#not when i HAVE A job. a full-time one at that

[couch-house]

If you've been following me for a while you already know I'm going to tell you to vote for @themetalvirus's Egghog AU in @sonic-au-collision. You know I love drawing those funny little guys. But I think it might be a good idea to actually get into why I find them so compelling! I think any good AU is in conversation with canon,and egghogs is a certified Yapper.

Let's start with our hero, Amy!

Our canon Amy can be characterized by her deep compassion and optimism. As well as how Sonic has inspired her hero crush and motivated her to go out and put that compassion to work herself!* Egghog Amy has that same compassion, but what if she had no choice in being the hero? She had no one to look up to and inspire her, just the crushing weight of necessity. An Amy put in canon Sonic's position, who relies on unceasing and perhaps inappropriate optimism, but is still worn down by the weight of the world. I like this take on her, an exploration of where "toxic positivity" can get you.

*I think the classic IDW Amy characterization is a good example of this. As well as Fleetway Amys origin story heehee

Despite the stress of it all, she still has the optimism to see the best in people and believe they can change for the better. Like, for example, her crush: Egghog Sonic.

Just like canon Sonic, Eggy is a headstrong hedgehog defined by his own moral compass and his need to have a pretty good time. But while canon Sonic is defined by his love of freedom, independence, and by his "coolness," Egghog Sonic has been raised in Eggman's trap of control. He's just as headstrong, but in the opposite direction. His adoptive family is just as important to him as canon Sonic's friends, but in opposition to the good of the world. Where canon Sonic is personally reckless to protect others, Eggy is careless with the safety of others in service to his and his family's needs. Canon Sonic is capricious and relaxed, even in the face of danger, while Eggy is restrained, emotionally stunted, and stressed at all times.

Personally, I think that Egghog Sonic's fighting style being based in ballet--associated with control, restraint, and exclusivity by wealth--opposed to canon Sonic's fighting evoking breakdancing--a sport associated with creativity, play, and its origins as an urban art--does a great job on its own of juxtaposing the two Sonics.

But as I mentioned, even with his morals and freedom in opposition to canon, Egghog Sonic still has that essential connection to the people he cares about: his close-knit (read: highly controlled) family.

Egghog Sonic's younger brother Silver has all of canon Silver's accidental dickishness and ruthlessness, but without the humbling experience of surviving in a ruined future to keep him in check. Born and raised with a silver (ha) spoon in his mouth, Eggy Silver would be killed instantly by canon Silver's upbringing. All his worst qualities have been encouraged (as opposed to canon silver facing consequences for and learning from his flaws) and Eggy Silver is a huge fucking bitch. You know when Silver mugged Tails in Rivals? Okay now imagine if he was raised to do that as a child soldier. Now imagine he gets anything he wants whenever he asks. Thats Egghog Silver. When Silver defects from the Eggpire, we see that appreciation for the world and its history grow back where it belongs. It gives a better appreciation to what motivates canon Silver's view of the world, and recreates it in a new way.

Also the irony of Mr. I Must Fight For The Future's fucked up AU version of himself being part of the cause of the ruined future.... its delicious.

Finally, the oldest brother (by like a couple months...). We all know canon Shadow's had a rough time of it RE: mind control, manipulation, having a whole game where he is asked to be everyones gofer... This is Egghog Shadow's life for a full 15 years. Gerald doesn't finish cooking Egghog, and Eggman is the one to dump him out of the tube and raise him to be the perfect chaos-weilding soldier. He makes liberal use of his ability to physically manipulate Shadow's artificial mind to keep him in line as an endlessly obedient servant. Of course, any Shadow meaningfully based in canon won't stay that way. Just as his canon counterpart breaks free from the demands of those around him to forge his own path, so does Eggy Shadow. Even in the fucking miseries, even without a Maria, Shadow is still will make the choice to walk his own path.

Well, not just his own path. Because while Shadow (esp post-06 Shadow) can be uncompromisingly independent at times, he is still often defined by his friendships. Specifically, his relationship to Rouge is given focus in this AU, being his one reprieve from the empire and ultimately his way out. Canon Shadow had Rouge and Omega by his side during some of his darkest moments and arguably that made all the difference to his arc. Their presence (yes, Omega is here too) during Eggy Shadow's suffering is all the more essential and highlights their roles in canon.

But of course, with greater miseries comes greater struggle to heal. Canon Shadow's neat freak nature gets reinterpreted as a trauma response--maladaptive perfectionism and OCD. (tbc, in the same way fan works often recognize that canon Shadow likely lives with PTSD as a result of his experiences, Egghog Shadow's OCD is presented as an appropriate consequence of the stressful environment he's been raised in.) I like this as an exploration of how Shadow handles stress and trauma, how it might change in different circumstances.

All that to say, Egghog AU is just done in such a compelling way that really grabs me and facilitates Rambling about The Parallels and such. And that I think makes for a GREAT AU. The exploration of Sonic's strong personal morals and headstrong...ness, the benefits and flaws of Amy's intense optimism and compassion, Silver's ruthlessness and meaner side, and Shadow's tendency to introspection and overcorrection... Again I say, a good AU is one that is in conversation with canon, and Egghogs is constantly talking about the fascinating conflicts created by these characters. And thats why you should vote #Egghogs4Eggver

[viaka13]

This is true.

I worked nights at a job that is a LOT more involved than most people think, with a lot of shit that absolutely has to get done.

I am also mentally ill, and one of the issues I deal with is anxiety over mistakes, no matter how small. (Thanks Mom! /s)

Which means I over did it. I would spend my 9 hours shifts all but running, frantic that my efforts wouldn't be enough. I never thought they were, despite multiple managers commenting on how good a job I did, and how they had no idea how I did it. I developed an amazing reputation and one of the few good things about my efforts was that I got left alone to do my thing, with minimal interference from higher ups.

Sounds great, right? It wasn't. Over the course of several years, as I kept pushing, I stopped eating muxh, had a hard time sleeping, fucked up my foot and my shoulder (no idea how, my foot took 3 years to recover and it's been 4 years and I still don't have full range of motion back in my shoulder) I was angry and exhausted and stressed 24/7 and one day my lungs gave out.

Stress induced asthma. Bad enough that the ER doctors ran a lot of extra tests. Got a prescritionnfor an inhaler and went home.

Then it happened again a couple months later. Ambulance with sirens.

I quit my job, because I finally made the connection. Figured that would be enough to fix it.

Happened again, this time with my O2 down to 78. I was gray. My spouse was terrified. I felt that sense of impending doom thing people talk about when your body is shutting down.

It's been almost a year and a half since I quit my job. My lungs are improving slowly. I'm able to sleep better than I used to, although still not well. I almost literally killed myself for a job that wasn't that great to begin with. It wasn't worth it . Don't do what I did.

But seriously, if you keep pushing yourself past your mental or physical limits, it will catch up with you. You cannot live forever on three hours of sleep and caffeine and willpower. You cannot keep overpowering your very natural need to relax and recharge. If you don't treat both with care and respect, at some point your brain and your body will reach a point of breakdown and burnout - and any mental or physical conditions you may have tried to ignore and power through will kick your ass. So take that goddamn nap or that break now. Don't wait for yourself to shatter and fall apart before you tend to the cracks in your body and mind. Just because you may have the choice to ignore your limits right now doesn't mean it's the right thing to do. Take care of yourself now or you WILL regret it.

[cruel-as-sin]

take the weight off his shoulders | logan howlett

↳ summary: you're a stripper and old man!logan comes into the club where you work- so you decide to show him a good time.

word count: 3k

song: older | isabel larosa

pairings: old man!logan x fem!stripper!reader

content warnings: 18+ content (MDNI), smut, porn w/o plot, prostitution/strip clubs, age gap (readers age is unspecified but she is an adult), praise kink, gentle sex, striptease and lapdance hehe, size difference, protected p in v, grinding, handjob, lingerie mentioned, the glasses stay on, practice safe sex everyone (lmk if i missed anything!)

↳ a/n: ao3 saw this first and it took way too long for me to move it over to tumblr but. here it is lmao. as i said there old man logan does something CRAZY to me so it was only fitting i wrote about him, enjoy! also this is not proofread so apologies for any mistakes :’)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Logan's not sure why he goes into the club across the street.

Maybe he needs to feel young again. Maybe he's bored. Maybe the adamantium poisoning the rest of him has finally managed to get to his brain and turned his thoughts into some sort of horny, befuddled shit show.

Or maybe, just maybe, he really is just that fucking desperate.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It's past midnight when he walks through the door. You've been busy all night, but things are finally starting to wind down, the customers that frequent the small establishment slowly trickling out until only a few remain. None of them are your regulars, and given how empty the doorway has been, you're honestly considering calling it a night and going home early. The past few days have been hellish, full of people who didn't do a damn thing to turn you on, and you'd love nothing more than to sink into a warm, cozy bed and drift off to sleep. Tonight, you've been roaming the floor for the past hour without getting anything- everybody is either interested in another one of the workers or entirely fixated on the dancers.

It's not that you don't like your job- you do. Sure, being a stripper isn't the most flattering form of work, but the bills are paid. That's all that really counts these days. Your pride has long since been discarded in favor of earning hefty tips from the sleazy guys who are dumb enough to believe that you'd actually be into them. You put on a good show, of course, but if it weren't for the money? Not a fucking chance.

You like it that way. Hardly any of your clients go beyond the intimacy of a private dance, mainly because you don't let them, reserving that for your favorites. But you haven't met someone who turns you on in a long while, and without the occasional thrill of a real good time from a customer, you're starting to get bored. The days are blurring together, nothing separating the good days from the bad ones, if there even is such a thing anymore.

You're on your way to ask your boss if you can get off early when you hear the bell ring. You groan internally, realizing that you're the only one on the floor who isn't occupied, meaning if this client is interested, they're yours.

Damn it.

So much for an early night.

You're midway through praying to whatever God is out there that this client tips well when you turn and actually lay eyes on them. The moment you do, your mind goes blank, your prayers long forgotten as your thoughts become consumed by him.

He's older- much older. Pushing sixty, at least. It's not inherently a bad thing, but typically the older they are, the more entitled they become.

You're not usually into older men, finding them self-centered, greedy, unable to keep up with your desires; but you're not even ashamed to admit that this stranger could ask you to do just about anything and you'd probably agree in a heartbeat.

The man is tall, big, his muscular form obvious even underneath the suit and tie he wears. His salt and pepper hair is short, accompanied by a scruffy beard you're certain would feel like heaven against your thighs. His tie is loose, his top button undone, and he's got on a pair of dollar-store glasses that he hasn't even pulled the tag off of. There's a weight to him, an exhaustion that seems to have infiltrated the deepest parts of his soul, as if he's seen things you couldn't even begin to fathom- and yet, he's here, seeking some semblance of relief.

Lucky for him, you know exactly how to give it to him.

He looks around like he's lost, the colorful lights and sultry music overwhelming, the center stage where your coworkers get dollar bills thrown at their feet foreign to him. By the time you've made your way over, your legs moving of their own accord, he's turning to leave. "Hey." You call out, and he stops, turning back around to face you.

He's even bigger up close, and his eyes roam over your form almost shamefully before finally meeting your own. "I was just leaving." His voice is rough, a little scratchy, and while you're sure it's supposed to be intimidating, all it does is further fuel the heat pooling between your legs.

"So soon?" You look up at him with a doe-eyed gaze you're well aware makes men weak in the knees.

"I shouldn't be here." He says, but he doesn't walk away from you.

You move a little closer so your breath is fanning across his neck, your voice dripping with suggestion. "I could show you a good time."

"Listen, sweetheart, I've got-"

Sweetheart.

"Let me take care of you." You lean up to whisper in his ear. Your breath is hot against his skin, your mouth tantalizingly close, and you can feel the way he twitches slightly- an exercise of self-control.

A moment passes, two, and he lets out a long breath. "Fuck, darlin'." He reaches out, hesitant to touch, as if he's not sure how this works, doesn’t want to cross some invisible line he hasn’t learned exists. You take his hand, guiding it to your waist, reaching up to put one hand on the back of his neck. "You sure know how to get a guy wrapped around your finger."

In response, you give a coy smile, taking his tie in one hand and giving it a soft tug. He allows you to guide him, pulling him along by the tie you're sure he has a million ideas of what to do with.

You lead him into a private room, pulling the curtain closed behind you, letting his tie slip out of your grasp. His eyes dart around for a moment, but then you're in front of him again, reaching up and sliding his blazer off of his shoulders. You hang it up on the wall, then return, now slowly guiding him backwards and giving him a gentle shove into the leather chair near the wall. He raises an eyebrow as you circle him, leaning in from behind to whisper in his ear. "Just relax." You murmur, letting your lips graze his neck before pulling away. He leans back, eyes following your every move, a stare that feels like it could set you on fire.

You put on a good show for him- dancing, teasing, tantalizingly close, but never touching. Not yet. You can see the hunger in his gaze, the restraint it takes for him not to pull you down into his lap and keep you there. You give him a strip tease, taking off your bra and letting your breasts go free. His eyes roam over you, a murmured word, "Beautiful," leaving his lips, and that makes your already soaked panties drenched.

Then you give him a lap dance- and unlike most of the men you meet, he doesn't touch, doesn't paw at you. Instead he waits, lets you set the pace, doesn't do anything without your permission. Your hands go to his tie, undoing it at a speed you know is killing him, tossing it aside.

Finally, you rest yourself entirely on his lap, and whisper in his ear. "You can touch now, if you want to."

His hands immediately settle on your hips, like they belong there. You grind down against him, feeling him tense beneath you at the friction against his clothed cock. You repeat the motion, relishing in the groan it elicits from him. His grip on your hips tightens slightly, and he begins to guide your motions, pressing you down against his thigh in a way that makes you moan. It's a small, soft sound, but it still makes him smile. “Atta girl, that’s it.” He huffs approvingly. You keep going, feeling yourself almost get lost in the rhythmic movement before you come back to your senses.

Your hands move to the collar of his shirt, slowly beginning to undo the buttons, revealing his toned chest. You only get about halfway down before his hands are gripping your wrists, and your protest dies on your lips when he leans up and kisses you.

He tastes like cigar smoke and whiskey, a blend that should be uncomfortable but is somehow pleasant. His tongue slips into your mouth, tangling with yours as he pulls you closer. By the time he finally pulls away for air, you're dizzy, flushed.

A kiss- almost as personal as a name.

You've never met a man who could make you feel like this- and certainly not without getting all your clothes off first.

His words snap you out of your breathless haze. "Let me touch you, baby." His voice is both a plea and a demand, and who are you to deny him such a request?

