#technological arms race

[headlinehorizon]

The Race for AI Dominance: Pentagon Plans AI-Powered Fleet to Counter China's Aggression

Deputy Secretary of Defense Kathleen Hicks addresses the urgency of countering China's aggression with an AI-powered fleet, as the Pentagon invests heavily in deploying thousands of AI systems within two years. The outcome of this technological arms race holds profound implications for global power dynamics.

[serpentface]

Retconned Wardi firearms- a basic handgun, a highly decorative ceremonial handgun (belonging to Faiza), and a lance-gun.

Gun tech has officially been nerfed down to hand cannons (press F) (this has been a long time coming but I'd been fallacy of sunk costs-ing myself out of retconning).

Handguns are held similarly to a shotgun, with the butt pressed into the user's shoulder, one hand gripping under the barrel, and the other free to ignite the gunpowder. These represent the most advanced firearms in contemporary usage, both in make and in their use of uniform iron projectiles built to match the gun's bore for greater range and efficiency. Lance-guns are the more basal form, usually larger and mounted with the pole held over the shoulder, and are most effectively used by two people (one to hold and aim, one to light the gunpowder).

The spread of firearms is currently mostly limited to the Eastern Inner Seaway peoples (with some additional distribution via overland trade), and actual manufacture of hand cannons and gunpowder at Significant scale is limited to the region's core powers.

The reason for this limited spread is partially due to specific elements of the technology's history. Gunpowder was first synthesized by Burri alchemists and considered to be the discovery of the legendary divine weapon + solar fire of the deity Inanariya, and its formula (along with techniques for ideally refining its components) remained a closely guarded state secret. It was used predominantly in priestly contexts to generate flame and explosive sounds (in conjunction with earlier practices of generating multicolored flames with use of other chemicals), then integrated into combustible weaponry in the forms of fire lances, which would eventually develop into early handcannons.

The treatment of gunpowder as a guarded sacred or semi-sacred substance continued with Wardi adoption, where knowledge of its making is considered a closed rite. It's name (inya tsatsul or just tsatsul, a derived adoption of the Burri iñazatsūya) still reflects a divine solar association (the Burri word means 'sun's thunder', the Wardi 'inya' invokes the sun, 'tsatsul' is an adapted loanword and has no meaning independent of the substance itself), though its priestly use is now predominantly associated with the firearm'ed Odonii (rather than priests of the solar Face Inyamache). The composition of gunpowder can no longer be regarded as a Secret by any means, though efforts to obscure the methods of its creation are still moderately successful and has kept knowledge of gunpowder manufacture more limited than the total sphere of firearm usage itself.

The actual strongest limiting factor of firearm usage is the rarity of natural saltpeter deposits necessary for making gunpowder. The practice of actively producing saltpeter via nitraries has not been developed anywhere in the setting, and all is instead obtained via natural sources. These sources are rare and limited within the current spread of firearm technology, and result in gunpowder being a limited and expensive substance to produce. The weapons themselves are also very expensive to manufacture (a good quality steel SWORD is far too material-cost prohibitive for most people to own), particularly high quality firearms designed for use with standardized ammunition.

These guns are also very basal, and logistical difficulties in their use (weight, very slow loading and firing speed, high visibility, Relatively low reach and accuracy) along with the restrictive cost of production has kept firearms far from rendering conventional weaponry, armor, and projectiles obsolete (even within the societies that have access to them). They are still, however, very devastating in use within their contemporary context, particularly in that high quality guns have a longer range than the best arrow-based projectiles, and utterly negate most contemporary forms of armor at close range.

[checkadii]

mfs do anything but finish their wips . like startign another, for example

[kingsonne-zedecks]

Plus the secret fourth and fifth dimensions!

I didn't perceive the meaning <--> I Got It

It wasn't for me <--> I was the intended audience

people have got to learn the difference between I didnt like it and It was bad

[myberndpulch]

✌The Rise of Artificial Intelligence in Warfare: Ethics, Risks, and Global Implications

“Battles of the Future: How AI is Redefining Warfare” Introduction Artificial Intelligence (AI) is revolutionizing industries worldwide, and warfare is no exception. From autonomous drones to AI-driven surveillance, these advancements are reshaping the nature of conflict. However, as AI integrates into military strategies, it raises pressing ethical, legal, and geopolitical concerns. This…

[latestnews-now]

NATO’s Admiral Pierre Vandier issues a wake-up call for Europe to reform its defense strategies and ramp up military readiness. Highlighting weaknesses in space tech, IT systems, and logistics, Vandier warns that Europe risks falling behind in the global arms race. Learn how increased defense spending and strategic reforms can shape Europe’s future.

[shortnsalt]

I think everyone who makes websites should work a tech help job. See how they like going through 3 drop-down menus when you don't have the fine motor skills to keep the mouse still enough and both you and the person you're helping are ready to be in tears from frustration cause you have to use this website they won't let you do it in person

[disarmamentawarenessday]

Press conference on the Fourth Review Conference on the Programme of Action on Small Arms and Light Weapons.

