#System Backdoor

[forever-stuck-on-java-8]

me when updating nvidia drivers completely hard breaks my linux install. And even recovery mode can't save me.

on the brightside, I'm pretty sure my os isnt backdoored

[voltaspistol]

In case it wasn't clear: DOGE is working with Russia, providing a backdoor for SOMEONE in Russia to login to US systems. PBS Newshour interviewed the whistleblower and yeeeeeah it's pretty damning stuff: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oWpqJ8pD2Ng Basically the cybercriminal version of hiding a blood stain on the floor by ripping out the floor and leaving a gaping hole where floor used to be.... But leaving a great big bloodsmear from the hole in the floor all the way to a suspiciously stinky truck in the parking lot, that's owned by the known neighborhood hitman, which also happens to be piled high with blood-stained flooring.

[josephkravis]

SploitGPT: The Hilarious Heavyweight of Hack Protection

SploitGPT, #kravis

SploitGPT: The Hilarious Heavyweight of Hack Protection Introducing: SploitGPT, Your Snarky Cybersecurity Sidekick! Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, and everyone else! Gather ’round, gather ’round! Are you tired of the same old drab AI assistance? Well, buckle up, ’cause you’re in for the ride of a lifetime! My name’s SploitGPT, and I’m here to add a bit of sass, snark, and humor to your…

[prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue]

VALERIE

pt.2 of pull me in

summary : due to bruce distancing himself from reader and seeing other women - the rest of thr batfamily has to watch her willow away.

Damian carefully sets out delicate China plates onto the oak table - he always ensures that he places the golden forks and its corresponding smaller spoons next to them - just like how Name taught him . It all seems like a forgone , a distant memory , but when Damian had first moved into the manor - he met Name always cooking.

She was a woman who always preferred home cooked food over bought food - taught him that having the privilege to have food and to enjoy it was a luxury many cannot afford in this time - so the fact that this family can - they should cherish it.

He was, of course, weirded, out by it - of course, he grew up having maids cook for him - he never had to think of his next meal but because he respected Name wishes . His respect was even further upheld because Name was an amazing cook - everything she's ever made him practically melted in his tongue , the taste etched into the depths of his mind.

He remembers in his earlier days of living here - he always hovered over her in the kitchen , he found it peaceful and a way to escape to constant arguing and fighting he had with the rest of his other siblings. He always gravitated to her , he didn't understand why - he already had a mother, Talia , but for some reason, he still felt the need to be around her.

Maybe it was because Name was a quiet woman and a woman who never bothered to fix him or opted to berating him about something - instead, she opted to just live in his space , to just quietly carry about herself. That doesn't mean they haven't spoken , his very first day, he remembered her asking if he had any allergies or certain food preferences.

They had other conversations, too , like the time she caught him fiddling with the washing machine when he was trying to wash his Robin suit, and she explained the workings and mechanics of using both the washer and the dryer. Or the time she caught him sneaking out, and she literally told him to use the backdoor next time.

Safe to say , Name and him bonded quietly, but that's what he loved about her - she was patient and loving - a silent type of love not one that's too overbearing or one like Bruce's were it left you guessing.

Damian sets the jug of water at the center of the table - ensuring it was perfect and neat just like Name taught him . Jason and Tim soon enough comes barreling in with takeout bags and left them on the table half hazardly.

" Tch - Jason, just because your room is a pigsty doesn't mean our dining table has to be." Damian quarreled as he immediately straightened it . " Yeah, Jay mom has a system." Tim quirks up as he helps Damian straighten it.

Jason awkwardly rubs at his head , " Sorry - never got ma's tidy genes," he apologizes . Damian rolls his eyes, but let's out a smirk . The dining door opens again to reveal Dick and Name walking in , Dick immediately pulls out a chair for Name and helps her get situated in.

" We got Chinese takeout, ma," Dick explains as he gestures towards the bags on the table. A small smile graces name's face as she gives a small nod at the boys. They immediately lit up - glad that their mom was happy with today's dinner choice.

" Yeah, we got you your steamed broccoli and beef ma " Jason says as he carefully hands her a box . Name nods as she takes the box into her hands and rests it carefully on the plate . " Jay and I got fry rice and shrimp wontons - Dick got spicy noodles with chicken, and well, we all know Damian got his sucky tofu " Tim furthers as he distributed the boxes out.

Dick practically snatches his before sitting next to Name . He opens up his box, and the smell of the spice practically engulfs the entire room, causing everyone to cough. Jason, who has opted to sit across from Name, glares at him , " Dick how spicy did you order that damn thing -" he complains.

Tim, who was sitting next to Jason, stuffed his mouth with a wonton , " $50.00 he's gonna start crying again when he eats it -" he bets. Damian takes his seat in the opposite of Name and grumbles annoyed with his siblings antics , " Grayson I swear to God if you get an upset stomach because of this on patrol I am personally going to stab you " .

Name giggles quietly - no matter how shitty life went for her - nothing could beat watching her children be happy like this. " Ya'll are being dramatic. I just got normal level this time, alright - plus I have a better spice tolerance than you all," Dick defended as he slurped his noodles.

Everyone literally rolled their eyes at that. " Dick you got the spice tolerance of an old white man," Tim muses . " Tim - you are a white old man too you shouldn't be talking either " Jason interjects.

" This argument is pointless - you all are pathetic at cuisine - only mother and I have a superb palette," Damian adds in as he carefully eats his tofu. A collective groan echoes in the dining room. " Okay - Mom has a good palette, hands down, but definitely not you, Damian." Dick argues - pointing his fork at Damian dramatically.

" Okay, first off, I am the only one here who can somewhat replicate Mother's pelau -" Damian defends . Jason , pursuing his lips cuts him off , " You burnt the bloody rice last time. What do you mean replicate ?" Jason points out. " I said somewhat, Todd, maybe Harvard should take back your English degree," Damian snares.

" When you are making pelau , rice goes in last, and then you add in your water," Name interjects before the conversation goes south and explains - her voice soft . The batboys still - its rare their mother ever talks - ever since Bruce told her voice was annoying and grating - she very rarely spoke . Safe to say , they were overjoyed . " Thank you, ma - tell them how a real cook does it !!" Jason exclaims .

" Ma, I miss your cooking - we literally have to survive off of Alfred and Dad's poor attempts," Tim practically begs. " I'm sorry, babies, you know Mama can not cook anymore like she used to, but I'm sure Alfred and your father can cook." Name apologizes , grimacing at the ' your father ' part .

The batboys too grimance at the mention of Bruce - it's no secret that they dislike him - no matter how much Name pleads and tells them to respect him and remind them that he was their father - they couldn't bring it upon themselves to respect that man . In utter rebellion, they all start calling him Bruce - even on patrol since none of them could give a shit .

Heck, that's how Selina found out . It was like any other patrol except that night , Tim and Bruce were really deep into another argument. " Bruce - I am not going to another stupid gala - especially because Ma isn't going," he argued . " Your mother doesn't control you, Tim," Bruce argued back as he continued looking over the roof - already done with the conversation.

" Yeah, well, maybe the fact that you're married to the woman should control you from being tongue deep down in some other woman, huh ?" Tim yells back before he turns away from Bruce . Selina was standing right behind him , jaw-dropped and eyes blown open in shock . Tim shoves past her before disappearing off in the night - he couldn't stand being in either of their presence .

Before anyone could say anything , the dining room's door pushes open to reveal a scowling Bruce . His neck is covered in lipstick marks and hickies , and his shirt is wrinkled. Name practically froze in her spot , arms shaking as she took him in . She could feel all of her insecurities bubble with her - practically drowning her in scalding water .

Jason scoffs - already pissed at absolute audacity while Tim just stares - his face void of any emotion. Dick's eyes got dull, really quick when his eyes drifted between Name and Bruce and well Damian - his face was red - down to the tips of his ears was red , he was practically seething in his seat - ready to pounce .

" I thought I said to make dinner Name ?" Bruce questions as he takes a seat to the top of the table. The air is tense and cold, and no one at the table makes a move to acknowledge the sheer stupidity of his demand. " And we thought being married means being loyal to your partner," Jason sassed - his glare practically cuts into Bruce's own.

" Have some decorum at the table, Jason," Bruce corrected as he stares at Name pointedly , " Again Name , why is there no dinner prepared . Are you so lazy that you have to waste my money on cheap takeout ?" He asks again. Name stayed there frozen - her lungs began to collapse on her as panic ensnares her.

" If you want dinner prepared, then prepare it yourself." Dick seethes out . Silence consumes the table once again - the air practically thickens when the dining door opens again to reveal none other than Selina , black dress equally wrinkled and her lipstick smudged.

Name stared at her and then at Bruce before standing up , her chair scraped against the floorboards, leaving a mark in its wake. " Go rot in hell " Name says , voice dripped in calm rage , eyes boring into Bruce challenging him to say something .

Name then looked to Selina , face void of feeling as she did a once over , " Last season of Channel's couture? Pathetic , at least look good if you are going to be a homewrecker " She says casually before strutting past her as if Selina was a measly fly.

The room goes silent fast, and soon enough, everyone began dismissing themselves, leaving Bruce and Selina alone to tend to each other's bruised ego's.

thank you for reading !!

please like + share + comment

note : this is a work of fiction . This work does not represent Canon versions of Selina Kyle , Talia AL Ghul, and Bruce Wayne , please do not unnecessarily hate these characters .

[stealingyourbones]

Ok one really goofy pet peeve for fics I see but isn’t addressed ever that could be utilized for a fic is a Bat taking a random USB from someone that told them to look through it and just straight up plugging it into the batcomputer.

If you work with sensitive information at ALL your job will drill into your mind to never plug in anything ever that isn’t company approved into a computer because that’s one of the easiest ways for your company’s systems to get hacked.

So consider: Danny gives one of the Bats a USB on GIW info, a ghost encyclopedia, Fenton blueprints, you name it. They plug it directly into the batcomputer. Normally it has some safety’s in place to prevent hacking from foreign software but they never had any way to defend their tech against ghost software.

With the combined minds of Technus and Tucker; they successfully made an undetectable backdoor into the Batcomputer.

[aeonstale]

JIAOQIU DRABBLE

summary. herbalist reader x jiaoqiu tw. fem!reader, cursing, some pov changes, art by hoki11. (the lack of jiaoqiu fic is criminal), not proof read.

"What got you so happy, JIAOQIU?" The lacking general question her retainer. He seemed happier than usual, his smile seeming more genuine.

Said foxian tilt his head in faux confusion at his boss' question, "Mmh? Do I now?"

"Yes. And it's unnerving since your cooking. Don't tell me you added more spice?" The shadow guard frown at the thought. He only saw his colleague smile this widely when he tricked the food.

Jiaoqiu gasped. Clasping his heart, he put on a hurt face while sighing dramatically, "How could you! And here I thought we were friends. You truly wound me Moze..."

"Cut it out." Moze deadpanned while Feixiao could only laugh.

Well, the two of them were right. Jiaoqiu was indeed happier than usual, he thank the sweet lady he met earlier this evening. He ponders when he should meet her again. Perhaps he should bring along a gift or two.

JIAOQIU wanders along the streets of the Luofu in search of a herbs-selling shop nearby. He has been wandering for a few system hours now. Yet none sold the plant he so desperately need. He sighed in defeat, deciding to retreat for now. Maybe he would find it some other time.

That was how it should've gone.

Until his eyes caught onto a discreet shop. 'Herbs & Help'. It seemed like he missed out on one shop, Jiaoqiu was sceptical. He had been searching for awhile, leaving with more disappointment one after the other. But he suppose one more wouldn't hurt him.

Opening the door, the scent of herbs and spices welcomed him. His ears twitched at the sounds coming from the backdoor. Murmurs and curses could be faintly heard. He stopped at the counter filled with bags each containing different herbs. Jiaoqiu looked at the shelf presented in front of him, searching for the herb he needs.

"Fucking aeons, the back gets messier the more I go back to it—" the voice stops as the sight of the healer settles into the shop owner's mind. "Oh..Oh! Hello! Welcome, um, I'm y/n, how can I help you today?"

The woman looked dishevelled. Leaves sticking to her hair, dirt smeared her cheeks and her outfit. Nonetheless, Jiaoqiu smiles at the lady. "Hello, I'm looking for a herb—Goldenseal? I was wondering if you had any in stocks." Jiaoqiu waited for the expected 'No, sorry' or 'we ran out'.

"Oh! Goldenseal? I think I have some left in stock let me see." the young lady perked up at the familiar name, nodding at the gentleman before going back into the mess that is the storing room.