A simple nod is all it takes before his hands are on you, roving over your breasts with an appreciative groan. You can't help the way your hips rock against him, and one of his hands goes down to your ass, encouraging you to grind against him again. His other hand rolls your nipple between his thumb and index finger, while his mouth leaves sloppy kisses along your neck, down to your breasts.

You bury your face in his neck, breathing him in. His head comes up from your chest to whisper in your ear as he keeps your hips moving back and forth, his other hand alternating between your breasts. His skin muffles your moans, but you know he won't let you hide those pretty sounds from him forever. "You're so perfect." His words don't exactly do you any favors in the 'keeping your composure' department. "Sweet, pretty thing like you..." He nips at your earlobe, making you gasp softly. "You got no idea what you do to me."

Those words snap you back a little, remind you of your promise to take care of him. You raise your head up, leaning back a little to meet his eyes. "Then show me." Your hands reach down towards his belt, and this time, he doesn't stop you. Instead, his gaze roams over you as you unbuckle it, slowly pull it out of the loops of his pants, toss it aside, letting it join the other discarded articles littering the floor. You undo the buttons, then pull his pants down.

Even through his boxers, you can clearly see the outline of his aching hardness. You gently take him in your palm, running your hand along him through the fabric, watching the way his eyes flutter. Then you adjust yourself so you're grinding on him again, thin layers of clothing the only thing separating the two of you.

You go on like that for a little while, keeping track of every little sound he makes, every hitch of his breath and shudder that goes through his body. Then you lean back, pulling his boxers down, freeing his cock from the confines of his clothing.

Immediately, your mouth waters. He's huge, the biggest you've ever seen, and you find yourself wondering if you even can take him.

You push that thought aside for now, swiping your thumb across his tip, smiling to yourself at the groan that leaves him. You repeat the motion, letting precum gather on your fingers as you begin to move your hand up and down, up and down. You start slow, stroking him gently, then gradually increase your pace. Midway through, you grab a condom with your other hand, keeping eye contact as you open the wrapper with your teeth. You roll it onto him in one smooth motion, earning a startled grunt. His head falls back, his breaths coming unevenly, and it takes him a while before he can manage a coherent sentence.

"Fuck, you treat every guy like this?" Even with all the energy he can muster, the words are still a little short.

Your smile widens, and you lean in to press a kiss against the vein of his throat. "Only the good ones."

His mouth opens, as if to argue with the notion that he's anything good, but your ever-faster movements silence any protests that could have come from him.

You can tell he's getting close, and you slow down, letting him breathe a little slower as you whisper a soft question. "Where do you want me? You want my mouth, you want-"

Your words are cut off by his hand cupping your clothed mound, a gasp escaping you. "I want this." His voice is rough, and this time, it's not a plea. He leans in, his breath hot against your ear as you unconsciously begin to move against his hand, chasing any friction he can give you. "I think it's a little unfair, seeing how I'm all out in the open and you've still got these," His thumb hooks in the waistband of your panties. "Separating me from you, hmm?

You don't even answer, just raise your hips up slightly so he can tug your lingerie down your legs until it falls and hits the floor. Immediately, his gaze lands on your exposed cunt. "Jesus, you're soaked." He murmurs, running his fingers through your slick. You whine as he brushes against your clit, and he chuckles. "Need me that bad, huh?"

"Need you." You whine. You can tell he wants to take it slow, to tease you, and by god do you want to let him- but you're impatient, your own teasing having riled you up too much to do anything but fuck him. Luckily, he picks up on your silent request, raising your hips to hover above his cock. His gaze searches yours, waiting for permission, and you nod. "Fuck me." You say softly, and it takes everything in him not to come completely fucking undone at that sweet tone of voice.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he lowers you down onto him. It burns, in a delicious way you've come to love in your years here. Even with the sheer amount of wetness coming from you, it's still a struggle to make him fit- but he does. When you've finally sank all the way down onto his cock, he lets you breathe for a moment. "You can take it, baby." He murmurs reassuringly- a support and a chance for you to back out. You close your eyes, breathing in and out, resting your face in the crook of his neck again.

Then you start to move.

It takes him by surprise, and you like the grunt that comes from him. For someone of his age, you're sure not much can catch him off guard anymore, so that makes it all the better when you lean back to see the look on his face. He catches your small smirk and returns it with one of his own, letting you move yourself up and down, over and over. Your pace slowly increases as the two of you adjust, and the room is soon filled with soft noises and the sound of flesh against flesh.

It's slow, almost sensual, but despite the circumstances that should have you turning this in another direction, you like it. You feel that familiar coil building in your stomach, your soft whimpers turning to moans now.

"You gonna come for me, baby?"

All you can do is nod, and he rocks his hips up into yours. The way he fills you up is mind-numbing, until you can't think of anything else but him and how fucking good he's making you feel, how badly you need to come undone on his cock.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" Your voice takes on a sharp pitch as he thrusts up into you, and your vision goes white for a moment as your orgasm hits you, unending bliss shaking your whole body. He rides out your orgasm for as long as he can, but the tight feeling of your cunt clenching around him soon sends him over the edge too. You can feel him twitching inside you, only prolonging the aftershocks of your own pleasure.

Eventually, you both come down. You're breathing heavily, trying to scramble together any semblance of thought. He stands suddenly, picking you up like you weigh nothing and setting you down on the chair. His cock slips out of you at some point during the process, leaving you feeling empty. You sit there for a moment before opening your eyes, finding him pulling his pants up and buckling his belt. He meets your gaze with a hint of a fond smile, bending over to grab his tie.

You stand up to retrieve your own clothes, pulling them back on while he shoves his arms through the sleeves of his blazer and rifles through his pockets, eventually pulling out his wallet. "Um, how much do I owe you?"

He looks almost embarrassed, and you find it kind of adorable. You flash him a smile, saying words you never thought you'd dare to let pass your lips. "Nothing. It's on me."

Immediately, his eyebrow shoots up. "No, I can't... I can't let you do that, pretty girl."

You shake your head. "I insist. Nobody's ever fucked me like that, and certainly not any of my clients." You see the way your words boost his ego- good. He deserves it. "Besides, if you hadn't showed up, I'd have gone home anyway." You say nonchalantly, taking a few steps over to him. You reach up and put a finger to his lips before he can continue to argue. "It's on the house."

Although he still looks conflicted, he reluctantly nods. "Okay. Next time, then."

Next time.

You feel a thrill run through your body as he brings up the prospect of a next time, and your smile widens. "Next time." You affirm. You step back, letting him be on his way.

He moves towards the curtain, pausing before he goes. "See you around, sweetheart."

And just like that, he's gone.

But you don't miss him- because you know he'll be back.

So when you finally make it home and climb into bed after that warm shower, there's still a fond smile on your face as you drift off to sleep, dreaming of the weary stranger and his wonderful words.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Kickstarting a new Martin Hench novel about the dawn of enshittification

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

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/07/weird-pcs/#a-mormon-bishop-an-orthodox-rabbi-and-a-catholic-priest-walk-into-a-personal-computing-revolution

Picks and Shovels is a new, standalone technothriller starring Marty Hench, my two-fisted, hard-fighting, tech-scam-busting forensic accountant. You can pre-order it on my latest Kickstarter, which features a brilliant audiobook read by @wilwheaton:

http://martinhench.com

This is the third Hench novel, following on from the nationally bestselling The Bezzle (2024) and Red Team Blues (2023). I wrote Red Team Blues with a funny conceit: what if I wrote the final volume of a beloved, long-running series, without writing the rest of the series? Turns out, the answer is: "Your editor will buy a whole bunch more books in the series!"

My solution to this happy conundrum? Write the Hench books out of chronological order. After all, Marty Hench is a financial hacker who's been in Silicon Valley since the days of the first PCs, so he's been there for all the weird scams tech bros have dreamed up since Jobs and Woz were laboring in their garage over the Apple I. He's the Zelig of high-tech fraud! Look hard at any computing-related scandal and you'll find Marty Hench in the picture, quietly and competently unraveling the scheme, dodging lawsuits and bullets with equal aplomb.

Which brings me to Picks and Shovels. In this volume, we travel back to Marty's first job, in the 1980s – the weird and heroic era of the PC. Marty ended up in the Bay Area after he flunked out of an MIT computer science degree (he was too busy programming computers to do his classwork), and earning his CPA at a community college.

Silicon Valley in the early eighties was wild: Reaganomics stalked the land, the AIDS crisis was in full swing, the Dead Kennedys played every weekend, and man were the PCs ever weird. This was before the industry crystalized into Mac vs PC, back when no one knew what they were supposed to look like, who was supposed to use them, and what they were for.

Marty's first job is working for one of the weirder companies: Fidelity Computing. They sound like a joke: a computer company run by a Mormon bishop, a Catholic priest and an orthodox rabbi. But the joke's on their customers, because Fidelity Computing is a scam: a pyramid sales cult that exploits religious affinities to sell junk PCs that are designed to lock customers in and squeeze them for every dime. A Fidelity printer only works with Fidelity printer paper (they've gimmicked the sprockets on the tractor-feed). A Fidelity floppy drive only accepts Fidelity floppies (every disk is sold with a single, scratched-out sector and the drives check for an error on that sector every time they run).

Marty figures out he's working for the bad guys when they ask him to destroy Computing Freedom, a scrappy rival startup founded by three women who've escaped from Fidelity Computing's cult: a queer orthodox woman who's been kicked out of her family; a radical nun who's thrown in with the Liberation Theology movement in opposing America's Dirty Wars; and a Mormon woman who's quit the church in disgust at its opposition to the Equal Rights Amendment. The women of Computing Freedom have a (ahem) holy mission: to free every Fidelity customer from the prison they were lured into.

Marty may be young and inexperienced, but he can spot a rebel alliance from a light year away and he knows what side he wants to be on. He joins the women in their mission, and we're deep into a computing war that quickly turns into a shooting war. Turns out the Reverend Sirs of Fidelity Computer aren't just scammers – they're mobbed up, and willing to turn to lethal violence to defend their racket.

This is a rollicking crime thriller, a science fiction novel about the dawn of the computing revolution. It's an archaeological expedition to uncover the fossil record of the first emergence of enshittification, a phenomenon that was born with the PC and its evil twin, the Reagan Revolution.

The book comes out on Feb 15 in hardcover and ebook from Macmillan (US/Canada) and Bloomsbury (UK), but neither publisher is doing the audiobook. That's my department.

Why? Well, I love audiobooks, and I especially love the audiobooks for this series, because they're read by the incredible Wil Wheaton, hands down my favorite audiobook narrator. But that's not why I retain my audiobook rights and produce my own audiobooks. I do that because Amazon's Audible service refuses to carry any of my audiobooks.

Here's how that works: Audible is a division of Amazon, and they've illegally obtained a monopoly over the audiobook market, controlling more than 90% of audiobook sales in many genres. That means that if your book isn't for sale on Audible, it might as well not exist.

But Amazon won't let you sell your books on Audible unless you let them wrap those books in "digital rights management," a kind of encryption that locks them to Audible's authorized players. Under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, it's a felony punishable with a 5-year sentence and a $500k fine to supply you with a tool to remove an audiobook from Audible and play it on a rival app. That applies even if the person who gives you the tool is the creator of the book!

You read that right: if I make an audiobook and then give you the tools to move it out of Amazon's walled garden, I could go to prison for five years! That's a stiffer sentence than you'd face if you were to just pirate the audiobook. It's a harsher penalty than you'd get for shoplifting the book on CD from a truck-stop. It's more draconian than the penalty for hijacking the truck that delivers the CDs!

Amazon knows that every time you buy an audiobook from Audible, you increase the cost you'll have to pay if you switch to a competitor. They use that fact to give readers a worse deal (last year they tried out ads in audiobooks!). But the people who really suffer under this arrangement are the writers, whom Amazon abuses with abandon, knowing they can't afford to leave the service because their readers are locked into it. That's why Amazon felt they could get away with stealing $100 million from indie audiobook creators (and yup, they got away with it):

https://www.audiblegate.com/about

Which is why none of my books can be sold with DRM. And that means that Audible won't carry any of them.

For more than a decade, I've been making my own audiobooks, in partnership with the wonderful studio Skyboat Media and their brilliant director, Gabrielle de Cuir:

https://skyboatmedia.com/

I pay fantastic narrators a fair wage for their work, then I pay John Taylor Williams, the engineer who masters my podcasts, to edit the books and compose bed music for the intro and outro. Then I sell the books at every store in the world – except Audible and Apple, who both have mandatory DRM. Because fuck DRM.

Paying everyone a fair wage is expensive. It's worth it: the books are great. But even though my books are sold at many stores online, being frozen out of Audible means that the sales barely register.

That's why I do these Kickstarter campaigns, to pre-sell thousands of audiobooks in advance of the release. I've done six of these now, and each one was a huge success, inspiring others to strike out on their own, sometimes with spectacular results:

https://www.usatoday.com/story/entertainment/books/2022/04/01/brandon-sanderson-kickstarter-41-million-new-books/7243531001/

Today, I've launched the Kickstarter for Picks and Shovels. I'm selling the audiobook and ebook in DRM-form, without any "terms of service" or "license agreement." That means they're just like a print book: you buy them, you own them. You can read them on any equipment you choose to. You can sell them, give them away, or lend them to friends. Rather than making you submit to 20,000 words of insulting legalese, all I ask of you is that you don't violate copyright law. I trust you!

Speaking of print books: I'm also pre-selling the hardcover of Picks and Shovels and the paperbacks of The Bezzle and Red Team Blues, the other two Marty Hench books. I'll even sign and personalize them for you!

http://martinhench.com

I'm also offering five chances to commission your own Marty Hench story – pick your favorite high-tech finance scam from the past 40 years of tech history, and I'll have Marty bust it in a custom short story. Once the story is published, I'll make sure you get credit. Check out these two cool Little Brother stories my previous Kickstarter backers commissioned:

Spill

https://reactormag.com/spill-cory-doctorow/

Vigilant

https://reactormag.com/vigilant-cory-doctorow/

I'm heading out on tour this winter and spring with the book. I'll be in LA, San Francisco, San Diego, Burbank, Bloomington, Chicago, Richmond VA, Toronto, NYC, Boston, Austin, DC, Baltimore, Seattle, and other dates still added. I've got an incredible roster of conversation partners lined up, too: John Hodgman, Charlie Jane Anders, Dan Savage, Ken Liu, Peter Sagal, Wil Wheaton, and others.

I hope you'll check out this book, and come out to see me on tour and say hi. Before I go, I want to leave you with some words of advance praise for Picks and Shovels:

I hugely enjoyed Picks and Shovels. Cory Doctorow’s reconstruction of the age is note perfect: the detail, the atmosphere, ethos, flavour and smell of the age is perfectly conveyed. I love Marty and Art and all the main characters. The hope and the thrill that marks the opening section. The superb way he tells the story of the rise of Silicon Valley (to use the lazy metonym), inserting the stories of Shockley, IBM vs US Government, the rise of MS – all without turning journalistic or preachy.

