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charles-leclerizz · 2 months

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🏎️ ๋࣭ ⭑blue views

🏁 Pairings : Carlos Sainz X fem! Reader

🏁 Warnings : smut [nothing major, listed at the end of the writing], fluff, stress [which is aliviated by the smut]

🏁 Word Count : 3.6k words (3612 words)

🏁 Summary : It’s time to celebrate! For everyone else that is. You, on the other hand, will be planning your’s and your fiance’s “engagement week” festivities, until you die. That is, until an impromptu intervention is planned.

🏁 translations via radio comm below

🏁 credits : word dividers by @heavenlayt

🏁 Music player : Good to be by Mark Ambor

“Carlos!” You shouted out, leaning back against the heel of your soft wedges as you reached behind you for more cocktail glasses. The sound of your fiancé’s loafers against the terracotta staircase echoed throughout the ground level as he made his way to the kitchen, where you were working alongside half a dozen cooks.

“Si, Mariposa?” He came up behind you, plucking the crystal margarita glass from your fingers and taking a sip of the peachy, carbonated concoction that you had masterfully created. You giggled when he hummed happily and kissed your neck, “It’s delicious.”

“Ay, Ay, Señor. Tienes que esperar a la luna de miel” An elderly voice scolded from your left followed with a hollow bonk. Carlos hissed, rubbing the back of his head where a thick wooden rolling pin had struck him playfully, “You wound me, Maria.”

He followed with a pained “Literally.” When Maria had merely shot him a fond look over her shoulder as she went back to washing the tomatoes in the deep-set ceramic sink.

“You’re absolutely sure that everyone got the invites?” You leaned down to inspect the dozen drinks that you had made, “Because we invited at least 60 people, and if I make 60 drinks and there are not exactly 60 throats present to ingest them. You are going to remain abstinent until we’re married.”

Carlos stared at you open mouthed, a betrayed expression overtook his face, “So you would choose Maria’s wishes over mine? muy cruel.” He then bought his hands up from your waist to brush your hair from your shoulder, dragging his fingers up your arm-he slipped off the thin spaghetti strap of your white, cotton summer dress to press short, sweet kisses on your skin, “I mean can you really resist this?” He reasoned.

“It would be very easy Mi Amour.” You harrumphed, ignoring the tingling shocks that fluttered beneath your skin at the drag of his lips against your shoulder. You jolted forward when you felt his other hand travel from your waist, down to the front of your dress, “Carlos- I have so much to do. I mean I promised Alex and Lily I would make trifle for dessert, but then your parents have this one friend who hates custard! I mean did you hear the story, he literally puked, and I will not have him puke in my engagement party, nope. Not on my watch.”

You wagged your finger in the air before grabbing another five glasses from their upside-down position on the kitchen island where you were working. Taking the washcloth that sat comofortably in the front pocket of your plaid apron, you began wiping away the droplets of water from the crystal before continuing to babble about your long list of duties for the upcoming week of festivities.

“So, I need to also make these cute fruit tarts that I made that one time. But then I realised that Charles and Max hate kiwi, and the whole dessert is basically that, so for them I’m making this great chocolate gateau, the one at the restaurant? Since they really fucking liked that one.”

You grumbled out the last part, crushing up your freshly picked strawberries that had previously been resting in a metal strainer along with a cream, cotton cover up to keep them moist. The marble mortar grinded against the matching pestle as the sweet fruits reduced to a thick paste.

“On top of that the other like, 40 guests have very specific wants, so I have 20 different things to make along with this signature drink that Jenni designed for us! You know her, right? the bar tender at the other restaurant in Monaco, I learnt how to make it, and you said its good. It’s good right?”

You add a few cups of carbonated water to the pinkish paste in front of you, before turning back to Carlos, who had been patiently listening to you rant- mainly due to the fear that if he were to stop, you would give his ear the same treatment as the berries that remain crushed beneath you, “Si, mi mariposa. Very good.”

You sighed before fully spinning around to face him, resting your back on the dark wood counter, looping your hands around his neck, “I’m sorry Carlito.” You brush a singular strand of hair that fell from its carefully crafted style onto his forehead, “This isn’t very fun for you, is it?” You move onto your tiptoes to reach his cheek.

“Nonsense, I have Papa and Guillermo coming to help with the decorations outside, I think Blanca and Mama are also coming- to help.” He chuckles when you groan happily and bring his head down to kiss his lips graciously.

“Thank you, Mi Amour.” You murmur against his mouth, running your fingers through his hair as his arms came to circle your waist, pulling you against his chest. You sigh against him, melting in his embrace as you barely manage to hold yourself up and anchor yourself on his broad shoulders that strain against the baby blue polo top, he chose to wear.

“AY, SEÑOR,” Maria bumped Carlos slightly as she came rushing through the walkway, trotting determinedly through the low, exposed brick archway and outside to the patio area that was protected from the morning sunrays by the lattice structure that stood tall whilst being overtaken by winding ivy.

Beneath this, Maria sat down at least 3 trays full of freshly sliced vegetables, sun drying them as preparation for the multiple dishes that would be served that evening, “Si no estás aquí para aportar nada útil, sal de la cocina.” She screeched whilst heading to the other side of your estate, towards the large garden that housed many seasoned plants, ready with multiple fruits and vegetables for plucking.

“I think she will cook me next.” He shuddered before laying his forehead on yours, “Do not worry, Mariposa. Everything will turn out fine.”

“Why did I suggest an engagement week.” You pouted, nuzzling your head into his chest, to hide away from all the responsibilities you had brought onto yourself. You shake your head wildly, causing flurries of hair to escape from the bun you had messily done up, “All I know is that it must go well. Maria will for sure have a heart attack if it doesn’t,”

“I still think it’s a good idea” He comforts you, until the melodic sound of the doorbell resounds throughout the house, and he detaches from you, “That must be the back-up.” He winks at you as he jogs off to open the large, rustic door. You watch from the kitchen as Carlos laughs boisterously whilst embracing his family.

His mother and sister quickly wave him off, ushering the men out to the acres of back garden they have yet to decorate to approach you.

Blanca dances up to you, wiggling her arms and hands excitedly as she beams at your exhausted face, “There she is! Beautiful bride-to-be, our mariposa.” The knee length dress she chose skims her legs as the burgundy silk falls from her shoulders delicately, she hugs your neck tightly, swinging you both side to side whilst you flail around.

“Hola, diabla.” You chuckle, catching your mother-in-law’s eyes, you wait until Blanca removes herself from you for Reyes to do the same, but instead of violently rotating you like a ragdoll, she rubs your back and coos sympathetically.

“Ay mi muñeca, you look too tired to be a blushing bride.” She moves her arms from being drawn around your neck to rub your shoulders.

“What can I say? There’s too much to be done for me to be blushing.” You shrug, already going back to pouring out 10 more drinks, adding to the sea of glasses in front of you.

Blanca tuts disapprovingly, “This is not what being engaged is meant to be, it’s meant to be fun! And new! And sexy!” She waggles her eyebrows suggestively, ignoring her mother who had picked up your to-do list and hid her face in the paper.

“Blanca, please.” Reyes rolled her eyes, “But she’s not wrong.” She reaches for a spare apron that hung rejected on the back of the pantry door.

“No, mamá please,” You attempt to snatch the apron away from Reyes, who tuts disapprovingly and had already begun to collect multiple utensils from your spacious kitchen whilst talking quickly with the cooks who had been diligently making progress on the rest of the menu, “I can’t possibly allow you to do my work.”

Blanca plucked the neatly tied bow around your waist, undoing the stained, pale blue cotton that protected your dress, “No, your job is to relax, and let my culo brother treat you nicely. Champagne, strawberries, chocolate.” She listed off the aphrodisiacs one by one, pushing you through the living room and up the stairs. You braced yourself on the railing as you let her guide you through the landing.

“I have all of that in the food that I should be making,” You whined, stomping your foot, and swivelling to level her with your eyes, “There is just too much to do before tonight. And the boys don’t even know what to do for decorations.”

Blanca swatted her hand through the air, as if physically plummeting away your doubts, “You’ve had the entire family added on your Pinterest board.” You snorted at that, but pressed your lips together when she shot you a look, “If I can’t whip them into shape, consider me a bad sister from day 1.” She planted her hands on her waist before pointing at your bedroom door, “Now either you can start yourself a bath, or I will.”

You harrumph and dig your feet into their spot on the newly waxed, wooden floors beneath you, “I see how it is.” Blanca squints her eyes at you, “Fine, I see how it is.”