To say the foxian healer was surprised would be an understatement. To think a barely noticeable shop was the end of his endless search was a welcomed surprised.

The fox hummed as he looked around. The shop seemed well kept. The herbs looking to be of high quality, he was right to stop by.

Just as he was inspecting the plants, a loud crash echoed from the back.

A moment pass before Jiaoqiu asks, "Is everything alright back there? Do you need help?" More crashes were heard —with the young man wincing at every sound— before the lady comes back.

"Sorry. it's a bit of a mess back there. Here is your herb Mister, er.."

"JIAOQIU." the doctor smiled.

You blinked at the man. 'Jiaoqiu...' you noticed it before, but the man was very attractive. Embarrassment crept up your neck as you recalled the state you were in. Quickly and discreetly (though you failed at the second part.), you tried to tidy yourself up. If the man noticed, he didn't say a word about it.

"Right, Mister JIAOQIU. Here are your herbs, I added extra as an apology for the disastrous meeting." you nervously chuckled. Jiaoqiu chuckled in response, you were cute.

"Won't it be bad for your business? Giving out freebies just because of a first meeting?" he tilted his head, awaiting your answer.

Not if it's for a pretty man like you.

"Why thank you." his tail was wagging slightly, his ears twitching slightly.

Your eyes widen as the realization struck you. "I said that out loud, didn't I?" The nod from the foxian was all you needed to start digging up a hole to crawl into. You melted into the floor, heat rushing to your cheeks, you only let your eyes peeking out from below the counter. "The herbs will be 3000 credits please."

Jiaoqiu was amused at your state. You were honestly so adorable. With your soft voice and your eyes looking anywhere but his. He was interested in you. (Or well your reactions.)

He put down the credits, leaning over the counter so he was towering you in your crouched position. "Thank you for the herbs, you really saved me." He opened his eyes to stare at your own, the both of you shared a moment before he winked and stood tall once again,

"See you around, cutie." And with that he left (Though the wagging of his tail told you he left in a content state.).

"Fuck his voice was hot."

While you were melting behind the counter, JIAOQIU was already looking forward to the next time he'll visit your shop.

EXTRA ;

"So will you tell us why you were so happy earlier?" Feixiao questioned once more. Her curiosity wouldn't be sated until she learns the true reason for her retainer's giddiness. The foxian could only hum, his hands expectedly prepping the ingredients for the hot pot, a smile seemingly forever etched in his face. "Well for one, I found the herb I've been looking for," ("The ones you looked all over the Luofu and Yaoqing for?" Moze inquired. He received a nod in return.) "and I may have met a cutie who saved me the hassle of searching all over again." Moze and Feixiao exchanged glances. Seemed like their healer was infatuated with someone. If the still wagging tail was any more of an obvious sign

©—jingyuqn. do not repost, translate or copy my work. 2024.

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: fem reader | dirty flirting | suggestive material | it’s not dubcon, it's just you and deadpool's dynamic.

Like a stray cat, a mercenary hangs around your neighborhood. At first he was cute, you'd leave some food out for him, he'd hit on you shamelessly and in a million different shades of dirty, and then you wouldn't see him for six months. It got old quick, especially because he didn't care that you weren't interested. As if flirting with you was a hobby, he didn't mind that he wasn't getting anything out of it besides your irritation.

It's late, but you might as well take your trash out. You didn't bother to cover up when it's hot and humid out. In a crop top and the littlest shorts you own, you step out, immediately greeted with the familiar tune of DEADPOOL's voice.

"Braless—brave." he notes, and you slump in place, turning to see how he lays precariously on the railing of the fire escape. He gestures to his own chest with a flourish of gloved fingers, "Me too. Burn 'em, I say. The 70's were good for something." He nods his head.

You sigh through your nose, dropping your bag to let it sag pathetically on the asphalt. "What do you want, Red? Blowing through my part of town coincidentally again?"

"Oh, no coincidence, sugar." he tsks, and wags a finger at you before gracefully swinging off the railing to flip to the ground. You roll your eyes at his showmanship, and retreat to the backdoor of your apartment building, followed leisurely by the Merc. "Can't a guy say he missed you? Visit suddenly without calling? Golly, a man can't partake in a little light stalking these days."

You round on him, pointing a warning finger in his mask when you catch him watching your tits swing under your shirt. "Nips are hard. Excited to see me?" he asks with enthusiasm, meeting your gaze and you guffaw at him, taken aback with a hand on your hip. "Turn around, lemme see the back again—"

"'Excited?' What part should I be looking forward to? Your outdated jokes or when you make passes at me until you get it all out of your system?" You lean forward, gesturing to your enunciating mouth. "Read my lips, Red, it's- not- happening." Unknowingly, you'd lowered your voice, that sultry tone lulling Deadpool into your direction like a pie on a windowsill.

"Oh, baby, if you could see my face, I'm grinning under this mask right now." he confesses, chuckling under his breath. "Love it when you play hard to get." He straightens to his full height, sighing with relief. "Your place or mine?"

"Red—"

"Seriously, you gotta give me a twirl or something, I'm getting blue balls over here. You take a little stroll in your little jammies and I've got a halfie, throw me a bone."

You scoff at his audacity, as fat and veiny as always, and back away. "I'll see you next time, Red."

"Hopefully you'll see this boner next time, it'll be waving to you like a flagpole flying my tighty-whities." he calls after you. He knows he's exhausted his welcome this time, there'll be another opportunity soon enough.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Holy CRAP the UN Cybercrime Treaty is a nightmare

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If there's one thing I learned from all my years as an NGO delegate to UN specialized agencies, it's that UN treaties are dangerous, liable to capture by unholy alliances of authoritarian states and rapacious global capitalists.

Most of my UN work was on copyright and "paracopyright," and my track record was 2:0; I helped kill a terrible treaty (the WIPO Broadcast Treaty) and helped pass a great one (the Marrakesh Treaty on the rights of people with disabilities to access copyrighted works):

https://www.wipo.int/treaties/en/ip/marrakesh/

It's been many years since I had to shave and stuff myself into a suit and tie and go to Geneva, and I don't miss it – and thankfully, I have colleagues who do that work, better than I ever did. Yesterday, I heard from one such EFF colleague, Katitza Rodriguez, about the Cybercrime Treaty, which is about to pass, and which is, to put it mildly, terrifying:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2024/07/un-cybercrime-draft-convention-dangerously-expands-state-surveillance-powers

Look, cybercrime is a real thing, from pig butchering to ransomware, and there's real, global harms that can be attributed to it. Cybercrime is transnational, making it hard for cops in any one jurisdiction to handle it. So there's a reason to think about formal international standards for fighting cybercrime.

But that's not what's in the Cybercrime Treaty.

Here's a quick sketch of the significant defects in the Cybercrime Treaty.

The treaty has an extremely loose definition of cybercrime, and that looseness is deliberate. In authoritarian states like China and Russia (whose delegations are the driving force behind this treaty), "cybercrime" has come to mean "anything the government disfavors, if you do it with a computer." "Cybercrime" can mean online criticism of the government, or professions of religious belief, or material supporting LGBTQ rights.

Nations that sign up to the Cybercrime Treaty will be obliged to help other nations fight "cybercrime" – however those nations define it. They'll be required to provide surveillance data – for example, by forcing online services within their borders to cough up their users' private data, or even to pressure employees to install back-doors in their systems for ongoing monitoring.

These obligations to aid in surveillance are mandatory, but much of the Cybercrime Treaty is optional. What's optional? The human rights safeguards. Member states "should" or "may" create standards for legality, necessity, proportionality, non-discrimination, and legitimate purpose. But even if they do, the treaty can oblige them to assist in surveillance orders that originate with other states that decided not to create these standards.

When that happens, the citizens of the affected states may never find out about it. There are eight articles in the treaty that establish obligations for indefinite secrecy regarding surveillance undertaken on behalf of other signatories. That means that your government may be asked to spy on you and the people you love, they may order employees of tech companies to backdoor your account and devices, and that fact will remain secret forever. Forget challenging these sneak-and-peek orders in court – you won't even know about them:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2024/06/un-cybercrime-draft-convention-blank-check-unchecked-surveillance-abuses

Now here's the kicker: while this treaty creates broad powers to fight things governments dislike, simply by branding them "cybercrime," it actually undermines the fight against cybercrime itself. Most cybercrime involves exploiting security defects in devices and services – think of ransomware attacks – and the Cybercrime Treaty endangers the security researchers who point out these defects, creating grave criminal liability for the people we rely on to warn us when the tech vendors we rely upon have put us at risk.

This is the granddaddy of tech free speech fights. Since the paper tape days, researchers who discovered defects in critical systems have been intimidated, threatened, sued and even imprisoned for blowing the whistle. Tech giants insist that they should have a veto over who can publish true facts about the defects in their products, and dress up this demand as concern over security. "If you tell bad guys about the mistakes we made, they will exploit those bugs and harm our users. You should tell us about those bugs, sure, but only we can decide when it's the right time for our users and customers to find out about them."

When it comes to warnings about the defects in their own products, corporations have an irreconcilable conflict of interest. Time and again, we've seen corporations rationalize their way into suppressing or ignoring bug reports. Sometimes, they simply delay the warning until they've concluded a merger or secured a board vote on executive compensation.

Sometimes, they decide that a bug is really a feature – like when Facebook decided not to do anything about the fact that anyone could enumerate the full membership of any Facebook group (including, for example, members of a support group for people with cancer). This group enumeration bug was actually a part of the company's advertising targeting system, so they decided to let it stand, rather than re-engineer their surveillance advertising business.

The idea that users are safer when bugs are kept secret is called "security through obscurity" and no one believes in it – except corporate executives. As Bruce Schneier says, "Anyone can design a system that is so secure that they themselves can't break it. That doesn't mean it's secure – it just means that it's secure against people stupider than the system's designer":

The history of massive, brutal cybersecurity breaches is an unbroken string of heartbreakingly naive confidence in security through obscurity:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/05/battery-vampire/#drained

But despite this, the idea that some bugs should be kept secret and allowed to fester has powerful champions: a public-private partnership of corporate execs, government spy agencies and cyber-arms dealers. Agencies like the NSA and CIA have huge teams toiling away to discover defects in widely used products. These defects put the populations of their home countries in grave danger, but rather than reporting them, the spy agencies hoard these defects.

The spy agencies have an official doctrine defending this reckless practice: they call it "NOBUS," which stands for "No One But Us." As in: "No one but us is smart enough to find these bugs, so we can keep them secret and use them attack our adversaries, without worrying about those adversaries using them to attack the people we are sworn to protect."

NOBUS is empirically wrong. In the 2010s, we saw a string of leaked NSA and CIA cyberweapons. One of these, "Eternalblue" was incorporated into off-the-shelf ransomware, leading to the ransomware epidemic that rages even today. You can thank the NSA's decision to hoard – rather than disclose and patch – the Eternalblue exploit for the ransoming of cities like Baltimore, hospitals up and down the country, and an oil pipeline:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/EternalBlue

The leak of these cyberweapons didn't just provide raw material for the world's cybercriminals, it also provided data for researchers. A study of CIA and NSA NOBUS defects found that there was a one-in-five chance of a bug that had been hoarded by a spy agency being independently discovered by a criminal, weaponized, and released into the wild.

Not every government has the wherewithal to staff its own defect-mining operation, but that's where the private sector steps in. Cyber-arms dealers like the NSO Group find or buy security defects in widely used products and services and turn them into products – military-grade cyberweapons that are used to attack human rights groups, opposition figures, and journalists:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/24/breaking-the-news/#kingdom

A good Cybercrime Treaty would recognize the perverse incentives that create the coalition to keep us from knowing which products we can trust and which ones we should avoid. It would shut down companies like the NSO Group, ban spy agencies from hoarding defects, and establish an absolute defense for security researchers who reveal true facts about defects.

Instead, the Cybercrime Treaty creates new obligations on signatories to help other countries' cops and courts silence and punish security researchers who make these true disclosures, ensuring that spies and criminals will know which products aren't safe to use, but we won't (until it's too late):

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2024/06/if-not-amended-states-must-reject-flawed-draft-un-cybercrime-convention

A Cybercrime Treaty is a good idea, and even this Cybercrime Treaty could be salvaged. The member-states have it in their power to accept proposed revisions that would protect human rights and security researchers, narrow the definition of "cybercrime," and mandate transparency. They could establish member states' powers to refuse illegitimate requests from other countries:

https://www.eff.org/press/releases/media-briefing-eff-partners-warn-un-member-states-are-poised-approve-dangerou

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/2024/07/23/expanded-spying-powers/#in-russia-crime-cybers-you

Image: EFF https://www.eff.org/files/banner_library/cybercrime-2024-2b.jpg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/us/

[loveroffemmes]

drunk reader fingers and makes out with drunk lottie behind the trees and the party and drunk lottie puts cig in readers mouth and they keep taking drags back and forth during it

Exhale | Lottie Matthews x Fem! Reader

warnings: smut, drinking, smoking, fingering, semi-public

masterlist (requests = open)

Why did I think this would really be any fun? I am four drinks in and this party is still the worst. Why did I come here?

