabins…

Your man cave in your parents' cellar, where you still live, becomes a professional craft room. You love to repair things. And you love working in the great outdoors. Your parents' garden is the best kept in the whole neighborhood.

When Dave's parents moved away, you were pretty unhappy. But then you met Sean as a freshman in college. He's a real fine spirit. You talked a lot about poetry and also wrote poems yourselves. That got you good grades in English, French and art history, your main subject.

Do you remember how you met Shawn on your first day at college? The worst bully at his high school. You bumped into him, he tried to hit you, but rather by accident you countered so well that he went down. Not really a good start, but that was your start to a brilliant career in the rugby team.

Something's not working with your parents' heating system. You go back to them after work at your air conditioning company. How angry they were with you when you switched from art history to mechanical engineering. Today they are very grateful.

Shawn and you were inseparable. Of course, it was a woman who came between you. And suddenly Shawn was a miserable henpecked husband. During that time, you concentrated more on your studies. That wasn't bad either. And Matthew was a great friend to prepare for the exam with.

Matt was the hottest guy on campus. Every bro wanted to be like him. Every girl wanted to go to bed with him. Sure, you were teammates. But you never actually thought anything would happen between you. Damn the night Matt spent the night at your place for the first time, you remember with a grin. At some point, he went to the toilet naked in the middle of the night. And you saw the beast dangling between his legs. While Matt was pissing, you were wanking. And then Matt came back. And then you wanked together. And then at some point you fucked for the first time.

Of course it sucks that Matt travels around the world to accompany mergers and acquisitions of tech start-ups. But as an expert in the development and operation of wind farms, you have to jet around the world just as much. Sometimes you just meet up at an airport and can coordinate flights with a lot of effort so that there's enough time for a quick shag in the airport toilet. But maybe that's the secret of why your relationship works so well…

The picture of you on the way to the airport toilet found @sarge555

[elenor222]

A Kendall Roy (Succession) Series

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: faint mentions of established relationship, sexual tension. All characters are of age. This story is 18+.

part 1

NEW YORK

3.12 AM

Emily stares at the white flushed screen of the newest shitop available in the market. She’s deciphering the flow of the shares today. Her glasses are turning blue with all the big numbers and the emails flowing through the system. There’s an untouched tumbler of souvenir matcha sitting on her desk. Her room’s illuminated a pale white with white lilies on her nightstand and an empty buzz from her phone. Emily rubs her temple, according to the entire finance department of Waystar, the Roys will take the company down with them by a decade. The lavish living and black dog services come with a price. A price they’ve long since forgotten to repay. Emily grunts and bites back her tongue. She looks up at the cerulean walls of her home painted with the same blood as them. Her chestnut eyes gleam, she dreams of Sicily and lush cherries. Bruised corridors and bluer skin. She turns towards the New York sky, cracking her knuckles and wonders how ground hog criminal she must’ve been to witness the corporate red with her own hands.

The next morning, a tall man with pale beach skin and visibly rich eye bags sits with four or five of his advisors and a bunch of younger executives. Emily does not accompany them. She stalls in her own office looking at the sugary buyout. She’s about ninety percent sure that Lawrence, the eldest son’s new venture, will and soon fuck Waystar. She lets out a giddy laugh in her mind and stays put at her cabin, chivalry gleaming in her eyes. Her posture is sleek, not too laid back but neither very professional. Kendall, suited up with cocaine in his back pocket, looks engaged, and rightly denounced, a little too lively.  

“This is a merger offer. Not an acquisition. We love what you do.” Kendall appears really passionate about the deal going through. His hands are clammy. He stares right through the upturned eye of the media guy.

“I get it. Of course, someone is always boss. And I don’t think that would be me?”

Kendall’s eyes briefly meet Emily. She’s intensely watching how this playdate plays out. Kendall can’t seem to focus between her glass of white wine at 11 am and that too tight white skirt riding up her thigh. He pretends to fix his tie. Hands imitating her face full of his length. He’s gone. Lilacs and bright Italian skies take over his vision. He’s sucking in another breath. So gone.

Kendall nullifies the rest of the conversation from his head. His eyes juggling between his two memento moris. There seems to a notable disagreement though, Emily senses it before she sees it. Her lip twitches as Lawrence stands up to leave. Kendall abruptly follows, seemingly surprised at the turn of the events. They walk next to each other down the wide corridor that border glass offices with venetian blinds on each side. He’s even wearing those knuckle deep expensive boardroom shoes, Emily peeks. Kendall steals a glance before the elevator door dings. She’s looking back at him with remorse. Soon, Lawrence whispers something inexcusable in his ear and the board sees him visibly loose his composure. He leaves the floor’s eyeshot rattled in fury.

LONDON

10 AM

“It’s inappropriate. It’s a fitness, thing. It’s - it’s basically a heart rate monitor. It’s a fucking abortion.” A broad shoulder man squeals. “is that what you give your 80 year soon to be father in law? To your boss? As a gesture of obeisance? When you’re looking for promotion? Or is that, say, like giving him a colostomy bag and a viagra? The optics are fucking horrible.” He keeps rambling on to the redhead beside him. She takes no notice of the priced-up suit or her satin shirt shining in the harsh auburn sun. Two black Mercedes line up bedside them.

Shiv, instead, is focused on a text.

Shiv: you coming?

Em: maybe :/

“Tom. It’s fine. Yeah, my Dad doesn’t really like things.” She advises him to throw ten to fifteen grand at some posh shop that sells sea shells. She’s staring at her phone with pursed lips.

NEW YORK

1PM

  “So, last call guys. We happy?” Kendall frantically looks around his team. Emily sits there looking uninterested at their long faces and sheets of robbery. Jess took an appointment, filing “wife needed for support” for her to be there. Back in the day, rose would’ve tainted her cheeks. Now, she only sits there. Stoic, unimpressed. She knows all too well that this was just another tactic for her to see him win. He’s bitter. And he hopes she knows.

Frank reassures him, ”If the committee play straight, we win. If they don’t, we go legal.”

“And we don’t want to just bump the number another point?” Young Alessandro, the investment banker looks towards Emily almost questioning the authority of her presence.

“You’ve already over ridden your Bali beach numbers. Although, I can give you an extra mil to demonstrate a knuckle fuck to Frank” Emily looks Kendall dead in the eye as if scolding a child. She crosses her legs and sits up straighter. Alessandro witnesses the change in power dynamics.

“You wanna call your Dad?” Alessandro offers.

Kendall looks like someone’s punched him in the nuts but he refuses to react. Emily only juts out her lips. She’s almost on the verge of enacting the scenes from their college days. Kendall gives her a so much so a threating look in response. His eyes dart to her mulberry pink lips. His mind fickle enough, churns him back to those same hot days with Emily on her knees.

 “Do I want to call my Dad?” he glares at the board.

“No” he comprehends. “I don’t want to call my Dad.”

“Do you want to call your Dad?” he bites back.  

“Does anyone want to call their Dad?” Silence surrounds the cascading white room except the timely tapping of Emily’s jimmy choos.

“Okay. No one wants to talk to thier Dad. So, let’s get in there, buy this fucking company and go top ten, shall we? I’m pushing the bid to 120. Okay?” Emily lets out a sigh in disapproval. Kendall pays no mind to her wandering gaze down his body. She wonders how she can put this in the mad bear’s plate without pissing him off.

1 AM

“What’s the number?” logan’s call disrupts Kendall in the midnight. Kendall did know, there was going to be consequences to raising the bid. He only hoped Emily had flower petaled logans fuck over shoes to bendable China. He dabs his forehead with a white tea cloth to soothe his nerves.

“I’m going to one twenty.” He intakes a sharp breath, eyes blown and sitting upright. he prays that his quaver of tone isn’t detectable. He fists his bedsheet into a stress ball. A minute goes by where you can hear the chaotic New York night pass by. He’s untouchable; how does the teen spirit bubblegum wrath seep in?  He speaks further in a fever dream, “Good. Look are we still good for tomorrow? Today?”

“Uh-huh. Yeah.” Logan is tapping away on his mouse. Unfocused eyes cram in all the emails from the week.

“Cos it’s gonna get out there?” Kendall’s eyes twinkle. They perfectly reflect the times square brightness.

“We’ll announce.” Logan rolls his eyes. His right hand is reaching for the will in his drawer.

“Great, so I can pre-floating to like Frank and Emily? If I need to. Cos it’s getting soft-floated.” The line goes dead. Kendall closes his eyes. He’s breathing raggedly. Theres a voice in the back of his head telling him he’s going to fuck it up. He blinks. Hard.

authors note: engagement of any sort is greatly appreciated. will try to update the next part this week itself <3

part 2

[sgiandubh]

A book

In a sea of #silly and contentiously politicized Hollywood memoirs, Lynda Obst's Sleepless in Hollywood: Tales from the New Abnormal in the Movie Business is a glaring, very useful exception.

The woman knows her trade and she really has nothing to prove, after a very rich career as a cinema and TV producer, that took her from Flashdance to Sleepless in Seattle to Interstellar, one step (and sometimes even one flop) at a time.