You half expect her to push you into the room, but instead she leans over the banister and shouts, “CARLOS !!”

“Blanca!” You gasp, grabbing her dress and tugging her back from the beam, “W-Why would you?” You splutter.

“AY CARLOS !!” She continues to screech until you slap a palm over her mouth, careful of the nude brown lipstick she had worn.

“Si diabla?” Your fiancé shouts back up, already at the base of the staircase. Blanca licks your hand, causing you to yelp and jump back, giving her the perfect opportunity to answer, “Your fiancé is anxious as fuck.”

“What else is new?” He chuckles, hand braced on the railing as he emerges from the winding staircase. Carlos takes in the new scene, you are tackling Blanca onto the floor, she’s squealing whilst attempting to wrangle free from you, tummy first on the floor, “Mi amour, if you are going to leave me for my sister...” He starts, crossing his arms and tilting his head at you.

“You both are insufferable.” You grit out, twisting the knob to your bedroom, wating for Carlos to step inside. He stops momentarily when Blanca darts an arm out and begins to ramble to him in Spanish, Carlos answers just as quickly before his sister reaches up to smack the underside of his head.

“Blanca!” He shouts out after her, but she ignores him and sprints downstairs to assist with the preparations. Carlos turns back to you, slumping forward to rest his head against the door frame that you were currently leaning on, arms folded amusedly as you looked at him from under your eyelashes. He pivots his neck, gazing fondly into your eyes, “You’re pretty.” He mumbles, bringing a limp hand up to rest on your cheek, thumb moving soothingly against your face. You lean into his touch, “So are you” You breathe out, leaning upwards to ghost your lips over his.

This moment was merely poetic, the two of you, finding respite in the chaos within each other. His soft touch as he leaned forward for more, you grant it, because you craved him as deeply as he did for you. The astringent sweetness of his lips against yours and the heavenly feeling of his fingers cradling your hips made you moan out as he caught you weight when your knees gave out from beneath you.

The door creaked shut behind the two of you, your palms digging into the waistline of his shorts to tug his shirt out, his fingers dance down from your neck to the large cut-out of your dress that showed off the curve of your spine. Carlos broke away from you momentarily, his eyes still shut as he chuckled when you whined, chasing his lips desperately, “Jump,” He murmured, bracing himself by tugging you close and digging his fingers into the back of your thighs.

You complied, hopping into his secure hold before attaching your mouth to his once again, nipping at his full bottom lip. Carlos passed through the bedroom with ease, his muscle memory allowing him to walk underneath the long archway that led to your shared bathroom. He released you gently, his fingers pinching the hem of your dress on your way down, he bunched up the flowy linen, dragging it up to your waist and tugging it over your head- leaving you in just a pair of white, lacy underwear.

You laughed slightly, your hair mussed at taking over half of your face, “Carlos” you huff out. He laughs at your annoyance, gently moving the strands out of your eyes before tracing the dips and curves of your chest and stomach with feather-light touches.

Sighing, you tilt your head back, allowing him to press his lips against the column of your neck. You loop your hands around his neck, stumbling backwards towards the sink whilst bringing him with you. Carlos hoists you up and onto the counter, finally stepping back to gaze at your naked body, his eyes ravish you, the stiff peaks of your breasts and curve of your stomach, you watch him intently when he finally makes his way down to your panties, a damp patch already forming.

Carlos approaches you once again, his breath fresh and minty against your skin, “Tan bonita.” He compliments, trailing warm, open mouth kisses on your collar bone, starting from your shoulder until he reaches your sternum, “Tan deliciosa.” He moves to your breast, decorating it with his own purple-ish love marks, he littered them across until he enveloped your nipple into his mouth, his tongue licking against the pebble until it hardened beneath his attention.

Carlos turned his attention to the other whilst his other hand slipped beneath the elastic of your underwear, his middle finger teasing your wet slit, “all for me?” he moaned against your breast.

“of course.” You bury your hand in his hair, arching into his touch before he lowered to his knees in front of you.

“F-fuck” you whine, biting your lip harshly as he settles between your legs, he shucks you closer, harshly tugging you to the edge of the counter as he inches his mouth closer, hot breathe settling on the front of your underwear. You arch your back at the feeling, fingers teasing your peaked nipple, “please,” you whisper, eyes darting down to where Carlos had begun to lave lazily at your newly soaked panties.

“Please what? Huh?” He whispers, tongue darting out to push further into your throbbing hole. You whine, thighs threatening to clamp shut around his head, your hand inches down to shyly tug at his hair and guide him closer to your leaking cunt, “can’t even talk now? ‘s okay mariposa. I’ll take care of you.” He promises, laying one of your legs over his shoulder.

You breathe hitches slightly when you feel him drag his lips up your hip, only for his teeth to sink into your underwear band, trailing it off you.

You scrunch your eyes with a gasp when his kisses trail up from your ankle, to your calf and towards the inside of your thigh- you growl playfully when you hear him chuckle and coo up at you, “you were just stressed...” he pressed an open mouthed kiss to your skin, “being so diligent..” he continued, tongue ghosting over your leaking folds, “so perfect.”

“Carlos,” You moan, scratching your nails against his scalp, “you’re being mean. Hah. It’s not good to be mean to your future wi-“you cut yourself off with a scream, well, a muffled one, you managed to cover your agape mouth with your hand. He dove into your sex, tongue searing through you as he fucked the muscle steadily into you, curling it to poke gently at the sensitive, spongy part within you.

Carlos let his eyes flutter shut, the sweet taste of you staining itself onto his tongue, how he could stay like this forever, fuck the dinner, he only ever wanted to taste you. Only you.

“taste so good,” he panted against you, his tongue nudging your clit, in an oh-so delicious way that made you bite down on your fingers to stop your needy moans leaking down from the open, semi-circle window towards your in-laws, who were dedicatedly preparing your back garden to host a multitude of people.

“uh uh mariposa, quiero oír tu voz.” He reached up with one hand, tugging your palm away from your still open mouth.

“I-“you gulp heavily, trying to unscramble your mind from its mush state, “I- wan’ want more, need you to- do something please.” You bring your other leg to his shoulder, locking him between your limbs.

Carlos huffs out a laugh, biting playfully at your tender skin, he brings up one hand laying his fingers gently against your pussy lips, creating a ‘V’ to spread them wide, exposing the sensitive area to the midday warmth. And then, he spat, a fat string slowly drips from his mouth to land directly on your hole, he gawks at it with interest, his large puppy-dog eyes shining with lust.

You blush and cover your face, “come on- please? I’ve been soo good, did ever’thin you wanted.” You babbled, gyrating your hips against his face, baiting him into pleasuring you again until the delicious wave reached the crown of your skull until the tips of your toes.

“have you? You been my good girl? Hm?” He arches a brow at you, but stops you from answering when he lays his tongue flat against your clit, gently shaking his head side to side until you begin to shake and whine, “yeah, I know mi amor, se siente bien, ¿sí?” he whispers, prodding you cunt with his index finger, “you want it, don’t you?”

You hummed, eyes widening as though he had proposed all over again, “yeah, come on, please, pretty please with a- ahh,” once again, he wouldn’t let you finish your pleading, instead, he answered you with your prize, him pushing his fingers into you, your wetness dripping down into his palm and along his wrist.

Obscene squelches echoed through the bathroom, along with explicit sounds of his knuckles slapping against your skin and your high-pitched moans.

“yes- oh, don’t stop.” You sobbed, tears pricking at your eyes when he thrusted in a second finger, stretching you out whilst he crooked his digits to continue stimulating your g-spot mercilessly.

“don’t plan on it,” he promised, delving back in for another sacred taste, he tongue worked wonders against you, drinking in your nectar as though from the gods- letting in slip down his throat graciously. You groaned and bit your lip harshly, arching your back at angles that chiropractors would wince at until you could feel that euphoric feeling begin to bloom within your stomach.

Your walls fluttered around Carlos’ fingers, making him smirk against you and continue his movements, hungrily licking and slurping at you until your toes curled and eyes crossed over, “fuck,” you grit out, gasping laboriously as the tight knot finally snapped and torrential pleasure rained over you.

“te entendí my love,” He crawled over you, bracing himself above with his hands planted on the thick, white marble countertop you were currently blissed out on.

You brought your shaky hands up to his face, kissing him gently, “what about-hah, what about you,” you panted, wrapping your arms around him, continuing to softly brush your lips against his face. His temple, stubbled cheek, and muscled neck.

“We still have-“ He looked down at the heavy, silver Rolex on his wrist, “40 minutes, until Blanca comes hunting for us.” Carlos looked over to the floating bath that sat in front of the Juliet balcony, “and we have a bath.”

