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aspirationalpeony · 4 months

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Dark Horse

Summary: As a cameraperson on the Abbott documentary crew, you've always had a good working relationship with Melissa Schemmenti. One flirtatious night at her home sends you spinning as you try to figure out if this is really real—not to mention how everyone at Abbott seemed to know about Melissa's crush on you, long before you ever did. (See author's note at the end for prompt credit.) Content Warnings: Lots of smut, a bit of emotional confusion, and me having absolutely no idea how filming anything works. I just faked my way through it, very horribly. Oops! :) AO3 Link

It all starts with a late shoot.

It's just you and the mic guy and one other crew, and your camera trained on Melissa Schemmenti. She talks, in a way she's done rarely so far. A season and a half and she's always conscious of the stare of the lenses, quick to dart around a corner or cut herself off if she knows the opps are listening.

She takes big sips, almost gulps, from her wine glass. She leads you back and forth across her house, reaching over tables or pointing along walls to find a photo here, another there, and talks. "Me'n Kristen-Marie... This one—" pause for more wine—"from my college graduation." It's the two of them, almost mirror images of each other at that age, with a tall man whose lean face makes you think he has to be their father; on the other side of the girls is their Nana.

There's no trick in this photo: no wedding dress, no blood, no hint of drama between the sisters at all. They just look hopeful and desperately young. This feels private, that Melissa could have been so young—something that shouldn't be content for the show—and you feel an impulse to duck the camera away, hide her secret. When you look at Melissa again, she’s watching you; there’s a glitter in her green eyes you can’t interpret: not hostile, and not the look she gets when she’s hustling someone, either. The gaze she’s giving you is strangely soft.

“Whaddaya think?” she says, to you, not to the camera.

You swallow. Nothing you say will make it to the final cut, but the editors will hear your answer, so you can’t tell her she’s beautiful in that picture. “I think I’m lucky you’re showing me this,” you say at last.

Her eyes move over your face. You feel it almost like a touch, intimate and slow, and you aren’t making it up: her gaze stops at your mouth and hovers there. She bites her lower lip before she lifts her wine glass again for another pull. “Maybe I like ya,” she says. “Maybe you’ll get luckier.”

You’re still blushing when you wrap for the night. You sit on your couch at home—you’re always insomniac after shooting at night, your brain and body still buzzing with the work—and put on Netflix on low volume and you don’t watch, just feel your cheeks still burning, thinking about her lipstick on her wine glass.

Of course, the whole crew knows the story by the next morning. When you turn up, Pedro, your best friend on the crew, says, “Look at you! Dark horse!” and it makes your face sear with heat all over again. He lowers his voice, leans in and nudges you. “C’mon, nothing in the contract about that. You deserve a little fun. Let your Italian mama take care of you.”

You cringe. “Please,” you say, “never say ‘Italian mama’ to me again. Okay?”

“Just sayin’,” he says, and leaves it alone.

Of course, it doesn’t leave you alone. You’ve learned the best way to sneak up on a conversation with Melissa and Barbara is to come at it around a corner, so you’re hovering down the kindergarten hall, camera on the two women, when you hear your name, making you stiffen.

“You said that?” Barbara’s voice is incredulous, sharp. “What did she say?”

“Nothin’, really,” Melissa says, “she was on the clock, y’know.” The smile starts in her voice before it grows on her face. It’s a Cheshire smirk bigger and deeper than you’ve ever seen. “She got all flustered. It was cute. You think she knows I was shootin’ my shot?”

“I think you could have ‘shot your shot’ with a little more dignity,” Barbara says crisply. “Like an adult does. Politely. Pleasantly.”

“Soberly,” Melissa says. “Listen, if it works, it works. I just gotta find out if it did, y’know. Work. She’s kinda shy.”

“I didn’t know you cared for that.”

"What, the quiet ones?"

You have to pull away. You're going to miss the rest of the conversation, but your face is burning again, your heart is pounding, and you're grappling with the reality that Melissa and Barbara are talking about you, that you're subject enough between them to be chatted about so casually, that all this footage is... God, are you ever going to live this down?

You'll go shoot some Janine and Gregory. That's always a crowd-pleaser; the audience loves the sweet tension between them, the way the space between their bodies turns tangible the longer their eye contact holds. You try not to think about Melissa's gaze on yours last night. You try to do your job.

That goes as well as you might expect. Fifteen minutes into some uninspiring quiz-grading ("oh, I never fail anyone," Janine says, "I just give 'em a different colored star—they like the gold ones best, so—") Pedro comes to find you.

"Hey, listen," he says, "I need you to come take care of your Calabrian chili pepper."

"What?"

"You know, your spicy linguini. Your Italian ma—"

"Stop." Your head whips toward Janine at her desk and then back to Pedro. The only thing you can think of to say, your heart thumping all over again, is "She's Sicilian, not Calabrian."

"She's giving us nothing. You got to come do her talking head. She keeps trying to square up to Kai and he doesn't wanna fight her."

"What makes you think she won't fight me?"

He gives you a look over his glasses.

The change in Melissa is instant when she sees you approach. Those folded arms, her squared shoulders, her broad, foot-planted stance—it all melts. She leans into the wall, her head tipping, one booted foot lifting for her toe to play in idle lines along the floor, and, yeah. Whether you picked her or not, this is your Sicilian chili pepper, and you swallow hard as you approach.

"Heya, hon," she says, "who's this clown they got me workin' with? Don't they know I only do this with the professionals?"

You mumble a little as Kai looks between the two of you, rolls his eyes, and backs off.

"We were talking about her Friday night plans," Pedro says. "It's school game night and she's not going."

"Yeah, the kids are too easy to hustle," she says, "it ain't even fun. What, do I look like I wanna spend all Friday winnin' their, I dunno, their Yu-Gi-Oh cards?"

Now's when Pedro should prompt her, ask a question. You glance at him; he nods his permission. "Not sure those are a thing anymore," you say.

"Their Pokemon cards," she says. "Whatever. Point is, it'd be like taking candy from a... Jacob."

You don't look at her; you focus on the camera. It's easier than holding her green gaze. "Is that where you draw the line?"

"Gotta draw it somewhere," she says.

You can't help it. Cautiously you look up, try to make your voice neutral: "So how are you going to spend Friday night?"

She lolls her head to one side and looks at you. She sticks her tongue into her cheek. "Prob'ly practicing tricks," she says.

"Tricks?"

"Yeah," she says. "With my magic wand."

You don't really remember the rest of the interview. You sure you babble some other questions, and she gives you some smirking answers, but your head is full of white noise and a singular image: Melissa Schemmenti with a vibrator between her legs.

You're sure other things happen that day. Pedro definitely ribs you some more, you and Kai go get lunch and he complains for a while, Gregory and Janine have one of their not-flirting conversations where he draws up a tightly-plotted itinerary for game night, trying to prove it's possible to run a children's event without delays (it all goes back to his father, of course), at some point you go home and numbly resume your post on the couch in front of your TV screen, trying to make sense of it all.

That picture won't leave your head. You think of the look she gave you that night at her house—intimate, caressing—and how she'd look deep in her pleasure, drunk eyes half-open, her face pink, her hair wild. Does she get naked when she touches herself? She seems too impatient—more like a jeans around her thighs kind of woman—but for a night she's planning ahead—a night she's set aside, just for her pleasure...

Your head drops back and you shut your eyes to see her more clearly. You can imagine the scattering of freckles over her shoulders and chest, the shift of her heavy breasts and the hard peaks of her pink nipples—how does she like to be touched there? Maybe she grabs one breast while she uses the vibrator, plays with a nipple, imagining the rough, confident hand of a lover. You can see the soft field of her belly, the abundance of her hips, her thighs, picturing her cunt, the head of the vibrator against her clit—she doesn't tease, can't tease herself, you imagine, not Melissa.

You can almost smell her sex, you think, until you realize it's yourself you're smelling. Your cunt throbs. You could shove a hand into your underwear now and just take care of it, but...

Your small toy collection lives in a box under your bed. It's nothing fancy, but you do have a small wand vibrator. You peel off your trousers and underwear and drop onto your bed, back against the pillows, holding the purple toy in one hand. Does Melissa have one this size? Or a big, classic one, the kind that could buzz your clit right off? You click the toy on and draw it up your thigh. As it nears the sensitive crease between your leg and your sex, your thigh twitches without meaning to, your clit aching, and you think, okay, no foreplay.

You can't help but wonder as you delve the thrumming head between your folds: does she know you're doing this? Was that the idea—plant herself in your head, grow over everything, including your common sense and your inhibitions, until your whole world flowers Melissa? Could she be doing the same—getting a head start on Friday's plans—thinking of you, right now? You're normally quiet when you do this, but that makes you groan aloud. Your clit pulses.

How does she do this, on a school night, like tonight? Back to the image of her with her trousers halfway down her legs, her hand and her toy crammed into the space between the fabric and her body. You can't help but see her in the outfit from today, that green, clinging top, the black blazer discarded somewhere, slacks caught just above her knees, her hair mussed and tangling against the pillows as she works the vibrator over her clit. No playing games for her, either; just getting the job done, hard and fast.

You come, watching her in your head, her name on your lips; you hope she comes tonight, too, thinking of you, of what she’s doing to you.

The next day, Janine, Gregory, and Jacob are in hushed conversation by the supply closet. You pick an angle from just inside the nearest classroom and train your camera on the slight crack of the open door and you can hear them, even though they think they’re being quiet—classic them.

“I don’t know, what do you think?” Janine is saying. “I think it’s kind of nice.”

“I think,” Gregory says, “it’s like…” He pauses, picking his words. “Like watching a dog shake a chew toy.”

“I think it’s very brave of Melissa,” says Jacob, and your heart drops into your stomach. “Considering the historical era in which she grew up and started her teaching career, being openly bisexual in the workplace must be a very—”

“Please don’t let her hear you call her ‘historical’,” Gregory interjects.

“It’s cute she has a crush on the camera lady,” Janine says. (“Cameraperson,” Jacob corrects.) “I just want it to turn out nice. You know, the vending machine guy didn’t work out, so. And now he doesn’t stock Gushers anymore.”

“Maybe she’ll be a little more relaxed,” Jacob says. “A little more… Open, fun—”

“She’s not going to start liking you because she’s dating somebody.” Gregory, with characteristic bluntness.

“One can hope,” Jacob says.

“The camera lady—person—is so quiet, though,” Janine muses. “Melissa is so intense.”

“Bet that’s what she likes,” Mr. Johnson says, making them all jump. He steps out from the supply closet; he’s holding a Teachers Without Borders coffee mug you know has to be Jacob’s. He takes a long, slurping sip, making sure everybody sees the logo on the cup. “Melissa gets a sweet little thang to take care of. Camera lady gets an Italian mama.” He says it eye-talian. (Where is everybody getting this phrase from?)

“Please don’t say ‘Italian mama’ again,” Gregory says, giving you a little flush of vindication.

“Why not?” Mr. Johnson says. “When I was on tour in Rome—”

That’s enough for you. You decide the rest of the conversation can go unrecorded. You check the time and it’s nearly lunch—thank God, because you don’t want to make eye contact with any of them for a while; you don’t know how to feel about them all talking about you. You know it’s not you, really, they care about. It’s Melissa, her caginess at odds with how boldly, openly she’s been flirting with you, an attraction so obvious even the younger teachers that she’d never confide in can see it.

Something light and effervescent swirls in your stomach, but there’s a leaden weight there, too. Nerves. And desire. You let Pedro know you’re taking lunch and leave your camera behind, finding Kai a block down, away from the school, hitting his vape. He passes it to you and you take a pull, letting candy-scented vapor out of your nose. You don’t really smoke anymore, but anybody would need a little comfort under these circumstances, you think.

“So what are you going to do?” he asks.

“What?” You didn’t know Kai cared about that. “I mean, I guess I’ll talk to her, maybe give her my number, then see—”

“For lunch.”

“Oh.”

You get hoagies together, eating them over a public trash can, standing up. Back at the school you scrub your hands clean in the bathroom and duck Pedro and your camera and you find your way down the second-grade hall to the classroom that's usually the noisiest. It's quiet now: the kids are at the library doing a reading circle with the librarian. Maybe it says something that you know their schedule.

She's in there, glasses low on her nose, working. You pause just on the threshold of the open door. You try to piece together everything you know about her, to make it all fit into the person you see, just a small woman with a love of pleather and a never-ending supply of high-heeled boots, a baseball bat taped under her desk (you've seen it), a guitar propped in one corner of the classroom (does she ever play?), how now she's focused and reading with scrupulous intensity, doubling back on a sentence from time to time, her manicured hand coming up to twitch away a lock of red hair.

You knock on the open door. You see her hand pass under the desk toward the bat before she realizes who's standing there. She cracks a grin, lifting her glasses up to the top of her head. Her eyes travel up and down your body in another look that feels like a touch.

"I was wonderin' when you'd stop by," she says.

You give a little hum. You cross the room to lean against a student's desk, just opposite hers.

"No camera?"

"No," you say, "I wanted it to be just us."