Having just started to read it in earnest, I was pleasantly surprised to find perhaps the best explanation for ***'s insistence to promote BOMB as a viable project after OL is over. The roots of the problem are not limited to its particular situation (future merger/acquisition, post-strike context, etc.). They are much older and have everything to do with a business model that has been used since at least the early 2010's, first in the movie business and (more and more) now in TV productions.

You will forgive the long quote. It's worth it:

In other words, expect less and less quality content, in a business landscape looking more and more to milk an already captive audience of their hard-earned buck. And invest less and less in script and talent, precisely because the recipe for success is not unlike those three-ingredient cookies Tick-Tock is apparently so fond of.

The simple fact Disney was one of the main proponents and promoters of this (abysmal) business model is, of course, a coincidence. As is the very insistent use of the term 'tentpole', when directly referencing OL, in ***'s shareholder reports.

This confirms my prior analysis and I take no pride, nor joy in writing it. OL is (still is) ***'s strongest asset and main sale argument. I should only hope Season 8 will not completely bastardize what started as something that could really have reached for the stars. And this has nothing to do with S and C: they went above and beyond what was expected. Because magic is magic, even if you try to dim or mutilate it.

[just-another-josh]

Kara

Today is a good day.

No, today is a great day.

Lena continued to remind herself of that over the course of the last two hours.

It was an incredibly important day for her and her wife. Not just that, it was an important day for their family’s legacy. Today was one of those milestone days, the type that signified potential fully realized, the recognition of years of hard work and achievement. A cause for celebration with champagne, victory speeches, and overindulgent parties.

Lena knew this, she believed this.

And yet, all she wanted to do right now was punch Cat Grant in her stupid, Botoxed face.

Four months ago, Cat pulled Kara aside after a CatCo staff meeting and informed her EIC that she intended to run for president in the next election. “If a Cheeto-skinned, glorified game show host can become President of the United States, I should be a shoo-in,” she had reasoned with her. In order to avoid any blind trust complications and because presidential campaigns are very expensive, Cat decided to put CatCo Worldwide Media up for sale.

Lena was greeted by an ugly-crying Kryptonian when she arrived home that night. Cat’s departure was a double blow to her wife: Not only was Kara losing her mentor, but now she had to contend with a new owner who may or may not share the same journalistic integrity as Cat. Nightmares of another Andrea Rojas or Morgan Edge-like monster lording over the bullpen kept the hero up into the early morning hours after Cat dropped her bombshell.

Lena made a solid effort to reassure her wife that everything would work out for the best but when the company was put on the market the next Monday morning, the announcement quickly led to Lena’s assurances becoming hollow promises.

By the end of the week, the bidding war for the media giant had been whittled down to three frontrunners:

Roland Daggett: owner of Daggett Industries with reported ties to organized crime in Gotham.

Simon Stagg: owner of Stagg Enterprises who was currently involved in no-less than a dozen federal investigations for improper disposal of waste generated from his chemical plants.

The final bidder was no stranger to National City or the Superfriends; Maxwell Lord: owner of Lord Technologies and an all-around asshole, who appeared to have crawled out from whatever rock he’d been hiding under.

Lena knew that none of these parasites gave a damn about the fourth estate, nor would they want Supergirl watching over their shoulders while they engaged in whatever reprehensible activities men of their caliber got up to. Lena had no doubt that they’d use CatCo to steer whatever narratives that would profit them the most; much like Morgan Edge intended to do six years prior.

Bottomline, Kara was going to be out of a job if any of those criminals got their hands on CatCo.

Kara did everything she could to talk Cat out of selling to any of them, but Cat had no other viable candidates to sell to. Kara spent the better part of ten days straight trying to get Cat to see reason but was met with failure at every turn. Lena watched Kara sink further into depression as the days passed and it broke her heart.

On day eleven, Lena had had enough of watching her wife suffer. She had Jess arrange an emergency meeting with her finance and mergers/acquisitions department heads. There was only one item of business on the agenda, did L-Corp have enough in its coffers to purchase CatCo. She knew acquiring the media giant was going to cost a lot more than it did when she stole it out from under Morgan Edge. Luckily, the answer was a resounding yes. Since regaining her position as CEO of L-Corp, Lena had led the company to an unprecedented level of profitability. A proposal was quickly drafted. The minutia of the proposal was almost identical to the last time L-Corp purchased the conglomerate, save for one big difference: Kara, not Lena, would be named CEO of CatCo Worldwide Media; not just the print media, but TV, streaming, and online content.

Proposal in hand, it took Lena the better part of the evening (and early morning) to convince her wife that she was fully capable of doing the job. Hell, she’d been doing it for the last eighteen months as Cat became less involved in the day-to-day operations. Kara’s objections to Lena spending Lena’s money to save Kara’s job were quickly shot down, “You forget darling, it’s not my money, it’s our money. We’re married, what’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine, you dork.” Finally seeing the light, Lena sent her wife to deliver the proposal directly to Cat; it took her less than twelve hours to accept their offer and approve moving forward with the sale. To say that she was relieved that L-Corp, and by extension Lena and Kara, would be running the company that she built with her own blood, sweat, and tears would be an understatement.

Now, Lena sat in CatCo’s executive conference room. Kara seated to her right, Jess to her left, and half of L-Corp’s legal department bracketing them. On the other side of the table, Cat, and her legal team. Lena had been fortunate enough to avoid attending the negotiation meetings in person; instead choosing to have her attorneys there as her proxies. Occasionally, she’d join the proceedings remotely whenever her two cents was needed. Today, however, was the big day. All the principles needed to be on-hand to sign the final contracts. Lena was initially excited to finalize the deal; if for no other reason than to see the beaming smile her wife had been sporting all day turn brighter than the sun.

Her excitement was quickly tempered when they stepped into Kara’s office and were greeted by Cat with a “Good morning, Mrs. Luthor. Good morning, Kiera.” Lena would have done a spit-take had she been drinking anything at the time. For a moment, she tried to convince herself that she had misheard her. That theory was quickly thrown out the window when Cat called Kara “Kiera” three more times before they reached the conference room. By the time they sat at the conference table to go over the final details before signing, Lena was seething.

After taking several deep breaths and getting her blood pressure under control, Lena tried to mentally talk herself down from doing or saying anything rash. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard Cat address Kara by that name, but it was the first time that it got under her skin. Why? Hormones. She was five months pregnant with twin Kryptonian girls.

For the most part, the pregnancy had been uneventful; after the hell that was first trimester, of course. She’d adjusted to the rollercoaster of emotions, eating 15,000 calories a day to keep her and her baby girls nourished, and the near constant fatigue. Most days, she basked in the experience of being an expectant mother; the flutter of kicks throughout the day, impeccable hair and skin, an insatiable libido, and a doting wife that would fly anywhere in the world to satisfy her food cravings. Yep, without a doubt, the second trimester had been treating Lena well.

Except for today.

Today, her lower back was killing her.

Today, her ankles were obscenely swollen.

Today, the twins were using her bladder as a trampoline.

Today, she felt like a swollen, bloated, beached whale.

Today, Lena had a short fuse, and Cat had no idea how close she was coming to lighting it.

As was standard practice for Lena with all business-related deals, she insisted on reading the final contract cover-to-cover before signing. Although she trusted her legal team, she refused to agree to any contracts that she herself hadn’t personally vetted. Her lawyers had been with her long enough to take their boss’ anal retentiveness in stride, fully understanding that it did not reflect on the quality of their work. While Cat herself remained non-plussed by the delay, her attorneys did a poor job of hiding their impatience. Picking up on the tension in the room, Lena’s senior attorney suggested that both legal teams take an early lunch and after receiving nods of approval from both Lena and Cat, the two teams exited the conference room.

Shortly thereafter, Jess received a text that appeared to be of an urgent nature. After receiving an ‘OK’ from Kara to use the Kryptonian’s office, she swiftly exited.

Kara and Cat continued to make small talk while Lena scoured the sales agreement line-by-line; occasionally securing her black, thick-rimmed glasses when they inched down her nose. Reading the contract had managed to curb her murderous thoughts; allowing her to convince herself that she was overreacting to Cat’s flippant disrespect towards Kara. She reminded herself that this was something Kara found perfectly acceptable, and if the time came when her wife did have a problem, she was more than capable of speaking up for herself. Lena took a deep breath and consigned herself to let bygones be bygones and drop the matter altogether.

Until…

“So, Miss Grant, I assume that once you’re elected, you’ll be giving us an exclusive post-election interview?” Kara playfully asked.

“Now, now, Kiera. As the president-elect I am obligated to give equal time to all media outlets. I mustn’t show any favoritism,” Cat said in a patronizing tone as she waved her finger at Kara as if she were chastising a small child.

Fuse officially lit.

“Darling, I am simple starving. I could really go for a Philly cheesesteak sandwich from that place we found in mid-town,” Lena said through a strained smile; trying her best to hide the anger coursing through her veins.

“D’Elia’s?” As Lena had predicted, Kara was predictably excited by the suggestion.

Lena nodded. “Yes, that’s the one.” She locked yes with her wife for the briefest of moments before averting her gaze back to the contract in front of her.