The seeds of enshittification are all there… even in the sunlight of that time the shadows are lengthening. AIDS of course, and the coming scum tide of VCs. In Orwellian terms, the pigs are already rising up on two feet and starting to wear trousers. All that hope, all those ideals…

I love too the thesis that San Francisco always has failed and always will fail her suitors.

Despite cultural entropy, enshittification, corruption, greed and all the betrayals there’s a core of hope and honour in the story too.

-Stephen Fry

Cory Doctorow writes as few authors do, with tech world savvy and real world moral clarity. A true storyteller for our times.

-John Scalzi

A crackling, page-turning tumble into an unexpected underworld of queer coders, Mission burritos, and hacker nuns. You will fall in love with the righteous underdogs of Computing Freedom—and feel right at home in the holy place Doctorow has built for them far from Silicon Valley’s grabby, greedy hands."

-Claire Evans, editor of Motherboard Future, author of Broad Band: The Untold Story of the Women Who Made the Internet.

"Wonderful…evokes the hacker spirit of the early personal computer era—and shows how the battle for software freedom is eternal."

-Steven Levy, author of Hackers: Heroes of the Computer Revolution and Facebook: The Inside Story.

What could be better than a Martin Hench thriller set in 1980s San Francisco that mixes punk rock romance with Lotus spreadsheets, dot matrix printers and religious orders? You'll eat this up – I sure did.

-Tim Wu, Special Assistant to the President for Technology and Competition Policy, author of The Master Switch: The Rise and Fall of Information Empires

Captures the look and feel of the PC era. Cory Doctorow draws a portrait of a Silicon Valley and San Francisco before the tech bros showed up — a startup world driven as much by open source ideals as venture capital gold.

-John Markoff, Pulitzer-winning tech columnist for the New York Times and author of What the Doormouse Said: How the Sixties Counterculture Shaped the Personal Computer Industry

You won't put this book down – it's too much fun. I was there when it all began. Doctorow's characters and their story are real.

-Dan'l Lewin, CEO and President of the Computer History Museum

[peachesofteal]

I know Azriel has amassed a ton of wealth over centuries from doing the dirtiest work, and rarely spends it. He's never really had a need to. Of course, he buys gifts for his family, covers tabs at Rita's, buys himself things, essentials, etc but when it comes to spending for enjoyment or spending to indulge, it just doesn't happen.

He's not looking for reasons, either, until he literally stumbles into one.

You trip and fall into him in the Palace of Thread and Jewels. Trip over something on the ground, get twisted up, and flail forward, right into his path. You're rose and pink pepper, floral, sharp, sweet in a way he cannot fathom, and he doesn't think before stopping your fall. He just reacts, grabbing you around the arms and pulling you upright, holding you steady as you recalibrate your balance, looking up into his face, eyes shining bright like the stars. They're brilliant, full of life, but lined with an undercurrent of stress, of worry, he does not understand.

You're fumbling over an apology as he studies you, scrutinizing every detail on your face, down to the chap of your lips.

He's never seen a High Fae look so... off before, and they're not known to be clumsy.

"Are you alright?" It's polite to inquire, he assures himself, it's the right thing to do.

"I'm fine," you smile but it doesn't touch your eyes, "thanks. Sorry about that. I wasn't watching where I was going." He's unsure what to say next but before he can come up with something, you're giving him a quick thank you, and then disappearing into market.

He thinks about you that night. Wonders about you, as he stares at the bedroom ceiling. You obviously weren't well. Maybe he should have done more. It's his duty, isn't it? To Velaris? To care for it and its citizens, to protect them. Or at least, you. Do something to care for you, protect you.

He's not sure what to do, so he pushes the lingering questions from his mind.

And then the following week, he sees you at Rita's.

You're waiting tables, waltzing across the floor delivering drinks with a smile, the same one that slips away as soon as you're out of sight. Your shoulders slump as you stand at the corner of the bar, covering your mouth with your palm, yawning into it again and again.

Maybe he should do something, maybe you need a healer, maybe he could help-

No. He shouldn't. You probably wouldn't want him to, anyway. Right?

He shakes it off, tries to shake you off but can't stop himself from watching every step you take, trying to diagnose the problem.

It takes too long for it to click.

You're not sick, or clumsy.

You're exhausted, and it makes him irrationally angry, fills him with a need to drag you away from Rita's and tuck you up into a house somewhere, a place you'll never have to lift a finger again if you so choose. A place where you could be taken care of-

maybe even by him.

It takes him very little time to find the ramshackle duplex you live in on the outskirts of town, the roof too sloped, the wooden steps too rotted, the siding too loose.

It makes him uneasy, makes his skin crawl. Why are you here, in a place like this? Who has allowed this?

Why does a place like this even exist when Velaris has such wealth?

He begins to play a game, and at first, he tells himself it's to make himself feel better, that he's doing it for selfish reasons.

It's winter, and you don't have gloves, so he buys a pair and the shadows deposit them on your front step, and it makes the sick feeling in his stomach go away. For a few days.

When it returns, he buys you a hat, and this time, he delivers it himself, eager to see your reaction.

He doesn't expect to see the gloves still sitting on the porch, and he frowns. Did you not see them? Did you not like them? He leaves the hat at their side and lurks on the roof of the house across from yours, hiding in shadow, in wait.

The sun is still rising when you leave for your first job of the day, and you stop short at the sight of the hat. He perks up, expecting to see you relax with relief, or happiness, but is left confused when you hold the hat in your hands for a moment, reverently tracing the stitching, before dropping it back next to the gloves.

Why? You need these things. They're being given anonymously, alleviating some of awkwardness of accepting gifts, and he had hoped it would spare you from feelings of obligation or embarrassment. Perhaps you are too proud, he wonders, but shadows echo a different sentiment, one of distrust, of wariness.

The gifts scare you.

The guilt churns the bile in his stomach, and he flexes his fingers into fists before flying away, cursing himself the whole way home.

Idiot.

You're very surprised when he approaches you on your walk from the Palace to Rita's, so much so that you jerk to a dead stop, staring at him with your mouth dropped open as he tries to explain he has something to give you.

Yes, he knows you don't know him. Yes, he's aware how strange this is.

Yes, you will be taking this scarf whether you like it or not.

"I'm sorry?"

"This is for you." He extends the scarf towards you, holding his breath. Your eyes narrow.

"Have you been leaving things on my porch?"

"Yes." There's no point in lying. He's standing here trying to gift you a scarf, for Cauldron's sake.

"Why?" Your voice is tight, anxious, and he wishes there was a way he could reassure you without frightening you further.

"You needed them." It comes off as arrogant, but he doesn't care. He's getting to the point where he's past caring, where he's past watching you freeze and work yourself to the bone. His jaw is clenched so tight the muscles are straining, and it takes effort to steady his voice. "You're freezing."

"I-"

"I want you to have this." Just take it. The shadows skitter around him, trawling across the brick to where you stand, and you glance at them briefly, surprisingly unafraid, before looking back at him. He expects a fight, some kind of resistance, but it's all been bled dry. The only thing he sees is defeat, and it stings. You're suffering, you're suffering and he's got everything he could ever want, material wise, and then some. "Please," he murmurs, stepping forward, and you shake your head.

"I shouldn't."

"It's just a gift, I don't expect anything in return."

"You say that now." Your voice trembles. Anger cracks like lightning through his veins. Is this what you fear? A transaction? An exchange for help? There are only so many things one could want in a situation like this, and all of the them fill him with rage.

"I promise you," his voice is steel, firm and unrelenting, "I want nothing in return."

"You promise." It's not a question, and you won't meet his gaze, but he pushes on.

"I do." You reach for it hesitantly and wrap it around your neck, tucking your chin into the softly spun wool, cheeks lifting in a very small, shy smile. Good girl.

He chose perfectly. It complements your skin, your eyes, illuminates your already striking beauty.

"I... thank you. This is really nice. It's lovely." The shadows hum, and he secretly preens, the warmth in his chest spreading as you tell him your name.

"I'm Azriel," he says in return, and you nod.

"I know." You sigh, and look past him, down the street to where he knows your work awaits. "I have to go."

Or he could take you. It's tempting, so, so tempting. It's wicked, and rotten, but satisfying at the same time, and it soothes the reckless pieces of him calling out to you.

No. He shouldn't. He settles on a different course instead.

"I'll see you soon." Your brow furrows.

"You will?" He nods, spreading his wings, preparing to launch into the sky, pleased by how you marvel at them.

"And you'll wear both the gloves and hat when you're outside from now on." Your lips part with surprise. "Yes?" It takes a beat, and then two-

"Yes."

[agirlinthegalaxy]

Hi! Fellow person with an English degree, along with working for an academic company that has a short college textbook about AI! One of the things that was discussed was hallucinations, which is incorrect information that AI presents as fact. Because the thing is, AI isn't capable of critical thought on its own. It takes in all of this information from the internet, but, as well all know, the Internet isn't inherently a trustworthy source of information and AI isn't capable of actually verifying this information.

One of the ways that we demonstrated this in our textbook is by inputting "Who won the 2022 presidential election?" This was using a previous ChatGPT model, but it actually would answer the question genuinely as if there had been a 2022 presidential election. Another way that I found personally is that I would begin discussing television shows and push it, and without fail, it always began making a lot of errors about obvious plot points and would be unable to keep it straight. Here's an input where I ask for an explanation of the finale of the Charmed (1998) series. (Spoilers for that ahead, but also the show ended nearly twenty years ago, so.)

While a lot of people probably don't know a lot about the show, here's the most relevant part: the entire Ultimate Power section is a complete fabrication because, while they exist, they're distinct characters with a completely different background. (And before anyone says anything, the point isn't about how recognizable the show is, it's about the AI literally makes up false information and presents it as truth when it's very easily disproved.)

Another way of illustrating AI's hallucinations is asking an either/or question, presuming that an event happens. Now, in full transparency, I have not read Dracula since 2021/2022, but I'm about eighty percent sure that this is an example of a hallucination. If not, my apologies, but I'm sure you can find a hallucination if you input it enough similar statements.

Beyond clearly just knowing what is accurate or not, AI also, like the previous OP said, doesn't know what is important. In many classes, when you're discussing some kind of novel, small details will of vital importance whether it about character, plot, or theme of the book. Demonstrated by one of my professors who asked us about the symbolism of the horse that Thomas Sutpen rode into town in the beginning of Absalom, Absalom only to very loudly proclaim that it was between his legs as a phallic symbol, which honestly was probably correct with the author William Faulkner being who he is. Side note, but he was a weird man, and I still don't like his works. If I was a student in that class today, here are the two different shortcuts I could have gotten.

(ChatGPT)

(SparkNotes)

Between the two, even disregarding that SparkNotes' summary is four paragraphs to ChatGPT's three (since the girl in the og Twitter post used three), SparkNotes just provides so much more information and detail. I'd argue that ChatGPT doesn't even summarize it efficiently anyways. So if you're just trying to cheat for class, ChatGPT still isn't a good option.

But I think the worst thing is that the people in the original Twitter convo aren't even reading for class. They're (presumably) reading for enjoyment, which makes it so much more bizarre to me. Because the thing is, and this is a rare one for me to say, you don't... have to read if you don't enjoy it? Once you've left school, very few places (unless you intentionally opt into it or have a very specific job) will make you read novels in your free time. Furthermore, I really can't fathom problems that ChatGPT solves that, say, an audiobook can't? Discussing these two specific instances individually:

If you're wanting to learn more about what Aristotle said in more readable English, baby, he's Aristotle. I can almost guarantee you that there is some kind of book out there, or even something online if you'd like to use the Internet, explaining his philosophy in easier to understand terms. Also with philosophy, I think that "main gist" can be a bit of a trick in of itself because it's designed to make you think critically about these ideas. Sometimes, the "main gist" is even the opposite of what they may seemingly be arguing because they're mocking it.

As for reading a book recommendation by a friend. ... girlie pop, you literally could just not read the book. I've gotten plenty of book recommendations that I've never read and my friends are not insulted at it. If it's a bid for connection, I'd argue that this is more insulting than simply not reading it because if you don't want to invest the time into it, that's fine but this weird shortcut way as if it's beneath your time is... oof. But especially if you want to discuss it, because AI will not include every beat and a lot of a novel is in the way it's written, the pacing or tension, etc. Things that an AI summary can't define out for you to have an actual meaningful conversation. That's something I do when I see a movie that looks halfway interesting but don't care enough to actually sit down and watch it. And even then, I'd never go back to that friend and act like I actually consumed that media; I'd probably just say that it sounds good because I still have not actually truthfully engaged with it!

This is a very long post, but I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about AI, especially in classes, literature, and media in general. Most of them are very negative, but I mean, please don't hand over your critical thinking of what you're consuming to artificial intelligence. Its intelligence is artificial; yours is not.

what is HAPPENING

[notapradagurl7]

When He’s Not There.

Black! Fem!Wife! Reader x Terrence

Fandom: Foe (2023) Movie.

Summary: In 2036, you reside in a high-tech home with your wealthy husband, Arlo. One night, a striking 6'3" stranger named Terrence, representing a company focused on off-Earth habitation, arrives. While he engages Arlo in conversation, while your husband is away, you find yourself alone in the kitchen, preparing dinner. Visited by him.

Word Count: 4697k

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @satoruya @planetblaque @playgurlxoxo @babybratzmaraj @becauseimswagman1 @superheroprincess22 @pocketsizedpanther @beenathembo @brattyfics @hxneyclouds @yassbishimvintage @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaesworld @ovohanna24 @novahreign @writingsbytee @avoidthings @kimuzostar @slippinninque @keyera-jackson @theblacklewinsky @euphorichappiness10 @life-in-the-slut-house @miguelspvssy @liatreads @kaylaahisthebestest- @tforpresz @dxddykenn

A/N: I want to step out of my writing comfort zone but anyway, Don't forget to leave a like, comment & reblog to support, or you can always ask for a request Enjoy!❤️

Warnings: +18, dirty talk, praise, cheating, consensual for both parties, fingering, oral,(fem receiving) angst, teasing, an intimidating Terrence, risky sex in the living room, neglectful husband, strange questions about marital issues, profanity, p in v, jealousy, masochist Terrence, BDSM, unprotected sex.

————-

The moonlight peeked through the bedroom window and you groaned out of your peaceful sleep, once you heard a knock on the front door. You quickly stood with your husband Arlo from the bed, you grabbed the rifle from the side of your dresser in your high-tech home.

You heard a woman's computerized voice on the small holographic screen resting on the dresser, “You have a visitor at midnight, Terrence,” 

Your mom taught you how to shoot properly when you were thirteen, she wasn't too fond of Arlo when you got married too early, he’s been neglecting you and he’s been working full time at his CEO corporate job.