"Huh." She taps her pen on her paper a few times. "You here to let me down easy?" She lifts her chin. The look she gives you isn't intimate now: it's far-removed and challenging, like the gaze of a duelist across a plain. You've seen this before, the way she starts closing herself off, armoring up.

You shake your head. There's a shift in her expression, but the walls don't quite come down. "I guess I wanted to ask what you want."

"That ain't obvious?"

"I mean..." Your arms come up, folding over your chest. "You know, I was here last season, when you were dating that guy... Hulk Hogan."

It surprises a laugh out of her. "Yeah, Gary."

"You asked him out and it was... Different. I mean..." You can't think of how to say it. At last, you say, "Do you take me seriously?" No, that's not it. "I mean, are you just trying to hook up with me? Because, I..." You're starting to burn up again. You rub the back of your neck. "That's not the kind of... Listen, you're beautiful, and sexy, but that's not what it would—I mean, to me, it—"

"You're so cute when you're all shy," Melissa says, sounding equally mystified and amused. She stands. "Look... Maybe I did this all wrong." She circles the desk. "Kinda treated you like a piece of meat."

"Just a little bit," you say.

"I take you serious, hon." She doesn't cross the gap between you two, but mirrors your pose, leaning on the edge of her desk, arms crossed over her chest. "Look, Gare was a nice guy. But he didn't have, you know... He didn't make me wanna..."

You think of Gregory's metaphor. "Shake him like a chew toy?"

Another laugh. "Yeah, that. And I guess I felt... You know, I'd kinda uncorked the bottle, datin' him, when I thought all that part of my life was done, and when you were at my place the other night, you just looked so good, and I just wanted..."

You smile, eyes down. The cold uncertainty is trickling away and there's warmth pouring into the spaces it's left behind. "Okay," you say.

"Okay?"

When you look up, she's moved a little closer. You can smell her perfume again, warmed on her skin over the course of a long day. You've had the privilege of seeing her in detail, so many times: the fine, thin skin around her eyes, the creases at the corners of her mouth that forecast her smile, the tiny hint of gray growing in at her temples, the mellow warmth of her green gaze, the slope of her nose crooking slightly to her left. It's different with no lens between the two of you, when you're close enough to touch.

"Yeah, okay," she says to whatever she sees in your eyes. She lifts her chin and drops her gaze to your mouth. It's a clear request.

You answer it. You dip your head; there's a moment where your noses nearly bump, but you change your angle, catch her lips with yours. There's a tackiness from her lip gloss and an incredible softness underneath. The warmth of her almost shocks you, vivid past your imagining. Her hand pets at your jaw; you feel the other curl into the collar of your shirt. She pulls you closer by the fabric and you gasp.

You renew the kiss, lips sliding over hers. Your hand rubs down her lower back. You can feel the divot in her spine where it meets her pelvis, just above the generous curve of her ass. Before you can overthink it, your palm is gliding over that curve, your fingers digging into its lushness, Melissa gasping against your mouth as you squeeze.

"Oh," she says faintly when the kiss is over and you're catching your breath. "Huh." Her look is glazed and a little bewildered.

"I, um, I don't want to send mixed messages," you say, "but about Friday..."

"Friday?" she echoes.

"Yeah." You bite down on your smile, watching her try to remember what the hell you're talking about. "I was thinking... I know a few magic tricks of my own."

"Oh," she says again. You watch her eyes spark with understanding, her smile appear slowly, then all at once. "I guess you could come over and show me your stuff." Her hands tighten in your shirt and pull you back in for another kiss.

"Hey, gimme your phone," she says, much, much later, when you're wearing more of her lip gloss than she is. "I want to give ya my number." You don't think before you're unlocking it and passing it into her hands. She lowers her glasses from the top of her head to the bridge of her nose and thumbs her way around your phone, creating a contact for herself.

You have a flash of nerves—what if she opens your Instagram and sees all the stupid accounts you follow? A vision comes of her seeing all the dog-using-buttons-to-talk videos you've liked, her libido instantly withering... Then she's giving you back your phone and smirking at you, wiping at your lip with her thumb. "Might wanna stop in the bathroom before you get back to work, hon," she says.

When you leave her classroom, it's like floating; you've never felt so light. You stop in the bathroom and you wipe all the lip gloss off your smiling mouth. You catch yourself humming as you and Kai catch some footage of Ava pretending to organize game night, Gregory trying to involve himself, Janine admitting to a little competitive streak.

Your phone buzzes, chimes. "Sorry," you say to Janine and Pedro, who's leading the interview. You wait until you can lower the camera lens to check the notification. You always keep it silenced during the day—did Melissa turn the ringer on?

Italian Mama iMessage

Your face burns. You take a corner away from Pedro and unlock the phone.

Italian Mama You made me real happy

Your blush intensifies; something flutters in your chest. The phone vibrates in your hand as another message comes.

Italian Mama Don't know how I'm going to wait until Friday

The echo of your own thought in her words makes your heart flutter again. You bite your lower lip and type back, Me neither. An electric spark of daring moves you, makes you send her, Maybe I'll practice some magic just to make sure I'm on top of my game.

Is that too much? You hope not. You've basically made a sex appointment with her for Friday—sex appointment, you think, and wince at yourself, your own awkwardness; it's a date—and you don't—your breath hitches as three dots appear on your screen, showing that she's typing.

Italian Mama Oh yeah?

Italian Mama Better practice hard

You feel a pulse low in your belly. You're ready to type a little more flirtation when another message arrives and makes you gasp aloud, quickly clamping your hand over your mouth before Pedro or somebody else can hear you.

She's sent you a photo. It's herself pulling down the scoop neck of the hot pink blouse she's wearing today. You can see just the tip of her nose, her chin, the proud line of her soft neck, her freckled sternum, and, holy shit. She's showing you her breasts cradled in a bra made of black lace. And you stare. And you stare.

Italian Mama Little incentive for you

Your mouth is watering. You can see the rosy shadows of her nipples against the lace. You barely register yourself typing back, You're perfect.

Italian Mama Thought you'd like em

You're typing before you can stop yourself. All I'll be able to think about now is what I'm going to do to you.

Three dots appear, then disappear. Appear, then disappear. Your confidence wavers.

Italian Mama I want you to tell me

You've never imagined you'd be turned on in the halls of Abbott Elementary, but suddenly you're so aware of your cunt, you can't stand it. You're throbbing. You peer around the corner; Pedro isn't even looking your way, he's talking something over about the schedule with another producer. You have time. You glance up and down the hall; nobody except an aide going into a room at the far end.

Your fingers fly over the keys. If you stop to think, you'll psych yourself out, so you blurt out every thought, the iMessage equivalent of babbling—what you'd be doing in Melissa's ear if you could have her right now, in your arms, again...

You're so fucking sexy

I've thought about you so much

I touched myself thinking about you the other night

I'm going to kiss you until you go crazy and you're so turned on you can't take it

I'm going to undress you and I'm going to kiss every fucking inch of you

I'm going to play with you until you're begging

Do you like it rough or gentle?

Three dots.

Italian Mama Little of both

You're typing again in a flurry. You can feel your heart pounding, your breath coming in harder. You probably only have a couple minutes left to really make her feel it.

I'm going to be so gentle with you until you beg me to be rough

I want to bite you

Do you like being bitten?

Italian Mama Yeah

I know you do

On your neck, on your breasts

I'm going to bite your thighs before I eat you out

"Homie, you coming?" Pedro says, with the best and worst timing—and phrasing—he could possibly have.

"Yeah, one sec," you say, and you're proud of how your voice doesn't wobble at all. "Let me just send this. Sorry."

I have to get back to work

Italian Mama Fuck you

Italian Mama How am I supposed to teach like this

Italian Mama Come here and finish what you fuckin started

You laugh, breathless and surprised. You text her, YOU started it! If she hadn't sent you that picture... You scroll back up and look again. In the bit of her face you can see, she's smirking, because of course she is. The luscious curve of her breasts—you can almost feel them, what it would be like to drag your nose down between them, mouth at the soft skin...

Pedro's waiting. You send her a bunch of blowing-kiss emojis and put your phone away again. You're still buzzing with arousal, but you feel a strange satisfaction, knowing that Melissa is a few halls away, squirming behind her desk, thinking about all the promises you've made.

The day passes, somehow. It's a strange mixture of slow, syrupy boredom and electric, frenetic activity as more preparations are made for game night, and your phone periodically buzzes with another message from Melissa. Thankfully (for your pussy—you think it might fall off if it keeps aching like that), the two of you leave the subject of sex, and just talk.

She asks you your birthday, your favorite food. Where did you grow up? What's your favorite color? Each one makes you smile. You feel like you're on the receiving end of a Schemmenti interrogation, a mob boss with her goons behind her. You get her answers back in turn: July 19. (You respond in shock, You're a water sign??? and you can almost hear her voice when she dryly responds, I got no clue what that means, hon.) Pasta con sarde. Grew up here in South. Pink.

Your heart flutters with every new thing you learn. Even though you go home (and rub one out) alone, she's a presence with you, not just in your fantasies; you find you're texting her until you fall asleep, phone sliding out of your hand onto the bedspread. And when you wake up the next day, preceding your alarm by a bit, you find a text from her waiting for you, just a few minutes ago: Good morning, baby.

You levitate all the way through Thursday. You spot Melissa a few times that day, but it's a packed day for her two classes, so mostly it's in the hall as she marches lines of students to and fro. She gets you back for yesterday, though: pauses in the doorway of her classroom as she's filing the kids in after lunch, and gives you an up-and-down look of such searing intensity that your body heats, scalp to toes. She smirks before she vanishes into her room.

She makes you crazy. God, she's incredible. You're texting her every chance you both can get, though she's sparser while she's with the kids; it's all light stuff. Get lunch here today, she tells you, Shanae made beef patties, and when Shanae slips you a couple of golden-crusted pastries, you bite into them, smelling warm, floral curry, savory beef on your tongue, and think of how Melissa it is, feeding you from a distance.

That afternoon, just after dismissal, she calls, "Hey," to you from her classroom door. You try not to jump to attention. "I gotta do a lot of work," she says, playing with the strap of her Apple Watch, "or I'd ask you over, but..." Strangely, her eyes drop. It's a hint of shyness and it makes your heart patter, tenderness and affection for her pouring into your chest. "I was thinkin', why don't we go out and get, like, food or a drink or somethin' tomorrow? You know, before you come over."

"Okay," you say. Her eyes flick up and as soon as she sees your goofy grin, her shyness melts away, turns back into the smirking self-assuredness you're more familiar with.

"You pick the place," she says, knocking the wind out of you at once.

Oh, crap. You remember what it was like with her and Gary: he tried to take her to a shitty spot for their first date, and she flicked him away from her like a bug. She's challenging you, you think, asking to be impressed.

You can do that. Dark horse, right? "Okay," you repeat. "I'll pick."

She leans back against the doorframe. All at once she's in that lolling, casual, flirtatious posture that she assumes for you and only you, her face tilted up, gaze intimate and a little sly. "You headin' out? I get a goodbye kiss, or what?"

"Okay," you say a third time, and you can barely kiss her, you're smiling so widely. You take your fill of her, in every sense, one more time before you leave for the day, nerves and excitement and that thread of arousal all tangling together, like a knot of live wires.

You're texting her later, because of course you're texting her later. Do you want it to be a surprise?

Italian Mama I dunno

Italian Mama Surprises never seem to work out for me

That gives you a little twinge. You find yourself running the tip of your finger up and down the side of your phone, the way you'd touch her hand or her cheek, if you could. How about just this one? you ask. And if you hate it, I'll never surprise you again?

You wish you could see her face. It would help you know if she's resigned or wary or scared. You don't want her to be antsy or nervous going into tomorrow; you want her to feel like she makes you feel: like you've got balloons and not bones, like a wind could catch you and carry you off, you're so light and so happy.

Italian Mama Ok

Italian Mama I'm gonna trust ya

It makes your heart do its now-familiar flutter in your chest. It's like there's a bird in there, some delicate fledgling thing eager to start flying. It wants to soar, holding its precious cargo: Melissa Schemmenti's trust.

The next day. Friday. Friday. Somehow, the school day rockets past you. Game night preparations have gone disastrously, and it's time for a patented Ava save, with the help of Janine and Gregory.

"Wow, who could've guessed," Kai mutters to you, and fidgets in the pocket you know holds his vape.

Your hand fidgets in your own pocket, around your phone. You and Mel exchanged good morning texts, a few kiss emojis, promises to meet up before dismissal to solidify your plans, but you haven't had a chance to see her at all.

"I don't know," you say, "I think they'll get it figured out."

"I think she's probably going to use it to mine Bitcoin somehow," Kai says.

Honestly, that sounds plausible. You shake your head anyway and make an excuse and scoot past Pedro. He's not encouraging Ava to stream game night live on Instagram, per se, but everybody knows that will guarantee some Coleman-style silliness, so he needs to get her there somehow. (Can you mine Bitcoin through Instagram?)

You don't need to send any directions to your feet; they're already walking you toward the second grade classrooms. Mel doesn't have lunchroom duty today, so you know she'll probably be catching up on two classes' worth of quizzes, or restocking art supplies, or prepping the next lesson's props and tools. Her door is shut and you peek in through the window.