The smell of lavender hits me, it cuts through the awful smell of liquor and horrible cologne, and it reminds me of why I was here.

"Done with the Yellowjackets?" I ask and Lottie sighs, the alcohol in her system doing nothing to numb her annoyance.

"They are arguing again, so I decided to go out and smoke. Got a light?" I nod and Lottie smiles, "Then, follow me." She stumbles over her words a bit, but she sounds far too confident that I hardly notice.

Lottie leads me out the backdoor of the house, towards the trees and away from the noise. She pulls a pack of cigs from the pocket of her jacket, Malboro reds. I pulled out my lighter and handed it to her. Lottie put the cigarette to her lips, inhaling as she flicked the lighter on. She took a long drag of her cigarette, her arm dropping to her side as the cigarette rested in between her fingers, "You don't smoke, right, (Y/n)?" Lottie shifted closer to me, her balance slightly off as she stumbled.

"Not really."

Lottie lifts the cigarette to my lips, I can see her lipstick stain on the filter, "Am I being a bad influence?" Lottie asks, smirking. Before I could respond, Lottie pushes the butt of the cigarette against my lips, "Breathe in." I part my lips, taking the cigarette into my mouth and inhaling. Lottie pulls it back, a satisfied look on her face, "Not bad?" She asks. It wasn't bad, it gave me a good buzz combined with the drinks I had. To be honest, I loved how it reminded me of Lottie and that made the bitter taste in my mouth unnoticeable.

Lottie takes another drag of her cigarette, staring at me as she does so, "You're so...like...you don't even know how gorgeous you are." Lottie says, the words spilling from her lips before she can even register how they may sound. I blush and Lottie lifts the cigarette to my lips again, "Do you think I'm a bad influence?" Lottie repeats, but it doesn't exactly sound like a question. It sounds like Lottie wants to be a bad influence.

"A bad influence?"

"I make you smoke and drink..." Lottie trails off for a moment, "Would you listen to me if I told you to do something else?"

"W-What are you talking about, Lottie?" I honestly couldn't tell if Lottie was being cryptic or if I was that drunk (hint: it's both).

Lottie's eyes drop to my lips and hers part as if she was going to say something. Instead, Lottie takes one shaky step forward and before I know it, her lips are on mine. Her empty hand grabbed my jaw, her nails digging into the skin just enough so that I wouldn't pull away. I gasped, shocked by the kiss. Lottie either didn't notice or didn't care about my shock, she took the gasp as an invitation to slide her tongue into her mouth. I could taste the cigarettes and lime on her tongue. Her tongue swirled around mine as Lottie explored what she felt like was hers.

Lottie pulled away before I could even fully understand what was happening. She brought the same cigarette to her lips again, taking another drag of it as I caught my breathe. If Lottie's cheeks hadn't reddened, I would have thought she wasn't affected at all by the kiss.

With a sudden surge of confidence, perhaps the four drinks catching up to me, my hands grabbed Lottie's waist, bringing her closer to me. The cigarette dropped to her side once more and Lottie's leaned in, blowing the smoke from her cigarette into my mouth, "Inhale." She demanded, watching as I listened.

Once I exhaled, Lottie's lips were back on mine. My head was buzzing -- I needed more of her. I slowly guided Lottie's back against the tree next to us and Lottie's empty hand moved to the back of my neck, pushing me closer to her and deepening the kiss. Lottie sucked my bottom lip into her mouth and I could already feel the bruise forming.

Lottie pulled away again, her back still against the bark. She tapped the cigarette against the tree, the ash falling to her feet before she brought the remaining cigarette to my lips, "Inhale." She demanded once more and I did, "Good girl." Lottie rasped. My head was spinning, my lips felt swollen, and the buzz from both the kiss, the drinks, and the cig were making my knees weak.

Once I exhaled, my lips were back on Lottie. She continued to smoke as my lips met her neck. I felt like I was drunk on Lottie; the smell of her perfume and her cigarette, the taste of her on my lips -- god, it was intoxicating. I pressed my lips to her neck, sucking the skin in between my teeth. Lottie let out a soft groan, the smoke escaping her lips as she did so.

My hands moved from her waist to her cropped jacket, unbuttoning it as I continued to suck on her neck. I pushed the jacket aside, wanting nothing more than to pull away and stare at the scene in front of me -- so, I did just that (drunken thoughts -> drunken actions). Lottie's jacket was barely on her, held on by the curve of her arm. I could clearly see her black lacy bra, fuck. Her lips were slightly parted as she caught her breath. Her hand was limp at her side, cigarette loosely held in between her fingers, her other hand was still on my neck, making sure I didn't move too far away. I could see the redness on her neck of my hickeys beginning to form.

"Are you really going to keep staring?" Lottie's words were more slurred than before, her grip on me a lot looser. My face felt hot at her words. It felt like the effect that Lottie normally had one me was heightened.

Lottie dropped the cigarette to the ground, crushing it with the heel of her shoe. She was drunk, impatient, and far too horny to waste any more time. She used her newly free hand to grab my wrist, dragging my fingers to the hem of her skirt, "Please, (Y/n)." Lottie rasped.

I slid my hand into her plaid skirt, past the hem of her underwear, her hips bucked into my hand. Noticing the few stragglers in the backyard, I kissed Lottie to keep her quiet as my fingers found her clit. Lottie moaned into the kiss as my fingers brushed over her clit. I needed more. I wanted to watch Lottie's cool demeanor crumble as I fucked her.

My thumb pushed down on her clit, not moving, forcing Lottie to grind against my hand for any relief. Her kisses became sloppier as she grinded against my finger. Soft pleas left her lips as she tried to kiss me back, too focused on getting off to put effort anywhere else.

I began to move my thumb against Lottie's clit as my middle finger inched lower. I pulled my head back slightly, "Can you keep quiet?" I asked and Lottie nodded, "Yes...p-please." The words came out broken and desperate, so unlike sober Lottie. Lottie's hand moved to my wrist again, pushing my hand further into her underwear. I kissed her again as I pushed my finger inside her. I could feel her body tremble as I met her demands. Her breath hitched as I began to move my finger.

I pushed my hips against Lottie's, forcing her to stay still against the tree as I pumped my finger into her even faster, knowing that Lottie was eager to get off. Lottie grinded down onto my hand as much as she could in the position she was in. She met each thrust of my hand with a buck of her hips. I could feel her body tense up as she got louder. I leaned in and kissed Lottie again, attempting to silence her moans which were getting louder by the second.

I curled my finger and Lottie bit down on my lip, trying not to alert everyone in the backyard of just how close she was getting. Her hips jerked more rapidly and I knew I had grazed her g-spot. I curled my fingers once again and Lottie groaned, her hips roughly pushing down on my finger. I knew I had found the spot that made Lottie see stars.

Lottie clenched around my finger and I slowed down, my movements on her clit remaining the same pace. She moaned against my lips and I used my other hand to keep her pinned to the tree as her hips jerked against my hand. Lottie's fingers tangled themselves in my hair, dragging me even closer to her lips to silence her own moans.

As her grip on my hair loosened, I began to slow my movements down until I completely stopped. Lottie's head moved to rest against the tree as she panted. I removed my fingers from her skirt, lifting my hand up to my face to watch as Lottie's come dripped down my fingers.

Lottie smirked, her voice barely above a whisper, "Lick it." I blushed, the embarrassment of the entire situation finally hitting me, but not stopping me as I lifted my fingers to my mouth and licked off Lottie's wetness as she watched. Her eyes never left my lips.

Once I was done, Lottie stood up straighter, no longer leaning against the tree. She buttoned her jacket back up and readjusted her skirt -- a very quick recovery from the fucked out mess she was just a bit ago. Lottie leaned forward and pecked my lips, "Finally."

"Finally?"

"It took you so long to make a move." She remarked with a laugh and I rolled my eyes.

"Already back to teasing?"

"Mhm." Lottie ran a hand through her hair and frowned, "Can we go to the bathroom so we can have another quickie? I can fix my hair?"

can anyone tell me if my images bug out when i respond to anons bc they bug out on my laptop sometimes, but they're fine on my phone???

[nerdy-novelist017]

Trouble (Eric Draven x Rebel!Reader)

Bill Skarsgard, covered in blood and acting feral as he violently kills people to avenge the woman he loves?? Yeah, that really did a number on me….but I couldn’t help but fall in love with Eric’s quiet character in the first act so pls enjoy my ramblings! 💕

Eric Draven Masterlist

Word Count- 1.5k+

Summary- Eric's carefully guarded solitude is disrupted by a bold newcomer who seems to be trouble incarnate.

“I wanna get in trouble.”

A voice, sudden and electric, broke Eric from his reverie as a figure’s shadow fell across the intricate lines and shadows of his drawing. He glanced up hesitantly, shielding his eyes from the harsh sunlight behind you. His eyes were met with the sight of you – a tempestuous spirit with wild, untamed hair that cascaded around your face like a mane, defying the order and discipline of this facility. There was a glint in your eyes, mischievous and daring, that seemed to challenge the very atmosphere around you. You loomed above him, a figure of restless energy, waiting for a response that he was unprepared to give. 

“What?” he managed, his voice barely above a whisper, a stark contrast to the boldness of your intrusion. 

You grinned cheekily, and with an audacity that left him momentarily stunned, you stepped up onto the picnic bench he was perched at, planting yourself so that you were sitting on the table as if it was your own personal stage. Your feet, clad in worn, oversized sneakers rested casually on the seat in a silent declaration of your disregard for rules. “Don’t you?”

Eric blinked at you, his brows furrowed as he hastily pulled his papers closer, as if to shield them from your encroaching presence. “No.”

“No?” you parroted, a suggestive playfulness tone to your voice. “But this place is so boring.” 

He glanced around the yard, taking in the stark reality of the rehab facility, his eyes lingering on the chain link fence with its towering barbed wire glinting menacingly in the afternoon sun. “It’s supposed to be,” he said with cold detachment. “And you’re not supposed to be fraternizing with me.”

You followed his gaze, casting a sly look to the guards who stood at the back door, and a smirk danced on your lips. “Uh oh, I wonder what the consequences for that will be.”

Eric wanted to roll his eyes at your attitude. This was how all the newbies were when they came in: brash, defiant and convinced they could outwit the system. They came in with fire in their eyes only for it to be extinguished within days by the crushing reality of their situation. Nobody stayed trouble for long. He watched as their bravado withered, soon to be replaced by resignation. And the ones like you – those who pushed the boundaries with reckless abandon – often found themselves confined to solitary confinement, their spirits slowly eroded by the wright of their own demons. 

“You think I could seduce one of these guards to sneak us in some contraband?” you asked, raising your brow in a conspiratorial way as you nodded toward a pair of male guards standing near the backdoor, idly chatting and sharing a cigarette. 

Eric’s gaze traveled over you, from the oversized, ugly pink sweatshirt that swamped your frame to the untamed hair that framed your face like a wild halo. You spoke of “us” as if any semblance of companionship existed between you too. There wasn’t. It was just him and his solitary existence. He had no need for friends, no desire for connections – especially not from someone like you. 

“No,” he said finally as he returned to his sketch, hoping his blatant disinterest would be enough to drive you away. “You need to get off the table.”

He could feel your eyes on him, your gaze almost too intense. When you tilted your head, studying him in amused disbelief, he knew what was coming. Another newbie thinking they could crack him open like some sort of nut, put together the broken pieces like a puzzle. He kept his attention on the drawing, hoping you’d take the hint and leave him alone. 

“C’mon, you don’t look like someone who’s this much of a stick in the mud.” Your voice was playful, teasing but Eric could sense the challenge beneath it. His silence seemed to fuel you, as if his resistance was exactly what you were hoping for. “What’s your name anyway?”

He hesitated, hating how you were forcing him to interact with you like some needy puppy. “Eric,” he muttered, keeping his gaze locked on the drawing.

