#Better device management

[samuraiskirtsbattledolls]

import asyncio

async def collect_data(device): # Simulate data collection from the device await asyncio.sleep(1) # Emulate I/O delay return f"Data from {device}"

async def process_data(data): # Placeholder for data processing await asyncio.sleep(0.5) return f"Processed {data}"

async def main(devices): tasks = [collect_data(device) for device in devices] data = await asyncio.gather(*tasks)processed_tasks = [process_data(d) for d in data] processed_data = await asyncio.gather(*processed_tasks) return processed_data

devices = ["sensor1", "sensor2", "camera1"] results = asyncio.run(main(devices)) print(results)

import asyncio import random

Simulate device data collection and initial edge filtering

async def collect_data(device_id): await asyncio.sleep(1) # Emulate delay in data collection data = random.randint(0, 100) # Simulated sensor data print(f"{device_id} collected data: {data}") if data > 50: # Edge filtering: forward only data over threshold return data return None # Ignore data below threshold

async def process_data(device_id, data): # Process significant data (stub for advanced processing) await asyncio.sleep(0.5) # Simulate processing time processed_data = f"{device_id} processed data: {data * 2}" # Example transformation print(processed_data) return processed_data

async def main(devices): tasks = [collect_data(device) for device in devices] collected_data = await asyncio.gather(*tasks)# Filter None values (data that didn't meet threshold) valid_data = [(devices[i], data) for i, data in enumerate(collected_data) if data is not None] # Process valid data processed_tasks = [process_data(device, data) for device, data in valid_data] await asyncio.gather(*processed_tasks)

Define devices and run

devices = ["sensor1", "sensor2", "sensor3"] asyncio.run(main(devices))

import paho.mqtt.client as mqtt

Callback functions for MQTT client

def on_connect(client, userdata, flags, rc): print("Connected to MQTT Broker with result code", str(rc)) client.subscribe("device/data")

def on_message(client, userdata, msg): print(f"Received {msg.payload.decode()} from {msg.topic} topic")

def publish_data(client, device_id, data): topic = f"device/{device_id}/data" client.publish(topic, data) print(f"{device_id} published data: {data}")

Initialize MQTT client

client = mqtt.Client() client.on_connect = on_connect client.on_message = on_message

client.connect("broker.hivemq.com", 1883, 60) # Public broker for testing

Example of publishing device data

client.loop_start() publish_data(client, "sensor1", "Temperature: 23°C") client.loop_stop() client.disconnect()

import time

class Device: def init(self, device_id): self.device_id = device_id self.power_mode = "active" # Modes: active, low-power, sleepdef set_power_mode(self, mode): self.power_mode = mode print(f"{self.device_id} set to {self.power_mode} mode.") def perform_task(self): if self.power_mode == "active": print(f"{self.device_id} performing task.") elif self.power_mode == "low-power": print(f"{self.device_id} in low-power mode, skipping task.") elif self.power_mode == "sleep": print(f"{self.device_id} is asleep.")

Simulate device activity

device = Device("sensor1") device.set_power_mode("active") device.perform_task()

Transition to low-power mode after task

time.sleep(1) device.set_power_mode("low-power") device.perform_task()

Transition to sleep mode

time.sleep(1) device.set_power_mode("sleep") device.perform_task()

import asyncio

Event triggers

class Event: def init(self): self._event = asyncio.Event()async def wait(self): await self._event.wait() self._event.clear() def trigger(self): self._event.set()

Task function that listens to an event trigger

async def task(name, event): print(f"{name} waiting for event.") await event.wait() print(f"{name} activated!")

async def main(): event = Event() asyncio.create_task(task("Task1", event))# Simulate event trigger await asyncio.sleep(2) print("Event triggered!") event.trigger()

asyncio.run(main())

[camvrin]

spit balling 🤓

self depreciation aside I'm AWARE that I'm one of the most generous and caring people you could come across if you're not a terrible person

and I will try and be there for you even if I don't like you

so sending me death threats over something that isn't even true when I literally looked out for you is a crazy thing to do 😭

[cloudbends]

Oh god. OH GOD.

[ayakashibackstreet]

Incredible how I used to play games for 12 hours straight and my eyes were fine but now they're just Fucked Up for no reason

[emile-hides]

when the theater guy WHAT

I went to see the FNaF Movie today and seeing as I have a total of Zero friends in real world event range and both of my parents hate horror I had to go to the theater by myself for the very first time in my life, which was fine. Until it wasn't

The dude in charge of ticket checks stops me and instead of asking to see a ticket asks if the mask I was wearing was part of some costume. Little black cloth face mask, covid thing. He was an old man on a scooter and not wanting to have a discussion with this tiny old man about Covid19 I just went along with it and said sure yeah. It kind of was anyway, it has a little bear mouth on it and I was wearing Bear Ears and a brown cardigan as well.

Man goes "You can't wear a mask in here." I say "Why not?" He says "You can't wear a mask in here." I go, "I heard that part. Why Not. "Policy, I don't make the rules, just enforce them." I realize this man is being paid minimum wage to sit here and police people so I go, "Okay." and walk past him because he's just some guy in a little scooter in the middle of the atrium and he hasn't asked for my ticket so I assume that's Not His Job

He calls me back for my ticket so I take out my phone with the QR code with my ticket on it and he takes my phone to (I assumed) scan the code and then he pulls out his walkie and calls his manager and I realize very quickly he is not scanning my ticket and I want to Leave Now.

"Can I have my phone back?" "When my manager gets here."

"Give me my phone back." "When my manager gets here."

"Bill. Give me. My Phone." "As soon as my manager gets here"

I make a swipe to grab my phone from him and this tiny little 60 something man in a scooter in the middle of a theater atrium as the audacity to hold it back over his head like I am a Toddler he is preventing from grabbing at a knife.

I am now having a panic attack.

Manager walks over and I am a broken little Autistic man who just wanted to watch a Bad Horror Movie (it was actually pretty good) so I scream at this lanky probably 30-something in the middle of a Cinemark Theater Atrium with many a random bystander around "TELL HIM. TO GIVE ME. MY PHONE."

I swipe my phone from Bill's hand, full turn, and bolt out the door half way across the parking lot and call my mother in a heap on the sidewalk.

It's a very good thing the Five Nights at Freddy's movie was way better than I was expecting or today would have been awful.

[coleslaww]

Putting this all in the tags cause it's some heavy stuff. TW for drug abuse, assault and suicide.

people with siblings: how do you feel about them?

[synvil]

light as a feather // bf! rafe cameron

synopsis : you hesitant to ask your boyfriend to try a trend your friends show you, afraid of being too heavy, but he proves you wrong. mentions of insecurity.

“have you seen this trend around, [name]?”

tilting her phone towards you so you can view the screen better, a tiktok compilation began to play.

it’s a compilation of various couples with pretty much the same thing, all the boyfriends lifting their partners onto their shoulders, while an audio edit of rihanna’s breakin’ dishes plays in the background.

“uh, i think I’ve seen one or two of it. why?” you ask, pulling your cup to your lips and taking a sip through the straw. “have you considered asking rafe to try it with you?” kie asks and you furrow your brows. “why would i do that?”

“because it’s fun! you can see if rafe is strong.” kie laughs as sarah pulls out her own phone and the two girls scroll through their device. “we did it too!”

in sync, the two turn their phones your way and the audio plays, with john b lifting sarah while she crosses her leg and flashes a confident smile, while jj does the same for kie, with the two grinning proudly and laughing in the video.

the sight makes you smile as you chuckle and pull away. “how cute.”

“c’mon, you should try it with rafe! make a video and send it to us and we can post it on our socials~!” sarah beams and you sigh, swirling your beverage. “i don’t know, rafe isn’t really into the stuff.. and besides i might be too heavy for him.”

“don’t be silly, rafe is probably stronger than both john b and jj, honestly.” kie grunts out, not particularly thrilled about her compliment to rafe but you laugh at that.

“maybe, but still.. we’ll see.”

“hey, rafe?”

“yeah, baby?” glancing up from his phone, his eyes travel to you standing from the doorway of the living room entrance and you smile faintly, taking a stride towards your boyfriend seated on the couch.

instinctively, he opens his arms and you climb into his lap and pull out your phone. “have you seen this?” you show him the same compilation video from earlier.

rafe watches it and scrunches his nose briefly before returning to his normal neutral expression. “yeah, what about it? topper told me about it. he struggled lifting ruthie a bit.” he scoffs.