She's writing on the whiteboard, looking back and forth from a worksheet in her hand, glasses on her nose. You knock. When she sees you, the narrow-eyed look of interrupted concentration melts away; she gives you a smile that shows her teeth, the kind that changes her whole face, turning her girlish, almost a little goofy. It makes your heart melt.

You open the door. "Hey," you say as she puts her glasses on top of her head and caps the marker. Being in the room with her, after not seeing her all morning, feels like coming out of the cold to a blazing fire. "Uh, hi. You look beautiful today." Then, for the third time, stupidly, adoringly, "Hi."

"You missed me, huh?" she says, putting down the marker and paper. "C'mere."

As soon as you're in grabbing distance, she takes two handfuls of your ass and pulls you in for a kiss. You're lost in it for long, long seconds.

She pulls back after giving your lower lip a bite that makes you squeak. She tucks her hands squarely in the back pockets of your jeans, holding you against her. "You look beautiful today too."

"Thanks," you say, barely registering the compliment, the way you're chasing more contact, kissing the corner of her mouth, nosing at her cheek. She's so warm in your arms. She's wearing one of her tough-girl outfits, a blazer and matching top in military green, and you sneak your hand under the jacket, finding a little stripe of bare skin between her shirt and her slacks. You touch her there with a teasing trace of your fingernail.

She shivers. Is she sensitive on her lower back? You file it away to investigate later tonight. The thought of being able to have her all to yourself tonight—hours and hours—sends sparks skipping through you. You have to kiss her again.

"You think it's unprofessional, doin' this at work?" Mel asks you breathlessly when you part again.

"I don't know," you say, "but whatever Gregory and Janine have been doing is worse, kind of."

"Yeah, that's for sure," Melissa says, and gives you a third kiss; this time, the delicate muscle of her tongue laps at you, little frissons of heat that go right between your legs.

"I came to talk about dinner," you say at last, when you think you can survive without kissing her.

"Oh, yeah," Mel says, "right. What am I wearin'?"

"Uh..." You hadn't considered it. You're just going in your usual date outfit—a button-up, a nice pair of trousers. "Business casual?"

"Okay, easy. Do I get a hint where we're goin'?" One eyebrow goes up. Her gaze acquires a competitive glint, one you've seen a hundred times through your camera. "I bet I can guess it."

"Here's your hint," you say, "it's not Italian."

"Smart cookie," Melissa says, which leads you both into another kiss, and then another. "It ain't a sandwich shop, is it?"

"No," you say, "I can't beat cousin Rocco."

"Soul food," she says.

"No. I'll come pick you up, is that okay?"

"Yeah, come, like, at five. I gotta change and do my face and stuff." She leans back, giving you a squint-eyed look of scrutiny. "Tell me it ain't French."

"It ain't," you promise, and seal it with a kiss. "I have to go. I'm pretending to be in the bathroom."

"Oh, shit," she says, eyes going wide, "we gotta catch up on this freakin' math unit and I forgot, I haven't peed in, like—"

"Go, go," you say with a laugh, letting her extract her hands from your pockets.

When you return, Kai narrows his eyes at you. You shrug at him and you're ready to get back to work, when he reaches across and plucks something off your shoulder: a single red hair. Crap.

"Damn," he says. "Dark horse."

"What's up?" Pedro glances over at you two. Fuck, you don't know if you can take his teasing today—you know he'll want all the details, and you love him, but you want to just get through work and get to Melissa...

"Nothing," Kai says, and drops the hair. He gives you a nod.

You nod back, warmth and gratitude making you smile. He doesn't smile back—you don't think you've ever seen him smile, actually—but you think you see the corner of his mouth curve up, just a little, as he peers into his camera.

Dismissal, a quick goodbye kiss with Melissa, home to get ready. You're normally an all-black kind of girl—it's just easy—but you pause in your closet and find a pink button-up. It's a mellow, soft shade, the same color as a silky blouse you've seen Melissa wear.

You put on your cologne, you style your hair. You look at yourself in the mirror. It’s funny: this is the same face you’ve always had, but three days of Melissa have done something to you. Your eyes look larger, softer; there’s a smile on your lips, small but persistent, that’s been there all day.

You haven’t always been lucky with women. You have love in your heart—God, a lot of it. Sometimes it feels like the water of an ancient lake, going down almost infinitely deep, and yet somehow about to overflow. You spent years going around offering it to anyone who would take it, and once they’d drunk their fill, they just moved on, satisfied, never giving a thought to you, never thinking you might want something back, even just gratitude.

So you pulled away. You just hurt too easily: keep them at arm’s length, never close enough to bruise. The quiet one, the shy one; that’s who you became over time, knowing that if you gave out of your abundance, you’d only be depleted. No one’s ever filled your cup.

You find yourself chewing your lip, staring at yourself. You want this to be different. You want this to be something else. Can it be?

You park your car in front of Melissa’s and find yourself wondering: text, or knock? You’re starting to get out of the car when the front door opens, and a rush of surprise and pleasure comes at the thought of Melissa waiting, watching for you. Then your breath catches hard in your throat.

She’s wearing a little red dress that… “Wow,” you say, before she’s even close enough to hear. The square neck of the dress is cut lower than her usual wear, and shows an abundance of skin that makes your mouth water. There’s a princessy quality to the cap sleeves, a delicate detail that’s perfect for Melissa: blazing, challenging red, with a hint of sweetness. The hem stops just above her knees. The fabric shows her body in intimate detail, the delicate rounding of her stomach and the flare of her hips, straining across the perfect shape of her thighs.

Her hair is down. Even late in the day it has a bit of curl. Her green eyes are like gemstones in the early evening light. Her heels have got to be four inches, but she walks with the steadiness of a queen. She’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.

You circle the car to get the passenger side door. “Hey,” she says, surprised, coming closer, “it’s pink,” and touches your sleeve. It’s not even contact with your skin, barely contact, period, but it sends tingles up and down your arm. “That’s my favorite color.”

“Yeah, I know,” you say, grinning like a fool.

Her eyes drop—that hint of shyness again, that tenderness that makes your heart strain against your chest, trying to reach her—before they flick back up. “How do I look?”

“I could look at you for hours,” you tell her honestly.

"I'd kiss ya, but you'd mess up my face," she says. "Here, you get one." She turns and offers her cheek.

You're smiling as you lean down to kiss the offered skin. She's soft and warm, and you get the powdery scent of her makeup, the richness of her perfume.

"Now, c'mon, feed me," she says, and you laugh and open her door.

You drive. She's exactly the kind of passenger you expected: "Hey, check it," every time she sees a car nosing out past a stop sign, or "On your left," when you're trying to merge. "Hey," she barks when somebody cuts you off, a gesticulating, accusatory hand in the air, "cazzo, you wanna watch where you're fuckin' going?"

Melissa. Abrasive, loud, bossy, and you don't feel bulldozed at all. You feel charmed. The smile won't leave your face. You don't know if she could be more herself than right now, in your ancient Volvo, wearing the sexiest outfit you've ever seen on her, looking simultaneously bold and delicate and delicious, and hollering out the window like an angry truck driver.

She's checking her phone as you pull up outside the restaurant, and doesn't look up again until you're opening her door. "Oh," she says, surprised, looking at the place: it's a red brick building, no sign; just a single hanging red lantern beside a white door. You can see her trying to puzzle it out, glancing at you and back to the door.

"It's a bar," you explain. You open the door to your favorite izakaya. Low, golden light and warmth spill out with the Jrock playing over the speaker system.

Melissa cocks her head and looks at you curiously. You only notice that her hand's in her clutch purse when she draws it out again; you hear the rattle of her keys dropping back to the bottom. "Thought you might'a been about to take my other kidney," she says. "I was gonna fight ya."

You blink. It's one of those Melissa-isms, delivered in her dry voice, that you think might be a joke, but it might not be, either. "I wouldn't win if you did."

"You sure as hell wouldn't, baby," she says, and lets you hold the door for her as she steps inside.

You love this place. It feels a bit like your first apartment after you left home, a lot of exposed brick, shoddy white paneling creating an accent wall, and decor that's a little vintage, a little silly: a big, ornate mirror that might have once decorated a cheap theater, brass sconces for lights, Gojira posters in the style of classic ukiyo-e. There's booths on one side of the room and a mirrored bar on the other, with a wall of sake and Japanese whisky.

The hostess recognizes you, waves hi, gestures toward the room for you to seat yourself. It won't start filling up until a little later, so you have your pick of the booths; you take the side that puts your back to the door, letting Melissa have the sightline to the exit.

The low light flatters her. Any light flatters her, but there's something about the dim, intimate, golden warmth of it that makes you stare as she studies the menus, first the drinks, then the food; her eyelashes cast delicate shadows on her cheek, the curve of her lips carving lines there.

She looks up and catches you. The thoughtful twist of her mouth turns into a smirk. The question, though, isn't what you were expecting. "What made you pick here?"

Huh. "I..." You rub the back of your neck, dropping your gaze. "I really like it." That's a start, but not all of it. "I thought you might not have this kind of food all the time. I never see you eating it and I wanted you to have a nice change. And..."

"I come here alone a lot." You shrug. "I have... Good memories here." They are good memories: people-watching, trying new drinks and food, chats with the bartenders, a karaoke night where you fell in with a group of laughing, drunk women who all worked at the same office, who tried to persuade you to bar-hop with them until last call.

But it's always been you, alone; sometimes folded in with somebody else out of goodwill, sometimes noticed for your familiar face and your generous tips, spared a few more minutes of a busy mixologist's time, but always a separation, a glass wall between you and the rest of the room. No one's been on this side of it with you before.

"I wanted you to have a good memory," you say, finally. "I wanted to share it with you."

You glance at Melissa. She's watching you with a look you recognize. It's the one she gave you that night at her house—just earlier this week, but it feels like a lifetime ago. It's tender and intent. It's encouraging. Like she's watching a flower bloom.

"It's already a good memory for me, hon," Melissa says. Something nudges your ankle. It's her foot in its killer heel, gently insinuating between both of yours. You feel her knee against yours, your calves aligned together. She smiles at you. "We're here together."

Your heart does one of its aerial flips.

"You sure get shy for somebody who was talkin' about suckin' my tits before, though," she says.

You choke on nothing. Your face and ears burn. She laughs, her head dropping back, the light glinting on her saints' medals.

"Biting," you squeak, when you can get air. "We were talking about biting."

"Biting," she says, "right. How come you can say all that to me but you're nervous tellin' me you like a bar?"

It's not a bad question. You trace the grain of the wooden tabletop for a second or two, eyes down. "I'm used to giving other people what they like," you say. "I don't mean—it's not that I was lying or faking. No way. I meant it, I mean it, everything I say to you. So much, Melissa." You dart a look up to make sure she understands. "I mean, it's easy for me... For other people, I can express..."

Her hand finds yours on the table and stills it. Her manicured finger gently swipes along the curve below your thumb, down to the sensitive inner skin of your wrist, and traces slowly there, back and forth. She's giving you that look again, gentle and focused and intimate. "I get it," she says simply.

A rush of relief fills you, settling the rattle of your anxious nerves. You turn your hand over and hers settles into yours.

The server appears for your drink orders. You order the house sake, and Melissa says, "Yeah, me too." With your small glasses of sake, the two of you pore over the menu, picking a few things Melissa knows, a few things she's never had before.

The first few plates come out: shumai, hamachi, a bowl of spicy pickle. She gets pieces of toro, unagi, and salmon, and you get a roll and a plate of chashu buns. She gives those a look of pure lust.

"Take one," you say, and push the plate toward her.

She doesn't hesitate. At her first bite, she lets out a guttural moan that goes right between your thighs. You're suddenly much more aware of her ankle still caught between both of your own.

"You think I could get this recipe?" she says of the chashu after the bun has vanished.

"I think you can get whatever you want." Especially from you, especially if she keeps making those noises.

"I sure can," she says with a flirtatious bat of her eyelashes.

You've seen Melissa eat before, scraping the last bite of salad out of a tupperware or sipping from a Stanley Tucci mug, but it's different like this, sharing a meal. You love watching her small, plump hands with her chopsticks, her drinks; you love her expressive eyes, the way they widen or flutter shut at a perfect bite. Everything she tries she makes you try—insistent, "Here, you taste," like you're not the one who's had the whole menu before, and you oblige, trying to taste it for the first time, like her, letting each one blossom over your tongue, letting yourself fall under her spell.

The bar is packed by the time you're through and she's nibbled her way through a couple of frozen mochi. "We gotta come back here," she declares as the two of you leave, hand in hand. "I wanna try more. You got good taste."

"Yeah, I do," you say, looking at her. It's full dark now, but the streetlights and the moon illuminate her, outlining her red hair in silver, the shape of her hips.

"You gonna take me home now?" she says. She moves closer. "You made a lotta promises, you know."

"I know." Your hands settle on her hips. She tilts her head up; you catch her lips, tasting the plum wine you two shared. It's your first real kiss of the night, and she's mellow, soft, delicious. Still, you tell her, "We don't have to, tonight. I want to, but I don't want you to think..."

