#embroidered science

[rowandriftwood]

I found this letter penned by my great-great-grandmother printed in an atheist-feminist-leftist magazine.

Dear Higher Science: It seems that man made Jehovah to endorse the capture system of monopoly and rent extortion, then made Jesus to atone for the theft forced upon the starving slaves that Jehovah ordered bred for exploitation by his “chosen"; and then woman, breeder of the slaves, unpaid -- unappreciated -- but “cursed” by Jehovah, will mix poison cups for Higher Science, because it would pull the ragamuffin Gods to pieces and show up the system which depends on fear of them alone for its continuance. Five hundred dollars per minute to pay preachers to preach the nation’s slaves into good natured acceptance of their slavery! Woman stands at the inquisition wheel (worship of personal Gods), and keeps it running without even asking for wages. She grinds out monopoly to crush her boys into prison, her girls into prostitution; then pays the parson for asking idols to “forgive” the crimes the system forces upon them. What a piece of art (-ifice) the Pentateuch is! How skillfully the web for women is woven. Will woman never wake up? Will the cry of the babes in the streets, in the mills, in the madhouses, wake her?  -- Annie Howard Van Horn Hathaway, Montana, September 10, 1906

[anentomologist]

Spider internal anatomy, after Comstock

Free hand embroidery on printed cotton

[pepperpixel]

Some Dessies! W a couple just. General Dessie bein cute pics. 1 pic of her overworking herself. And 1 pic of her in!!! Some fashion and shit! Cool ass clothes…

[nasa]

NASA Inspires Your Crafty Creations for World Embroidery Day

It’s amazing what you can do with a little needle and thread! For #WorldEmbroideryDay, we asked what NASA imagery inspired you. You responded with a variety of embroidered creations, highlighting our different areas of study.

Here’s what we found:

Webb’s Carina Nebula

Wendy Edwards, a project coordinator with Earth Science Data Systems at NASA, created this embroidered piece inspired by Webb’s Carina Nebula image. Captured in infrared light, this image revealed for the first time previously invisible areas of star birth. Credit: Wendy Edwards, NASA. Pattern credit: Clare Bray, Climbing Goat Designs

Wendy Edwards, a project coordinator with Earth Science Data Systems at NASA, first learned cross stitch in middle school where she had to pick rotating electives and cross stitch/embroidery was one of the options.  “When I look up to the stars and think about how incredibly, incomprehensibly big it is out there in the universe, I’m reminded that the universe isn’t ‘out there’ at all. We’re in it,” she said. Her latest piece focused on Webb’s image release of the Carina Nebula. The image showcased the telescope’s ability to peer through cosmic dust, shedding new light on how stars form.

Ocean Color Imagery: Exploring the North Caspian Sea

Danielle Currie of Satellite Stitches created a piece inspired by the Caspian Sea, taken by NASA’s ocean color satellites. Credit: Danielle Currie/Satellite Stitches

Danielle Currie is an environmental professional who resides in New Brunswick, Canada. She began embroidering at the beginning of the Covid-19 pandemic as a hobby to take her mind off the stress of the unknown. Danielle’s piece is titled “46.69, 50.43,” named after the coordinates of the area of the northern Caspian Sea captured by LandSat8 in 2019.

An image of the Caspian Sea captured by Landsat 8 in 2019. Credit: NASA

Two Hubble Images of the Pillars of Creation, 1995 and 2015

Melissa Cole of Star Stuff Stitching created an embroidery piece based on the Hubble image Pillars of Creation released in 1995. Credit: Melissa Cole, Star Stuff Stitching

Melissa Cole is an award-winning fiber artist from Philadelphia, PA, USA, inspired by the beauty and vastness of the universe. They began creating their own cross stitch patterns at 14, while living with their grandparents in rural Michigan, using colored pencils and graph paper.  The Pillars of Creation (Eagle Nebula, M16), released by the Hubble Telescope in 1995 when Melissa was just 11 years old, captured the imagination of a young person in a rural, religious setting, with limited access to science education.

Lauren Wright Vartanian of the shop Neurons and Nebulas created this piece inspired by the Hubble Space Telescope’s 2015 25th anniversary re-capture of the Pillars of Creation. Credit:  Lauren Wright Vartanian, Neurons and Nebulas

Lauren Wright Vartanian of Guelph, Ontario Canada considers herself a huge space nerd. She’s a multidisciplinary artist who took up hand sewing after the birth of her daughter. She’s currently working on the illustrations for a science themed alphabet book, made entirely out of textile art. It is being published by Firefly Books and comes out in the fall of 2024. Lauren said she was enamored by the original Pillars image released by Hubble in 1995. When Hubble released a higher resolution capture in 2015, she fell in love even further! This is her tribute to those well-known images.

James Webb Telescope Captures Pillars of Creation

Darci Lenker of Darci Lenker Art, created a rectangular version of Webb’s Pillars of Creation. Credit:  Darci Lenker of Darci Lenker Art

Darci Lenker of Norman, Oklahoma started embroidery in college more than 20 years ago, but mainly only used it as an embellishment for her other fiber works. In 2015, she started a daily embroidery project where she planned to do one one-inch circle of embroidery every day for a year.  She did a collection of miniature thread painted galaxies and nebulas for Science Museum Oklahoma in 2019. Lenker said she had previously embroidered the Hubble Telescope’s image of Pillars of Creation and was excited to see the new Webb Telescope image of the same thing. Lenker could not wait to stitch the same piece with bolder, more vivid colors.

Milky Way

Darci Lenker of Darci Lenker Art was inspired by NASA’s imaging of the Milky Way Galaxy. Credit: Darci Lenker

In this piece, Lenker became inspired by the Milky Way Galaxy, which is organized into spiral arms of giant stars that illuminate interstellar gas and dust. The Sun is in a finger called the Orion Spur.

The Cosmic Microwave Background

This image shows an embroidery design based on the cosmic microwave background, created by Jessica Campbell, who runs Astrostitches. Inside a tan wooden frame, a colorful oval is stitched onto a black background in shades of blue, green, yellow, and a little bit of red. Credit: Jessica Campbell/ Astrostitches

Jessica Campbell obtained her PhD in astrophysics from the University of Toronto studying interstellar dust and magnetic fields in the Milky Way Galaxy. Jessica promptly taught herself how to cross-stitch in March 2020 and has since enjoyed turning astronomical observations into realistic cross-stitches. Her piece was inspired by the cosmic microwave background, which displays the oldest light in the universe.

The full-sky image of the temperature fluctuations (shown as color differences) in the cosmic microwave background, made from nine years of WMAP observations. These are the seeds of galaxies, from a time when the universe was under 400,000 years old. Credit: NASA/WMAP Science Team

GISSTEMP: NASA’s Yearly Temperature Release

Katy Mersmann, a NASA social media specialist, created this embroidered piece based on NASA’s Goddard Institute for Space Studies (GISS) global annual temperature record. Earth’s average surface temperature in 2020 tied with 2016 as the warmest year on record. Credit: Katy Mersmann, NASA

Katy Mersmann is a social media specialist at NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, Md. She started embroidering when she was in graduate school. Many of her pieces are inspired by her work as a communicator. With climate data in particular, she was inspired by the researchers who are doing the work to understand how the planet is changing. The GISTEMP piece above is based on a data visualization of 2020 global temperature anomalies, still currently tied for the warmest year on record.

In addition to embroidery, NASA continues to inspire art in all forms. Check out other creative takes with Landsat Crafts and the James Webb Space telescope public art gallery.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[arthur-dentist]

My loom fucking broke 😭 I’m sad but also a little bit thankful bc I have a very valid excuse to not stay up to 2am finishing a final band (for science class)

[edzephyr]

I was walking to the gym one day and saw a bear with some trash on the street. He was on a small sun-faded plastic child's chair.

On the way back, the bear was gone, but I noticed a trail of white fluff down the street. As I walked, I realised it was the bear's innards, and I found the bear's skin torn up in an abandoned trolley.

The rest is as follows:

A wash (it took about half an hour to collect all his stuffing)

2. Reassembly and pet brush to de-matt

3. Eyes polished. (they were all scratched up)

4. Eyebrows

5. Nose (science blue)

6. Boots

7. Pants

8. Tunic (with a hand-embroidered emblem and some spare braid)

9. Spock

10. Spirk

🙃

BONUS: I also found this guy recently. Another project!

Now who on earth could that remind me of

 ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyway happy valentines day!

[raggedytiger]

ragatha/agatha and pomni/penny human hcs!

(r)agatha:

is an english teacher!

yes she still loves horses. she used to ride them, & she loves old western movies.

owns cowboy hat and boots.

analytical and loves long & winding conversations.

has a very happy cat named sandwich.

patches her own clothes, doesn't have kids but if she did she would embroider their names into their belongings.

she still plays cello, she loves music in general, probably sings like an angel.

can't do any mathematics.

can drive, but like a lunatic. somehow has never had an accident though, so it's fine.

probably has a cute little baby blue/yellow car now, but definitely had a beat up offroader truck at some point that got put to good use. or maybe she still does, i'm not the boss.

total lesbian, a bit of a heartbreaker but not intentionally (women just keep falling for her)

goes to town/neighbourhood/community meetings. likely is/was in a knitting circle

absurd number of quilts in her home

pomni/penny:

is an accountant as we know, and cannot cook for shit as we know.

no pets she can barely take herself for walks. is more similar to a cat, but had a dog growing up. would love a collie or a dalmatian probably.

would name the dog something stupid like Thermometer Johnson.

she can drive, but nervously.

really quick thinker, like impressively, unless she's under HUGE amounts of stress. is literally always thinking at 100mph.

no sense of interior decor or personal style. all practical, kind of butch. really does kill a suit.

very much lesbian but not fully to terms with it. probably had short-lived relationships with men in which she was 'content' but didn't really care for it. seeing agatha as agatha for the first time was probably a crazy punch to her little gay heart. not to mention the cowboy gear.

autistic

watches 90s anime to wind down

listens to every single genre of music. passes a lot of time with headphones in, slowly making her way thru the entire world's discography

owns no band merch or anything though she just listens

can't sleep without a fan on, thunderstorm 12hr audio, blackout curtains, weighted blanket, water nearby

does not sleep a lot

both of them (going to call them pomni and ragatha for convenience):

didn't immediately recognise one another. i havent got an exact idea of how they reunited after getting out, but there were tears.

