#i have no degrees and no interest at all in going back to school for any reason so my options are: 1) cope 2) die anyways

[creepyjirachi]

okay hear me out. i know i love science and i’m very good at chemistry and physics. but what if i became a fucking accountant

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[pollen]

i've been diving a lot deeper into adhd symptoms and comorbidities and misdiagnoses and whenever i tell my boyfriend something i learned that sounds like me he responds with something like

[martyrbat]

im so considerate.... (<- guy not ranting about a thing it hates before its friend is done with the media)

[ruinikaido]

i wish i was as social i make myself out to be irl, more social than the average awkward inept tumblr user is still not social enough

[fridayyy-13th]

i am feeling So Many Things at the moment but mostly i just feel like a disaster

[silverislander]

idk if it's genuine excitement or the energy drink i had earlier that's actually letting me focus and work but dude. i am CRUSHING this essay. this is Fun To Write. i think i'm actually doing a really good job here. wtf. i love my major man

[exopelagic]

talking to him more very much achieved. we just talked for like 4 hours in the kitchen holy shit I need to sleep

[reasonsforhope]

Kamala Harris just announced that her vice president will be Minnesota governor Tim Walz. Based on the coverage so far I'm really reassured by this decision.

The Washington Post did an obviously great job of making a prepared article for each option, considering how long an article they had up 7 minutes after the announcement.

((Okay technically it's not an official announcement yet it's "according to three people familiar with the pick, who spoke on the condition of anonymity to discuss a decision that is not yet public." But listen. I am 99% sure this is a weather balloon. (Meaning: a deliberate leak to gauge reaction.) Because the sheer weakness or incompetence on the part of the Harris campaign that it would take for three people to all confirm that within a few hours hours of each other and the planned announcement it is massive.))

-via The Washington Post, August 6, 2024

Honestly this decision, from everything I've read and can tell, looks like it's brilliant politics.

Important Context: The vice president(ial candidates)'s job in an election is not to be similar to the president. The vice president's job on the ballot is very, very much specifically to be different from the president. Why? So they can cover each others' weaknesses. Especially regionally.

(Sidenote: I feel a bit ridiculous saying this. But genuinely if you want to get a stronger understanding of how US elections really work. Go watch seasons 6 and 7 of The West Wing. Genuinely, a lot of politicians have said - especially back in its day - that that was the most accurate depiction of an election they'd ever seen. Also specifically features an entire arc about a contested Democratic primary convention, so also very good if you're interested in understanding weird nominating convention shenanigans.)

From the article:

"Harris’s choice for a running mate was among the most closely watched decisions of her fledgling campaign, as she sought to bolster the ticket’s prospects for victory in November and rapidly find someone who could be a governing partner. In picking Walz, she has selected a seasoned politician with executive governing experience and signaled the importance of Midwestern battleground states such as Wisconsin and Michigan.

Walz’s foray into politics came later in life: He spent more than two decades as a public school teacher and football coach, and as a member of the Army National Guard, before running for Congress in his 40s. In 2006, he defeated a Republican to win Minnesota’s 1st Congressional District--a rural, conservative area--and won reelection five times before leaving Congress to run for governor.

Walz was first elected governor in 2018 and handily won reelection in 2022. Though little-known outside his state, Walz emerged publicly as one of the earliest names mentioned as a possible running mate for Harris, and in the ensuing days he made the rounds on television as an outspoken surrogate for the vice president...

“These are weird people on the other side. They want to take books away, they want to be in your exam room. … They are bad on foreign policy, they are bad on the environment, they certainly have no health care plan, and they keep talking about the middle-class,” Walz told MSNBC in July. “As I said, a robber baron real estate guy and a venture capitalist trying to tell us they understand who we are? They don’t know who we are.”

Walz also has faced criticism from Republicans that his policies as governor were too liberal, including legalizing recreational marijuana for adults, protecting abortion rights, expanding LGBTQ protections, implementing tuition-free college for low-income Minnesotans and providing free breakfast and lunch for schoolchildren in the state.

But many of those initiatives are broadly popular. Walz also signed an executive order removing the college-degree requirement for 75 percent of Minnesota’s state jobs, a move that garnered bipartisan support and that several other states have also adopted.

“What a monster. Kids are eating and having full bellies, so they can go learn, and women are making their own health-care decisions,” Walz said sarcastically in a July 28 interview with CNN when questioned whether such policies would be fodder for conservative attacks, later adding: “If that’s where they want to label me, I’m more than happy to take the [liberal] label.”

Walz also spoke at a kickoff event in St. Paul for a Democratic canvassing effort, casting Trump as a “bully.”

“Don’t lift these guys up like they’re some kind of heroes. Everybody in this room knows--I know it as a teacher--a bully has no self-confidence. A bully has no strength. They have nothing,” Walz said at the event, sporting a camouflage hunting hat and T-shirt.

Walz has explained that he felt some Democrats’ practice of calling Trump an existential threat to democracy was giving him too much credit, which prompted his decision to denounce the GOP nominee instead as being “weird.”

“I do believe all those things are a real possibility, but it gives him way too much power," Walz said on CNN’s “State of the Union” regarding the Democrats’ rhetoric. “Listen to the guy. He’s talking about Hannibal Lecter, shocking sharks, and just whatever crazy thing pops into his mind.”

If Walz is elected vice president, under state law, Minnesota Lt. Gov. Peggy Flanagan (D) would assume the governorship for the rest of his term. Minnesota Senate president Bobby Joe Champion, a Democrat, would become lieutenant governor."

-via The Washington Post, August 6, 2024

--

This guy. Sounds like. fucking Moderate swing-state/rural/Midwestern/southern/"heartland"/working class white voter catnip. He sounds like he's also a very smart politician and strong campaigner. And he's apparently genuinely a good guy with a good record, too.

He sounds like he's going to do a really good job of appealing to voters in several of the big deal swing states without being from any of them specifically. Which means it doesn't feel like pandering to one of the states involved (and thereby spurning the others), which is also great.

(Also he was the one who started "weird" @ conservatives and I think we should take that seriously as a very good political instinct/move. Judging in large part by how it has so clearly hit an actual nerve with conservatives like so little else. Also hugely relevant: that post going around about how part of why conservatives are so upset about "weird" is because in the Midwest, "weird" specifically also implies anti-social or harmful behavior.)

Officially feeling more optimistic about Trump not winning in November

[targaryenluvs]

— BEST LIFE

pairings: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader (past), harvey specter x fem!juniorpartner!reader (present)

summary: you’d once been apart of the bau team, but after a situation and a falling out with your boyfriend you moved on. what happens when the bau needs your help on a case, which your boyfriend harvey is also assisting on?

warnings: angsty, asshole harvey cause duh, jealousy (spencer) kisses, cute harvey

wordcount: 1.7k

a/n: this literally sprouted in my mind and i just needed to write it lmao, if you haven’t watched suits or criminal minds go right now‼️ they’re both my husbands 😋

when jessica had called you into her office, you’d been calm. apparently one of your cases, which had you and harvey working together, was now of fbi interest. your client was currently suing a company for faulty wiring in his home, which caused it to burn down. and it was apparently not the case at all, the home was suspected to be tied into a serial arsonist.

what you didn’t expect was for your client to be accused of being the arsonist.

“you’re sitting here,”

“uh-huh.”

“telling me,”

“yup.”

“that i’m supposed to believe that richard jeena, the fifty three year old little man, is a serial arsonist?”

you shut the file infront of you, meeting harvey’s eye, “sweetheart?” he uncrossed his legs, leaning forwards with a sweet smile, “yes?” you leaned forwards as well, “that, is exactly what i’m telling you.” harvey leaned back into his chair, disbelief riddling his face.

“and the fbi is flying here?” you nodded along, “fbi agents?” you nodded again, “probably field agents or whatever they’re called. they’ll sit in on the trial, survey the scenes, collect evidence and all.” the familiar clicking of donna’s heels brought a smile to your face, “profilers.”

your heart dropped with one word, “what’d you say?” donna made her way to the two of you, plopping herself down in the chair next to you, “it’s those fbi profilers. yknow, they look at the room and can tell you if he’s left or right handed, blonde, mommy issues and all. nice little packaged criminal profile in seconds.” you couldn’t help correcting her, having dealt with your fair share of assumptions in your years as a profiler.

“that’s not how it works,” harvey swiveled in his chair as donna looked your way, “oh?” harvey smirked as you sighed, “that’s not how it works, we don’t just walk into a room and have it speak to us. we survey the place, fresh eyes and open minds. we look for the things that everyone else seems to miss. we put ourselves in the minds of the criminals themselves, to get a better understanding of them, why they did it and all. you work your way back, start from the victim maybe, see where they’ve been, what they did in the last week, who they talk to. sometimes the killers in their personal circle but not always. every case is different, we try our best to provide an accurate, unbiased profile.”

“i want to take you on my desk, right now.” you rolled your eyes at your boyfriends words as donna stared intently, “we. you said ‘we’, as if you know what they do and their job. oh my god, you use to be one. that’s the job you had before coming here! you have a degree in criminal justice, and you said your last job you were at for what, seven years?”

“i graduated high school early, entered harvard at a young age, graduated, entered the fbi at the same time as a— friend. was also studying law, sat the exam in new york since it’s where i wanted to be. finished up at harvard, i was mid to late twenties when i left, wound up here and am now a junior partner, capiche?”