“can we try it?..” the hesitance in your voice makes him confused. “why are you being so shy about it, baby?”

your lips unconsciously curl into a small frown as you rest on his chest. “I don’t know.. I might be too heavy for you.. but kie and sarah want me to do this tiktok thing and-“

rafe suddenly brings his hands to your hips, firmly gripping the flesh before standing up and lifting you with ease into the air, high up making you squeal and clutch onto him. “rafe!”

your boyfriend grins at your reaction as he carefully places you onto his shoulder, hand resting atop of your thighs while the other holds yours to steady you.

“don’t underestimate me again, sweetheart. you’re light as a feather.”

bonus : you managed to convince rafe to do it for a tiktok video, even though he wasn’t particularly excited about recording himself doing it, he did it anyways to make you happy.

as the audio plays, rafe tosses you up and lands you in his shoulder without so much of a flinch, and he’s smirking while you hide your flushed face in embarrassment.

sending the video to kie and sarah, the three of you posted your individual videos to your socials and garnered quite the view count.

rafe who saw, hums curiously. “i suppose doing more to expand your followers couldn’t hurt.”

a/n : hope you enjoy! i’m tryna think of tiktok trends lol these short things w rafe seem so cute :)) let me know your thoughts! <3

[malusokay]

becoming a better student ₊˚⊹♡

Prepare for your classes ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Wake up on time. We don't want to be stressed first thing in the morning, right?

Eat breakfast. So you will be able to better focus in class.

Assigned reading and homework. Make sure you are prepared for your classes!! :)

Review your notes. Going through some of your flashcards before class is really helpful.

Check your bag and charge your devices. Ensure you have everything you need: Books, homework, chargers, pens, water...

In Class ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Listen and pay attention. You can save yourself a lot of trouble by simply paying attention, trust me.

Take notes. My favourite note-taking method is the Cornell method; I can make a separate post on that!! <3

"Quick notes." If you struggle with note-taking, try taking quick and messy notes. You can clean them up once you get home!!

Engage. If you have any questions or don't understand something, make sure to ask!! Most teachers really appreciate students who speak up. :)

No distractions. Turn off your phone, no chatting, you'll be glad...

After class ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Finish your assignments as soon as you can. Go home, put on a cosy outfit, have a snack, and get working!! <3

Prepare flash cards. A great way of reviewing your notes, too... :)

Update your Study schedule. Write down any assignment and due dates, reading you must do, upcoming tests, etc...

Clean up your notes. Review them, highlight the important parts, and maybe even make them look cute!! :)

Don't avoid topics/Subjects you dislike. I know it is tempting, but you can't avoid them forever, so you might as well get them done

Structure and routine ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Goals and Priorities. Keep them realistic and manageable.

Time management. Having a set schedule makes studying less overwhelming; it takes some discipline but is so worth it!! <3

Develop a routine. Figure out what works best for you; I prefer studying in the morning or at night.

No "zero days". Even if you can only do a bit, do it!! NO. ZERO. DAYS.

Remember your goals. Dreams will keep you motivated; remind yourself of what you're working for!! <3

Self-care and balance ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Don't forget about your hobbies. You need to do things that make you happy, so make time for those things!!

Maintain a balanced diet. I know chocolates and junk are tempting, especially when you are busy studying all day, but you're not doing yourself any favours.

Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. 8 Hours. Non-negotiable.

Exercise regularly. Even if it's just a walk, put on some headphones, listen to music, and give yourself a break. <3

Care for your social life. Reach out to your friends, make plans, and keep in touch; a good work-life balance is critical!!

Romanticising ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Study dates. Meet up with your friends at a cosy cafe, discuss your work, and have some fun!! Studying doesn't have to be all serious all the time ;)

Silly Pinterest boards. Visualising your goals will help you find motivation!!

Music to set the mood. I have a bunch of playlists on my Spotify that might help!! <3

Cosy sweater and candles. The cosy Rory Gilmore vibes haha...

Getting a coffee before class. A little treat before things get serious... Simple pleasures, you know? :)

Babes, The hiatus is OVER, and I'm finally back!! I got a lot of asks on studying, burnout, and school in general, so I thought, why not start off with a little student guide?? I Hope October has been kind to you, and school hasn't been too overwhelming (though I know it, unfortunately, has been for many of you), and I'm glad to finally be back!! <33

As always, Please feel free to add your own suggestions and tips in the comments!!

✩‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧✩

[reidmotif]

I’ve Got My Eye On You

Summary: Reader is a Special Surveillance agent assigned to spy on Spencer. He manages to see through her cover, and thoroughly enjoys the confrontation that follows.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: voyeurism, oral (f!receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, f!masturbation, slight dubcon regarding recorded sex, heavily based on that one scene in scandal, iykyk.

Word Count: 3.5k

Masterlist

I’d always been good at watching people. 

My life had been spent mostly to myself, divulging the information people offered without even realizing. When you talk less, you learn that body language, passing remarks, or even the quirk of an eyebrow gives away more than anyone ever realized– maybe more than an actual conversation at times. 

And I took it all in stride, not a single detail left unanalyzed. People were always surprised when I’d mention my observations, finding a way to explain a seemingly unexplainable situation, those around me wondering how on Earth I could’ve been privy to that. I’d always shrug at their queries. 

Pay more attention, I guess. 

It wasn’t a surprise that I’d ended up here, I suppose, in the end, as an Investigative Specialist for the FBI. I doubt that my listening skills were exactly what landed me the job, but I’d like to believe they contributed more than they actually did. Regardless, I’d never expected the result of the decisions I’d made over the years to lead to this– involved in spying on an agent of our own. 

The infamous "Dr Reid".

His specific circumstances had been shrouded in secrecy and mystery, apparently having just been let out of prison. (Prison? How’s he an agent then? Anyway, not my problem).

 The Bureau had been curious about erratic behavior on his part, and the string of discrepancies involving the unit he was involved in. Apparently, there had been multiple unforeseen and unprecedented events all occurring under the same team in a relatively small time-frame, and despite smaller investigations, nothing came out of them to warrant any real disciplinary action.  Probably why they brought me in, in the hopes of changing that. 

I’d been assigned to put up small, virtually undetectable cameras and listening devices within his apartment. 24/7 home surveillance, no exceptions. I couldn’t help but think that the guy really should invest in better apartment security, despite how easy his naivete made my job. His lack of caution surprised me, given the details I’d been given. For a guy who had a penchant for being framed by the ghosts of his past, he sure didn’t live like it.  Even as an FBI agent, he essentially had no technology to counter my own, and the height of his protection was a standard deadbolt. Was he insane? Unaware, somehow? Only time would tell, I suppose. And I had plenty of that, to watch and deduce the nature of his mind on my own terms. 

My time spent with Spencer resulted in one, overwhelming conclusion. Spencer Reid lived a relatively quiet life. His apartment was barely used, honestly, given the sporadic nature of his job. (Which was a shame, in my opinion, because it’s a nice apartment).  When he was at home, he seemed to remain quite unassuming. The positions I’d see him assume often were that of being hunched over on an aging leather sofa, pouring himself into grading papers, or creating lesson plans for his students. Oh, right. Did I mention he was also a professor? He is. I’d assume he likes the job, given how much of himself he gives into it, or maybe that was just who he was as a person. I wasn’t sure yet. 

I monitored his life outside of the apartment occasionally as well, just to see what intel I could gather with further investigation. There wasn’t much. Coffee shops. Book shops. Coffee. Books. Coffee- God, does the guy do anything else with his life? 

Most days, though, I’d liken him to butter spread too thinly over toast. Sleepless from nightmares that would have him walking around his apartment until daylight broke through the window panes. I felt exhausted just watching the guy, and it seemed insane that he could continue to live on when he left that apartment at the break of dawn. It didn’t seem like he had anyone to talk to, honestly. From what I was seeing, he wasn’t a threat to the Bureau, just a sad, middle-aged man who’d been dealt the most unfair of hands in life. 

I’m sure there’s a moral somewhere in all that. To waste your potential on something that gives so little back. Oh, well. My report was nearly finished at this point, and the most I could recommend the higher-ups was to get Spencer a better therapist, maybe. This one wasn’t really helping, it seemed. Besides that, his personal behavior wasn’t indicative of anything worrying to the interests of those managing him. 