bonded in a very rare and unique way - they got to revel in the newfound joys of real life again. they got to eat delicious food, go on long, unobstructed walks in the real sun, be warmed by it, chew on ice cubes and shiver at the pain, listen to each other's heartbeats, listen to real music, read real books, smell soaps and flowers and sauces. they went to the supermarket together and read all the labels, and bought one of each type of fruit to try between them, and smelled all the candles, and touched all the blankets. spent a lot of time holding hands and kissing and i'm sorry to say, probably having sex, because holy shit, i'm real, you're real, we're real

now live together in ragatha's apartment, after pomni moved out of her small and confusingly-furnished flat.

both of them feel inadequate from time to time. this is resolved by a stern-but-loving talking-to.

sandwich likes pomni very much. pomni doesn't really get cats, but loves sandwich a great deal, and enjoys letting her sleep on her lap.

ragatha is very pleased to see her girls getting along.

ragatha cooks, pomni chops the veg. she often doesn't fuck it up

pomni cleans a lot as a 'thank you for letting me live here, i love you'. she's very much acts of service, ragatha is words & physical touch <3

they watch a lot of movies together. depending on how long they've been stuck, they might have culture to catch up on

ragatha wants to have a house with a garden one day. pomni starts germinating seeds from their fruit & veg like a weird science experiment. ragatha is delighted when she is presented with a baby tomato plant.

clothes are shared. ragatha's are bigger, but most of pomni's are ill-fitting anyway so it can go both ways. ragatha likes to dress pomni up in different outfits and have her do a little fashion show. pomni pretends not to savour the confidence boost.

pomni starts sleeping more

[honestsycrets]

enfócate | tutor!miguel o'hara x reader

❛ pairing | tutor!miguel x student!reader, fake boyfriend!peter x reader

❛ type | explicit

❛ summary | jess is clear: miguel o'hara is a terrible boyfriend. he'll inevitably hurt you-- but peter has other ideas. or, you blow miguel in a library.

❛ tags | spanish tutor!miguel, bratty reader, a kiss with Peter, Miguel's jealousy, bjs, fake boyfriend!peter, slight obsessive qualities, fuck buddies, undefined relationships, fuck boy Miguel.

❛ reqs fulfilled | see here.

❛ sy's notes | the pov on this piece bothers me, it jumps between reader and Miguel. however, i did write two separate pieces for this request (a combined 25 pages vs my usual 11/12). so, i decided to meld them together to create this piece. anywho, if it bothers you, i understand! ❤️ I yoinked a lot of the Spanish from my Spanish learners textbook, hopefully, it's acceptable.

He knew he wanted you from the first day he saw you in the tea cafe. 

Jess and he rarely visited the tea shop. It was settled on the edge of campus. Close to the social sciences and arts, but far from the work he did in the Genetics department. As a Ph.D. student, however, not all the work was done in the lab. Jess liked to see the different types of people that came to this tea cafe, where the chair cushions were fluffy emerald pillows and plants hovered overhead.

“Miguel? What's---” 

You stood apart from the other students with their sloppy, half-cropped, or frumpy appearances, there was a particular care you took to dressing. It was the embroidered bow in your hair that drew his attention. When you left to fetch a refill of chai, he noticed the soft, frilled socks in tiny ankle boots. He just knew you would taste sweet, leering as he watched you at the drink bar. Jess glanced in your direction, the way you adorably bowed your head after the tea artist gave you your drink, and just knew. Jess looked over her shoulder. 

“Not her.”

Jess’s voice was a drawn-out sigh of your name, punctuated by her fist beating the table. Miguel perked at the mention of your name. Oh, so she knew you. She was probably sick of his shit. Good, he was also sick of being used as a vibe check for the lesbians she wanted to pick up.

“Don’t you have enough side pieces?” 

Miguel didn’t respond. 

“She probably has a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Look who she's with.” 

That finally got a response. 

“You don’t know that,” he kept his eyes straight ahead. You caught him staring, wiggling your little fingers in a hello as you sat at a table. "I want her."

You sat with an incredibly frumpy, annoying photography student who once took his picture for the lab website. Could he be… his attention wavered when you pulled out a book: Español para el siglo. His lips quivered into a wildly sardonic grin. Oh no, no no. It was too easy. 

“You’ll ruin her. She’s too innocent.” 

He leaned in. 

“Are you going to help me or not?” 

“Buenas tardes,” 

Two chairs and a thin desk. The small study room was more of a glorified broom closet for its students. You were lucky that there was a large window that looked out over the student union, flowers blooming up its brick siding. Bits of lush dark green ivy poked into the window’s view from the library’s tall wall. As the sun set on campus, rich orange and pink settled over the sunset on that warm Friday afternoon. At least the sight was pretty for how overwhelmingly small the space was.

It wasn’t the space that bothered you. It was your tutor.

He was big-- big big. Not just a little big, but really big. The kind of big that was on bodybuilding competitions. It made his long, blue-grey muscle shirt and grey sweats look tiny, sucked to his well-pumped muscle. The room felt a lot smaller as you looked at him, his long brown hair whipped back over his neck. His eyebrows raised on his dark forehead, arms turning one over another, a bundle of muscle.

“Ah... you're him? The man from the tea shop.” 

He pulled free his sunglasses and set them down. His warm chocolate eyes glanced from the edge of your now too-short skirt to the glint of a dagger necklace that beat between your breasts. He’s staring. Why is he staring-- you finger the dagger between your thumb and index fingers, soothing yourself with the manipulation.

“Miguel.” He warmed, pulling the seat out beside him. His voice was buttery and smooth, almost like rich caramel. The lilt in his voice lightened, inviting you to take a seat by him. You should. You thought. Sit down. “Siéntate." 

You stared.

"I said sit down.” 

That was a bad idea. You paused, slipping the bag down from under your shoulder and onto the beige tile by the door. Miguel watched every slight movement. That’s fine. It’s natural to do that. You tugged the bottom of your skirt and took a seat beside him. Miguel pushed the chair back in, pushing your chest to the edge of the desk space. Oh-- oh boy, he was strong. Of course, he was, he was built like a-- 

“Bueno. Now you're settled. How can I help you?” 

Do that again.

“Me? Oh! I... Jess said you could help me need to pass a test,” you murmured. The four semesters of Spanish seemed relatively easy compared to being stuffed next to this Adonis in this tiny study room. Your legs settled over your skirt, hands working over one another to will down the pulse of your wily excitement. What was wrong with you? “To pass my language requirement.” 

You should have been able to do that alone but-- let’s say you weren’t the most applied to the language in your childhood. A tutor was a great alternative to embarrassment and thousands of dollars in classes. If only he didn’t look like… this. His large hand left the pasty back of your chair.

“Hm,” he paused. “¿Puedes hablar español?” 

“Sí,” you murmured. “My mami was-- well, I should have listened to her.” 

Hm. 

You want to know what Hm means. Your leg tremored on its own accord. He swept a leather bag by his side up and pulled out a thick folder, running across several tabs. Lab notes, diet plans, pruebas. 

“It happens,” he notes, sliding a page free. “Let’s see how much you know, princesa.” 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to know more, to hear the hum of Spanish bouncing off his lips. It was a world apart from your mother’s shrill screams on Saturday mornings to clean an already clean house. It held its own beauty and mystery when he spoke it. You took the page from him, setting it down on the bland tablespace by your phone, lighting up with a notification.

Jess When you meet Miguel, don’t do it.

"¿Princesa?" you asked.

"You dress like one. Don’t worry if you fail,” you plucked out a pink mechanical pencil, complete with little animated characters tightened around the wrapping. You perked at his words, choking a small smile. “I expect you to.” 

Why was he like this? You took another unfortunate look at him, his large forearm plastered over the desk, making the book he had to look like peanuts in comparison. God, he was hot-- you felt comparatively hideous, drooling over a man that was out of your league. Maybe he could be your piece of eye candy this year. Your phone buzzed along the table again. Miguel’s eyes shot to it, a frown pulling at his lips. 

Jess Don’t fuck him. He can’t keep his dick to himself.

He reaches over, flipping your phone down with an overworked smile sundering his expression. It’s almost fake. 

“Are you…” you turned your eyes to the questions on the page. “A student?” 

“Grad student,” Miguel answered. So, older than you then. “I graduated with a BA in Spanish and a BS in Genetics.” 

“Oh! A dual degree?” The man couldn’t be normal. He had to do both. “Did it… take a while?”

“No, it was accelerated.” 

He was unreal. There was no way this man was ordinary. It was physically impossible for the man to be that hot and successful. You scribbled across the page, nipping the back of your pencil at particularly hard questions.

“So you just do this for… a living?” you asked him. 

“I teach and train clients, yes.”

“Train?” 

“Gym,” Miguel set his cheek on his fist.

“I do cardio with Jess. No strength training for me.” Jess-- who suggested Miguel to you. You had some shit to bitch at her about the next time you saw her. Namely, why she didn’t warn you about Miguel. He was a boon for chaos in your life.

“I’d waste your time. I’m all marshmallow,” you pat your soft belly. “All pan dulce and burros.” 

He chuckled. 

“You have a beautiful body.” 

And that was that. You set the pencil down on a page half full of answers, glancing toward his full lips. They were quirked into an arrogant smirk. He knew the effect he had on women. He glanced to the page, then to you, his lips growing into a smile laden with arrogance. 

“Your hips--” he glanced down, “My girls couldn’t pay to get them.” 

He noticed. You supposed that the miniskirt wasn’t the best choice for meeting a new man.

“Do you talk to everyone like this?”

“No. Only the ones that look at me like you did." 

Oh. 

 If it were a game of whom ate whom up first, you had to be honest-- it may have been you. You couldn’t shoot anything back at that, angling your head down at the page guiltily. A sigh fell from his chest. His large hand came to the back of your head, cupping the thick bow on the back of your head. His fingers ran across the silk, teasing it between his fingers.

“Calm down, you’re not the first one to do it. You won't be the last,” he turned your head to look at him, large fingers combing through the strands of your hair. He chased the panic in your wide eyes, doe eyes blown wide. Your heartbeat soared into your chest, choking you there, looking for an outlet from your shame. 

“Breathe for me,” he leaned in, his warm breath tingling your ear. His cologne was clean, like the lapse of the waves on the shore back home where the tropical heat was a second skin. You listened, taking a weary, deep breath in, then out again. Again. 