"I know," she says, and gives you another kiss. "If I thought you were buyin' dinner to make me put out, I would'a had way more food." Another kiss. "Come on, let's go. Or maybe you don't wanna get lucky?"

You drive back to Melissa's place, her hand on your thigh the whole way. Back over the welcome mat that reads GO AWAY, into the picture-lined place where it all started over a glass of wine.

Melissa takes your coat and her own and gives you her back, hanging them up in a closet by the front door. "I can get you another drink," she's saying, but all you can see is the back of her dress: the silver line of the zipper running from collar to hem, almost invisible.

You move closer and she stiffens when she feels you there, your chest to her back. You gather her hair, move it aside. Above the collar of the dress you can see the line of her nape and the muscle where her neck and her shoulder join. You lean down and kiss it.

Breathing in, you can smell her perfume again, her makeup again. Now, her skin. It's a scent you couldn't begin to describe, something living and animal and sensuous. And her hair: warm, intimate, a little bit of hairspray. You kiss the side of her neck.

"You have no idea," you say quietly. You nose against the shell of her ear. Its soft cartilage is cold from the night air outside, but warming quickly, flushing pink as you kiss it. "You have no idea how gorgeous you are. You don't know what you've been doing to me."

You lift your hands and find the tongue of the zipper. Her breath hitches. You slowly draw it down. The rasp of it is loud between your bodies.

The band of her bra. Red lace. Down her back to the luscious curvature of her hips. You're holding your breath. Her panties are red lace, too, a high-waisted thong that hugs her belly and hips but, oh, fuck: leaves her ass almost totally fucking bare. Of course, in that clinging dress. Couldn't risk panty lines.

"Jesus fucking Christ," you say, and slide the dress fully off her body. It's a puddle of red fabric on the floor. You push her chest-first against the closet door and drop to your knees.

"Oh my God," she says weakly as you hold her hips and kiss your way up the back of one thigh, then the other. The flesh here is dimpled with cellulite, a mark of her perfect abundance. You nose over the curve of her ass and bite one cheek and she squeaks and gives a weak, "Huh," afterward, like she'd surprised herself, and you bite the other cheek and her hips rock back into you.

She's still in her heels. You're starting to smell her sex. You think about having her bend over and put her hands against the door and let you eat her from behind until her knees shake and give out. Fuck, you want to, but you've been making promises; you have plans.

You straighten back up, brushing kisses up the line of her spine. "I want to see your bedroom."

"Fuck," she says dizzily. "Okay. Uh..." She starts to step away from the closet door and for the first time all night, she wobbles in her heels. She gives a little growl of frustration that's so Melissa you can't help but laugh, making her glower your way as she toes out of the shoes.

She leads you up to her bedroom. The big bed is made, but there are plenty of signs of life: the vanity against one wall, scattered with makeup; the bedside table with a dog-eared book and a pair of her glasses; there's a bra tossed over the cracked closet door.

She turns to face you, unself-conscious, and grabs you for another kiss, deep, dirty, her tongue licking into your mouth. "Can't believe you wore my favorite color," she says breathlessly, and starts fumbling with the buttons of your shirt. "God, you look so hot."

Your shirt's halfway open when you get your mouth on her neck. She groans, hands loosening on the fabric. Soft, right along the line of her jaw, under her chin, down her throat where you feel a moan vibrate through the skin. "Harder," she says.

You stay soft. The hollow of her throat, her clavicle. You nose one strap of her bra. She whines, "Harder," and grips your hair.

"I told you," you say. "I'm going to make you beg." She gasps. Your cunt pulses. You wonder if the same thing happened in her classroom that day, if she sat at her desk squirming, little hitches of her breath betraying her.

You squeeze her ass and she sways into you. Your hands shape her hips, up her sides, over her back, feeling the landscape of it, the valley of her spine. You trace the band of her bra. It's so pretty, you almost don't want to take it off.

"Where's your vibrator?" you ask.

"Huh?"

"Your vibrator," you patiently repeat, and lean back. You see in her eyes when it clicks. She leans away from you toward the nightstand, pulling open the top drawer. Inside, there's a pack of melatonin gummies, a lavender and chamomile room spray, a mini bottle of Jack Daniels, and a hot pink wand vibrator. Her sleep aid drawer, you realize.

You pick up the toy. It has a good weight, and the silicone is almost as soft as her skin. You find the power button, click it on, and cycle with a few presses through the three strength settings. You settle back on the first one and test it against the inside of your wrist, feeling the rumble against the sensitive skin there.

You look up again and Melissa's sitting on the edge of the bed. She's breathing hard, staring at you, and she's blushing.

"Lay back against the pillows for me, baby."

She scoots back, gives you a challenging look, and spreads her legs. You can really smell her, a thick, rich, saline scent that makes your mouth water. The drawer's still open and you spot a small bottle of lube; you take it out just in case, then slide the drawer shut.

"You gonna get naked?" she says as you join her on the bed.

"Not yet," you say and kiss her again. And again. The vibrator sits on the mattress, turned off, and you want to make her forget it's there. You take your time, licking at the serrated edge of her teeth, sucking on her lower lip until she's whimpering.

You couldn't have imagined that sound coming from Melissa Schemmenti. You chase it, have to have it again. Her lipstick is smeared, almost gone. She keeps tugging on your hair as you kiss her, starting to squirm beneath you, saying things like "More," and "Harder," but not please—not yet.

She slides down against the pillows, laying herself more fully under your body, and the motion makes the vibrator roll down the mattress to bump her side. Her breath speeds up all over again, and her eyes flick from it to you.

You pick up the toy and click it on. "Keep your legs spread."

"Oh, fuck yes," Melissa says, then whines aloud when you touch the vibrator not to her clothed pussy, but to the inner crease of her thigh. "Fuck, c'mon."

"C'mon, what?" You trail the vibrator up the inside of her thigh, toward her knee, and back down again.

"You know—" her breath stutters when you switch legs. "You know what I want."

"And you know what I want."

That makes her moan. Her head drops back, her chest heaving. You lean down to kiss her sternum, to finally nose against one perfect breast, the way you've hungered for it since that photo. The lace of her bra scratches your cheek. You can feel her nipple through the cup, taut against the fabric. You bring the vibrator up and tease its rumbling head over that peak, making her shudder, then replace it with your mouth, letting her feel the heat and wet, just barely, still separated from you by her bra.

"God, fuck," she says, "fuck you," and you switch breasts, teasing her other nipple to aching stiffness. You nuzzle the skin that her bra offers up, the plump perfect roundness of her breast, part your lips, drag your teeth over it. She's so soft here, so much, and it's perfect. Your hand drops with the vibrator and you trace it over her hip toward her sex, making her squirm, as you busy yourself with soft bites and sucks.

You change your angle a little, propping a hand against the pillows so you can lean over her. Your body casts a shadow and her green eyes look up at you from beneath it, somehow both pleading and mutinous. You idle the vibrator back up along the waistband of her underwear and then slowly down toward her cunt, playing it over the plumpness of her mons.

"Fuck," she says, "fucking fuck you, okay, please," and you smile. "Please, I said please, will you fucking please—"

You bring the wand down over her pussy. Her head rolls back and she groans, starting to squirm. "Pull down your bra for me," you say.

"What?" Her voice, face, are foggy and vague, but after a few seconds she understands, lifting her hands to tug down the bra's cups, showing you her perfect breasts. They're begging for your mouth, and you promised her you'd give her what she wanted when she begged, didn't you?

You drop your head. Kiss over one breast, then the other. Mouth at the flesh—so fucking soft, so good against your lips, sucked into the wetness of your mouth. The tops of her breasts have a small scattering of freckles that you have to dust in turn with adoring kisses. Her hard nipple brushes your cheek and you draw it past your lips as you trace the wand vibrator up and down, from her clit to the entrance of her cunt, back again, never letting it linger.

You switch to her other nipple, leaving her breast damp and reddened from your mouth. Her head tosses back and forth against the pillows as she whines, squirms, moans, says, "Fuck," and, voice breaking a little, "You're still fuckin' teasin' me—please, please, I said it, please—"

The words, her need, are electricity surging straight to your aching clit. Your voice is a rasp to match her own when you lift your head and breathe in her ear, "You sound so good like this, Melissa." She gives a broken whimper. "You're so perfect. I'll give you more. I promise. I'll take care of you. Take your panties off for me, sweetheart."

With a grateful sob she lifts her hips and shoves her underwear down her thighs, no further. You flash on that fantasy you had of her, getting off after a school day, slacks and panties around her knees as she fucked herself. Looks like you were right.

"You might need," she starts to say, but you're already reaching across to pick up the bottle of lube. You click off the vibrator and let her watch you drip the lube over your fingers, slicking them up. She's panting harder and harder just watching you.

With your other hand freed from the vibrator, you can pull the thong all the way off her legs, leaning back on your knees to do it. You push one thigh then the other wide apart. Her pussy is plump and gorgeous, red and swollen, her own wetness gleaming from between her spread labia. You add to it: the softest touch of your fingertips against her sex, trailing up and around the peak of her clit, not touching it directly.

She makes a noise you can barely describe, a groan of misery and arousal and desperation. Sliding your fingers back down toward the heat of her cunt, slipping one slowly inside, watching her as you do it. Her eyelashes flutter, her lips parting. Once you're sure she's wet enough, you add a second finger. The lube and her own gathering wetness makes a slick, dirty sound as you begin to stroke inside her, all delicacy, all torment.

"Oh, fuck," she says, "don't stop, Jesus Christ, please, don't stop, I need it, I, I..." Now she's babbling, the way she's made you do, one hand fisted in the bed covers, the other grabbing your wrist. "I need it so bad, I need you to fuck me, I've been waitin', please..."

"You've been waiting?" It occurs to you that this version of Melissa, already begging, might be willing to tell you some embarrassing truths. "How long?"

"Since we met," she gasps. "Since—oh, fuck..."

Since you met? That was the very first day of shooting—getting all the establishing shots, the very first moments and interviews. She intimidated you—her and Barbara both did—but Barbara, at least, gave a little, showed a bit of herself to the camera. You remember how Melissa was, arms folded over her chest, cool and hostile with Pedro as he tried to coax her out, get her to introduce herself.

Her eyes had moved from him to you, looking past the camera. "You Sicilian?" she'd asked you. She smiled at you that day and it transformed her sullen, cagey face, turned her, however momentarily, sweet. "Italian?" she'd continued, then her eyes darted from you to Pedro, over to the boom mic guy, trying to get a read on all of you. "You from South?" Her smile vanished. Her voice tightened up again: "Okay, you guys workin' with the cops? 'Cause you gotta tell me."

You reward her for the honesty with a press of your palm against her clit. Her hips jerk up. "I remember that day."

Her head drops back again, her eyes squeezing shut. The words leave her in a breathless rush: "You were so cute'n I hated the cameras but whenever you were there I would just—and you were always so, you were gentle, and—I always knew when you were lookin' at me—"

"I was looking at you every chance I got." You watch her face as you begin to ease a third finger inside her. This one has to burn a little; you can feel her body, resistant at first, starting to stretch to take it, and you don't push; you wait to see her eyes open again, their needy, yielding look. She lets go of the covers to grab one leg under her knee and pull it wider apart to help you. You add a little more lube, just in case, not wanting to hurt her.

"I was always looking at you, Melissa." She stares up at you. There's a crease between her brows, her swollen lips parted; she looks stunned, overwhelmed, face pink, as you slide that third finger inside her.

"I was always looking at you," you repeat, and begin to gently fuck her. Her cunt opens for you and desperately clenches against your fingers, grasping and irregular, trying to keep you. "You're so beautiful. I always wanted you. I thought you were the sexiest, meanest—" that surprises a panting laugh from her—"woman I'd ever seen. You were so smart, so funny—you protected everyone, and you took care of everybody—" her eyes squeeze shut. "Let me take care of you now."

You reach over and pick up the vibrator. You click it on. Her eyes open again at the sound of its buzz. You press the button again, then a third time, bringing it to its strongest setting. Melissa's eyes are huge. She's panting, staring, knowing what you're about to do, and the look of vulnerability and desire on her face, her smeared lipstick, her messy hair, she's perfect, so perfect, and you need to make her come now.

"I need it," you tell her, holding her gaze. "I need it. Let me feel it, Melissa." You bring the vibrator to her swollen, begging clit.

A moment of nothing but her breath caught in her chest and her wide-eyed gaze on yours. Her pussy clamps down around your fingers and you feel the ripples of her orgasm start before she drops her head back and gives a wounded, animal cry.

You chase the waves of her climax, fucking her through them, coaxing them toward you; you rub the head of the vibrator along her slippery clit. Her head tosses back and forth on the pillow like it's too much, but her hand still grasps your wrist, keeping you right where you are, and her hips are working, riding your fingers.

"I can't," she starts saying when she can heave a breath back into her lungs, "I can't, I can't, oh, please—" you click the vibrator off and throw it aside; it nearly rolls off the mattress. You spread the lips of her pussy wide and you lean down and bite one shaking thigh, then the other, then seal your lips over her swollen, tender clit.