Press Conference: USG Izumi Nakamitsu (UNODA), Amb. Maritza Chan-Valverde, President-designate of RevCon4 and Ivor Fung, Chief of Conventional Arms Branch (UNODA) on the Fourth Review Conference on the Programme of Action on Small Arms and Light Weapons

Hybrid briefing by Under-Secretary-General and High Representative for Disarmament Affairs, Izumi Nakamitsu, along with Ambassador Maritza Chan-Valverde, President-designate of RevCon4 and Ivor Fung, Chief of the Conventional Arms Branch in the United Nations Office for Disarmament Affairs (UNODA). They will brief reporters on the Fourth Review Conference on the Programme of Action on Small Arms and Light Weapons.

[pucksandpower]

Nothing to Prove

Charles Leclerc x Vettel!Reader

Summary: it’s a tale as old as time — every female sports fan has been told to “prove” her fandom at least once in her life — but the man quizzing you quickly learns the error of his ways

The Miami sun beats down relentlessly as you make your way through the bustling paddock, your destination the familiar red and white of the Ferrari motorhome. The air buzzes with pre-race excitement, mechanics and team personnel darting about like worker bees in a particularly colorful hive.

You’re so focused on navigating the crowd that you almost don’t notice the young man who steps directly into your path, phone held aloft. His grin is a touch too smug for comfort.

“Excuse me, miss,” he says, voice dripping with false politeness. “Mind if I ask you a few questions for my TikTok?”

You hesitate, torn between ingrained courtesy and a gnawing sense of unease. “I’m actually in a bit of a hurry-”

“It’ll only take a minute,” he insists, already hitting record. “So, tell me, what’s your favorite thing about Formula 1?”

The question seems innocent enough, but there’s something in his tone that sets your teeth on edge. Still, you decide to play along for now. “Well, I love the strategy, the technology, the way the whole sport pushes the boundaries of what’s possible-”

He cuts you off with a laugh. “Come on, be honest. It’s the hot drivers, right? That’s why most girls watch.”

You blink, momentarily stunned by his blatant misogyny. “Excuse me?”

“No judgment!” He says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I get it, they’re all rich and fit. But let’s see how much you really know. Who won the 1976 World Championship?”

You open your mouth to answer, but he barrels on.

“What’s the difference between understeer and oversteer? How many points do you get for fastest lap? Come on, if you’re a real fan, this should be easy!”

Your initial discomfort has morphed into full-blown anger. “Look, I don’t have to prove anything to you. My knowledge of the sport isn’t-”

“Ah, so you can’t answer,” he says, triumphant. “Just as I thought. Another pretty face here for the-”

“Is there a problem here?”

The smooth voice comes from just behind you, followed by the warmth of a familiar body pressing against your back. Strong arms wrap around your waist, and you instinctively lean into the embrace.

The TikToker’s eyes go wide as saucers as he takes in the newcomer. “You’re ... you’re ...”

“Charles Leclerc,” your boyfriend finishes for him, voice deceptively mild. “And you are ...”

The young man sputters, clearly thrown off his game. “I’m ... I mean... I was just asking your girl here some questions about F1.”

Charles’ arms tighten fractionally around you. “Is that so? Because from where I was standing, it sounded more like an interrogation.”

You turn your head slightly, meeting Charles’ gaze. His green eyes are blazing with a protective fury that makes your heart skip a beat.

“It’s fine,” you murmur. “He was just leaving.”

Charles raises an eyebrow at the TikToker, who’s looking increasingly desperate to be anywhere else. “You heard the lady.”

But the young man, perhaps realizing his video is about to become internet gold, rallies. “Wait! I mean, no offense, but how do we know she’s not just with you for the fame? Can she even name your teammate?”

You feel Charles tense behind you, but before he can speak, you’ve had enough. You step out of his embrace, squaring up to the TikToker.

“Carlos Sainz Jr.,” you say, voice hard. “Currently P4 in the championship. And since you’re so keen on quizzing people, James Hunt won in ‘76, understeer is when the front of the car doesn’t turn enough while oversteer is when the rear steps out too much, and you get one point for fastest lap if you finish in the top ten. Any other burning questions?”

The TikToker gapes at you, clearly unprepared for this turn of events. Charles, for his part, looks like he’s trying very hard not to laugh.

“I ... but ...” the young man stammers.

You press on, building up a head of steam. “Oh, and fun fact — my brother has four World Championships. But I’m sure you knew that, being such an expert and all.”

The TikToker’s face drains of color as realization dawns. “Your brother? You’re Sebastian Vettel’s sister?”

Charles can’t contain his amusement any longer. He laughs, the sound rich and warm. “I tried to warn you. You’ve awakened the beast.”

You shoot him a mock glare. “You’re not helping.”

He holds up his hands in surrender, still grinning. “Far be it from me to interfere with your righteous fury. Please, continue.”

The TikToker looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. “I ... I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize-”

“That women can be genuine fans?” You interrupt. “That we might actually understand and love the sport for its own sake? Or just that you shouldn’t make assumptions about people based on their gender?”

He winces. “All of the above?”