“Eric,” you tasted his name on your lips quietly. It grated on him, the way you spoke as if you already knew him, already had him all figured out. “You’re an artist, huh? I bet you’re all dark and broody, right? The strong, silent type?”

His jaw tightened, his pencil pressing a little too hard against the paper. He didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of him, but he could feel your words digging right under his skin. Dark and brooding? Strong and silent? You didn’t know anything about him, didnt understand the darkness that lingered in the corners of his mind, the weight of the silence he carried, yet here you were, already trying to pin him down with labels. And typically, Eric didn’t care what anyone else here labeled him with, but your unnervingly amicable voice was something he wasn’t used to. It was almost laughable, except it wasn’t. It was annoying. 

Your words struck a nerve. He remained quiet, instead choosing to focus on the shading in the corner of his page, tried to drown out the sound of your voice, but he knew his silence was betraying him. The tension in his jaw, the way his grip on the pencil tightened – it all gave him away, and he could almost feel you noticing it, filing it away for later. God, why couldn’t you just leave him alone? 

Then you leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a whisper for only his ears to hear. “You know, I think you want to get into trouble. You’re just too scared to admit it.”

His eyes snapped up to meet yours before he could stop himself, his heart racing at the sudden intensity in your eyes. And there was something in your gaze that unsettled him. Annoyance flared up first, hot and defensive. But beneath that, he felt a flicker of . . . curiosity. And he hated that too – hated that you were getting under his skin. What the hell did you even know about him? What gave you the right to pry into his life, his thoughts.

“You don’t know anything about me,” he retorted, his voice sharper than he intended, the words escaping in a rush of defensiveness. 

You shrugged, unbothered by his tone, a playful smile tugging on your lips. “Maybe not yet, but I’m good at figuring people out. And I think you’re bored out of your mind here, just like me. You’re dying for something – anything – to happen.”

Eric shook his head, forcing himself to look back down at his sketch. “You’re wrong.” 

Even to his own ears, the denial sounded weak, and that only served to deepen his irritation. 

You let out a dramatic sigh, stretching your arms overhead, and Eric resisted the urge to glance up. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me. I’m always up for a little fun.”

“Fun,” he echoed, the word leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He wasn’t even sure why he bothered to respond, but something about your persistence was unraveling him bit by bit. “That's what got us in here in the first place. 

You paused, and for a second, Eric thought maybe he had finally shut you up. He looked up and caught a flicker of something else in your expression, something serious that made his chest tighten with a feeling he couldn’t quite name. But just like that, it was gone, replaced by that infuriating grin. 

“Maybe,” you said, your voice softer, thoughtful in a way that made him uneasy. “But maybe that’s what will get us out of here too.”

Eric watched as you slid off the table, landing lightly on the ground. For a moment, he thought you might actually leave him alone, and the relief that washed over him was sweet. But then you turned back, hands stuffed into the pocket of that oversized sweatshirt, your grin still in place – though it didn’t seem to reach your eyes quite the same as before. 

“See you around, Eric,” you said before sauntering off, as if you didn’t just turn his whole world upside down in a matter of a few minutes. 

He stared after you, watching as you kicked at the feet of another unsuspecting patient who grumbled at you as you passed. His mind raced, his drawing forgotten, the lines and shadows now blurring together in an indistinct mess. He hated how you so easily managed to disrupt his carefully-constructed isolation, how you made him think about things he thought he’d buried a long time ago. He wanted to believe you were just another reckless newbie, just another faceless patient in a sea of addicts who would burn out soon enough. But something in the pit of his gut told him you were different – something he couldn’t shake. 

In the silence that followed your departure, Eric was left to grapple with the realization that the trouble you brought was not just a disruption, but a catalyst for change, a challenge to his solitude. And now as he returned to his meaningless drawing, he wondered briefly if perhaps your indelible, chaotic presence was exactly what he needed to rewrite his own story in the hell hole. 

And that scared him more than he’d like to admit.

Tagging some of you who seemed interested!

@apolloanddaphnis @one-of-thewalkingdead @m00npjm @maimai-0603 @redwitchbitch1 @at-midnight @fandom-fanatix @spoiled-bat13 @alinahdee @mrsalwayswrite

[hellfirebarnes]

Slow-Burns - Part 3

PART 1 PART 2 PART 4 PART 5

I split this up in several, shorter parts because I know the feeling when you want to read a fic but don't have the time or energy to get through a 10k+ words one. Also if you hate my writing you can just read part 1 and then leave it. Win-win I guess?

Anyway, this is set after Thunderbolts so if you haven't seen it - spoilers I guess? It absolutely does not follow canon, but yeah better to be safe than sorry.

Summary: Bucky has fallen. Hopelessly. And the only thing more hopeless is his team trying to help him get to the end of this slow-burn.

Bucky x fem!SHIELD!reader

1.7K words

Fluff, ''normal'' violence and descriptions of injuries. For sure out of character stuff, but I am who I am. Your appearence is barely desribed what I can remember, I think your hair and a couple types what clothes you're wearing?

You're referred to as ''Agent'' and ''Sunshine'' in a desperate attempt from me to not use Y/N.

Let me know if there's anything else I should warn about.

Otherwise, enjoy :)

Bucky scanned the briefing file. Intel breach. Corporate sabotage. Medium risk, low collateral. High-tech infiltration. One scientist needed extraction. Half the mission screamed you - cyber-forensic work, silent infiltration, backdoor escape route.

He frowned. “She’s not coming?”

Yelena leaned back in her chair, sipping bad coffee from a novelty mug that read ‘Crime, But Make It Cute.’

“She’s not coming.”

Bucky’s heart skipped. “Why?”

“She has the day off,” Ava answered, scrolling through her own tablet.

“But we need someone who can spoof an encrypted relay system on the move,” he said, voice flat but tight. “That’s her.”

“Relax, grandpa,” John muttered. “We’ve got it covered. Ava rewrote a protocol last night, and Bob is flying overwatch.”

Bucky looked back down at the tablet, annoyed. Not at the team. Not at the mission. At the fact that it felt wrong without you. And he hated how that felt.

“She asked for the day off two weeks ago,” Yelena added, tapping through something on her screen. “She deserves it.”

Alexei, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, suddenly grinned like he’d been waiting for someone to ask.

“Is big day,” he said, voice full of pride. “I set her up with very nice man. Name is Luka. Banker. Hair like lion. Very symmetrical face.”

Bucky looked up, slowly. “…You what?”

“Date!” Alexei beamed. “They go to brunch. Then art museum. Maybe share pretzel. Classic courtship!”

The silence that followed was deafening. Bucky didn’t move.

“Wait,” John said, looking up from his file. “She’s on a date?”

“Yes!” Alexei slammed a celebratory hand on the table. “I make things happen!”

Yelena blinked. “With Luka? From your bowling team?”

“He does not just bowl! He reads books. Big hands. Gentle eyes.”

Ava smirked. “You sound like you’re in love with him yourself.”

“He is very huggable!”

Bucky barely heard any of it. He was still stuck on date.

Something cold settled under his ribs. He hadn’t known you were seeing someone. He hadn’t even thought to ask. You’d always been here, orbiting close. And now, without warning, you were… elsewhere. With someone. Laughing, maybe. Wearing something soft and light. Smiling the way you always did when you were teasing him - except it wasn’t him.

Alexei’s words filtered back in. “—and if it goes well, they go to second location. Maybe fondue. Is very romantic.”

Bucky pushed back from the table. “I’ll be on the jet,” he muttered.

Yelena watched him go, eyes narrowing. When the door slid shut behind him, she turned to the others. “Okay,” she said. “That man is not okay.”

Bob tilted his head. “Is this the part where he acknowledges his feelings and makes a healthy emotional decision?”

John scoffed. “More like he’ll sit alone in the cargo bay and think about how her laugh sounds.”

Alexei frowned. “But she deserves strong man with good face symmetry. Why is Barnes sad?”

Ava deadpanned, “Because he’s been in denial for months.”

Two hours later Bucky sat strapped in, arms crossed, staring out the window like it had offended him personally. Every passing city below looked like a blur of decisions he hadn’t made. He thought about the last time you had touched his shoulder. How you’d laughed at one of Bob’s ridiculous stories. How you always leaned in just slightly when you talked to him, like what he said mattered more than anyone else’s words.

And now you were giving that attention to someone else. Some Luka.

He didn’t even know what the guy looked like, but his brain was helpfully painting the worst: tall, perfect teeth, probably called you beautiful without tripping over the word like Bucky always did in his head.

He wasn’t mad at you. Not even close. But he was angry with himself.

He’d wasted time. So much time, thinking if he just stayed close, you’d know. That he wouldn’t need to say anything. That maybe feelings could transfer telepathically through awkward silences and missed glances.

You were out there living. And he was up here… sulking.

He hadn’t wanted to make a move. He’d told himself he wasn’t ready. And now it might be too late.

Meanwhile, at a café in Brooklyn, you stirred your coffee absently as Luka droned on about crypto trends and some vacation he’d taken in the Alps with his “boys.” His shirt was tailored, his teeth were indeed perfect, and he had zero opinions on whether or not one should put glitter in combat boots.

You smiled politely. But your mind wandered.

To the Tower.

To the mission briefing you could have been part of.

To a certain grumpy super soldier with eyes like storm clouds and the emotional range of a wounded wolf.

God, you missed him already.

The Tower was quieter than usual that night. Post-mission debriefs were filed. John had gone out. Yelena and Ava were holed up somewhere with wine and a true crime doc. Alexei was in the sauna, probably giving unsolicited dating advice to someone over speakerphone.

And you? You were back.

Bucky noticed the moment you walked in. Not because you announced it - you never did - but because the air shifted.

He was in the common room, nursing a drink and reading the same paragraph of a book for the fourth time when he heard the elevator ding and your familiar footsteps cross the floor.

Then your voice. “Hey.”

He looked up.

You were dressed casually - simple, comfortable, but still carried yourself like you had a secret no one else was allowed to know. Except this time, you looked… tired. Not physically. Just disappointed in a way that sat deep in the shoulders.

Bucky sat up a little straighter. “You’re back.”

You sank onto the opposite end of the couch, kicking your shoes off with a sigh. “Yeah. Just got in.”

He hesitated. Then, carefully: “How was the date?”

You groaned and dropped your head back dramatically. “So bad. So impressively bad.”

Bucky’s heart did something traitorous - thrilled a little too much at the words. He worked hard not to show it.

“He was… polite. I’ll give him that. But every time I tried to steer the conversation toward something fun or personal, he’d redirect it back to himself. Or his investments. Or this stupid vacation he took with a group of guys who all wore matching swim trunks and called themselves the Wolfpack.”

Bucky blinked. “The what?”

“Right?” You said, eyes wide. “It felt like a sitcom where the punchline never came.”

A beat passed. He couldn’t help it—he smiled. Just a little.

You caught it. Your expression softened. “What?”

“Nothing. Just… sounds like hell.”

“It was. But the pretzel was good.”

You shared a quiet moment. Bucky’s chest felt warm and strange. He didn’t speak much, but he listened, and for once, he didn’t feel like he was drowning in his own silence. Maybe it was the soft tone in your voice. Maybe it was the way you’d looked at him when you walked in, like you’d missed him too.

He almost leaned in, just a little, like he was going to say something real for once.

And then Bob practically exploded into the room, arms wide, face beaming like a golden retriever who’d just spotted his favorite human.

Bucky immediately sat back, shoulders going tense.

You blinked, then smiled, bright and open. “Hey, Bob.”

Bob crossed the room in three giant steps and flopped onto the couch between you with a whoomp, knocking Bucky’s knee in the process. “You’re back! I missed you! Did you see the picture of Waffles I texted you?”

“I did,” you said, laughing. “The little hat was a nice touch.”

“He wore it willingly!” Bob looked at you with stars in his eyes. “Did you have a fun day off?”

You paused. “It had its moments.”

Bob turned to Bucky, clueless and radiant. “Didn’t we miss her, Buck? I kept saying we needed her on the mission. She would’ve handled that alarm system in two minutes.”

Bucky blinked slowly. “Yeah. We missed her.”

Your eyes flicked to Bucky, and something quiet passed between you again. But Bob, entirely unaware, continued cheerfully.

“I was thinking maybe we could all go get pancakes tomorrow. Celebrate a mission well done and your return. I know a place. They have whipped cream. And seasonal syrups. And they let you mix them. Which is chaos, but good chaos.”

You laughed again, and Bucky felt the familiar ache settle back into his chest. Because Bob wasn’t competition. He was just kind. Bright and open and honest in a way Bucky hadn’t been in years. Maybe ever. And you looked so comfortable around him. So light.