“That is just by a huge ass window,” You reminded him, glancing over to the open doors, revealing the intricate black grill of the balcony along with the pristine view of your tall trees that lined the well-kept entertaining space of your garden.

“Well, I doubt they don’t know what’s going on, I mean, my sister probably told them to leave a box of condoms outside.” He shrugged.

“In that case,” You started, your low whisper a mere breath of warm air between the two of you. Marinating hard and heady eye contact with him, you reached down to take his hand in yours, then slipped the two fingers that still dripped with your wetness, into your mouth.

Carlos stared at the sight, a short, strangled noise leaving him when you popped out his digits with an all too innocent noise, “Better make the most of it,” You leaned back against the mirror, hand open for him to carry you.

He groaned, shaking his head slightly before hoisting you in his arms, “best 40 minutes of my life.”

[Smut warnings : alot of kissing, fingering, sucking, love-bites, fem! oral recieving, fem! fingering recieving.]

📻 Kcccchh.... come in.... come in...translatiion available...over

📻 Kchh...Spnish..to engli..sh....over

Ay, Ay, Señor. Tienes que esperar a la luna de miel - Oh, Oh, Lord. You have to wait for the honeymoon

muy cruel - very cruel

AY, SEÑOR - OH, SIR

Si no estás aquí para aportar nada útil, sal de la cocina - If you're not here to contribute anything useful, get out of the kitchen.

mariposa - butterfly

Hola, diabla - Hello, devil

Ay mi muñeca - Oh, my doll

Si, diabla? - Yes, devil?

Mi amour - My love

Tan deliciosa - So delicious

Tan bonita - So beautifull

quiero oír tu voz - I want to hear your voice

te entendí, mi amor, se siente bien, ¿sí? - I understood you, my love, it feels good, yeah

📻 Kchhhhh.loosing sign....al.....kcchh....over and out...

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soon-palestine · 2 months

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America’s goal in establishing a seaport is primarily military & political, not humanitarian: - Gain control over Gaza’s gas resources - Establish US-Israel military presence - Dismantle UNRWA & have aid distributed through local militias. - Isolate Gaza from the Palestinian body

Gaza City has a long history as a crossroad of regional trade & travel. As a port city, Gaza was a stop on the Incense Road. In more recent history, until WWI, Gaza seaport was a main hub for import & export trade to southern Palestine, & its hinterland, including Jordan and Iraq

Since 1967, Israel has exercised full control of Gaza’s 43km coastline and territorial waters, blocking ships from reaching the city. Gaza seaport is the only Mediterranean port closed to shipping, because of Israeli colonization and continued destruction.

Between 1967 and 1994, the existing infrastructure was severely neglected. Railways, air and seaports were no longer at the free disposal of Palestinians and were only there to serve Israel, its army and its settlers.

As part of the 1993 Oslo Accords, the Netherlands & France governments committed $42.8m to the reconstruction of the Gaza seaport and to the training of port personnel. A Dutch-French consortium that specialises in seaports signed a construction contract in July 2000 with the PA.

The seaport was scheduled to be completed by August 2002. But Israel being Israel, in 2000, Israel halted any construction & in 2002, Israeli navy attacked the PA naval patrol boats in Gaza, causing extensive damage and no further implementation of the project was allowed.

Since 2007, Israel has repeatedly bombed Gaza’s seaport, which only now serves Palestinian fishermen. It has repeatedly shot & killed fishermen and destroyed their boats. Israel is also imposing a maritime sea blockade on Gaza for more than 60 years. Israel is cutting life short.

In June 2010 the EU Parliament urged EU Member States to “take steps to ensure the sustainable opening of all the crossing points to and from Gaza, including the port of Gaza, with adequate international end-use monitoring”.

Establishing a maritime window from Gaza to the outside world is possible, if the focus is put on ending Israel’s state violence, war crimes & genocide. What the Americans are now doing isn’t providing LIFE to Palestinians, but actually entrenching Israeli colonization.

#palestine #gaza #free palestine

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kiskisur · 8 months

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Top Xiao x Bottom male reader where they are both inexperienced, anxious virgins trying to please each other.

60% Awkward Fluff

40% Smut

Take your time, no rush

TY 💟

you feel too good, my love..

warnings: NSFW, top!xiao x bottom!male reader, both are virgins so they don't know shit, some funny moments (?), praise kink (yeah I'm sorry 😭) lots of teasing and playing around

note: hiii, so sorry it took really long :( I'm honestly drained from school and have no motivation writing so please understanddd~ tysm for the request! <3 :)

edited note: DEHYA AND FREMINET CAME HOME AT THE SAME TIME SO HAVE THIS Y'ALL MAKING MORE RN

xiao slowly removed your clothes, his eyes admiring your body as a bright red blush forms in his cheeks, biting the insides of his cheeks.

"don't be shy, hun. it's just me" a soft laugh escaped your lips, causing xiao to blush more and clear his throat before wrapping his arms around your waist.

his lips met your skin, nibbling and licking down to your collarbones before reaching your chest, a gasp leaving your lips when his mouth began to lick and tease your sensitive nipples and pinch the other.

"w-wai- hngg.. x-xiao~" xiao's grip on your waist tightened when his name slipped out of your lips, his eyes slightly wide in surprise as desire takes over.

"did you just.. moan?" he laughed, your cheeks red as you rolled your eyes and furrowed your eyebrows "n-no! you're imagining things."

you replied sarcastically, holding onto xiao's shoulder because if you let go you'd be on the ground right now.

"nope, I heard thatt~" he teased, pressing his lips against yours and smiling widely.

next thing you know you were in the air, being carried to bed and putting you down before hovering you. "you're a lot pretty underneath me you know"

he complimented, butterflies flying in your stomach before his hand roamed down your dick as he began to rub the tip, shivers rolling down your spine as a soft whimper escaped your lips

"am I doing good..?" concern and lust could be heard in the tone of his voice, his hand stroking your sensitive dick painfully slow before giving him a eager nod and panting with repeated "yes" and "more"

his dick was positioned in your hole, looking at you as if asking for permission before you let out a breathless laugh and nodded "put it i-in, baby.. I'll be fine"

you reassured, pecking his lips before he sighed and slowly but gently inserted the tip, earning a sharp gasp from you before you wrapped your arms around him, whining at the unbearable pain

"u-uNgh.. so t-tight, baby. wait-" he stuttered, looking at your teary eyes and smiling lovingly as he wiped them away with his thumb, whispering sweet praises to you.

"x-xiao..!" you cried out, your nails scratching his back when he started moving his hips slowly, pushing himself deeper inside you and hissing at your scratches "fuck you're- ngg so good.."

he panted when you finally took him all in, making eye contact with your eyes that were full of tears.

his eyes softened, reaching out to touch your cheek and kissed it in an attempt to comfort you "hey, do you wanna stop? if you wan-"

he was about to pull out when you wrapped your legs around his waist and shook your head, mumbling "no, no I-It's fine please.."

he laughed softly before he moved at a slow pace, increasing the speed while whines and skin slapping filled the room

"n-nngh, y-you're so good around m-me, (name) f-fuck I can't stop" he hid his face on the crook of your neck, shy about the whimpers that escaped his lips before he panted

you chuckle at his actions, your body focusing on the heat of pleasure and the way the tip brushed your prostate

he nibbled and licked your neck, love bites filling your body before his grip on your waist tightened and his thrusts became sloppy, a clear sign of climax.

"g-gonna cum, mmf! f-fuck you're so good wanna c-cum inside you please.!" he pleaded, his free hand traveling down to your neglected cock and started stroking it, your back arching at the overwhelming pleasure

"h-haA! mmn, xiao th-" you cried out, your eyes rolling back at the pleasure before cum spurted to your stomach

he grunted when you tightened around his cock, his speed increasing before whimpering and shuddering as he filled you with his warmth, your bodies trembling against each other

you closed your eyes to rest for a bit while xiao kept admiring your naked body, smiling and blushing before filling your faces with kisses

you laugh when he kept kissing your necks, trying to push him away gently "h-hey! I'm ticklish there you know!"

xiao shook his head, pouting before going back to kiss your neck down between your thighs. your eyes widened when he bit your inner thighs

"honey, wha-" you were cut off when his tongue brushed your tip, gasping at the sudden sensitivity before his hands wrapped around your legs to stop you from moving or pulling away from him

he kept teasing your cock, a whine escaping your lips before covering your face in embarrassment

"I'm sorry, (name), I can't stop..

