Fake Slackers Novels & Stories

Loud bickering quickly erupted… “That’s outrageous!” “Yeah! That’s not fair for the rest of us that are actually serious about our future.” “What if we work our butts off and the other person only intends on fooling around? Are we expected to carry around dead weight? Slackers?” Someone said looking at Jake Lancer with clear indication. “Yes, how are you going to determine who gets paired with who?”

"Since you can not get a mate, we found a fake mate for you and you have no choice but to accept" " A... A fake mate?!"

His behavior didn't reflect the wickedness of his actions, as if he found nothing wrong in his trachareousness. "You disgraceful, obnoxious, selfish skunk." She wiggled in his hold. He laughed. He fucking laughed. Her anger boiled when his shaking chuckle left a layer of taunting sneer behind, meant to sprinkle salt on her exposed vulnerabilities. "Call me whatever you want." He said, "As long as you don't run away from me again, I'm good" "Oh you know I'm not staying in this shithole for long" her loud threat ruled the hint of mockery out.

"This is what it looks like. It looks like me; a needy slave slut, Grade A prime meat." "And me," Rhonda said. "And me," Evelyn added. "Don't forget us," Marcia and Chantelle said. I smiled at my sisters. "And them." "It's not just slaves that are sluts," Shasta said. "I know a lot of men fuckers want to stick their cocks in every hole they can as often as they can get it up." "Can I hear an amen?" Bill said. "Amen, brother," Sam said. "It's not our fault," Master said. "Really. They manage to coax another erection out of me no matter how tired I am. Can I help it they're so delectable I can't leave them alone?"

Comment down below. Don't bother about the sickness, it just popped in my brain, it's not real. See you next time!!! Much ❤❤❤and

My stomach flipped. I reread the line at least twenty-three times, as if it would suddenly change to, "Just kidding! Singles welcome! We love lonely intellectuals with control issues!" But no. I was stuck. I mean... it was just a small lie, right? I wasn’t hurting anyone. And it was for a good cause—my research on emotional intimacy in long-term relationships. I needed this grant. I needed peace. I needed the space. I just… needed a fake husband.

Waking up, grabbing my phone, and starting my day by comparing myself to others is really self-defeating and not worth it at all. It’s easy to fake a perfect life in fifteen-second clips or with a posed—and photoshopped—image. Hell, even I can make my life look fulfilling and amazing and not full of fuck-up moments. “You should,” Logan says. “If I didn’t run Getaway’s social media, I wouldn’t be online much at all. Well, other than to read articles and find spoiler-filled memes to send to Dean. He’s always behind in whatever show we’re watching.” “Poor Dean.”

“This is shit!” Sarah slammed her bag on the table then sat roughly next to Shanon. "How is the result?" Shanon pretended to be busy scrolling on her cellphone even though she already knew what happened to Sarah. “I still got an F and had to write a hundred thousand word paper based on his material. Business strategy in the modern era. Gosh, isn't that cruel? One hundred thousand words! Imagine that, Shanon!” “Yeah, that was cruel. But it was a fair punishment.”

my jaw nearly unhinged. I blinked. Once. Twice. Headlines. Dozens of them. “NHL Star Thane Slade Tests Positive for Performance Enhancing Drugs.” “Freak Accident or Drug-Induced Blackout?” ...and a flood of others screaming the same thing. I couldn’t breathe. “Tell me it’s fake,” I croaked. “Tell me it’s a prank. This isn’t—this can’t—”

He was a man who grew wealthy by selling a fantasy of strength while raising a household of pampered critics who despised the very essence of what he pretended to be. "You gave them the silk," Silas muttered. "And you left the rest of us with the static." Mapping the Rot Silas turned his attention to the side monitors. These screens were dedicated to the "Boyfriends." He had folders for each of them. Julian, a venture capitalist who dated Sophie. Marcus, a "creative director" who spent Sienna’s money on independent film projects that never went anywhere. Silas studied their faces—the manicured stubble, the expensive veneers, the eyes that had never looked at a real threat.