“could just say your age.” mike stood by the door with a wad of files in his hand, “i’d rather die, mike.” harvey laughed, “please don’t incentivise my lovely girlfriend to killing herself mike.”

“as nice as it is to see you all bonding, and trust me, it hits me right in the heart, jessica wants yourself and y/n in the conference room.” louis spoke from the door as you stood up, “first of all, trust with you is fickle, second, tell it to hit you in the face next time lou.” you smacked harvey’s arm as he held his arms up, “friendly fire, i’ll put it out later.” you shoved him by his back before smiling at louis, “i’m sorry about him, he’s not a big fan of the fbi.” louis nodded as he followed you, “duly noted.”

“she’s right, damn pigs.” harvey joked as you approached the conference room, “your highness,” you grinned, “you never treat me so nicely when we’re at home harvey.” he held his hand over his heart, “now don’t lie sweetheart, i’m as nice as mike.” the snort that left your lips had harvey doubling over, “oh please, nice as mike? you wish.”

your giggles were drained from your throat as you stared at half of your old team.

derek morgan, emily prentiss, penelope garcia & spencer reid. the last name, and face you’d still not looked at yet. thankfully, harvey noticed your tenseness, “y/n? sweetheart, you alright?” there it was, that word, sweetheart. spencer couldn’t help but wonder, was it just a word? you always use to call him it, before you dated, teasing of course.

“yeah, i’m fine harv.” he nodded, even if he didn’t believe you he could always ask later on. pulling out his and yours chairs, you sat next to one another. “harvey specter & y/n l/n?” emily questioned as you nodded, “the one and only. and then there’s y/n.” harvey leaned back in his chair, whilst derek stared him down.

what an ass. is what he wanted to say, it was also what he assumed emily was thinking. “emily.” she glanced over at you, surprised at you using her name, “it’s nice to see you all. how’ve you been?” and the bewildered expression was wiped clean off your face, no remnant left. you were a damn lawyer, if there was one thing you’d learned, it was to keep a straight face.

penelope smiled, “we’ve been good, y/n. but we miss you, back home. you’re a lawyer now huh?” you grinned, “the one and only.” harvey squeezed your hand, you squeezed back. “youngest junior partner, ever. my dream. just hoping to make it to senior partner soon, take the title of youngest out from under this guy. i’m happy here, i hope you are too. but down to business.”

and for the next few hours, you’d sat and listened. overlooking the case files, giving statements, reviewing security footage from surrounding houses. at some point mike ended up in the room, having met with your client and being harvey’s associate.

you’d had the pleasure of introducing spencer and mike, the two undeniably similar. you felt comfortable, even betting with penelope that if they touched the world would implode.

“and how much would he loose?”

“127,478.23.” mike and spencer rushed out as the rest of you fought to suppress your smiles, “well y/n, seems like we’ve got a genius-off.” derek laughed as the two men looked towards you, “don’t worry i’ll still love you mike.” mike scoffed at your words, “what makes you think i’d loose?”

“because i know you, and i know reid. trust me, you’d loose.”

reid. not spencer, spence, sweetheart. none of the above, you’d used his last name. as if he was nothing more than a colleague.

“okay, we’ve been here for far too long. and as much as i’d like to sit here and slowly rot, i’d rather do that at the restaurant i have booked for dinner with two lovely ladies. y/n and i have a trial date tomorrow, 8.00am. i think, we bring him along, show him what’s to happen if he doesn’t confess, than toast victory champagne when said confession rolls through. how’s that sound?” if derek’s grin was any indicator, besides a big fat yes?

spencer wanted to puke, ‘lovely ladies?’ multiple women? this man was insufferable. you gathered yourself and harvey’s files, a hand gestured towards you, the last file in said hand. “thanks reid.” he smiled, “no problem-o.” your eyebrows furrowed, “never change do you?” spencer didn’t have time to respond, his brain was too busy blowing a fuse as harvey opened the door for you. “ready for dinner lovely lady?” they all heard harvey ask as you nodded, the four watched as you walked out, his hand on your back as he pecked you on the lips.

“reid, you alright?” derek’s hand rested on his shoulder, “i’m fine, why wouldn’t i be fine? don’t we have places to be? hotch would want to know their on our side, that they reviewed all the information. they’ll help us get a confession out of him.” derek sighed, “because you just saw your ex, who you haven’t seen in years. the one you never got over, happily living in new york as comfortable as possible. a successful business woman and lawyer, happily in a relationship.”

spencer shook his head, “you don’t know that.” emily directed a sympathetic smile his way, “we sat with them for three hours. we watched them laugh, bounce off of eachother for theories, quite literally finish eachothers sentences. order food for eachother without asking, and get their meals right. they held hands when they could, he continued to call her sweetheart. and now they’re going out to dinner.”

spencer’s shoulder dropped, they were right. he’d come here excited at the possibility of seeing you again, talking to you. maybe even beginning again with you. instead, you’re apparently with some suited up asshole. he was annoyingly sweet when it came to you though.

as if the whole three hours weren’t a slap in the face, harvey’s voice rung out through the hallway, “there’s my lovely lady!” rachel, who they’d all met earlier on, was currently guiding a young girl to harvey’s arms. “daddy!” if hearts were boats, than his was sinking. he may have had a chance beforehand, but now?

“is mommy here?” your daughter was currently situated on harvey’s hip, “why don’t you hug her and find out?” your arms were out in the open as your daughter squealed before running to you, “d’you have a fun day with rach?” she nodded her head rapidly as yourself and harvey smiled, he stood behind you, chest to back. his hand rested on your waist as the other moved aside hair from her face, before moving hair from your own.

“now, my lovely ladies, it’s time for dinner.”

lovely ladies, for once, spencer had made a mistake. harvey was going out with multiple women, but not in the way he thought. his daughter and the mother of his child, you.

his words and actions meant nothing, they would mean nothing. you were happy, so happy. you had everything you wanted, a loving marriage and man, a gorgeous family. something spencer hadn’t given you. a man who knew you could hold your own. spencer knew that too, but he couldn’t help himself back then.

right now, you were living your best life.

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: I Choose You

Request: Anonymous said: "jealous tyler or jealous reader would be interesting to read 👀"

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: none!

A/N: not sure how i feel about this one but I gave it a go and wanted to make sure I posted!

Tyler tells himself that he’s over thinking… maybe even reading too much into things. 

But God, he swears he isn’t imagining the way that you and the reporter he’d agreed to let tag along for the next week naturally interact with one another with such ease. 

Tyler is not a jealous person– he’s confident and secure and he trusts you. Jealousy is petty and it’s stupid. And Tyler’s been trying his whole life to prove to himself and everyone around him that he’s not stupid.

Tyler has a loose shock to repair before the storm they’ve been tracking rolls in later that day. He’s currently laying on the dirt at the rest stop they’ve pulled in, with a wrench in his hand. Dani’s shining their flashlight for him, and it’s important he stays focused. And he tries… really, he does. 

But Tyler looks up just as the reporter laughs at a joke you’ve made. And then, he reaches out to touch your arm for the added effect. Tyler nearly drops the wrench he’s holding on his face at the sight. 

“Easy, T,” Dani says, studying him closely. 

He takes a deep breath before looking back towards the truck. 

“What the hell’s the matter with you?” Dani asks, kicking his shoulder gently with their boot. 

“Nothing,” Tyler grumbles in a tone that screams there is absolutely something wrong. Thankfully Dani doesn’t push. 

…

Throughout the rest of the week, Tyler tries to talk himself down whenever jealousy rears its ugly head. He keeps telling himself that he’s being irrational– you’re not flirting with the reporter everytime you walk with him into the gas stations they stop at, or offer to ride with him in the van instead of Tyler’s truck, where you normally sit. You’re just trying to be friendly… make him feel at ease. 

But did he really have to look at you that way while you studied the GPS monitoring system? Or share his fucking cookies with you when everyone ate lunch in the field? And did you have to laugh so loudly at every single joke he made?

Tyler finds out on the second night he’s tagging along that Henry’s a fucking Columbia grad on top of a stupid self-proclaimed comedian. The two of you are sitting around the fire talking about graduate degrees when Henry turns towards him. 

“Did you two meet at school then?” Henry asks.  

Tyler smiles, but instead of warmth it’s laced with sarcasm. “Nope, I don’t have one of those fancy degrees, Henry. In fact, none of us but her do.” 

Henry turns back towards you and proceeds to ask more questions about your time studying meteorology at the U of A. Meanwhile, Tyler is left to simmer in his own self pity, wondering if it bothered you that he isn’t educated like Henry. 

Tyler has to spend the rest of the week fighting the urge to make it known you’re his– he’s had thoughts of keeping a permanent hand planted on your waist right in front of Henry. Maybe if he pulled you in for a kiss a little more often, and really claimed you as his, this guy would back the hell off. 

But Tyler quickly shakes away the thought. 

Because claiming you like an object is stupid, and Tyler is not stupid. 

…

Tyler grabs you a coffee from the nearest gas station and brings it back to the motel because he’s really trying to move past all this shit. You’re sitting with Lilly and fiddling with the drone when he tries to hand it to you. 

You offer him an appreciative smile that warms his entire chest. Tyler’s definitely been overreacting, because you’re looking at him with such love and admiration in your eyes. 