“Who the fuck is knocking on my door at this time of night?” Arlo grumbled lowly, groaning a bit with his raspy voice.

“It's probably that man from the off-earth habitation company sweetheart,” You mumbled back, rubbing the traces of sleep from your brown eyes.

Arlo’s face twisted up at the words “man,” he slid on his black tee shirt and pulled up his grey loose pants, zipping them up. Running a hand through his tiny curled afro, the lamp light glistened on his brown skin. 

You’d almost forgotten that you were sent a letter from a company for Off-Earth habitation aka living in space, it was sent to your husband instead. It was quite strange.

“You’ve talked to the man before? What's his name then?” Arlo barked, squinted at you, his brows furrowing in suspicion. 

“Terrence, I think, He’s got this whole mysterious vibe going on. keep it cool, okay? I’ll handle it.” you replied, gripping the rifle tightly, your heart racing.

Arlo rolled his eyes, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. “You know how I feel about these corporations trying to buy more of my money when I updated everythin’ We’ve built this life here, babe. I'm the husband, I’ll handle it,” He shot back, crossing his arms.

You stepped closer to him, the warmth of his body grounding you and rubbed his shoulder. “I know, I know. But we can’t just ignore him. If he’s here, it’s for a reason.”

Arlo sighed, clearly still annoyed but resigned. “Fine, let’s just see what he wants. And give me that gun please,” he said gently, you passed it to him.

Arlo was given this flourishing high-tech home from his grandparents through inheritance, the house adorned with the latest technological advancements, and sleek light green furniture that blended minimalist aesthetics with comfort.

The walls were a crisp white, reflecting the soft glow of the advanced smart lighting that adjusted to your mood. There were pictures of animated art, abstract and vibrant, that hinted at your creativity and love for color, scattered thoughtfully throughout the living space.

The kitchen, where you spent most of your time, was outfitted with glossy black counters and stainless steel appliances that seemed to hum with energy.

You had a deep love for cooking, and the aroma of spices often lingered in the air, a testament to the meals you prepared for Arlo, even if he hardly appreciated them.

The décor spoke of old-world charm fused with modern aesthetics—a plush, deep green couch dominated the spacious living room, framed by small windows covered by velvet sage green curtains that overlooked the overgrown garden, the moon casting silver light over the wildflowers. The television hung on the right side of the wall, facing the couch.

You could hear the distant hum of the self-driving car parked outside, a reminder of the future you both lived in, yet felt so distant from. It turned off immediately.

You both valued a futuristic lifestyle, but it turned dull and ordinary while you worked as a librarian's assistant.

The library had always been your refuge since childhood, where you, the nerdy black girl, found joy in books, technology, the arts. It was in the canned goods aisle that you captured your husband’s attention through a chat about books and what to find the best spices, you liked to cook food.

There were self-driving cars available, and clearly, your husband purchased one to stay updated with the latest technology.

As you and Arlo approached the front door, the tension in the air was palpable. Your heart pounded, a mix of excitement and unease fluttering in your chest. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself before Arlo opened the door.

There stood Terrence, a man who seemed to command the space around him. At 6’3”, his presence filled the doorway, and the white moonlight highlighted the sharp angles of his jaw and the confident glint in his eyes.

Terrence undoubtedly caught your attention, but as a married woman, you knew your husband often grew suspicious whenever another man approached you.

He could be both protective and jealous at times. Arlo was 6'0", which you found appealing, particularly since you had a preference for tall black men.

He was dressed in a collared half buttoned white shirt with a black jacket that accentuated his broad shoulders, he carried an air of authority that made it hard to look away. His black hair styled in tiny curles.

His green eyes seemed like they were pierced through your soul, reading your deepest secrets and fears in one stare. His muscles bunched through his clothes, and you could tell that he was committed to the gym. Damn.

“Good evening, I hope I’m not disturbing you.” he greeted smoothly, his voice deep and inviting, with a hint of curiosity, there was a British accent included.

Arlo’s face shifted instantly, suspicion etching deeper lines on his forehead. “You are, What do you want?” he asked brusquely, crossing his arms defensively.

“I’m here on behalf of the off-Earth habitation company. I wanted to discuss the proposal we sent your way, Arlo Stark and Y/N Stark right?” Terrence replied, his gaze flickering to you, and for a brief moment, you felt an electric charge pass between you.

“You know our names already? Even my wife’s name? Terrence right?” Arlo asked in suspension, placing the rifle at the corner of the room. His deep brown eyes reflected with anger flickered between you and Terrence for the umpteenth time.

You sighed annoyingly, it felt like a farrago of unwanted stuff piled up in your basement. “Yes, he does Arlo, this is 2063, you know technology has everything now,” you chimed in.

You stepped forward, trying to diffuse the tension. “We were just surprised to get a visit at this hour. Come in, let’s talk,” you offered, hoping to ease Arlo’s protective stance.

As Terrence entered, you caught a whiff of his cologne—rich and earthy, it lingered in the air like a promise. He glanced around your home, his eyes taking in the details—the art on the walls, the cozy ambiance.

“You have a lovely home,” he remarked, his tone genuine, and you felt your cheeks warm under his gaze.

“Thanks, We’ve put a lot of love into it.” you replied, flustered while rubbing the back of your neck.

Arlo cleared his throat, pulling you back into the moment. “Let’s get to the point. We’re not interested in moving to space, You’ve met my wife before?” he declared, his voice firm.

You could sense the tension; it was like a taut string ready to snap.

Closing the behind him with the three of you walking into the spacious living room and seated yourself on the couch, while Arlo stood beside you, Terrence seated himself on the armchair with a device in his hand.

You flipped the light switch and light of the warm yellow bulbs filled the room with a cozy light, contrasting sharply with the cool moonlight outside.

“Actually, I haven’t had the pleasure, but I’ve heard quite a bit about you, Y/N.” Terrence replied, his gaze lingering on you just a moment too long, igniting a flicker of something in the pit of your stomach.

You shifted slightly, suddenly feeling exposed under his intense scrutiny. “All good things, I hope,” you said, trying to inject some playful banter into the thick air.

“Very much so, Your reputation precedes you,” he replied with reassurance, his voice smooth, drawing your eyes to the way his lips curled into a smirk.

Arlo shifted beside you, the tension radiating off him like heat from a flame. “Let’s focus on why you’re here, we’re not looking to relocate, especially not to some off-Earth colony. We’re happy here.” he interjected, his tone clipped.

Terrence’s demeanor didn’t waver; he remained calm, unbothered. “I understand your hesitance, but I assure you, it’s not as daunting as it seems. This could be an opportunity for you both—”

“An opportunity to leave everything behind? To abandon our lives? I'm the wealthiest CEO in this gotdamn neighborhood, I don't need this,” Arlo countered, his voice rising, fists clenching at his sides.

“This is only a suggestion if you want to live in space, Arlo maybe you would have to prepare to leave your wife alone in this house?” Terrence asked in a firm tone, holding up a device that showed a person walking through a spaceship.

Arlo’s jaw tightened, but you could see the gears shifting in his mind. “Nope, not interested. I've already gotten the update on the self-driving car, the robots aren't in my damn house, and I've updated everything to keep up,” he said in an angry tone, his hand on his hip.

With that, his eyes landed on you, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body. He lowered his voice, “What about you? Are you truly happy?”

Your heart raced as you met his gaze, feeling a magnetic pull towards him. “I…I’m trying to be, I've haven't been happy that much,” you confessed, glancing at Arlo who was still stewing in frustration.

“Sometimes we have to step outside our comfort zone, even for a moment,” Terrence said, an invitation hanging in the air like a promise.

You kept your cool knowing that your husband was watching but you replied, “Who truly knows? I've been happy cooking lately,”

“Thank you for pitching this idea to us, Terrence, we'll see you later okay? Again, not interested in space, we’re more comfortable on Earth,” Arlo brought up.

Arlo walked with Terrence outside toward the self driving car, watching him get in, Arlo crossed his arms with his face still twisted in pure turmoil.

Your husband walked in with relieved face, shaking his head from side to side in disapproval while Terrence gave him a reassuring smile, Arlo’s eyes flickered toward you, but he said with anger.

“Let’s go to sleep, if he comes back then don’t let him in,”

————

You knew that your husband left for work at 5:00 at night, giving you peace and quiet throughout the day, he worked all night and all day at the his business, you needed days to yourself.

The next morning you woke up to the sun’s salutations, birds chirping and the walls that use be a crisp white, reflecting the soft glow of the advanced smart lighting that adjusted to your mood, suddenly changed to yellow for happiness.

You prepared breakfast for yourself, as the open-concept kitchen glowed with a soft blue light from the smart appliances, casting a serene ambiance that contrasted the warm weather brewing outside.

You glanced at the clock, knowing Arlo would be late again, swallowed by his ambition. Thankfully you didn’t have work today which meant you had a day off, You felt a rush of confidence, your curves fitting perfectly in the form-fitting dress that accentuated your dark brown skin and your curly pixiecut framed your face.

You heard a woman's computerized voice on the small holographic screen resting on the dresser, “You have a visitor at 9:00am, Terrence,”

You hurried your way toward front door, your heart raced, anticipation and nervousness bubbling within you. The memory of Terrence's intense gaze from the night before flooded your thoughts. You took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Terrence greeted, his voice smooth as silk, and a charming smile played on his lips. The morning sun highlighted the sharp features of his face, giving him an almost ethereal quality.

“Terrence! What are you doing here?” you asked, feigning surprise, though deep down, you were thrilled to see him again.

“I figured I’d drop by to discuss the proposal further. I know Arlo isn’t here, and I thought it might be a good opportunity for us to chat—just the two of us,” he said, his green eyes sparkling with mischief.

You hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the kitchen where the aroma of freshly cooked breakfast wafted through the air. “Uh, sure, come in,” you finally said, stepping aside to let him enter.

As he stepped into your home, you felt a surge of electricity in the air between you. He looked around appreciatively, his gaze lingering on the decor. “How are you?” he repeated, taking in the cozy ambiance that you had cultivated with care.

“I’m pretty good, I’ve been cooking and had a day off today,” you replied, a smile creeping onto your face.

Terrence stayed behind you, his presence overwhelming yet oddly comforting. “It definitely feels like a home, not just a house. It’s different from the sterile environments of the corporate world.”

You nodded, feeling a strange kinship with him. “I think it’s important to have a space that reflects who you are, especially in a world that’s constantly changing.”

He leaned against the kitchen counter, looking at you with an intensity that made your heart race. “And who are you, Y/N? What do you want?”

You chuckled lightly, feeling a thrill through your breast. “I don’t plan to moving to space, anytime soon so that’s just not talk about that,”

“Would you like something to eat or drink Terrence?” You asked him, your gaze never left his.

Terrence nodded with a smile, “I’d love some coffee, if you have it,” he replied, his gaze never leaving yours as you moved toward the coffee maker.

The soft hum of the machine filled the air, blending with the chirping birds outside and the faint scent of breakfast still lingering in the kitchen.

As you poured the steaming liquid into a mug, you felt the tension from the previous night start to dissipate, replaced by a different kind of electricity.

“So, how did you end up in this line of work? The whole off-Earth thing seems…ambitious,” you asked, trying to keep the conversation flowing, your heart racing with each passing second.

Terrence leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, and a smirk played on his lips. “I’ve always believed in pushing boundaries. Earth is beautiful, but I want to be part of something bigger. The universe is vast, and there’s so much more out there.”

You chuckled softly, handing him the mug. “That’s a bold statement. But what about the people you leave behind? It feels like a big gamble.”

He took a sip, his eyes closing momentarily as he savored the rich flavor. “That’s true. But sometimes, you have to take risks to find what you truly want. Just like you seem to be doing right now,” he said, his gaze piercing through you.

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words. “What do you mean by that?” you asked, feigning innocence, though you knew exactly what he was getting at.

Terrence stepped closer, the space between you shrinking as he leaned against the counter, his voice dropping to a low, sultry tone. “I see the way you move in your own space, how you take care of everything around you. You’re not just a wife; you’re a force. And I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to truly know you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, the weight of his words settling in your chest. “Terrence, I—”

He interrupted you, his eyes fierce and playful at the same time. “Let me finish. I know Arlo can be… preoccupied, and sometimes it feels like you’re just existing, rather than living. But what if you allowed yourself to explore what makes you feel alive?”

The air grew heavy with unspoken tension, his words wrapping around you like a warm blanket. “What are you suggesting?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, daring yourself to lean closer.

Terrence’s words trailing off, sending shivers down your spine. “I’m suggesting that sometimes, we have to break the rules to find our happiness. What if I could show you a world outside of what you know? Just for a moment?”

Your heart raced, the invitation hanging in the air like a forbidden fruit. “And what would that entail?” you asked, the thrill of the unknown swirling within you.

“Talk to me, what do you really want?” he asked, his voice smooth and alluring.

You felt a rush of excitement and fear. You glanced toward the window, where the sun bathed the room in golden light, reminding you of the life you had built with Arlo.

But a part of you craved adventure, the thrill of stepping outside the lines. “Alright,” you breathed, heart pounding. “Let’s see where this day takes us.”

Terrence’s smile widened, a mix of triumph and desire. “You won’t regret it,” he promised, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Honestly, you were right about some things ya know? When I was younger I wanted to be a cook, have a my own restaurant. Arlo just had to just say that only some businesses fail or succeed,” You admitted with a shoulder shrug.

Terrence agreed with you, ���I'm sure you would be very successful with the restaurant, you're an amazing cook. And you can follow those dreams,” He spoke up with reassurance.

You and Terrence talked all day, ate your cooked food while he appreciated everything, something Arlo didn’t do, you got to know the man better than your own husband.

"I always had this plan of running away from this boring life and find out what is out there for me, but I want intimacy from him,” You confessed to him, your eyes on him.

Before you could utter another the smart clock in the house said, “Arlo Stark is on his way home, in 15 minutes,” the AI voice spoke in a woman’s voice, making you flinch for a bit.

Terrence and you stood up from the table, you sighed lowly at the announcement, “I'm sorry for taking much of your time, you better go before my husband sees you. T, you know how he gets,”

Terrence shook your hand gently, and nodded in agreement, “I understand, but the advanced technology with the house, i'm sure that he already knows we're talking,”

You laughed softly and shrugged, then made your way to the front door and opened it. Terrence stepped outside and said goodbye, while Arlo observed from afar before arriving in the driveway in his autonomous vehicle, squinting and gripping the armrest of the comfortable seat.

"I fucking knew it," Arlo grumbled, his eyes flickered toward him and the house, pulled on the door handle, stepped out with ease.

——————

In the following weeks, while you spent time at the library conversing with Terrence instead of being at home, Arlo confronted you about your relationship with him.