At long last, it was my final night of watching him. Coincidentally, the date lined up with Halloween, and I couldn’t be more thrilled to finally be free of this specific survey job. Don’t get me wrong, Spencer seemed nice- but God, his life was boring. I don’t want to say it was like watching paint dry,  out of respect, but previous targets had offered at least some part of their life to be interested within. Spencer had nothing. No friends over, no gossip-like phone conversations, no drunk wanderings home. Nothing! I know he didn’t sign up to be watched, but God. 

Like, come on. Give me anything here. 

Needless to say, I’d become accustomed to the quiet, and this night was no different. If he was following schedule, he should be home right about … now. 

Now? 

Now… 

Silence. 

Spencer was definitely a creature of habit, so to not see him adhere to the routine he’d so meticulously stuck to in the past was a bit jarring, but I assumed he was just running late. 

A few hours later, I reasoned he must be running really really late. It was bordering on midnight, and he still wasn’t home. I checked train schedules, possible reports of a car crash, just about anything that could keep him from his scheduled appearance at home. 

I was just about to call my supervisor to look into whether or not he’d been called out on a surprise case, but that’s when the door of his apartment creaked open, and I felt my shoulders deflate in relief. Okay, he was home. He was going to go to bed and- 

He wasn’t alone. 

Spencer was dressed in all black, a leather belt adorned with a gold belt buckle being the only color his outfit brought. He wore tiny devil’s ears upon his head, the headband pushing down on the mop of curls that sat atop his head. He looked absolutely delicious, if I must say myself, and it seemed the woman in his arms would agree with me. 

He practically pulled her into his apartment, kicking his door in with his leg before slightly fumbling with the lock. As soon as the mechanism slipped into place, his hands were all over her, pressing her flush against his body, as if he couldn’t bear to have any space between them. 

For all the time I’d been watching him, none of his behavior indicated the presence of any kind of significant other, so this girl must be a stranger. If this is how Spencer treated strangers though, I was surprised he didn’t have a barrage of women lining up at his door every night. 

His lips absolutely devoured the girl, his hand cradling the side of her face, before his thigh slipped in between her legs, possibly to soothe a building ache that had built up there in the time they’d spent together, which I found entirely possible, considering I, personally, was heated from simply watching. 

I watched the pixels on the screen with such precision, innocuous shades of red, green and blue painting the most sinful of images. I found myself noting the way his hand snuck up the girls’ dress, the way her breathing hitched as she pulled back, watching as Spencer presumably played with her clit. I could feel myself squeezing my thighs together, recognizing just how wrong it was to be turned on by the scene in front of me, but I couldn’t stop myself. It wasn’t as if this was the first time a target had behaved sexually in front of me. (Or in front of the camera, I suppose.) I’d seen and heard just about anything you could think of, but this was different- in a way. To see Spencer so filthy, so confident, so- interesting. It lit a fire in me that burned with every passing moment he touched this girl. 

I’m able to watch him circle over her panties in a way that has her groaning directly into his ear, a smug grin plastering his face as he watches her every reaction. 

“Like that?” He murmurs, and I’ve never heard his voice so fucking deep.

She nods frantically, and it only serves to widen his grin. I can feel myself rocking slightly in my own chair, doing anything to try and soothe the fast growing arousal within me, unable to stop from imagining myself in her place. His hands, the feel of hot breath down my neck- 

I’m stopped dead in my tracks, however, when his eyes suddenly shift to the camera closest to him, his eyebrow raising, as if in challenge. He continues to whisper in the girl’s ear, and has the galls to wink. I’m horrified, a very sudden and intense heat rising to my cheeks. I can only watch for a second more, before he’s suddenly pulling her away, and I realize he’s taken her  within one of the only blind spots within the apartment. 

I’m scrambling to turn off the feed, stunned into silence whilst, my heart beating uncontrollably and eccentrically. Oh god. He knew. He knew and he did that?! 

I stare into the empty space, a multitude of thoughts inhabiting my brainscape. On one hand, the aplomb shown in that situation was commendable, since most people would react to the knowledge that they’d been secretly watched in their own home for the past few months in a much more hostile way. On the other hand, how did he even acquire that knowledge? The cameras were virtually undetectable, and he’d never let on that he was aware of their presence, and I’d know, considering how closely I’d watched him. 

I shake off the thoughts, focusing on something other than the overwhelming mortification coursing through me now.  

Alright, tomorrow, get into his apartment, remove the cameras, and hopefully never have to look at the man again. In any capacity, honestly. 

When daylight broke, I turned on the cameras for the final time, a bit more sheepish, knowing he was aware of the devices plaguing his home. However, it seemed like he was once again pretending like he wasn’t aware of the looming existence of them, sending his female companion off her merry way once they woke up, before going about his normal routine, heading out of the apartment for what was most likely his morning coffee and then afternoon lecture at the university. 

That was my cue. I turned off the cameras,  quickly making my way out to sneak into his residence, the heavy door offering little resistance to my advances, my movements quiet and undetectable. 

I’m  in the process of removing the final camera I had placed in his bedroom, hidden behind a copy of  The Sign of Four. Doyle. He had good taste, I could give him that. 

I’m just about to turn around and get the hell out of there, when I hear a voice behind me. 

“I noticed that one first, you know.”

I turn around slowly, embarrassed and slightly fearful to find Spencer’s eyes meeting mine. I’d watched him for so long, but seeing him now– his eyes were so beautiful. The camera didn’t do him justice.

He continues, despite the silence. “The other ones were harder to spot, I’ll give you that, but once I knew where they were, it was a bit obvious, don’t you think?” 

I’m speechless. My mouth is agape, and all he seems to do is smile at my lack of prose. 

“Don’t look so surprised. I know this apartment. I’m not here a lot, but I spend enough time to know when things have been shifted around.” His tone is cheeky, and he pauses, almost theatrically to add on:

“I’m sure you knew that though.”  His smile turns into more of a smirk. 

God, did he have to be so hot?

“Are you going to complain to the Bureau?” I manage out, keeping my eyes steady on him. 

“Did you find anything of note to tell them?” He responds, tilting his head with curiosity. 

I shake my head vehemently. “No, um. Nothing pertinent to say.” I get my words out in a hurry, my gaze continually trained on him. 

He meets my eyes with the same stare. “Then I don’t have much of a reason to complain.” 

I nod solemnly. I’m wondering where this situation will lead- what either of our next moves are. Before I can ponder long though, he surprises me and takes a step closer.

“I saw you, you know.” He says. “Thought I was going insane when the same pretty girl kept showing up at the bookstore and coffee shop out of the blue, but I’ve never been one to believe in coincidences.” 

“Oh.” I whisper. I really wasn’t as good as I thought I was. 

“You really shouldn’t beat yourself up.” He says, chuckling with some mirth. “Again, I’m observant. I notice these things. That, and you’re pretty.” He says, forward. “So, more of a reason to notice.” 

“Oh.” I reply, yet again, dumbfounded by the events currently transpiring. 

“Yes, oh.” He chuckles, before he starts to move closer yet again. “Tell me. Were you watching last night?” He murmurs, his voice dropping a bit deeper as he directly addresses the elephant in the room. 

I give a movement of affirmation, because at this point, what could he do? What could I do? 

“So you saw.” He mumbles, moving to position himself right in front of me, his eyes darkened and laser focused on my figure. 

“Yes.” I whisper, my voice hushed as our proximity decreased, his breath fanning out over my face now. I’d be uncomfortable, if I wasn’t so distracted. 

“Tell me.” He whispers, letting his calloused finger finally touch my skin, running down my neck. “Did it turn you on? Watching me with her?” 

I feel the familiar heat of embarrassment rise to my cheeks, my eyes suddenly widening not only due to the sudden proximity, but also the scandalous nature of his words. Did he mean for me to watch? Was that his plan all along? What was this sick and twisted game he was playing?

“Did it.. get you off?” He whispers, his lips leaning in to kiss lightly at the side of my neck where his finger once was. 

I freeze, leaning into his touch and going statue-like all at once. I can’t help the shakiness of my voice when I reply. “I.. wasn’t neutral.” 

“Mm.” He murmurs, kissing now at my jawline. “Did you get off? When she did?” He whispers.

“I didn’t watch that long.” I reply, helplessly, as I feel his hands start to envelop my waist, pulling me closer to him. 