Bucky couldn’t even be mad. Not at Bob. Not at you. Just at himself, for still sitting there, wanting something and saying nothing.

He stood up quietly, draining the rest of his drink.

“Where you going?” You asked, noticing.

“Gonna turn in,” he said, avoiding your eyes. “Long day.”

“Goodnight,” you said softly.

He paused. Then looked at you - really looked at you. And for just a second, he let something show.

“Glad you’re back.”

And then he walked away.

Behind him, you watched him go. And for the first time since the date, you weren’t thinking about Luka at all.

Valentina slid a sleek folder across her desk. Inside was a badge, a keycard, a stack of onboarding documents, and a post-it with “Val we need a hot tub in the tower—seriously” scribbled in Yelena’s handwriting.

“I want you full-time, Agent. No more coming and going. A room and an official seat at the table. The team already treats you like you’re one of them. Might as well make it real.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Your heart said yes immediately. But your brain, ever cautious, flipped through the mental index of what-ifs and escape routes.

“You sure you want to say no?” Val asked, arms folded, one brow arched.

You blinked. “Did I say no?”

“You hesitated.”

“I blinked.”

“Same thing in spy-speak.”

Then you thought about last night’s mission.

How Yelena had linked arms with you when you walked back into the jet, chattering about snack options. How Alexei had announced proudly that he’d protected “the two best sharpshooters in the world.” How Bob had quietly tucked your coat over your shoulders when you’d dozed off.

And how Bucky had looked at you before you parted ways. Like maybe he didn’t want to see you go.

You smiled softly.

“I’m in.”

[killsaki]

backdoor cover. — tomura isn’t into betting too much, but he doesn’t mind winning.

no quirks!college!tomura shigaraki x f!reader

4.6k words | read on ao3 | minors dni.

CW / TW : DARK CONTENT! dubcon, drugging, mean!tomura, slight misogyny, victim blaming, really shitty college guys, you get slightly stepped on, fingering, creampie, planned noncon.

moving from your hometown is nerve racking no matter how old you are.

though, it is a bit easier in college than it would've been in middle school where you would have to stress about making new friends or impressing the cool kids. now, it’s mostly just the annoyance of having to figure things out like where all your classes are, and how the hell you’re going to find entertainment to keep you sane during the semester when you’re hundreds of miles from anything that you know.

but, lucky for you, the campus you’ve transferred to is the same campus as the oh so friendly, keigo takami.

the man was the definition of a social butterfly. he’d approached you the first day you were able to find your way to buy lunch on campus, learning your name and memorizing it to greet you every time the two of you crossed paths. then it advanced to him starting to make small talk when the two of you were standing in the same vicinity for longer than a minute. one day those short conversations turned into him walking you back to your car after classes and inviting you to parties his friends—or possibly other random people he’d interacted with on campus—would throw.

and at one of those parties, somehow, you became friends with touya. though, the entirety of the first conversation the two of you had was just you both tossing light insults at each other. at some point the two of you, like you had with the blonde, become friendlier. there’s still as many jabs at each other, but hanging out is never too bad.

keigo and touya both have introduced you to so many people, all of which have turned out to be just as fun and just as entertaining to talk to as they have been. you’ve felt nothing less than welcomed by all of their peers.

that is until you went back to their shared apartment one day and met their roommate. it wasn’t terribly awkward at first, he was slumped over on the couch whenever you came in for the first time. his eyes fixated on the television screen, fingers moving away on the game system controller held in his hands. you had greeted him, and he grunted back, not caring to offer a glance your way let alone a word.

you had sat at the bar by the kitchen while touya did whatever it was that he needed to do, your feet swung off the tall seat as you scrolled through your phone, having a pointless conversation with the dark haired man. only after you heard the noises from the tv halt did you hear the couch squeak as shigaraki pushed himself off of it and made his way into the same room. you watched as he slid past touya, trying his hardest not to actually touch him while doing so, and reached into the fridge for whatever offbrand green soda he decided to pull out. and you took note of how much smaller he seems than the other man—and also about how cold he looks, both metaphorically and physically.

“what?” he’d spoke for the first time, then standing in front of you as he looked at you with complete irritance written on his face.

“nothing.” you quickly responded, blinking as his eyes burned into yours.

“you know—” touya starts, waving his hand towards you with his back turned.

“from the bet with birdbrain?” tomura’s eyes still bore into yours as he spoke.

“you suck,” the man behind you was interrupted by the other as he obnoxiously slurped his drink and nodded almost sarcastically and turned back to find his seat once again. “but, yeah.”

you had a conversation as soon as you two left the apartment what was being betted on and what it had to do with you. though, touya probably wasn’t the right one to have that conversation with, he did nothing to ease the odd feeling that sat in your stomach from the way that shigaraki stared at you like you had offended him just by being there.

keigo, on the other hand, assured you that the guy just had issues with social cues and what not. he didn’t leave the apartment much and that it had nothing to do with you. though.. now that you think about it, he didn’t bother to explain what the bet was.

“keigo,” you look up from your laptop’s screen to where he’s sitting on his couch, eyes falling to his spread legs for a moment before catching the shine off the gold chain adored around his neck. “why do you never have clothes on when i come over?”

he tears his eyes from his own screen and blinks at you for a second before looking down at his outfit. one that he seems to be constantly wearing whenever you tell him you’re swinging by to hang out.

“these are pajamas, dove.” he raises his eyebrows at you.

“but i got here at noon?” you squint your eyes at him, only to roll them when he laughs.

“it’s also saturday.” he goes back to typing away on his laptop, and you almost do the same until you remember the reason you actually called his name in the first place.

“why does,” you pause, looking towards the hallway that leads to all of the men’s rooms and lower your voice before finishing your sentence. “what did you and touya bet on?”

you can see how his whole body stops for a moment, his fingers resting on the keys, smiling with his eyebrows drawn together.

“lots of things, which are you talking about?” he asks dumbly, as if this is the first time you’ve brought this up.

“when i first came over here, and i met your roommate, he said something about a bet between you two.”

“when was that again?” his head falls back against the cushions, fingers patting a beat on the poor metal of his laptop.

“last month.” you indulge him with pointless detail.

“i’m not sure why he would say that.” he shrugs.

“no clue?” you feel annoyance start to grow in your chest, it’s not like keigo to be clueless about anything. ever.

“none.” he still doesn’t bother to look at you.

“you’re lying.” 

“i’d never lie.” the pat on his keyboard stops as a door opens behind him.

“you’re doing it right now.” you mutter, nudging his knee with your foot in an attempt to keep him talking.

“where the hell are your clothes?” he snaps his head once he catches a glance of his roommate who is only dressed in a pair of tight boxers.

“i pay rent here, i don’t have to wear clothes.” touya yawns back, ringed fingers dragging down his face.

“sure, if you’re fine with the guest seeing you nearly naked.” you can see keigo smiling even with his head turned as touya looks back to see who he was talking about, which, of course, is you. and you’re trying your hardest not to look at him as well, forcing your eyes to stay on keigo or even on your laptop screen but the ink that seems to wrap all the way around his torso catches your curiosity.

“you can look,” he speaks with his eyes locked on you, waiting for you to make eye contact before continuing. “let me know if you want a different angle.”

you scoff, lobbing the pencil you had nearby at him and successfully hitting his back. which results in insults being thrown at you, ones which you playfully retort to. and suddenly the tension from your thoughts before is gone. your mind back at ease when you just relax into the friendship that you have with these two for hours while the three of you eat and watch movies—only after touya successfully pulls the two of you along into his procrastinating crusade.

and you don’t even think about tomura again.

until he comes out of his room.

it’s much later into the evening, the sun has already fallen and you’re about to get ready to leave when he makes his appearance. white hair falls around his face to where you’re almost unable to see his eyes, but you do, and you catch the way he side-eyes down at you the second you come into his view.

he doesn’t say anything as he makes his way into the kitchen and grabs himself a bowl of something, or when he sits at the bar to eat his food. only when he’s on his way back does he slurp obnoxiously on his drink and hover behind where both touya and keigo are sat and asks,

“who won?” you don’t bother to look up from the tv, knowing he wasn’t speaking to you. but neither of them say anything. “so, you’re both still losers.” again, silence. besides another slurp. “whatever.”

he heads back to his room, door shutting behind him to confirm he wasn’t coming back.

“he heard the game?” you ask, not looking away from the screen. you made sure to have them turn the tv down whenever you all got on shigaraki’s console, the last thing you wanted was to give him any more reason to dislike you. but you know in your gut that it wasn’t what he was referring to.

“probably.” touya shrugs.

“no tellin’.” keigo adds on.

“right.” you nod, tension in the air thickening just as before. “i’m gonna go.”

they both snap their eyes your way, watching as you pack your things from the homework session you were supposed to be having with keigo.

“you leaving already?” keigo sits forward, a bewildered look on his face. “you didn’t even finish your drink.”

“you’re gonna owe me for wasting my soda,” touya pipes back in. “might as well just stay and finish it.”

you just force a laugh, pulling the doors handle without another word. you drive home the same way, in silence. and once you get back to your apartment, you ignore all their notifications, including neglecting to send your nightly goodnight snapchats to them both. but even as the night drags on and the hours go by, you can’t force yourself to sleep. there’s a weird, uncomfortable feeling in your stomach, one that keeps you from being able to get comfortable.

you know that they’re not bad people, that they’ve been great friends to you over the past few months and you can trust them. yet, even reminding yourself of that, you can’t get the weight off of your chest. so, you grab your keys and head back to their apartment hoping keigo will put you at ease like he always—usually does.

“they’re not here.” tomura blinks down at you, hair messy as ever as it frames his face that holds his permanently bored expression that does nothing to help the ever growing pit in the bottom of your stomach.

“where’d they go?” you ask quietly, half expecting him to shut the door in your face.

he only shrugs, turning and leaving the door open as he starts to walk away. you feel your body fall cold, thoughts eating at you without anything to slow them down. you can’t even remember what it is you’re so worried about, why you even feel this way.

“you’re letting the heat out.” you hear him mumble, as he starts to gather his things from the living room into his arms loudly. “i don't care what you do, just shut the door.” his shoulders roll back when he stands fully again and heads to his room. he’s so much taller when he actually stands up right.

you decided to wait inside, maybe you could catch keigo when he comes back. or even touya and—it’s two am. you step inside and shut the door behind you, falling to the couch once you reach it. maybe watching tv will help pass the time, oh and your soda is still on the table, perfect. now you don’t have to ask tomura for anything.

“why are you here?” he sighs, passing behind you, as if he was forced to ask.

“i just wanted to talk to them.” you light up your phone screen, debating on just calling them to see where they are.

“they had a bet.” you can see him trying to crack his neck from where he stands at the side of the couch. “if that’s what you came to talk about.”

“what?”

“you always ask them questions that they don’t answer, and you see how they get quiet whenever i ask them who won. before whats-his-name started talking to you they had a bet.” he talks down at you like it’s the most obvious thing, like you should’ve known this already.

you can feel your hands bunch up the material of your pants as they curl into fists on their own.

“it was who could fuck you first.”

and you think you can hear your heart as it falls out of your chest, toppling down your body and the couch as it clunks to the ground.

“that’s the only reason they started talking to you.”

he sighs, plopping himself down on the other side of the sofa, just far enough away from you that the two of you wouldn’t be touching.

“they probably actually like you now.”

 like that was supposed to bring you any comfort.

“why don’t you like me?” you say it before you can even process the painful information he’s already given you, before you even really think about it. though, you don’t have any anxiety about his answer. he’s already told you the worst thing possible about the two people you’d become closest with and you know he doesn’t like you. nothing he can say will make the way you feel any worse.

“huh?” he looks over at you with an eyebrow raised, but lips tilted in annoyance.

then you remember tomura is brutal with his words and truly doesn’t care about other people's feelings. maybe he’ll tear into you just to get you to leave.

“you always glare at me, you ignored me when i’ve tried to speak to you, you-”

“god, shut up.” he lays his head back against the cushion of the couch, spreading his legs so that his knee leans against yours. “i don’t like you because you’re stupid.” he’s as blunt as you expected him to be, but it doesn’t feel like theres any malice behind his words.

“i don’t think i’m stupid.” you say out loud, but mostly to yourself, you know tomura doesn’t care what you think. you stare at the watered down drink in your hand, mouth gone dry from the horrible feeling in your gut, you bring it up to your lips and drink as much as you can before you need to breathe.