He baselessly accused you of infidelity, stealing his money, and abandoning him for Terrence.

It was absurd. Although Terrence was initially a stranger, your thoughts increasingly turned to him, and he was evolving into a potential friend or casual fuck buddy in this context.

Terrence returned to your place late at night once more while you were home alone, unaware that he was also constantly thinking about you. The feelings were reciprocated; what are your next steps?

He sat across from you in the plaid sage green armchair, you sat on the couch prettily with a pink nightgown, only thick socks on since it was very cold in the house floors, regardless of what your husband said to you, you had to follow your desires and Terrence was the answer.

Now Terrence wore a dark gray tee shirt with a matching jacket, sweatpants due to the cold weather outside, your eyes never left his. Your finger brushed a curl over your ear, “Thank you for coming tonight, Terrence, Arlo is still at work, preoccupied with that.”

“Terrence, you’ve been keeping me much company while my husband is away, you know that don’t you?” You asked in innocent like tone, your thumb swiped across his cheek.

Terrence groaned lowly at your words, knowing you were right. Since that night you first met, he wanted you, and you felt the same once you saw him. He had his own fantasies, including the thought of you slowly riding him in various positions, whether in the living room, the self-driving car, or the bedroom.

"Yes, I do. I've wanted to treat you better than Arlo, but you're a married woman and if I—” Terrence spoke up until you interjected.

You shook your head at him in disagreement, silencing his fears and yours as well. “There wasn't nothing between Arlo and I except a loveless marriage, and money, he didn't give me what I wanted, he didn't support my dreams,”

He stood up from the armchair, circled around the table and stood in front of you, your hands gently cupping his attractive face, freshly trimmed bread with his mustache connecting. Pulling him down between your legs, you spread them open for Terrence.

“May I?” Terrence asked you gently, looking up at you with those eyes of his. Kissing your lips passionately, you kissed him back with fervor before pulling away.

“Yes, please, hurry..” You begged him, your hands resting on the armrest of the couch. The walls of the smart house changed to red for lust, matching the mood of both of you.

Terrence carefully raised your nightgown from your voluptuous figure and removed his t-shirt, revealing his toned physique. He admired your gorgeous dark brown skin and your lovely brown pussy that pulsed enticingly for him.

“Such a beautiful pussy,” he moaned, he shoved his thick, long fingers between your folds, and you moaned so slut like, his large hand smacked your ass roughly without mercy.

"Ow, fuckkk!" You cried out, riding out his fingers desperately, your pussy sucked his fingers back in.

“Look at you, swallowing my fingers with that pussy like a good slut,” Terrence groaned with a subtle rasp, thrusting his fingers in and out of you.

With your consent, he tied your wrists together carefully and with skill, you hitched a bit from the rope. He continued to push his fingers into you, leaving you breathless and trembling. He took some pink furry handcuffs from the dresser, giving you a sly smile, and you agreed with a nod. "Can I?"

"Yes you can,"

His hand rested on the small of your stomach, pushing you down on the soft mattress and smacking your ass roughly again, he grabbed his thick dick and pushed himself inside from the back, “OH FUCK! Terrence!” you cried out with desperate moans, rolling your hips.

“Fuck me, baby.”

With your consent, Terrence sensually glided his dick between your wet folds, you savored every inch as he groaned from the tightness of your slick walls. “Fuck, Terry.” she breathed, your eyes darken with lust.

He firmly grasped your waist, propelling his hips forward. "Open your eyes," he grunted, his brows furrowing in unwavering focus. Slowly, your eyelids fluttered open, locking their gazes passionately. 

Bliss surged through him as the tip of his dick tenderly kissed her cervix, eliciting a hushed groan.

"That's it, let me admire that beautiful face," he praised, causing you to surrender, your head falling back onto the plush pillow. Each thrust stole your breath away, leaving your yearning for more.

His hands cupped your breasts and rolled his fingers around your erect nipples with slow circles. Each tug and pinch from between his fingers made your whine in pure bliss.

“Oh shit—right there!” You chanted in pleasure, your voice increased in pitch. Your legs tightly wrapped around his waist, you sought to feel him deeper, enveloping his dick with your walls.

The intense sensation caused your essence to flow and perfectly coat him, resulting in euphoric screams of pleasure. As he trailed a path of kisses and hickies along your collarbone, the passion between them intensified.

It was if Terrence still knew which spots to get to whenever he was in the moment with you, “Right here baby?” he whispered in your ear, his teeth biting down on your earlobe. 

“Ever since I saw move in with your husband and we locked eyed, I knew that I wanted you, wanted to know every part of you. It was the right time to come back to you.” 

Terry's speed increased as he thrusts passionately and roughly, accompanied by the sound of their skin colliding echoing through the bedroom and the creaking of the bed beneath them.

“Don't you know how much I wanted you baby?” he grunted lowly, pecking her cheek. Her nails left welts on his shoulder blades as his fingers roughly pinched her clitoris. You ecstatically cried out as he penetrated her deeper, while he gently sucked on her nipple and flicked it with his tongue, causing it to harden.

“Yes!–I-i wanted you too—fuck!” You panted, made eye contact with Terrence once more, causing her eyes to roll back and she was certain that her soul had left her body and returned to her. An overwhelming sensation of pleasure washed over her repeatedly.

You experienced an intense orgasm that overwhelmed your like a powerful wave, causing your body and legs to shake uncontrollably around his waist. "i-i'm cumming-fuck!" you keened, holding his face tenderly in your hands and pulled him closer, engaging in a passionate kiss.

You fervently kissed him, muffling her moans in the process, "Let it out, baby.." he praised, while her stomach tied up in knots as Terrence continued thrusting a few more times. 

Her essence gushed around Terrence's dick, evoking an appreciative moan from him as he gently pulled out from you. "That's my girl," he softly uttered. he praised, pecked your lips twice.

Your bare figure trembled beneath him after the powerful climax, making you breathing unsteady. Terrencr positioned himself above you and then shifted beside You, both of them breathing heavily and sharing a light laughter.

“You good baby?” he asked in concern. His forehead rested against yours. 

“Yeah, I-I’m good..” You muttered softly, their skin sparkled with sweat. They turned their heads towards each other, exchanging a smile.

After that, he carried you into the bathroom, he ran you a hot bath and quickly cleaned up the mess, you washed up once Terrence gets dressed quickly, he kissed your lips tenderly. "I'll see you tommorw?"

"Yes, you will,"

The both of you were secreting longing, pining for each other, you heard him left the house and grabbed the furry handcuffs, closing the door while you were left with pleasure, a plan roamed your mind but you finished cleaning up. You were still gonna see the man without shame.

—————

[kaislvves]

IN WHICH; you and kaiser get into an argument over a stupid reason which leads into a hard launch after his match.

a/n: do NAWT speak to me about how unrealistic the last scenes are. i KNOWW how crazy fans can be and they’d probably be mauling/trampling you guys to death😭 also say no to telling me to put my ear to your mouth and listen what you have to say (kaz ref…) only to tell me this is ooc leave me alone pls. & not proofread lolz

cw: swearing, arguments -> making up, my writing

“i could stay for tonight.”

it was sickening coming from your tongue because kaiser knew he didn’t want you only for tonight. he’s coming close to crushing you with how hard he’s squeezing your body like he never wants you to leave.

“just for tonight?” is a question he poses. the air around you two remains silent and it angers him—are you thinking about an answer? for there is no other answer than accepting defeat and staying in his arms, forever.

you try squirming around to wiggle your way out of his hold because it was getting warmer than you’d like it to be. “yes, micha. just for tonight.” you start whining at this point but he does not budge no matter how hard you try. he’s only growing more irritated by your response paired up with the nickname you call him to be affectionate.

affectionate his ass—you’re basically admitting you hate him. as much as he loves being seen as an enemy in others’ eyes, he hates when you perceive him in such a manner. “don’t call me micha.” his huffing out and you can feel the vibrations in his chest

“okay mr. football prodigy.” your tease is muffled by his chest. in most situations, he’d take it as a compliment to feed his ego but he knows you’re deliberately trying to egg him on. and though he currently can’t see your face because of the position you guys are in, he swears he can feel your eyes rolling at him.

“i still have a life… and a job.” now it’s your turn to get fed up by his behavior. “am i not your life?” he’s sounding like you genuinely just offended his whole bloodline and hell, maybe even very distant ancestors. you want to say he’s joking but judging by experience, he most certainly isn’t.

one thing you understood when you first started dating him was that he would not give up his career for you and using the same logic, you didn’t have to either. now can some mind reader tell you why this is happening? why is he being so stubborn about this in particular? not like kaiser isn’t dramatic or stubborn most of the time but he’s never been this stubborn over a matter like this.

“michael that’s not… i just—i can’t just give everything up for you.” oh, now you’re calling him by his full first name? perhaps that wasn’t the best way to word it because you feel grip shifting to the back of your head to keep it in place, he does this because he doesn’t want you seeing his face. “why not?” he barks a lot quieter than he normally does.

“what do you mean by ‘why not’? this has been my life, even before i met you.” you try holding in the scoff that you were trying so hard to avoid but it’s obvious now.

as if it wasn’t already tense but it feels like it bloomed into a raging silence. you believe he’s thinking of an answer but in reality, he isn’t. he’s thinking about anything else other than him opening his mouth because only the heavens know what words would spew out of his mouth if he were to—imagine how worse he’d make this petty argument.

you hate this.

you hate silence.

you hate him being silent.

and you make the dumb decision to add salt to the injury—the one thing kaiser didn’t want to do. “do you actually want to argue about this? if so, i’m not staying at all.” there you go, saying things you don’t actually mean. “do you mean that?” oh he actually responded. you did try to choose your words carefully but your mouth moves faster than your thoughts.

“and if i did?” you’re lying through your teeth, but he takes the bait.

that was what unlocked his vile mouth that should be censored on television after losing a match. “you really are annoying, you know that? i hope you didn’t because i didn’t know that either when i started liking you. or were you just leading me on? i don’t care if you aren’t staying anymore. just fucking leave.” he’s lacing his words with cyanide.

he’s second guessing his thoughts of wanting you to stay forever if you were just going to be acting like that. his grip on you is finally loosening and it’s easier to slide right past his arms. you take the chance and peak at his face. it wasn’t the look you want to see on him normally but it is justified in this situation. he has a scowl on his face but he still looks so pretty like this. he’s looking at you too, albeit not with the admiration you’re doing.

it isn’t the best idea to stay silent and so you don’t.

“fine then.” you say while walking away from him to head towards the entrance and like expected, he doesn’t follow you. you take the bag from the front-door rack and slip on the shoes he gifted you.

you spare no time opening the door, not even glancing back when you shut the door as well. kaiser is the one looking, glaring at the back of your head before you disappear behind his door. after he knows you’re off completely, he goes over to lock it shut but also ends up smelling the slight scent of your perfume floating in the air.

looks like you won’t be staying tonight anymore. and now that this happened, will you ever? did he want you to?

this argument could have been so minor if both of you had just sucked it up.

were you still together? it didn’t end in clear closure, just him telling you to leave and you did.

did you still want this? did he still want this?

in all honesty, he just wants you. no matter what form, no matter what, he still wants to say he knows you. it didn’t have to be this way.

safe to say neither of you had good sleep that night.

kaiser has many ways to express his aggression. be it words, physical contact (past), or what he’s doing right now—football. he hasn’t contacted you ever since that day and you haven’t either. makes him question what he still is to you.

why does he care? if you don’t want to talk to him, neither do you. if you hate him, he hates you.

however, whenever he does take his anger out of the field, he dominates it. effectively becoming the king of the field. from the get-go it was obvious bastard munchen would win the match against some other team they were playing against.

you could tell too, setting aside the fact you were sitting pretty far from the game. what made you want to watch the match even if you thought he was probably your ex already? you didn’t know. it’s like you just gravitate towards the stupid rat tails man, he’s an annoying magnet to you now.

and like everyone betted on, bastard munchen did win.

the team immediately celebrates by huddling together, slapping each-others hands, carrying each-other, and what not? you unconsciously smile at the scene, it was small, you could still feel it but you couldn’t help it.

kaiser is celebrating with his team, being somehow lifted on-top of ness’ shoulders (which he is really annoyed at and he’s wondering how the fuck he’s doing that, what is wrong with him?). he ultimately scored the last goal they needed to win. it wasn’t a surprise because when he plays, he wants to—needs to—win.

despite that, his teammates couldn’t help but realize his anger, leading to yoichi asking him a question that makes kaiser want to choke the black-haired man on the spot.

“the hell was that?” he asks (referring the stupidly impossible goal kaiser was able to score, but you know… he doesn’t believe anything is impossible.) “i have a question for you too, yoichi. what the hell is that kind of question?” he’s laughing out, still on ness’ shoulders. but he’s laughing so hard his whole body starts to shake, making ness stumble a little.

still, yoichi was able to tell something was off.

“uh… what’s gotten your panties in a twist?”

but before kaiser could answer that with going off on him, he’s being pulled into an interview.

what made that goal possible?

“it was never impossible.”

what do you feel after winning?

“as if we weren’t going to win.”

boring questions he didn’t want to answer but he was obligated to—for he was basically the star of the show, like always. that was until a certain question was asked that made him look around the stadium for the first time.

that was quite an impressive goal.

“of course.”

is there anyone you wanted to watch that shot?

he’s silent. he’s thinking of you as he gazes around the bleachers—embarrassingly thinking everyone has your face and accidentally making eye contact with crazy fans that go berserk when he does. the only reason he never looked before and during the match was because you wouldn’t be there.

what a desperate reason, right? row after row, he’s scanning every seat, even the ones that are empty and imagining you’re the one sitting in it. 3rd to the top row, he scanning and not expecting to see you.

the fuck? is that you?

is he looking at you? kaiser is looking in your direction and in the area you’re seated but you’re so high up you can’t tell and it’s very unlikely he is but he keeps staring. you’re awkwardly looking away and around your section to hide your face.

oh but he’s already gotten a look of the face he so desperately wanted to see and he’s not going to look away, nor will he stand in one place. like a lunatic who just escaped some mental hospital, he’s booking it from the interviewer who stands shocked.

oh ok... he totally saw you which defeats the total point of you sitting so far away, was he lying to you when he said his eyesight wasn’t the best? probably. anyway, that was your sign to also walk away.

screams of fans were deafening and you felt like your eardrums were going to burst anyway.

who cursed you? because it was such a coincidence that kaiser comes out the way you were going to exit. he didn’t count how many fans who were asking all sorts of things he ran past to get to you.

as soon as you saw his face, you tried playing it off cool and spun the other way to walk away but he was by no means dumb and he saw you do that. he clicked his tongue in annoyance.

it felt like when you ask your friends to chase you and they actually do and now you’re screaming your lungs out trying to outrun them. obviously it was futile because he was so much faster than you.

no words could explain how fucking loud the crowd was, first when he ran, second when he entered the spectator area, last (hopefully) when he hugged you tightly from behind, stopping you from running.

like that night, he was warmer than you’d like him to be. arms wrapped around your waist and his chin on your shoulder. “are you running away again?” he’s whispering into your ear and despite the crowd + the booming voices around you… ++ the paparazzi basically stomping on people to get a photo, he’s unbelievably close to your ear, you have no trouble in hearing him.