Kara’s face shifted from excitement to suspicion quickly, now focusing intently on her wife. Lena knew the Kryptonian was probably using her enhanced senses to see or if something was up. Lena cursed herself for thinking she was going to be able to hide her agitation, knowing full well that her wife would hear her increased heart rate and her uneven breathing. Lena blushed under Kara’s scrutiny and offered up her best smile.

Kara clearly wasn’t buying it. “Nahn rraop voi?” she asked with concern in her voice.

“Ju nim voi,” Lena reassured her. She leveled Kara with a look that told her to drop it.

Appearing to take the hint, Kara subtly nodded. “Funyuns too?”

Lena stared at her wife incredulously with a raised eyebrow. “Is that a legitimate question?”

Kara held up her hands in mock surrender. “A thousand pardons.” She turned to Cat. “Can I get you anything, Miss Grant?”

Cat rolled her eyes and scoffed, “Please, Kiera. In all the years you were my assistant, did I ever order anything as vile as a cheesesteak sandwich?”

Lena had to suppress the growl bubbling in her throat. She removed her glasses and massaged her temples in the vain hope that she could stave off the headache that could feel coming.

“A salad with a cheeseburger on top of it is somehow different?” Kara leveled Cat with a snarky smile. A deadpan look settled on Cat’s face. Kara shook her head. “They have salads…yogurt dressing and all.”

Cat seemed to perk up at this news. “Well, in that case, I’d love a salad.”

Kara nodded and turned her attention to Lena. She bent down and placed a chaste kiss on her wife’s forehead before super-speeding out of the room; Lena anchoring the papers in front of her to keep them from scattering.

As the breeze from Kara’s speedy departure subsided, Lena let out a long breath. After quickly organizing her thoughts, she straightened her posture and locked eyes on the woman across the table, sizing her up like a lion would a gazelle. Cat shifted uncomfortably in her chair, clearly unnerved by the intense look in Lena’s eyes, yet defiantly maintaining eye contact.

“Penny for your thoughts, Mrs. Luthor?” Cat said pointedly.

Lena folded her hands on the table, leaned forward, and using her well-honed CEO voice said, “I was just thinking about the remarkable difference in CatCo’s current market value compared to what I paid for it in 2017. Remarkable considering you purchased it from Andrea no less than three years ago for $250 million less than I paid for it.”

“The last three years have been very successful,” Cat said, clearly gloating. “And in all honesty, CatCo’s dismal market value three years ago was a direct result of Miss Rojas’ incompetence. The woman had no business being a journalist, she’s better suited to run some kind of multi-level marketing scam.” Cat scrunched up her nose like she’d smelled something foul.

Lena couldn’t argue, she wholeheartedly agreed with Cat’s assessment of Andrea. The woman had no concept of ethical business practices, let alone journalistic integrity. Lena was well aware that Andrea would run CatCo into the ground when she offered to sell it to her. Lena was more concerned with pissing Kara off at the time. A brief surge of guilt overcame her for the briefest of moments. Although she and Kara had long ago forgiven each other for their respective transgressions during their year-long schism, Lena still promised herself she would do something nice for the hero when they got home this evening as an unspoken “I’m sorry”; most likely something that would make her wife’s toes curl.

 “Still, it’s amazing what you’ve been able to accomplish in such a short amount of time.” Lena praised.

“Thank you.” Cat seemed pleased with the compliment…and herself.

Lena leaned in closer to Cat. “So, tell me, owner to owner, what’s the secret? How in the hell did you turn a sinking ship worth $500 million into what Kara and I are shelling out $1.4 billion for?”

The question clearly threw Cat for a loop, her eyes flitted around the room as she considered her response. “Well, you can’t be afraid to ruffle a few feathers. People don’t like the truth sometimes, but that’s the responsibility of a free press, exposing people to the ugly truths that surround them.” Cat’s smile regained its cockiness. “Accuracy is more important than expediency; being right is always better than being first.”

“I have firsthand experience in that regard,” Lena sighed bitterly.

A look of recognition passed over Cat and she nodded benevolently. “That’s right. Your mother’s escape.” Cat shook her head and snorted in disgust. “I should have fired both Snapper and Jimmy for their incompetence.” Cat quirked her head questioningly. “I must say I was quite shocked when I heard you and Jimmy were an item at one point given his…negative opinion of you in those early days.”

“I still am shocked at my utter stupidity.” Lena grimaced. “Luckily it wasn’t a permanent affliction.”

Cat said nothing in response to Lena’s lamentation and the two sat in comfortable silence. Cat’s features softened and her lips slid into a warm smile. “That whole mess perfectly illustrates why competent leadership is so important. A good EIC would have put a stop to their recklessness.”  

Thankful for the opportunity to shift the focus away from her relationship with James, Lena quickly replied, “I heard Kara tried to stop them.”

Cat’s smile took on a thoughtful appearance, a glimmer of fondness shown in her eyes. “That’s what makes her so remarkable. Even then, with only a few months’ experience under her belt, she still stood up to those jackasses. Her internal compass told her that something wasn’t right, and she refused to let her inexperience stop her from speaking up.” Cat’s look of pride was matched by Lena’s. “That’s what a competent leader does, sticks to their guns even when those in power tell them they’re wrong.”

“So, you think Kara a logical pick for CEO?”

“Absolutely,” Cat responded passionately. “Credit where credit is due, she’s been singlehandedly running the company for over a year now. She’s been performing tasks well beyond her job title and doing a damn fine job in the process.”

“So, would you say Kara has earned your trust and respect?” Lena set her trap.

“Unequivocally,” Cat said with no small amount of adoration, but her features quickly took on an aura of incredulity. “If I didn’t know any better Mrs. Luthor, I’d say you’re having doubts about putting your wife in charge.”

A feeling of pure satisfaction and anticipation surged through Lena as she now had Cat cornered, though she showed no signs of it, her poker face was impenetrable. (There’s a reason poker had been banned from Game Night, Lena could out-bluff everyone)

She almost felt sorry for the older woman.

Almost.

“No, Miss Grant, I have no doubts regarding Kara’s ability to run CatCo. I’m just confused.”

“About what?” Cat asked with an annoyed tone.

“I’m glad you asked.” The smile that spread across Lena’s face could only be described as sinister. “You compliment Kara’s leadership skills. You say that she is the best choice to run CatCo. You say that you trust her. You even go so far as to say you respect her.” Cat nodded, a look of absolute confusion on her face. “And yet, you continue to disrespect her on a daily basis, both privately and publicly.”

Cat sat silently, eyes the size of saucers and her mouth agape.

“What’s my wife’s name, Miss Grant?” Lena asked in an even tone.

Cat stared at Lena as if she was speaking a foreign language. Lena continued. “’Kara’. Say it with me, ‘Kara’.” Lena enunciated phonetically, making no attempt to hide the disdain in her voice. “K-A-R-A. If you’d like, I’d be happy to write it down in crayon for you.”

Cat was clearly flabbergasted, evidenced by her complete lack of response.

Lena took a deep, centering breath; her anger ebbing away ever so slightly. “Miss Grant, I don’t know you that well. When I met Kara, she spoke almost to the point of reverence about you. It became very clear early in our friendship that you were very important to her, so when you came back into her life, I viewed it positively.” Cat seemed to relax at the shift in Lena’s mood, her features loosened as she followed Lena with rapt attention.

Lena continued, her voice tinged with melancholy, “My opinion soured the first time I met you.” Cat looked at her questioningly, Lena rolled her eyes in response. “Our bridal shower,” Lena deadpanned. Cat gave a slight nod. Lena shook her head and continued, “As I was saying, our bridal shower was the first time I heard you call Kara ‘Kiera’. I just assumed I’d misheard you and let it go. When you called her ‘Kiera’ at our bachelorette party, I figured you’d had too much to drink. When you called her ‘Kiera” at our wedding, the only reason I didn’t cast a spell that would make all your hair fall out is because…well…it was our wedding, and I wasn’t going to ruin the day.”

Cat seemed to sink a little further into her seat as Lena listed off each slight, her face stoic.

“My favorite was the night Kara was awarded her second Pulitzer. You did such a beautiful job during her award presentation. Hell, you even introduced her using her proper name,” Lena paused, a look of mock astonishment on her face. “But no more than two seconds after she stepped off the stage, you called her by that goddamn name again!” Lena, face dusted pink, slammed her fist on the conference table, startling Cat.

Her anger rising, Lena gave Cat no time to recover as she leveled her index finger at the clearly unsettled blonde. “Kara is an extraordinary woman. She has saved this planet both as a writer and Supergirl. For fuck’s sake, she saved the universe from being wiped out of existence! Do you have any idea the enormity of something like that? I assure you, you do not.” Lena slowly rose from her seat and leaned over the table, hovering over a floored Cat. “She is a daughter, a sister, an aunt, my wife, the mother of my unborn children, and goddamn superhero for Christ’s sake! You will show her the respect, grace, and compassion that she is owed. You will commit to me right here and now that you will never, EVER, call her ‘Kiera’ again.” Lena picked up the contract and shook it in Cat’s face. “And if you fail to agree to that, I will burn this and piss on the ashes!” Lena mic-dropped the stapled papers.