Charles steps forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. The touch is gentle, but there’s steel in his voice when he speaks. “I think it’s time for you to go. And delete that video while you’re at it.”

The young man nods frantically, fumbling with his phone. In his haste to retreat, he trips over his own feet, sprawling ungracefully on the ground. Charles moves to help him up, ever the gentleman, but you put a restraining hand on his arm.

“Let him sort himself out,” you mutter. “A little humiliation might do him some good.”

Charles chuckles, pulling you close. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

As the TikToker scrambles away, face burning with embarrassment, you allow yourself to relax into Charles’ embrace. The adrenaline of the confrontation leaves you feeling a bit shaky.

“You okay?” Charles asks softly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You nod, letting out a long breath. “Yeah. Just ... frustrated. Why do people still think like that?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I wish I knew. It’s not fair, the assumptions people make.”

“It’s not just about me,” you say, turning to face him fully. “It’s about all the female fans out there who get treated like this. Who get quizzed and belittled and have their passion questioned at every turn.”

Charles nods, his expression serious. “You’re right. It’s a bigger problem than just one idiot with a TikTok account.”

“Sometimes I wonder if it will ever change,” you admit, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over you.

Charles cups your face in his hands, his touch impossibly gentle. “It will,” he says with conviction. “Because of people like you who stand up and call it out. Who refuse to let ignorance go unchallenged.”

You lean into his touch, allowing yourself a small smile. “When did you get so wise?”

He grins, some of his usual playfulness returning. “I have my moments. Don’t tell anyone though, it’ll ruin my reputation.”

You laugh, the tension finally starting to dissipate. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Charles leans in, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m proud of you, you know,” he murmurs. “The way you handled that ... it was impressive.”

“Yeah?” You ask, a hint of vulnerability creeping into your voice.

“Absolutely,” he says firmly. “You were brilliant. Fierce. Passionate.” His voice drops lower, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Incredibly sexy.”

You swat his arm playfully. “Behave yourself, Leclerc. We’re in public.”

He affects an innocent expression that doesn’t fool you for a second. “I’m always on my best behavior.”

You snort. “That’s what worries me.”

Charles laughs, the sound bright and carefree. It never fails to make your heart soar. He takes your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. “Come on, let’s get to the motorhome. I think we both could use a moment of peace before the craziness really begins.”

As you walk hand in hand through the paddock, you can’t help but reflect on the incident. It leaves a sour taste in your mouth, but there’s also a spark of hope. Because for every misogynistic TikToker, there are countless fans — of all backgrounds — who love the sport for what it is. Who appreciate the skill, the strategy, the sheer spectacle of it all.

And maybe, just maybe, standing up to ignorance one interaction at a time is how change really happens.

Charles squeezes your hand, pulling you from your thoughts. “What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?”

You smile, leaning into him slightly as you walk. “Just thinking about how lucky I am. To be here, doing what I love. To have people in my life who support me and believe in me.”

He brings your joined hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “The luck goes both ways, mon cœur. You make me better, on and off the track.”

As you approach the Ferrari motorhome, its bright red a beacon in the sea of team colors, you feel a renewed sense of purpose. There will always be challenges, always be those who try to tear others down. But with love, determination, and a refusal to back down from what’s right, anything is possible.

Even changing the world of Formula 1, one small interaction at a time.

[faultfalha]

A new arms race is on among countries for critical minerals. These minerals are essential for the production of modern technology, and many countries are racing to secure control over them. Some experts believe that this arms race could lead to global conflict, as countries battle for control over the world's dwindling resources.

[kettlefire]

Not so Different. (DcxDp)

The stunned silence was louder than the rest of the gala had been. Every single pair of eyes were wide with shock, fear, and even concern. The last sound to have left the patrons was scattered gasps at the reveal.

It was meant to be simple. A new up and coming technological company had put all their savings into this. A huge gala to show of the reason the world needed their technology. Needed their help.

No one believed it. Truly, who could have? A large group of men and women dressed purely in white suits, spouting about the threats of ghosts. It was insane and impossible.

Many of the big names that attended today only came for publicity. The notoriety that came with having been there when this company crashed and burned in one night.

It's the only reason Bruce Wayne was even among the crowd. Accompanied by Oliver Queen and his own son, Dick Grayson. As much as Bruce hadn't wanted to be here, he knew his reputation was important to keep up.

That was until two agents stepped out onto a stage they had at the back of the large room. A thick curtain had kept the sight behind it completely hidden from the patrons. Until the moment was right. That was when the thick curtain had suddenly been ripped back, as a third man took a microphone and began to explain.

But his words fell on deaf ears. Especially for the three secret vigilantes in the crowd. Not a single person could tear their gaze away from the cage that now stood in full view.

It wasn't the cage that had everyone enraptured. No, it was the glowing creature curled up in the center of it. No, not a creature. It was a boy. Still baby faced and youthful. Too young to be in a cage.

A high-tech muzzle was securely wrapped tightly against the boy's mouth. His knees pulled tight to his chest, one arm wrapped around them. His other hand pressed tight against the muzzle, seeming to almost be trying to keep it in place.