“What a shame.” He mumbles. “I think you would’ve liked the show. I did it for you.” 

At this point, I can barely speak, a slight moan escaping me instead of a coherent reply as his lips continue to leave warm, wet kisses on the expanse of my flesh. 

“I’m sure you’re curious.” He says, his voice soft and seductive. “Would you like me to show you what we did?”

There’s no hesitation, finally, a resounding thought I can translate from brain-to-mouth for him, in complete certainty.

“Yes.” I manage out, breathlessly. 

He makes a noise of satisfaction, quickly pushing me onto the bed. 

“I’d already gotten her wet by touching her before, but if my suspicions are correct.” He murmurs, his hands working deftly to undo my jeans and feel the wetness that had accumulated in between my thighs. “You already are.” He finishes. 

I let out a small whimper as his fingers touch the heated flesh, unable to help my sensitivity to his small, calculated strokes over my clit through my underwear. His fingers starts to move a bit more aggressively, upon feeling the wet patch that had formed there, the flimsy fabric doing little to hide the stickiness he was now collecting on his fingers. He quickly pulls them off as well though, bringing his slightly damp fingers to his mouth, tasting the hint of my arousal that had accumulated there. His eyes were dark, watching my face for any reaction, and in that moment, I know all he can see is pure want. 

I can see the same hunger within his eyes, and I feel a rush of pride as the approval radiates off of him. 

“What next?” I whisper, already desperate for his next slew of ministrations. I don’t care how needy I looked. I was needy. I’d spent so long watching him, and now he was here.

“She wanted my mouth.” He murmurs, kneeling at the edge of the bed. His thumb brushes over my clit, his tongue running against plump, pink lips, wetting them, watching over me with a predatory gaze. 

Before I can respond, he’s suddenly everywhere, ducking his head and allowing his tongue to brush over my sex in broad, wet strokes. My response is immediate, my hips bucking up to meet him in a frenzied motion. It seems that he relishes in whatever control he can have in this situation, because he quickly holds down my hips in a firm grip, squeezing the fat there while he continued to ravage me. 

I can barely look at him, pretty brown locks splayed in his face, his lips moving hypnotically against my cunt. Little whimpers escape me, absolutely aching for more. He seems to catch on, and flicks his tongue over me, before suckling against my clit. It’s wet, messy, and the picture of debauchery– and it’s enough to drive me over the edge, my hands gripping the sheets as I cry out his name. 

He seems to be unaffected, getting off his knees, his mouth glistening with my release. The sight makes me wish he could do it again, but before I can get a word in, he’s positioning himself over me, caging me against the bed. 

“Then I fucked her.” He whispers, starting to undo his belt with his free hand. “Can I?” 

I nod, feeling a wave of anticipation, before registering the sensation of the head of his cock nudging my entrance. I feel my chest tighten, watching him with bated breath, absolutely exhilarated. 

“Relax.” He whispers, kissing the lobe of my ear. “You’re in good hands.” 

He utters the last word, before sliding into me, a hushed gasp leaving the both of us. He groans in pleasure, his eyes fluttering shut as he takes in the feel of my warm, wet cunt around him. He takes a moment, before he’s setting a steady pace, his hips bucking rhythmically into me in a way that’s designed to bring us both so much pleasure. 

I can’t help the string of moans that come out with every slide of his cock inside me, my legs wrapping around his waist, urging him closer than he already is. My hands grip onto his shirt, clawing onto the fabric to find any purchase, wanting– no, needing him on me. 

Is it odd to wish a stranger could crawl into your skin itself? 

“Fuck, Spencer.” I moan, unabashedly. “You feel so good.”

“You do too.” He groans, his arms braced on either side of my head before gently lowering himself to crash his lips against mine in a messy kiss. 

I can feel myself barreling towards release, as is he, if the twitch of his cock inside me were to mean anything. It’s not long before his hand reaches in between where our bodies are met, rubbing my clit in fast, small circles. It’s intense in the best way possible, my body barely being able to process how good it felt in the moment. 

“Come for me.” He moans, in between kisses. “Wanna feel you around me. Please.”

I can’t help but obey his words, my cunt convulsing around him in obedience as he subsequently finds his release inside me, groaning loudly as his hips thrust erratically. 

He pulls out, and we’re a tangle of limbs, sweaty and sated, breathing heavy. 

Of course, it’s him, yet again, to break the silence. 

“Two things.” He mumbles, breathlessly. 

“Mm.” I reply, weakly, my head a mess of airiness and complacency after the orgasm he’d just brought me to. 

“One. I want your name.” He says, rolling to his side to get a better look at my face. 

“That can be arranged.” I murmur, nodding dreamily. 

“Second.” He whispers, kissing my cheek. His voice takes on a teasing quality to it, before leaning to brush his lips against my ear.  

“You missed a camera. Behind the plant. They don’t stop recording, do they?” 

okay wowww. clearly this was meant for halloween, if you couldn't tell! this is one of those pieces where i'm like.. hmm .. do i like this? question mark? do i want to put it out? hmm .. but regardless, i hope you guys enjoyed it!! please, please like, reblog, and comment if you enjoyed!!! it is sooo important as an author that i get some feedback and know what you guys think, in any capacity. i truly appreciate all of it <33 thank you for reading, thank you for everything!!!

[clowningclownn]

laptop fucked itself in the ass (I fucked it while trying to fix my audio driver issue) and I had to reinstall windows which guess what! solved my audio driver issues, so it all really worked out in the end lol

boy do I love just hard resetting electronics because that literally fixes 90% of persistent issues you may be experiencing

[fmb158581]

Chocolate Chip Cookies

“Did you seriously bring chocolate chip cookies on a mission?”,  Dick scoffed. Jason stayed silent. He really didn't want to give his brother the satisfaction of the answer, so he stayed silent while his older brother ranted.

“I mean, we are literally about to take out Two-Faces men and you are chomping down on cookies. Loudly I will remind you. Are they Alfreds?” Dick reached into the baggie full of the sweet treat when Jason finally snapped. 

“These are my cookies. My girl made them.” Jason realized his mistake as soon as the words slipped out of his mouth. It is common knowledge among the bat family that y/n’s cookies are to die for. “Gimme Gimme Gimme one! Like today, right now!” Dick tackled Jason, almost pushing him over the ledge of the building. Jason balanced himself and wrestled his sibling back. What both the boys didn't know or even notice while fighting over the beloved sweets was Damian sneaking up behind them. Dick was on top of Jason, but Jason's hand was out so far Dick couldn't reach them, but the small boy sneaking up on them could. As Jason prepared to bite his older brother, he felt a tug on the bag and it slipped out of his grip. Jason yelped and saw Damian running away, jumping from one building to another, slowly getting closer to the ground using fire escapes. Dick continued to wrestle Jason, not realizing the cookies were gone. Jason finally managed to pin him down, showing Nightwing that the cookies had vanished with their youngest brother. Dick pushed Jason off of him and raced after Robin. Two-Face’s men are long forgotten, and the two brothers race after Damian. They checked their trackers to see when the young bat had gone, only to run into Tim and Cass patrolling a nearby area. 

“Why are you two running? Were you not supposed to be ambushing?” Tim asked. 

“We have bigger fish to fry Tim, Damian stole my cookies!” Jason spat out. He looked at Tim and Cass. 

“Just cookies Jason. Why so important?” Cass whispered. Tim slowly realized why they were so important. 

“There Y/N’s aren't they?” His face lit up. He slowly turned and then sprinted in the direction Damian had run. The whole group raced after Tim. They jumped from building to building until they lost their youngest sibling’s tracks. He had turned off his location and there was only one person who could turn it back on. Their father. None of them wanted to put him in the loop, so they played fish in a bowl. 

“Ha, you lose Tim!” Jason shouted! 

“But Grayson’s hand was clearly still out!” Shouted Tim. 

“No, it wasn't! You lose Tim! You have to call Bats!” Dick stated surely. While the boys argued, none of them noticed their only sister slipping into the darkness. She raced from building to building, relying on her senses to find their father. He was on the Wayne Tech. tower. She snuck up behind him, trying to scare him. But before she could, he started to talk. 

“Whats wrong Batgirl?” Batman said darkly. Cass has always wondered how he could do it. Using all of his senses to be aware of his surroundings. Cassandra mustered up her courage and said three simple words.