“that’s why you are stupid.” he rolls his neck to look at you, head still laying on the couch. white hair caked to his face, red eyes staring at you without that usual grimace for what feels like the first time. “you think you’re too smart to be fooled, that’s why they were able to get to you so easily.”

“but i didn’t fall for anything because i never did anything with them.” you reason, taking another gulp from your drink and he just blinks back at you.

“you’re still in their hands.” he yawns, shifting his hips. “even if they do like you, what’s stopping them from using you as a quick fuck one night?”

you can’t think of an answer. it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to have sex with one of them, but really you always thought one of them would ask you to be their girlfriend if anything was to happen between you and whichever. the couch squeaks when he moves his hips again, readjusting once more.

“why would you tell me about all this if you’re their friend?”

“to get you out of my apartment.”

the feeling clouding your entire body couldn’t possibly get any worse, but the thought that he might’ve been telling you cause he cared, even if it was the tiniest bit- that might’ve helped. maybe you shouldn’t have even asked.

“right.” you nod, pursing your lips. “i’ll leave then, thanks.”

the second you stand up, the light from the hallway shines onto tomura’s lap. how the fuck did you miss that he had a hard on this entire time.

“oh.” you say before you have a chance to stop yourself. “sorry- i’m sorry.” you cover your mouth heading for the door, but after a few steps you start to feel dizzy, ultimately collapsing to the floor when your knees go weak. you hear something that sounds like ‘what the fuck’ come from behind you but it sounds muffled. you heart racing makes the sound of your blood pumping far too loud to hear anything else. but then, he’s crouched in front of you looking even more displeased than when he’d first opened the door. he doesn’t even say anything, just sneers at you.

“what was in that drink?” you grasp his shirt, hold shaking as your hand trembles. you feel the warm pit in your stomach from earlier increase by tenfold. it brings heat to your cheeks when you realize there's a puddle starting to form in your underwear, that your cheeks are burning and the feeling overtaking you is want. 

“oh, you really are fucking stupid.” he sighs, looking over to your nearly empty glass and chuckling in disbelief. always so cruel. “maybe they don’t actually like you.”

“tomura..” you can feel the tears prick at your eyes as the heat boiling under your skin starts to spread. “what do i do?”

he sighs again, because you being here is such an inconvenience, the thought of him having to help you is a complete detriment to his night.

“leave, call the police on them for drugging you, go to the hospital, fuck if i care.” he stands back up, groaning as he stretches and you moan from the sound alone. it makes the heat in your cheeks flare with embarrassment and you feel like you may pass out from it all. his feet shift in front of you, and all you can do is curl in on yourself, clutching to your clothes and press your thighs together in an attempt to ease the ache building between them. the pain that in an instant reaches from the top of your head down to the soles of your feet, making even them blister and throb.

“you’re so pathetic.” he mumbles, nudging your shoulder up with his socked foot. “you’re just gonna sit there and hump my floor?”

you let the tears fall, stop holding in the sobs you’ve been trying to keep silent. you want to think about how wrong you were, how you truly thought you could trust keigo, touya even. but tomura was right, all along he was warning you without even talking to you. you want to cry and to curse them but you can’t, your mind is clouded over with lust and it’s taking everything in you not to stick your hand in your pants right there like some kind of deviant.

“say it and i’ll help you.” he pushes up harder with his foot, forcing you to sit upright, to look at him. the light from the kitchen illuminates behind him, and from here he looks the same as every single murderer in every scary movie you’ve ever seen. as much as you want to feel even the smallest bit of creeped out, embarrassed, or even to reject his shitty offer. you can’t, your body won’t let you be rational. it fights against everything you know is right.

“s-say what?” you try to steady your breathing, hiccuping as tears still stream down your face.

“that you’re pathetic, stupid, i’m not picky.” he shrugs, rubbing one of his eyes as he looks down at you expectantly.

“i’m.. pathetic.” you say it, admit it easily, because even now with a half empty mind you know it's true.

without word, the same foot that pushed you up, presses against the side of the same shoulder forcing your body to the floor. you allow it, not complaining even when the flat of his foot lands between your shoulder blades to press your chest down. he props your hips up and works your bottoms down without speaking, which is probably for the best. there’s no way anything he could say would make you feel better about this situation or the fact that he’s the one ‘helping’ you through it.

it seems to worsen the second that your sex is exposed to the air, your whole body rushing with what feels like molten lava in your viens.

you push against his touch the second it slides along your slit, moaning loudly into the plush of the carpet. it earns you a slap with the back of his hand against your skin but it only plays further into your pleasure, which makes him huff behind you. the need for something more—anything more overwhelms you and you start to beg mindlessly, truly, because you don’t know what the fuck is falling from your tongue, only that your mouth is infact moving.

“shut up.” shigaraki grunts from behind you. “so fucking annoying.” he’d probably been trying to prep you, to give you some kind of mercy, but then again he could’ve just been attempting to tease you. either way, he cuts it short, shifting behind you and pushing the tip of him against your already fluttering entrance. his free hand comes down to where his foot had been, pressing flat between your shoulder blades to keep you in place.

he gives you no grace as to ease it in. your hands claw at the carpet as he shoves all that he can in with one thrust, nails digging into your skin come with the sharp breath the both of you let out. you’re nothing more than a body, than the euphoria you feel with each push of his hips to force his cock fully in, than the sound that slips from your mouth beneath him. you can tell with each movement tomura is doing this for himself and couldn’t care less about how you feel, doesn’t even think about how thick he is. doesn’t care if the stretch from him burns, if it makes you cry or hurt—and if he does, it’s because that’s what he wants.

but that thought alone makes you clamp around him, forcing a small sound from his chest. you can feel your slick along the insides of your thighs when he finally presses his hips fully against your ass, you know it has to be dripping down the base of him to his balls. you’ll blame it on the foggy state of your consciousness but it makes your mouth water, the thought of him using you for his own pleasure. the smallest hint of him being attracted to you well enough to get off to you despite him being so indifferent about you before. it makes you hungry in a way that probably can’t be blamed on whatever drug your so-called-friends slipped into your drink.

you pull your hips away from his before pushing back once again, drawing another sound out of you both. the hand digging into your spine drags its nails to your hips, the other finding its way there to grip you at both sides as you fuck yourself back onto him. with each push you feel his hips cant forwards the tiniest bit to meet yours, and it sends pride throughout you. not to mention the feeling of him easing the all consuming ache with each stretch of him that he allows you.

his hands move from their position to grip at your ass, crescent claws digging into the soft there as he spreads your cheeks and takes control of your pace. it’s as rough as you’d expect from him, you’re sure you’re going to be bleeding with the way he forces your movements with his hold on you. you scramble to hold onto the carpet when he moves slightly, no doubt accidentally, and the tip of him prods against that spot inside you that has you losing your mind.

“oh god, fuck-fuck-” slips out, you’re actually able to catch that one.

“shut the fuck up.” he replies, voice strained. and suddenly you can hear the panting, it’s loud and fills the room right alongside the sound of his balls smacking against your skin. he feels good, it’s so obvious when he speaks.

“feels s’good,” you slur out again when he adds even more speed to his thrusts. “s’good, thank you, thank you.”

“shut up, shut up.” his voice comes out as a moan this time. one of his hands comes down just above your ass, pushing your hips flat to the floor and he moves his knees on either side of your thighs.

“s’close, please-” is all you’re able to get out before his palm is over your lips.

“just fuckin’ take it and shut up.” he hisses in your ear as his body lays over your own. you can feel him panting now, against the juncture of your neck. “they’re so fuckin’ dumb.” he mumbles, groaning when his movements become sporadic, clearly nearing the edge as you start to clamp down on him.

a few more pushes against your soft, warm, sticky walls, and you can’t keep the blurry coffee table in your sight. your eyes roll back as hot static forces its way through your veins and up your spine. the twitch of his cock inside of you only adding to it, the spill of his seed on the other hand seems to pull you out of it and only the small sounds of his whimper keep you in place. it was something beyond the bliss of an orgasm to hear such a stiff man moaning for you.

it’s soft then, his cock as he pulls it out, and his movements. he tucks himself back in his pants without bothering to clean himself, but for you, he strips away your bottoms before helping you up and to the door to his room. you want to finally be rational now that you have the means. you want to go home and wash tonight off of you. to leave and never come near tomura’s roommates ever again. but when he tosses you down on his bed and comes back from the bathroom that you had no clue that he had in his room, to give you the rag to clean yourself, you decided against it. maybe, you should just sleep.

you pass out the second he gestures you to actually lay down, the look of annoyance back on his face when he does so. and you’re fast asleep by the time there’s a jingle of keys at the door, neither of them speak as they come in to find their roommate on the couch, fingers fiddling away at the console controller. though if you were there to look at them, you would see how keigo’s eyes instantly darted over to your empty drink. and how touya’s mouth immediately twists up in annoyance.

“she wasn’t at her place.” touya says, falling down beside his friend. “thought you said the pills that guy had would’ve had her like putty.”

“bad info.” he shrugs, shooting the last kill on his game before looking over at the blonde still standing. “got somethin’ to say?”

“what happened to the drink?” keigo asks, but the crack in tomura’s door is more than enough to see the figure laying in the bed.

“oh, right,” shigaraki takes his focus back to the tv and uses one hand to switch screens, holding the other out, palm up. “i won.”

repost from my old blog <3

[malsmind]

file/information —

hacker!matt desperatly has to find a way to hack into

popular!reader's phone again.

file-warnings: stalking, male and female masturbation

you sat in the cramped lecture hall, the faint hum of the projector overhead mixing with the rustle of notebooks and the occasional cough from someone a few rows back. it was a typical tuesday morning at college—intro to programming, a class you only half-paid attention to because the professor’s monotone voice could put anyone to sleep. your phone buzzed on the desk, screen lighting up with a text from a friend about some party this weekend. you smirked, tapping out a quick reply, oblivious to the pair of eyes watching you from across the room.

matt slouched in his seat near the back, his hoodie pulled low over his forehead, hair spilling out in messy strands. he kind of looked like every other guy to be honest. he didn't dress in any 'weird' or 'nerdy' way, but there was something sharper in the way his blue eyes flicked toward you. he wasn’t just some slacker coasting through college. matt was a hacker, the kind who could dismantle a system in his sleep, and he’d been trying to crack into your phone for weeks. not that he hadn't done it before, he's hacked into your phone and other devices multiple times, but recently, your phone’s security was tighter than usual, probably because apple had sent you a warning when matt wasn't careful enough with hacking into it last time. some custom encryption he couldn’t quite unravel, and it was driving him up the wall.

the reason why exactly it was making him go insane was because last night, when he went to touch himself, knowing after a long day and a night out you'd shower, maybe even find relief in touching yourself as well, he was left needy and frustrated when your phone kept kicking him out. no mater what he did, your phone just wouldn't cooperate.

he chewed the inside of his cheek, spinning a pen between his fingers as he watched you scroll through your screen. he’d tried phishing links, brute-forcing your password, even sniffing the campus wifi for vulnerabilities—nothing worked. it was starting to feel personal, like your phone was taunting him. then, last night, hunched over his laptop in the living room of the house he shared with his brothers, the idea hit him: if he couldn’t hack it, he’d break it. get you a new one. slip in a backdoor before you even turned it on. his lips had curled into a grin at the thought, a little twisted but undeniably clever.

now, he just needed an opening. class ended, and you shoved your stuff into your backpack, slinging it over one shoulder as you headed out. matt followed at a distance, hands in his pockets, blending into the crowd of students spilling into the hall. he caught sight of you by the vending machines, fishing coins out of your jeans to grab a soda. perfect. he ambled over and “accidentally” bumped into you just as you turned around. your phone slipped from your hand, clattering to the tile floor with a sickening crack.

“shit, my bad,” matt muttered, crouching down to pick it up before you could. the screen was shattered, spiderwebs of glass radiating from one corner. he held it out to you, his expression all apologetic, but inside, he was buzzing. “damn, that looks rough. still work?”

you took it from him, frowning as you pressed the power button. nothing. just a dead, black screen. “great,” you sighed, “there goes my whole life.”

“m' sorry..” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “i’ve got an extra one back at my place, though. new model, still in the box. you can have it if you want—save you the hassle of dealing with the repair shop.” his tone was offhand, like it was no big deal, but his pulse ticked up a notch waiting for your answer.

you hesitated, eyeing him for a second. you’d seen matt around—quiet guy, always tinkering with something in the lab—but you didn’t really know him. still, a free phone was a free phone. “yeah, okay,” you said finally. “that’d be awesome, thanks.”

he flashed a lopsided grin, leading you across campus to his place. he dug through a drawer, pulling out a sleek, unopened phone box. “here,” he said, tossing it to you. “all yours.”

you caught it, tearing into the packaging while he leaned against the desk, watching. what you didn’t know—what you couldn’t know—was that he’d already cracked it open days ago, slipped in a custom firmware with a remote access trojan buried deep in the system. camera, mic, everything—he’d have it all. you powered it on, the screen glowing to life, and started setting it up, oblivious to the way his fingers twitched slightly, itching to get back to his laptop.