The boy's toxic green eyes were wide, filled with a clear intensity of pain and terror. There were old tear stains on his cheeks, quickly being replenished with fresh tears. His messy, bright white hair fell into his face. The boy looked both like he wanted to look away, but also like he couldn't. Like he couldn't risk not seeing the threat coming.

It didn't take a genius to see the boy was in pain. Human or not, this went beyond inhumane treat. Making minds racing with thoughts of what else these people had done to the poor boy.

Bruce knew in this moment that this company had just caught the attention of Batman. Based on the look in Oliver's eyes, they also just collected the wrath of the Justice League as well. Bruce hadn't even needed to look at Dick to know he was on the same page.

It went unnoticed by any other patrons. All the focus was glued on the stage, on the lecture and caged boy. No one noticed when Bruce Wayne slipped his phone of his pocket. When he hit a singular speed dial as he turned away from the show. He brought his phone to his ear as he silently signaled his trusted allies to keep an eye on it.

[theonottsbxtch]

THE OTHER GUY PT.6 | FC43

an: and we've reached the final part of the series! i hope you guys have enjoyed this as much as i have, it was very fun to write and i can't wait to write something soon :) remember my requests are always open!!

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five |

ynpiastri

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, landonorris and 30,382 others

spain, i'll miss you 🥲

*tap to load more comments*

userone: spain yn was my fav yn

usertwo: is that franco? 👀

userthree: it's probably oscar or logan

oscarpiastri: i have an idea, i pay you to stay in spain for the rest of your life and you never come to the track again

logansargeant: i need her there, you're not a reliable source of gossip

ynpiastri: if you don't invite me, i have other ways of being there

userfour: franco? 👀

userfive: your honour i love them

lilyznimer: can't wait to see you again

ynpiastri: @/oscarpiastri HA SHE LOVES ME MORE THAN YOU 😹🫵😹🫵

usersix: yn, we're all here for franco confirmation. give it to us.

twitter

francolapinto

liked by alex_albon, williamsracing, ynpiastri and 985,352 others

back to work, i hate this country 🌧️

*tap to load more comments*

alex_albon: next time take me to spain too

francolapinto: yes boss

userone: no yn confirmation ☹️☹️

williamsracing: franco...

francolapinto: no amount of media training will make me lie about this country

usertwo: where's yn?

userthree: we want to see FRANYN!

userfour: she's in his likes. im connecting dots.

userfive: stop being delusional, you ain't connecting shit.

twitter

ynpiastri

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, francolapinto and 29,453 others

me when i remember that i actually have a big girl job and living off of oscar's money in his spare room isn't actually what i do with my life.

*tap to load more comments*

userone: wife

usertwo: she has a job?? i thought she just went to gp's with oscar

ynpiastri: SHE has a masters in engineering design and technology 💅

userthree: cleared

oscarpiastri: move out please

ynpiastri: no 😁

userfour: still no franco

userfive: girl they both have full time jobs

usersix: MOTHERRRRR

logansargeant: you're a psycho for bringing your laptop to the beach btw

ynpiastri: i don't think i asked for your opinion, hope that helps lo! 😘

interview with franco colapinto

twitter

ynpiastri

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, mclarenracing and 31,439 others

supporting my favourite mclaren driver (not oscar)

*tap to load more comments*

userone: I WANT TO BE HER

usertwo: I WANT HER

oscarpiastri: funny joke

logansargeant: or is it..👀

userthree: imagine living her life

landonorris: i thought your favourite driver didn't race for mclaren [this comment has been deleted]

userfour: she's so pretty

userfive: still no sign of franyn

twitter

twitter

francolaptino

liked by williamsracing, alex_albon, ynpiastri and 924,235 others

the only women in my life btw (not that anyone asked)

*tap to load more comments*

userone: oh😀

usertwo: i don't believe it

alex_albon: this guy

userthree: he's so unintentionally funny

williamsracing: how cute

imessage between logan and yn

twitter

twitter

ynpiastri

argentina

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, francolapinto and 31,435 others

would rather date traffic cone (holiday dump coming soon x)

*comments have been turned off*

offseason 2024

The golden Argentinan sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, amber glow across the quiet, coastal villa. His family home sat nestled on the edge of a cliff, overlooking the endless blue stretch of sea. The scent of saltwater drifted in on the breeze, mingling with the fragrant citrus trees that lined the garden.

You and Franco sat on a cushioned wicker sofa in the sunroom, the wide-open windows framing the breathtaking view. The room had a rustic charm—whitewashed walls, terracotta tiles, and soft, earth-toned furniture. His arm was draped lazily around your shoulders, pulling you close as you both idly scrolled through your phones, the sounds of crashing waves and distant seagulls filling the peaceful silence.

But neither of you were really focused on the phones. The fan speculations and social media drama had become a background hum—amusing, but distant. For months now, you’d both kept this secret relationship hidden, playing the game of cat-and-mouse with the public, teasing and trolling them into thinking you were still enemies.

“Do they really still think I hate you?” you muttered, your lips curving into an incredulous smile as you glanced at a fan comment. “I’ve done too good a job convincing them.”