“Thanks, but I’ve already had some today,” you say, crushing every hope inside of him in an instant. “Why don’t you give it to Dani?  They take their coffee the same as I do.”

“When did you have time to get coffee?” he asks, trying to play it cool. 

You reply so simply, like the words don’t slice right through his heart. “I didn’t, Henry brought me one.”

Tyler’s jaw tightens. It’s a gesture you don’t notice, because you’re too busy focusing on the drone half in your lap. 

What you do seem to notice, is the way he scoffs. It makes yours and Lilly’s heads both turn. 

But before you can reply, Tyler’s already walking away. He clutches the coffee firmly in his hand and without a word, drops the full cup in the trash can outside the motel. 

…

Tyler has to remind himself that he’s not angry.

At least not at you.  

You and him have a great relationship. He trusts you and that’s all there is to it. Whether it’s Henry or whoever else–  you never gave Tyler a reason to be worried. 

But Tyler doesn’t like the way seeing you with the reporter makes him feel. Because at any moment, you could leave him for someone with a more respectable career– someone with fair skin and button up polos who just looked like they had their shit together. Someone with a college degree… someone a hell of a lot smarter than him. 

Seeing you with him made Tyler feel vulnerable, like he had something to lose– because he had everything to lose. 

…

The crew spends another week chasing in Oklahoma. The season’s winding down, but they still managed to catch two EF0s and an EF1. 

Tyler’s been avoiding you for most of the week. He’d offer the truck space to Boone and Lilly, he’d sit next to Dexter around the fire at night… hell, he would hardly even look at you. 

You turned down his coffee earlier in the week. Only after the fact did you realize that you should have just taken the damn thing. You understand that rejecting him after he went out of his way to do something nice for you hurt his feelings… But you can’t understand how that turned into an entire week of the silent treatment. 

On numerous instances, you try to approach him. But he always has somewhere to run off to. 

“I gotta help Dani with the van’s oil change.”

“I gotta see if Boone got the footage we need.”

“I gotta give Dexter a hand with the radar.”

You’re getting sick of it. 

You try to distract yourself for the rest of the week– you ask Lilly to explain more about how to work her drone, you keep on top of the radar– looking for forming storm cells, and you try to make the reporter Tyler had invited along for the week feel welcome. 

Henry’s nice– he’s completely new to storm chasing and has loads of questions all the time. You find it slightly annoying that he’s so interested in Tyler… but you get it. And even though you’re a little irritated with Tyler for your week-long silent-treatment sentence, you still want him to sound as good as possible in the article, so you talk him up every chance you can. 

You know that this lack of communication can’t last. And the second Henry goes back to Boston to write his piece, you plan to corner Tyler and force him into telling you what the hell you’d done wrong. But until then, you don’t want to cause a scene. So, you sit back, spend more time talking with Henry about Tyler, and try like hell not to lose your mind.

…

It’s more for his own sanity than anything. It’s like seeing you with Henry has caused this sudden realization to pop into his head… You can do better– and honestly you deserve better than him. The thought is all consuming. It makes focusing on anything else incredibly difficult. 

“You gonna tell us what the hell is up?” Lilly asks one day. 

Tyler’s currently standing in the bed of his truck, tinkering things that didn’t really need to be fixed just to stay busy. 

“What do you mean?” he replies without looking up.

“I mean are you going to tell us why you two love birds haven’t spoken in like three days?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Tyler notices Boone glancing his way with an expression on his face that says he was wondering the same thing. 

“We’ve spoken,” Tyler says dismissively. 

“Telling her you don’t have room for her in the truck doesn’t count,” Lilly retorts. “C’mon, seriously, Ty. What’s wrong?”

Tyler sets his tool down and looks down at Lilly. “Nothing is wrong.”

Lilly rolled her eyes. “Okay, well are you sure she knows that? Cause Dani and I saw her crying in the bathroom.” 

Tyler lets out a long exhale– the thought of you upset instantly filling his insides with sorrow. But the thought that he was the one to make you upset is even worse. 

“I know it’s not my business,” Lilly adds. “But I’ve been watching you give her the silent treatment all week, and that’s not going to fix anything. I know Henry’s still here and it’s been a crazy week–”

Tyler can’t help the scoff that escapes his lips at the mention of Henry’s name.

Lilly pauses before a look of understanding washes over her. “You’re pissed that she’s been hanging with Henry.” She says it as a statement instead of a question. 

“I’m not–”

“I’ve known you for six years, don’t even try to deny it. You are– you’re jealous, aren’t you?” 

With his lips pursed in a thin line, Tyler raises an eyebrow at her. “Maybe I am. Does that make you happy? Is that what you want to hear?”

Now it was Lilly’s turn to scoff. “Of course it doesn’t make me happy. You’re being an idiot.”

“What?” 

“I said that you’re being an idiot,” Lilly says, annunciating each word insultingly. 

“Yeah,” Tyler nods. “I’m well aware that I’m an idiot, but thanks for reminding me.”

“I said you’re being an idiot, Tyler. Not that you are one. Now stop sulking and fucking listen for once in your goddamn life.”

It’s so out of the ordinary for Lilly to snap that Tyler actually does shut his mouth. 

“You invite a reporter on the road with us and then you don’t give him the time of day to answer any of the questions he has. You’re short and curt and to be honest, kind of fucking rude anytime he asks you anything. Y/N is being polite– and she’s hosting the guest you invited along. So don’t fucking blame her just because you’re insecure.” 

Tyler can feel the anger rising in his own chest, he wants to get defensive– to snap back at Lilly. But deep down, he knows she’s right, so he stifles any comebacks and instead hangs his head. 

Lilly sighs. “You’re not an idiot, Tyler. So stop acting like one.”

…

After letting Lilly’s words really sink in, Tyler decides that she’s right. For the first time all week, he’s motivated to actually talk with you and make things right. 

Or at least he is right until he sees Henry approaching you in the parking lot. He’s too far away to hear what Henry has to say. But he’s not so far away that he doesn't see the folded up piece of paper that he passes you. 

In an instant, everything Lilly had said– along with all the things he’s said to convince himself he’s been overreacting flies away with the wind. Because Henry just gave you his fucking phone number. 

Tyler turns– needing to get as much space from whatever exchange he just witnessed as he possibly can. In a few, long, angry strides, Tyler reaches his truck and climbs inside. In the distance, he hears Lilly call after him. But he pretends he doesn’t hear. Instead, he slams the door shut, starts the ignition and drives away. 

…

“Where’s he goin’?” Boone says just as you approach him and the rest of the crew. 

“Dunno. He didn’t say anything to you?” Dani asks, turning towards Lilly. 

She shakes her head, eyes squinting against the bright sun. 

“What the hell is his problem?” you say frustratedly, biting back tears. 

Stupidly, you’d let yourself get your hopes up earlier in the day when Tyler had offered you a small smile over breakfast. You had thought that maybe things were alright, and that he was finally over whatever had been bothering him so badly. 

But now you’re standing in the cloud of dust he just left behind after taking off in his truck without a word to anyone and you know that isn’t the case. 

“Here I was thinking I helped last night,” Lilly says under her breath. 

You snap your head in her direction. “You talked to him?”

She shrugs. “I tried to.” 

“Did he say why he’s been so upset?”

Lilly hesitates. And truthfully, you understand why. Everyone here was Tyler’s friend first. You were the last to join the crew– inducted into the group just by being Tyler’s girlfriend. They have no obligation to be loyal to you over Tyler. 

“Forget it,” you say defeatedly, turning away as soon as you feel the familiar burn of tears behind your eyes. “It doesn’t even matter.” With that, you make your way towards the RV, painfully aware of everyone’s eyes trained on you the entire way. 

…

Tyler drives to the nearest gas station, desperate for space to clear his head. 

He knows he’s being dramatic and irrational at this point, but if he stayed at that rest stop another second, he didn’t know what would come out of his mouth. He really really had to get it together. But he can’t escape the fear inside of him– the one saying that meeting Henry helped you recognize that you could do so much better than him.

And now you had his phone number, to reach out whenever that realization hit. 

Why wouldn’t you be interested in Henry? He’s got a goddamn master’s degree from Columbia, he writes articles for the Globe, works out every morning before they go chasing–  apparently makes hilarious jokes… 

Tyler rests his forehead against the steering wheel and groans.

…

Tyler’s gone for an hour. But when he finally parks the truck back at the rest stop, he hasn’t shaken the sinking feeling inside of him. 

In a preemptive attempt to avoid questions he had snagged a bunch of snacks from the nearest gas station. If you ask where he’s been, he can just say he had a hankering for potato chips and call it good. 

Except, you don’t even look at him when he gets out of the truck. Boone’s got corn hole set up in the dirt. It looks like Boone and Henry versus Dani and Dexter while you watch. He only watches for a moment before bringing the bag of snacks into the RV. 

Secretly, Tyler’s been simultaneously excited for and dreading the end of the week. He’s excited for Henry to leave and excited to sleep in his own bed. But he’s dreading being back in your shared house. It’ll be the first time the two of you are forced to be alone, and he knows he’ll have to find the words to describe what he’s been feeling. 

But apparently Tyler’s stupid, because he doesn’t even know what he’s feeling. 

All he knows is that he doesn’t want to lose you. And seeing you with Henry makes him feel like he’s about to lose you. Tyler doesn’t know how to say that to you without coming across as a total lunatic.  