“Damian. Cookies. Lost.” If it were anyone else, they would be confused but this is her father. He always knew what she wanted even when she couldn't express it fully. He looked at the tracking device on his arm, turned on Damian’s device, and looked at his only daughter. 

“He is at her house.” He said not looking up and the only thing he saw was the city before him. He smirked, knowing his daughter took after him. 

Back at the sight of the argument between brothers, they finally decided that their father would listen better to his daughter rather than the three boys that drove him up a wall. But when they started to look up to talk to Cass, they realized she wasn't there. They all started to freak out, not realizing that their tracking device was working yet again. 

“Where did Bat Girl go?” Tim looked around.

“She must have left,” Dick said. 

“Whose gonna call the bat now?” Jason whispered. He threw his hands above his head, frustrated with his siblings when he saw it, The location on his arm. He slowly started to back up towards the edge of the wall while his brothers argued with each other. He had just gotten to the edge when they realized what he already knew. 

“It's back on!” The two boys shouted racing to beat each other to the address, but Jason was already beating him. They swung from building to building, running on rooftops, trying to get to her house. When they got to the building, they raised down the fire escape to her window. Jason made it there first but got distracted by the sight. It was Y/N cooking while Cass and Damian sat at the table eating cookies and drinking milk. The room had a soft glow to it, highlighting every beautiful feature of her. Before Jason got to bask in her glow, Tim and Dick were opening the window and pushing forward into the apartment. They climbed through the window followed by Jason. 

“Look what the cat dragged in!” Damian laughed, a rarity for the young boy. The girl Jason was staring at in wonder looked up and finally made eye contact with the three boys.

“I was thinking you boys were lost. I am making more cookies if you want some!” She looked at each of them and finally looked at Jason. 

“Hey, hun.” She said, putting the bowl of cookie batter down. She didn't even care that the remaining siblings ran to the bowl to get some cookie dough. She crossed the room to get to him keeping eye contact with him. She finally reached him and he hugged her, wrapping his arms around her. She placed her head under his chin. 

“I’m sorry about the crazies I brought with me.” He said, feeling ashamed. She started to laugh, her body shaking in his arms. She looked up and him and smiled. 

“I don't mind, this place gets a little lonely. My boyfriend works at night. I wonder why?” She giggled. Looking him in the eye. He started to smile. 

“He sounds like a real tool”, He said with a smile, “Mind if I take his place tonight?” She pondered the idea. 

“Jason, I would love for you to stay with me.” She smirked. She went on her tippytoes and finally gave him a kiss. As the group hung out and ate cookies, they didn't realize the person staring at them from a different building. Batman looked upon the dysfunctional crew and he smiled. He thought about how Jason’s girlfriend really brought out a new side of all his kids. Dick gave less worried looks towards Jason. The girl was giving giving decaf coffee to Tim, allowing him to sleep better at night. Cass was learning how to say more words, and feeling more confident with y/n’s help. Damian was smiling and being a kid more often. And finally, Jason was happier, shining every time the girl was mentioned. Batman was happy his son had found his forever person, even if he didn't know it yet.

[pathologicalreid]

spring into summer | s.r.

in which Spencer pursues a relationship with you. you try to resist every advance - for your own protection.

[previously]

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angsty content warnings: blowing smoke part tew, at a bar but it's not specified whether or not reader drinks alcohol, kissing, if you have a problem with my bar music keep it to yourself, maeve as a plot device, love confessions, not edited word count: 2.25k a/n: y'all i wasn't gonna do this, but listening to this song... yeah i had to.

“Spencer’s here!” Penelope exclaimed from her bar stool, her heels clicking on her way to the front of the bar, hoping to lead Spencer through the crowd to where the team had decided to set up shop.

Your head snapped up in alarm, tilting your head to the side and trying to get JJ’s attention, “I didn’t think Spencer was coming out tonight.”

She frowned slightly, placing her glass on the bar and shrugging, “It was an open invite.”

An open invite that you extended to the guy you’re seeing. You huffed, pulling the strap of your dress back over your shoulder and flagging down the bartender, hoping to get a drink before you need to play defense against Spencer.

“Hey,” Ethan said from behind you, a cute guy from counterterrorism that Penelope had introduced you to. His hand sat comfortably on your waist as you got the bartender’s attention again, letting him know that you’d actually need two drinks.

You smiled back at him, panicking slightly when he leaned in to kiss you. Evading his kiss, you let his lips land on your cheek, turning your head so that you were facing Spencer.

The two of you had as little contact as you could manage in the past two months, ever since Spencer’s attempt to ask you out had gone completely awry. Of course, ceasing all contact was unavoidable, between work and Spencer’s continued pursuance, you continuously found yourself under his net.

Ethan squeezed your waist gently, taking the glass that the bartender had placed in front of him and grabbing a straw for yours. You thanked him, crushing the straw wrapper against the bar and taking a sip.

Admittedly, you weren’t interested in the guy in the slightest. The second time you went out together, he’d gotten your name wrong, but he was friends with Penelope’s crush, so you were trying to be a good sport.

It felt like the world was playing a cruel joke on you, pairing you with someone who couldn’t be bothered to remember your name while you were trying to shut out a guy who remembered your favorite flower from a conversation three years ago. Yesterday, you’d found a bouquet on your desk for the third Thursday in a row.

Every time you read the card that he sends with the arrangement, you almost forget yourself. It would be a waste for you to get rid of them, which is the only reason you’ve kept them on your desk.

Or so you keep telling yourself.

“You look nice,” Spencer whispered to you, reaching between you and JJ so he could grab his drink from the bar. He looked good, you noticed him against your better judgment, even the embroidery on his tie managed to catch your attention.

Before you could collect yourself enough to respond to him, Morgan had already pulled him back to a booth, putting an arm around his shoulders and pointing out different girls in the bar while Savannah rolled her eyes. His hair was growing out from the undercut that he’d debuted in the fall, falling in front of his eyes until he inevitably flicked the stray hairs away.

Peeling your eyes off of him, you looked back at Ethan, who’d already made his way through half his drink. His eyes were glued to the baseball game being displayed above the bar. If your date had noticed you ogling your coworker, he didn’t show it.

Tentatively, you tapped his stool gently with your toe, “Hey,” you tried to get his attention, batting your eyelashes. “Do you wanna go over to the jukebox with me? We can pick a song together,” you offered.

He frowned and shook his head, “Nah, the Nationals game is on.” He nodded his head up to the TV, refraining from sparing you a glance.

You looked up at the screen, they were at the bottom of the second inning, and you were in for an exhausting night. “Right,” you said flatly, “I’ll be right back.”

Sharing a look with Penelope, who shot you a supportive thumbs up from the other side of the bar, you got off your stool and adjusted your purse over your shoulder. You liked that this bar still had a real jukebox, as opposed to the updated touchscreens commonly found in bars nowadays. You dug through your purse for a quarter, half paying attention to your rummaging and using the rest of your brain power to study the available songs.

A few things caught your eye, most of the available tracks were classics—Journey, Queen, and a Meatloaf track that was suspiciously out of order. Probably because the song was over eight minutes long. “Here,” the familiar voice—that you’d been trying to avoid—spoke.

Spencer held a quarter out for you, leaving the coin displayed in his palm until you graciously accepted it. “Thanks,” you said, “Do you have any suggestions?” You expertly dodged his attempt at eye contact, sliding the quarter into its slot and reading through the titles again. Pressing your lips in a thin line while you ignored the way he was leaning over the jukebox.

“Why did you ask him to come out?” He asked, pointing at one of the songs and chuckling when you shook your head. He should’ve known better than to actually make a request. After all, you were just being polite.

You squinted at a title, worn with time, and you distracted yourself with the task of reading it. “I didn’t know you were coming with us,” you muttered, refusing to let your curiosity get the better of you and resisting the urge to just select the worn button. “You don’t usually like this bar,” you reminded him. You couldn’t remember the last time Spencer went out to a bar that wasn’t O’Keefe’s.

He hummed next to you, standing so close that you could feel his body heat intermingling with your own. “So,” he started, “You wouldn’t have asked him to go out if you had known I was going to be here.”

“I didn’t say that,” you told him, your eyes flickering to the side. Not enough to see his face, but enough to notice that he’d taken off his suit jacket, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

“You might as well have,” he returned, watching as you finally chose a Fleetwood Mac song, concluding that you’d either have to choose a song you didn’t want or waste Spencer’s quarter.