Cat, wide-eyed and mouth agape once more, stared blankly at the discarded contract. Lena, satisfied with her tirade (for now), gently lowered herself into her seat. She retrieved her glasses and put them on. After grabbing the contract from its resting place on the conference table, she thumbed through the pages until she found where she left off and resumed her reading.

Lena was content to sit in silence while Cat continued to process what had transpired. She felt a great deal of satisfaction being able to defend her wife, even if it meant the deal might fall through. Lena knew that Kara would be devastated if she had to leave CatCo, and as much as Lena wanted to spare her wife from a broken heart, there was no way in hell she was going to let anyone disrespect her. If worse came to worst, they could buy a smaller publication and build from there; Lena feeling confident that any media organization run by Supergirl would garner a sizeable following, not to mention Kara’s skills as a publisher.

“Have you ever met Perry White?” Cat’s passive voice broke through the silence.

Lena set the contract back on the table, removed her glasses, and studied Cat for a moment. As far as Lena could tell, there was no trace of hostility or arrogance in Cat’s appearance. Lena had no idea why Cat was bringing up the former Daily Planet editor. Her curiosity peaked, she decided to follow Cat down whatever rabbit hole she was leading her. “No, I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure. Though I’m not too broken up about it seeing as how he was more than happy to label me as the anti-Christ after Lex was sent to prison.”

“The man was a pig,” Cat said, a slight tremble in her lips. “When I first started at the Planet as his assistant, he insisted on calling me ‘Caity’.” Cat paused, apparently waiting for some type of response from Lena; a raised eyebrow was all she received. “This went on for weeks. ‘Caity! Coffee, black! Caity, where’re my cigars? ‘Caity, get off your ass and get me some lunch!’. Until one day, I psyched myself up enough to correct him. He told me that he knew what my name was, but he didn’t care. From that point on, he started calling me ‘Caity-Cat’.”

“Did you report him to HR?” The look on Lena’s face was ice-cold, but the hint of warmth in her voice belied a touch of sympathy.

Cat scoffed, “God no. Filing a complaint against the EIC for one of, if not the largest newspaper in the United States would have been career suicide.” Lena could only shake her head in disgust, Cat nervously fiddled with her fingers and huffed, “It was a barbaric time. The entire industry was run by a bunch of testosterone-laden animals.” Cat chuckled quietly. “It’s unfortunate Perry retired before the Me Too movement, I would have loved to have watched him get skinned alive.”

Lena couldn’t help the snort that escaped her. Cat grinned brightly at her reaction. Lena quickly regained her composure and dramatically cleared her throat. “So how did you deal with it?”

 “I used it,” Cat said confidently. “Every time I heard the name ‘Caity-Cat’, I used it as motivation to push for a better career. I made a vow that I would make such a name for myself that that son of a bitch would have no choice but to show me the respect I deserved.” Lena could see a flash of steely determination in Cat’s eyes. “Come hell or high water, I would prove that I was worthy of his notice.” Cat swallowed thickly, her eyes becoming glassy.

Lena picked up on the bitterness in Cat’s voice. She could see how much the memories of her time under Perry White pained her. She couldn’t help the swell of sympathy generated by Cat’s remembrances. Whether she liked it or not, Lena felt a kindred spirit in Cat. Both had navigated a world heavily dominated by misogynistic, deplorable men who did everything in their power to ensure their failure. She understood Cat’s motivation to prove that she belonged in that world, no matter its futility.

“Did you ever accomplish your goal?” Lena asked, already knowing the answer.

 “In a way.” Cat thinned her lips, a far off look on her face. “A year after I got CatCo off the ground, I ran into Perry at some awards dinner. By happenstance, serendipity, or whatever the hell you want to call it, we went to get a drink at the bar at the same time. I said hello, and he grunted out ‘Catherine’.” Lena shrugged her shoulders and shook her head, unsurprised by the man’s apparent apathy. Cat grinned playfully, clearly feeling like she swallowed the canary. “But by then it didn’t matter. I’d grown far beyond needing his respect or approval. By that time, I had already accomplished more than that sack of shit ever could. I didn’t want, didn’t need a damn thing from him.”

Lena let Cat relieve her triumphant moment, happy in the knowledge that Cat was able to realize her self-worth without needing validation from anyone else.

“So, is that why you scall my wife ‘Kiera’? In some misguided attempt to motivate her?” Lena’s gaze bore into Cat with an intensity greater than Kara’s heat vision. “Because from where I’m sitting, it seems history repeating itself.”

Cat blanched at Lena’s assertion; a barely perceptible shiver ran the length of her spine. Cat let out a long breath before meeting Lena’s probing stare before answering wistfully. “When she started as my assistant, maybe…but I think it got to the point where I wasn’t even aware I was doing it.��� Cat looked away from Lena, clearly angry with herself. She fell back into her chair with an unceremonious thud, her shoulders sagging defeatedly. “But it really doesn’t matter, still makes me a hypocrite.”

Lena answered Cat’s unasked question with a raise of her eyebrow and a slight tilt of her head.

Cat folding her hands on the conference table and leaned closer to Lena. “Please understand, I am so proud of Kara. She has exceeded every expectation I could possibly have of her. She has grown into a remarkable woman; and it has nothing to do with the cape and tights. She engenders trust and respect to a level I have never seen before. I’m used to my staff going above and beyond because they’re scared of me, but her, they do it because they adore her.” Cat’s eyes were glassy with unshed tears.

Lena’s features softened at Cat’s admission, a warm sense of satisfaction blooming in her chest. She started feeling the slight sting of welling tears in her eyes after hearing such kind words about her wife. Stupid pregnancy hormones.

There might be hope for Cat yet. At the very least, she’d avoid tasting Lena’s fist.

“Have you considered telling her that?” Lena pointedly asked.

Cat grinned sadly through trembling lips. “I feel like that ship’s sailed,” Cat said with a shaky voice. “How…when…I mean…I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

Lena didn’t even try to hide her enjoyment watching Cat ramble. “One, it’s never too late, two, use your words, and three, there’s no time like the present.” Lena motioned towards the closed door leading to the bullpen. Cat looked at the door confused. “Kara, I know you’re listening. You can come in now,” Lena said quietly.

Before Cat could react, the door opened and a sheepish looking Kara entered the conference room, two flimsy cardboard boxes filled with wrapped sandwiches and bags cradled in her arms. She set the boxes down and turned to face her wife. “I wasn’t listening.” Lena leveled Kara with an arched eyebrow in response, Kara quickly folded under her wife’s stare. “Well, I didn’t listen to everything.”

“Do tell, zrhemin.” Lena suppressed a grin.

Kara made to adjust glasses that weren’t there, quickly shifting to scratch her cheek.  “Fine. I’ve been listening since ‘piss on the ashes’”. But in my defense, I could hear your heartrate was elevated and I got worried.”

Satisfied, Lena shrugged. The color had seemed to drain from Cat’s face after Kara’s confession, her eyebrows hitting her hairline. An awkward silence followed. Cat and Lena appeared to be in a stare down while Kara tried to avoid looking either one in the eye. Lena emerged as the victor of the silent battle; Cat turned to face Kara.  Kier…Kara, I owe you an apology…”

“Miss Grant, you don’t have to apologize,” Kara cut her off with a wave of her hand.

“No, Kara, I do.” Cat took a focusing breath and swallowed thickly. “Your wife is right; I haven’t always been very nice to you. I’ve been disrespectful, callous, and sometimes, downright abusive; none of which you’ve deserved.” Kara was beaming as Cat spoke, now the third person in the room being brought to tears. “Sufficed to say, I will work harder to…be more positive with my feedback…and, at the very least, call you by your given name.”

Cat hesitantly approached Kara and after an awkward amount of positioning, embraced her in a tight hug. The floodgates opened and all three women had tears streaking their faces: Cat and Kara for obvious reasons, and Lena…well…goddamn hormones!

Kara and Cat pulled back from their embrace and messily wiped away their tears, a few sniffles coming from both women. “Thank you, Miss Grant. I accept your apology,” Kara said, a slight tremble in her voice.

Cat smiled at her warmly. “Kara, I think at this point you can call me Cat.”

Kara gasped in shock before devolving into clapping and squealing excitedly. “Ok…Cat,” she said with an overdramatic swagger.

Cat and Lena exchanged an eyeroll but didn’t comment on the Kryptonian being a spastic dork.

Cat leveled Kara with her best boss-stare, quickly pulling the hero out of her giddiness. “That is until I win the election. Then you’ll have to address me as Madame President.”

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The IRS will do your taxes for you (if that's what you prefer)

This Saturday (May 20), I’ll be at the GAITHERSBURG Book Festival with my novel Red Team Blues; then on May 22, I’m keynoting Public Knowledge’s Emerging Tech conference in DC.

On May 23, I’ll be in TORONTO for a book launch that’s part of WEPFest, a benefit for the West End Phoenix, onstage with Dave Bidini (The Rheostatics), Ron Diebert (Citizen Lab) and the whistleblower Dr Nancy Olivieri.

America is a world leader in allowing private companies to levy taxes on its citizens, including (stay with me here), a tax on paying your taxes.