“Go on.” His knuckles rapped on the sheet. Miguel’s hand fell away. You found yourself longing for it again. 

“He’s gorgeous.” 

“I told you not to fuck him," your superior, Jess said, her feet bouncing off the stairstepper effortlessly.

“I didn't-- I just, he called me beautiful.” 

“He would call anyone beautiful if it meant fucking them. Don’t fall for it.” 

You knew Jess wouldn’t say it unless she were serious. She always knew what you needed help with, where to locate a good solution, and had the right words to calm you down.

“How?” you said, louder than you intended. You were suddenly thankful for the pounding music that beat down on your ears in your school’s gym and the rush of people that came and went. “Jess, you’re a lesbian. You don’t understand-- he’s thick. Like, he’s luchador status big. Big, big.” 

“I’ve dated some thick women.” 

“And he likes me,” you said pointedly, rushing to the topmost step, remembering his words. The way he calmed you down from your embarrassment, seeming without concern for his own body. It was… sweet. “Men usually don’t like me, Jess. I’m too… soft.” 

“Okay, girl, whatever,” you were pretty sure she rolled her eyes. “Unless you’re going to be another one of his fuck toys, just ignore him.”  

“How?”

Her stare trained on the floors lapsed. Thirty and she was still going. “If you don’t want him, just fire him. What’s going to do? Come find you?” 

You stopped for the entirety of five… or ten seconds. Enough to consider her words. Enough to quite literally get plop off the stair stepper and onto the cold floor. Jess exhaled a stale breath, reaching over to jam the STOP button on your machine. Ow.

“Good job.” 

Miguel likes to tutor you. Not because you’re good at Spanish, no, for a girl that grew up with a Spanish mother, your skills are quite poor. But he likes the opportunity to have you in a room all by yourself, late at night. Wednesdays are great days for that. 

Your soft buttercup yellow dress is short today, exposing your thick thighs that take up so much of the chair. He pretends that he’s listening as you go over a list of irregular verbs, your lip pouting in response to the irregular verbs. Some were simple in their familiarity like poder with endings such as pudiste; but the plurals and other irregular verbs, you pouted at. It was cute. 

“Miggy, it’s not funny, ” Oh, nicknames now. Miguel throws a glance at your glossy lips, undoubtedly sticky but oh so soft looking. 

“I never said it was.” 

“You’re smirking.” 

“Then don’t whine,” he said. “It’s cute.” 

“Oh--” As to be expected, you shifted your hands between your legs, drawing your skirt in between your legs. He faltered and took a glance, coasting his eye over its edges and memorizing the way it fell over your skin. You’ll ruin her, he remembers Jess saying. She wasn’t wrong, he sensed the bit of it now, how close you sat-- 

“Take a break, princesa. Vocabulary-- ascendencia.” 

Rather than take a break, you turned and caught the corner of his lips in what was a terrible, cherry-red kiss that would stain his skin. But the connection of your lips, puckered in a pouting kiss on his skin, caught him off guard. 

“Descent,” you took his red pen out of his loose grip, scribbling descent by the word. Fuck. Miguel took a sip of now cold coffee. A smile kept pulling at his cheeks, looking out of the window and catching the slight reflection of your lipstick smeared across his lip and cheek, he bobs his head into a nod.

“Correcto.” 

You’re with Peter the first time you see Miguel with another woman. 

It’s at lunch. Tuesdays and Thursdays are regularly spent running to the College of Arts, waiting for Peter to get out, and a picnic. Today, you forgot to bring lunch, running off to the union hand wrapped around his elbow as he talked to you about a bright new camera lens filter.

“These new pictures are going to come out perfect! Thanks for lending me the money,” he beamed. You loved the way he talked about his art-- stopping to show you his newest pictures of the camera that hung around his neck. Peter was always good with a camera, catching you in all the prettiest angles in your trade of photos for… sponsoring a lens or whatever. Or, at least, bringing down the cost. “Look at this one. Look how pretty you look in that dress, kinda like a pin-up! We should do some’a those next.” 

Feet thumping over the pavement, you failed to sense Miguel's presence until you smelled his peppery cologne carried on the air. There, on a bench, he sat next to a girl. She was pretty, with long dark hair and soft skin. Her hand was on his thigh and his arm around her shoulder, eating the last bit of a flaky empanada-- your eyes burned, the closeness of her head on his shoulder, clearly done and finished, waiting for whatever next plan he had. You don’t want to know what that could be.

“Huh? Oh. hi Miguel!” Peter waved to your dismay. You held onto him a little tighter, wringing circles around his sleeve. Miguel spares you two a glance, his eyebrows pushing together. But he waves, lazy and short. You stifle the hot prick of tears at the corner of your eyes and yank Peter away. “Wha-- I’m coming, I’m coming!"

Days later, Peter has a plan.

“I’ve got it-- the solution to your tea guy problem! You should have told me sooner that it was Miguel.” 

Peter was very excited. Why, you weren’t sure. He liked to feel helpful. That’s why he was a photographer. Photography lets others feel beautiful and seen. He picked at your lunch, his head flopped on your thigh as he worked through his camera. 

“I’ll be your boyfriend!”

“You want to be my boyfriend?” you offered him a grape. He opened his mouth with an adorable ‘ah’ of his his lips. You slipped the grape between his lips. He chewed appreciatively. “I don’t know, Peter. Isn’t it lying?” 

“C’mon, I know Miguel. He’s macho. The kind of guy you have to make jealous. And I can do it! I’m boyfriend material. Aren’t I?”

“Sí. But I don’t think I can make him jealous.” 

It was a sunshiney day, sprawled out at lunch on a cool picnic blanket, tracing the clouds when you heard his voice. Soft, smooth, inviting. Your head spun around, this time with a lean blonde-haired girl-- her legs were long, tummy nice and flat, blue eyes shining like little sapphires set in her pale face. She swooned on his arm. The perfect sorority princess. What if he called her princesa, too?

“--close lab with me--” 

“I can do it myself.” 

Miguel’s eyes caught yours, raising his hand lazily to greet you as he walked down the sidewalk, undoubtedly back to his genetics lab on the other side of campus. Over where brilliant boys and girls and theys were, rushing through accelerated scientific programs while you figured out how to fix broken artifacts. He lived in another impossible world. A realm far away from Peter and you: photography and the maintenance of culture and art.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Peter's eyes were glossy with concern. “It’s okay. We don’t have to-- did I say something wrong?” 

You shook your head. Peter sat up, his eyes bounced up-- from Miguel over his shoulder to your sudden sad eyes. Peter set his hand on your cheek, the fibers of his soft pink cardigan tickling your jaw. Your eyes tore from Miguel, whose pace became sluggish as if steps along took immense effort. Peter’s nose bumped against yours, clumsy and oh so Peterish-- his hand on the middle of your back, his warm but cracked lips swallowing the gasp that tumbled from your lips. He tasted of sweet fruit, the sloppy lunch you shared, and a silly comfort. 

He watching? Peter murmured against your lips. 

You nearly forgot to return the kiss, captured in the way Miguel stared-- something in his warm brown eyes was almost wounded. Peter shoved you onto the picnic blanket, a soft sorry murmured under his breath as his thin frame fell between your legs. Miguel stomped away, his bumbling blonde rushing to keep up. 

“Oh yeah,” Peter rolled over onto his back, crossing his legs one over another. You watched Miguel stomp past the tall hedges, out of your line of sight. “He’s gonna be mad at you.” 

“Peter!” 

Miguel was still in a bad mood hours later. 

“¡Qué surpresa!” he murmured, offering you your paper blotted with red circles. “You did remarkably shit on this test. Do you focus on anything? Or just Peter?” 

“Perdona me.” Your focus was shot with his consistent presence in your life. Not that he could appreciate that. 

“How long are you going to keep wasting my time?” 

“Are you talking about the Spanish or--”

Miguel set the red pen down, a sharp slam snapping the pen under his force. The fragile plastic snapped into shards of plastic. He flicked it away, paper and pen both, his large hand flexing in and out of a closed fist. You traced the tracks of his veins along his forearm.

“Are you mad that I kissed you?” 

“Stop.”

“Or are you angry that Peter did?” 

 “Don’t touch me.” 

Though he said that, you didn’t listen. You slid out of the chair and in between his spread legs, your hands trailing his handsome jawline. He jerked back when your lips caught his, the legs of his chair hitting the wall. Though he said no, his mouth opened to your kiss, and his palms flushed against your soft cheeks. You pinned him between your body and the wall-- and though you were sure he’d quickly whirl you off if he really wanted to, he didn’t. His tongue pushed into your mouth, owning yours. His hands skimmed your back, trailing lower and lower down your deep red dress until he connected with your ass. 

“You need to stop.” Miguel broke from his kiss. Though he said that, he brought you onto his lap. You felt little in his large arms, his hands guiding your hips over his crotch. “Before I do something you’ll regret.”

You listened to the sounds of the library’s floor. The scrunch of take out into the trash, the sing of a door opening and closing. It was dinner time. Most everyone had gone to get their snacks— and here you were, looking down at Miguel with rapt eyes. 

“Peter is just a friend.” 

“A friend who happens to jam his tongue down your throat,” he turned the word over on his tongue and found offense in it. “Now why do I doubt that?” 

“He only wanted to help.”

“By kissing you?” 

Your fingers trailed his jaw, dipping back down for another kiss if only to say you could. That Miguel couldn’t tell you what to do. A sound of frustration ripped up his throat. You felt him, his dick twitching to life behind those sweatpants. He felt big. You bit your lower lip— a movement that didn’t escape his attentive eyes. 

“By making you as jealous,” You slid off his lap and onto the dirty floor. But as you lifted a hand, cupping his dick through the heavy fabric, he couldn’t bear to stop you. 

His lips pulled in a wicked grin, your soft palm stroking along his length. He hooked his thumbs into his sweats, yanking them down over his knees and onto the floor. His cock kissed his belly, straining with droplets of moisture at the tip. Miguel set his hand on your shoulder and forced you to heel on the floor. His temperament evened out. “You were jealous.” 

“Yes--” you murmured. “Are.. those girls, are they special?” 

“Special? No, none of them are.” 

“I want to be.” 

“That so?” Your soft hands trailed along the dark hair on his calves, up his thighs, settling your nose where his muscular hand tightened around the root. He wrenched his swarthy hand along his length, drawing along his veiny cock shamelessly. "Let's see how much you do, princesa."