#♡ ;; kiskisur !#amab reader #x male reader #male reader #genshin impact x male reader #x bottom male reader #x ftm reader #𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ works ~#genshin x male reader smut #genshin xiao x ftm reader #genshin xiao #genshin xiao x male reader #genshin xiao x reader #genshin xiao x male bottom reader #genshin xiao x male reader smut #genshin xiao x bottom male reader

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stone-cold-groove · 4 months

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An artist’s conceptual illustration of the Boeing 2707-300 super sonic transport.

#sst #vintage illustration #boeing #boeing sst #super sonic transport #the 60s #air travel #vintage air travel #jet airliners

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billiewena · 1 year

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imagine if the actor for walter white was so upset about his character dying in the finale of breaking bad that he produced a prequel show about walt's parents and then a few months later made an episode where walt was somehow alive and time traveled back to the 60's-70's and also he waited until it was walter's fictional birthday to air it. also saul is there in a bad wig. that's jensen ackles with supernatural.

#supernatural is not a show it is a 360 experience #i need a text post tag #spn

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trashmouth-richie · 7 months

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𝚕𝚎𝚝’𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚎

older! college coach! steve x fem! reader

summary: your mysterious coach was always hot headed and pushed you harder than the other girls, after losing an important game, you both find ways to release your frustrations.

triggers: 18+ ; steve is thirty and reader is early twenties and plays basketball in college. smut, light use of pet names, no y/n, steve is a dick to reader and has a huge one, biting, hickies, p in v no condom. Very slight mention of blood, indication of simp behavior at the end.

“Hustle girls!”

“Box her out!”

“Are you fucking kidding me 22?”

His workout tank was ringed dark around the hem of the neck, glistening drops of sweat travel from the column of his neck down into the gray cotton blend fabric.

He was pissed. When wasn’t he?

A rogue strand of hair escapes from the style he had down to a science, red blotches flashed across his cheeks and neck, veins poked out from his vacation tanned skin.

Last night's game ended horribly. And today you were all paying the price for it.

With only 10 seconds left on the clock in the 4th quarter, the play he had drawn up on the marker board was the exact same one you had been practicing since your first year at college. Only this time you were getting the ball after Mel faked to Blair, with just enough time to shoot that beautiful three point shot you had been perfecting since high school.

The squeak from the black expo marker under his thick fingers wrote out his code: Hawkins for the play that was drilled into your brain by coach for the last year.

“Run it just how we’ve been practicing, I’m telling you it’ll work.”

Mel’s fake out didn’t work and you had gotten the ball late. Each dribble from the floorboards into your sweaty palm felt like a heartbeat. The girl guarding you swatted at the ball, missing just barely as she attempted to make a steal, trying to force you to foul her when she had the ball to waste more time and grant you your fourth foul, ending your playing time.

A quick move around her and a cross to your left hand had her stumbling over her ankles like Bambi, and you cut to the three point line, lined up your Nike’s to the hoop like your dad had taught you, and arched the ball into the air.

The buzzer was blaring when the orange ball left your finger tips, tongue poking out and your ponytail fluttering behind you. the gymnasium lights were hospital white, piercing your eyes and making you see dots as you landed on your feet, your competitor reaching for the ball at the last second.

Anticipation filled your lungs as the ball circled around and around the rim. The girls and coach all rose from the bench and waited with hands on their heads or holding hands watching the ball spin.

And with a sick twist, it fell out. Landing to the floor with a silent thud as the bleachers erupted into a nascar loud roar.

Bulldogs: 60 Pirates: 58

He was furious.

Clipboards snapped on his khaki thighs as you all sat on the wooden benches of the sweaty walled locker room. He didn’t yell, he didn’t speak to anyone other than glaring into the ceiling.

“Pack your shit, bus leaves in five.”

No times for showering or debriefing, you and your teammates were hustled to the bus as he snapped his fingers, let’s go let’s go let’s go!

Refusing to let the bus driver stop to get water or any sort of snacks on the way home. “They don’t deserve it.” He preened, looking at your sad faces with a disapproval that cut so deep it had some of the girls in tears.

His mossy green eyes stopped on yours and the disappointment brewed to hatred, his eyes burning emerald, he blew air through his nose and clenched his knuckles, “none of them.”

Mel had thrown up twice during Coach’s infamous Hellfire Sprints. Her and her boyfriend Trevor, who was practically your 5th suitemate, had stayed up until dawn doing pulls from a tequila bottle and hitting his dab pen.

You hadn’t slept either.

Laying on top of your comforter with wet hair and lotion slicked skin, racking your brain with how the shot felt a tiny bit off from your fingers, how coach’s eyes looked like a fucking demon’s when he glared at you on the bus.

How the Sunday morning practice, which was usually laid back and games of pig and watching game tape, was going to be hell on earth.

“22 if I have to tell you one more time to move your ass I’m cutting you from this team do you hear me?”

You rolled your eyes as you pushed yourself faster to touch the black line, beating out the other girls by a full few seconds.

After the sixth set of sprints he had you all go to the workout room and max out on squats. Your legs shook and nearly buckled under the heavy weights. And all he did was stand behind you and tell you how pathetic you looked, he shook his head and scoffed.

“We’re gonna stay here all day til you rack this up, don’t care if you fall on your ass— you’ll do it.”

His breath fanning your ear drove you mad. Spearmint gum and that rich boy cologne he always wore stung your nose as you grunted in defiance.

Through bared teeth and burning lungs you extend your legs to stand.

You wanted to kick him in the dick, make him shut the fuck up for once, but you bit your tongue. Driving the bar up and slamming it loud against the rack Looking back at him with a glare in your eyes, you wouldn’t let a single tear wet your eyes, never giving him the satisfaction.

He looked you up and down quickly, but his eyes felt like hot pokers dragging against your skin. Before he crossed over to another one of your teammates to add more weight to their bar, he dipped his head, and muttered just above a whisper, “Thatta girl.”

You didn’t know much about him but what you did know was that he kept to himself.

Coach Harrington was only a few years older than you, he had a small mustache that he more than likely grew to make himself look a little older than he was.

From what your suitemates had found out by spending hours scouring online archives from his hometown local newspaper to his social media footprint that didn’t exist— and even going as far to stalking his ex girlfriends Instagram— he had played college ball at Perdue for two years before blowing out his knee and ending a full ride scholarship and any rumored possibility of making it to the NBA.

From locker room gossip, you had learned that he drove a black Jeep Wagoneer, and lived in one of the newer apartments downtown.

The university had paid double what they had for the last coach's salary to get Harrington through the doors. The athletic director, Mr. Hopper, had picked him to coach because he was one of the best. But all he was to you was a fucking asshole.

The other girls had ooed and awed over him, the other teams coaches flirted with him before the games, trying to get his number and find out more about the brooding coiffed hair hottie. And maybe you would feel different about him if he wasn’t such a raging prick.

But he wouldn’t budge.

He didn’t get personal with anyone on the team, barely even talked to his assistant Dustin. Refusing to call anyone by anything other than their jersey number or their last name.

Practice lasted for three hours. And by the end of it his voice was hoarse and gruff. Having screamed practically during the entire time.

It wasn’t anything new. He was always high strung and losing his shit when it came to the girls, but mostly you bore the brunt of his anger.

He always used you as an example on what not to do.

“You’re doing it wrong 22,” he’d bellow, his voice echoing loud across the empty gym, his arms crossed tight across his chest, muscles popping under the strain of his tight gray shirt, “drive to the left then cut right, this isn’t fucking hard… do it again.”

You did as you were told, fighting through anger that seeped through your skin and riddled your face with shaking muscles of anger, a twitch to your eye.

You were pissed and had had enough. Not only were you the youngest captain your school had ever seen, you were averaging triple doubles nearly every game.

Showing up to practice early to shoot free throws and leaving late to make sure all the equipment was put away. Spending weekends in the gym running drills or pushing weights instead of at the nearest rager popping pills and snorting coke like everyone else your age.

You put in the work and it showed, but he couldn’t see it.

It was equally frustrating and heartbreaking.

When practice was finally through and all of the girls had either thrown up, left mid practice to go to the nurse or screamed that they were quitting, the locker room was an endless groan. Muscles were slicked over with the menthol burn of icy hot, and sore shoulders wrapped with bags of ice. Tape was torn from ankles and jammed fingers wadded up and tossed into a nearby waste bin. Sniffles were heard from some players and you stood in a sports bra and shorts when Coach Harrington entered the locker room.

“Don’t get too comfortable, we’ll be back here in 3 hours to run more Hellfire Sprints.”