Fuck the vibrator: this is your new favorite toy. You play with it and play with it and Melissa comes again, or keeps coming, you're not sure which. One leg goes over your shoulder and her hips twitch and writhe until you have to hold her down.

"Oh my G—oh my God, oh, baby," then, just chanting over and over again, like you could ever tell her no again, like you can deny her anything in the world: "Please, please, please..."

Anything she wants. The whole fucking world, if it were yours to give. You suck and lick at her cunt as her hands find your hair and yank.

How long can she go for? How many times can you make her come? You want to know. You want to fuck her until she faints. But that's not for tonight—not without planning, not without her consent—so when she starts making airy noises that are weak and almost pained, you ease off, slowing your mouth and fingers, letting her come down.

You rub her hips and thighs and her soft belly, and give light kisses to the mound of her pubis. She stops pulling on your hair, grip going slack at first; then, as she comes back into herself by slow degrees, she scratches her nails gently against your scalp.

Kisses for her stomach, her ribs. "Here, baby," you whisper, and reach under her body; she lifts up so you can unhook her bra, sticky fingers brushing her skin. You ease it off and drop it to wherever her panties went. She's nude under you now, flushed all over, body loose and relaxed against the mattress; you pet every inch of her you can reach.

You cup her cheek. Her head turns into the contact. There's sweat gleaming along her hairline and her upper lip. Her eyes, mascara and liner blurred, open to meet yours; her gaze is bleary at first, then sharpens.

You expect another fuck-you, or a joke, or even a "thanks, I needed that," but what she says is, "Now you sit on my face."

Your mind whites out. It's possible you forget the English language for a second or two. When you're back from wherever your soul departed to, she's pulling on the buttons of your shirt, brow knit and wearing an impatient little scowl, yanking the last ones open. "What?" you say weakly.

"I said," Melissa says, fully herself again, no longer the begging, needy, squirming creature of minutes ago, "now you sit on my face. C'mon. Get this off." She grabs the buckle of your belt and works the tongue out of it with a metallic clink.

"I," you say, "I," and she drags your trousers down your legs. You have to lean back off her to get them and your underwear all the way off. Your shirt still hangs open, showing your bra, your bare stomach. She leans up to kiss your sternum with an open mouth, tongue flickering hot against your skin.

"I told you," she growls against your neck, "to sit on my fuckin' face," and there's no more of anything in your world but her, you scrambling up onto your knees, spread wide, her sliding down the bed to get under your cunt.

You falter for a moment; she grabs your hips and yanks you down. There's no playing, no teasing. She drags the flat of her tongue up the folds of your pussy and takes your clit into her mouth and sucks. Her green eyes are open and staring up at you and you see your own dazed pleasure reflected in them.

It takes about five embarrassing seconds before you come in her mouth. She moans loudly against you and tries to hold you where you are, but your legs are shaking badly; imagine if you broke her nose the first night, God—you lift one knee so you can get off of her and drop onto your back.

She follows you. Clambers on top of you intently but unsteadily, still wobbling from her own orgasms, and kisses sloppily down your stomach to get back to your pussy.

"Melissa—" you're gasping, and she's putting her tongue inside you, angling her head to get it in as far as she can. She licks, sucks, wraps her arms around your hips and holds you against her as you try to buck away. The wet noises of her mouth against your cunt are obscene.

You come again, and maybe one more time, you're not sure; your mind blanks again. When you can think, feel, process again, she's giving little kitten licks to your sensitive sex that send shudders up your whole body.

"Okay," you say. Your throat hurts a little—how much noise were you making? You clear it. "Okay. You win." You tap out on the mattress like a boxer. She's wearing a look of supreme satisfaction as she lets you go, her face covered in slick wetness, her makeup a disaster, her hair a messy tangle. She's so beautiful. Your heart does a now-familiar backflip.

She crawls up your body and flops onto her side next to you, curling onto your chest. There's long minutes of just you two breathing, the sound filling the room, a tingling starting in your pussy that you know is the herald of after-sex soreness, her damp fingertips tracing idly on your skin.

You start to smooth out her hair. It'll take a shower and a comb to really fix—maybe you'll suggest it. You trail your fingers down and follow the freckled curve of her shoulder, the roll of flesh on her side along her ribs, the dip of her waist before it opens onto the perfect field of her hips and ass.

Her eyes flick up to yours. They're softer and happier than you've ever seen them; the look on her face is gentle and content. You bring your questing hand up to cup her cheek. She kisses your thumb.

"I'm hungry again," she declares.

A laugh bursts out of you, full of affection. "What?" she says, clearly about to be offended, but before she can go any further, you pull her fully into your arms, wrap around her and squeeze.

You press your face into her neck and inhale, smelling her sweat and skin and sex. "You're perfect for me," you say into that warm curve, muffled against her skin. "You're just perfect." You peck a kiss onto her jaw and lean back to touch her cheek again. "Should we make something? Do you want pasta?"

She grins at you. It's that big, Cheshire smile you saw on her face a few days ago, telling Barbara about how she shot her shot, full of preening satisfaction. She leans in and brushes your nose with hers.

"I knew I picked right," she says, simply, happily. She laces her fingers with yours. "Come on, I got a robe you could wear. You like carbonara?"

She leads you off the rumpled bed. You can see you've left a blurry pink bite mark on one cheek of her perfect ass. She brings you a fuzzy shortie robe ("I like your legs, baby, lemme see 'em") and puts on a silk one herself, and takes your hand again as she opens the bedroom door.

You feel good. You're happy. You realize as she brings you to the kitchen, to the very heart of her home, that you're not alone anymore.

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

Author's Note:

I received the following prompt from an anonymous reader on Tumblr:

"can you write some fluffy smut for Mel x reader where everyone thinks Mel would be in charge in the bedroom because she’s so tough and reader is so shy. but actually reader takes care of Mel."

Back when Season 2 was airing, I saw a few fan posts saying that Lisa Ann had suggested there was a cameraperson on the crew that Melissa thought was cute, which led to the rare scenes where Melissa opens up to the camera. I'm not sure if this is accurate to what she said, but that idea has stuck with me. When I received the above prompt, it went into a blender with that thought, and this is the smoothie that resulted.

I hope I've done justice to this lovely prompt!

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti #as an FYI: this is my longest fic yet and may be easiest to read on AO3 :)

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countingdots-tc · 4 months

Text

TEACHER/STUDENT BOOK RECS

*if you want me to add a forbidden romance list, let me know*

𓃠 This is a list with links to books that have teacher/student, age gap, and experienced/less experienced themes that I have read! These are in order from most recommended to least recommended based on my opinion.

𓃠 This will be updated as I read more! Think something should be added to the list, then let me know!

𓃠 To find the Age Gap/TeacherxStudent Movie list, click on the link on my pinned post!

⭐️= highly recommend/changed my life

😇= no smut

🌶️=contains smut

💦=read to really get your rocks off

highlighted=warning

PROFESSOR/COACH BOOK LIST

The Unrequited by Saffron A. Kent-⭐️😇

ProfessorxStudent & mental health themes

Cute little poet embarrassingly falls for her grumpy professor. Beautiful slow burn and perfectly describes what it feels like to want someone and not feel enough for them. She is such a realistic female lead and reminds me a lot of y’all 😂. This is THE teacher crush community book. If you don’t read anything read this!!

The Professor by Invi Wright-⭐️🌶️

ProfessorxStudent

Cute romance by young, new, and self published author. Very relatable female lead. If you enjoyed The Unrequited, you will like this book for all of the same reasons. Quick and easy read, only 240. She isn’t perfect, she clumsy, and I wouldn’t even say she’s socially awkward, she just a normal college student in her early 20s. She’s a fun narrator. This author has a lot of potential and her writing will only get better.

Gabriel’s Inferno by Slyvain Reynard-⭐️😇

ProfessorxStudent

Such a good dark academia book. Beautifully written and actually has a movie adaptation. I would definitely recommend this if you want a realistic couple but a bit more serious. Characters have so much depth

Off Balance Series by Lucia Franco- 💦

CoachxStudent

Warning: female lead is age of consent NOT legal age.

If you want something really forbidden and fucked up, read this. If you want the MOST insane sex scenes, read this (MINORS STOP). I really don’t even want to add this series to this list but for the girls who wanna go there, have fun. I started this when I was still in high school, read the 3rd one as an adult, it’s not as easy to read now. Take that info as you please

Lessons In Sin by Pam Goodwin-🌶️

TeacherxStudent with 18 Y.O female lead

Troubled rich girl gets sent off to a catholic boarding school and falls for the asshole Dean of the school. Smut is pretty good, plot works. I’m not going to say it’s bad, I think whether or not it’s enjoyable depends on the person. It wasn’t bad, I just wasn’t obsessed. If you’re just trying to live vicariously through her (aren’t we all), then it works!

Teach Me by L. L. Ash-🌶️

ProfessorxStudent

Really good start, and I do mean GREAT start… I just feel like the sex scene came too soon (Ch. 9/32) and it threw me off but I also like SUPER slow burns. It’s still a good book. I enjoyed the male love interest, Professor Harlo. They’re cute together. Grump and Sunshine.

Dark Notes by Pam Goodwin-

TeacherxStudent & themes of abuse

Probably DNF-ing

AGE GAP BOOK LIST

Something In The Way Series by Jessica Hawkins-⭐️😇

Sister’s Boyfriend/Husband & “I saw him first”

Most beautiful romance series I’ve ever read, best written books by Jessica Hawkins. I recommend all of her other books. Lake is 16 when she first meets Manning but nothing sexual happens between them for another 3 books until she’s in her 20s. Beautiful slow burn with characters full of depth.

Sinner by Sierra Simone- ⭐️💦

Brother’s Best Friend & religious themes

Amazing character creation and mapping. These characters feel real! This book is about “teaching” a girl about sex before she becomes a nun. It’s not just a bang bang, hump hump book. It has heart and it really good. If you enjoy religious themed romance, you may enjoy Priest by Sierra Simone too. I didn’t 💀

Birthday Girl by Penelope Douglas- 💦

Ex’s Dad

Most popular forbidden romance so whatever you’ve heard about it, dump it. This might be the most tame book on this list. Pacing is good, well written main character. Insane amounts of smut but it doesn’t drive the story forward so feel free to skip it if you get tired.

Love Unexpected by Q. B. Tyler- 💦

Ex Stepdad & parent death

This book is HOT! However after the first few scenes, I got a bit tired of the smut. Well written enough female lead with a rushed ending. However if you just need something to read and not despise it, it’s good enough.

Strictly Off Limits by Jessica Hawkins-🌶️

Dad’s Best Friend

Jessica is my favorite author so I’m a bit biased but she definitely isn’t a smut writer. This novella would’ve been better without smut however it isn’t super present and doesn’t really drive the story forward so don’t feel like you’re missing anything if you skip the smut!

The Doctor by Nikki Sloane- 💦

Ex’s Dad

personally didn’t care for this book, smut starts off way too quick and I’m more of a slow burn girl. It is a novella however, it was still too quick. However! You may love it <3

𓃠 If I’m not reading fast enough for you and you want to see what I will be reading in the future here is my Amazon TBR, have at it!

𓃠 If you want to see a more organized bookshelf of what I’ve read, here is my Goodreads!

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moonstruckme · 4 months

Note

Worried/gentle Pre relationship Sirius x reader who’s having a panic attack (his first time seeing her have one)

Thanks for requesting!

cw: panic attack

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

Sirius is no amateur concert-goer. He knows how to hunt for the best tickets, how to smuggle in drinks, and how to get there early enough that he gets right up by the stage. Since it’s your first real concert (you argued that you’ve seen musicians play at restaurants and parks and the like, which Sirius informed you doesn’t count), he’s pulling out all the stops.

“Alright, doll, we’ve got one bottle of water and one of vodka. Newbie’s choice.”

“You can stop hammering in the newbie thing so hard, you know,” you say, reaching for the vodka. Your eyes flicker between the people starting to gather around you as they filter into the venue. “I don’t want to be ostracized by everyone here.”

Sirius grins. “I’ll vouch for you, don’t worry.”

You mirror his smile wryly, taking a covert swig from the bottle. “Won’t someone take this away from us?”

“No,” he says, “right now everyone who works here is too focused on getting people inside, and soon it’ll be too packed to see us anyway.”

You press your lips together as you nod, taking another hearty sip of the vodka.

As if he hasn’t already been doing it all week, Sirius launches into a biography of the band you’re seeing. How they’d gotten started, when they’d been discovered, how he’d first discovered them (the true beginning of their fame, really), etc, etc. At first, you’re smiling and chiming in as he talks, but gradually he notices you becoming less responsive. You seem distracted. Must be the atmosphere, he reasons. There’s an exhilarating buzz going through the crowd, which Sirius is pleased to note comprises a rather impressive turnout for a band that’s just getting their start. With the colored lights the venue’s management turned on after everyone had been let inside, it’s difficult to make out distinct faces in the sea of bobbing heads. Sirius would hardly know it was you next to him if you hadn’t linked your arm through his the first time someone had cut between you two, as though worried he’d get swept away if you didn’t hold on tight. He hardly minds; if things were different between you, he doubts you’d ever be able to extricate his hand from your back pocket.