In most of the world, the tax authorities prepare a return for each taxpayer, sending them a prepopulated form with all their tax details — collected from employers and other regulated entities, like pension funds and commodities brokers, who must report income to the tax office. If the form is correct, the taxpayer signs it and sends it back (in some countries, taxpayers don’t even have to do that — they just ignore the return unless they want to amend it).

No one has to use this system, of course. If you have complex finances, or cash income that doesn’t show up in mandatory reporting, or if you’d just prefer to prepare your own return or pay an accountant to do so for you, you can. But for the majority of people, those with income from a job or a pension, and predictable deductions, say, from caring for minor children, filing your annual tax return takes between zero and five minutes and costs absolutely nothing.

Not so in America. America is one of the very few rich countries (including Canada, though this is changing), where the government won’t just send you a form containing all the information it already has, ready to file. As is common in complex societies, America has a complex tax code (further complexified by deliberate obfuscation by billionaires and their lickspittle Congressjerks, who deliberately perforate the tax code with loopholes for the ultra-rich):

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/11/the-canada-variant/#shitty-man-of-history-theory

That complexity means that most of us can’t figure out how to file our own taxes, at least not without committing scarce hours out of the only life we will ever have to poring over the ramified and obscure maze of tax-law.

Why doesn’t the IRS just send you a tax-return? Well, because the tax-prep industry — an oligopoly dominated by a handful of massive, ultra-profitable firms — bribes Congress (that is, “lobbies”) to prohibit this. They are aided in this endeavor by swivel-eyed lunatic anti-tax obsessives, like Grover Nordquist and Americans for Tax Reform, who argue that paying taxes should be as difficult and painful as possible in order to foment opposition to taxation itself.

The tax-prep industry is dominated by a single firm, Intuit, who took over tax-prep through its anticompetitive acquisition of TurboTax, itself a chimera of multiple companies gobbled up in a decades-long merger orgy. Inuit is a freaky company. For decades, its defining CEO Brad Smith ran the company as a cult of personality organized around his trite sayings, like “Do whatever makes your heart beat fastest,” stenciled on t-shirts worn by employees. Other employees donned Brad Smith masks for selfies with their Beloved Leader.

Smith’s cult also spent decades lobbying to keep the IRS from offering a free filing service. Instead, Intuit joined a cartel that offered a “Free File” service to some low- and medium-income Americans:

https://www.propublica.org/article/inside-turbotax-20-year-fight-to-stop-americans-from-filing-their-taxes-for-free

But the cartel sabotaged Free File from the start. They blocked search engines from indexing their Free File services, then bought Google ads for “free file” that directed searchers to soundalike programs (“Free Filing,” etc) that hit them for hundreds of dollars in tax-prep fees. They also funneled users to versions of Free File they were ineligible for, a fact that was only revealed after the user spent hours painstaking entering their financial information, whereupon they would be told that they could either start over or pay hundreds of dollars to finish filing with a commercial product.

Intuit also pioneered the use of binding arbitration waivers that stripped its victims of the right to sue the company after it defrauded them. This tactic blew up in Intuit’s face after its victims banded together to mass-file thousands of arbitration claims, sending the company to court to argue that binding arbitration wasn’t enforceable after all:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/24/uber-for-arbitration/#nibbled-to-death-by-ducks

But justice eventually caught up with Intuit. After a series of stinging exposes by Propublica journalists Justin Elliot, Paul Kiel and others, NY Attorney General Letitia James led a coalition of AGs from all 50 states and DC that extracted a $141m settlement for 4.4 million Americans who had been tricked into paying for Turbotax services they were entitled to get for free:

https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/us/turbotax-to-begin-payouts-after-it-cheated-customers-new-york-ag-says/ar-AA1aNXfi

Fines are one thing, but the only way to comprehensively end the predatory tax-prep scam is to bring the USA kicking and screaming into the 20th century, when most of the rest of the world brought in free tax-prep for ordinary income earners. That’s just what’s happening: the IRS is trialing a free tax prep service for next year’s tax season:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/business/2023/05/15/irs-free-file/

This, despite Intuit’s all-out blitz attack on Congress and the IRS to keep free tax-prep from ever reaching the American people:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/20/turbotaxed/#counter-intuit

That charm offensive didn’t stop the IRS from releasing a banger of a report that made it clear that free tax-prep was the most efficient, humane and cost-effective way to manage an advanced tax-system (something the rest of the world has known for decades):

https://www.irs.gov/pub/irs-pdf/p5788.pdf

Of course, Intuit is furious, as in spitting feathers. Rick Heineman, Intuit’s spokesprofiteer, told KQED that “A direct-to-IRS e-file system is wholly redundant and is nothing more than a solution in search of a problem. That solution will unnecessarily cost taxpayers billions of dollars and especially harm the most vulnerable Americans.”

https://www.kqed.org/news/11949746/the-irs-is-building-its-own-online-tax-filing-system-tax-prep-companies-arent-happy

Despite Upton Sinclair’s advice that “it is difficult to get a man to understand something, when his salary depends on his not understanding it,” I will now attempt to try to explain to Heineman why he is unfuckingbelievably, eye-wateringly wrong.

“e-file…is wholly redundant”: Well, no, Rick, it’s not redundant, because there is no existing Free File system except for the one your corrupt employer made and hid “in the bottom of a locked filing cabinet stuck in a disused lavatory with a sign on the door saying ‘Beware of the Leopard.’”

“nothing more than a solution in search of a problem”: The problem this solves is that Americans have to pay Intuit billions to pay their taxes. It’s a tax on paying taxes. That is a problem.

“unnecessarily cost taxpayers billions of dollars”: No, it will save taxpayers the billions of dollars (they pay you).

“harm the most vulnerable Americans”: Here is an area where Heineman can speak with authority, because few companies have more experience harming vulnerable Americans.

Take the Child Tax Credit. This is the most successful social program in living memory, a single initiative that did more to lift American children out of poverty than any other since the days of the Great Society. It turns out that giving poor people money makes them less poor, which is weird, because neoliberal economists have spent decades assuring us that this is not the case:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/16/mortgages-are-rent-control/#housing-is-a-human-right-not-an-asset

But the Child Tax Credit has been systematically sabotaged, by Intuit lobbyists, who successfully added layer after layer of red tape — needless complexity that makes it nearly impossible to claim the credit without expert help — from the likes of Intuit:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/29/three-times-is-enemy-action/#ctc

It worked. As Ryan Cooper writes in The American Prospect: “between 13 and 22 percent of EITC benefits are gulped down by tax prep companies”:

https://prospect.org/economy/2023-05-17-irs-takes-welcome-step-20th-century/

So yes, I will defer to Rick Heineman and his employer Intuit on the subject of “harming the most vulnerable Americans.” After all, they’re the experts. National champions, even.

Now I want to address the peply guys who are vibrating with excitement to tell me about their 1099 income, the cash money they get from their lemonade stand, the weird flow of krugerrands their relatives in South African FedEx to them twice a year, etc, that means that free file won’t work for them because the IRS doesn’t actually understand their finances.

That’s a hard problem, all right. Luckily, there is a very simple answer for this: use a tax-prep service.

Actually, it’s not a hard problem. Just use a tax-prep service. That’s it. No one is going to force you to use the IRS’s free e-file. All you need to do to avoid the socialist nightmare of (checks notes) living with less red-tape is: continue to do exactly what you’re already doing.

Same goes for those of you who have a beloved family accountant you’ve used since the Eisenhower administration. All you need to do to continue to enjoy the advice of that trusted advisor is…nothing. That’s it. Simply don’t change anything.

One final note, addressing the people who are worried that the IRS will cheat innocent taxpayers by not giving them all the benefits they’re entitled to. Allow me here to simply tap the sign that says “between 13 and 22 percent of EITC benefits are gulped down by tax prep companies.” In other words, when you fret about taxpayers being ripped off, you’re thinking of Intuit, not the IRS. Just calm down. Why not try using fluoridated toothpaste? You’ll feel better, and I promise I won’t tell your friends at the Gadsen Flag appreciation society.

Your secret is safe with me.

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in Toronto, DC, Gaithersburg, Oxford, Hay, Manchester, Nottingham, London, and Berlin!

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this thread to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/17/free-as-in-freefile/#tell-me-something-i-dont-know

[Image ID: A vintage drawing of Uncle Sam toasting with a glass of Champagne, superimposed over an IRS 1040 form that has been fuzzed into a distorted halftone pattern.]

[misfitwashere]

Friends,

I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling more anxious about the outcome of the upcoming election. I’m still nauseously optimistic, but the nausea is growing. 

I’m as skeptical of polls as any of you, but when all of them show the same thing — that Kamala Harris’s campaign stalled several weeks ago, yet Trump’s continues to surge — it’s important to take the polls seriously. 

Harris will give her closing message to the American people tomorrow at a rally on the National Mall’s Ellipse in Washington. 

Over the last several weeks, she’s focused on Trump’s threats to a woman’s right over her body and to the rights of all Americans to a democracy. 

Tomorrow night, though, she needs to respond forcefully to the one issue that continues to be highest on the minds of most Americans: the economy. 