“Please.”

“Aquí se habla español.” Miguel teased. Your fingers dipped down, small tickles of your fingertips as his heavy balls. He watched you massage them with half-lidded eyes, his lips pursing in a pleased hum. 

“Por favor.” 

“Abre,” you did, sliding your soft mouth open, a well of saliva on your tongue. Miguel slid himself into your warm mouth, a ruptured groan fizzing in his chest. You didn’t want to be too loud— someone might look into the small window on the door, and see you on your knees between Miguel’s thick legs, sucking his cock down when you should be going over that test you just failed. 

You caught the salty beads at Miguel’s top on your tongue, sliding sloppily around his thick head, and lapping at his slit for more. Your soft hands stroked along his length, clumsy and shy. He hummed in approval, a sound you were more than thankful to elicit. Miguel took a fist full of your hair and drove himself into your mouth, your tongue stroking the underside of his length. 

“Pero mira esto,” Miguel wrenched his head in your hair, grabbing handfuls of it in his palm. “You can focus on something. Sucking my dick.”

Even if you wanted to look up, Miguel drove your head down onto his dick, the dark, trimmed tuft of his pubic hair tickling your nose. He drew his hips back. You nearly pulled off him, if not for his hand assuring that you wouldn’t move off of it. Drool coursed down from your lips, soaking your chin and neck, connecting to his cock as if it were a spiderweb. Your cheeks flushed with blood— you must have looked a mess. 

“Coño," Miguel tutted with his tongue, grasping his phone. Your lips pursed around his tip, eyes flickering up to catch the lens of his phone camera on your ruined face. A picture or a video, you weren’t entirely sure. Only that it sent thumps of pleasure down your core to know he wanted to record it, keep it close. You suckled along his sensitive head, working his moans free. He set his phone aside. 

Miguel stood and dragged your head along with him to pin you between the ledge of the desk space and his wonderful hips. His hands slipped behind your head, keeping you still and steady, driving himself deep into your mouth. Past your tongue, down your throat, it felt like he hit parts of you that you could only dream of. You struggled with his size, choking the urge to swallow him when he forced you to hold him there. As if your throat was just a hole for his pleasure. Your sad attempt to suckle him down was tempered by the rocking of his hips, his needy face fucking. Your eyes screwed shut, bits of color dancing behind your eyes, the easiest way to deal with this was to focus— on the way he tasted, the scent of his fresh body wash, the light judder of his hips as he came close. 

"Hah-- ay, qué rico," his nails scraped the back of your neck, sloppy and undefined thrusts filling your throat. He spurts thick ropes of his cum down your throat and mouth, withdrawing to jerk the last bursts of his cum over your lips. Miguel’s breath fell from his lips in heavy gulps, meeting yours down on your aching knees. Strings of coughed-up cum connected your sodden lips to his cock, globs of his seed slipping between your breasts. You ached. 

“Tate quieta.” 

You don’t know where you’d go, your palms catching yourself on the floor. He snapped another photo, humming appreciatively. Miguel reached into his gym bag, pulling a sweaty shirt free. Your fingers dipped into his warm cum that spattered across your warm chest, drawing it to your lips. He tasted salty, tangy, and just right.

"You look so-- so beautiful, princesa, just perfect," Miguel bent down, wiping the rest of his mess from your chest and face, gently stroking away all evidence of your face fucking before cleaning his cock and tucking himself away into his sweatpants. He chucked the t-shirt back into his bag, glazing his eyes over your hazy, exhausted eyes. He crouched down. 

“Rule one, I never share my women,” he settled his knuckle under your chin, urging you to look him in the eyes. Something told him you wouldn't be as easy as the others, but for some reason, he shrugged the thought aside. “As long as I'm fucking you, you date no one but me. If I find out you are, we're done. Am I clear?”

He was a walking red flag. But for once, in your good girl life, you wanted that. You wanted to fuck in the library-- against the genetics building late at night-- to kiss him during a sunny picnic. More than you wanted a lot of things. His eyes went soft with your answer. 

“Claro que sí, Miggy.”

He loves it when he gets what he wants.

[liquidtwilight]

My 4” Herbie West Plush Keychains are here! Featuring glowing embroidered eyes and a squeaker in his little tummy. Adopt him today!🧑🏻‍🔬

Preorders LIVE until 4/26! 💚💉

*Projected production+delivery is JUNE!

*Do not let him in your basement! He will bust it down science style!!!

[smithsonianlibraries]

The frontispiece from Encyclopaedia londinensis, or, Universal dictionary of arts, sciences, and literature v.17 (1820) symbolically illustrating the science of optics. An explanation rom the text: The prismatical colours [are] embodied into seven female figures, three of which are distinguished, as generative and primitive elements, by a crown and an embroidered mantle, intimating that the ray of light is composed of red, yellow, and blue only [...] Each figure of these figures holds a representative of one of the seven colors of the rainbow [...]: Yellow: a jonquil. Vert: a green bough. Orange: the marigold. Blue: the blue-bell. Red: the corn-poppy. Indigo: the blue-bottle. and Violet: the flower of that name.

Full text here.

[nobrashfestivity]

Sylvie Fleury

Installation A spherical, golden spaceship, its interior is lined with black velvet embroidered with thousands of individual crystals that glow thanks to small lights embedded in the floor. The melodramatic soundtrack to the 1958 Zsa Zsa Gabor film "The Queen of Outer Space" begins to play, instantly transporting the viewer to a retrofuturistic science-fiction world in which glamazons rule earth and man in merely a pawn in the intergalactic battle for universal control

[autisticgayplushie]

all nine of the stretch goal designs for this campaign - I am not sure how many goals we will be able to reach but there will come a point where I won't be able to do any more goals unless I get fulfillment help, so we'll see if it gets to that point and if I can get help! below the cut are the names, info, and artist statements for each plushie! I may end up changing the names as I am still not sure about ash, sandy, kelly, and luca, but let me know if you like them!

Tristan The Depression Raccoon: Tristan’s plushie will come with a removable hoodie accessory! He loves cozy video games like animal crossing and stardew valley. There are not many widely used symbols for depression that I could find, so I chose Tristan's colors based on how my depression makes me feel, bruised and cold.

Ash the Anxiety Bunny Moth: Ash’s plushie will have fluffy moth antennae and removable magnetic wings similar to Bug’s plush! They love to visit the home depot lights section when their friends are with them! I chose gray and yellow for the main body colors because my anxiety personally deals with uncertainty and things out of my control. The green comes from one of the anxiety flags created by Beyond MOGAI. To add moth features was a suggestion I got that I thought fit very well!! 

Sandy the Obsessive Compulsive Disorder Kitty: Sandy is an artist and loves to draw and paint landscapes! Her wings will be attached via magnet, similar to Bug’s wings. The colors of her design are based on the OCD flag created by lucellion, with spirals in her paws to represent repetitive thought processes.

Melon the Sensory Processing Disorder Opossum: Melon is a silly opossum who has bat wings! Melon’s wings will be attached via magnet, similar to Bug’s wings. Melon’s colors are inspired by the SPD pride flag created by Beyond MOGAI.

Jazz the Borderline Personality Disorder Kitty: Jazz is a tortoiseshell kitty that loves to read!! Jazz’s plush will come with a pvc charm of the hand of Eris symbol for you to put on xer collar if you choose! The colors are loosely based on the BPD flag created with community input by ptsdsafe on tumblr.

Kelly the Schizospec Axolotl: kelly is an axolotl who is studying chemistry and loves science! kelly’s design is inspired by the Schizospec flag, created with community input and organized by schizosupport on tumblr. They will have a collar tag once again made of PVC featuring the associated double sided arrow symbol.

Em the Bipolar Disorder Chimera: Em is a chimera kitty who has dragon wings and a snake tail! One side of the snake tail is smiling, the other frowning. This takes inspiration from the :): symbol often associated with Bipolar disorder.

Cy the Irritable Bowel Syndrome Otter: Cy is a happy little otter griffin! They love to sculpt and craft and sew! Cy’s color pallet is based on the assortment of medications I take for my own IBS symptoms.

Luca the Dyslexia Fox: Luca is a dancer and loves to perform! Their design and colors are loosely based on the infinity heart+ moon and star symbol that is often found on dyslexia flags. they will have L and R embroidered on their paws, which was a suggestion I was given.

[juneberrie]

mbav boys headcanons

pairing: ethan morgan x fem!reader, benny weir x fem!reader, rory keaner x fem!reader

— enjoy this compilation of thoughts ive had about benny, ethan, and rory that i decided would be better in one post instead of three separate ones

ethan morgan ♡

imagine calling ethan pretty boy

he gets so so so red

anyways

imagine you sitting on his bed and ethan's behind you, arms wrapped around your waist while he helps with homework

jane loves you. youre practically her best friend

argh ethan >>>> hes so pretty

remember that one episode when he gets called puppy face?

yeah thats ur contact name for him.

and also ^^

you just randomly squish his cheeks and call him puppy face

argue with the wall 💁‍♀️

benny weir ☆

benny definitely likes to call you "my girl"

its so cute

like he's constantly saying things like "attagirl" "that's my girl" stuff like that yk

and if you do any shows/sports he's screaming "THAT'S MY GF" at the top of his lungs

if you're sick, he tries convincing you to drink a potion he made "that'll make you feel better!! trust me!" and you, very obviously, are like, "ew no. the last time you gave me a feel-better potion, i grew pig ears" "THAT WAS ONE TIME"

wearing his collared shirts >>

would force you to watch terrible nerdy shows with him just so he can hang out with you

rory keaner ⚡︎

oh boy

if it was up to him, he'd wrap himself around you and never let go

soooo touchy

this boy's love language is physical touch

so be prepared for constant touching

you guys sit next to each other in science

and he always has his hand on ur thigh, around your shoulder, or he's holding your hand under the table

he has failed tests and assignments because he was too busy staring at you and thinking, "wowzer. thats my girlfriend."