The girls groaned and slammed lockers, bitching under the breath.

“Hey!” Coach Harrington shouted, a thin vein bulging in his forehead, matching the ones in his arms, as he stood with his hands on his hips, the retro fit of his athletic pants swishing under his thick hands. “You want someone to bitch to? You can thank your captain.”

The room falls silent as all eyes land on you. And your breath hitches in your throat, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Me?” You question, “what the hell did I do?”

“The question you should be asking yourself is what you didn’t do. How did you sleep last night knowing you blew that game for your teammates?”

A gasp escapes from your lips and you stare at your Air Forces to hide your pained expression.

“Now, the rest of you get recharged, be back here at 5 o’clock, I don’t want any excuses.” As the room starts to file out, through the heavy wood door, Coach Harrington still stands in the middle of the room, eyes burning holes into your skull, “22 meet me in my office in 10, we need to discuss your position on this team.” He turned on his heel and headed through the doors, pushing them open with a straight arm and his pants swishing down the hallway,

You wait til everyone has gone, Mel giving you a slap on the shoulder, her skin unusually pale on her olive complexion under her charcoal braids, “good luck.”

Lifting your chin you nod and wave, throwing an oversized crew neck over your head and pushing your arms through the holes. Gym bag strewn over your shoulder and you pull your socks up a bit before making the long trek down to Coach Harrington’s office.

Contemplating what you would do when you walked through his office and he kicked you off the team, your long basketball career over because your coach couldn’t fucking stand you.

Never in all your life had you had a coach like him. He pushed you to the limits and started to make you despise the sport altogether.

And since you were about to be booted off the team, you didn’t have anything to lose.

The gold plate reading: Coach S. Harrington- Women’s Basketball on the large mahogany door nestled between the cream cinder block walls almost made your stomach lurch. He never asked anyone to come to his office, not even when Zoey got pregnant last semester and had to quit.

Nerves shook your fist as you knocked on his door, your other hand fumbling your car keys around the silver ring.

“Yeah.” He barked curtly, anything but friendly.

Turning the enormous brass knob, you keep your eyes to the floor when you step into his office. For being down an abandoned hallway, it was almost cozy. The walls were painted fire engine red to match your school's colors. His college degree was framed and hanging on one wall, along with signed pictures of Michael Jordan that you knew cost more than your car.

The oak desk was neat with a MacBook and cup of pens and pencils. A markerboard hung the expanse of one wall covered in scribbled plays and code names.

It smelled like musky expensive leather and cologne and neatly stacked paper Pictures from his glory days were on the shelf behind him, and he cleared his throat when you stared at him flying through the air towards a hoop.

His hair was messy, tufts of brown sticking up, like his fingers had been raking through it so many times out of frustration that the flexible gel wasn’t holding anymore.

He peers at his screen without making eye contact with you, fingers tapping noisily on the keys.

“Do you hate basketball?”

His question has your head spinning. And when you don’t answer right away he asks again.

“N-no,” you stutter, voice shaky and on the verge of screaming at his stupid question.

“Sure about that?” He seethes, still not looking up from his laptop as he clicks away furiously on the keyboard, “The way you played last night could have fooled me.”

Moon shapes indent your palm as you try to keep it together without ripping his head off like a praying mantis “It was a mistake.”

“We don’t make elementary mistakes,” he says slamming his laptop closed and peering over his desk at you through his thick eyebrows, “a fucking third grader could have ran that play better than you did.”

Your throat is dry and chalky as you try to stick up for yourself, being accustomed to keeping rage boiled hot in your belly, “I-I’m..”

His torment continues, pointing around the room at the awards from the last few years, “We’re a nationally ranked team, and your performance last night was embarrassing, and pathetic!”

A single tear threatens to slip down your cheek, and he notices the watery look in your eye, and licks his lip, but he keeps going.

“I expected more out of you, 22– you let your team down last night, and most importantly, me.”

You burst before the dam does, annoyed and sick of his threats, sick of his constant nitpicking of every move yoj make, “That’s not anything new.”

“Excuse me?”

“You treat me like I’m a dog! It’s almost like you want me to quit, you don’t bitch at any of the other girls like you do to me, and I’m tired of it!”

“Watch your mouth.” He points, eyes squinted and nostrils flared.

“No! I work my ass off for you, come in early and stay late. My game has improved and I’m top of the charts for scoring and rebounds, yet you fucking hound me and are constantly cutting me down.”

He doesn’t say anything so you keep going.

“Last night could have ended with us winning and you wouldn’t give a flying fuck, you’d still make us run your dumbass drills, you’d still wake up and find something wrong with what I do— stop taking your failed career out on me!”

he slams his fist into his desk and stands up quickly, the picture frames wiggle as his chair hits the shelf. He crosses the small office in one long legged step coming to stand before you as your back hits against the heavy door, he points a thick finger into your face.

You struck the last fragile nerve he had like a guitar player busting a string playing a solo. Any reserve he had left was gone, his eyes clouded over into hue deeper than a dark forest.

His hot breath fans your cheek, spearmint intensely strong with each bite of his words.

“Don’t you ever talk to me about my personal life again, you got that? You,” he surges pointing into your shoulder, “are supposed to be a leader for this team, and right now you’re acting like a spoiled fucking brat not getting her way.”

The tear you were holding back spills over over your lashes and, his eyes break from yours to watch its southward path on from your cheek to your chin. A low grown rumbles in his throat.

“I’m not a brat!” you scream at him, wiping your cheek hastily, “you’re crazy, and we all hate you!”

His eyes stay moody and dark as he peers into your face down the slope of his nose, “really?” he says no louder than a whisper, “you hate me huh?”

A thick hand wraps around your ponytail, and his body crowds yours into the door, back flat as it would go despite your curves.

Your breathing is erratic, bubbled into your throat with anxiety like you might throw up. His face is so close to yours you can see the definition of each of his eyelashes, and tiny flecks of gold in his eyes.

He’s staring at you with pure hatred, like he’d kill you if ever given the chance, and you’re almost embarrassed by the way your pussy clenches.

“Say it again,” he murmurs, mouth barely moving and barely an inch from your own, his eyes only leave yours when your mouth opens to speak.

“I fucking hate you, Coach Harring—”

His mouth slams into yours with such force your teeth clack together and the taste of blood trickles on your tongue. Your back is pushed flush against the door, likely to bruise from the force alone.

His full weight is pressed against you, his taut body firm and rocked with muscles. He locks your hips in place with alarge hand, fingers gripping your skin beneath your sweater.

Firm and taking what he wants without a second thought, his lips are intoxicating. The roughness of his mustache tickles your lip in an itching way, more than likely leaving a burn behind in his feverish take on your mouth.

His hair is soft in your grip, and you nearly roll your eyes thinking about his hair care routine, but you find yourself rolling your eyes in a different way when you feel his cock bulging through his pants.

Thick and heavy against your thigh, if you had to take a guess it was probably as veiny as his forearms were. And you stifle a moan when it kicks up.

His teeth bite at your lip and you yelp in pain, a noise that only drives him further into you, his hand tightens around your ponytail and yanks your neck further back so your head hits the door.

His shirt is fisted into your hand and you pull him further into you, sliding your tongue against his—sharing the taste of your fresh blood and his spearmint spit.

You scratch at his scalp with your dull nails and he fights back a melty groan.

“Such a fucking brat.” He breathes, as his fingers work the hem of your crew neck up, his fingers feel like lightening strikes against your body, and you welcome the dulled pain with a moan, “Need’t be put in your place.”

You whine when your sweater hits the ground with a soft thud and the cool air of his office ices over your still sweat slicked skin. His lips suck deep bruises into your throat, and his fingers dip into the waistband of your shorts, shoving them down in a hurry.

Expert fingers find your clit and he smirks when you whine for more, “thought you hated me?”

You pout when his fingers come to a halt, eyes flicking open to see his confidence boasting on his stupid perfect face.

“But this pretty little pussy doesn’t, does she baby?”

“Coach,” you moan out for him, his title on your lips in a sloppy whine make him harder than he’s ever been.

His thick fingers dip into the silky warm folds of your pink pussy. The combined noises you make, echo loud in his office. “Fuck baby,” he groans, his fingers sucking up into your gummy walls, he pops them out licks the juicy wetness of your arousal from them. “So wet honey, all this for me?”

Your fingers pinch at his sweats and pull them down in a swift motion along with his boxer briefs. He’s hung more than you thought. Making any guy you had been with previous look like something in a funny museum.

His abs are sculpted and dip into a hard cut v, leading to a small patch of trimmed hair, housing the longest, thickest dick you’ve ever come across.