“You with me, dollface?” he asks when you don’t seem to notice he’s asked you a question. He’d asked if you wanted to try to find an after-party, though he knows you well enough to suspect you’ll be ready to collapse into bed by the time the concert itself is finished.

“Hm?” You look at him, the sparkly eyeshadow you’d asked him to put on you glinting as you blink. Your pupils look huge. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry.”

Sirius starts to nod, but then someone behind you shoulders you accidentally and you jolt like you’ve been shot.

He eyes you warily. “You sure? You look a bit warm.”

It’s an understatement. Your features gleam with sweat under the colored lights. The crowd does make it a bit balmy inside, but your face is as flushed as if you’ve run a mile.

“I’m okay,” you say, though you won’t look at him. You take a breath as if to steady yourself, untangling your arm from his to press a hand to your chest.

Sirius touches your shoulder tentatively. It’s hot and slick under his hand. “Sweetheart, you’re shaking,” he says, panic creeping up his throat. This is all a bit too familiar. “Do you need some air?”

You suck in a breath, the action sounding more effortful than it should. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” you pant. “Yeah, I think—yeah.”

Sirius glances around, taking a millisecond to mourn your prime spot before plotting a course through the crowd. He makes you hold his hand as he shoulders his way through, keeping you close behind him. It’s frightening how he can hear the sound of your gasping breaths even over the eager ruckus of the crowd.

He gets you through as quickly as he can, beelining for the exit. “You’re alright,” he tells you as you both break out into the crisp night air. It takes all the self-control he has to keep his own anxiety from his voice, but he does his best to sound gentle and calm. “We’re going to find you a place to sit down.”

He guides you over to the side of the building, mostly out of sight of traffic going in and out the doors, and sits you down on some grass. You fold your knees into your chest instantly, the position obviously familiar, and press your forehead to your knees.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Sirius murmurs, crouching beside you and rubbing your back. Smooth, slow passes up and down your spine. “I’m not going to leave you. Just breathe, doll.”

You seem like you’re really trying, forcing slow if stilted breaths through your mouth. He gathers the hair off your nape, using a ponytail from his wrist to tie it loosely over your head. The cool air seems to be helping somewhat. Your ears and neck are less flushed, but you’re still shaking something terrible. He redoubles his efforts on your back, pushing his palm into your spine in a way he hopes is soothing.

“I’m sorry,” you gasp into the space between your knees and your abdomen.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it, please,” Sirius begs you. “Are you cold? Do you want my jacket?”

You shake your head.

“Anything I can do?”

You blow out a breath. Shaky, but more substantial than the rest. “Can I have the water?”

“Yeah, of course.” Sirius’ own hands tremble slightly as he untwists the cap, passing it to you. You bring your head up to drink it, taking brief, measured sips. Your makeup is all smeared underneath your eyes.

“Thank you,” you manage once you’re done. Sirius gets the impression you mean for more than the water.

“Don’t mention it.” He takes the bottle from you, hand resuming its path on your spine. You tuck your head back into your legs. “Take your time, love, we’re not in any rush.”

Slowly, over the course of the next few minutes, your breathing evens out. Some of the tension leaves your body, your posture slumped and miserable as goosebumps appear along your arms. Sirius drapes his jacket over you, continuing to rub your back through the thick material.

Finally, you lift your head.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is tight, a tear slipping down your face. Sirius’ heart revolts, batting against his ribs like a frantic bird in a cage.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says, doing his best to keep the desperation out of his voice as scoots closer to your side. He brushes the wetness away with his thumb. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, sweetness.”

“No, I know crowds do this to me, and I didn’t even warn you, I just—” Your face scrunches, as if you’re endeavoring to keep some great pain at bay. “I wanted to do this for you.”

Suddenly he’s the one with no air. Guilt chokes him, hot and thick in his throat. “You didn’t have to do anything for me, dollface. I mean, I appreciate it,” he gives you one of his best smiles, rewarded when your eyes crinkle slightly in response, “but I never want you to put yourself through anything like this for me. I’m happy when you’re happy, understand?”

You nod, eyebrows stitched together remorsefully. Sirius wants to kiss between them, then all up and down your face until not a hint of melancholy remains, but in lieu of that he tucks a piece of hair that had escaped his earlier capture behind your ear, thumbing affectionately at your cheek.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” you say meekly.

“That’s okay,” he promises you. “My brother Reggie used to get panic attacks too, when he was younger. I have a bit of practice with them.”

Sirius doesn’t think it matters how much practice he gets; he’ll always be shit at comforting people, but at least he knows enough to guess what you’ll need now.

You look at him interestedly. “Really?”

“Mhm,” he says. “Are you tired? We can go back to my place and watch a movie. Or if you just want to go to bed I can take you home.”

“Your place is good,” you say, letting him take your hand to help you up. Your legs wobble a bit underneath you, and Sirius wraps a hand around your waist, holding you to his side as you start back towards the sidewalk.

“This okay?” he asks, watching you carefully.

“Yeah,” you say softly. Your hand worms underneath his arm, sliding around his back in turn. “Yeah, this is good.”

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jxsterr · 5 months

Text

back at it again but this time i’m worked up thinking about zelink and sleeping as a way to deal with all of the trauma of immediate post calamity.

because, realistically, they are both going to be beyond exhausted. that fight took everything they had within them and more—link had been preparing for it for months on end without so much as a proper night’s rest, and zelda had been slaving away for the better part of a century using every ounce of energy within her to keep this beast at bay. so it’s pretty reasonable that the first thing the pair of them are going to yearn for is a bed and some damn good sleep now that blood moons won’t be knocking on the window every few days.

but just hear me out. for the first couple of days going on weeks link’s only priority is making sure zelda is okay. he cooks for her, makes sure she’s drunk enough water, and keeps the bedsheets clean and comfortable for her to collapse into them whenever she wants. she’s essentially bedbound for the first week, only ever able to really sit up to eat for a bit before the waves of exhaustion call for her to come crashing back down against her pillow—whether or not she wants to. she’s in no fit state to do anything, bless her, and he recognises that. he’s exhausted beyond reason himself but someone has to be the one sat beside her bed, ready to soothe the night terrors that inevitably creep their way into her unsuspecting mind. he doesn’t really care either. the woman who has haunted everything he’s come across in this world, whose presence has touched almost every memory he can conjure up, whose spirit he just can’t seem to shake because he knows there’s something there, a reason as to why he can’t help but heed her call no matter what he does, has just returned to him. the only surviving remnant of his past, the only face he so desperately wanted to see smile again for reasons he couldn’t dig up—of course nursing her back to health is his first priority.

but she worries about him too, about her knight turned friend who just won’t stop doing things for her despite the fact that she can see the very consequences of his fatigue etched deep into his skin. she wants so desperately for him to stop for a moment and sit with her and let her do something in amongst it all. he’s so much lighter than he used to be before he died but by hylia herself has he not shed the skin of a warrior. he laughs more, talks with a little less restraint, and pulls out all sorts of ridiculous things he’s accrued across his travels for her to marvel at while sat up in bed—all for shadows to have set so deeply under his eyes and his face to have lost a little bit of that roundness she’d grown so fond of. she can see how much he needs to sleep too, to rejuvenate again even though he would simply argue that all he’s done is sleep. she sees it when she peers over the loft banister and finds him, face against arms, asleep at the kitchen table, or when she wakes up and realises he’s fallen asleep sat on the floor with his head against the mattress again and all she can do is feel guilt that she has his bed and not him.

so one day she has enough. she waits until she’s settled into bed with him on a stool at her side, book in hand, otherwise he’ll fall asleep himself, and she plucks it unceremoniously from his hands and discards it on the bedside table. she waits until he looks at her thoroughly bewildered for her to finally muster up the courage to say, “i need you to sleep, link. i see how exhausted you are, i see how much you push yourself. i feel awful for being the only one in this bed, so please, do me a favour, and sleep beside me,” and stares at him with enough conviction to move mountains that her own eventually concedes and climbs in next to her.

it’s nothing more than two bodies sleeping next to one another for the first few days, but it’s enough that it makes a visible impact on the pair of them. zelda sleeps better, more soundly, with a considerable dip in the number of night terrors, while link himself finally just sleeps for the first time in what feels like years. it does them wonders. so much so, in fact, they sleep away the first two days entirely. link wakes up, groggy, and turns over with the intention of getting out of bed because goddess knows what time it is and she probably needs something to eat—but a sleep-ridden hand moves quick enough to land on his shoulder with something mumbled about ‘don’t leave’ and it’s so sincere and desperate that he gives in and turns back over, only for said hand to only still once it nestles itself against the palm of his hand. he’s too drowsy to even think much of it so he just curls his hand around hers in return until that signature hum of hers rings out to signify that her wants have been quelled.

it continues like that, small increases in physical affection, until it’s the norm to absolutely entangle themselves in one another. until zelda is able to do more around the house but potters down the loft stairs in search of him to tug gently at his arm and tell him that she’s tired—a silent ask to come to bed with her even if it’s the middle of the day—and he obliges every time. it’s nice, being this useless to the world, enough where they can gather as much of themselves as they need to by merely sleeping the days away. until their mornings are signified by the raise of the moon and the slow bleed of pinks and oranges into the sky signalling their retreat to bed.

every nap goes the same, too. zelda scoots herself into the inner side of the bed and lays with arms outstretched, waiting for her knight to come clambering in between them so she may wrap them tightly around his warm body and pull him close until his face is nestled deeply into her chest, protecting him the way she’s always wanted to. she may not be able to wield a sword, but she can protect his open heart for as long as her hand weaves through his locks until she feels his body go slack against her. she likes her corner, he likes the safety of her arms, it works perfectly.

impa doesn’t appreciate just how long it’s taken them to realise they’ve been sleeping away the days for over a month now, and thus are visiting late, but it’s hard to object when her princess is sparkling and link looks more like himself than he ever has.

#zelink analysis #long post my bad #hello im back again with the sickness #this time its trauma coping flavoured #zelda x link #legend of zelda #tears of the kingdom #loz link #link #loz zelda #zelda and link #princess zelda #zelink #zelda tears of the kingdom #botw totk #breath of the wild

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pe0ple3ater · 4 months

Text

I'm cooking, I can't stop thinking about the three of them. I could keep going to be fair, I have about 600 more words written of this..

Tazercraft/Fit freaky link sex. Save me..save me.

If you asked Mike normally, he’d say that his link with Pac was the best thing that’s ever happened to either of them. Hard to feel lonely when someone’s thoughts, feelings, and sensations are just a thought away. Difficult to let anger simmer and burn away any feelings when it’s balanced by someone else's sadness and overflow of emotions.

Right now, though, Mike has never wished the link would go away more.

He takes off his glasses and runs his hand down his face, sighing softly and shivering yet again at the phantom feeling of hands on his body. He breathes slowly and tries his hardest to block out Pac’s physical feelings while still keeping a close eye on his emotions, ready to take over at the first sign of discomfort. Pac’s never been good at speaking up for himself, so Mike normally tries to stick around and make sure he’s okay. Especially now, especially with a new partner.

The difference between right now and every other time Pac’s had sex is that Pac is not trying at all to block the physical sensations leaking through. It actually seems like he's pushing them more onto Mike. Normally, his focus is split between keeping Mike away from that and enjoying the moment. Right now, though, it seems that he can’t be bothered.

Pac

It feels good doesn’t it Mikey?

Yes now can you please stop, I’m trying to get things done

Pac doesn’t respond, and the feelings don’t lessen at all. Mike breathes sharply at the feeling of fingers clumsily exploring a cunt that Mike doesn't have. It's a weird feeling, a phantom wetness between his legs. He can feel Pac’s pleasure and smugness radiating off of him through their link. Mike pushes away from the table he’d been working at and lays his head over the backrest of the chair. He breathes slowly and his hands shake as the feeling of being stretched becomes more intense. Fucking Pac, fucking asshole.

Pac I’m serious

Just enjoy it, feels so good

Mike rolls his eyes and pushes his displeasure through their link. He’s hard in his boxers, an aching heat that he knows Pac can feel just as much as Mike can feel Fit pressing a third finger inside of him. It seems a little unnecessary to Mike, there’s no way Fit is big enough to warrant such intense stretching.

He can’t do anything but sit and deal with it so he might as well have some fun as well. It's far from the first time they've done something like this.

Mike closes his eyes and pushes himself more fully into Pac’s head, forcing his way into his consciousness. The feelings instantly become 100% more intense and he cusses softly, grappling for control of some sort. Pac makes space for him and Mike finds himself staring through Pac’s eyes. He glances down and heat curls in his stomach.

Jesus christ

He’s so big right?

Pac groans out loud when Fit slowly starts to press in, Mike’s hand flys to the tent in his boxers and presses down. The movement only intensifies the pleasure Pac feels in return. Fit looks up and meets their eyes finally and blinks slowly, before laughing a little as a smile spreads across his face.

“Oi Mike” Fit greets like it’s nothing and Mike feels giddy excitement curl in his chest, courtesy of Pac. At the sound of his name on Fit's lips, Mike spits in his hand and wraps it around his cock. He squirms.