10/10 calls you babe, honey, regular nicknames

but also

he 100% calls you silly goofy things like sweetcheecks, sugarplum, honeybun, terrible cringey nicknames that make you playfully whack him upside the head

he saw the lost boys once and then dressed like marko for like a week

i hc that rory knows how to sew, so he probably makes you a bunch of really silly stuff, like a shirt with "rory's girl" embroidered on the back in sequins 😭

[exitwound]

Amazon search crossbody bag shaped like a fish. Amazon search crossbody bag but it has to be shaped like a fish. A codfish with its many lovely fins a rainbow trout with all its color options. A herring quality for a good price with pockets meant for collecting shells and sea glass. A prickleback waterproof breathable fabric A pufferfish a school of sea needles a guppy an embroidered coelacanth Please why are you showing me another polygon zippered multi compartment single color nylon usb port rfid tap to pay apple pay portable cash register for traveling merchant traders of the future theft proof pocket with bluetooth encrypted lock Please stop Amazon please Amazon Im searching for a bag shaped like a fish Amazon you are supposed to have everything but you only have the same product a thousand times Amazon you are named after a rainforest I thought you would have the creatures of the earth Amazon you you do not even have bags shaped like the fish of the sea Amazon I want something you can not give me Amazon I am scared of your false utilitarian gods Amazon usefulness to a fish is only as good as aliveness Amazon millions of years have formed the swimming bodies of the fish who could think better forms would be found in computer modeling design programs by designers who job it is to play dead and browse for something copied to copy and add a pattern from the package of default patterns and Target will just love it Target is salivating Target can smell In Color: Dusty Rose like a sharks goosebumps at a drop of fresh blood of course it is a beautiful color of course I found myself alone and hungry for In Color: Dusty Rose (2 Left) Amazon’s Choice which brand will you Choose Tommy Republic Banana Bahamas Old Navy Teen Marines and Amazon You’re My Baby Blue Amazon please swim home Amazon I will never love you Amazon I’m still here because I want to own something from you I want to own a crossbody bag shaped like a codfish with its many fins I want to put my phone wallet water bottle inside it I want to carry it around all the cities of the world Amazon my manager gave me a $10 Amazon gift card to keep me from quitting I quit anyway Amazon now I have $10 to give to you only you I only have $10 for you it’s not romantic but isn’t it? Makes me want to say Hey Amazon what’s your number I think we could be twin primes because Amazon you amaze me you really do and Amazon I want to own a fish shaped like a crossbody bag or maybe it was the other way around was it the other way around I cantAmazon I just want you make it all easier Amazon if you won’t take the weight from me can you distribute it more ergonomically around my shoulders Amazon Amazon I have forgotten a world that was Amazon I can’t remember what a fish is Amazon can you describe it to me Amazon Amazon Amazon 10 Best Known Fish Species of the Amazon River of the Amazon fish described so far by science 40% are catfish and caracines including the neon tetra (Hyphessobrycon innesi), pearl headstander ... Amazon Fishing Species Guide · Peacock Bass · Payara · Arapaima · Piraiba Catfish · Redtail Catfish · Wolfish · Jau · Flat Whiskered Catfish. The Amazon has some 1,100 tributaries, 17 of which are over 1000 miles long. The Piramutaba catfish, a giant Amazononian catfish, is thought to migrate a ... The Piraíba is the biggest leather of fish in the Amazon Basin, reaching 3.2 yards (3 m) in length and 330 pouns (150 kg) weight. It has plump body, ... Category:Fish of the Amazon basin P · Panaque armbrusteri · Panaque bathyphilus · Panaque nigrolineatus · Panaque schaeferi · Paracanthopoma parva · Pareio... Amazon is home to several river monsters including the arapaima which needs to surface to breathe. The arapaima is unique in that its scales ... When it comes to eating the fish of the Amazon River, gamitana (Colossoma macropomum) is one of the most sought after due to its tasty flesh. CARAUARI, Brazil (AP) — Even in the most biodiverse rainforest of the world, the pirarucu, also known as arapaima, stands out. Top 8 most intriguing fish species that live in the A

[cecedownbad]

Hold On

Summary: A missing child's case resurfaced so many memories you wished to keep buried. Sure enough, seeking comfort from the heavy feelings came by as a form of a person. [Spencer Reid X Fem!Reader] Part 1.

Warnings: Death of a child, made up case, made up case numbers, abusive mother, absent father, no Y/N, there is a last name: Cyrus. Hurt/ Comfort. A two part fic, Spencer is a supportive friend here. Pretty much a whole episode of CM. Probable inaccurate science facts, not that great at writing mysteries, I think, don't mind the weird conclusions. Self indulgent in all it's glory (minus the fem part), my apologies. Proof read but I'm blind so lmk if there are bothersome errors.

Word Count: 4.7k

Based on very sad songs that I won't put up cause we deserve better. Binged all 16 seasons in 2 weeks, it was worth it.

Enjoy

"I was always ashamed to take. So I gave. It was not a virtue. It was a disguise."

-Anaïs Nin

"Mom, where's Steven?" A dark room, with nothing but a single bed, and a desk that contained one clock furnished the surroundings. The ticking of the clock resonated within you, each tick causing you to step forward to a door ajar, light seeping through it.

Not too bright, not too dark, moonlight streaming in through the cracks much like a distant scream in a faraway place. "Sweetie? Go back to bed, you have to go to school tomorrow." A still voice poured in, the voice echoed in almost engulfing you but your feet already brought you face to face with what caused all your nightmares. "Steven has not come back from his play time. Where is he, Mom?" Your voice is so soft yet embroidered in concern. "Steven is okay, go back to bed." The woman in front of you smiled, her smile was stretched. Her eyes harboured nothing as if you stared right into the abyss.

Yet, her face was...gone, her eyes were full, her smile, so impeccable but where was her face, why couldn't you remember?

"Oh my sweet girl, you look just like me." She beamed but you stood there confused, to which you backed away from the room and entered your bedroom.

Nothing was out of place, everything remained as it was, like that day, what day was it?

When your eyes took in the room you noticed a small juice box, the very same one Steven had drunk, right after he...wait, who was 'he'?

Then you heard her, "I told you to go to sleep, didn't I?" The anger that seethed from her caused nothing but fear to blanket you. She towered over you, whispering, "I took Steven to a better place."

That was when you knew, your little brother, was never coming back from his play time, he was never going to drink his favourite juice again. That was his fault, he just didn't listen to Mother. This is what happens to children who disobey.

You turned around and smiled at her, "Mother," you called out, "I'll be a good girl, I'll never disappoint you."

All the while you quivered, knowing that your little brother was gone for good, "Steven, I'll find you, I promise."

'I promise, Steven...'

'Who's Steven?'

Your eyes shot awake like you'd been shot with a bullet to your gut, 'Ugh, what?' The sudden rush of light filtered in, waking you from your short nap and making you rub and squint your eyes, then you felt how sticky your back had felt, the palms of your hands damp from sweat. 'You were calling out to someone just now, you said, "I'll find you, I promise, Steven" in your sleep.' Spencer questioned you, his eyes gathering that you showed signs of having a bad dream.

'Uh, nothing, it's nothing, just haven't got much sleep, is all.' You brush off the question, looking around, you get up from your seat, taking in that you were returning from a case in Wichita and the team was on the jet back to Quantico. You excused yourself to the bathroom, the size of it and the dim light were not ideal but you needed to freshen up.

Twisting the faucet, you let the water run and washed your face, the cold water woke you up right away. A sudden rush of relief had hit you, a sense of comfort knowing that your bad dream could not seep into reality, the safety of it was that you knew nothing could get to you when you were surrounded by the best agents you could ever meet.

It happened not too long ago when you were invited to join the BAU, thanks to a recommendation from the Criminal Investigation Division.

Grabbing a tissue from the dispenser by the sink, you wiped your hands and face, throwing the used tissue in the slot made for waste disposal right below the sink. A sigh sounded out of you, with one last look at yourself in the mirror, you straightened your clothes and walked out of the loo. 'How are you doing?' Spencer asked you as you sat in the seat before him, his right hand holding an open book, which you presume is written in Russian. 'Yeah, I just had a bad dream, nothing big.' You once again dismiss him.

It wasn't exactly an alarming thing to have a bad dream. On the contrary, you were accustomed to having nightmares and bad dreams but this one was different, recurring in all its forms. The sounds, the sights, were familiar but all the more terrifying, there wasn't a feeling so twisted as this one. 'I don't think it was just a bad dream, your breathing rate increased from the normal 12 to 18 breathes per minute to 25 to 30 in the three minutes after you woke up and you were sweating profusely. Are you sure you're okay?' He breathed out, his eyes already reading your every movement, catching how you twitched when he caught that you were not telling him the truth. 'Reid...thank you for worrying but I—'

'Alright, crime fighters, how's everyone doing, all tucked in?' Saved by the bell as it goes, Penelope popped up on the jet's screen, 'Yeah, can't wait to get some sleep.' JJ groaned.

'Uh about that, I'm really sorry for putting this on you guys, I know you guys are tired and I hate doing this right after a case and- I have some bad news.'

'What is it, Garcia?' Emily asked

'Okay so you have another case, it's a missing child case in Bakersfield, a 6 year old boy named Stephen Turner, last seen in his, oh this is so sad, in his room. A report was sent 12 minutes ago.' The name made you freeze, you could hear your heart beat quickening, the way it felt like it could run for miles was a pain you were sure you put behind. 'Garcia is that Steven or Stephen?'

'Oh I'm pretty sure it's Stephen, my love.'

'Okay, thanks...' it wasn't relief that washed over you, but the name carried a heavy weight.

'Bakersfield, California, Right?' Luke clarified. 'Yes newbie, I'll have the files sent to you immediately on your tablets and the rest should be at the local Police department there, Good luck guys!' Garcia signed off immediately after.

'Okay, we know the drill, we only have 24 hours or we'll be looking for a body. I'll inform the pilot to change course. When we land, JJ and Rossi go to the Turner house and speak with the parents. Reid go with them, we need to know how he was taken from his room. Luke and Tara, I want you to scout the neighborhood, maybe someone saw something.' She turned to face you, 'Cyrus, you'll be with me, we'll speak with the Chief there.' Emily gave everyone their designated tasks.

Everyone exchanged nods with their partners. You exchanged a glance with Emily, standing up from your seat, you chose to stand all the while till it was necessary to be seated when the jet landed.

-----------------

'Chief Marks, this is SSA Cyrus, I'm Unit Chief Prentiss, What have we got so far on Stephen Turner?' She quickly shook hands with the PD Chief, You took it as a chance to observe the department, a missing child case gave you little time for formalities. 'So far, zilch, I have some of my officers posted around the neighbourhood, even questioned across the street, said they saw nothing.'