He chuckled, his voice low and smooth as he leaned in closer to peek at your screen. “Well, you have been pretty savage online. You didn’t hold back with that last post, hermosa.”

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, playful. “Says the guy who told the press I’d have to beg for a date. I never forgot that one.”

He grinned down at you, his light brown eyes twinkling with amusement. “I mean, to be fair, you did tweet that you wouldn’t date me if I were the last man on earth.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. “Touché.”

His laughter faded, replaced by a softer, more thoughtful expression. His fingers tracing slow, absent-minded circles on your arm, and his gaze shifts from the ocean outside back to you. The silence stretched out between you for a moment, and you could feel the weight of what’s unspoken.

“We can’t keep this up forever, you know,” he finally said, his voice quieter now, more serious.

You paused for a second, his words catching you off guard. You’d grown so used to the secrecy, to sneaking around and playing up the rivalry for the fans. It had become a game, but now, here in the warmth of his family’s sunroom, with the sea breeze gently ruffling your hair, the reality of your relationship felt different. Realer. More solid.

You sat up a little straighter, turning to face him fully. “What are you saying?”

He met your eyes, his lips curling into a small, meaningful smile. “Maybe it’s time we tell everyone. Stop pretending.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The thought of going public, of finally letting the world see what’s been building between you, sent a thrill through you. But it was also terrifying. What would people say? How would the fans react? You’ve been holding onto this secret for so long, the thought of exposing it felt almost... vulnerable.

Still, as you sat there with him, in this secluded little bubble away from the world, the idea didn't seem so scary anymore. It felt exciting. Liberating.

A slow, playful grin spread across your face. “If we’re going to do this, we have to do it in the most ridiculous, out-of-pocket way possible.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Like what?”

You leaned back against the sofa, the sunlight warming your skin as the wheels in your head begin to turn. “Something so cheesy and over-the-top that people won’t even know if we’re serious or still trolling them.”

His lips quirked into a smirk, rubbing his chin as if considering it. “What, like one of those cringey TikTok couple challenges?”

You nodded eagerly. “Exactly. The kind of stuff that makes people cringe, but they can’t look away.”

He let out a low chuckle, clearly warming up to the idea. “You mean the ones where people do those obnoxiously cute couple things, like finishing each other’s sentences?”

You grin. “Exactly. Go so hard that no one can tell if we’re serious.”

He leans forward, grabbing his phone from the coffee table. “I like it. Let’s do it.”

You blink, a little surprised at how quickly he’s jumping on board. “Wait, right now?”

He shrugs, that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “Why not? We’ve kept this quiet long enough. Let’s have some fun.”

Your pulse quickened with a mixture of excitement and nerves as you both adjusted your positions on the sofa, sitting up a little straighter, leaning in close to each other. His arm slid around your waist, pulling you just a little closer, and you could feel the warmth of his body against yours. The soft hum of the waves and the distant calls of seagulls faded into the background as the moment intensified.

“Alright,” you said, barely keeping a straight face, “let’s do this.”

He raised his phone, the camera pointed at both of you, and the screen lights up, casting a soft glow on your faces. “First question,” you began, doing your best over-the-top rom-com voice. “Who said ‘I love you’ first?”

He smirked, nudging you playfully. “Easy. You did.”

You gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your heart. “I did not! That was totally you.”

The playful banter flowed easily, the chemistry between you undeniable. The air between you crackled with tension, but the laughter kept things light. Each question grows sillier than the last, your teasing jabs masking the real emotions simmering beneath the surface.

As the game continued, the joking faded. The answers become more meaningful, more intimate. He reached out and takes your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, and the teasing spark in his eyes shifted into something softer.

Then, as if the playful mood couldn’t hold any longer, he lowered his phone and set it down on the coffee table, turning to face you fully. His gaze was intense, his eyes locking with yours in the fading sunlight. “Maybe we should stop messing around and just... tell them.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “For real?”

He nodded, his voice a little quieter, a little rougher. “Yeah. I’m tired of hiding. I want people to know.”

You hesitated for a second, the weight of the official decision settling in. But then, a surge of boldness rose within you. “Okay. Let’s do it. But first—” You held up your phone, turning off notifications before tossing it onto the sofa. “I don’t want to deal with the chaos immediately.”

He chuckled, grabbing his phone, posting the video and then,following your lead and shutting off his phone. “Smart. We’ll get spammed for sure.”

Once the phones were off and forgotten, you exchanged a glance, and then both of you dissolved into laughter, the weight of secrecy lifting off your shoulders. The relief, the excitement—it was overwhelming in the best way.

As the laughter died down, the air between you shifted slightly, becoming heavier, charged with something far more intense than before. His eyes darkened as they traced the curve of your lips, and your breath hitches, feeling the pull between you like a magnetic force. Neither of you speak for a long moment, the silence thick with unspoken desire.

Without warning, he leaned in, his hand sliding up to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing tenderly along your cheek. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, and your heart pounded in your chest, anticipation crackling in the air around you. He was so close now that you could feel the heat radiating off his skin, the scent of his cologne mixing with the salty sea air.