She must tell Americans simply and clearly why they continue to have such a hard time despite all the official economic indicators to the contrary: It’s because of the power of large corporations and a handful of wealthy individuals to siphon off most economic gains for themselves. 

Most Americans are outraged that they continue to struggle economically at the same time billionaires are pulling in ever more wealth. Most know they’re paying too much for housing, gas, groceries, and the medicines they need. They also know that a major cause is the market power of big corporations.

They want someone who’ll stand up to big corporations and the politicians in Washington who serve them. 

They want a president who’ll be on their side. A president who will crack down on price gouging, who will bust up the monopolies and restore competition, who will fight to cap prescription drug costs, who will get big money out of politics and stop the legalized bribery that rigs the market for the rich, and who will make sure corporations pay their fair share and end tax breaks for billionaire crooks. 

A president who will put working families first — before big corporations and the wealthy. 

Harris needs to say she will be this president. 

Her policy proposals support this. She’s committed to strong antitrust enforcement — cracking down on mergers and acquisitions that give big food corporations the power to jack up food and grocery prices, prosecuting price-fixing, and banning price gouging. She needs to remind voters of this. 

She also says she’ll raise taxes on the rich, provide $25,000 in down-payment assistance to help Americans buy their first home, restore the Expanded Child Tax Credit to $3,600 to help more than 100 million working Americans, and introduce a new $6,000 tax cut to help families pay for the high costs of a child’s first year of life. 

All should be parts of her speech tomorrow about why she will be the champion of working people. 

She wants to raise the minimum wage to $15 an hour, make stock buybacks more expensive, and expand Medicare to cover home health care — paid for with savings from the expansion of Medicare price negotiations with drug manufacturers.

She needs to frame all of this as a response to the power of big corporations and the wealthy — and say in no uncertain terms that she’s on the side of the people, not the powerful. 

If she fails to do this in her closing argument, Trump’s demagogic response will be the only one the public hears — that average working people are struggling because of undocumented workers and the “enemy within,” including Democrats, socialists, Marxists, and the “deep state.”

Harris should fit her message about democracy inside this economic message. If our democracy weren’t dominated by the rich and big corporations, fewer of the economy’s gains would be siphoned off to them. Average working people would have better pay and more secure jobs and be able to afford to homes, food, fuel, medicine, child care, and eldercare. 

A large portion of the public no longer thinks American democracy is working. According to a new New York Times/Siena College poll, only 45 percent believe our democracy does a good job representing ordinary people. An astounding 62 percent say the government is mostly working to benefit itself and elites rather than the common good.

In her closing argument, Harris should commit herself to reversing this, so government works for the common good. 

Harris started her campaign in July and early August by emphasizing these themes about the economy and democracy. 

But in more recent weeks, she’s focused mostly on Trump’s particular threat to democracy. Her campaign seems to have decided that she can draw additional voters from moderate Republican suburban women upset by Trump’s role in fomenting the attack on the U.S. Capitol. 

That’s why she’s been campaigning with Liz Cheney and gathering Republican officials as supporters. And why she has chosen to give her closing message on the Ellipse — where Trump summoned his followers to march on the Capitol on January 6, 2021. 

Yet when she shifted gears from the economy to Trump’s attacks on democracy, Harris’s campaign stalled. I think that’s because Americans continue to focus on the economy and want an answer to why they are still struggling economically. 

If Trump gives them an answer — although baseless and demagogic — but Harris does not, he may sail to victory on November 5. 

Hence in her closing message she must talk clearly and frankly about the misallocation of economic power in America — lodged with big corporations and the wealthy instead of average Americans — and her commitment to rectify this.

[peach-fiz]

With Robin Williams trending, I'd like to insert my 2 cents about my favorite of his works and one of my favorite movies in general, Hook.

I don't see much about this movie and it's kinda sad seeing as it's such a deep movie about parent child relationships and the fear of death via getting old. And after having read the actual book by James Barrie, it's incredible how accurate they got it. I would also love asks if anyone has other things to add ab it, but I'm mainly going to talk about Peter and Jack's relationships and therefore Peter's relationships with his parental figures. (Tink, Wendy, his adoptive parents, and his birth parents)

The first thing we learn about Peter Banning is that he has a troubled relationship with his (I'm assuming 10 year old) son Jack. Peter himself is a merger and acquisitions lawyer and is deeply woven with his work. We also learn in those same first few minutes that it affects the time he spends with both of his kids.

In the same 2 minute span, Peter agrees to a meeting that occurs during a baseball game he promised his son he would attend, on a phone call in the middle of his daughter's school play where she is the female lead. A role very important to her because she's playing her great grandmother. Of course Peter missed the game and rather, sends a coworker with a camera to film it for him; which sets off a main theme of the film being Peter being unable to be there for his children, mainly Jack.

Next we learn not only does he not keep promises made to his kids but also to Wendy Darling(who took him in as an orphan when he was 13) who has invited him over for Christmas every year and yet he hasn't been in a decade due to work and her living out of the country.

Then when the movie's plot officially starts we begin to understand that Peter is wasting time and not caring (which could be a psychological side affect to being the same age for so many years that his concept of time is generally inept). Much later in the movie they expand on this idea of Jack's relationship with his father not being good and fueled by when they got to Neverland James Hook proposed thst if Peter could touch their hands, trying to get him to fly, that he would let them go.

He climbed all the way up the mast and gave up from grief and exhaustion. But to Jack, this meant his dad didn't care enough to try the tiniest bit harder to touch them.

Then we have later on when Peter finds his happy thought (which is one of my favorite scenes) where he remembers his mother and being Peter Pan and Wendy. I'm going to condense this as much as I can but Peter ran away and doesn't like his parents especially his mother because they wanted him to grow up and b e something and in his tiny baby head that meant growing old and eventually dying which is a fear that has dictated his life. He leaves people behind and breaks promises but when the same is done to him he feels abandoned (the way children do).

I don't know how to write an ending for this but I could continue if anyone is interested!!

[frankendykes-monster]

Of course, this is the fundamental issue with Deadpool and Wolverine. It’s not a story, it’s a collection of familiar intellectual property bundled into a two-hour package, and fans would complain if Wolverine either waited to put the costume on or eventually symbolically took it off. So the costume stays on for the movie’s runtime, because that is the priority here. That’s the primary purpose of the movie. Even the most basic storytelling logic is secondary to the desire to pander to empty nostalgia. It’s very interesting what Deadpool and Wolverine can and cannot joke about, what topics are deemed out of bounds for this most irreverent of franchises. There are no references to either T.J. Miller or Jonathan Majors, though that is to be expected. There are no references to Cable, Domino or Julian, despite the fact that they formed the emotional crux of the last film. They’ve seemingly been replaced by Shatterstar, who is alive for some reason. And who Deadpool no longer hates, for some reason. Under the Disney brand, Deadpool and Wolverine is thoroughly domesticated. Any implication that the making of this movie was troubled is sorely out of bounds. There is another small but appreciable shift between Deadpool and Wolverine and the previous two movies in the franchise. The opening credits in Deadpool and Deadpool 2 were irreverent and passive aggressive. Deadpool was directed by “an overpaid tool”, Deadpool 2 was directed by “one of the guys who killed the dog in John Wick.” In contrast, Deadpool and Wolverine is “a Kevin Feige production” and “a Shawn Levy film.” Apparently there are some things that you don’t joke about. That’s Deadpool and Wolverine in a nutshell. Or a fan-service-y yellow costume.

Still, there is something interesting here. Last year’s summer blockbusters were largely about how man had killed god, whether literally or metaphorically. The High Evolutionary stepped into the role of creator in Guardians of the Galaxy, Vol. 3. The entire journey of The Creator was to turn off the life support keeping “the Creator” alive. Barbie was about the exile from the Garden. Fast X found Dante (yes) trying to blow up the Vatican because he died and discovered there was no afterlife. Oppenheimer finds mankind taking atomic power into their own hands, “a terrible reckoning of divine power.” Loki imagines what it means to kill He Who Remains. As such, it’s interesting that this year’s blockbusters seek to fill that existential void with something: intellectual property. It’s no surprise so many of this year’s blockbusters are about intellectual property surviving the literal or metaphorical death of the author. Deadpool and Wolverine survive the merger and acquisition of Fox. Harold contemplates his creator’s mortality in Harold and the Purple Crayon. IF was about the idea that nobody outgrows their childhood imaginary friend. Argylle is the story of an author who discovers that she is ultimately a character in her own narrative. In these stories, fiction survives the loss of its creator. Intellectual property endures. Indeed, intellectual property moves to fill the gap. So many modern films are “spreadsheet movies”, films about watching companies celebrate how much stuff they own. Space Jam, The Flash, Deadpool and Wolverine. There is no story, no theme, no purpose, no character. There is only intellectual property, imagery and iconography to be memed and reproduced and reimagined and reworked, until any residual meaning is completely erased. But intellectual property doesn’t just survive. It redeems. It will save you. It is your messiah. What is Madame Web but A Very Spider-Man Nativity, the story of the birth of one Peter Benjamin Parker mythologised, with three wise Spider-Women in attendance? The joke in Deadpool and Wolverine is that Deadpool is “Marvel Jesus”, but the film is too smart to play that straight. Instead, it casts Wolverine as the messiah. Wolverine is “the anchor being.” Only through Wolverine’s death and rebirth can the world itself be redeemed, the universe born again, the centre allowed to hold. Hell, he’s even crucified at one point in Deadpool and Wolverine. [...] (It is telling that even the void has no room for anybody but superheroes. Second chances are reserved entirely for pieces of recognisable iconography, not for ordinary people. There is no humanity to be found in Deadpool and Wolverine, the narrative equivalent of watching an executive move items around a spreadsheet for two straight hours.)