…

You don’t want to cause a scene at the rest stop. But the minute you see Tyler head for the RV, you’re out of your seat and beelining it towards him while the rest of the team is distracted.

As soon as you hoist open the door, you find him hunched over the fridge, grabbing a water bottle. 

“What the hell?” is all you can manage to blurt out. You’re fuming and on the verge of tears. But you can’t help it– Tyler’s silent treatment has just about pushed you to the edge. 

Tyler whips around at the sound of your entrance… and maybe it was a little dramatic– but you need to get your point across. 

There’s a long pause while Tyler’s eyes study you. 

“Are you gonna tell me why you’ve been avoiding me all week?”

You’re met by more silence.  

“This is ridiculous, Tyler. Will you just talk to me?”

Finally, Tyler scoffs, “The reporter gave you his number, right?  Why don’t you talk to him?  I’m sure he’d love to talk.”

In an instant, a wave of understanding washes over you. But it isn’t overshadowed by the anger you feel. 

“Are you serious right now? You’re jealous of Henry?”

He shuts the fridge before cracking open his water bottle dismissively, ignoring your questions. 

“Tyler, are you forgetting that you’re the one who invited him with us this week? I mean, did you think he was just supposed to sit back and observe? He’s a reporter, of course he’s going to have questions… Questions that you were way more qualified to answer, but you were too busy being a jerk all week to answer any of them. So I did it for you–”

“I never asked for you to do that.”

“You didn’t have to– I did it for you!” you cry. “I did it so that he’d write you a good story– because you deserve that.” 

“Oh, how convenient. So you two just get along so well for my sake then?” he says. 

You exhale sharply. “Are you kidding me right now? We’ve spent the last week talking about you! I’ve been talking you up– telling him stories about what you do– how good you are at what you do– all the people you’ve helped–”

Tyler rolls his eyes. “Yeah right,” he scoffs. 

You pause, anger slowly melting away at the realization that he genuinely didn’t believe anything you were saying. 

“Tyler,” you say seriously. “There is absolutely nothing going on between me and Henry. I’ve been answering his questions and telling him how fucking brave and generous and smart you are–”

“Don’t patronize me,” he snaps, voice cracking just slightly. “Just forget it, it doesn’t matter.” He sets his water bottle on the counter before moving to step by you. 

“Tyler stop–” you say, reaching for him. But he’s too quick. He reaches the door before you’re able to stop him. 

“Will you please stop walking away from me!” you blurt out frustratedly, tears forming in your eyes. “You’ve been running from me all week– I just… I just want to talk about this. Please–”

Tyler doesn’t turn to face you, but to your relief, he stops before opening the door. 

“There is nothing happening between me and Henry, Tyler. I mean, I promise you, absolutely nothing– I… I don’t know how else to convince you. But there’s nothing going on. I’m not into Henry–”

“I know,” he says quickly, eyes squeezing shut. 

You let your mouth fall open, confusion washing over you. “What?” 

“I know there’s nothing happening between you and Henry– I trust you and I believe you.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “So why are you so mad at me?”

Tyler pauses and bites his lip before saying, “I’m not mad at you–” he tries to explain. “I just… I don’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

“I don’t understand why–”

You sigh. “Tyler, you’re not making any sense–”

Tyler’s face twists in anguish. “Why aren’t you into him?”

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s everything I’m not. And I mean– Seeing you with him– it just made me realize that you can do so much better than me,”  Tyler says desperately, the pain almost palpable in his voice. “He’s got the fancy degree– he’s obviously smart–”

You’re shaking your head before he even finishes his sentence, because the idea of anyone ever being better than Tyler was even more ludicrous than him being jealous in the first place. “Tyler, you’re smart–”

“I didn’t go to Columbia. I didn’t even finish my first year of undergrad.”

“I don’t care about any of that– you know I don’t–”

“Why?” he blurts out harshly, finally turning to look at you. “Why do you even want me when you can have someone like him?”

Tyler didn’t think he was good enough for you– and that admission broke your fucking heart. In an instant, all the reasons you loved Tyler flow through your head. There’s so many, you can’t even keep up. 

So instead, you reach into your pocket and pull out the note Henry had given you just hours earlier– the one Tyler apparently saw him give you. He watches as you unfold the piece of paper, quickly revealing that it’s not a phone number. 

“It’s his mom’s cookie recipe,” you explain. “The ones you refused to try. I talked to him about how you have a sweet tooth, and I said how much you love chocolate chip cookies, so he wrote it down for me. I thought I might be able to make them for you when we got home. Because I love you– and I love doing things that will make you happy. Because that’s what you do for me– you make me happy. All the time, just by existing.”

You watch as the realization washes over him.  

You sigh. “Did you ever stop and think about how I feel the same about you?”

He pauses before looking at you questioningly. 

“I mean, you’re you,” you say, gesturing towards him. “People adore you, Tyler. And rightfully so– but I’m always worried you’ll find someone better. But I don’t get hung up on it, because I trust you. I trust that you mean it when you tell me you love me and you choose me. And I need you to do the same for me, Tyler. I need you to trust me. Because I love you– and I always will.”

Tyler exhales, his eyes watery. 

“Can you do that?” you plead. 

To your relief, after a moment, he nods. 

You don’t hesitate before closing the gap between you and wrapping your arms around his middle. You lay your head on his chest just as his arms wind around your shoulders in an attempt to make up for all the hugs you’ve missed out on this week. Because as much as you love chasing in Oklahoma or Texas, your absolute favorite place to be is at home in his arms. 

“Cookie recipe, huh?” he muses above you, chin resting on top of your heads. 

You nod. “I’m a horrible baker, but I was going to give it a shot.”

Tyler tightens his grip around you. “Well horrible baker or not, I love you and I choose you.”

You let your eyes fall shut and inhale the familiar, comforting scent of him. “You have no idea how happy that makes me,” you say honestly. 

[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.

Masterlist | Support Me! | Part of Sin's 5k & B-Day Celebration

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 met 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 him 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

[yandere-sins]

Ever so often I go back to play some DoL and in my new run I got a bit more interested in our lovely school bully, so I looked them up and spoilered myself found some things out that inspired me to write about them ♥

Isn't it so cute when the bully starts to care a bit more about their victims than they should?

Characters: Male!Whitney (Degrees of Lewdity) x AFAB!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Non-Con, Public Sex, Derogatory Nicknames, Creampie, Fear of Pregnancy, Humiliation, Non-Consensual Picture Taking) Bullying, Posessiveness, Mental Struggles, Threats

Sobbing, you clung to him as his cock pounded into you. Merciless and without much thought to your obvious state of distress, Whitney abused your hole, grunting as he caved it out even though you had pleaded with him not to. Not like he had ever listened to you before, but you wondered if there was ever a "too much" in his books, your hopes silently shattering as you bit back a moan from escaping.

Giggles and mean comments rained down on you from the sidelines, phone shutters going off, the sound deliberately turned on so you would hear it. The embarrassment was like a cloud of heat, cooking you from the inside out and blurring your judgment. You wanted to struggle, but every bit of movement would make your body more visible, even though you wanted to hide it away more than anything. Your legs were held apart by the ankles, giving you very little support as Whitney pushed into you recklessly, but they kept you in place enough that his cock wouldn't slip out.

All while the onlookers took videos from below.

You knew better than to make more of a fool out of yourself than you already were to these bullies. They wouldn't listen to your pleas, and your screams fell on deaf ears around the almost empty school. Although you could try fighting, who were you kidding? Whitney wasn't known to be a weakling. It wasn't the first time you had to deal with him and the humiliation, but no amount of repetition made the crime less severe.

Letting out a loud sniffle, you buried your face in his chest, his grunts breaking for one push, and you felt one of his arms snake around your back as he grew even more eager. It was no embrace that could comfort you, but at least he didn't force you to face the cameras and make your expression a public amusement and the next best blackmail material.

"Hey, Whitney! Stop hoggin' them! We all want some of the fun!" some student called out, gripping your bully by the shoulder. With surprising ferocity, Whitney twisted his body around, slapping the hand away while pulling you tighter against his body.

"Fuck off!" he hissed as the student tumbled and crashed into the tables. "Y'all can get lost, you're not getting your dicks wet today!"

His movements halted while he was occupied with the groans and shouts of his peers, needing to keep them in check as they crowded close, calling him 'unfair' and a killjoy. He bit back just as aggressively, and more embarrassment flared up inside you as people got closer.

Scared, you clung to him, fingers buried in the shirt on his back, and with your legs being released, you clasped them tightly around his hips. Your pussy clenched around his cock, and Whitney hissed, the voices of the other students briefly stopping before they rose up in laughter.

"Seems like our good pal got hitched!"

"Pussy-drunk bastard!"

"Man, this is no fun. Let's go somewhere else."

Sighs turned into small talk, into discussions about where to have dinner, until all your bullies had crowded out of the room, leaving only you and Whitney behind. It was fascinating how quickly they could change their interest, how little all of this truly meant to them while the trauma clung heavily to you.

"Urgh," Whitney groaned, leaning forward until your back hit the top of the table. "Why are you sticking so close to me? Stop being a fucking leech."

"S-Sorry..."

Within seconds, Whitney had snapped his hips back against yours, burying his cock deep inside, and you grunted in response, covering your mouth to hold back the moans.

"You're really getting on my nerves—stop that!"