“kaiser.” you breathe out in the same shock the interviewer was probably in. “don’t call me that. answer my question.” he huffs—he hasn’t heard you call him that in for like… forever! (unless you count other arguments)

“should i want to run away?”

“i don’t want you to.”

the grip is getting tighter and it slightly stops you from breathing for a second. you don’t want to run away, you don’t hate him.

you were thinking the same as him, whether or whether not he still considered you his. but you know his ego is way too high for his own good so you do him a favor and ask him instead.

“are we still something?” you ask and it hurts him that you do—did you not think that anymore? his eye is twitching with uncertain emotions. “…tell me your answer first.” there’s hurt evident in his voice because he doesn’t want to jump into conclusions and hurt his ego even more than he already has fighting for his way to get to you.

“i don’t know, are we?” he’d flick your forehead with full power if he wasn’t trying to make up with you. it’s barely audible but you hear “i still want this.” a frown is on your face and he took it as a bad sign.

“i do too, micha.” you admit, he’s spiraling by how you say his name.

as much as he wants to say that he did want you to stay with him forever, that he didn’t want you to leave him, that he doesn’t actually find you annoying, that he loves you. he decides on doing only the second and last option because he’s kept himself, you, and the fans waiting far too long.

(you also wanted to say you didn’t mean it.)

he’s spinning you around to face him.

“don’t leave me, ever.”

he holds your hands in his, leaning forward to kiss you.

and though you guys still have so much to apologize, discuss, and everything in between… you both would rather leave that for a private matter. just stay in this moment, in his arms for now? if not forever.

oh and now you hoped this was the last time the crowd got as rowdy as it was.

GERMAN FOOTBALL PRODIGY; MICHAEL KAISER AND HIS SUPPOSED PARTNER MAKE IT PUBLIC! WHO IS THE LUCKY PERSON? EVERYTHING WE KNOW RIGHT NOW…

locknessmonster : bro wtf

[gor3-hound]

KISS AND MAKE UP — NAOYA + TOJI

a/n: another commission for my faveeee @nexysworld. MWAH. just a heads up, naoya is referred to as reader n toji’s cousin just cause second cousin sounded weird in writing idk.

cw: 18+ content. daddy-daughter incest (toji), cousin incest (toji/naoya-ish. naoya/reader). threats + slapping (directed at naoya). misogyny. kinda maybe brief dub-con. p in v. oral (f + m receiving). fem!reader. slapping. hair pulling. creampie.

2.8k words

Your dad has been gone for the better part of a week when he decides to wander into the house one morning — surprisingly early giving his typical track record of showing up well past midnight. You’re nursing a cup of coffee, nodding in greeting as his gaze lands on you.

“My cousin is coming over later.” Toji huffs as soon as he steps into the kitchen, lazily leaning against the doorway. Irritation is written all over his features. “Play nice, y'hear? I don't need gramps bitchin’ at me. Y'know what Naoya is like with his daddy.”

Naoya. The mention of his name alone is enough to have you scowling, your expression twisting in a similar manner to Toji’s. That only seems to annoy your father further, an exasperated sigh spilling past his lips. “N’ don’t give me that look, kid. Or him, for that matter. I ain’t dealin’ with another one of his rants about how I raised my daughter with a shitty attitude.”

“He thinks any woman who breathes too loud isn’t raised right.” You counter, huffing as you set your coffee down on your counter.

“Ain’t my problem,” your dad replies easily, shrugging his shoulders. “You only have to see him once or twice a year. Suck it up.”

“How long is he even staying?”

Toji is an asshole, but he isn’t evil. He feels a little bad, considering how much you and your cousin tend to butt heads. His lips thin at your question, pressing together as he walks over to ruffle your hair and pull you against his side. “Couple ‘a days. Sorry, kid.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Naoya’s gotten at least a hundred times worse since you last saw him. It’d been a year or so since you were forced to be in his presence for more than an hour at a time, and now that he’s hit his twenties and has been getting more duties in the clan, he seems to think he’s God’s greatest gift. He’s not even a full-year older than you, and yet he loves giving you the whole ‘respect your elders, girl’ spiel everytime you so much as frown in his presence.

He’s been here for a day, and you’re already counting down the minutes until he leaves. Your dad said an important job came up — an excuse to escape Naoya, you’re certain — so you don’t even have him to try and attempt to get Naoya to ease up.

You might genuinely go insane before your dad decides to show up again. If you hear him say that you ‘missed a spot’ while making you clean up his mess one more goddamn time, you’re going to end up in a cell.

“If I’m going to cook for you,” you say in a low tone, swallowing thickly to attempt not to snap. If only to save the lecture you’d inevitably get from Naoya, then your father, and then the head of the clan when Naoya eventually went whining to his dad. “You can at least take the plate to the kitchen after.” “And why should I?” He scoffs, that insufferable grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he regards you with an icy stare. “You’re here. Isn’t this kind of thing the purpose of your… species?”

The muscle of your jaw ticks at his words. You can’t even muster up the strength to force a polite smile on your face, your hands clenching and unclenching at your sides. Better to act like a proper lady than retaliate and have him being even more insufferable than usual. Your silence almost seems to piss him off more — you’re starting to think he gets a rise out of seeing you act out.

“You know, the women of this family are disgraceful.” He continues. “Not one of you was raised with proper manners. My father is too soft on all of you. When I am head of this clan, I plan to—”

“Please. Your own dad thinks you’re an asshole. He’s just waiting for an excuse to pass it onto someone else. I wouldn’t get your hopes up.” You bite out, unable to hold your tongue any longer.

Silence fills the room for a few tense seconds. Naoya just… blinks at you, shock written over his features. Shock quickly turns to disbelief, as if the thought of you talking back to him was completely out of his realm of possibility. “Pathetic. You can’t even hear simple facts without growing emotional. The audacity you have to speak to me in such a way is…”

He trails off, lips curling into a sneer as he looks at you. “You should consider yourself lucky I even allow you to speak in my presence, you insolent little—”

“One more fuckin’ word.” The cold voice that cuts through Naoya’s words aren’t your own, but it is a voice you immediately recognise. Your head turns to face your father, the man standing in the doorway with a stony expression.

“I’ve done nothing wrong.” Naoya replies, though you don’t miss the slight waver in his voice.”I was simply correcting the behaviour you refuse to address. My father wouldn’t stand for this treatment of the heir of the—”

“Apologise to my fuckin’ daughter, or I’ll send you back to your daddy in a body bag, kid.” The words aren’t an empty threat — something you and Naoya seem to realise at the exact same time. You watch closely as your cousin swallows his pride, gaze falling to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, words barely audible. It’s a pathetic attempt, really. One your own father isn’t nearly satisfied with.

“Oh, now you wanna keep quiet, huh? Known you since you were a fuckin’ infant, and I’ve never known you to to know when to shut the fuck up. Say sorry properly.” Toji snaps. Naoya opens his mouth to give another half-hearted apology, but Toji is faster as he speaks up again. “Better be a good one.”

Your dad pauses briefly to think, then he’s stepping closer. “Y’know what? I think you should show you’re really sincere. Get on your knees, and say sorry to my kid.”

Naoya does an exceptionally good impression of a fish — mouth opening and closing multiple times as he stares blankly up at Toji. “You… You can’t be serious.”

“Don’t fuckin’ try me today. I’ve had shitty luck with the races, and I’d love to blow off some steam. I’m sick of you and that old man treatin’ us like shit.”

Naoya swallows hard, slowly rising from your battered sofa. He shifts slightly towards you, refusing to meet your gaze as he sinks down to his knees on the floor. “I apologise.”

“Better,” Toji hums, moving to stand behind you, guiding you to the spot Naoya was just sitting. He’s practically kneeling at your feet now, expression indecipherable. “Sit down, baby. Let’s get him to make it up to you, yeah?”

The tone of voice makes you shiver, eyes flicking up to your dad’s face. Between his soft coo and the way he’s looking at you, you feel your cheeks heat. It’s a familiar expression, but never one you’ve received when in the company of others. “Spread your legs for me, good girl.”

Naoya’s head snaps up then, eyes wide as he looks at Toji. You’re unable to school your own expression as you gaze down at Naoya, taking in the way he’s acting. You can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment, finally having him knocked down a few pegs. You swallow the lump forming in your throat, your heart fluttering nervously as you follow your dad’s command. 

“Show her how sorry you really are, hmm?” Toji purrs, all low as he takes a handful of Naoya’s dyed hair, forcing his face against your clothed cunt. He stiffens, but then he’s quickly melting against you, nuzzling closer to your heat. 

“Not so talkative now.” Toji scoffs, squatting down as he uses his grip as leverage to make Naoya rub against you more. The action draws a soft whine from the back of your throat, your head falling back against the sofa. “Got you actin’ like a well-trained dog, just from the scent of some pussy? You really have that much trouble gettin’ girls in bed, huh?”

Naoya bristles at his words, but he’s visibly more docile than usual as he allows Toji to guide him against you. You’re getting impatient yourself now, squirming against the cushions. 

“You want a taste, cousin?” And Naoya nods within seconds, eagerly opening his mouth and exhaling harshly. The hot air fans against the damp fabric of your panties in a way that instantly has heat shooting to your core. “Always bein’ a fuckin’ brat, think you even deserve it?”

Toji pulls Naoya back, and you find satisfaction in the pathetic little whine he lets out, even if you find yourself immediately missing his presence between your legs. 

“Daddy, please.” You breathe, voice a mix of needy and pleading. You instantly see the way he softens — something you only ever really get the luxury of seeing — before he lets go of Naoya’s hair. 

“Go on, then.” Toji murmurs, and Naoya doesn’t even blink before his fingers are desperately grasping at your skirt, bunching up the fabric at your waist and tugging your panties to the side before he dives in. 

A low, breathless ‘fuck’ spills past his lips as his tongue licks a long, wet stripe along your dripping cunt, collecting the wetness that had gathered there. He groans against you, nose nudging at your clit as he tongue-fucks you in earnest. His lashes flutter as he gazes up at you, the taste of you making him feel a little light-headed. 

You’ve never seen him so invested in anything. He has a lazy sort of arrogance that follows his every action, but he looks like nothing more than an over-excited puppy as he laps at you with an almost feverish intensity. His eyes are heavy lidded, fingers gripping onto your legs with a harshness that makes you think you’ll be left with bruises as a reminder of what happened. 

“Make her cum, and I might even let you have a treat,” Toji teases. Your peak is rapidly approaching by the time his voice takes your attention away from Naoya. You’d almost forgotten your dad was only feet away, watching the both of you closely. He’s clearly enjoying this — if the tent stretching his pants obscenely was anything to go by. 

Naoya is only spurred on by his words, dragging his mouth upwards until his lips suction around your clit. He sucks eagerly, tongue flicking against the swollen bud until you’re writhing and crying out beneath him. The way Toji sees it, the two of you have never gotten on so well. 

“Nao, please… need… just a little more.” You babble, hand reaching down to tug at his hair. He moans against you, tongue pressing flat against your clit. Your thighs clench around his head, body tensing as you gush all over his tongue. He keeps licking until he’s tugged away, hazy-eyed and hard as a rock. 

“My… treat?” Naoya mutters hoarsely. He’s never one to miss out on… anything that benefits him, really. He’s twitching in his trousers, leaking pre-cum steadily, and he’s just about ready to accept anything that’ll let him get off.

“Always an impatient brat.” Toji says under his breath, large hands coming down to position you on the sofa — hands and knees against the cushions — before stripping off his pants and boxers. “Think Naoya’s sorry, baby. Wanna return the favour while daddy has a turn on your pretty little pussy?”

You’re still panting from your previous orgasm, but the idea of being stuffed from both ends has your cunt pulsing. You flinch a little as your dad slides into you, whimpering softly as your walls flutter around him. You’re still sensitive, biting down on your lower lip to stifle your moans. 

“Aww, cute. Tryna be quiet, baby?” Toji coos, thrusting forward hard, just once, to make you squeal. “Naoya can help with that, yeah? Gonna let him fill that mouth?”

You nod, and Naoya considers that permission. You’ve never seen someone move so fast, his hands hastily pulling at his clothes. He slides onto the couch, kneeling in front of you. 

The only issue with his mouth no longer being preoccupied is he’s now capable of speaking again, and he makes that known to the entire room. He slowly slides his length past your lips, head titling back as the tight, wet heat of your mouth engulfs him. 

“Fuck, that’s good. I knew there had to be a reason my cousin kept you around, considering how useless you are at everything else.” As soon as the words leave his lips, the sharp, harsh sound of skin of skin fills the room. You don’t realise what happened at first, but Toji hips stutter at the exact moment Naoya lets out a sharp hiss of pain. 

Your dad hit him. Hard enough to have his cheek glowing red, his head cocked to the side from the force of the smack. You expect a tantrum, another speech. You get neither. 

His hips buck so violently his cock lodges itself deep in your throat, making you gag. Your eyes water at you look up at him, his pupils blown as a smug smile stretches across his face. 

“Weird little freak.” Your dad grunts, still fucking into you with further. His hands find your hips, pulling you back against his thrusts as you drool eagerly all over Naoya’s cock. 

“Guilty,” Naoya purrs in reply, words cocky and self-assured as he threads his hands in your hair to hold you steady, giving him the leverage he needs to fuck your face. 

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth when you’re talkin’ to my daughter, or I’ll make you sit in the corner and watch me play with her instead.” Toji growls. 

At least that seems to quieten him down, if only so he doesn’t have to give up the pleasure your mouth is bringing him. Naoya’s thighs begin to twitch at the same time his grip in your hair tightens. You work harder at licking along his length, sucking eagerly as he fucks your throat. 

“Come… coming, fuck.” Naoya hisses, forces the entirety of his length down your throat. You choke as his seed fills your throat, unable to do anything but swallow with your nose pressed firmly against his pelvis. You cough and splutter when he finally pulls out, a mix of cum and spit coating your lips and chin as he collapses in the corner of the couch. 

He watches lazily as your dad fucks you. Toji takes the opportunity to push your chest into the couch, nuzzling the nape of your neck to let you hear the quiet grunts he lets out against your skin as his chest presses against your back. His grip on your hips is tight, yanking you back to meet each of his thrusts. 