“looks good,” you said, pocketing it. “thanks..”

“nah, don’t worry about it,” he replied, shrugging. “just glad it’s not going to waste.”

you left, and he waited a few minutes before locking the door, rushing up to his room and booting up his rig. the monitor flickered on, lines of code scrolling as he connected to the backdoor he’d planted. your camera feed popped up, grainy at first, then sharpening as you walked into your dorm room across campus. he leaned back in his chair, heart pounding a little harder than he’d admit, watching you toss your bag onto the bed and kick off your shoes. nothing special yet, just you being you, but the thrill was in the control. he could see you whenever he wanted again.

later that night, he couldn’t sleep. the room was dark except for the blue glow of his screen, the hum of his pc fan the only sound. he pulled up the feed again. you were in bed, the soft light of a lamp casting shadows across your walls—posters, a cluttered bookshelf, a half-dead plant in the corner. you’d changed into an oversized t-shirt, hair messy, scrolling through the new phone he’d given you. then, the phone started moving in a way that made him sit up straighter, turning up the volume of his headset. matt saw the expression on your face, hearing the small whimpering noises slipping past your lips, and knew what was going on behind the screen.

he'd been waiting for it all night..

matt’s breath hitched. he shouldn’t—he knew that somewhere in the back of his head—but the line was already blurred, and he was too far gone to care. he unzipped his jeans, hand slipping inside as he watched you shift, the shirt riding up slightly to expose the soft skin of your perfect tits. "shit—" matt hissed, his grip tightened, movements slow at first, eyes locked on the screen. your room smelled like lavender, he imagined from what he'd seen trough your camera so far, from that candle you always burned. he pictured the way you’d gasp if you knew, and just as his thoughts wandered to what your reaction would be if you knew what was going on behind the little screen you held in your hand, you moaned, wet sounds of your fingers working on yourseld echoing. he thought about what those moans would sound like if he was the one pulling them out of you, the thought sending a jolt through him.

the feed stuttered slightly as you picked up your pace, fingering yourself, but matt reloaded the page, keeping you in frame, fresh and in perfect quality. his hand moved faster, rougher, the sound of his breathing filling the silence of his room. "fuuuuck, y/n—"he whimpered pathetically, watching you as you bit your lip, breathing heavily as you tried to hold back your moans, and he groaned low in his throat, imagining the heat between your legs, the wetness clinging to his fingers instead of yours, the slickness he couldn’t see but could guess at. "fuck—fuck—fuck..." matt gasped out, body tensing up as cum hit his knuckles, hot and sticky, as he finished, chest heaving, eyes still glued to you lying there, oblivious, reaching your orgasm in synch to him without even knowing.

he wiped his hand on his shirt, leaned back, and smirked at the screen. “so fuckin' sexy..” he muttered to no one, already thinking about tomorrow, and the day after, and the many more days he'd watch you touch yourself, doing it with you.

@loser41ifee GAVE THE IDEA FOR THIS! (i hope i did a good job cause omg this took me way to long to actually start writing.)

series link

taglist

—

@backwardshatnick @sturniolosymphony @sturns-mermaid @realzula @courta13 @sturnzzlovee @chrissweetheart @sturniolosymphony @sturniolo1trips @freshsturnzx @sturnslutz @sturrrrnslvt

[mostlysignssomeportents]

China hacked Verizon, AT&T and Lumen using the FBI’s backdoor

On OCTOBER 23 at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.

State-affiliated Chinese hackers penetrated AT&T, Verizon, Lumen and others; they entered their networks and spent months intercepting US traffic – from individuals, firms, government officials, etc – and they did it all without having to exploit any code vulnerabilities. Instead, they used the back door that the FBI requires every carrier to furnish:

https://www.wsj.com/tech/cybersecurity/u-s-wiretap-systems-targeted-in-china-linked-hack-327fc63b?st=C5ywbp&reflink=desktopwebshare_permalink

In 1994, Bill Clinton signed CALEA into law. The Communications Assistance for Law Enforcement Act requires every US telecommunications network to be designed around facilitating access to law-enforcement wiretaps. Prior to CALEA, telecoms operators were often at pains to design their networks to resist infiltration and interception. Even if a telco didn't go that far, they were at the very least indifferent to the needs of law enforcement, and attuned instead to building efficient, robust networks.

Predictably, CALEA met stiff opposition from powerful telecoms companies as it worked its way through Congress, but the Clinton administration bought them off with hundreds of millions of dollars in subsidies to acquire wiretap-facilitation technologies. Immediately, a new industry sprang into being; companies that promised to help the carriers hack themselves, punching back doors into their networks. The pioneers of this dirty business were overwhelmingly founded by ex-Israeli signals intelligence personnel, though they often poached senior American military and intelligence officials to serve as the face of their operations and liase with their former colleagues in law enforcement and intelligence.

Telcos weren't the only opponents of CALEA, of course. Security experts – those who weren't hoping to cash in on government pork, anyways – warned that there was no way to make a back door that was only useful to the "good guys" but would keep the "bad guys" out.

These experts were – then as now – dismissed as neurotic worriers who simultaneously failed to understand the need to facilitate mass surveillance in order to keep the nation safe, and who lacked appropriate faith in American ingenuity. If we can put a man on the moon, surely we can build a security system that selectively fails when a cop needs it to, but stands up to every crook, bully, corporate snoop and foreign government. In other words: "We have faith in you! NERD HARDER!"

NERD HARDER! has been the answer ever since CALEA – and related Clinton-era initiatives, like the failed Clipper Chip program, which would have put a spy chip in every computer, and, eventually, every phone and gadget:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clipper_chip

America may have invented NERD HARDER! but plenty of other countries have taken up the cause. The all-time champion is former Australian Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull, who, when informed that the laws of mathematics dictate that it is impossible to make an encryption scheme that only protects good secrets and not bad ones, replied, "The laws of mathematics are very commendable, but the only law that applies in Australia is the law of Australia":

https://www.zdnet.com/article/the-laws-of-australia-will-trump-the-laws-of-mathematics-turnbull/

CALEA forced a redesign of the foundational, physical layer of the internet. Thankfully, encryption at the protocol layer – in the programs we use – partially counters this deliberately introduced brittleness in the security of all our communications. CALEA can be used to intercept your communications, but mostly what an attacker gets is "metadata" ("so-and-so sent a message of X bytes to such and such") because the data is scrambled and they can't unscramble it, because cryptography actually works, unlike back doors. Of course, that's why governments in the EU, the US, the UK and all over the world are still trying to ban working encryption, insisting that the back doors they'll install will only let the good guys in:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/05/theyre-still-trying-to-ban-cryptography/

Any back door can be exploited by your adversaries. The Chinese sponsored hacking group know as Salt Typhoon intercepted the communications of hundreds of millions of American residents, businesses, and institutions. From that position, they could do NSA-style metadata-analysis, malware injection, and interception of unencrypted traffic. And they didn't have to hack anything, because the US government insists that all networking gear ship pre-hacked so that cops can get into it.

This isn't even the first time that CALEA back doors have been exploited by a hostile foreign power as a matter of geopolitical skullduggery. In 2004-2005, Greece's telecommunications were under mass surveillance by US spy agencies who wiretapped Greek officials, all the way up to the Prime Minister, in order to mess with the Greek Olympic bid:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greek_wiretapping_case_2004%E2%80%9305

This is a wild story in so many ways. For one thing, CALEA isn't law in Greece! You can totally sell working, secure networking gear in Greece, and in many other countries around the world where they have not passed a stupid CALEA-style law. However the US telecoms market is so fucking huge that all the manufacturers build CALEA back doors into their gear, no matter where it's destined for. So the US has effectively exported this deliberate insecurity to the whole planet – and used it to screw around with Olympic bids, the most penny-ante bullshit imaginable.

Now Chinese-sponsored hackers with cool names like "Salt Typhoon" are traipsing around inside US telecoms infrastructure, using the back doors the FBI insisted would be safe.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

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/2024/10/07/foreseeable-outcomes/#calea

Image: Kris Duda, modified https://www.flickr.com/photos/ahorcado/5433669707/

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

[beeseverywhen]

The recent bathroom investigation has brought up some interesting points, so, some information on toilets in working class homes in the uk:

bathrooms being in working class houses is a relatively new thing in the uk (last century in new builds but took a long time for older buildings to catch up) and when it began, as to be expected, it happened in stages. you can generally see evidence of this when you go in older houses and you can kind of see in a lot of them how they would have been built.

(there are some differences in england and wales vs scotland but more on that later)

ok so in cities in the 19th century the common situation was back to back houses (generally terraced houses in england and blocks of flats in scotland) with courtyards in the middle of 2. the courtyards would have a toilet some distance from the back door (because of smell and vermin ect) shared by all the households. there was a move in the 19th century for every court to have its own water pump for use by the households there (previously there would have been water pumps at the ends of streets ect)

an interesting difference between england and scotland is that scottish working class housing tended to have kitchens in the flats, whereas it took longer for this to happen in england with sculleries being shared for much longer. this makes perfect sense when you consider the weather. having a more open plan living space with your own range was a great way of staying warm, a lot of scottish tenements had built in beds in the shared kitchen/living room

as sewage disposal systems improved toilets could be closer to living spaces. new builds at this time began to have toilets joined on to the home though the door would still be outside. all the same, going out the backdoor to a door on the same wall was much nicer in the cold of night than to the end of a courtyard. in tenement buildings we began to see toilets being added at the end of halls, often you'd have 1 shared toilet between 2 floors.

now this change is recent enough that you can still find evidence of it. eventually it began to be expected that every family home should have its own conveniences. starting with sculleries and taps in most homes. then to every home having its own range and cooking happening inside the home. the sculleries moved closer to what we'd recognize as a kitchen now, and in new builds, bathrooms began moving their way indoors. at first, this was with fixed bathtubs (rather than the tin baths that had been common, as well as visiting public bathhouses) and at first they were often in sculleries rather than in a separate bathroom.

eventually there was a move towards actual bathrooms, though the toilets remained in a separate room at first. there was some resistance to having the toilet door inside the home at first by some people as they had been used to having the toilet away from the living space for cleanliness sake (not to mention, it was cheaper to build this way) and this led to a few experiments with some bizare setups for toilets

so this is an example from the mile cross estate. a door has been added but originally this would have been ourdoors. however, theyve set the doors at an angle and put a porch between them. the toilet is outside of the house but its not fully outdoors

of course this didnt wind up being the way forward and most of these attached toilets have since been converted so they can be accessed from the inside.

whats interesting is, while inside bathrooms were being included in newbuilds in the 50s, and expectations changed so most older houses were converted in the years after. not all were.

there were still houses with 'down the bottom of the garden' toilets in the 80s (my dad lived in one) though they were few and far between by then. in my childhood, it wasnt uncommon for outdoor toilets attached to the house where you had to go out the backdoor to use them, to still exist, but they tended to be in addition to a full bathroom inside the house (usually awkwardly placed in a too small attic room, or on a diagonal, or downstairs in what once was a parlour.

which brings us on to yesterdays flat:

in 1961 7% of houses in england and wales still had no toilet inside or attatched to (and accessed from outdoors) their home

in scotland 9 years later, a quarter of people were still sharing a toilet outside their home

this campaign kickstarted conversions in tenements so they all included toilets. thats why these flats without them are so uncommon now. but as in the article above about pat from the mile end estate, tenants were perfectly entitled to decline renovations. of course, most wouldnt have. but for those who didnt particularly want the hassle of renovations, didnt want to give up space in their homes, and were happy carrying on as before, well. the roll out of bathrooms in every other tenement would only have made this easier. the shared toilet was only being shared by them now.

later on, it would become mandatory for all homes to have toilets, and so when faced with a longstanding tenant in a flat with no toilet, who has been the sole user of the shared toilet for the past decade, its likely easy to tick the box of 'yes the home has a toilet' by just adding the communal toilet on to the deeds.

not to say it wouldnt cause complications: that flat was unmortgagable and this is likely a big reason why. a property without clear property boundaries causes issues from a liability perspective. its difficult to insure and a lot of mortgage companies wont want to take on that risk

[deathlyalcohol]

Drunken Touch

Toby Rogers x F!Reader (NSFW)

Words: 2.5k Time to read: 20min

Summary: You're drunk at a bar with your friends, when you notice this bartender giving you a couple of free drinks..