[rottedleechboy]

Another Friday Night: Patrick Bateman x reader

Oneshot

Warnings/Content warnings: Smut, sex n stuff, major noncon, blood, cutting, virginity loss, Dom! Patrick, he is a psycho, Patrick Bateman being Patrick Bateman yk the classic stuffs

Note: Idk wrote this cus yk why not and I was feeling extra spicy (deranged), only did minor edits so sorry if it's kinda shit. This was very VERY self-indulgent. I tried to leave it gender neutral but it's definitely more fem. Sorry

Summary: uhhhhhhhh yeah

It was about that time of the year where things started ramping up for Pierce & Pierce : Mergers and Acquisitions.

Well not really it's a very grey place to work. You. Well you were just an office runner, no real handling of anything important appart from maybe keeping the pens in stock and making sure there was enough paper in each printer. Making sure the common areas were kept up like restocking kitchen suplies, cups for the water fountain and mediocre coffee station.

The best part of the job was spending the company credit card on snacks and stocking up the snack bar in the "kitchen" area. The kitchen wasn't really a kitchen it resembled a tiny apartments sad excuse for a kitchen but it was missing the stove and oven. Instead replaced with a tiny bench top microwave. Besides the point spending money on cute little snacks and restocking the snack bar was very therapeutic.

You took alot of pride in the "kitchen". I mean there's not much u can take pride in, in this job. You were technically a "secretary" but... It was mainly Jean which took care of the classic secretary jobs.

I'd like to think of it as secondary secretary or on call assistant. Unlike Jean you moved around a lot more whereas she was more glued to her desk replying to emails and phone calls. She was always so polite when she needed me to run some papers to another person. Usually you were last to leave the floor, after Jean leaves for the night you stay back replying to the last lot of emails she didn't get to, usually it was just 5-6 emails with 3 sentence replies.

She's pretty good at getting through the influx of emails everyday but the ones left weren't anything too big so you didn't mind getting the rest done.

Also, you stayed back just in case someone else on ur floor stayed back and needed some errands run.

More often then not its was to pick up food... Again. Half the time you were on coffee runs, lunch runs, another coffee run, another late lunch run, snack runs etc. The snacks run out rather quickly actually. If it wasn't food you would be picking up things from the post office, things from the dry cleaners or once again running a Manila folder to another big grey building down the block. Tonight wasn't so different. You stayed back like usual today there weren't any emails to reply to so you sat at Jeans desk surfing the Web and online shopping.

Tonight Patrick was staying back, you didn't know why it's not like he does anything appart from being a dick. Everytime u passed his office you saw him he reading a magazine in his office or doing a crossword. Everytime he had called you in to run a task it was something useless like throwing a piece of paper from his desk to his trash can in the left corner of his office which he was too lazy to do. He definitely does it just to fuck with you because every time there was a condescending or snarly comment. Of course you would without fail glare daggers at him or reply with an equally snarky and condescending remark.

Scrolling mindlessly for shit you didn't need untill the phone started ringing. It was Bateman. So with a annoyed sigh you picked up "Yes, what." you said impatiently. Honestly you just wanted to go, it was boring and you wanted to use your new artisan bath bomb. Plus it was Friday. "Come here" and then he promptly hung up. What could that prick even want. Getting up with a heavy huff and an attitude walking up to his glass office and pushing open the door.

You stared at him with an expectant look, 3 seconds had passed before he decided to speak. "I need you to carry this" gesturing to the fancy wine and Armani wine glass set that he got gifted today. "seriously... Too weak to carry this your self?". He ignore you putting on his blazer and picking up his breiff case ready to walk out. Bending over to carry his gifts you follow behind him leaving his office.

The elevator ride down was silent and full of tension. What a dickwad you thought. As we got to the ground floor there was a Porsche already waiting. Walking around back to put the wine and glases in the boot suddenly hearing "no I need you to hold on to them in the car, don't want them breaking now do we" he says emphasing the last few words. The driver opens the door for you to get in and shuts it after you give him a slight nod.

Patrick is already seated next to you and staring out the window. God even the way he sits is pretentious. Sooner or later we arrive at his apartment complex. We get out and he waves the driver away. What a dick move, you now had to call your own cab home. After he makes you carry the shit up to his apartment on he makes you call your own cab home??? God what did you ever do to make him hate you so much.

The whole journey you had been glaring at the back of his head trying to burn a hole through his skull. He unlocked his door and opened it up waiting expectantly for you to walk through. You do. As you look around trying to find a table or something to put his stuff down on. At this point your arms were tired and you were exhausted. Not to mention that it was a fucking Friday night. Your eyes landed on his white marble counter top and finally dropping his useless glasses and stupidly expensive wine off. His place was nice but boring as you expected. Clean but a maximalists nightmare.

As the weight left your arms you sighed and went to turn around and leave as you heard a *click* the sound of the door locking.

Did this bafoon straight up forget he just let someone into his apartment??? Walking up to Bateman who was leaning back against his apartment door looking sly. "okay ur stuff-" before you could finish your sentence he had you in a choke hold with a cloth over your nose and mouth. Struggling like a maggot in the beak of a bird, thrashing around untill all went dark.

Blurry white was all you could see. What happened. What the fuck. As your vision came back you sat up slowly. Where. What. You were confused and still trying to figgure out what was happening. Hands shakey reaching up to rub the blurring out of your eyes. Checking yourself for any missing limbs or anything that might indicate what happened. As you explore you feel a thick collar wrapped around your neck. Huh?? Pain shoots through your whole body. In two distinct pulses. As soon as it stopped you hear a chuckle comming from behind you. Turning you see Patrick sat on a chair looking awfully proud of himself. "Patrick..what's going on?" there were tears welling up but you were not going to let them spill.

He hold up a remote with 3 buttons shaking it like a toy in front of a baby tauntingly not saying anything. Pressing one of the 3 buttons with a click that almost echo's in the room. Instantly you feel the pulsing pain shoot through you body again. This time it went on for one second longer but it felt like a minute.

Angry and scared you shouted at him but all that came out was a high pitched pip and air getying caught in your throat. "awww what's wrong? Cat got ya tongue?" he teases walking closer now being over to meet your eye level.

You were on his bed, atleast he had the courtesy of putting you on his bed instead of the hard floors. Gathering your voice back up "Patrick what the fuck?" you manage to snap.

"I would drop the attitude if I were you"

"No Patrick what the actual fu-" pain sears through your limbs once again making you double over onto your side. "Be nice. Or ill shock you till your brain oozes out of your thick fucking skull" Patrick spits out, the dislike apparent in his voice.

As the pain subsides you open you eyes back up eyes landing on the knife he was now holding in his other hand. "Patrick why... Why?" looking up at him as he looms over the edge of the bed, voice no longer as strong or determined but quiet. Putting the knife down oh is side table he grabs a fist full of your hair making you sit up and look him directly in his eyes. "since you think ur so fucking smart why don't you figgure it out" adding a hmmm at the end as to belittle you even more. As if this wasn't already enough.

"what do you want" you whine out eyes casting down. His eyes were piercing straight through you. You didn't want to admit it but something inside you found this oh so very hot.

Letting go of you hair and grabbing his knife back he opens a closet. Watching his movement closely trying to figgure out what he was possibly going to get. He starts to set up a tripod. Oh God what the fuck you think to ur self. Panicking even more if that was even possible.

Adjusting the camera to face you he clicks a few buttons then clears his throat. "Ass up for the camera" in a stern demanding tone. Looking at him questionably to counter he holds up the remote for the shock collar you had on. Almost challenging you. Reluctantly you get on all 4s and arch your back with ur bum facing him and the camera. His footsteps comming closer untill you feel cold sharpness run up the back of ur thigh. Staying silent as he rips you skirt off leaving you in your stockings and a thong. You were still basically dressed but felt so naked and vulnerable. As he threw the now fabric rectangle on the floor he spanks your ass. The stinging making you involuntarily let out a little whimper of confused pleasure. "oh, so your are a little whore" feigning surprise. Hearing something scrape against the bed you try looking for clues as to whats to come next but fail as he strikes you with a whip? Cane? Unknown but it stung. Yelping as the thing made contact. The weight on the bed shifted as he got closer shoving ur face into the blankets "don't move bitch" he whispers into you ear before moving off again. Now you have deduced it was infact a cane and he wasn't going to tap you lightly. Striking your ass with the cane again and again while berating the living hell out of you. It hurt so good as tears soaked into the sheets. You could feel your pussy pulsing but you couldn't let Patrick know that.