Your pulse quickened as his gaze locked with yours, and for a second, time seemed to stop. Then, he closed the gap, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, yet filled with an undeniable hunger. His lips were soft but firm, moving against yours with a heat that left you breathless.

You responded immediately, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him closer, needing more. His kiss deepened, and the intensity built. The taste of him is intoxicating, like you had both been waiting for this moment for far too long. His other hand snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, and you could feel the strength of his body against yours.

The kiss grew more urgent, your bodies pressed together as if the space between you was unbearable. His fingers threaded through your hair, holding you in place as he kissed you harder, deeper, like he couldn't get enough. You lost yourself in the sensation—the way his lips devoured yours, the heat of his breath mingling with yours, the low, barely audible groan that escaped from deep in his chest.

As you kissed him back with equal fervor, your entire body tingled, your senses overwhelmed by him—the way his hands gripped your waist, the way his lips tease and explore yours.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, both of you were panting, your hearts racing in sync. His eyes, dark and full of desire, met yours, and a slow, satisfied smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Guess I can do that more often now,” he murmured, his voice husky and low.

You smiled back, your lips still tingling from the kiss. “With my brother in that same paddock? Not a chance?”

francolapinto and ynpiastri

liked by logansargeant, schecoperez, oscarpiastri and 984,348 others

it wasn't a joke btw

*limited comments only*

williamsracing: franco...

oscarpiastri: that's my sister pal

francolaptino: oops?

logansargeant: this hurt more than my replacement

ynpiastri: shut up?

logansargeant: yes ma'am

the end.

taglist: @iimplicitt @isaadore @iamred-iamyellow @justheretoreadthxxs @obxstiles @how-what-why-huh @raizelchrysanderoctavius @sainzzreputaticn @xxx-betty @dukeofjjune @dejavuontrack @littlegrapejuice @mxdi0 @st4rgirl-ellie @dullypully @cinderellawithashoe

[motorsportbarbie13]

What's A Soulmate? - Part 1

In which something magical begins.

Warnings: none, just a bit of mutual pining. but this will be an angsty one i think. Pairing: Lando Norris X SainzSister!Reader Words: 2.6k

Master List

(a/n: new series alert! friends to lovers featuring lando norris. this one will be several parts spanning from 2019 to present day. I've tried my hardest to make sure the timeline/race results are accurate but I may have adjusted something to make it work a bit better for the story line. this is a total work of fiction, purely for entertainment.)

February 2019 

Woking, Surry, England

“This is not going to be a year of partying and laziness, Chiquita.” Carlos throws you a sidelong glance as he pulls his new McLaren into a parking spot early one February morning. “You are here with me to work, not spend your gap year playing.” 

“If I’m here to work, then you can’t me ‘little girl’ while we’re here, Carlos.” You bite back, hauling your tote bag from the floor of the low slung sports car. 

Carlos chuckles, throwing his arm around your shoulder as you both begin the walk into his new workplace: the McLaren Technology Center. “Fair enough, Chiquita.” 

Last spring, you had graduated from high school and had spent one miserable semester at the University of Madrid in the fall before dropping out just a few months ago. 

Carlos dodges the swat that you aim at his bicep, taking a few quick steps ahead of you as you approach the front door of the large white building. The sprawling MTC is an intimidating building and you knew that if you hadn’t been here with Carlos, there was no way you’d be able to find your way. 

After spending a few listless months bouncing from Carlos’ couch in Monaco back to your parent’s estate in Spain, they had laid down the law. You needed to figure out what you were going to do for the foreseeable future if going back to University wasn’t in the cards for you at the moment. They were fine with you not going back to uni right away, in fact, they encouraged you to take a gap year but they expected you to do something productive with your life while you figured out what you wanted to do. 

And that had been when your older brother had entered the chat. He had finished third year as a Formula 1 driver a few months ago and would be changing teams come the new season in March. In December, he had parted ways with his long time assistant, who wanted to spend more time with her new husband and less time traveling. Carlos and you had always been the closest of the four Sainz siblings despite the six year age gap (his 25 years to your 19) so it had been the most natural thing in the world to have you be his assistant and social media manager for the 2019 F1 season. 

Up until today, Carlos had been attending pre-season meetings and putting time in at McLaren’s sim setup by himself but you had arrived at his flat five minutes from the MTC yesterday, suitcases in hand, ready to get started as your brother’s assistant. It had been ages since the two of you had spent this much time together and while you were mostly excited to spend the year traveling and reconnecting with your big brother, there was a bit of trepidation and anxiety sitting in your chest as you walked through those sliding glass doors this morning. 

You were barely 19 after all, little real world experience and you knew absolutely no one in this entire country beyond your brother. All of your friends were attending university in other countries, far away from the world you now found yourself in. Yes, you were excited but you were also insanely nervous. 

Carlos leads you down a long hallway, lined with trophy cases filled with motorsport winners trophies on one side and sleek F1 cars on the other. It was an entire shrine to McLaren history, of which there was a lot, and you were in awe as you followed after your brother. “Where are we going?” You ask as he turns down another quiet hallway, convinced you’d be utterly lost if Carlos asked you to show him how to get back to the front doors. 