You peeked around him, your date still preoccupied with the sporting event. Even so, you tried to make your way around Spencer, but he grabbed your elbow and held you back.

There was nothing forceful in his action. If you wanted to snatch your arm away and stalk away from him, he wasn’t going to stop you, but you found yourself interested in staying with him. It would be worth your while to stay with someone who was begging for your attention rather than return to the bar to beg for someone else’s.

Spencer looked around, mindful of the members of your team who were still in earshot while he led you away from the crowds. He tucked you away, resting your back against a shiplap wall in a corner, perfectly concealed from curious profilers. “I want to talk to you,” he whispered, leaning against the wall.

You crossed your arms in front of your chest in preemptive defense, making sure he stayed at least a foot away from you. “I’ve said everything there is to say to you,” you made no effort to avert his gaze, no attempt to duck away from the conversation.

“I haven’t,” he responded immediately, his voice steady despite the noticeable pounding of his carotid. It was almost as if he’d practiced this speech before, going through every permutation of the conversation in his mirror before meeting you out.

Raising your eyebrows, you looked up at him; the sun was setting, the orange light reflecting in his brown irises while he studied you like it was the last time he’d ever see you. “Spence,” you breathed, waiting expectantly for him to continue.

“You never actively pursued me, how was I meant to know you were interested?” His question made you want to scoff, but the earnest look in his eyes gave you pause. “Admittedly, social cues aren’t my strong suit, and I know you know that.”

Your shoulders relaxed, “So, because I never actively pursued you, it’s my fault that we never ended up together? Was I supposed to declare my intentions to you?”

He shook his head, sending strands of wavy brown hair tumbling in front of his forehead. In another life, you would’ve reached out to fix his hair. “No, I’m saying that while you never actively pursued me, I am actively pursuing you. I just want to make sure you know what page I’m on,” he told you, nervously picking at his nails.

“Spencer,” you sighed his name, “I already told you I couldn’t do it.” You’d cried it to him, actually. You expected this conversation to be more of the same, pleading with Spencer to understand your perspective on the situation while he relentlessly begged you to reconsider.

Reaching out, he touched your arm gently, nothing more than a graze of his fingertips across your bare skin, “And I want to prove to you that we can do this. I can be the guy that you want.”

You pressed your lips together, trying to push yourself further into the wall until you phased right through it, “I can’t take the back and forth.” You needed something stable, but what you needed would never be reflective of what you wanted. The most brutal truth of all was that you still wanted Spencer. You considered him your first love, and no one ever gets over their first love.

Just like he’d never get over his.

“There are just too many years between us, Spencer. It’s too complicated,” you told him, trying to keep your breathing steady. It would be exhausting to explain your tearful look to the rest of the team.

He waved your reasoning away, “It’s not. It’s not complicated. I love you and you love me. So, why can’t we be together?”

Your lips parted, staring up at him with wide eyes as your brain frantically tried to catch up with the situation at hand. Each beat of your heart was like a repetition of the word—love, love, love.

Spencer took your silence for rejection, “Maybe it’s just me then.”

“It’s not,” you croaked, fear and love and sorrow causing your throat to strangle your words. You looked up at him and wondered how long he’d been sitting on that confession. You wondered how long he’d known you loved him. You wondered if he still dreamed about Maeve. For whatever reason, that’s the only curiosity that you voiced, “Do you still dream about her?”

“I only dream about you these days,” he answered, his voice soft in the cacophony of the bar, keeping the conversation private despite your public stage.

“You can’t mean that,” you murmured, your face warming in response to his confession.

Your response only seemed to encourage him further, leaning his head down to allow himself contact. He pressed his lips to yours gently, and you found yourself leaning into him more than you’d like, each movement of his lips reminiscent of a chisel against the wall that you had constructed between the two of you.

Reaching your arms up, you propped one over his shoulder and used your free hand to weave your fingers in his hair—just as silky as you had always imagined it would be. His lips were soft against yours, and you knew you were fighting a battle that you could never win. You’d always run back to him.

Even when you pried yourself away from him, there wasn’t an ounce of regret in your bloodstream, but there was an outpour of sorrow. “Spence,” you breathed, blinking tears from your eyes while he pressed his forehead against yours.

“I’m sorry,” he responded, “I shouldn’t have done that.” His tone didn’t reflect his words in the slightest, there was no remorse in his eyes when you met them for the first time in a new light.

You shook your head instantly, “It’s okay.” You understood why he had done it. Telling you he loved you. Kissing you. He hadn’t done either of those things with Maeve. Spencer was trying to make a statement with you; he wanted his actions to speak louder than words.

He frowned, “You’re crying. I’m so sorry.”

Your lips parted to respond, but you hesitated for a moment. Curiosity was rapping at your door, wanting to know if the last person he had kissed was Diane. “I’m not crying because I didn’t want you to kiss me,” you admitted, hoping that your candor would serve to bring him some comfort.

“Oh,” he breathed, “Oh.”

You nodded, confirming his suspicions, “But I meant it when I told you I can’t do this. I just… not right now.” You needed time to come to terms with the fact that the love you never expected was right around the corner, and you needed time so that Maeve wasn’t the first person you thought over after kissing him.

“Okay,” he said, taking a small step away from you, “But you… you’ll let me know?”

Your head bobbed, “I’ll let you know.”

"I love you and I always will and I am sorry. What a useless word." - Ernest Hemingway

[bunny-jpeg]

kink-o-ween - day twenty-three

max verstappen - filming/recording

tags: smut/pwp, filming/recording, dirty talk, established relationship, large chested!reader, use of red bull merch

a/n: thank you for the patience while i wrote these. managing my schedule better has helped greatly. thank you for all of the kind words, i hope that these (late) fics are as good as you hoped for <3

kink-o-ween master-list

your relationship with max verstappen was private. the most you had online was a casual picture of him on a private instagram account. you wished to keep it low-key. you naturally a private person, you didn't need a media circus because the person you chose to love was a well known and beloved racer.

max agreed, it was a piece of privacy that he could have. years of his life were heavily documented, someone could easily find photos of him at every stage of life. so to have something private, only for him, was a breath of fresh air.

and while your public presence was minimal, you both had a massive archive of private, intimate material of one another.

"i can't believe you're making me wear this. is your ego not big enough, my love?" you asked as you exited the washroom in nothing but a red bull branded t-shirt and hat. specifically his t-shirt and hat with the number '1' plastered across it.

max sat up a little more in bed and felt his cock twitch in his tight briefs. his fingers reached for his phone.

you looked at him and crossed your arms, "is it that horrible?" you shifted from one side to the other, uncertain. the shirt wasn't long enough to cover your lower half so your lover got a good glimpse of your cunt.

"this is far from horrible. this is perfect." he swallowed, "can i take a picture?" his fingers itched for the phone, "i want to see this over and over again when i'm in texas."

you dropped your arms and placed your hands at your hips, "don't you already have a massive collection of photos?" then crossed the room towards him. your hands soon played with the bottom of the t-shirt.

max replied, "you know how people paint fruit over and over again, and it's never enough. that's me with you."

you giggled as you climbed into bed, "so you're saying i'm a bowl of fruit, mister verstappen?" then took him by the face to give him a heated kiss on the lips. he put the phone down and wrapped an arm around you for a moment.

when you pulled away and straddled his waist, he reached for the device once more. he then pushed up your shirt to expose your large breasts.

he angled the camera to you and snapped a few photos. he then licked his lips. he knew if his phone got hacked. there would be so many photos of you leaked online. from your first date to your first holidays together. and even your wedding. next to no one knew about that marriage, except family, two of his friends, and your best friend for university.

max made sure to get a photo of you holding up the shirt with your wedding ring on display. it excited him. his wife exposing herself to him. it was arousing as he snapped a few more photos of your sweet face.

"happy? you'll survive texas." you giggled as you put the shirt down your torso and straddled his waist further. but you weren't on top for long as mac got you onto your back and he stripped himself of his briefs.

"i can never get enough of you, my love." he chuckled, "i could fill my entire phone with photos of you and i'd still need another phone to take more photos." he palmed your breasts through the shirt and when his hat fell off your head, he placed it back onto you.

he took you by the waist and slowly sank his cock into you. he watched your expression change and he cooed at you, "my wife, my darling wife." his groaned got a little louder.

the stretch was perfect. and it made your own noises a little louder.