Tearing your hand away, Whitney pinned it to the table, leaving you defenseless. His other hand gripped the edge of the wood, giving him the leverage to pound into you, spreading your walls far apart while messing with your insides.

"Why..." you mumbled, breathless. "Why did you stop them?"

"The fuck kinda question is that? You want them to fuck you? I can call them back if that's—"

"N-No! Please don't..."

His lips curled into a mean grin as he stared down at you, eyes moving from yours to your lips, to your breasts jiggling beneath. "You owe me now, big time," he grinned, and you felt a knot form in your stomach.

Reaching down, Whitney gripped one of your thighs, lifting it higher for better access before his pace quickened. "You're so fucking done," he grunted. "I'll make your life hell, and you'll love every second of it. That'll teach you not to question me."

"S-Sorry! I just wanted to know!"

Months of bullying had worn down your defenses, and you should have known better. But Whitney had never been one to show you any mercy before, so curiosity had gotten the better of you. And like an idiot, you had fallen into his trap again.

Tears welled in your eyes as you felt another knot form in your stomach, this one much more frightening than the one before. You didn't want to come from this, didn't want to give him the satisfaction of making you come. Still, every time he pushed into you, you felt closer to that edge, toes curling. At the same time, you listened to the embarrassing sound of your pussy squelching. Whitney, too, sounded close, not afraid to let out his voice as he dug inside, fulfilling his desires primarily.

In the truest sense of the word, you two crashed hard as Whitney leaned down, lips smashing into yours as both moans collided pitifully. His hips still jerked a few times, and you gasped as you felt the hot mess he spilled inside you, fearing the worst. You absolutely couldn't get pregnant by him—what kind of sick nightmare would that have been?—but even as you tried to push him away, ramming your knees into his chest, he wouldn't budge. Usually, things ended after humiliating you, but with no one around, apparently, Whitney didn't think it was necessary to sully your face or body, leaving his cum inside you without a second thought.

"N-No!" you mewled into his savage kiss, but Whitney only grinned, rocking the table until it tilted back, forcing you to wrap your legs around his and your arms around his neck to not slip off the surface and hurt yourself. Though with this, escaping was pretty much impossible, and despite your panic, your body filled up nicely with his cum, taking every spurt he gave.

"Fuckin' hell," Whitney complained when he finally released you from the kiss, setting down the table and wiping his mouth. He looked down at you with the same condescending gaze as usual, and you wondered how pitiful you must have looked in those dark eyes of his. "You need to take classes on how to kiss, you fucking suck."

"S-Sorry," you sobbed, feeling the deliberate slow pull of Whitney as he freed his cock from your pussy, popping it out after wiping it thoroughly against your walls. Giving your left thigh a slap, he let them both drop uncaringly as he stepped back, moving his cock back into his pants and underwear and zipping it up.

"Get dressed, slut," he ordered, nodding his head in the direction of your discarded panties and skirt, and you slowly got up from your position, waddling over to your clothes with shaking knees. It didn't take a moment longer than you had pulled them up when you felt Whitney's warmth at your back, his hands snaking around your body and towards the zipper of your skirt. You held your breath as you listened to the sound of him zipping you up, giving you back some line of defense now with your clothes on.

"Just so we're clear, you're not just anyone's little plaything. Those buffoons don't get to enjoy you unless I give them permission. And today..."

You looked up at him as his hand fell to your throat, squeezing it in an attention-demanding grip. Whitney's dilated pupils searched for your gaze, locking onto it with a ferocity that made your legs quiver, a small whimper escaping you as he tightened his grip around your throat threateningly.

"Today, I really didn't feel like sharing."

Lowering his mouth to yours, Whitney nipped your lower lip with his teeth, prompting yours to part so he could stick his tongue inside. For someone who claimed he didn't enjoy your amateur kissing, you two stayed like this for a while, breaths heating up between you as the intensity rose. His eyes never strayed from you, capturing them, forcing you to look at him, and making sure your thoughts wouldn't stray from what he was doing. Whitney wanted these moments to be burned into your soul, the utmost cruelty he could muster, always making you remember the things he did to you.

With his hand positioned as it was, you didn't dare challenge him to squeeze harder, allowing him to ravage your mouth, his other hand falling on top of your skirt, cramming it up to grab your asscheek hard. The sudden pain of his palm hitting your skin made you jolt, and you whimpered into the kiss, Whitney finally pulling away. You felt your underwear damping as fluids leaked from your pussy, wetness coating your inner thighs as you were reminded of Whitney's claim on you.

"Seriously, get good," he mumbled as he pushed you aside, wiping his mouth from the excess drool you two had produced. "Next time, you'll need that sucky mouth of yours."

Passing you by, he smacked your rear once more, laughing as you jumped and hit another desk's edge, more pain flashing through you. However, when you finally got a grip on yourself, you looked up to catch him still watching you from the doorframe, almost as if he was waiting to see if you were okay.

More cum mixed with your juices ran down your legs as you squatted down, picking up your bag and books the bullies had thrown around. "I don't get it," you mumbled quietly, still feeling his gaze at your back.

"Speak up if you got something to say, clown."

Shaking your head, you walked after Whitney, who only huffed at your refusal, walking five steps ahead of you as you two made your way out of school. Something about his behavior was strange, and you had difficulty pinpointing it. But where he usually didn't seem to care about you, he stuck unnecessarily close to you that day.

"Ugh! Finally!" you heard a girl yell once you two reached the school gate. You looked up to see Whitney's clique waiting for him. He split from you and walked to them while you hurriedly marched in the other direction, as far away as possible.

"What is it with them?! Do you like that slut?!" the girl asked, the insults hurled directly at you even though her question was as ridiculous as the whole bullying.

"No," Whitney firmly denied, and for some reason, it made the knot in your stomach twist. You knew that, but it made the situation almost worse.

"But they're mine, so fuck off."

"What!" the girl screeched, and you halted in your tracks, slowly turning around to look at Whitney's back. He kept walking, unbothered by his friend's reaction. The others started to cheer and mock him, but he simply kept walking, his head slowly turning around after a few more steps.

Your eyes met.

You couldn't read his lips well from the side, but his smirk and the gleam in your eyes made you assume a thousand words he could have mimed at that moment.

Only one stuck.

Mine.

[mydearzero]

Prey | Professor!Spencer Reid x Reader

MASTERLIST

PART 2

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: You were determined to stay collected and have your professor make the first move. To make him believe he's the one desperate for you. He's onto you though. He knows what you want, what you need. And he's going to give it to you.

Warnings: Professor!Spencer, fem!Reader, Teacher/student relationship, age gap, smut, unprotected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), NO Y/N, fingering, praise kink, degradation, dacryphilia, humiliation, semi-public sex, rough sex, creampie, choking, aftercare. If I missed any warnings please tell me!

3.9K words

Criminology wasn't the first class you'd voluntarily take. It was interesting enough, really. But not at all necessary for your degree. 

You loved true crime as much as the next college-aged girl. That's what your excuse would be, at least, when people would inevitably ask why the hell you signed up for the class. But the real reason? 

You'd seen him on campus a couple times, only a semester ago. His jagged yet put-together exterior intrigued you. His eyes met yours, if only for a split second. He was perceptive. Very perceptive.

The third time you saw him meeting with the dean, you knew you were hooked. You felt yourself mouth the syllables of his name. Heard the sound falling off your lips in a whispered tone as you overheard him introduce himself to the Criminal Law professor. 

Doctor Spencer Reid. 

You'd done your research, as any self-respecting student would. He was an FBI agent working for the Behavioral Analysis Unit. He was a proper genius with several degrees under his belt, even when he was your age. 

He wasn't anymore, your age.

A notice got posted on the college's website a few days after your last sighting. Doctor Spencer Reid of the FBI would teach several seminars this semester, with voluntary attendance and limited availability. 

You signed up in a heartbeat. You told yourself it was because he was an enigma, a puzzle for you to solve. His posture, eyes and even how he spoke screamed 'Solve me!' You, someone notorious for your ability to read people, couldn't figure him out. It frustrated you. Everything about him invited you to try and peel back the layers to let you see inside. 

Were you maybe a tad too obsessed with the man without ever having spoken to him? Obviously, but you couldn't help yourself. You loved a good mystery. And this was one gorgeous mystery. 

You tried to be deliberate about everything when you entered the first seminar. Don't spare the professor a second glance, but be genuinely interested. Don't hang off every word falling from his lips but raise your hand often enough to appear engaged. You wanted him to be the one to notice you first, even if it was anything but the truth. 

But Professor Reid was a professor in his field for a good reason. He caught your calculated gaze a few times. Watched as you schooled your expression to perfection. Spencer had to admit, you were good. But he was better. He noticed how your stare dropped to his hands as he moved them while speaking. Noticed how the pattern of your breathing was unnatural. If his hearing was superhuman, he would've heard your heart beat irregularly. 

You could seek control of the situation as much as you wanted, but your body would betray you time and time again. Spencer thrived in this little cat-and-mouse game you'd tried to set him up for. He knew you'd convinced yourself you were the cat, calculated, ready to pounce. He smiled to himself at the comparison. If only you knew you were the mouse in this situation, insignificant and small under his watchful eye. Something for him to feast on.

He'd seen you that day; the first time he was on campus. Captured your observant eye with amusement simmering in his mind. He knew who you were, and why you were here, the second you walked into the classroom. You'd tried to appear confident, sure of yourself, by walking to a spot near the front without sparing anybody around you a second glance. But Spencer saw it for what it was. A nervous but powerful stride of a girl begging for a grain of validation. 