And you were right it was veiny.

The pretty mushroom pinked head was presenting a pearl of pre cum, so pretty it could make an angel cry. When you try to lower yourself to wrap your lips around him, he stops you.

“Not today,” he groans, fisting his hearty length, your eyes going dumb watching him, brain numb and drunk on him already, “not enough time.”

He wraps your legs around his waist and hoists you up against the wall, your bare back stings against the rough cement wall, he’s grabby, his lips pressing heat into your neck, his moan tingling your skin.

With a quick shift of his hips, your tight pussy sheaths his thick cock. And you scream out.

“Shit, fuck honey..” he’s fighting to keep composure as you are practically lifeless against the wall. His thrusts are filled with purpose and want as your ass is slammed harder and harder into the wall, clapping along like a round of applause, ankles crossed around his lower back at your Nike socks and the laces of your air forces bouncing in tandem.

He’s sweaty and grunting, with each pull from his cock brings more deep and pretty noises from you and he sucks into your shoulder again, knowing damn well his mark will last for weeks. One you’d have to explain to your friends and your teammates, and your boyfriend.

He didn’t know if you had a boyfriend and frankly he didn’t give a fuck, you were his for the time being and he would do as he pleased.

He was fucking you stupid and you were letting him, holding his neck in a lazy grip as he hammered into you, and when you tightened around him, he knew you were close, “look at me,” he begs of you, “you’re gonna come for me, yeah?”

“Yes,” you choke out, barely registering what he’s saying from the tight coiled pleasure of your orgasm ready to fire away.

His cock drags slow as your eyes connect, yours lazily spilling over with fresh tears, “who’s makin’ you feel this good, 22? Huh?”

“Y-you Coach!” you whine, nearly ready to crumble under his thick fingers when he rubs your sensitive clit.

“What was that baby girl?,” he croaked, holding back his release, “couldn’t hear you.”

“Oh fuck oh fuck mmm you, Coach Harrington! Fuck I’m coming!”

Your orgasm breaks and it’s like a dam has busted, his dick is soaked by your arousal and he’s losing any bit of cockiness he had left when your face smooths and your lips blur a pretty round ‘o’ as you hum and your body tingles.

He follows not far behind you, muttering sentences that make no sense, drunk on your pussy as he paints your walls with his release.

You’ve never seen him look hotter, his forehead rests on your chest as you both catch your breath. For a split second he shows you a sly smirk, like he actually was enjoying himself.

“you might just be my fav-”

before he can finish, before he can pull out and offer you a towel, a loud knock scared everything in him stiff. Besides his cock that went instantly soft.. his blood ran cold.

His face stares at the door, and you stare at him, your grip on his shoulders tighten.

“Steve?”

*let me know your thoughts on this, should there be a part 2? I love hearing your comments ♥️

#steve x female reader #steve x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve fanfic

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mdanon027 · 4 months

Text

Back in his arms | Spencer Reid x FemaleReader

Masterlist

Summary | Three times Spencer Spencer Reid seeks for physical affection (Inspired by some of the Prompts from the list seeking out physical affection by @creativepromptsforwriting )

Word Count | 3095.

Warnings | I don’t think there’s any warning, if you found something triggering, please let me know.

Side Note: I don’t own any of Criminal Minds characters, words, or narrative. This is only a reinterpretation and fiction based on the Criminal Minds Universe they continue to develop. Also no repost is allowed. If you ever see this on another website, please let me know.

1. acting like they're cold to have an excuse to cuddle or share clothes or blankets

After a long case, the team was exhausted. The flight back to Quantico will take at least 8 hours, so they decided to travel back immediately after they ended the work.

The flight was at night time. Close to the winter season, the weather is changing. So what better opportunity to get close to the person he was enchanted with, than get warm while getting close on the big couch of the plane?

“Why are you so cold?” JJ asked Y/N.

“I really don't know, probably the warm weather before getting to the plane and the air conditioner here it's giving me chills.” She said while warming her arms.

“Did you know the average temperature in planes is about 22 to 24 degrees? That's because while we are flying the temperature outside is about -60 degrees…” He started to talk, until she interrupted him.

“So… I should be grateful?” She asked him while getting on the seats.

“They leave the temperature that way to have the average one on land, it is supposed to make you comfortable.” He said while passing her his own sweater.

“I was planning on saying no to your sweater, but I'm going to say yes because I'm really cold.” She told him while putting the sweater on.

They took their seats, and the flight began.

“Go Pretty Boy, it's the perfect time for a snuggle.” Said Derek passing by with a coffee, giving him a smirk.

“I don't know what you mean.” He decided to play it cool.

“Don't play dumb.” Rossi told him from his seat.

“What are you talking about?” He knew perfectly what they were talking about, but he knew that if he admitted it, the teasing would have no end.

“Leave him alone, if Reid doesnt what to make another move, then he won't.” Hotch said.

“Another move?” He asks now, curious.

“I mean, giving up your sweater even when you never ever take it off on a daily basis? For me it was a move.” Now Hotch was profiling him.

“You are joining them?” He couldn't believe that the man was joining the fun.

“It's not that I'm joining, but if you want to make a move, you should start doing something.” Ended Hotch getting back to his report while smiling.

After two hours of flight, everyone already had a quick dinner and some of them were almost ready to fall asleep. But Y/N was still cold, so he finally decided to use his knowledge to his advantage.

“You may not say anything, but I can see you are getting colder, we can share the blanket.” He said while looking at her while she trembled.

“I think it’s a great idea.” She stood up from her seat and got close to him on the couch.

Spencer makes a space for her, and covers her up with the blanket.

“High stress levels can cause flu-like symptoms, such as fever, cold, nausea, and body aches. There's a high possibility you are about to get sick.” He said while looking down at her.

“Probably. This case was a mess, thankfully we resolved it.” She said while shivering.

“Layering clothes to get warm could prevent the colds. But right now, the clothes are limited, I can give you a hug, if you want to.” He said while feeling his face getting warm. He took the chance to have her in his arms. At that moment he could hear some laughs from the seats, apparently the interaction wasn’t as private as he thought. He looked around to see his teammates giving him thumps ups while Emily said “Nice one!”.

He wasn’t sure on how to act properly on how to start a romantic “relationship ”. The few times he had experienced, were either brief and the closest he had, ended up in a tragedy.

Thankfully he was learning to live with it, with a new hope of finding someone to spend his life with. But he was wheeling to take a try.

2. fixing the other's hairstyle to let their hands run through their partner's hair

He was an expert talking for audiences. He usually did not get nervous about it, after conferences, seminars or even giving classes at college, it was easy peasy.

But it was the first time Y/N was going to talk to an audience giving a class of her expertise.

She was good at talking to the press when needed, or even to groups to calm the masses in times of fear. But it was different to try to explain situations to people in dangerous situations than teaching young people how to act as a mediator in dangerous situations.

She knew how to react, but one thing was doing it and another different to explain it.

Rossi invited Hotch and Y/N to give a lecture on how to act on situations that involve firearms and detonation objects. The team knew she was one of the best ones in that field, with no mistake shots, amazing disarmament skills and extraordinary knowledge on bombs (just like Derek teached her on her Academy days).

They spend several late nights together (sometimes with the other members joining) practicing her lecture. It had anything and everything that could possibly happen, and she was ready for any possible question.

All the team was there to support her.

“I’m nervous.” Y/N said while fixing her hair looking through the window reflection.

“Garcia is inside getting ready with your slides. Take a deep breath, you're going to do great.” Hotch told her.

“Yeah, you practiced a lot and if anything happens, you just need to talk about the heroic job you do every day.” Said Rossi, while getting close to the door of the exhibition room. “Hotch and I are going to start, and then you will proceed.”

“A brief introduction and you will continue.” Said Hotch, entering the room.

“You will be doing fine! If anything happens, we are going to be inside, just look for us if you get really nervous.” Said Emily, while Derek and JJ get inside the room.

“You are going to do just fine, just like we practice, remember it's more a talk than a class. They want to know how it's going to be in their future work field.” Spencer told her while opening the door for her.

“You are right, in that room we are the only ones that know how things actually work.” She took a deep breath.

“Let me fix the final details from your hair.” Spencer told her before Rossi and Hotch started to talk. “All done. You can do it. If you get nervous, just look for me and start talking to me.” He winked, while getting to his seat.

Rossi and Hotch started the talk with certain facts and background about de BAU, and proceeded to let Y/N start explaining.