'My Agents are already there, let's hope they turn up with something new.' Emily informed the chief and led you both to an empty conference room, informing you that this was the only available room at such short notice. 'Chief Marks, would you mind bringing in prior missing child case reports, preferably going back 20 years.' You asked before he got the chance to leave, there was still one nagging question that you had to rule out.

Could your mother be involved? Or was it your paranoia getting the best of you? but a job was a job, if an MO matched with an old case, narrowing down suspects was a huge load off.

'Anything you need.' He answered in the affirmative after a pause.

'Something in mind?' Emily asked you.

'This is my hometown, I've read my fair share of missing child cases but if there's a chance one of them bares any similarities, we might be able to narrow down our search.' You explained, opening boxes of the gathered information on Stephen.

'Yes, I'm sorry I forgot, after the case maybe you can go see your folks?' The thought was so lighthearted but you had gulped in guilt at the words, 'No, we need to go back to the Academy...my folks and I aren't in good terms.'

'Oh, let me know if there's anything I can do?' She asked softly, which you smiled to in response, 'Of course.'

Emily was always a friend before a Unit Chief when she caught on to indications of a slight change in behaviour, it made it a whole lot easier to speak to her about things you wouldn't bother about with your old Unit Chief.

---------------------------

'What have you got so far?'

'Nothing solid, of the two stacks of cases brought in, 2/3ds hardly match the MO and, the remaining few, let's say it didn't end well for the kids.' You gritted your teeth at the last sentence.

JJ, Rossi and Spencer walked in right at that moment, 'What did you find?' Emily asked the three.

'There wasn't a sign of struggle in the room, it's likely the UnSub and Stephen knew each other or he could have been drugged, there was no sign of a break-in either but the spare key that was left under one of the plants was missing, UnSub definitely planned the kidnapping and was aware of the layout of the house.' Reid informed.

'Mom and Dad are worked up, said they didn't hear anything from the kids room upstairs, hasn't gotten into any fights at school or kids around the area or within the family.' Rossi states.

'Yeah, Joy, Stephen's mom, said he was well liked, got good grades, knew not to trust strangers,' JJ took a deep breath, 'He's a healthy 6 year old boy and apart from not being athletic, he's just one normal kid in a family of 4.'

'Wait, 4?' You stopped JJ.

'Yeah...he has an older—'

'Sister? Say 11 or 12?' You completed, the fear inside you built. 'Yes, 12, how, how did you know?'

That same empty feeling drained out of you, fear blanketed whatever memory you recalled from this place. 'Good guess, I think, is the family here I, uh, I want to speak with them, maybe the sister even.'

'I can ask them to come in but why?'

'I think she might know something or maybe even the UnSub.' You breathed, 'I'm gonna go out for some air, Emily?'

'Yes, of course.'

'Thanks.' You nod slowly and walk out of the conference room and out of the PD. You leaned back on the wall, sunlight barely visible due to it now being autumn, orange-tinted leaves lightly grazed the pavements. Passersby walking hand in hand or holding on to a warm drink. It's a pleasant scene for the beginning of the most painful nightmares.

'...Steven.'

'You said his name again.'

'Ah! Jeez, Reid! You scared the crap out of me, don't do that again!' Stepping back you raised your hands ahead of you in defense.

'Sorry, I brought you coffee.' He offered.

'Thank you, what are you doing? Out here, I mean.'

'I know it's a little bit of an unspoken rule that we don't profile on the team but-'

'But, you profiled me,' you sighed, this was expected, you knew he was only worried about you but it never occurred to you that he'd come looking for you. Being in the BAU for more than a year doesn't make you chummy with each other, especially with Dr. Spencer Reid, or so you've heard.

He was cautious around you, he was not afraid, just that he could tell you preferred solitude compared to the average population. But he never took the chance that when you displayed more emotion than you would otherwise, to walk away. Always asking if you were alright, leaving you small treats at your desk knowing that it helps you. You kept to yourself and he respected that, in turn, so did you. Not many catch on to your subtle way of pulling back from too much physical contact, or the way you'd always make the person before you speak, knowing they had no chance of asking you about the details of the life you lived.

In a way, admiring his skills as a profiler was easy to come by. More so his little actions that left you thinking that he was one of the few people you'd consider opening up to. So listening to his observations was, if not intriguing, worth betting on.

'Okay, tell me what you got.' You let him have at it.

'Well, I would go into statistics but I'll keep it short. You have been on edge from the moment Garcia mentioned your hometown and judging by the way you keep mentioning this person's name, who I'll assume is someone you know from here and bad...things happened, causing you to have nightmares now more frequently maybe due to an anniversary.' He laid out like you were an open book. Who were you kidding? Where would he be if he wasn't good at his job?

Your brows knitted and you let out a painful chuckle but you knew that wasn't all he figured out. 'What else?'

'You had also correctly estimated Stephen's sister's age simply based on the fact that they are a family of 4, which tells me that this isn't the first this has happened here, in fact the very first time it did, it was very close to you or maybe you were involved.' He finished the last of his deduction and looked at you, searching for a mistake in his findings, it concerned you after all.

'You got me, ha. That name, Steven, he um, he was—' you tried completing your sentence, your lips began shaking and you looked away from Spencer because other people seeing you cry was never on your bucket list. 'Steven was my little brother.' You bit the words but it spilled out in all it's shapeless glory.

'Was?' Spencer questioned.

'He went missing, 20 years ago...he was 6, just like Stephen and I was...11, just like that little girl.' It took everything in you, every bone and muscle to let out what you couldn't for 20 years. 'Do you know what happened to him?' Spencer quietly asked. 'All I know was that my mother had brought him out to play and he never came back, whenever I asked all she would do was look at me like maybe I should've been the one that was gone.'

'Does anyone know? Someone had to be searching for him—'

'Reid, no one knew my brother, they...forgot him, or chose to. I couldn't ask what had happened or go to the police station because my mother, she would tell me he was okay.' The warm streaks of salty tears had left your eyes, you wanted them to stop, it was shame and regret that filled your mind. 'Four days from now would be his anniversary of the day he disappeared.' Wiping your cheek and turning to face Spencer, you caught a glimpse of a man that looked like he knew.

Knew how much you were hurting, how that showing this side of yourself was only making it worse.

'I—'

'I'm sorry to interrupt but the Turner family is here.' An officer from the department had called you in. 'Yes, I'll be right there...Reid, thank you for the coffee and for uh, listening, I'll fill you in on the rest if you want.'

He subtly nodded and you both ushered inside.

You spotted the family and exchanged a quick greeting, expressing your apologies and understanding of the situation you began asking questions and later focused on asking the little girl, who was shaken up but put on a brave front to stay strong. Braver than the parents, you note.

'Hi, Tina, right? How are you feeling?' you bent down to meet her eye level. 'I'm fine, it's Stephen I'm worried about and you should be too.' She strongly expressed. Her concern for her brother was what made you smile inwardly, 'We are, Tina but we're going to ask you some questions. Is that okay with you?' Quickly gaining the quiet approval of the parents you proceeded.

'Are you and Stephen close?'

'Yeah, he's very clumsy so I have to look out for him a lot, and because he's so short, I don't like people thinking they can pick on him.' She answered true. 'That's very good Tina, you're a wonderful sister, tell me, lately has there been anyone you know who's been close to Stephen besides you or your parents?'

'No not really, he's got two friends but they both moved away...oh!' The girl had a moment of realisation. 'There's this lady that visits our house sometimes. My mom and dad usually say hi to her, and she keeps asking me if Stephen's been studying well.' She completed.

'That's Rosa, she's the head of the neighbourhood watch, she was with me even when I was in labour  at the hospital here, suggested the name too, you don't think?' The mother's face contorted a little as her mind raced.

How could you forget your mother's name, she flaunted it for as long as you stayed with her. Rosa Cyrus, a symbol of hope so domineering, it paralysis any that gets too close to its core, that's who she was, or who she saw herself as.

'We can't say for sure ma'am, but you should stay here. Thank you, Tina, what you said was very helpful. We'll find your brother, I promise.' You stuck your hand out and she grabbed it quickly, giving you a wobbly handshake her little hands could gather. 'Uhm, Ms. FBI Agent ma'am, I really want to see my brother again, please.'

You sucked in whatever painful thought you gathered and gave the family a smile.

'Thank you, please find him.' The father could barely put up a brave front, his face already riddled with tear stains. 'We will.'

'Good job.' Rossi was outside the door, he gently patted your shoulder. 'Hmm, we need to find him.'

'And we will, after all, with a team like ours and not to mention boy genius, we'll find the kid.' Rossi's words brought comfort.

--------------------------

You immediately called Garcia once you entered the conference room where everyone was gathered, 'Find the location of Rosa Cyrus, any properties in her name and any known associates, She might have moved to this neighbourhood 10 years ago, also I need you to trace her past phone calls and bank transactions.' You felt your patience running thin, you knew this woman from the moment her name-dropped, she was your mother after all. Now all you wished for was that you got rid of all traces of her, including her last name.

'Um Hi?'

'Garcia, now.'

It wasn't your intention to be demanding, or sound angry, emotions getting in the way of work has rough consequences. 'O-okay, I'll be back as soon as possible.' You let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed your forehead. 'Who is she?' Tara asked you, and you paused and looked at her, it was then that you caught on that everyone in the room had a torn look of concern directed at you.

'My mother.' You took your chance and here spills the truth.

'Your mother? What does your mother have to do with this?' Emily asked, she wasn't asking as a friend but as your chief. 'Tina said that Rosa Cyrus had been visiting their house every now and then, checking in on Stephen, claiming that she was only doing her duty as the head of the neighbourhood watch. The mother said she was even present when he was born, and gave him his name too.'

'But why—'

'Okay guys, this is very suspicious,' Garcia checked back in right on time.

'Rosa Cyrus, born and raised in Bakersfield, once married to a construction worker named Daniel Carter. Later she gave birth to one, oh uhm, little girl-' you shut your eyes at the mention of your name, '-and she went into labour once again... the only thing specified about the baby was the gender, it was a baby boy, no records after that, hospital records don't mention a name, date of birth is listed but it looks like at the time they didn't stay in long to mention details. It was like this boy didn't exist.' Garcia sympathetically continued on, you knew she would want to be there for you right now, 'She got a divorce 6 years after her son was born but from her contact history, it looks like Daniel and her never lost touch.'