It had been brought to his attention that several girls in the class were only auditing, but not you. You were here for the real deal. You were committed to figuring him out. He could see it in the way your eyes raked over his body, reading his body language with every syllable spoken. You were genuinely interested in the subject matter, even if it was only to listen to him explain it.

He was flattered, really. Although your interest in the professor might've started as superficial as the other girls', he could see himself in the way you lost yourself in the infatuation. It wasn't just his looks that pulled you into his orbit. You were intrinsically aware of the grief, trauma and heartache he'd built up over the years. You were dying to be a part of the gravity that shaped him. 

He could see how you had the power to mould people when you had your claws in them. Though, he wasn't sure it was a conscious ability you possessed. Maybe it was just who you were. You had a need for control in every sense of the word. And God, did he want to take it away from you. 

If he didn't know any better, he'd be afraid you'd commit a string of murders if only it meant he would have to read into it. Consider every detail of the crime scene so he'd have to figure you out. It was admirable; your passion for complete dominance. But you couldn't fool Spencer. 

He saw the way you crossed your arms, bit the skin on your lips until they bled, and picked at the skin around your nails, not quite bringing them up to your mouth to bite them, knowing it would convey insecurity. You were an insecure little girl, convincing yourself of the opposite. 

Your need to understand him and domineer every situation was likely a defence mechanism, but he couldn't judge. Not when your little game got him right where you wanted him. Spencer had to applaud your dedication. The anticipation kept him on his toes every time he set foot on campus. He knew you wanted him to break, to make the first move, and he just might have to if he wanted to rid himself of the everlasting tension that seemed to have taken over his body. 

Fine. Spencer would play your little game if that's what you wanted. 

He saw you getting more confident, convinced he was falling into your trap the second he gave in. How the corners of your lips curled up ever so slightly when his gaze lingered on them. You were so caught up in your success that you failed to notice every action was premeditated on his part. It was only inevitable your eyes would light up with glee and triumph when he requested you to meet him in his office after class. 

You knocked on his door tentatively, trying to slow your racing heart. 

"Come in." Spencer's voice carried through the door. You turned the handle and stepped inside the dimly lit office. 

"You wanted to see me, Professor Reid?" You spoke as your hand lingered on the door, a calculated move to come across as unsure. It was a complete 180 of your usual behaviour in class, but it was a surefire way to let him let you in. You were no threat. 

If only you knew how true that was. 

"Yes, close the door and have a seat, please." Spencer motioned to the chair across from him. You nodded and closed the door quietly before pulling the chair out and sitting down. 

"I would like to discuss your paper with you if you don't mind." Spencer held up the printed copy he insisted everybody hand in. You scoffed when you read the specifications of the assignment. Figures he'd be old school. 

"That's fine. Is there something wrong, Professor?" You batted your eyelashes the way you knew no man could resist. The act of the meek, helpless deer. 

"There's nothing wrong with it, necessarily. I would simply like to discuss the subject matter with you. You sure picked an interesting topic." Spencer leaned against the back of his chair and interlocked his fingers as he saw you smile. 

"What can I say? Your job intrigued me. Though, as I'm sure you could tell from my essay, I can't say I completely agree with the logic behind it." You gave him a small smile to let him know you weren't antagonising but stood behind your choices. 

"Some critiques definitely can be taken into account. But it's been proven time and time again, with every case we solve through behavioural analysis, that the science and logic behind it work. Sure, we can be wrong, even way off. But it's a rare occasion." His eyebrows raised in challenge as he spoke. A small smile threatened to appear on his face as he awaited your answer.

You squinted at his apparent amusement. He wasn't taking you seriously. He knew he'd cracked you when your facade dropped. You looked genuinely offended at his lack of interest in your opinion. He almost wanted to laugh at how easy it turned out to be, to get you to drop the act. 

"Don't look so smug, Professor. It's not a good look on you." You jabbed. You cursed at yourself. That wasn't an argument. You crossed your arms as you leaned back in the chair, never breaking eye contact. 

"I must say, I'm kind of disappointed in you. You seemed to have a great grasp on the subject matter while in class, yet you failed one of the biggest requirements of the assignment." 

You frowned at his words, genuinely confused. You egged him to continue talking. 

"You see, the main requirement was to stay objective. This essay was anything but. I guess I misjudged you. I assumed you were above letting your personal opinions and vendettas get in the way of your academics. Apparently not." Spencer tsked. He was taunting you. 

"How was my essay subjective?" You asked. The more you thought back to it, the more you realized how tainted the words on the pages in his hands were by your disdain for your attraction to him. 

You hated him for making you feel the way you did, and you hadn't even realized it until now. 

"I expected factual work. The only fact I can get from this essay is that you're driving yourself crazy with how much you want me to fuck you." 

You gaped at his vulgar words. 

Hook.

"Don't look so scandalized. You knew what you were getting into when you signed up for my class. You made your bed. Now lie in it." Spencer leaned forward and placed his elbows on his desk, crossing his fingers once again. 

"I think you're full of shit, Spencer Reid." You sneered. 

Line.

"I'm sure you do, sweetheart. And it's Doctor or Professor. I'm not picky." He had the gall to laugh. 

"Profile me then, professor. If you're so damn sure of yourself." You rolled your eyes but looked at him expectantly. 

Sinker. 

"Stand up, lock the door." He instructed. You did as he asked with no rebuttal. He raised from his chair and walked around the desk. You followed him closely with your eyes, unable to predict his next steps. 

He placed a singular finger under your chin and lifted it to make you look up at him. "Good girl." He whispered with intent. You tried to give no outward reaction to the words, but as Spencer had come to predict, your body betrayed you. Goosebumps raced down your crossed arms, and your breathing hitched, even if only slightly. 

You didn't break eye contact, to Spencer's amusement. You really should've known better. 

"You want me to profile you? Sure. In your essay, you kept mentioning speculation. But, you see, it's not speculation. It's deduction. You would've known and been able to differentiate the two if you weren't so busy rubbing your thighs and biting your lips in my class." His words were accompanied by his thumb coming up to your mouth, running it over the chewed-up skin of your bottom lip. 

"You want to know what else I deduced just now?" He didn't wait for your reply as he brought his face closer to yours, leaning in to whisper in your ear. 

"I think you like being called a good girl. But not because of the validation... No... It's the implication that turns you on." His breath scalded the delicate skin of your neck as he spoke. 

You urged him to continue with your silence, breath stuck in your throat. 

"You see, most girls like you like being called a good girl because they lack external male validation. They're desperate to hear those words from anyone. Not you, though... No..." Spencer laughed before continuing. 

"You like it because it implies a level of authority. You love hearing it, especially from me, because it implies that I have the authority to decide for you what you are. And you wanna know what I think?" He leaned back a little to be able to look you in your wide eyes. He traced his finger over your jaw. 

"I think you're a little whore. You don't want someone to validate you. You need someone to completely dominate you." He grabbed your chin forcefully. A soft whimper left your lips before you could stop it. 

"Your pupils are dilated, your skin is flushed, and you're barely breathing. That's how I know I'm right. And I'm not speculating, darling." The alarmed look you gave him did nothing to deter him. 

"Get on your knees." He demanded as he let go of your chin. You did so without question. You looked up at him expectantly, heart beating in your throat. 

"Looks like I finally found a way to shut you up. Though, I can think of other ways. You're going to address me as 'Sir' from now on. You won't speak unless spoken to. Am I clear?" 

You nodded quickly, spreading your legs to alleviate the pressure quickly building. Spencer raised an eyebrow before putting his shoe between your thighs, putting even more pressure than before. 

"I asked. Am. I. Clear?" 

"Yes!" You yelped. A smile that could only be described as devilish made itself apparent on your professor's face. 

"Yes, what?" He asked as he pushed the point of his shoe further between your thighs. 

"Yes, Sir." You all but moaned as you tried to hold yourself up, keeping your back as straight as it would allow you. 

"Good girl." He said the riveting words. 

You expected him to pull his pants down and force your mouth on him, but he did no such thing. 

"You're gonna make yourself cum on my shoe. You better not make any noise." He instructed. 

"Yes, Sir." You mumbled as you slowly started grinding against him. You felt your cheeks get redder and redder in embarrassment. You were mortified at the realization that the humiliated feeling only added to the ease of your grinding, getting wetter and wetter. Your underwear was no longer doing much to keep his shoe clean. 

You looked up at Spencer, who looked unaffected. He put his hands in his pockets and sighed as if the current situation was nothing but an inconvenience to him. You slowly put your arms around his leg as you moved closer to him. 

Soft whines left your mouth as you felt yourself getting closer. You'd never felt as conflicted before. So incredibly turned on, yet so embarrassed to be basically humping his leg. 

Suddenly, Spencer ripped his leg away. You lost your support and fell flat on the floor in front of his feet. "That's enough." 

"I thought you said I had to make myself cum, Sir?" You could hear you sounded as desperate as you probably looked. 

"And I decided I'm not going to let you. Now, who said you could speak?" You quickly closed your mouth. "That's what I thought." 

He gripped your upper arm harshly and hoisted you off the floor. You dared to peek at the shoe that had just now been your seat and were embarrassed to find it reflecting the light, unlike its matte counterpart. 