At one point of the lecture she got so passionate about it, that she started to pass her fingers through her hair thanks to the constant hair interrupting her view. While brushing it, she didn’t notice it was beginning to get disheveled. For sure her attendants didn’t care about it, they were deep into the information the expert was giving them for their future work field.

By the end of the lecture, the students were ecstatic with the knowledge they received, even asking for her contact info for future references related to their courses, some of them asking their professor if they could invite Y/N again in the future.

Rossi was right to invite her.

The first one to arrive was Spencer.

“Let me fix your hair.” He said while brushing his fingers through her hair.

“Again?” She said surprised.

“It's kind of untidy over here.” He continued,

“Was like this all the time?” She said with little worry in her voice.

“For about more than half of your presentation.” He answered.

“Really? Why didn't you tell me something?” She asked him.

“That could be distracting for you.”He finished fixing her hair. “All done!”

“You could make me a sign.” Y/N told him.

“You didn't even look at us, and your hair gets that way when you start to talk really excited about the things that fascinates you, it always blocks your vision and you start to adjust your hair.” Spencer commented on that fact.

“Why haven't you ever told me that?” Now she was curious.

“Because you look cute that way.” He answered her. “Now come here, let me congratulate you.” He proceeds to give her a hugh, she is back into his arms. “You did marvelous over there! A natural instructor.”

“Thanks for helping me rehearse over 20 times.” She couldn't express how grateful she was with him.

“Actually, it was 34 times.” All he could hear was her laugh. “Not that I was counting.” He was in fact counting. She just smiled looking up at him.

The next one to approach was the team.

“Come here.” Penelope said while hugging her really tight. “You did amazing, my friend!.”

“You think so?”

“Yes! The presentation was amazing, really to the point and with the details that needed to be exposed.” Said Emily while joining the hug.

“Of course Y/LN.” Said Hotch while giving her a smile.

“You were outstanding, I made a good decision to bring you with me today.” Said Rossi. “Whenever you want to come back and give another class, we can arrange you a spot.”

“And not forgetting that I teached you the basics back in your days.” Said Derek giving her a big hug.

“You should give a class together.” Said JJ, getting close to congratulate her dear friend.

“Thank you, every single one of you for helping me get prepared for this.” Y/N with a big smile on her face. “Especially Spencer, thanks for listening to my lecture 34 times.” She said while giving him a hug.

“This deserves a celebration! Dinner at my house tonight!” Said Rossi from behind.

Everyone started to walk away, to finally celebrate another accomplishment that one of their teammates got.

3. reaching out with their hand without saying anything, wanting the other one to grab it

Spencer knew the basics of dancing. Really the basics, it took him time, but Derek and Penelope helped him during their free times.

You may ask, why?

Rossi was doing his annual Christmas Celebration, only with the BAU team. It wasn’t a big deal of a party, but for sure a ball in small proportions. An attempt of dancing was another opportunity to be close (at least even more close than what they already are) to Y/N, and he was taking a chance. The team kept teasing him, but later he realized they were just trying to help him to get with her, and he was willing to take their support.

“Pretty Boy, it’s time.” Said Derek.

“I don’t know, we only took a few lessons.” Said Spencer unsure.

“Believe me, you will want to hold her close for a while.” Said Penelope.

“What do you mean?”

“You will know soon.” Ended Derek.

From afar, he could see Y/N and Emily talking, they were really into the conversation while JJ and Will made comments, they were really into it.

The music started to sound in the background and Rossi, as the extra person he was, made an invitation so they could start to dance while the turntable was in the works of preparation.

Derek and Penelope were the ones who opened the dance floor, following behind Hotch and Beth, and JJ with Will.

Hotch gave him a look and a nod pointing to Y/N’s table. It was time.

He built up courage, got closer to the table and reached his hand so she could take it. Without hesitation, she took it. He started to walk to the dance floor.

He held her close. Was like a dream. And they started to dance.

“I didn’t know you could dance.” She said to him, in a low voice.

“You don’t know a lot of things about me.” Spencer told her.

“Well, I know a lot about you, but this one specifically wasn’t in my radar.” She ended.

They kept slow dancing for several songs, making small conversations between some comfortable silence moments. It wasn’t weird, they could almost talk through their eyes.

Until she decided to talk again.

“I’m probably leaving.” She said really low and slow.

“What do you mean? You can’t leave.” He wasn't expecting this type of news.

“It’s only for a time.” She wasn't looking at him.

“Why?” He was confused, wasn’t she happy with the team?

“Emily recommended me to the Interpol for a special training. Apparently one of the asistans from the lecture I gave, it’s interested in me teaching their team on explosive objects. Derek also sent a letter, endorsing my knowledge in the topic.” She finished.

“Why didn’t you tell me anything?” He really wanted to know, they were supposed to be close.

“I didn’t knew. They just told me this morning. I’m still thinking about it. Hotch and Rossi already knew, and are encouraging me to take it. But first I wanted to ask you, what did you think about ir.” Oh, that was it.

“Is my opinion that important?” Maybe they were more than close friends.

“You are the closest friend I have, in my personal and professional life. Most of the time, you are my teammate.” She spoke.

The next few songs were danced in silence, she kept her head close to his body listening to his heartbeat. What could he tell her? It was a great chance for her. He wasn't going to stop her professional growth.

“You should take it.” He finally spoke his mind.

“Really?” She finally looked at him.

“You are amazing at doing your work. It would be a waste of your talent not taking this opportunity.” It was the truth.

“But it's a long time, and I'm going to be away from home and alone, and without you.” It sounded like she wouldn't take the chance of being far away trying new things.

“It's only two months, even though I’m not a big fan of technology, we can video call each other whenever you want. You already know I have a non average sleep schedule or even we can message all day.”

He promised, now they were close, he took one more chance to hold her back in his arms as close as possible for the time they had before her departure.

+1 turning their cheek to get the other one to give them a peck

After being gone for more than two months, thanks to the fact that she was required for a special task outside the country (by Emily's and Derek's recommendation), she was finally back with the team.

He was waiting, with her favorite coffee, pastry and a flower plushie (he knew she was allergic to them, or at least the ones of this season).

They talked every single day since she was gone. He knew all the things she did overseas. But he wanted to know about them again, even if he repeated them in his thoughts every time after they ended talking, he needed to see her face in real life while talking and to get lost in her eyes.

He couldn’t explain how he felt about her. She was more than a colleague, more than a teammate, more than a friend and he believed more than her soulmate.

During this time afar, he realized what truly was to care for a person, even when they were not physically together. It was the same feeling he had for his mother, there was no day he didn’t speak to her, and the same thing happened with Y/N.

While growing up, he was used to either getting ignored or being made fun of.

But she always listened to every single fact he had to say, when he talked fast about something he is passionate about, or only listened and talked to him about his thoughts.

For sure he was in love with her.

She arrived at the office, while everyone was there to welcome her back. She passed by a line of hugs and warm words. She was missed in the team.

After all the greetings,she started to look for him, she was wearing one of his sweaters he lent her for the trip, and proceeded to give him a hug. He had never received a hug as tight as the one he was experiencing.

“I missed you so much, Spencer.” She said with an almost inaudible voice while burying her face in his sweater while catching his scent.

“I missed you even more.” He told her, while topping her head.

“Even if we talked every single day I was gone?” She looked directly into his eyes.

“It’s not the same, a screen can’t take a chance than talking to your pretty face.” He was smiling.

“Oh, Spencer.” She whispered close to his cheek ready to give him a peck, she was the only one allowed to do it.

It was now or never.

He turned around.

It was a small peck. And he looked delighted.

“I'm so sorry Spencer.” She said, astonished. While looking at him with those beautiful startled eyes.

“I'm not.” He said back, getting another peck from her. This time she was also smiling, but stayed silent. “If you want me to stop, please tell me something,”

She shut him down with a proper kiss.

“The kid finally did it.” Rossi muttered to Hotch.

“He took his time.” He said while smiling. Everyone knew they eventually ended up together.

From the other side of the room, their teammates were giggling at the young ones.

“Well, it’s sad I have to break it to you, but we have a case. To the round table.” Said Hotch from his office, getting close to Spencer while giving him a palm to his back.

“Oh, come on Hotch, let the love birds have a little more time.” Said Derek getting close to Spencer and giving a small side hug to the both of them.

“Come on, we have work to do.” Spencer said, giving her a last small kiss, and started to hold her hand while starting walking. “You are never ever leaving my side, ok?”

“Ok.” She couldn't believe it. She was amazed with what just happened.

There was no better welcome back.

Back in his arms.