He wants you here just like I do

Shut up Pac

#fic #IDK the three of them are so compelling #Mike paying attention to Pac while he's having sex #important to me #mike cares #it turns pac on more #p@c #m!ke #f!t #qsmpnsfw

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visiosatanae · 6 months

Text

Lead Us Not into Temptation

After a grueling day of Ministry work, all you wanted was a shower. But Cardinal Copia is not usually one to resist temptation, especially not with a creature as exquisite as yourself.

Rating: Explicit

Words: 3.7k

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x Plus Size!Reader (Sister of Sin)

Ao3 Link Uncropped Art (NSFW)

All you had wanted was a shower.

The hottest part of the year had been quickly encroaching on the Ministry, and today's chores had felt more grueling than ever because of it. It had started with the unsavory task of cleaning up after the previous night's orgy. While you weren't someone who would turn your nose up at such an event, cleaning the aftermath was never something any of the Siblings wanted to be stuck with. That alone would have warranted at least a bath.

But after a quick meal it was time for kitchen duty. Today it was sweeping the floors - which became aggravating as the last strip of dirt refused to be swept into your dustpan - and cleaning the dishes. Even with wearing your rubber gloves, by the end you were wiping sweat from your brow, the scalding hot water not helping matters in the slightest.

And by late afternoon, you were in the greenhouse, possibly the worst place to be this time of year due to the humidity. After helping Papa Primo with repotting and watering the new seedlings (and a quick rinse of your hands with the hose) you were dripping in sweat and ready to be done for the day.

Unfortunately, fate is rarely so generous.

You were nearly halfway back to the dorms when you suddenly stopped short as you remembered that you had promised Sister Isabelle to cover for her duties with Cardinal Copia tonight.

Shit.

You flew through the corridors back towards the upper clergy wing, dodging Siblings and ghouls alike in a panic induced frenzy. By the time you made it to the Cardinal's chamber, your habit was sticking fast to your skin and it felt as if your lungs were on fire. Hands on your hips, you bent at the waist to try and catch your breath. But the door, much to your horror, suddenly opened to reveal the Cardinal in his striking red cassock. His expression was one of confusion and concern given your current state.

You quickly straightened back up. "A-Apologies for my tardiness, Your Eminence, I came as quickly as I could!" you panted, absolutely mortified that a member of the upper Clergy was seeing you like this.

Copia blinked at you in surprise before remembering himself. “A-Ah, si, si . Come in, Sorella.” He stepped out of the way as you awkwardly nodded and walked past him into his room. He watched you intently as you stepped inside, although you didn’t notice how his eyes lingered on the way your habit clung to your curves and ass. He managed to drag them away before you turned back to face him.

“I’m covering for Sister Isabelle today, sir, so please let me know how I can help you this evening.” You clasped your hands in front of yourself, trying to put on a bright and bubbly front to him, despite how exhausted you already were. You prayed to Lucifer that you didn't look too much of a mess.

His neatly trimmed mustache twitched ever so slightly as he tried to keep himself professional. In your current state you were so positively alluring to him and he was already struggling to stay focused. “Thank you, Sorella. Your assistance is much appreciated. Uh…” He looked around the room, trying to decipher what was needing to be done, his eyes finding the older books and tomes he had scattered around the room. “Ah! I was doing a bit of research and I seem to have gotten carried away.” He sheepishly gestured to the various places they had been haphazardly placed. “Would you please be so kind as to gather and return these books to the library, per favore ?”

You nodded and he went to sit at his private desk to continue his work, the fabric of his cassock swishing against his legs. As you began to collect the numerous volumes that he had been studying, you couldn’t help but wonder what his research had been as you glanced at the titles: A Practical Guide to Demons, The Devil Wants YOU, Accepting the Light, Hell and Its Teachers , and Communications for Dummies among others. Perhaps it all had to do with his next sermon…

Unbeknownst to you, Copia kept stealing glances your way as you ambled around the room. He felt himself growing hotter under the collar, a gloved finger tugging it down to let in some air as he swallowed thickly. He had merely been minding his own business and now this… voluptuous little thing had practically been handed to him on a silver platter. And despite your best efforts, he could see how flustered you already were. It had been a very warm day after all, no doubt your Sisterly duties had already worn you out to a degree. And now you were here to cover for another Sister’s task. How generous of you…

Cazzo , he wasn't sure if he'd be able to control himself around such a delicious little morsel as yourself like this. It looked like you weren't the only one the heat was affecting as he felt the pants beneath his cassock become tighter. His fingers clenched at the thought of even just tasting you…

“I think that's all of them. I'll return shortly, Cardinal.” He whipped around, your voice startling him out of his lascivious thoughts. He mumbled a few words of acknowledgement as you left, the solid door shutting behind you.

The moment your footsteps receded he was up from his desk, pacing the room as his manic thoughts threatened to boil over. The leather of his gloves squeaked as he wrung his hands together in agitation. It would be wrong of him to take advantage of his position like this. But then his mind wandered back to how your habit fit so snugly along every sensuous curve of your hips, thighs, and belly. The patch of sweat he had noticed just under your guimbe, where your breasts would be. Even how your ass looked as you had sashayed past him while collecting his books.

He forced himself to sit back down at his desk knowing you could be back at any minute. He removed his biretta and rubbed his temples, breathing through his nose to try and calm himself. Only a gift from Lucifer Himself would be as delectable as you. And it had been so long since he last-

The door opened once again, startling Copia out of his train of thought with a jolt, inadvertently knocking his bottle of ink off the desk. He shot up quickly before the ink could stain his cassock. “ Merda !” he swore as the dark liquid began to pool on the floor.

“Shit!” you blurted without thinking, “I'm so sorry, Your Eminence, let me clean that up right away!” You quickly ran to his connected bathroom to gather something to clean the mess with. Copia made sure to turn away from you at the risk of seeing his predicament. You came back quicker than expected with some cleaning supplies and he whirled around again, his cassock twirling around him and nearly tangling his legs. He decided to play it safe and took a seat on the edge of his bed, hands folded in his lap to cover the unseemly bulge.

You went to work in cleaning up the mess, now on your hands and knees to wipe up the ink from under the desk. Copia’s eyes widened seeing your new position. Oh Sathanus , surely this was being done on purpose?! He couldn’t help but stare as your ass swayed while you worked, sweat now beading on his brow. Surely at this point his paint was beginning to smear and he would be caught, but he couldn’t look away, couldn’t stop the lecherous thoughts that filled his mind of what he wanted to do to you in this exact moment.

All too soon, the moment was over as you stood back up. “Good news, Cardinal, I managed to clean up the ink before it reached the rug. I think with some vinegar I could-” You stopped, seeing his pained expression. “Your Eminence, are you alright?” You came up to him, his face red and he was sweating profusely. “Sir, are you ill?” You brought a hand up in an attempt to feel his temperature, but before you could he grabbed your wrist, making you jump.

“Sorella.” Your eyes widened. His voice was suddenly hoarse and had dropped in pitch. “Forgive me, but I can no longer help myself.”

With no other warning, he tugged you against him, his face burying immediately into the softness of your belly. You yelped, the feeling startling but not entirely unwelcome. However, you had no idea what to make of the Cardinal’s behavior. Little did you know, Copia was still fighting to hold himself back. He released your wrist, his hands wandering to your waist and holding you firmly against his face. Oh Satan below, he could smell you even now. His mouth watered with want to have your sweet cunt in his mouth already.

His hands gripped into the fabric of your habit, pulling away just enough to tilt his head up to look at you. Pure lust had his eyes glazing over as he gazed into your face. “Apologies for being so forward, dolcezza , but you are the most alluring creature the Dark Lord has had the beneficence of sending my way in a long time.” You felt your hem slowly hiking up but were too stunned to stop him. “Such a pretty little succubus you must be…” he mused, revealing more of your skin inch by agonizing inch. You felt your knees begin to tremble, threatening to buckle beneath you. Your hands gripped his shoulders for stability as he exposed more of you to his probing gaze.

The feeling of soft leather against your thighs caused your breath to quicken and small whimpers to escape your suddenly parched throat. “C-Cardinal,” you squeaked, “is this really-” Your words were cut off with a gasp as he placed a tender kiss above your soaking heat, over your underwear. The Cardinal was too far gone, already lost in the feel and smell of you. All it did was make him crave a taste, to savor you and all that Hell promised him for partaking in such glorious sin.

“ Per favore ,” he murmured, motioning for you to hold up the bunched up hem of your habit for him. You took it in one hand, the other still needing his shoulder for balance. Fingers dipped beneath the hem of your panties, carefully pulling them down your legs. Your body shivered as they pooled at your feet, Copia’s gaze never leaving the prize that was your quivering cunt in front of his face. He meticulously rubbed a single finger over your slit, reveling in how it easily slipped between your folds. You squeezed his shoulder, embarrassment flooding through you at how you were practically putty in his hands. As he pulled his hand away he groaned, seeing a trail of slick still connecting his finger to you. Within a moment it was in his mouth, his tongue laving over the leather pad as he sampled your flavor: sweet and tangy, but also salty from the sweat that no doubt gathered between your thighs as you went about your day.

He needed more. He needed all of you.

He grabbed at the hem of your habit again, having to tug it up as it was still stuck to you. You shivered when you felt Copia's breath on your slick skin, his leather gloves also sticking to the sweat that covered your body. As soon as you were devoid of all clothing his mouth was on your belly, immediately groaning and holding you close by the waist as he nipped and sucked anywhere he could. He delighted in your tiny yelps and whimpers. It spurred him on as he began to divulge himself of his own vestments, his mouth and tongue refusing to leave your body.

The rate at which he removed his clothes was agonizingly slow. He cursed the amount of buttons that kept everything in place. The torturous pace had you trembling for him, and the sight of your arousal coating your inner thighs only made his desire for you that much stronger. After what felt like an eternity, his red cassock was no more than a puddle of fabric on the floor, Copia now only in his undershirt and pants. You couldn't fathom how he could wear that many layers and not be in the same predicament as you were. Although it seemed there was worse he was currently going through…

Leather suddenly gripped your hips, urging you towards him onto the bed. “Straddle me, hm yes, just like that, dolcezza . My hell sent temptress,” he murmured almost to himself as he guided your thighs around his own. You gasped when you felt how hard he was beneath you, your body jolting and making you both groan in unison. He sighed, his eyes already glazed over as he leaned forward to take a pert nipple into his mouth. You couldn’t help but whine as he sucked it between his teeth, biting gently but not without ardor. Your hands clumsily grasped at his shirt, accidentally making one of the buttons go flying.

Copia couldn't have cared less in that moment, he was too lost in the taste and feel of you in his mouth, sucking harshly along your breasts with the intention of leaving marks - to claim. He still wasn't sure what had come over him, if it was a side effect of the heat or the influence of the Dark Lord Himself, but that was a moot point now. He could feel the cloth over his erection already becoming soaked between both his and your own arousal. And the way you ground that sweet pussy against him… he was dying to have it elsewhere…

“ Mia piccola diavoletta ,” he cooed, mouth coming up to suck a fresh mark onto your neck, “I need more of you. Here,” he practically pleaded, his gloved hand coming down to rub over your mound. His touch made you gasp as a skilled finger started to form teasing circles over your clit.

You nodded eagerly, eyes fluttering. “Please, Your Eminence,” words barely formed on your breath. You rolled your hips against his to further prove your enthusiasm for more. Maybe the heat was affecting you too…

You swore he growled as his lips claimed yours in a feverish frenzy of teeth and tongue. He coaxed you further up the bed, his lips never leaving yours. Somewhere in the tangle of limbs and sweat Copia had discarded his shirt leaving him in only his dress pants, which you continued to grind down onto, his erection rubbing perfectly against your aching core. His hands gripped and caressed you wherever they could before finally settling on your hips, helping you rock against him. You clung to him, your head falling to his shoulder; fingers running over his chest and appreciating the thickness of the hair covering it.

The two of you rutted together, letting the animalistic urges take over and allowing yourselves to simply enjoy each other's touch. The closer the two of you got, the more Copia leaned away, almost teasing as he tempted you to follow him. Before long he was laying flat beneath you, his hands lazily holding your hips as you continued to straddle him. The Cardinal was in complete awe of the creature above him, watching with half lidded eyes as you lost yourself in the feel of him. But he could tell it wasn't enough for you. You needed more, just like he did.

Tightening his grip, he slowly pulled your hips up, causing you to whine in frustration at the loss of friction. “No, no, Cardinal please-”

He hushed you softly. “Come closer, cara , I promise you'll like this.” He tugged at your thighs, moving you up towards his face. You felt your cheeks grow incredibly hot as you realized your most intimate place was now hovering directly over the Cardinal’s mouth. Once you understood his intentions, you felt your thighs shake with nervous excitement as heat pooled between them. Copia's hold on you suddenly wasn't enough as you clumsily grasped for the headboard to keep you steady. He chuckled darkly below you, craning his neck up to give you a quick swipe of his tongue. You yelped, feeling yourself become even wetter with his taunting.

“Come closer,” he purred again, his words merely a huff of breath with how eager he was to finally get his fill of you. His arms wrapped around the backs of your thighs, pulling you down towards his awaiting mouth.