Your legs wobbled as Spencer guided you to his desk. It was only now you realized the shutters weren't completely shut, light from the hallway shining down on your face as he pushed it down against the mahogany when he bent you over at the waist. Spencer followed your gaze. 

"I guess you'll really have to be quiet, baby. My office hours start in less than an hour." You met his eyes with your own panicked ones. Anybody who did as much as try and look inside past the shutters would see you bent over his desk. He brushed your hair out of your face before flipping your skirt up and examining the sight before him. 

"You soaked right through those panties of yours. Better take 'em off." He said as he hooked his fingers under them and pulled them down. You stepped out of them to the best of your ability.

Spencer picked them up, and gave them a short whiff, before walking around his desk. You didn't dare move but followed him with your eyes, confused. He looked at you as he unlocked a drawer, put them inside, and locked it again. You weren't getting those back. 

He walked back around and admired the sight for a little before he unexpectantly gave your ass a harsh smack. You closed your eyes tightly as you felt yourself get wetter at the stinging sensation it left behind. 

You jumped as he pushed two fingers inside without preparation. He placed his other hand on your back to push you back down against the desk. His eyes were warning you to stay still as he moved his finger expertly inside you. He brought his thumb to your clit, and you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from making any noise. The circumstances from before had ensured you were nearing the edge concerningly fast. 

When Spencer sped up, you brought a hand to your mouth to muffle any noise. You felt your eyes tear up at the intensity of the sensation, so you squeezed them closed. Just as you were about to fall over the edge, Spencer stepped away. His weight against you was what was keeping you up. You felt your knees buckle as a desperate cry left your lips. 

"Please, Spencer. Please." 

He looked furious as he grabbed your shoulders, turning you around and pushing you back on the desk. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. He pushed your shirt up, exposing more skin to him. He tugged your bra down, not bothering to unclasp it. He tugged roughly at your nipples, making you keen, and the tears finally spill from your eyes. 

"Not so tough now, huh?" He mumbled as he undid his belt with one hand. The other was still pawing at your crudely exposed breasts. He didn't bother properly pulling his pants down, only taking his cock out of its confines. You imagined you looked downright filthy compared to how composed the man in front of you still managed to appear. There was a stain on his pants from where your crotch had met his, but other than that, he was pristine. 

He gave his cock a few tugs before lining himself up, grabbing your thighs and pushing inside. You couldn't contain the guttural groan that escaped you as the strength of his thrust forced your head off the desk, hanging over the edge. He didn't care as he started pounding away, using his grip on your thighs as leverage. 

You could barely breathe, the angle of your neck not allowing much air to flow. Your ears started to ring as blood pooled in your head, making you dizzy as Spencer kept his brutal pace. You tried gripping his arms to pull yourself back up before you passed out, but hardly to any avail. Spencer noticed your struggle and pulled your head back on the desk. The blood rushing back down, along with a particularly harsh thrust, had you moaning his name. 

You heard his haggard breath as he continued filling you again and again. The sensation of him inside you drove you crazy, the tears from earlier still fresh on your cheeks. Low groans fell from Spencer's lips when one of his hands moved to your clit, rubbing rough circles. 

Just as you'd recovered from your little upside-down stint, Spencer brought the hand still resting on your thigh up to your throat, reclaiming your ability to breathe freely. He squeezed in the exact right spot. Your hands moved to his wrist, not to get him to stop, but as leverage. 

"You look so good like this, like a slut for your Professor. Crying on my cock while I decide if you get to breathe." You moaned as your nails dug harshly into his wrist. You were slowly getting lightheaded again. 

"You're gonna cum on my cock when I tell you to." He spoke through the sound of skin hitting skin. His voice was strained, low moans reaching your ears.

"Yes, Sir." You struggled to get the words out. 

"Good girl," Spencer said once more, giving a few more intentional thrusts deep inside you. A noise that could only be classified as a scream bubbles straight out of your chest when he hit the right spot over and over and over again. He finally released the hold on your neck. 

"Cum." The demand had barely reached your ears as your vision went white. You felt his hips stutter against your own, shooting his load in tandem with your own orgasm. 

He slowly pulled out and admired the sight of you still trying to recover, legs wide open, dripping with his cum on his desk. 

You were on the edge of hyperventilating, all the sensations overwhelming you. Spencer slowly helped you sit up, careful to not let your privates touch the harsh wood of the desk. You let yourself fall against his chest as he held you up.

"Hey, hey. You're okay. Come on, look at me." He spoke softly, in complete contrast to just mere minutes ago. You met his eyes, which had softened tremendously. 

"I'm sorry if I was too harsh on you." He quietly apologized, wiping the stray tears from your cheeks. 

You shook your head. "No, no... You were right. That was exactly what I needed, I suppose. Good profiler." You chuckled emptily. 

Spencer stifled a laugh as he wrapped his arms around you. "Next time, you can just ask for what you want, okay? No more of this little game." 

"It was fun, though. Guess I underestimated you, Sir." 

Spencer groaned at the title. 

"Too soon, baby girl. Maybe clean yourself up before going there again." 

You winced as you felt a trickle of his cum down your leg. 

"Yeah, maybe." You grimaced. You were going to be sore for the next week.

He lifted your face to his, the action feeling a lot less domineering. His eyes were gentle as he slowly leaned in, placing a delicate kiss on your lips. 

"You'll still need to rewrite that essay." He muttered as he pulled away. 

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, hitting his shoulder lightly before giving him a peck. "Sure thing, Professor." 

PART 2

[motorsportbarbie13]

Forbidden - Part 1

In which you reconnect with an old friend, much to the dismay of your brother.

Warnings: None. This is mostly background and will be several parts.

Pairing: Max Verstappen x LeClercSister!Reader Word Count: 2.6k words Masterlist Here

It started slowly, this thing between your brother's best friend and biggest rival and you. So slowly that you hadn't been directly involved, you probably wouldn't have even noticed the clandestine brushing of fingers to skin in the paddock or the flickering looks that lingered just a bit too long. Even the way Max managed to stare at you from his garage went unnoticed by everyone but you. But what started slowly over one summer quickly snowballed into something that nearly destroyed you both.

You'd known Max since you were young, of course, so maybe that was why the pair of you managed to keep things hidden for so long. You two being friendly wasn't all that out of the ordinary so maybe that was why it took people longer to connect the dots. You two had always been friends, but it was a quiet friendship so not many people picked up on it, even back then. But he had always been firmly in the ‘my brother’s best friend and track rival’ category for as long as you could remember.

Did it drive you crazy that they were much quicker to involve your younger brother, Arthur, in their antics instead of you? Yes. But Charlie and his friends were like the untouchable super hero's you watched in movies: larger than life and totally invincible so you always lapped up any ounce of attention they gave you.

As you got older though, your trips to the track became less and less frequent with you picking up your own interests. You traded weekends at the track for weekends spent with friends your own age who didn't worship the ground your brother and his friends walked on. Before long, you were headed off to university in New York City, wanting a bit of space from your famous brother and his aura. You loved Charlie and Arthur to death, they were your favorite people in the world after all, but it was difficult being the 'normal' sister to such talented men and the space had allowed you to thrive on your own, in your own way. 

You went home to Monaco infrequently, the trip from New York to the small principality being just long enough to be annoying to do regularly and traveled to races even less. It wasn’t that you didn’t support Charlie. You always made sure to be at his home race in Monaco and the race in Monza of course, but your life was in New York. First it was your rigorous coursework for your degree in economics from NYU that kept you away and then you continued on with a Master’s degree in economics and international business, the intensity of both programs serving you well crafted excuses for years. 

“You’re really going to come travel with us?” Charlie was unable to hide his surprise and excitement this morning when you called to tell him your post-graduation plans. 

“It’s been the hardest year of my life, between my thesis, interning at the investment firm in Manhattan, and finishing up grad school, I’ve barely had a chance to breathe for years. I need a break Charlie.” You sigh, settling into your couch that faces the floor to ceiling windows in your New York apartment that was currently full of packing boxes. 

“I know you do. You’re the hardest working person in this family.” 

You chuckle, knowing that this wasn’t true. Your two brothers worked just as hard, if not harder, at their careers in motorsport. There was no way Charlie would have reached F1 if he hadn’t been a hard worker. You might be the smartest LeClerc though, although you knew Arthur would never admit to that even if Charlie would. 

“What happened to that job in London?” 

You pick at an invisible piece of lint, wanting to avoid the question, as you shrug even though your brother couldn’t see you. “I told them I wasn’t interested. They wanted too much from me and I’m just so close to being burnt out. I’m taking on a consulting gig with the Bank of London. They’ve agreed to allow me to work remotely so I can live in Monaco and travel. I’ve missed so much of your career Charlie, I hate that I’ve been so absent from everyone for so long.” 

Charlie’s voice goes soft at the sound of regret in your voice, “Oh, petit papillon.” My little butterfly. You can’t help but smile at the nickname, despite the melancholy mood that had settled over you. “We know you did what you had to do to make you happy, we don’t blame you for being gone for so long. All that matters now is that your studies are done and we get to see you more.” 

Your heart warms in your chest. Of course Charlie hadn’t held your distance against you, it wasn’t in his nature to hold grudges against you, even when you fought the hardest. “I’m so excited to come home, Charlie.” 