Autor’s Note: Hello Again! As I told you before, I'm in my Criminal Minds Era, so this is the second time Im writting about this!I wanted to post if before my +10 hours flight to my Holiday Vacation! Its probably the last thing I'm writting/posting this year related to an original work. I was feeling inspired this days. I hope you like it!

If any of the authors I read ever read this, to let you know I always go as anon (thanks that this is my side blog) and I always sign as -MD💜 or -MDanon027💜 (@mdanon027). Thanks for the inspiration!

Also, please be honest if you like it or nah. Any comment will help for future personal writing skills. And if you see any misspelling, I’m sorry, I already reread it several times, and English it’s not my first language. Please don’t mind on telling me to correct anything.

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 10 months

Text

Finally, Always, & Forever ~Dark!Miss Peregrine xFem Immortal!Reader

@athenodora-sulpicia-writer Request- Miss Peregrine; If you do can you write a one shot with the numbers, 2, 60 and 62 from your Mummy Masterlist all for a female reader/character? And if you write it about Miss Peregrine can you make it dark Miss P?

Hey @athenodora-sulpicia-writer !! Thanks for the request and your patience 😊 I had fun researching Miss P and now I’m happy to say that I can write for her! I got some inspiration from @valentineisrotting on this one 🙃 And I also found a Stela Cole song to go along with it! To me, Love Like Mine appeals to the dark and sacrificial nature of Miss P’s love in this plus the “I’m so good that I’ll make you wanna stay up” line😫 (and much more but that’s the main point). Hope you Enjoy 💋

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

#2. “Be a good girl and tie yourself to the bed posts”

#60. “You broke the rules…”

#62. “I might do something I’ll regret…”

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, little angst, little fluff, forbidden love (sort of but not really), kissing, eating out, fingering, punishment, overstimulation, gagging, mistress kink, praise kink, implied degrading kink, implied age gap (all legal), etc.

Enjoy (;

She’d told you to never visit. Not that she didn’t want you to… Hell, she longed for you to. No, because she was afraid they’d catch you.

See, you had what the scientists longed for… True Immortality. That was your peculiarity. You weren’t a simple child anymore, and if had gotten harder and harder to conceal with time. So out of preservation of both your lives, Alma had forbid you from coming to see her in her loops. It was letters only.

But once you’d heard of her loop nearly being damn near destroyed… You couldn’t help the urge to run into the arms of your lover to see if all was well.

You had heard from a friend that Miss Peregrine and her peculiar children had found a new home near New Zealand. So you travelled there and lo and behold, you found the rumored loop and house corresponding with it. You entered and walked through the front gate.

And next to the front door, talking to one of her children, stood the one and only, Alma Peregrine. You suddenly felt all childish again. You’d broken her only rule. But you didn’t care enough about that right now.

As you stood there from afar, mouth agape at your lover, Alma sensed something in the air had changed. You had started to walk up the front path to the house, when her gaze caught yours. A myriad of emotions washed over face.

Anger. Sadness. Pure joy. A little lust…?

As you walked up the house steps, Alma sent her child inside.

Before she could say anything, you began, “I know you told me… not to come… but…” you found yourself a stuttering mess, “but then I heard about you almost getting killed…?! And I just thought that I needed to know you were alright…”

Your gaze met hers as you hit your lips and blushed, unsure what she would do. Suddenly, it was like something broke inside the raven haired goddesses eyes. You gasped lightly as you were suddenly in her tight embrace.

“I was so worried for you…” she whispered.

Your eagerly returned her hug. Her lips peppering kisses all over your face and neck.

“Me? I was worried for you… Are you safe now…?” You whispered.

She nodded and pulled away slightly, growing more distant all of a sudden. Her gaze becoming darker.

“Love…?”

“Even though we’re safe now… You still broke the rules, my dear…”

Your breath hitched slightly. Light blush crept up your cheeks as you apprehensively nodded in recognition of your disobedience.

“I might do something I’ll regret…” She warily warned you.

Afterall, she hadn’t seen you in ages. And now she was getting a chance to lay hands on you once more. At her full Control. She wanted to check in with you first.

“I don’t care.” You whispered, “Use me. Fuck me. Edge me. I’m yours.”

At that, she smirked and nodded, her hand crept up your shoulder, as she brought her lips to the shell of your ear.

“Second floor, last door on the right…” she husked, “Be a good girl and tie yourself to the bed posts…”

Your breath hitched yet again.

“Yes mistress…” you whimpered, scurrying into the house and up the stairs.

You didn’t even register to explain your presence to her children, whom you passed along the way. Luckily, Alma had you covered on that front. As you stripped and dug around her closet for her signature black lace ties, Alma explained to her children a bit about you and your presence here.

When she came into her room, you were struggling in tying your second wrist to the bedposts. You’d already ties both your feet and your left wrist. The raven haired beauty chuckled lightly, and shutting the door, she came over to you.

“Let me help you, dear…” she purred, easily tying your wrist to the bedpost.

You and she both knew this was the nicest she was going to get tonight. After that, her tone and gaze went straight dark. The kind of darkness that made your thighs clench and your breath shallow… She then moved to the edge of the bed, taking in your entire form.

“You broke the rules…” she repeated, this time with an sharp edge to her tone.

You gulped.

“I did, mistress.” You whimpered, squirming under your restraints.

She hummed in satisfaction of your recognition.

“I haven’t touched you in ages…” she wickedly purred, licking her lips.

Even after all this time, it wasn’t hard to remember that she liked verbal answers…

“No, you haven’t, mistress…” you breathily whimpered.

“Safe words?”

“Green for good, yellow for pause, red for stop, and three taps for stop if I can’t speak.”

The raven haired woman hummed in recognition and then began stripping in front of you without another word. You whimpered lightly at the sight of her body, adorning a jaw-dropping sleek, black lingerie set. Your little sounds did not go unnoticed by the other woman. She then climbed on the bed, crawling on top of you.

“You’ll have to be quiet. I won’t have the children hearing your leud sounds.” She warned, “I will gag you if you can’t keep those pretty lips closed.”

You nodded vigorously, pursing your lips together tightly.

~~~

You knew she would punish you for breaking her rules, but fuck…

Why did she have to be so fucking skilled at it…?!

Her tongue dipped into your precious cunt tasting the juices of yet another orgasm which she had pulled out of you. You were a shaking, stuttering mess, who was desperately trying to stay quiet. But your head fell back in pure bliss as her tongue slotted itself inside your core once more.

“Fuck yessssss…” you hissed, tugging on your restraints.

At this, Alma cocked her head up and removed her tongue fully from your heated center. You hit back the whimper which was bound to try and escape you. The raven haired goddess then got up without another word and grabbed your knickers, shoving them in your mouth and effectively gagging you.

~~~

The stamina of this woman, you couldn’t…

She’d been bringing you over the edge for hours, punishing you with the double edged sword of overstimulation. One particular lick to your sensitive and puffy clit, sent you spiraling and spasming. Your back arched and you screamed into your knickers in response.

“Yes, sweet girl, I know your mistresses tongue feels so good. But why are you crying, sweet thing…?” She taunted.

She wasn’t wrong… Your mascara was running down your face. All from the pure utter, overstimulating bliss the woman as bringing you.

“You asked for this when you decided to break the rules…” she wickedly purred, attaching her hot mouth to your clit and sucking harshly.

A desperate cry of painful pleasure left your throat.

“Is this too much for you…?” She taunted, attaching her mouth back quickly on your clit.

You nodded vigorously, pulling tightly against your ties, your body spasming at her touch. But she firmly held your thighs for her easy access.

“That’s odd… look at how your dripping on my tongue…” She chuckled wickedly.

You let out a particularly desperate whine, which was easily muffled by your make shift gag.

“But that’s ok, sweet thing…” She lustfully purred, “If you keep crying like that your mistress will let you cum in her mouth however many times you’d like…”

New tears of pleasure streamed down your face as she brought you to yet another climax, leaving your throat sore and your legs trembling.

“My pretty crybaby…” she cooed while cleaning you up only to go down on your dripping cunt once more.

~~~

Aftercare was a staple for Alma. So when she was done with you, she gently scooped your fragile form up and carried you to her bathtub. She ran the water and then promptly joined you, making sure to live on you and clean you up proper. Then, the two of you snuggled in the water for a while. You nuzzled into her form lovingly.

“Missed you so much…” you murmered into the crook of her neck.

“I missed you too…” Alma whispered, kissing your nose affectionately, “You don’t ever have to leave again, my Dear…”

“I’m yours. Always and Forever…” you murmured, drifting off into a light slumber in Alma’s arms.

~~~

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