“I have a little office tucked away back here next to Lando’s, I wanted to get you set up with the laptop and sync my calendar so you could get yourself ready.” 

You nod, ears perking up at the mention of your brother’s new teammate, Lando Norris. You knew a little about him from a few causal Google searches. He was 19 like you and this was his rookie season in Formula 1. From everything you read, he was a karting prodigy that had been signed by McLaren for a while and had been tapped to drive opposite of Carlos this year. Just knowing that there would be someone around the offices and on the road that was your age made the tight anxiety that sat in your chest ease just a touch, even if you two didn’t end up being more than acquaintances this year. 

Carlos hadn’t been lying about his ‘little’ office. It was barely more than a broom closet if you were being honest. Just enough room for a desk, a pair of chairs, and a bookshelf, but there was a large window that faced south so at least there’d always be sun spilling into the small space making it feel a little airier. 

You pull your MacBook out of the Dior tote Carlos had gotten you for your birthday last year as Carlos chatters away about schedules, press duties, and what he expected out of you. You listened carefully, taking notes in a little spiral bound notebook as you waited for your laptop to boot up. 

“Are you in here talking to yourself again, Carlitos?” 

Your head snaps up at the sound of an unfamiliar voice and you find yourself smiling at the boy standing in the doorway. He’s a few inches taller than you, with short brown hair, and bright green eyes surrounded by thick black eyelashes. The deep tan of his skin surprises you a bit, considering its February in England and you hadn’t seen the sun since you left Spain yesterday. 

The boy’s face instantly sobers when he sees that your brother isn’t alone. “Oh, I’m sorry.” He blushes, hand coming to cup the back of his neck. “I didn’t realize you had a guest.” 

Carlos laughs, “This isn’t a guest. This is my sister, the one I was telling you about Friday. She’s going to be my assistant this year.” 

“Of course, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Lando.” 

You stand, crossing the small office in just 2 quick strides to shake Lando’s outstretched hand, “Nice to meet you too, Lando.” You say, polite smile playing on your lips. 

Lando turned around then, not wanting to intrude on the sibling time but also needing a moment to collect himself. He had known that you would be spending the season with your bother and that you two were around the same age but what he hadn’t prepared himself for was for how pretty you were. Your hair was even darker than your brother’s and it tumbled over your shoulders in layered waves that shined in a way that made Lando’s mouth go a little dry. Those dark eyes, round and doe eyed, threatened to swallow Lando whole and he’d barely spent more than a handful of seconds in your orbit.

He leaned against the door frame leading into his office, the sound of your laughter drifting through the walls. He had been used to the constant travel that was required of drivers of his caliber, having spent most of his teenage years on the road but all that time, he always had someone with him. His father, mother, manager. Someone that was ‘in charge’ of him and his schedule.

Now though? Now everything is different. He’s of age, a driver in the pinnacle league of his chosen sport, and totally alone. His friends are either jealous of his success or away at school and Lando often finds himself spending the entire weekend alone in his little flat down the road from the MTC. He was happy, of course, ecstatic that he had been given this chance by McLaren but the truth of the matter was, Lando Norris was quite lonely. 

As the image of your face flickered through his mind, Lando felt the tight grip of anxiety ease just a little bit. There was something so open about the way you had greeted him, something about how easy your laugh seemed to come, that told Lando that you were a good person, someone that would somehow be very important to him this year. 

“That is your teammates sister, mate.” Lando mutters to himself as he pushes off the door frame, making a beeline for the sim rig that was on the other side of the MTC, hoping that the time spent focused on racing would be enough to get your image out of his brain. 

April 2019 

Baku City Circuit 

“Lando, I swear to God if you’ve slept in again I’m ordering fish whenever I eat with you for the rest of my life.” 

Somewhere between Australia and China, you had morphed into not only Carlos’ personal assistant but also the assistant and babysitter of sorts to his stupid, idiotic, hilarious teammate. You adored the boy but most of the time he drove you to the brink of absolute madness. 

“I didn’t sleep in! My alarm didn’t go off!” Lando groans, breathless on the other end of the phone. 

“That is literally the same thing. I have one simple job here, Norris: get you and my brother to where they belong during race weekends and right now? You’re making me look like an amateur.” 

“I just got into the paddock, relax darling, no one is even remotely close to being fined by the FIA. I’ll be on the fan stage in five minutes, meet me there?” 

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you desperately try to will away the Landache, the term you’ve come up with when you get a headache caused by the Brit. “Fine.” You breathe. 

It’s your fourth race of the season and while Lando and your brother were seemingly hell bent on driving you to an early retirement, you had never been happier. Managing the busy schedule and life of now two Formula 1 drivers had come naturally to you. Engineers and mechanics in the garage were always a little in awe of your ability to keep the two drivers in line and where they needed to be when. The communications team at McLaren loved you because sometimes, you were the only one who would be able to get the Carlando, as the duo was coming to be known as, to behave. 