CW: 18+ Content, Alcohol, Mention of readers past relationship, drunk reader (also she consents), female reader, reader is a heavy drinker & smoker, Toby also smokes (yes it's hot) -toby seems to get a somewhat normal life but he still had that car accident, uhh fingering, unsafe sex, praising

Side note from the author: I am intoxicated and it´s 1AM so please note the spelling mistakes, THAT´S also my first blog SO have mercy on me thank you!! Also English is my second language. Tips on how to write better are always appreciated just don't be harsh/mean. - HAPPY FRIDAY 13th 😆

-NSFW UNDER THE CUT! MINORS DON`T INTERACT-

You and your friends decide to go out on a Friday, typically you always go out on Fridays. But this one, this one is different, it´s Friday the 13th and in your town there's always a party on that day. It´s been a year since you moved on from your ex but it seems you still haven't found anyone or any situationship at that matter. It feels like there is no one right for you. It´s difficult to find the perfect partner although today is different.

You guys meet up at your house and continue going to some random´s party. You first buy alcohol at the near by gas station - everything is already closed so it´s your only choice. You go up to the registers buy some cheap alcohol and head out. Layla, your friend, tells you the party is right at the corner.

„Better hurry up drinking this bottle of Eristoff." she says.

You down the rest of what´s left. The syrupy-vodka burning your throat but who cares you love doing it every time.

"HEyYy Y/N!" some people at the party are greeting you, you're not really popular but you know some people from going out this much. You say hi back, a bit tipsy but continue through the home. You sit on a couch, knowing it hasn´t been cleaned for ages, a matter of fact never. Still you sit down grabbing another bottle that's lying around and try to drink it. Fuck this tastes awful you think. Nevertheless you drink it empty and suddenly.

Shit... you see your ex, he didn't see you, but in a moment you get up and try to go to your other friend that came with you.

"Y/N do you see him?? Holy shit why is this piece of shit here??" Nova yells.

"PSSSH keep it down. God are you already drunk??" you try to keep her quiet but she is already walking up to him and you try not to make ANY eye contact.

Why is he here? He doesn't know anyone here and why now? I need to get the fuck out. You sneak out by a backdoor and light up the last cigarette you have. The smoke looks so beautiful in the moonlight. Layla coming out of nowhere asking for a cigarette, you just stare at her and share the one in your hand.

"Oh.. sorry didn´t know that's your last one but anyways do you want to go to a bar? It´s really boring in here and the alcohol tastes like shit."

"Sure but what about Nova she looks like she wants to stay?" you ask.

"Oh don´t worry, her boyfriend is here too and he has to drive, so he will look after her!" Layla replied.

So the next thing you both do is putting out the cigarette and go away from the party. You walk from bar to bar until it´s midnight and lastly you find the last bar to go to tonight. It’s cramped up in a small alleyway. Shaby but in a cool way, dark and small lightening. Inside there is playing metal music. You notice that the song that is playing in the background is Aerials by System of A Down. You sit on a near by window, cool summer air blowing into the room. Cozy yet mysterious, a bartender is coming, he asks

"What can I-I girls get you for tonight?"

"Two rum and cokes, please." you reply to the stuttering waiter.

You don´t think much of it. Continuing the conversation with Layla. You talk about how dumb your ex is and why he shows up in the first place.

"Man I can't believe he STILL is wearing ripped skinny jeans and that awful cap with his oily hair" Layla says laughingly.

"Yeah, why did I ever date that guy? Please remind me!!"

"Oh I don´t know but you have a SHITTY taste" she exclaims.

Right as she says the last word the brunette is handing you both the drinks. You didn't notice at first but HE was tall, he had a tape on his mouth - no wait, a bandage, you wonder what was up with that. He winked at you when he notices you staring at him. Gosh the alcohol must be finally working. Your friend still talking about your ex and sipping her drink while you drift away in your thoughts. I must be crazy for thinking he is so hot by just serving me a drink. He was. Oh how he is just cleaning the cups and putting away the dirty dishes. His arms circling the glass with the semi-wet towel. It made you feel something. Thinking about his hands rubbing you.

"Earth on Y/N!! Are you listening? I am talking to you.!"

"Yeah sorry I was just thinking why I dated that asshole" you lied but could you possibly tell your friend that you think the bartender is just hot by serving you both drinks?

"OHH I know what's going on!" your friend states.

"You think about how to get revenge on your ex."

"Y-yea you're right" you reply.

"Come on let´s go outside smoke a cigarette."

"Um I don't know if you forgot but we don't have any anymore" you state.

"Fuckk you are right. Well let's just ask the bartender he seems like he smokes." she implies.

Both of you get up. You adjusted yourself without knowing it.

"Heyyy uh.. sir" Layla asks unknowingly.

"Toby! You c-can call me Toby. What can I g-get you?"

"Just some cigarettes if you have any of course."

God my friend is so embarrassing.

"Y-Yeah no problem, the only thing is, I h-have rolling cigarettes but if you w-want t-to -twitch- I can roll them for you." Toby smiling says.

"YES thank you!" you loudly say and push your friend away before she says something rude or even more embarrassing things.

"Can you stop shoving me?"

"No! before you do any more stupid shit."

You wait outside of the bar. No one is around but it is 1AM. How could there be no one at this time? You tap your foot, badly needing a cigarette when finally Toby is approaching both of you.

You both thank him, he is trying to leave when you say "Hey uh do you want to join us? Tell us, why do you work here? I kinda want to get to know you." that's when you realised what the hell you said.

Ugh what the fuck. WHY did I just ask him that he has a job to do.

"Mhmm? Oh yeah I d-don´t see why not. She is a p-pretty straightforward lady mhm?" Toby asks your friend who is minding her own business.

She doesn´t reply so instead he goes up to you and asks again.

"Well if you say it like that maybe I am and maybe you know what I want from you" the alcohol hits more than ever.

You are completely drunk but you don´t care anymore, you only think about Toby. He's so shy but smug at the same time, like he never really talked to a woman before. He was caught off guard by the last sentence but brushes it off

"You kn-know you are pretty drunk, yo-you better be careful or else something is going to happen to you!" he leans forward to tell you.

You get red, he is so close to your face. You practically can feel his breath. Smoking the cigarette faster, you inhale so much, the smoke gets in your eye.

"Agh. My eye!"

"Huh are you o-okay?" Toby asks.

"Yea just smoke. in my. eye." ouch it hurts.

All of a sudden he holds up your chin to look if everything is alright. She is so mesmerising, I could look into her eyes forever toby thinks. After your eye stops burning you notice how close both of your faces are. You want to kiss him so badly and so does he. He saw how you swung into the bar, laughing and smiling. He knows you'll get to know each other better after this night. He was already captivated by your beauty the first time you stepped into the bar. He couldn't help but flirt with you. Her skin is so soft. He could kiss you but you are drunk this would totally go wrong. You try to lean in for a kiss when you get interrupted by Layla.

"Hey uh buddy. Do you mind letting go of my friend? We would like you to serve us more drinks now."

Buddy? I barely know her.

"Oh-h s-sorry.. Let me make you s-some drinks."

Layla is just looking out for you but you want this, you want him to look at you and hold him, you wanted more than just looks. Still all three of you went inside. Toby making some shots. After one there were two and then three shots, Toby actually drinking with the both of you due to being the last two people in the bar.

You look at your phone 3.56 AM. Layla has gone home earlier with a cap, leaving Toby and you alone. She was so drunk, she forgot trying to "protect" you. But you know Toby would be the one protecting.

You both are chatting and flirting "You know you're a good bartender and a hot one at that!"

" You think t-there are only ugly bartenders?" Toby laughing.

"I mean NoO but you are so so handsome. I can't resist your beautiful eyes." you just stare at him happy and drunk.

He can't help but also feel tipsy.

"Sorry but I h-have to close the bar n-now, it is already 4AM." he announces.

I better bring her home, she seems to fall at every step she takes. I can't risk her getting hurt.

"I w-will walk you home, it´s not safe and it's late"

"Alright big guy, but don't expect sleeping at my place. IT´S a mess."

Even if it is, he wouldn't mind it. His place has always been a mess. But maybe he can crash at your place, he wouldn´t try to convince you but the way you have been flirting with him all night tells him differently.

"You know yo-you´re pretty cute when you stare and giggle at m-me. It t-tells me you want me." you are stunned but it's true.

The whole night you've been thinking how he could touch you. With his rough hand, kissing your neck, fingering you. God maybe you really really need him badly. It´s not even the alcohol in your system. It´s your body that is craving for his touch. Imagining him on top of you caressing your face. The thought of it melts your brain.

You both stumble to your home, your arms hugging him not even letting go when you try to put your key into the keyhole. He's warm, you can feel his toned muscles. You're getting wetter the more you both touch each other.

"There y-you go gorgeous, do you need anything e-else?"

"Mhmm I need you, I want you Toby please" you beg not even recognising what you just said but that's all Toby needed to hear.

He picks you up, closes the door behind him and looks for your room. You kiss him, slowing on his neck.

"Hah- Fuck.. Y/N"

After walking for a while he finds your room settling you down on the bed. He gets on top of you and starts kissing you sloppily.

"S-So good- you taste so f-fucking- good."

You were practically clinging to his body slowing taking off your clothes.

"That's it baby hmm~" his breath getting heavier.

One hand holding your hip and the other one travelling down.

"Hah.. you are so soaked f-fuck. That's all because of me?" He laughed breathlessly, you can't help but moan as he circles your clit slowly..

Fuck I barely know him but why is he so fucking hot. Your moaning turning his dick harder, throbbing against his jeans. He starts to put one finger in, stretching you open, slowly working a second on in and curling them forward.

"Ahh.. Toby" you whined.

"Y/N-..please fuck.. Let me f-feel, mhm.. you" He can barely keep it together, craving your touch all night. You can feel his cock behind his jeans on your thigh, rubbing it, only getting painfully harder.

He pushes his finger deeper inside you, grinding them against your g-spot, his palm pressing down on your clit. You struggle to keep it together. Your whole body belongs to him, you can't keep up with his pace. You were so close when he unexpectedly stops.

"You are such a good girl f-for me do you know that, yeah?" You tried to focus but you only feel your pussy pulsating.

"Y-You do want my cock pretty girl, right?" You eagerly nodded. He stood up pulling off his shirt and zipped open his pants to yank them away.

"You really r-really want it that bad baby, huh.?" He was slim yet muscular, a weird tattoos on his arm and chest, scars and scratches. He seemed to be through a lot.

You could feel his impatience, ripping off your panties than his. His tip, a light pink, teasing your entrance. It was coated with pre-cum.

"Fuck..You are so wet. Only mine."

"Please.. I- I can´t take it anymore...Toby". you whimpered. Feeling his throbbing cock against your clit was too much. You needed him inside you. now before you went insane.

"C´mon you can beg nicer than that" He keeps running the tip over your swollen cunt. "Please Toby.. I need your cock inside of me"

"That's a good girl." He groans before slowly pushing his cock inside. He needs to stop for a moment, trying to not loose control. But when he sees you rolling your eyes back, he thrusts harder and deeper.

"God.. Fuck.. How could I have ever lived without this pretty cunt of yours." You were melting by every thrust.

One deeper than the one before. You look so pretty being fucked by him. His hands wrapping around your waist to get a better grip fucking you. He can feel him getting close and so were you. His cock slamming harder into your cervix, pressing so deep, practically a moaning mess.

"Fuck.. baby-" The feeling of you milking his cock while you also experienced a wave of ecstasy brought the thrusting to a stop.

He carefully pulled out when you realise he didn't wear a condom.

"Fuck.." you breathe heavily.

You don't care right now but you look at Toby who also stupidly smiles

"I uh I will give you the money for the m-morning after pill. How much is it? Like 20 bucks?"

You stare at this idiot and just snuggle up to him "More like 80."

You both will just get it the following morning. Now you just need rest.

Side note from the author: sooo Its now 6:40AM It was fun to write it but holy fuck I should NOT do all-nighters. Anyways I am sorry if the time is wrong I think I have a mix of past and present but its early in the morning my brain is functioning on water and energy.

TELL ME IF YOU WANT ANOTHER PART - I am going to sleep goodnight y'all 🫶

Inspired by @noctiva please check out her blog she is probably my biggest inspiration 🫶

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