'That sorry bitch.' You whispered, more so as an undertone, it was loud enough that Luke and Spencer looked up at you.

'Okay this is where things get weirder, she started frequenting the Turner house since the birth of Stephen. A camera feed shows that she was on the way to the Turner's house the day before he went missing.' She finished up.

'Yeah, I asked the neighbours across the street if they saw anything but they hadn't, they did hear a car leave the scene at roughly the same time Reid narrowed down the time he was taken.' Luke filled in. 'Roughly between 11:30 pm to 2 am, which was around the time Joy went to check in on Stephen. Based on the time they heard the car fleeing, he was missing at around 12:35 pm.' Emily gave a quick nod at Spencer's deduction.

'Thank you Garcia, any known whereabouts on Daniel?'

'Searching now and there, the last known location was the police—He was right there. Okay uhh, sending you his address and Rosa's current address, please catch these a-holes!'

'Oh that's a done deal. Garcia?'

'Yeah?'

'My little brother's name was Steven, please, don't forget.' That was a plea. A plea that she understood right away, one that also was directed to everyone in that very room.

The two of you might be at a distance but you could tell she smiled on the other end, 'I won't, sugar.'

With Garcia hanging up, now things have increased in pace, you have a name and a face to give to your unsub all that's left now is to find them and the boy.

'Tara, I need you to tell the chief to pull up an APB on Rosa and Daniel.' Emily handed out orders, and Tara was just as quick to respond, 'Luke and JJ, head over to Daniel's address, If he's there, bring him in and be careful, he is likely on alert since he visited the station. Rossi, Reid and I will be on our way to Rosa's, Cyrus—'

'I know, I'll stay here, I'm too close to the case now.'

'Yes but also, if Luke and JJ get back here with Daniel, he'll demand to see you, There's a chance he knows you're here and that might convince him to assume you would be on his side if he asks for you, you'll only meet him with Tara or Reid in the room with you, can you do that? I need you as level-headed as possible.' She looked you straight in the eyes, which caused you to pause for a good minute to assess all possibilities.

Would you be okay seeing someone you haven't in 20 years? Someone who pretty much played a part in your brother's disappearance?

You took that one minute to take a breath, record all scenarios and with a tight chest you gave Emily your response, 'Yes, if it will get him to talk, I'll play my cards like I always do.'

'Good, let's get moving then.'

You sat down on one of the chairs, watching your team leave the PD, getting armed and ready as they darted out but you didn't notice one more lingering figure. He was quiet but he didn't startle you again this time.

Spencer gave a single pat on the shoulder, but before he could leave the interaction, you placed a hand over his and held on to him. Though the touch startled him, from his gatherings, he noticed that you didn't look at him, you hung your head low but latched on to his fingers in a desperate attempt to feel comfort. Your bad dream suddenly seems to stray from your head and bend the strings of reality, nestling in unrest you didn't want to feel again.

You let out a quiet sniffle, with a daft smile you let go of the hand that brought you safety. 'Go.'

Moreover, he did. The fading figure of your colleague and now close friend, caused you to huddle into yourself.

You're going to be okay. A silent notion of sanity.

---------------------------

'Hey, got you something to eat.' Tara walked into the room and sat next to you, she carefully placed a package of Choux Pastry before you. Eyes darted to indicate a grateful gesture was about to be appreciated. Tara required no words for the way you'd carefully taken out the plate, digging in right away to know that this was the little thing that might keep you going, thank yous fell out of your mouth after a good bite. 'Take your time and eat it though, can't have a good agent choking on a choux pastry on a Tuesday.' She chided.

'So no dying on Tuesdays, duly noted doc.' A light breathy laugh left you. It was the small things, nobody asked or pleaded for an offer of gold to feel better about themselves, if anyone knew that, it was everyone at the BAU. 'We're all here if you need us, okay?' Her voice said it all, that was enough. 'I know, it's why I'm still here.'

Silence had fallen in the room, it wasn't heavy, not at all, but that didn't make Tara's fumbling with case files any quieter. 'You can ask me, you know?' You broke the silence, and the rustling of papers stopped.

'What?'

'I know you want to ask me something so go ahead, don't believe I have anything to hide...at this point anyway.'

She sighed and rose from her chair, 'I just, okay, she waited exactly 6 years to take Stephen, she named him, tried to intervene and raise him like he was her own. She named him after her—your brother, who no one knew existed. Clearly she's reliving an event. So, why Steven? What happened to him?' she began, 'She couldn't have simply waited for another child to be born in the right circumstances, there has to be another boy, that no one knows about who's missing, or maybe a person, an adult who would match Steven's description? This woman needs a trigger to have to wait to do something like this.'

'So you're saying, there's a chance Grace is a...serial killer?'

'She would know how to take care of the bodies, a place or method she knows well enough so that nothing odd would ever turn up.' Tara walked over to the pile of missing persons reports, looking through them with brows crossed. 'Wait, I think there was one case, a 16-year-old boy. He looked exactly how I'd imagine Steven to, check case number 000612-M5-034.' You got up from the chair, standing right by Tara with arms crossed. 'Okay, let's see, Conrad Miller, 16 years old, went missing on June 12th, 2007. Last seen by the local church with one of the volunteers, she was questioned once but was never linked as she had a solid alibi, her name was Grace Cyrus.'

Part 2

[themidnightcrimson]

Present—w. maximoff

summary: in which wanda wants to give you your birthday present at your party.

warnings: top!wanda, fingering, cumstrap, slight voyeurism, lots of groping, wanda being horny and feral, tony stark is our father

this post is for 18+ only. minors: do not interact.

masterlist.

Your father was addicted to showcasing. His new iron suits, each time they were thoroughly assembled and polished, were showcased in glass cases throughout the mansion. Each time his AI helpers (more like nannies for adult men) learned a new skill that he precariously programmed into them, he would drag the whole team down just to watch. And when it was his daughter’s birthday, he had a mission to showcase you to everyone he knew.

Your living room was filled with people you had never even met before. Tony had friends from all over the world and in every subculture of science and technology and millionaires. He’d been introducing you to everyone ever since you were a toddler on his hip, but there were just too many to remember.

An array of “Look how much you’ve grown!” even though you’ve been able to legally vote for years and are a fully formed, fully functioning adult, goaded you to leave your father’s side and head towards the bar. It was like you were only known as Tony’s daughter and not as a valid and serious member on the Avenger team.

Your short black dress did nothing to exacerbate people’s childish views of you, and it certainly left nothing to the eye as you rest your elbows on the bar top, leaning over slightly at the waist and waiting for the bartender to finish making a drink for a few people down the row.

With your eyes incrementing across every bottle in the row of liquor displayed behind the bar, you didn’t see or hear someone come up behind you. In fact, before you could catch a head of red hair sneaking behind you in the mirror that walled the bar, you felt a hand embrace one cheek of your ass, an upper body pressing hard against you to keep you still so that the hand could squeeze your flesh bruisingly hard.

Gasping at the flash of heat that embroidered your skin with their touch, your preliminary worries of being faced with one of Tony’s weird old friends faded away simply from your body recognizing who that hand belonged to. You straightened, hearing a feminine voice hum into your ear, and that was when your eyes focused on the woman through the mirror.

“Wanda,” you whispered, shimmying your way out of her grip, though her hand was insistent to stay locked on your ass.

She gave you no room between her body and the bar as you carefully turned around, and in fact, she took a step closer, conclusively trapping you and giving you no space to breathe.

Your friendship with Wanda had spanned a number of years, ever since she joined the team, but the new spark between you was fresh and exhilarating. It was only a few weeks ago that she approached you rather aggressively, and between several makeout sessions and a few rendezvous of fucking, she seemed to be rather obsessed with you. Luckily, she was beautiful and persuasive, keeping you just as hooked as she was.

You gave her a reprimanding yet gentle slap on her shoulder, trying your hardest to ignore her deep red suit and an off-centered wrinkle in her pants. “You can’t just come up and grab my ass in front of everyone—an in front of my dad!”

“He’s clueless,” Wanda whispered, her deep pink lips crawling into a smirk as she nodded towards where Tony was standing across the room, not even having to look at him to check his head. He was, indeed, blabbering to some woman, most likely showcasing some feat of his to her. “And you…” Wanda continued, her thick eyelashes fanning downwards as her gaze followed in that direction. She grabbed your hips and swung you closer to her. “You shouldn’t be wearing that.”

Her green eyes met yours again with a sultry look that plucked whatever remark you had loaded right out of your mouth. Rolling your eyes coyly, you moved away from her hold.

“I’m starting to think you’re just a teenage boy hiding in a grown woman’s body,” you joked, finally getting the bartender’s attention and ordering a drink while Wanda sat down on the barstool near you, ordering herself one too.

“You don’t appreciate the extra attention on your special day?” she asked as you hesitantly sat next to her, originally considering sitting a seat away so that she couldn’t reach you with her grabby hands.

“It’s not a special day,” you huffed as you crossed your legs, pulling the end of your short dress down to cover your thighs, but you caught Wanda already looking.

“Sure it is,” she enthusiastically said as your drinks were set in front of you. “It’s the day the most beautiful girl in the world was born.” She tilted her head and smirked, but there was an aching twinkle in her eye that proved her words were more than true.

“Shut up,” you dismissed her as you took a sip, but it was only because your cheeks were tingeing pink.

“Hey,” she quipped, reaching forward and placing her hand dangerously north on your thigh. Her fingertips landed right under the fabric of your dress, and it took everything in Wanda’s will to not glide her hand straight upwards. “Really, I’m serious. It’s your birthday, and I want to celebrate it.”

“We are celebrating,” you lulled, gesturing to the room filled with people and balloons and music. “This is a celebration!”

Wanda rolled her eyes and scooched closer to you, tilting her head and seductively whispering, “I have a present for you.”

Her grip on your thigh tightened, and you watched her tongue playfully line her top row of teeth before her lips broke into a devilish smile—she had something planned. You could hardly start to guess what her plans were because she was letting her hand slip farther up. She let one of her fingers press down on your flesh, targeting a bruise under the thin fabric that reminded you of your night with her a few nights ago. The bruise was still there on your thigh, and Wanda knew exactly where it was, and she was trying to tell you in your mind that she wanted more.