His cock hits that spongy spot inside of you that has you positively mewling with each jolt of his hips, his lips hot and hungry as he trails kisses along your skin. “Fuck, baby. So pretty. Such a good girl for me, so good… go on, cum for me, sweetheart. Show Naoya how good you are for daddy.”

His words are your undoing, a broken cry leaving you as you cream around his cock, slick coating his length and dripping down his balls. He thrusts lazily a few more times, biting down on your shoulder as he cums deep inside your trembling cunt. 

You flop down almost immediately, falling boneless against the couch. Your head falls against Naoya’s thigh, chest heaving with each panting breath you let out. 

“Might as well come up here,” Naoya hums with surprising softness, arm falling away from his side languidly. It’s about as open as an invitation to snuggle as you’re going to get. 

You shift up against his body, dropping down against his chest with a tired sigh. Toji just laughs, leaning back in his heels. “Christ. Never thought I’d see the day.”

Naoya glares at him, wrapping his arm around your waist. Your eyes are already shut, and Naoya’s close a moment later. Only moments later, you’re both passed out. 

“Brats.” Toji grumbles under his breath as he pulls a throw blanket around your sleeping forms, an unmistakable fondness to his tone. 

[sweetheartbitesb4ck]

part one || part two || part three || this is part four

The weeks following your first 'date' with Simon were full of going on little walks together, but most of all? The pings, to say the least. He would text you so often it came as a shock to you he even had a job. You found it amusing, sure, maybe even annoying, but you hadn't anticipated the sheer silence when he was 'away with work', as he put it.

You had guessed that meant deployed or something of the sorts... and it worried you, yeah, but your feelings for him were still new and you didn't want to get hurt if anything was to happen.

You'd been excited when he'd promised to write to you a few days before he left, but as the days flew by with nothing more than some bills, bank statements and late birthday cards dropping through the letter box it occurred to you that Simon Riley had been too blown away when he first saw you in your house to remember the road name, and far to drunk when he first spoke to you to remember the number on your front door.

So Simon sat there when he wasn't fighting or in briefings and had downtime (which was rare) writing letters he knew he couldn't send away, partly because it was a risk to send stuff away and partly because he would just blank on your god damn address every single time.

He didn't even have his phone because of something to do with trackers and intel and it was all a bit of a fuzz of unconfirmed information that Simon had explained to on a walk a few days before his departure.

This is what worried you. You obviously knew the dangers, and you two weren't even 'official' yet, but you would have liked to be updated. You couldn't help but feel a bit sick when your mind travelled to the horrors his job could boast.

Prior to his deployment, you and Simon had got to know each other a little better, which only made your nerves worse now you had more of a bond, plus you had gotten to see the less flustered version of him. You'd mostly talked over the phone but had also gone on a few walks together. It felt weird; missing someone you'd so quickly fallen for. You could only hope as the days blurred into weeks then into months.

Then, two months later, Simon was back. He'd been resting and getting medical support for a day or two before he journeyed home, and his first thought? It was to retrace his steps down that one road to that house with the open window that had changed everything. He could have slept, unpacked, done anything, but all he wanted to do was to see you.

You groan as you hear a knock against the door... you'd just about drifted off after hours and hours of tossing and turning, your head reluctant to rest. Trudging downstairs, you pull on a hoodie over your pyjamas. "Who the fuck..?" You murmur, clicking on the hallway light and unbolting the door, ready to dive back into bed.

"What?" You grumble as you swing the door just a crack open, your eyes widening and breath hitching at seeing that tall frame and skull mask. You slam it shut, fumbling to unlatch the door and burst it open, flying into the bulky man's arms and screaming.

Simon grins under the balaclava, stumbling backwards slightly as you bounce onto him. "You alright?" He asks, his voice so nonchalant even as you wrap your arms around him. Probably still trying to seem cool for you.

You pull back, face still covered in shock. "Fucking alright? That's all you have to say?" You cry, voice a few pitches higher than usual. "Fuck, Simon... you said you would write!" You mumble, leaning back in to hug him. Part of you wanted to say there forever, holding him there and squeezing him as hard as you could, but you knew you should probably invite him in. So that's what you do.

His mind flicks back to Soap's so called relationship advice, the words "honesty is key" in that loud Scottish accent rattling through his mind. "Okay fine," He grunts, avoiding eye contact. "I hate tea. Can't bloody stand the stuff."

"Well," Ghost replies, shoving his hands into the big pockets of his tactical jacket as he steps inside, shutting the front door behind him and following you to the kitchen "I didn't know your address," He admits, smirking as you raise an eyebrow at him and snicker. "Oh yeah," You chuckle slightly, trying to refrain from smothering the poor bloke as he takes a seat at your table. "Tea?" You tilt your head and glance at the kettle.

"I hate t-" Simon bites the inside of his cheek and curses under his breath. Fuck... He thinks, realising him lying about loving the drink would probably wean him into having it regularly. "Tea's great," He nods, noting how you raise your eyebrows, expression sceptical.

Simon nods, rubbing his eyes sarcastically. "It's probably too late to walk home, aye," He says, eyebrows raised.

You huff with amusement, flicking the kettle off and rifling through your cabinet. "I'm out of coffee,"

You and Simon chatted for hours, sitting at the table. At first, he was jittery, but he soon relaxed, trying to stop staring at you, although this was hard as he finds you so breathtakingly perfect.

A few hours later, you tilt your head and smile at Ghost as he yawns. "You must be tired," You say softly, leaning on the counter.

"Yeah," You respond, scratching your neck with a mock confusion. "Lucky I have a double bed, eh?"

And with that, the two of you curled up on the mattress, Ghost pulling you towards him, arms firm around you as he let the gentle rise and fall of your chest guide him to sleep.

"You're sure?" Asks Ghost, his nervous expression from the coffee shop returning to his face. He was still terrified of scaring you away, but wanted nothing more than to collapse onto your bed and just hold you. You nod, smiling gently. "Come on." Taking your hand, Simon follows you upstairs to your cosy room, allowing himself to relax, stop being awkward. The decoration alone made him feel at home, probably because it shone with your personality.

Love. Simon was sure that's what that feeling was... the one that had seized his whole being since he first set eyes upon you.

Never in a million years would he have predicted this if he was asked about his future a few months ago, but here you were, two awkward and unsure people falling in love from nowhere.

thank you sm for reading! I hope you enjoyed part four..! if anyone wants a part five, I'll most likely do it, ( I just need to figure out what I'd write... probably something about the letters) but yea if u want that just let me know.... also, feel free to make any asks for fics u would like to see :)

sorry if my posting is irregular for a while! I'm back at uni and work after the Christmas break so very busy

[villainbait]

Lost and Found

Pairing: Sukuna x reader | Sukuna x genderless reader Rating: 16+ Tags: brief gore mention, canon sukuna behavior, angst, thriller, horror if you squint, drama, reincarnation, Summary: "I will find you." In your past life, you were Sukuna's jailer. In this one, you're simply an office worker hoping the King of Curses has simply forgotten you. Word Count: 750~ A/N: Sorry for the Sukuna jumpscare? I feel like most of you follow me for Sylus/LADS content, but I wrote this drabble as a warm up. ♥

“Hey, did you hear?” 

You half tune out the notorious office gossip, though you’d be lying if you didn’t sometimes enjoy hearing the petty drama happening within jujutsu society. The two in suits next to you were hardly attempting to keep their voices down, anyway. 

“The King of Curses is back.” 

You choke on your food. 

“Yeah man, he manifested after a thousand years inside some pink haired high school kid. Kid isn’t even a sorcerer, everyone’s shocked he didn’t die.” You took a chance and peeked at the guy sharing the gossip just in time to see him look disgusted. “I heard he actually ate the finger. What kind of psychopath just eats a cursed object, sorcerer or not?”  

Unbidden, a memory surfaced. 

“I will always find you, in every life if I must.” His four hands wrap around the bars despite the barrier and you feel the cursed energy keeping him confined shudder, but the wards hold fast as he slams himself against his cage. “You cannot escape me.”

The threat rings in your head like it was uttered yesterday, instead of a thousand years ago. 

“Get this, rumor is kid can control him.” 

You can’t help the dry snort of laughter that makes them look at you strangely but you ignore them and take a bite of your food that suddenly tastes like sandpaper as you fight the bubbling panic. 

The thought of your life being in the hands of a teenager’s control didn’t comfort you. You pulled out your phone and thumbed through your contacts, your finger hovering over Gojo Satoru’s number. Even if the head of the Gojo clan did answer your unknown call (unlikely), he was so lackadaisical that you had little hope of him taking you seriously at all.

The rest of the day ends in a blur of boring meetings and other tedious jobs that are handed down to worker bees like you and your other coworkers. Once or twice you were reprimanded by your superior for your lack of attention, but the conversation kept replaying that you had overheard at lunch; distracting you.

You tried to console yourself with the thought that Sukuna might have forgotten you, knowing full well he would never forget his gaoler. As you made your way to the train station, your anxiety eased with the realization that he didn’t know what you looked like in this century. You were lucky to have been reincarnated with a face that did not look like the original one you wore when you had met Ryomen Sukuna a thousand years ago when you had imprisoned him.

With his threat still ringing faintly in your ears, you stepped up to the yellow line and waited; your mind adrift as another long forgotten memory swirled beneath the surface.

His breath feathers across your ear and you shudder. “Beg me,” he murmurs, clawed fingertips raking across your stomach with a deceptively delicate touch. He could slice right through you, and you both knew it. “Beg me to save you.” 

“Sukuna,” you whispered his name with reverence and heard his breath catch from behind you. “Sukuna please, they’re coming.” 

“I’ll hear your explanation after,” he hissed and released you abruptly, joy splashing across his face at the prospect of a fight. It’s over before it had a chance to begin, the group of Heian sorcerers reduced to mere ribbons of flesh piled neatly on the ground. In an odd twist of fate, they had been hunting you, not Sukuna and he wanted to know why. It was clear you had intrigued him. 

“Weak.” Condescension drips from his tone, clearly unimpressed by their prowess and power. He flicks the remnants of flesh and blood from his fingers as if such filth is not worthy to touch his skin. 

He stalks towards you with the lazy ease of a prowling beast and you desperately want to run again. Not that you’d make it a single step, so you don’t even try. He reaches for you–

The announcement snaps you out of your thoughts as you’re pushed towards the entrance of the train.

“Rapid train bound for Shinjuku will be arriving at platform 3 shortly. Please stand back behind the yellow line and wait.”

Little did you know as you boarded the train, a certain pink-haired young man had been standing four rows down, staring curiously at you the entire time as a certain curse sweetly whispered convincingly to him.

[itsrlymine]

Hello, I noticed in one of your responses you said that you trade. Can you talk about how you trade. Sorry if this isn't manifestation related 😅. Have a nice day!

yes I do! I manifested it ofc. I used to trade when I was in university a few years ago but I “didn’t have” any money so I stopped. Then I realized I can have whatever I want so I can just trade instead of working long hours for money and going to school for a job I won’t even like. I was in a manifestation group and I saw a few success stories about people who decided to trade full time and easily and I was like omggg that’s me!!!

It’s the best thing I could ha e ever decided on fr and Zakari Hikari posted a success story of a client of his that made $260k USD in one month…. Let’s all stop thinking small pls.

I trade indices and some currencies and I also have a funded quant account. I just put in trades whenever and receive the highest profit. I learned bc it’s easy and effortless but I also wanted an account that would make money for me😭💖

[brown-little-robin]

I think I'm in the "conscious incompetence" stage of being a social animal in the real world and it sucks so majorly. bro what do you do after you realize you're bad at socializing and then in-person interaction gets harder because you know you're failing at it now.

[leighsartworks216]

Thinking about Sylus x assassin reader (specifically basing it on the Raven but vague enough to just generally be an assassin)

@comatosebunny09 I couldn't decide whether to dm you about this or make a full post about it so you're getting tagged anyway lmao

Specifically thinking about pain. Like, during sex, knifeplay and things like that, anything that is generally painful for the sake of pleasure. Playing into that a lot, into needing that pain to feel good, but... it's not really true

You get tortured so much for your job, more than you'd like to admit, so bringing that pain into the bedroom isn't actually great, but you have an image to hold about being immune to torture, so...

You're good at keeping up the act, too, until Sylus cradles your face so softly in his hands and kisses you sweet and slow. Hands caressing, not pinching or slapping or hurting you. And you want to fight back against it, you bite his lip, silently begging for pain, but he doesn't give it to you. He chuckles and trails light kisses down your neck, and he feels the shiver that runs through you

And it's confusing, it's scary, it's the great unknown. You think maybe he's doing this for some gain, a new sort of torture method that lowers your guard and strikes you when you're down. He has to be - why would he be soft with you? Why is he kissing your scars instead of adding to them? Why isn't he trying to draw blood? What is he trying to get out of you?

But it's the best damn thing you've ever felt. Someone who treats your skin like fine silk instead of a punching bag. Someone who holds you tenderly instead of grappling you. Someone who backs off when you flinch away

Crying after the second time it happens, because the first time you're too on guard to even get through it, but this time you trust him enough to give in and you've never been hit with a stronger orgasm. You've never whimpered and gasped like this, you've never had to stop at one orgasm when there's an overstimulating pain that comes from going on, but he stops, he holds you, he kisses you softly

[linskywords]

2024 HRPF recs

As has become my wont, I spent the last few weeks trying to catch up on some of the new fics in the hockey RPF tag that I missed over the course of the year. I definitely didn't get to everything, or even all of the most popular ones; there may also be a bias towards shorter fics here, as I was trying to get through a lot. 😅 But I hope you enjoy, and possibly find a gem or two that you missed!

First, some general favorites:

Scoring Effects by @helenish (McDrai, 30K): Ah, Helenish. A goddess among us. I love a good mistaken identity story, and this is a GREAT mistaken identity story.

barons by dilangley (MattDrai, 43K): Future fic in which Houston gets its own expansion team, Matthew coaches it, and Leon and Trevor Zegras play on it. Gorgeously done. The Trevor POV section broke me a bit, but it was worth it.

Living Things by @makeit-takeit (TK/Patty, 115K so far): I am so deeply invested in this series. It's very real and vivid-feeling future fic that does an amazingly thoughtful job exploring the NHL wife-and-kids pipeline and what happens when that doesn't fit you as well as you thought it would. The stories that are written so far feel nicely complete, but if you'd rather hold out for the full HEA, you can check out her Wild Ice for a different highlight from the past year.

put the stars in our eyes by @notthequiettype (McDrai, 17K): the McWedding story that I wish I had written. I thought it was going to destroy me, and instead it left me all warm and fuzzy.