"please stop" you were begging him as he kept whipping your cheeks with the cane. "Patrick please it hurts so much" "yeah it's supposed to hurt you dumb cunt" a few strikes later he stops. "stand up" he orders. Mustering up the strength you feel your stiff joints scream as you step onto the floor and straighten you knees and back. He's behind the camera "go have a good look at yourself" gesturing with his head to the mirror.

As you near you see the dark red lines left by the cane. Beads of blood forming at the skin and the skin that did split the blood was smeared by the other smacks all across your cheeks. "you see that" you nod slowly still looking at the carnage of your cheeks. "that's what sacarstic sluts get, I'm not letting you off with just that either" he warns as he roughly grabs you arm dragging you back to the edge of the bed and forcing you into your knees.

You could feel the heat and the pain radiate from your ass as your knees made contact with his carpet. With a hand firmly grasping at you hair and the other one skilfully undoing his belt and fly he pulls down his silk boxers revealing his massive hard cock. "don't just stare open up" yanking your head back so you would be looking up at him. Opening your mouth reluctantly he roughly shoves his cock in. Your hands automatically push against his thighs to no avail. He was so strong all you could do was grip at the fabric of his pants as he kept gagging you. He didn't let you breath and all you could hear was triumphant groans of pleasure comming from him. Your things were pressed together trying to quell the throbbing down stairs. As he pulled his dick out and let you breath he yanked to to your feet and forcefully ripped your shirt off and harshly yanking your bra off as the straps snapped and the claps split. "oh wow would you look at that, you don't know how long I've been wanting to fuck you brainless" as he roughly fondles your chest. His hand making its way up to you neck and then pushing you back onto the bed. "Patrick" you pleaded "Patrick please don't I'm" struggling to get out the words as he tightened his grip around your throat.

All you could do was let out a strangled moan. Finally letting go he sat back onto his knees and spreading your legs so that his cock was right at the entrance of your coochie.

Looking at him with pleading "Pat please don't, please I'm.." "finish ur sentence bitch" as he rest a hand on your inner thigh ready to rip your tights off. "I'm a virgin please don't"

"ur so fucking stupid ur pissing me off you fucking whore" as he rips a hole in your stockings and completely ripping your thong off leaving fabric burn marks on your hips. Without a second he thrust his girthy penis inside. Instinctively you tighten around him yet your legs were trying to push him away. None of your protest did Jackshit. Leaning to the side he grabbed the knife off the night stand again. Pressing his body against yours as he slid the knife up too your throat holding it there as he looked into your eyes while fucking you. All you could do was hold onto his forearm to lessen the pressure of the blade against your throat.

It hurt so bad but he didn't slow down he was pounding into you harder and faster. A shamefully moan every time he trusted into you. "you like my cock you little cum slut? Ofcourse you do u pathetic bitch" "because that's what you are aren't you" he cooes as you moan. He keeps ramming into you harder and faster untill you feel him cum inside of you.

A few final pumps and as he lifts himself up pressing his hand on your chest admiring what a mess you had become. "look at me" you had to fight your mind fog to look at him. "mm pa-" he slaps ur face leaving a sting hand print on your cheek "it's Sir." "slut" he spits out. "sir please no more" pleading with him again now fully exhausted. He just chuckles and walks back over to his camera taking it off the tripod and filming manually. "open up" hitting you leg lightly expecting you to spread them open again. But you didn't hear him still in a daze trying to process what just happened.

One quick shock back to reality quite litteraly you instantly spread open your legs. Kneeling down with his camera he reaches his fingers to display his hard work to the camera. You could feel the warm cum oozing out of your slit. As he kept using his fingers to spread your lips open. Standing back up again. "hands off your tits bitch" he demands. Slowly uuncrossing your arms from your chest you prop yourself up to face him properly with your legs still open. He's filming you. "okay repeat after me, I'm just a hole" "I'm just a hole" you whisper weakly. He drops the camera a bit to look at you and sighs with disappointment "a bit more enthusiasm and smile a bit" tilting his head to the side in sly mockery. "your a slut. Act like one" he states impatiently then lifting the camera back up. "I'm just a hole" this time you exclaimed with more life, surprisingly a smile was easy to muster up.

That sick part of you enjoyed this. "see that's not so hard is it" he teased as he propped the camera back on the tripod. This time he opens the night stand and grabs something. You couldn't quite see. *click* he opens it to reveal a switch blade. Frozen you followed him with your eyes as he sat opposite you. "patric- sir w-what are" squealing as he lunges at you pressing you back down on the bed.

His weight and strength being impossible to struggle against. "stay still doll, it's easier if you stay still" he chuckles as the knife nears your face. "pat" you manage to squeak out as he sliced up the corner of your mouth and up your cheek. The warm blood running down the sides of your head and down your neck. You actually started crying now the tears which you held back so long came pouring down mixing with the warm thick blood from your cheeks. He had finished with your other cheek now sitting back. Losening his tie and undoing a few buttons of his shirt. "look at how much prettier you are now" looking at you with admiration for his handy work. Taking off his tie "hands" he said composed like he didn't just mutilate your face, you stretch out your arms to him as he ties your writs up with his tie then strapping it through a slot in his headboard.

Grabbing his switch blade again he drags it up your thigh stopping when he reaches your sternum. Paralized in shock, fear and... Love? Your breaths slow down as he looks back up at you. "it's okay doll, just customising you a bit alright?". Proceeding to slowly carve his name into your torso. Each letter painfullfully deep and deliberately slow. Making you squirm with each slice. The muffled sobs bouncing around the room.

After he pumped 3 more loads into you he flopped onto his back and reaching for the smokes on his side table. Lighting one up puffing away nonchalantly. After he was done, he snuffed the cig putting it out above the I making the the dot above the I in Patrick.

Untying your wrist and you stared at the wall. Making his way to the bathroom and bring back a warm towel he kisses you for the first time tonight on your now dried up bloodied cheek.

Before tenderly wipeing the blood and dried tears off your face. You sat there on the bed not moving but concious just not moving. He got a second warm towel after the first one got drenched in blood to wipe down your torso and the rest of the dried blood off your body. "Get under the covers" his voice now softer. Before heading back to the bathroom to do his night ime routine. Getting under the blankets. Curling up into the fetal position despite the pain of the cuts in your torso screaming to stop. Trying to fall asleep. The lights flicked off and the bed dipped as Patrick got under the covers his warm body pressed up against your battered body. You were divided. You hated him more than ever you were scared, confused, angry, tired and yet your body seemed to move on its own. You sank back into his chest and arm as he pressed a kiss on the back of your neck. He was completely different than who he was 30 mins ago. You couldn't imagine the Patrick you saw in the office doing all that to you. You couldn't imagine the Patrick that cut you up pressing that soft tender kiss he just kissed on the back of your neck. Yet he did.

Note: y'all got the good ending smh I might write a different ending with more smut lol idk.

Lmao

[askagamedev]

How do *you* feel about the Activision-Microsoft merger?

Mergers and acquisitions are normal in business. Over the course of my career, I've seen several large industry publishers merge or acquire other publishers, and dozens of independent studios get purchased by publishers.

Sega merged with Sammy Corp. in 2004 to form Sega-Sammy. Later they bought Atlus.

EA merged with Pandemic Studios + Bioware in 2007

Bandai and Namco merged in 2007

Activision merged with Vivendi Universal's games division in 2008 to form Activision-Blizzard

Bungie was purchased by Microsoft in 2000, bought itself out to go independent again in 2007, and was recently acquired by Sony in 2022.

Activision-Blizzard merged with King in 2015

Microsoft acquired ZeniMax in 2020

EA acquired Glu Mobile in 2021

Embracer Group bought Gearbox in 2021

Take Two bought Zynga in 2022

These kinds of behaviors are fairly normal in any major industry. Smaller companies fall on hard times and a larger company offers a rescue. Old leadership grows weary of running the company and someone offers them a big payday. Two like-minded sets of leadership decide that they would work better together.

In my opinion, the danger comes when too much consolidation happens and, instead of a market with plenty of competition, you end up with a cartel. It's not quite a monopoly with a single controlling company, but it's pretty close - a cartel is a handful of enormous organizations/companies that control the vast majority of the market and collude with each other in order to keep competition down and enrich themselves. In such a situation, they don't have to compete as hard anymore because they can take turns and help each other out. Any rising competition either gets bought or sabotaged by the combined might of the cartel.

Usually this happens because the cost for entering the market is really high - it's really risky to take that chance to compete with the cartel, which makes the newcomers much more vulnerable to cartel countermeasures. You can see this kind of corporate nonsense at work in many fields here in the US - there are only a handful of telecom companies, internet service providers, meat packing companies, train companies, cloud computing services, and so on. A big sign you're dealing with a cartel is when there aren't many options and none of them are particularly appealing.

I don't think that's happened in video games yet - we still have large independent publishers like Take Two, Steam, and EA, and we have medium-sized independent publishers like Capcom, Sega-Sammy, Bandai-Namco, Epic, and so on. But if the mega-corps keep buying up the bigger publishers, we'll probably end up in cartel territory and everything will suck.

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