*Six Weeks Later*

A faint tapping on the front door catches your attention from where you sat in Charlie’s living room, staring at the same spreadsheet you had been working on for the last hour. “Saved by the knock.” You mutter, getting up from your spot on you’re brother’s couch. You’ve spent so much time on the plush piece of furniture over the last few days, busy with work, that you’re surprised there’s not a permanent indent of your backside on the cushion. 

Finding an apartment in Monaco was proving harder than you had thought. Every flat you looked at in the city was either so far out of your price range or was missing something you deemed essential to have in your living space so for the time being you were staying with Charlie and Alexandra in their guest bedroom until the right place came around. 

“Coming!” You call out, hoping to alert the person knocking on the front door to your approach. Although you couldn’t fathom who would be at the door in the middle of the day on a Tuesday afternoon. You quickly run through an inventory of where the important people in your life were: Charlie was at a sponsor event while Alex was at doing some content creation in Paris for the gallery that she worked for. Your mother was at work of course and Arthur was off somewhere with his girlfriend Jade today. Everyone accounted for and busy. 

Without checking the peephole, you swing the door open wide, relieved for an excuse to take a break from the project that had found its way to your inbox early this morning. 

“Maxie!” You gasp, launching yourself into the unprepared arms of the Dutchman who you hadn’t seen in years. 

Max was thankful for his quick reflexes that were required of a world championship winning F1 driver because without them, the two of you would have found yourselves in a heap of limbs on the floor. “Beestje! You nearly took me out.” Max sets you down carefully but not before you have a chance to swat at his arm. 

“You know I hate when you call me that.” You pout, nipping at his finger when he teasingly swipes at your lip. Max had called you ‘little beast’ for as long as you could remember, always delighting in your cries of protest when he did. If there was one thing Max loved, it was teasing Charlie’s sister.  

He grins down at you, dimples winking out at the corner of his mouth. “That’s why I do it.” 

Rolling your eyes, you open the door wide enough to allow the both of you to enter the empty apartment. Max follows you into the living room, where your computer sits discarded. 

“I didn’t know you were visiting.” Max says, trying to remain calm as you settle down on the couch opposite of him. 

You had always been gorgeous, those good looking LeClerc genes that Charles was so famous for had obviously been passed on to you as well, but now? You were hands down the most stunning woman Max had ever seen in his entire life. Your social media presence was sparse, at best, so while he followed you, it was rare for you to post much of anything. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw you in person either, knowing that you much preferred to avoid the harsh light of fame that came with being a LeClerc. 

“Charlie didn’t tell you? I moved back!” You wave a hand towards your laptop, “I got a job with the Bank of London doing consulting work, fully remote.” 

“No, Charles didn’t tell me.” Max says, narrowing his eyes. He had just played padel with Charles and Carlos the other day and he hadn’t made a single mention of you being back. “Where is he, anyway? I came by to see if he wanted to go for a run tonight.” 

You shrug, trying to force your heart rate to slow to a pace that couldn’t potentially be heard by people playing the slots at the famous Monte Carlo Casino down the street. You had always had a juvenile crush on Max. Honestly, who wouldn’t? His demeanor on the track and in the paddock was completely opposite of who he was in private. You may have not spent much, if any, time with him the past decade but you knew that the Max that had been your brother’s childhood best friend and rival was the same Max sitting next to you right now. Nothing had changed.

“He’s at some event for Ferrari. I’ll never understand why people want to pay thousands of dollars to get to talk to the likes of you chuckle heads. How would those donors feel knowing they invested so much in a person that once got so drunk on their birthday they thought the Uber driver was trying to kidnap them because they, and I quote, ‘could totally make a killing with the ransom Christian would pay to get me back.’” 

“That was ONE time!” He croaks, blinking at you in surprise. “And how the fuck did you know about that? Charles swore he’d never tell anyone about that.” 

You can’t help the laughter that bubbles out and Max momentarily forgets how embarrassed he is that you know that story. It’s light and airy, the notes dragging their fingers down Max’s skin. “I’m not ‘anyone’, Maxie darling. You know that.” 

And boy did he. Just the way you wink at him while calling him ‘Maxie darling’ is enough to send his mind into overdrive, wondering how it would feel if more of your attention was turned his way. 

Max just smirks back, fighting to keep up the cool facade he’s usually got so carefully constructed in place. He expertly steers the conversation away from anymore potentially embarrassing stories and towards you. How you’ve been. The near year you spent writing your thesis paper for your Master’s degree. The life you’ve built so far away from Max. It makes his heart squeeze something fierce knowing that you two have drifted so far apart.

Before you know it, the sun is sinking low in the sky, casting a glittering glow over the water just outside the apartment. The sunlight filters in through the half-drawn curtains, bathing you in a golden light. Max had never understood why everyone raves about the beauty of ‘golden hour’ until he saw the setting sun reflected in your eyes. 

He was in so much trouble. 

You two are so lost in your conversation you don’t notice the front door swing open or Charles bustling through the door hours later. Charles pauses when he sees the two of you sat on the couch together. Somewhere between the first and second glass of wine that you had poured when it became evident neither of you wanted the afternoon to end, you had ended up quite close to Max. His hand sat outstretched over the back of the couch, hovering just out of reach of your shoulder. You were leaning into him ever so slightly, laughing at something Max had said moments before. The obvious intimacy between the two of you set off alarm bells for Charles, not liking how Max was looking at you over the rim of his wine glass. 

The thing was, Charles is quite protective of you. It was one of the reasons you always tried to leave the details about your love life out of any conversation you had with either of your brothers. Arthur was bad enough, but your twin? Charles was of the opinion that no one was ever good enough for you. Especially someone like Max. While he wasn’t as bad as some of the guys on the grid (lookin at you Lando Norris), Max still liked to party and take advantage of how often pretty girls threw themselves at him. He did not want someone like that interested in his sister. He knew how much you valued your privacy and that was not something someone like Max could offer you. 

“What’s going on here?” Charles fought to keep the hostility out of his voice, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Max jumped off the couch like it had suddenly burst into flames. He knew how protective Charles was over you and judging by the stormy look on your brother’s face, he wasn’t happy to find him there tonight. 

You, on the other hand, found it amusing how quickly your brother’s protective side reared it’s ugly head. There was nothing to be ashamed of, you knew that. You were just two friends catching up after being apart for so long. Totally innocent. Right? Right. 

“Max stopped by to see if you wanted to go on a run and we just got lost in conversation is all, Charlie.” You sooth, knowing your brother has a short fuse when it comes to you. 

Charles narrows his eyes at Max as if he doesn’t believe your words and to be honest, he probably shouldn’t. If he had known the thoughts racing through Max’s head over the last few hours, Max would have probably found himself in the gravel pit of whatever race was next on the calendar. 

“I was just leaving.” Max stutters, glancing down at where you still sit on the couch, amused grin playing at the corner of your lips. 

“It was nice to see you Maxie.” 

Max doesn’t miss the way Charles clenches his fists when you say his name like that. 

“Always a pleasure, Beestje.” He teases, hoping that Charles doesn’t pick up on the nervous waver in his voice. 

You tip your wine glass towards him in a mock salute before picking up your laptop where it’s sat discarded for the last few hours while Max makes a beeline for the front door. Charles follows him out, eyes trained on the back of his friends head, trying to calm the storm of anger that is swirling around his gut. 

“I don’t think it needs to be said but stay away from my sister.” Charles practically growls when Max’s hand closes over the doorknob. 

“We’re just friends Charles. I haven’t seen her in ages, we were just catching up.” 

“I don’t look at my friends the way you were just looking at her.” Charles grouses. “Just don’t, okay? I don’t want to give her any reason to leave again. If you hurt her, she’ll go running. Leave her alone.” 

Max nods, unable to find the words he wants to use because he has a feeling ‘fuck you, I’ll do whatever I want with your sister’ seems like a bad way to end the conversation. But as he waits for the elevator in the quiet hall, he knows that staying away from you is going to be near impossible. 

[jymwahuwu]

can u recommend any good yandere porn games? 👉👈

Would you be disappointed in me if I said… most of the porn games I play are male-vision porn games and imagine myself as the innocent protagonist being gangbang and noncon? >_< Sorry I'm so hardcore sometimes…

I looked through the games and found the following:

14 days with you

"After moving back to Corland Bay, things have started to become more... unsettling. Your laundry always seems to go missing, creepy footsteps echo down your hallway at night, and to top it all off, your neighbour swears that she saw someone leave your apartment late last night. But hey… at least the pink-haired stranger you met at work is there to keep you safe."

"14 Days With You" is an 18+ romance/horror visual novel centred around Ren; a mysterious individual who seems more than obsessed with you — and is willing to do anything he can to have you.

Artificial Academy 2

I played this a long time ago, and I remember that player could create a male or female character as a yandere! And the character you controlled could fall in love with those characters, but the campus life was relatively monotonous and boring.

Degrees of Lewdity

Degrees of Lewdity is an erotic game. You play an 18-year-old boy or girl in a town full of people with lewd intentions. Go to school and find honest work, turn to a life of crime, or sell your body in more carnal ways. The game has strong sexual themes, and lots of sex in general. You can choose the gender of the people who'll be attracted to you, and fetishes such as tentacles can be toggled off in settings.

Super famous game!! Lots of free choices and kinky encounters, just be aware that even passersby on the street will want to force the player… There is a yandere character in Love Interests, called Kylar, but I think Eden is actually a yandere too.