Lost and Found by angry_geno_is_score (MattDrai, 2K): angry_geno_is_score had so much to choose from this year, as always, and I loved this as a microcosm of the hurt/comfort they do so well. If you like it, you know where to find more from them!

Next, we move to the irresistible new Sharks babies. I'm not sure I can oversell how hot these three stories managed to be:

come on (leave me breathless) by countthestars @moondoggiestyle (Will/Mack, 10K): I've already talked about how much I loved this one. There can never be too many stories of one player catching the other getting off in the shower, especially if they're as hot as this.

revising the shoreline by ohyellowbird @teex (Will/Mack, 6K): another super well done exploring-their-sexuality-while-not-talking-about-it story, aka my kryptonite.

teamwork makes the dreamwork by canary @bigdogenergy (Will/Mack and Will/Mack/Ryan Leonard, 19K): I'm sure a lot of you have already read this in the last week or so, but I couldn't not recommend it. Mack goes into heat and Will needs an alpha to help him out. Who to call but the ex?

And then we enter the realm of vaguely devastating but gorgeously written JDTZ trade fics:

home by now by donderwolk @donderwolkenblog (Jamie/Trevor, 6K): The moment they found out about the trade, and a little bit after. Brilliant, impeccable, ruinous.

heat check by jolach @hyggles (Jamie/Trevor and also Carts/Richie, 4K): Outsider perspective on Jamie and especially Trevor as they deal with the aftermath of the trade, through the eyes of Mike Richards, who may have some experience in the area. I don't know how anyone writes this well, honestly.

Finally, one of my favorite things about reading through the past year's fics is finding a prolific new author I love who I had totally missed in my year of mostly reading people I'm already subscribed to. This year it was unsay (@tungpin). They seem to have started writing HRPF this year, and they tend toward the kind of complicated sometimes-ambiguous stories that I never manage to write but love to read. Here are a few of my favorites of theirs from this year:

malt (MattDrai, 4K): Leon meets Sasha Barkov and has feelings about how he wants to be more serious than Matthew does (OR DOES HE).

accessory to the rockstar (McDrai, 5K): once again we have Leon having thoughts about how he feels more than the person he's into, this time about Connor. Bittersweet and lovely.

the care and keeping (Jamie/Trevor, 12K): in which Trevor's friends get on Jamie's case about neglecting him post-trade, and Jamie does something about it.

That's it from me, at least for now! I know there were many excellent stories this year I didn't get to, especially the long ones that I just didn't commit to while reading for this list. Perhaps this is the year I do what I've been telling myself to do for the past two years and keep track of what I read and love throughout the year. We can only dream. 😅

Happy reading!!

[sitp-recs]

2024 Wrapped: Drarry & Rarepair

I think we all agree that 2024 was far from great in many aspects. For me, last year was full of ups and downs with some happy fulfilling moments, and some very sad, difficult, anxiety-inducing moments. I took a few breaks from fandom and barely read anything in the 2nd half of the year, but a tradition is a tradition so here’s my annual wrapped, even if a bit late :) this list comes full of gratitude for the fics that brought me joy during these not so joyful times. It is also a love letter to short form as I did not have the time and mental space to indulge long fic as I used to. Looking at it, I’m happy to see a nice mix of old faves and new authors whose work I’ve been binging as if there was no tomorrow. As usual, keep in mind that this selection is 100% subjective as it reflects my very own perverted needs personal tastes. I hope you enjoy these gems as much as I did, and I wish you a generous new year, full of kindness and hope ✨

Drarry:

the sun between us by @eleadore (E, 7k)

Draco Malfoy, an omega. It was laughable until he was right in front of you, smelling like he was one shaky step from tripping into a heat. 

you can find my detailed rambling about this fic here, which btw is the first single rec I wrote in over an year because I was so overexcited I had to scream about it somewhere. deliriously sensual and self-indulgent but also full of biting, unrelenting snark, this is a must read to those who are into the good old push and pull of enemies to lovers. and mindblowing hot a/b/o sex as a treat :D

Heart to Hearth by @jtimu (E, 7k)

It should perhaps not have been a surprise that the repairman on his front step came not with coveralls and a toolbox but instead with a sardonic stare and a raised eyebrow.

my favourite odd job fic of 2024! what a fantastic concept to have a capable, smooth Draco rocking the hell out of those coveralls and making Harry (and all of us) salivate. this fic is a masterclass in short form: compelling characters (I love this disaster Harry so much), delicious build up and perfect pacing making their attraction feel genuine and organic.

Long Haul by @wolfpants (E, 9k)

The last person Harry expects to run into on a long haul flight to New York City is Draco Malfoy.

there’s something magically wistful about second chances and maybe that’s why I instantly fell in love with this beautiful love letter to Drarry and to NYC. I adore the gentle tone, the easy flirting and evocative atmosphere. the airplane smut is superb and there’s enough backstory to get you invested in their past without overshadowing the infinite possibilities the present is opening up for them right there. a beauty!

Spoiled Little Brat by @fastbrother (T, 9k)

Harry won’t stoop to Malfoy’s level. Really, he won’t. (He will.)

the best professors fic you’ll read today, this one pulled me right back into Drarry after summer break. what a delight of a fic - silly, fun, charming, with a perfect Hogwarts atmosphere that got me sad for not being there. their chemistry is unreal, with incredible banter - then deliberate teasing - and so much sexual tension it made me weak at the knees. oh, make sure to check the phenomenal art by @appleslightning!

When the Flood Comes by @academicdisasterfic (E, 10k)

Nine years on from the war, Auror Potter is upholding the Ministry of Magic's rule of law. Senior legal counsel Draco Malfoy is challenging it. And absolutely nothing is as it seems.

lawyer Draco in a suit is always a favourite, combined with a politics plot? sign me up 👏🏻 this is a beautiful, clever, thought-provoking story with a great premise perfectly executed within 10k (but it feels much longer), captivating characters, relevant discussions, detailed world building and be still my heart, the amount of yearning! a gorgeous break up/make up that slowly unravels their past and delivers just the right amount of heartbreak with impressive economy of words.

Knot Your Average Coworkers by @thecouchsofa (E, 22k)

Or: Harry makes a bunch of unintentional knotting jokes while an increasingly baffled Draco is driven insane.

I’ve read this almost a year ago and still remember laughing in delight from beginning to end. what a fun ride! my heart is soft for this cheeky, oblivious Harry with his cringey flirty banter and obsession with Draco’s secret 😂 their dynamic is perfect, light and silly and so very sweet. this fic is hilarious but also incredibly sexy and full of hot intimacy. I’m impressed by how easily Tee blends humour, fluff and heat so organically!

Home series by @hoko-onchi-writes (E, 22k)

In which Harry grows up in darkness, falls in love, fucks up, learns some things, and falls in love again.

my first hoko fic is still my favourite, I got so emo over this one. can’t get enough of this sad, lost Harry navigating the growing pains of post-war life. he’s so young and vulnerable, my heart aches for him. I loved to watch him go from a desperate, co-dependent situationship with Charlie to a more mature and grounded relationship with Draco. touching and melancholy, this story stays with you for a while.

The Superfluous Man by peu_a_peu (E, 24k)

A child for Harry Potter is a miracle of magic. And it's the second act of Draco Malfoy's sorry little life.

another banger by the phenomenal peu, this is the perfect mix of amusing and touching with one of my all-time fave Dracos. the prose is incredible and engaging as per: vibrant, clever, full of personality and with a refreshing take on mpreg that got me kicking my feet in joy. the smooth, effortlessly funny dialogue is a masterpiece in itself, but ah! the sweetness :')

Fine-Fractured Halo by @rainjulyx (E, 29k)

For Harry, it all starts on July 31, 1999 and ends on July 31, 2019. Twenty years of longing, love, and pain in no particular order.

I don’t usually go for unhappy endings but something about this fic lured me in and I felt completely changed after reading it. brace yourself for a quiet, heart-wrenching look into Harry and Draco’s situationship over the span of 20 years of longing and waiting. love the melancholy vibe and the complexity of an unreliable narrative. this story opened a hole inside my chest and stayed with me for a long, long time.

Truth to Materials by @toomuchplor (E, 54k)

In which Harry learns to appreciate art and other pleasures of the flesh.

god knows how this fic is still so underrated because it’s easily on my top 3 of 2024: sexy, moving, thought-provoking, funny and so very romantic and entertaining. I wanna live inside this universe and learn everything about quirky artist Draco and cute smitten Harry getting all curious and hungry for him. their dynamics are captivating, light and fun until the tenderness hits you right in the face. vibrant world building, brilliant cast, perfect dialogue and decadent hot smut - this fic delivers absolutely everything and you need to go read it right now.

this heaven of mud by @garagepaperback (E, 92k)

winter, 2002: Draco Malfoy is absolutely fine, thank you very much. summer, 2008: Harry Potter is, er- well, not good exactly, but definitely better. Yeah. Better than before.

I've inhaled everything garage has written last year and it was hard to pick one for this list, but I knew it had to be this banger. fuck buddies my beloved! this is an immersive and satisfying ride and I love how their relationship slowly unfolds to the reader. seeing them so young and stupid was nostalgic, aching and bittersweet at once, but I wasn’t expecting to be so moved by the romance! a brilliant character study, full of tension and heart.

Rare Pairs:

o fiery sun by @onbeinganangel (E, 3k) - Theo/Harry

Is it actual solstice magic or is Theo Nott just suddenly, really, stupidly, impossibly hot?

I’ve been low-key into this ship thanks to NottPott Chronicles and Mari delivers everything I expected of a “reluctant case partners to fuck buddies” 🔥 what a premise! I’m so hot for Seer Theo who’s a teasing little shit driving Harry up the wall lol their chemistry is explosive, dripping with sexual tension and the promise of more. Drarry fans need to check this asap!

One Night in Hogsmeade by @lqtraintracks (E, 4k) - Prongsfoot

While there are hearts in this world James hasn’t minded breaking, Sirius’s has never been one of them.

trust LQT to ruin me with this ship, which I so carefully avoid hoping to dodge the devastation. but it only takes James and Sirius sharing one brain cell and being all hot and wanton for each other and here I am, dead and buried. this has LQT's trademark of insanely hot smut dripping with angsty feels. the characters are so dear and full of heart, and I can’t handle the amount of desire, trust and fond familiarity they share.

Nightswimming by @sweet-s0rr0w (M, 5k) - Dronarry

Weasley flicks the light on. “I got off with a guy once, you know,” he says, casually, holding the torch up between his gloved fingers.

my favorite Dronarry of the year, this fic was such a unique experience! a masterclass in short form, as per sweet’s usual. such a delicious and expertly crafted foreplay, the mounting tension swallowed me whole and left me at the edge of my seat yearning for more. I need this flirty Ron in my bed life, jfc. the car sequence is one of the best executed scenes I’ve ever read, with such a distinct, sexy dream-like atmosphere. instant classic!

Three's a Crowd (But Four is a Party) by @kbrick (E, 7k) - Harry/Draco/Pansy/Blaise, endgame Drarry

Pansy and Draco have been together for ages. Kind of. They don't sleep together any more, but they do sleep with men together. It's complicated.

also known as the pwp that made me tear up with feels for Pansy & Draco, this is a beautiful and moving love letter to their friendship. I love the layers behind their co-dependency, it’s a really nuanced dynamic while also being a deliciously and self-indulgent poly smutty treat. the sex sequence is smoking hot and a feast for the eyes, with such sweet Drarry chemistry! beautiful and immensely satisfying from beginning to end.

Wield Me by @tackytigerfic (E, 10k) - Drarry + Teddy

A little story about learning to strike while the iron is hot.

I’ve already poured my heart out about this fic on a dedicated rec post but suffice to say this is the tenderest, most creative short I’ve read last year. the rich and detailed world building is absolutely jaw dropping, and all characters are so lovable and fascinating. I’m obsessed with pining blacksmith Draco, and very impressed by how Tacky successfully includes my beloved Teddy in the equation while keeping this a legit (and very much romantic!) Drarry love story. so smooth, so moving. witchcraft

Permanent by @citrusses (M, 13k) - Dron, Drarry

"Harry's always been fixated on older men. Have you ever noticed that, Ron?” Granger asks.

the gasp of utter delight I let out with every citrus fic this year! brilliant time travel concept perfectly executed, I’m still in awe of how much story and character development citrus was able to convey under 15k. sexy, intriguing, slightly melancholy with a clever twist and a hopeful open ending that took the story to another level and made me shake in satisfaction. easily on my top 3 works from last year’s Dronarry Fest!

Dick Chicken by @oknowkiss (E, 15k) - Dronarry

This is a story about nothing.

yep, this is the Seinfeld AU I didn’t know I needed! this fic is so incredibly funny, original and engaging - a brilliant homage to the show’s silly, chaotic ecosystem and cleverly adapted to incorporate elements from the HP universe. I just couldn’t decide between laughing my ass off at the unique brand of humor, falling in love with this sweet Harry or getting all hot and bothered for the Dronarry sexual tension omg

Worth a Thousand Words by @fluxweeed (E, 18k) - Dron

TIL wizards in Britain can avoid ward duty on the grounds of homosexuality. To avoid any false applications, wizards applying for this exemption must provide multiple pictures of themselves receiving anal intercourse with a clearly visible face.

a recent Dron fave, this sexy af and delightful fic translates the ship's essence perfectly: hilarious, scorching hot and a bit unhinged. the absurd premise serves the hottest and most entertaining "fuck first, talk later" trope with the right amount of sass, horny and sweet pining. I love Ron's voice here, curious and indulging and absolutely oblivious but still up for the ride. and Draco’s so hot for him, gosh the smut is so delicious. big bonus points for these AMAZING Harry and Hermione!

periculum by @the-invisibility-bloke (E, 25k) - Sirry

Harry needs someone to take control. Or maybe he just needs Sirius.

the fic that introduced me to El’s writing - my new age gap champion - had me on the floor just a few paragraphs in. this masterpiece covers everything that make this ship deliciously dirtybadwrong: Harry’s sweet longing, Sirius’s spiraling want and guilt clashing with the desire to give Harry everything he wants, the constant grasp for some control while toeing the line that gets blurred, then completely obliterated. exquisite build up and scorching sex scenes, so heated and satisfying!

INCENDIO by swoons (E, 42k) - Albus/James

Albus is just looking for something to get his mind off his brother. When Lily suggests he try INCENDIO, a popular dating app, he has no idea what fate — or the algorithm — has in store for him.

this was actually written in 2023 but I’m making an exception because wow, what a delightful Pottercest fic! this reawakened all my feelings for this ship. great pacing and the right amount of tension, pining, plus the BEST innuendos and poor sex jokes you’ll read today. Al and James have such distinct, charming voices and a deliciously sassy chemistry, plus matchmaker Lily stole the scene, I so enjoyed their dynamics. instant favorite!