It was total chaos pretty much all of the time but you were thriving. You and Carlos were closer than ever, working tighter like a well oiled machine. But Lando and you? You two were the textbook definition of Partners In Crime. While you were the picture of professionalism on the track and during business hours, you were the other half of the chaos gremlin duo that terrorized half the grid. 

Right now though? Now the chaos gremlin was the perfect paddock princess that had to make sure her best friend and brother got to the right places on time. You round the corner of the back stage area, desperately searching for the mop of wavy brown hair covered by a papaya colored hat. 

“Lando!” You call, relieved when your dark eyes catch with a familiar pair light colored eyes. Today, they were an icy blue thanks to the bright desert sun of Baku. “I didn’t think I had to add ‘alarm’ to my list of race weekend duties.” You grouse, brushing at the dust on his team polo. 

Lando shakes his head, easy smile spreading across his face. “Am I late though?” 

You glare at him, “No.” You huff. 

“I would never make you look bad, pretty girl.” He winks and your stupid stomach does its traitorous little flip that it’s been doing lately. It’s disgusting. 

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Norris.” 

“And please welcome to the stage, McLaren drivers Carlos Sainz and Lando Norris!” The presenter calls from behind Lando’s shoulder, interrupting your sparring match. 

Lando gives you a wink before spinning around following your brother up the stairs of the stage. 

July, 2019

Germany 

“That was my fifth DNF this year.” The pain in Lando’s voice sends your stomach twisting. You follow behind him, hands wringing together, as he stalks down the hallway of the hotel in Germany. The race had finished up hours ago but Lando had just been released from media duties a bit ago. Carlos had been caught up in some post-race meetings so you had hitched a ride back to the hotel with Lando instead but now, as you followed his stiff frame stalk down the hall, you wondered if that had been a good idea. 

“Lando, it wasn’t your fault. Your car lost power, it’s not like you binned it into the wall or anything.” 

Reaching his room, Lando stops and pulls out the key before letting himself in. He leaves the door open though, indicating he wanted you to follow him. “I know that.” He groans, scrubbing his hands over his face. The hotel room is pretty normal where hotels are concerned, 2 queen sized beds dominate the space with a large flat screen tv on the opposite side. Lando flops down on the farthest bed, his eyes closed. 

“I’ve barely finished in the points yet this season. Haven’t had a sniffing chance at a podium. I feel like such a fucking fraud.” 

You had stopped just inside the door, wanting to give Lando some space as he had his tantrum but now, seeing how truly upset he is, you cross the carpeted floor and sit down next to your best friend. “Lan.” You coo, running your fingers through his hair, knowing how the scratches from your nails relaxes him. “Lan, it’s okay. You knew coming in, just like Carlos, that McLaren is in a bit of a rebuilding stage. This isn’t unexpected.” 

The problem with Lando is that he is utterly too hard on himself. You had clocked the fact quickly, by the time you had been landing in Australia for the first race of the season, you knew he needed to work on his confidence. 

“I know. I mean, I don’t know but I know that you know and I trust you enough to know that you know what you know is right.” 

Your head spins. “Pardon me?” 

Laughter spilling from your lips pops the bubble of tension in the room, Lando unable to keep the smile off his face either.

“You heard me.” He gripes, sitting up. “And I know -” He stops, glaring at you when you double over with laughter once again. “I know you understood me, you cheeky monkey.” 

“I’m sorry but I’m just so terrified by the fact that I did understand that whirlwind of a sentence and can’t decide how to process it.” You say, chest heaving from laughing so hard. “We’ve been spending too much time together.” 

Lando grabs the remote from your hand before turning on the movie you had both fallen asleep to last night before the race. “Are you going to be mean to me all night, or are we going to finish this movie?” 

You roll your eyes, but toe off your shoes before settling against the headboard of the bed, shoulder bumping with Lando’s as he joins you. “Pizza or sushi for dinner?” You ask, grinning because you already know the answer. 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“Love you too, Lan.” You counter, pulling out your phone to order some pizza. 

Tag List: @anilovessadbooks, @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @charlesgirl16

*as always, if you want to be added to the tag list, leave me a comment or send me a message*

[metamatar]

everytime i post anti ip shit in the context of the moral panic around large language models and image generation people seem to accuse me of being a techbro who cares about ip restricting the technological progress of these models. no. i think large transformer models were interesting architecturally, but they have classic deep learning era weaknesses in terms of reliance on huge datasets which means a computation arms race, little reliability and limited explainability. i desperately wish the hype around them dies down so people stop asking me to use a transformer model in my hyperspecialised low data, high variance work. im waiting for a paradigm shift, and transformer models are not that. they have great results! but they're boring now.

i just think intellectual property rights are horrible for the world in general. authorial rights should be limited to attribution, not control over what everyone else does with it. the endpoint of giving everyone rights to control and restrict other people's engagement with ideas is a world that ceaselessly limits autonomy – it means poisoning our computers and software with DRM shit, it means the destruction of archives, it means nasty and pervasive surveillance and an industry of lawyers debating about the intellectual provenance of work instead of a world that actually engages with work.

[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.

—————

[myberndpulch]

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