Before the message could fully conceptualize, someone suddenly stepped between the two of you. Wanda gasped and snatched her hand away, nearly falling off the stool as your father seemed to appear out of nowhere.

“Dad—” you gasped, suddenly sitting up straight and feeling awkward tension fill all the space in your lungs.

“Ladies,” he greeted, leaning up on his toes and looking between the two of you with a firm smile. You looked at Wanda past Tony and saw the terrified look on her face as Tony’s stare landed on her. He looked her up and down for a moment before snappily remarking, “So Wanda, tell me more about that terrorist group you were in. I am just so interested—”

“Dad!” you exclaimed, and he looked back at you innocently. You widened your eyes to tell him to fuck off, seeing Wanda grow more and more uncomfortable and guilty by the second.

“What? No anti-freedom organization talk? You guys are such party poopers.” The sarcasm in his voice was evident as he snatched your drink out of your hand and took a drink from it, taking a few slow steps backwards, his eyes trained on Wanda. The speed with which he backed away was so slow that it was a good ten seconds before he was finally out of proximity, rhythmically whispering a quick, “Don’t grope my daughter in front of me if you know what’s good for you,” before turning and speedwalking away with your drink still in his hand.

You let out the breath you were holding as Wanda only chuckled, knowing that Tony did approve of her but was nonetheless a protective albeit invasive father.

“You were saying?” you sighed, feeling aggravated at Tony’s need to insert himself in every situation with Wanda. A week ago, he tried to implement a three-feet distance rule between the both of you at dinners and meetings.

“Well,” Wanda chuckled, recovering from the awkwardness that Tony brought. It still didn’t kill her vibe apparently, because she smirked at you again and said, “I’m wondering if you want to see your present.”

“Okay…” you began, noticing that she wasn’t holding any box or bag. “Where is it?”

“It’s in your room.”

You paused, confused. You’d lived in the Avengers compound for a few years now, and surely Wanda wasn’t wanting to drag you all the way to the compound just to show you her present for you. “Wait, my room here?”

Wanda nodded and smiled deviously. “Come on.” Standing up, she grabbed your hand and tugged you off your seat, leaving you no choice but to scramble to catch your balance as she started dragging you up the stairs.

“Why did you put it in my teenager bedroom?” you questioned on the way up the stairs. “Did you go into my room when you first got here? Why couldn’t you just put it on the table with all the other ones? If it’s a ring for you to propose to me with, I’m telling you right now it’s gonna be a no.”

Opening the door to your room, Wanda placed her hand on your back and guided you in first. You looked around at the room you lived in as a teenager. The purple walls and boy band posters were so far gone from your current tastes that the sight made you wonder if you were ever sane in your teenagerhood. You heard the door close behind you which reminded you to search for a present, but the room looked completely normal with no present in sight. As you opened your mouth to ask what was going on, you felt Wanda press against your back.

Your breath stifled as Wanda’s hands rested on your waist and slid up your sides, traversing to your upper arms until they were resting on your shoulders, her fingers nestled under the thin straps of your dress.

Wanda’s lips came close to your ear, her warm breath fanning over the expanse of your neck as she whispered huskily, “Are you ready for your birthday present, babygirl?”

Unsure of what exactly she was referring to as your present, you nodded anyway, her voice putting you under her trance. Her hands slipped farther under the straps of fabric on your shoulders and held them, slowly pulling them apart so that she could let them slide down your shoulders. Pressing closer to you, she reached down to the already low neckline of your dress and pulled it down further until your bare breasts were out, her hands immediately cupping them as she moaned behind you.

“So soft,” Wanda whispered, consuming your neck with hungry kisses and setting your body ablaze with the way she groped and fondled your tits, her thumbs pressing over your hardening nipples as she massaged the tender flesh.

“Wanda,” you gasped, turning your head to the side so that she could access more of your neck to sloppily kiss, and you gasped softly when her teeth sunk into your skin a few times.

“Baby,” she groaned, pressing herself even closer against you. When she dug her hips right against your ass, your eyes, which had remained closed as you endured her gentle touches on your body, popped open as you felt something hard pressing against your ass from under the fabric of Wanda’s pants.

A warm shiver bloomed throughout your body as Wanda grunted and dug her crotch against you, her hands on your chest keeping you still. You now began to realize what your birthday present was as Wanda started moving you towards the bed. Shuffling towards it, your thighs hit the mattress and Wanda immediately pushed you over at the waist, your face hitting the sheets as a pair of hands groped your ass.

“I know how much you like to be fucked like a dirty slut,” Wanda’s labored voice spoke as she kneaded the flesh on your ass, keeping her groin right against the back of your thigh. “Are you?” She slowly peeled the fabric of your dress over your ass between her words, settling the end of your dress at your hips and leaving your behind completely bare. “My dirty slut?”

She punctuated her question with a slap to your cheek, and you squeaked and jumped forward, more warmth developing in the pit of your stomach. “Y-yes,” you bashfully admitted, earning a hum of approval from Wanda as she entertained herself with your ass.

“Good girl, you are my dirty slut,” she spoke as her hand roamed down to your thin panties, pushing them aside so that she could suddenly cup your slit, groaning as she felt how soaked you were. “Already so wet for me.” She swam her fingers through your folds, every movement earning a soft gasp from your lips.

She dragged her fingers down to your clit, finding it instantly and rubbing it for a moment before she slid her hand back up until she found your entrance, slipping two fingers in without warning.

Your hands grabbed at the sheets as you felt Wanda’s fingers explore you, your face pressed against the mattress as you reeled at the helpless position you were in which only added to the moisture that Wanda was exploring. She pushed her fingers all the way inside, pressing around all of your pulsing walls before she slid them out, and when she pushed them back in, there were three fingers this time, as well as resistance.

“So fucking tight,” Wanda groaned, pressing her hardness against you. “I’m gonna need to stretch you before you can take my cock.”

Her mere words were enough to get you squirming on the bed as the woman behind you violated your hole, stretching her three fingers out wide inside you and pumping them just like that. Whines filled the room as you squirmed on the bed, your noises only adding to Wanda’s desire as she grabbed at your ass and fingered you, nearly drooling in anticipating for when she could finally put her new strap inside you.

“Fuck, I can’t wait any longer,” Wanda groaned, removing her fingers from you and wiping the wetness on your ass, leaving you empty and unfulfilled. Internally throbbing, you listened to the sound of a zipper and fabric shuffling before Wanda pressed against you again, and this time you felt the tip of her cock rest against your entrance.

“Wanda…” you breathed as you calculated how big it was just from the tip teasing your hole. It was definitely bigger than anything you’d ever taken.

“It’s your birthday, slut, and you’re gonna take my present like a grateful whore, right?” Wanda halfway mumbled through her heavy breaths of excitement. When you didn’t answer, she slapped your ass, earning a shriek and an incoherent noise of confirmation.

Wanda spat into her hand and rubbed it on your entrance before she grabbed both of your hips to steady you, easing her cock inside you. Your mouth fell open as her girthy size stretched you out around her, and the stinging pain made you hiss and grab a fistful of the sheets.

“That’s it,” Wanda gently whispered, spreading your cheeks open to help spread you more. “Take my cock like a good girl, baby.”

“Wanda, it hurts,” you whined as she stopped halfway in to let you breathe. You already felt so full, but Wanda continued to push further inside you.

“You can take it,” she firmly said, stifling a groan as she pushed herself all the way inside you until her hips were flat against your ass and her cock pressed against your cervix.

“Fuck,” you groaned, clenching your teeth at the pain as she dragged herself back out halfway and slowly thrust in again.

Wanda continued her slow thrusts for a while until you finally eased up, and she marked her new objective with a sudden snap of her hips which drove herself deep inside you and elicited a sharp moan from you, and then she started to thrust her hips wildly into you.

“Look at you, taking me so well,” she said as she leaned forward and grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your upper body off the bed and arching your back which sent her cock hitting a new angle inside you.

She fucked you like that, bent over the bed, dress only covering your midsection, grabbing your hair, fondling your breasts and rubbing your clit, until your body had had enough of all the pleasurable sensations, and a coil of pressure formed in your stomach and threatened to snap at any moment.

“Wanda, I’m close,” you whined, and from the sounds Wanda was making behind you and the lack of pace in her wild thrusts, she was too.

“Cum for me, babygirl,” she grunted, leaning down and nuzzling her face into the crook of your neck and finding a patch of skin to bite as your orgasm unleashed simultaneously with hers.

For a moment, you didn’t realize Wanda reaching down and squeezing the base of her strap until you felt liquid gushing deep inside you, prolonging the aftereffects of your climax.

“Take my cum,” Wanda groaned as she kept short thrusts into you, making sure she was as deep as possible inside you as she filled you with her faux cum. “Take every drop, whore.”

“Fuck,” you moaned, feeling like you could cum again just from the feeling of her pounding her cum deep inside you.

Finally, her strap was emptied, and you both were coming down from your highs, Wanda panting against your neck and holding your breasts, resting her full weight on top of you. You panted under her, your walls twitching around her cock that lay still inside you.

After a few minutes, Wanda finally moved off you, slowly pulling out of you and finding her strap covered in a mix of your juices. Not only were your inner thighs a complete wet mess and your panties ruined, but a drop of Wanda’s cum was already starting to leak out of you. She reached forward and used her finger to push her cum back inside you, taking your legs and pressing them closed.

“Better keep your thighs shut for the rest of the night, baby,” she coyly said as she pulled your dress back down over your ass, helping you to stand up which proved hard because of how weak and shaky your legs felt and how sore you were between them.

As you stood, you could feel her cum move inside you and threaten to gush out. Wanda fixed the top of your dress for you and fixed your messy hair before wiping away some of your makeup that had smeared. As much as she tried to fix you up, it was still evident that you had just been fucked.

“Wanda,” you whined when you could feel wetness seeping out of you, trying to shut your thighs to keep it from coming out. “I can’t go back to the party.”

“Oh, but you have to, baby. It’s your own birthday party,” she said with an edge of amusement as she smirked deviously. This was her plan all along, to give you her little (big) present and then spend the rest of the party watching you miserably try to keep her cum inside you.

“You’re evil,” you whined, throwing yourself against her as she chuckled and wrapped her arms around you, letting her hands fall down to your ass and grab you. If you didn’t have a party to attend, she could have easily taken you again.

“Happy birthday, angel,” Wanda whispered with a kiss to the top of your head.