"i want you for the rest of my life or as long as you'll have me." he worked your pussy with heavy thrusts. he loved you, if he didn't, he would've never made a life with you. a private piece where you two could happily live.

he married you, he loved you. he planted his hands on either side of you as he got a better angle to fuck you with. the moans echoed through his head as he worked your beautiful cunt.

"please, max." you moaned as your nails dug into his strong shoulders. he was your champion, your lover, your husband. you could feel yourself grow sweaty in the red bull shirt.

he kissed your warm cheek, "you look so good in my kit. that number looks good on you." he joked as he laid another heated kiss onto you. he held the covers under him. his heart rate picked up as he fucked you. he could taste the pleasure on his tongue.

"mmm, maybe i should wear mclaren orange next time." you remarked and your husband fucked you a little faster.

"maybe my orange. dutch orange." he replied, "but not mclaren. never. not while i'm still breathing." he kissed you with a heated passion as the bed shifted under you. his strokes were heavy and it made your thighs tense up around around his waist.

after all this time, he still knew how to make you moan. how to make pleasure pool in your soul. comforting and familiar. pleasure was a heated affair between you two.

he leaned further against you and rutted upwards into you. the heat throbbed in his mind as he watched your body move with his. wearing his clothes, having his last name. you were perfect. his lovely wife.

with a bit of space between you two, he scrambled for his phone. he documented the sight of your body, how you looked in his t-shirt. he kept going at a steady pace and pressed against areas that left you seeing stars behind your eyelids.

he even captured a small video of his cock thrusting in and out of your slick pussy. your wetness made his cock soaked. he groaned, "that's my beautiful wife."

his words made your noises become more needy as you gripped onto the soft covers under you. you swallowed back the pleasure as to not get too loud. you then said, "fuck, you're perfect, max. my perfect husband."

he licked his lips and continued to work your hips. work his cock into your pussy. his length throbbed in you, he needed his beautiful wife, "i lucked out. you complete me. that's why i have so many photos of you. i need you in every way i can get you.' he picked up the pace and put the phone further onto the bed to really admire you without a screen.

"max."

he looked over you once more. his cock pressed against your softest parts. and you couldn't help but get louder. you couldn't deny yourself the pleasure anymore. it felt so good.

"please, max." you said loudly. your back arched, only your husband could make you feel this good. the kind of pleasure that left you awestruck.

"i'll always love you." he said as he put his all into it. your body moved with the force of his movements. you came quickly and a sweet noise left your lips and it made max ache for more. he ached for you. the thrusts continued as he felt the similar heat course through him. you felt amazing and soon after you came he finished as well.

he kept every inch inside of you as the pleasure clogged his brain.

"max."

"my lover, my everything." he said with love bubbling in his tone. he slowed to a stop before he pulled out, his face was flushed and his breathing was heavy.

you both soon ended up under the covers. you ditched the hat, but kept the shirt on at his request. your nipples poked through the fabric which made something rouse in your husband as he held you close.

he admired you while he was blissed out. it didn't take long before he felt so relaxed that he fell asleep, dozed off with soft snoring.

you played with his hair and held a smile for him. while he had a large collection of photos of you. you had the same with him. you reached over him to the nightstand to grab your phone. you snapped a photo of his sleeping face before you put it down onto the bed next to his and then kissed him on the lips <3

[whorelaud]

reader crying to drew about tiktok getting banned, and him comforting her about it  warnings fluff!!! hurt/comfort (?), cringe, reader being dramatic & drew being chronically offline

Drew wasn't typically a social media person. Sure, he posts from time to time, but that's only to promote stuff when it's required, or sometimes when he wants to show you off. Other than that, the boy chose to live by the book, letting his manager take care of the business, and keep his fans updated only from time to time. 

Therefore, when he was suddenly startled out of his slumber to your muffled cries, of course he was confused, swiftly blinking the sleep out of his eyes, as he rubbed comforting circles to your back. 

"What's wrong, baby?" He muttered through a yawn, squinting one of his eyes closed. "Did sometbing happen, why are you crying?" 

"What do I do?" You cried out loud, attention fixing on your tear soaked phone. "It's actually gone." 

"What's gone?" He asked, gaze following yours. "Tell me what's going on, you're scaring me." 

"Tiktok's banned," you sniffled, gesturing towards the screen, where it loaded the information regarding the ban. "What do I do with myself now? I hate instagram, it's scary!" 

"Tiktok's banned?" Drew asked, grabbing the phone from your side. He eyed it with puzzlement, reading over the statement displayed on your device. "Since when?" 

"You clueless old man," you muttered under your breath, snatching the phone from his hold. His eyes trailed back to you with confusion, pupils glistening with innocence that had your heart skipping a beat. "They've been talking about it for a whole two weeks now! I thought it would be like all the other times, but they actually did it, and now it's gone!" 

"Okay, it's alright, baby." He reassured, cupping your face in between his fingers. "It's not worth all those tears, yeah? Don't want my precious girlfriend crying over a dumb app." 

"Shut up," you shyly shoved the touch away, merely for him to dodge the gesture, stilling his hands around your cheeks. His thumb rubbed soothing motions to the curve of your jaw, lips breaking into a sheepish grin, one that had you smiling like a fool. "I'm actually sad, what about my Drew Starkey edits collection?" 

"What do you need the edits for?" He chuckled, pecking your nose, then the corner of your mouth, trailing light, open-mouthed kisses all over your face, till he eventually plants a soft kiss to your lips. "I'm right here, you can look at me all day." 

"Still..." you trailed off, voice barely above a whisper. "They were good edits." 

"Yeah?" The corner of his lips tugged into a teasing smirk, tone filled with amusement. "Want me to recreate them?" 

"No, yeah, I'm no longer sad." You joked, playfully rolling your eyes. Your lips pursed into a thin line, merely to supress the smile forming around your lips. 

"See, you're smiling!" Drew giggled, pulling you into a hug, as you practically melted in his embrace. "Let's jus' sleep, I'm sure they'll have things figured out soon." 

You nodded in silence, burying your face in the crook of his neck, instantly intoxicated by his scent as it filled your nostrils. 

Although it was an idiotic thing to cry over, Drew didn't shame you for it, choosing to comfort you instead, no matter how stupid it truly was. 

And that alone was enough reasons to take your last breath with him. You couldn't ask for a better, chronically offline, partner. 

–

My love ❤️: yo nvm everything is good tt is back up 😇

Drew: 🫤

a/n i live for silly and cringe content idc :'c

[sinofwriting]

Under His Wing - Jenson Button

Words: 1,177 Summary: Oscar had thought when Mark had taken his sister under his wing that it was a great idea. Turns out it was the worst idea in the world as he stares at a picture of Jenson and his sister kissing. Note(s): Reader is Oscar’s sister. Large age gap between her and Jenson. No part two will be written.

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Oscar had four sisters. All younger than him and all equally as annoying and he didn’t have a favorite. It would be unfair really. But if he was to have a favorite sister? It would be Y/N.

They were nearly twins, just ten months apart, but you’d never think so with the way she always tagged along with him everywhere.

When he moved to the UK for his racing career, six months later she joined him. When he moved out of boarding school and into a flat, she joined him. She joined him at races, at pr and press events, she always joined him. And thankfully when Mark became his manager in 2020 he recognized how important she was to him, really how important his family was to him, and as soon as she got her degree she was working with Mark.

Oscar had been beyond grateful, because she loved f1 just as much as he did, she just didn’t have an interest in driving. She did want a career in it and Mark had given her that opportunity without Oscar having to beg whatever team he was a part of to give her a chance or make her an employee of his, which would have not worked for either of them.

He’s beyond grateful for the chance that Mark gave her, for what Mark has done for him, for his career, for taking them both under his wing, but now as he stares at the photo on his phone, he wishes that he never let Mark Webber meet his sister.

—

“Jenson.” She giggles as he presses kisses to her neck.

He grins at the sound, nipping at the thin skin and reveling in her gasp. “Yes, sweetheart?”

Her temple presses briefly against his as she gently shakes her head. “I want a kiss.”

He can hear the pout on her lips, the wide-eyed look she has on her face, as she tries to get what she wants. Not, he thinks, that she really has to try and convince him to give her anything.

“Come here, sweetheart.” He murmurs, turning her so she’s facing him and sure enough, she’s pouting up at him, her bottom lip sticking out beautifully. “You want a kiss?”

She nods.

Leaning down, he kisses her, taking that bottom lip of hers in between his own. “Is that better?”

“Much.” She sighs, making him kiss her again.

Releasing her, he watches as she goes over to her bag and pulls out of her phone. A joke is on the tip of his tongue about kids and their phones these days, but his dominant hand is pulling his own phone out of his pants pocket, wanting to check his messages before seeing if he can convince her to join him in the shower, a light sweat clinging to him from their hike.

His eyebrows furrow at the sheer amount of missed calls and texts he has and he quickly answers the next call.

“Mark, Is everything alright?”

“Jenson.”

“What’s going on?” He asks, shooting a concerned glance at Y/N, whose looking at her phone, confused.

“Are you in California right now?”

“Yes.”

“Are you with anyone?”

His eyebrow raises, “no. Why?”

“So, Y/N Piastri, Oscar’s sister and my assistant isn’t with you.”

Jenson freezes. “How did you-?”

The older cuts him off. “You two were spotted on a hike, kissing.”

“Fuck.” He drags a hand over his face while the one holding his phone, pulls the device away from his ear and mouth a bit. “Sweetheart, we’ve got a bit of a problem.”

“Does the problem have anything to do with why Oscar has nonstop been calling and texting me?” She asks, moving back over to him and he winces as she watches her let another call from Oscar just ring through.

“We got spotted on our hike.” He tells her, as he puts his phone on speaker. “Mark called as well.” He doesn’t mention any of the other names he also saw littering his phone screen, that could wait until after.

“How bad is it?”

“PR wise?” Jenson’s nose wrinkles, face twisting in disgust at how that’s the first thing Mark says, considers, even though it’s his job in some sort. “Not too bad. There’s a lot of shock, questions. It’s more Oscar I’m worried about.”

“He’s not happy.”

“Happy?” Mark laughs. “He apparently went ballistic seeing the photos. Lily called me, she was with him when he saw. Last update I had from her, he was trying to get Max to give him his private jet so he could come to California to kill Jenson. Since y’know he found out through twitter that his little sister is doing something with a guy twice her age.”

“You introduced us.” Jenson protests.

“Yeah, because I thought you’d be good friends. Not,” he pauses unsure of what to call it.

“Dating?” She fills in for him.

“Yeah, dating.” He sighs. “Did anyone know before this?”

“No.” They both answer at the same time.

Mark sighs again. “Alright, well it’s time to start talking. You need to call your own manager Jenson, Y/N call Oscar, we can handle our side of the PR after Jenson gets his figured out.”

“Got it. Sorry, Mark.”

“Don’t worry about it, kid.”

Before Jenson can say anything the call is ended and he’s staring at his phone, bemused. “I think he likes you more than me.”

She laughs. “Well, do you blame him?”

He quickly shakes his head. “No. Be stupid to not like you.” He dips his head down, wanting a kiss, but she steps away, shaking her head.

“No, not happening. You can get a kiss after you talk to your manager and I talk Oscar out of killing you.”

Jenson winces, that was not going to be a fun conversation. “I’m alright with a bit of light maiming.”

“Jenson.”

“Sweetheart,” he chuckles at the serious look on her face. “He’s going to want to kill and hurt me. I’m sure your mum and dad are the same way. I’m sure next time I see Mark I’m going to get a nice elbow to the ribs. It’s just what’s going to happen. I made my piece with that after our fifth date.”

She pouts and he can’t help but pull her into a hug. “I don’t want you to get hurt and I don’t want anyone fighting about this.”

“I know.” He kisses the top of her head. “And we can hope that it doesn’t happen, that it goes more smoothly than how it feels currently, but we both knew that us being together would rock the boat.”

“I think we need a bigger boat.”

He snorts. “Maybe. Now let’s make our calls, get them done and over with yeah?”

“Yeah.” She sighs, pulling away from him before smiling and then she’s pouting up at him again, just like earlier. “Kiss?”

He shakes his head, but brushes their lips together for just half a second. “There ya go, sweetheart. Little something to tide you over.”

@crashingwavesofeuphoria @jointhehunt67 @gothgirlez @namgification @KimmiB13 @racingheartsposts @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou300morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803 @tallrock35 @casperlikej

[cripplecharacters]

Futuristic Settings and the Erasure of Disabilities

The common theme in a lot of futuristic, sci-fi or not, settings, is the abundance of cure tropes that are thrown in there. Disabled people either don't exist, or aren't actually disabled - they get a magical device that undoes their injury, or get a mech suit that basically does the same thing.

Often the setting is treated like an excuse that can't be rebutted in any way: “but my story is set in the future where medicine is better!”

So: is that true? Does better medicine actually mean less disabled people?

Historical Accuracy

[large text: Historical Accuracy]

In 1900, the life expectancy of a person born with Down syndrome was 9 years. Try putting yourself there and imagining that 2024 is the Future - better medicine, basically sci-fi in comparison to what they had back there. In that future, what is true?

a) There's no people with Down syndrome.

b) People with Down syndrome live to be 60 years old on average.

Answer: B. The only countries with fewer people with Down syndromes are the ones engaging in widespread eugenics, which is a topic I will not be getting into in this post, but I'm mentioning because the only places without disabled people are eugenicist.

The “better medicine” of the future didn't make Down syndrome curable, it made people with it survive longer. 50% of people born with it today will live to be over 60 years old. In the future, there will be retirees with Down syndrome. In the past, 50% of them wouldn't have made it into their teens.

Why does that matter?

[large text: Why does that matter?]

Future medicine won't make disabilities disappear. It will make them more manageable. Less deadly. Easier to survive.

If you base your knowledge and perception of disability throughout the times on sci-fi novels by able-bodied writers, you're going to hate how it actually works in real life.

Have we magically- technologically gotten rid of diabetes? No, 11% of Americans have it. 103 years ago, diabetes were lethal. There aren't fewer diabetics compared to the past. They live longer. You probably know or heard of someone who has diabetes.

You need to expand your understanding on how disability and medicine work, because “future = no disability” is genuine nonsense. It doesn't work like that, and it really frustrates me how writers dead-set on “logic” in their setting fail to see this.

Are paralyzed people walking around in various mechs, or are they using better wheelchairs than those from 100 years ago? Wheelchairs that make it easier to be independent? That help with symptoms of their disabilities by preventing pressure sores, or providing alternative methods of maneuvering?

In the future, why would there suddenly be those futuristic transplant* spines instead of wheelchairs that can be used with one's brain or eyes, for those who can't move their hands, mouth, or head? Why wouldn't there be wheelbeds for those who are currently bed-bound because they can't manage being upright in any way?

*Also, how are all of these magic disability-fixing transplants never actual transplants? Receiving a transplant basically always ends up in being immunocompromised because of the very way the body works. If you're writing about humans, this isn't going to change.

Things like sign language or wheelchairs have been used for thousands of years, they're not going away anytime soon or not-so-soon.

Future = More Disabled People?

[large text: Future = More Disabled People?]

We already discussed that there are presently common disabilities that used to be lethal a century ago or even less. If we use this fact for a futuristic setting, you suddenly have a myriad of new possibilities.

There's vastly better medicine? A lot of people deal with post-rabies syndrome because it's finally survivable, but it leaves people with the effects of the meningitis that rabies cause. There's way more quadriplegic people because the survival rates are much higher. Cancer survivors are more common because people live longer. Physical therapy for people who had prion diseases because they aren't fatal anymore but cause severe disability. Head trauma is more treatable, so there's more people with TBIs and fewer people dying in vehicular accidents.

The technology is super advanced? People with locked-in syndrome can operate an AAC device with their eyes, fully customize its voice to their liking, and not have to worry about battery life of their powerchair because it has sonar panels. Canes that can fold themselves with the click of a button so that they can fit in one's pocket.

There could be so many more adapted sports. Tools and technology that can adapt a house exactly to one's needs. Wheelchairs that are actually affordable. A portable pocket sized device that makes ableds behave normally around disabled people.

The point of this post isn't to completely shit on sci-fi settings, but instead to urge abled writers to think a bit more and try to be creative in the way they go about speculative fiction. Write. Something. New. There's one billion stories about how impossible it is for disabled people to exist in the future, and it's upsetting at best to read that constantly when you're disabled. As long as there are people, there will be disabled people.

mod Sasza