“B-But, what if it's… too much?” Mortification flooded you at the thought of potentially injuring a member of the higher Clergy, or worse.

Copia's eyes softened slightly, even if his grip on you didn't. “If I am to meet our Dark Lord prematurely from such a tryst, I would be welcomed as a hero,” he grinned. “My only regret would be from not being able to make you finish again.”

You couldn't stop the small giggle that bubbled up from your throat. Slowly, you conceded in letting him pull you closer. You bit your lip as you watched him lower you down to his mouth, breath catching as his lips met with yours. His eyes fluttered closed with a moan as he was finally able to taste you directly, his tongue immediately lapping at your juices. He looked to be in complete ecstasy as he savored your complex flavor. This was as much a treat for him as it was for you.

And oh, how skilled he was. Even with his eyes closed he made sure to take note of every little noise and shudder that came from your body, focusing more on the areas that had you dripping even more for him. You saw his still gloved hands latch onto the tops of your thighs, holding you in place as he devoured you like forbidden fruit. Finally, his eyes opened, his eerie white one piercing you with such a carnal look that you actually gasped, feeling your stomach flip. Oh Sathanas , you nearly came right then and there. But Copia's mouth became more measured, teasing your clit with kisses and soft licks before eventually pulling away enough for him to breathe.

“ Mia piccola demonietta ,” his mustache tickled down below as he spoke, “ per favore , use me, cara .” He kissed and nipped at your folds. “Ride me,” he pleaded.

You groaned as he went back to his work, his hands moving to your hips to once again guide you to rock them. A loud gasp broke from you as his nose nestled perfectly against your clit. You tightened your grip on the headboard, using it to steady yourself as your hips involuntarily moved for you, as if seeking out the greater pleasure your mind was still too hesitant to partake in. Copia seemed pleased with your compliance, moaning into you as you finally took what you needed from him. His tongue settled down at your entrance before suddenly filling you, letting you fuck yourself onto it. You cried out in surprise at how big it felt inside you. It made you crave to be filled even more by him.

Your head fell back as you rutted against the Cardinal’s face, finally allowing your worries to fade away and simply succumb to the sinful pleasure he provided. It was wet, and messy, and slick, but all you cared about now was how good it felt. With a shaking hand, you ran your fingers through Copia's graying hair, using it as further leverage to grind yourself down onto him.

You were so lost in pleasure that you didn't feel one of his hands moving away, and you almost didn't hear the sound of a button being unclasped and a zipper being pulled down. But you definitely felt the sudden jerking motions of the Cardinal’s hand finally coming to ease the ache of his cock. The thought made you tremble and moan, just knowing that you had such a strong effect on him. You gripped his hair tighter and the jerking motions grew faster.

“So good, so c-close, fuck,” you panted, your hips moving in circles as you chased your orgasm. Through half lidded eyes you watched as he took the change with ease, eagerly pressing his tongue even further into you. Fuck, he looked so good beneath you like this.

Your hips moved faster, the heat in your belly nearly ready to be released. It felt like Copia was close too, his hand now flying against his cock. He moaned beneath you, as well what sounded like muffled whimpers. He was so focused on your own pleasure that he almost didn't realize you were tipping over the edge until he heard your pleasured cries coming loudly from above him. His eyes snapped open as he watched you come undone, relishing in how you suddenly gushed into his mouth. He drank you up greedily, gulping down the taste of your ecstasy.

He didn't last much longer either, your own orgasm helping send him over as well. You suddenly felt him stiffen beneath you, and then warm ropes of cum marking your back and ass. You gasped at the almost surreal feeling, the ebbing arousal making your mind hazy. Both of you stayed like that for a moment, not wanting the high to end. But you figured the Cardinal should probably be able to breathe again.

You groaned as your stiff muscles strained, pulling yourself off of him and collapsing against the headboard to his side, too tired and sore to care if you got his cum on it. You were pretty sure he wouldn't care either. It took quite some time for you to both catch your breath, simply finding peace in existing next to each other for the time being.

“So, is there anything else I can help you with, your Eminence?” Your voice was hoarse but there was still a playful edge to it after everything that had just happened.

Copia turned his head to look at you, his hair a mess and mustache plastered to his face, but that didn't stop the smile he gave you from looking any less lovely. “Ah, si . If it is not too much trouble, dolcezza , I was hoping to have some help testing out a new uh, bath bomb I think it's called.”

You gave a relieved sigh, happy to spend more time with the Cardinal if it meant finally being able to clean up. “Of course, sir, it would be my pleasure.”

#the band ghost #the band ghost fic #cardinal copia #sister of sin #smut #nsft #visific #ugh it feels so good to finally post this #a very self indulgent fic yes #but i wanted it to be perfect ❤

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singleloverr · 3 months

Note

Hello!!! Do you take requests for ot7? If you do can you please write headcanons about bts members how they will act around their crush? And how will they react if their crush is close with someone else and keeps talking to them while paying less attention to them?

Thank you!!!

A/n: Had so much fun writing this♡ hoped you liked it :)

Crush Headcannons

Masterlist

Kim Seokjin [김 석진]

• He would try to impress you with his cooking skills since he gets many compliments from it

"Y/n, you should try this. It's really tasty, made my me."

• shows you what it would be like if you were both in a relationship in very subtle ways such as opening the door for you, complimenting you, and joking a lot around you

• Whenever he's alone with you, hanging out together, he'd really flustered around you without his brothers being there to back him up because I mean, look at you!!

• He would get red around you, but it's mostly his ears that would get the most red

• You'd be very concerned for him because he looks he is sick most of the time that he's around you

"Jin, are you okay? You look sick."

"Oh? No its nothing at all, haha"

*queue a bead of sweat dripped down the side of his head*

• Loves to make you laugh with his dad jokes, you're one of the only people who actually find them funny

• if you don't, you still laugh at them nonetheless

• if he ever sees you really close with someone, let's say that person is a really good friend of yours and you're chatting it up really nice. He'll get jealous at the fact that you're not paying much attention to him as you usually do

• gets a little pouty but doesn't do much to steal your attention because he doesn't want to disturb you

• although a little hair flick here and there, and a wink will appear

Min Yoongi [민 윤기]

• really really likes you...

• every time he sees you, his heart rate goes a little faster

• he can't help it, you're just that gorgeous

• don't even get me started on when he first met you

• all blushy and just couldn't stop getting those little gummy smiles out of his face

• when you first properly looked at him, he got nervous

• the gaze you held and that smile you gave him made him all bsbsbsnb

• anyways, you guys hang out a lot together

• you don't even have to be speaking, just sitting or laying around doing your own thing

• he feels like he can really decompress when he's around you and just feel free, no worries in the world

• gives you physical affection more than he'd give anyone else

• I'm talking hugs and arm linking etc etc

• however, he can get a little teeny weeny attitude when he sees you close with somebody else

• if he's next to you, he breathes a little louder and adds a few more huffs and puffs to get your attention

• and attention you don't give because your close friend just has so much interesting stuff ti say!

• he just really really likes you

• maybe possibly even love you oop-

Namjoon [김 남준]

• has thought of writing a heartfelt, romantic story for you because he just feels really deeply for you

• you're his muse after all

• the first times that you guys have interacted literally had him in a chokehold

• he would stutter around you and just fumble with his words because how was he supposed to act on an amazing person like you???

• of course, over time, he would get back to being his confident self around you and would try to make you flustered here and there

• wants to impress you, so he works a little more

• he doesn't know that he can literally just breathe, and he'd get you a flustered too bhhsb

• the moments when you both have really sincere, deep conversations with one another are the ones he treasures the most

• he gets to really know for you and your flaws and all those things about yourself you think as imperfections

• he constantly tells himself to never neglect the time that he spends with you and so he tries to do everything he can to make you feel happy

• such a buying you flowers and chocolates and maybe a fluffy teddy bear would be a great decision too

• what? he's just being a really good friend to you, that's all...

• if he sees you really giggly with someone, I don't think he'd get too jealous about it, but maybe insecure

• when he looks at you and the other person, both of you laughing together and just immersed in whatever you're both talking about

• he could think that maybe he just isn't really the best match for you at all, but those feelings and thoughts would fade away once you've finally paid him your attention again

Hoseok [정 호석]

• is surprisingly normal around you

• he wouldn't really supposedly hide the fact that he has a crush on you

• butttt he wouldn't just boast about his crush on you either

• he would let you know in subtle gestures

• such as hugs and handholding

• he gets super happy whenever he sees you

• like, his heart squeezes in joy whenever he catches you in his sightline and doesn't hesitate to give you a nice squeeze

• when you hug just as much as you hug him, Hoseok just gets giddy about it

• loves dancing with you

• you wanna try this new dance with him? let's go to the studio? you need him to help you with dancing? more than happy to :3

• although he goofs off a lot with you, he would eventually show you his more "serious" side

• you would both have meaningful conversations that deepens your bond

• (makes him love you more each time)

• honestly, I think he'd be pretty chill seeing you talk with somebody else

• he wouldn't really make a big deal out of it

Park Jimin [박 지민]

• playfully flirts with you

• you playfully flirt with him back, and he just malfunctions for a moment

• I feel like he'd be really shy around you at first because, well, it's you we're talking about, but once he gets SUPER comfortable with you, get ready for a rollercoaster chsbs

• initates a lot of physical touch with you once you've indicated that you're completely comfortable with that

• I'm talking longgg hugs, cuddles, interlaced handholding and forehead kisses too

• his physical affection is comforting

• so if you're ever feeling down, Jimin will give you a really big squeeze, and everything just seems to be so much better with his touch

• kinda whines when you're not giving him much attention

• which would then lead onto him feeling jealous that you aren't paying him much attention

• gets a little pouty because he'd get so used to being the center of attention and now suddenly that being lost is very... foreign to him

Kim Taehyung

• has that boxy smile on his face whenever he sees you

• you just make him feel so happy and amazing and just miraculous. you don't understand hsbsbs

• loves to spend time with you

• whether it be by listening to music, conversations, or eating together

• will do anything you're doing just for the sake of being with you

• doesn't matter if you're working on your assignments or you're taking a nap. He'll be there.

• randomly daydreams about your future even though you're not together (yet)

• seeing you with another person that steals your attention from him to that person makes him feel... a little jealous

• he tries to reassure himself that it's not like that between you two but the way you're just laughing at their words and looking like you're having one of the best times of your life

• deflates a bit but gains back his happy energy once you've gotten back to him

Jungkook

• blushed a LOT when he first saw you

• probably wasn't thinking straight

• wants to impress you so he works out a little harder, shows you his tricks and just basically does anything he thinks will make you impressed

• gets super comfortable with you, so he knows you wouldn't mind when he goofs off

• play fighting!!

• uses it as a way to show his strength, but wouldn't do it to the point where you are hurt ofcc

• also uses it as a way to get close to you >_<

• another way he'd close to you is by asking you questions about yourself

• they can be quite random-

"What was your favorite memory as a child, and why?"

"That question came out of nowhere..?"

"I just wanna get to know you better, pretty."

• have I mentioned that he can be quite the flirt?

• I'm sure we all know-

• cares for you

• cooks you meals, and if you're foreign, he'd try to learn the dishes that you'd eat at home

• just wants to boost the fact (subtly) that he'd be a good boyfriend for you

• he'd get kinda possessive when seeing you close with someone else instead of him

• he'd just want you to himself you know?

• he really really likes you, and he's just hoping you really really like him back

#bangtan sonyeondan #bts x reader #fluff #female reader #bts #bts boyfriend headcannons #bts taehyung #jungkook x reader hcs #taehyung x reader #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #hoseok x reader #kim seokjin x reader #min yoongi x reader #bts as your boyfriend

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bountycancelled · 5 months

Text

dirty secret

coriolanus snow x reader

tip me on kofi

requested: nope, I pulled this out of my ass, but if you want more coryo stuff lemme know 😜

warnings: suggestive content, coriolanus snow (derogatory), speaking of derogatory, snow has a degrading kink in this so yeah, mentions of cockstepping, faceslapping, just... be prepared

content: im p sure i dont mention readers gender but pls correct me if you catch anything, hella ooc snow (like, this dude would never act like this but I'm a writer which means I can make him do whatever I want), readers a bitch but snow likes it, sub!coryo, lowercase intended because fuck grammar, unedited

smut under the cut♡

a/n: give me more submissive coriolanus you cowards (I'm kidding ur not cowards but pretty please write this man begging for mommy to let him cum or whatever, not for me, I swear.) also, this is my first time writing full smut like ever so, idek what came over and I wanna apologise😭😭

here me out, academic rival!coryo with a little secret...

the two of share a friend, for lack of a more fitting term, in clemesia, and find yourselves in each others presence often as a result of the fact. and this would be good and well, if the two of you didn't despise each other down to the bone.

besides the fact that the two of you felt the need to prove yourselves due to differing circumstances, you both also shared an insatiable need for power, the kind that could only be obtained by bring the very best at the academy.

it was almost comical how much you wanted to beat each other, and this rivalry bled into your non academic interactions, making them just as sour.

coriolanus found genuine enjoyment in getting under your skin, and you retaliating only made him want to poke at you more, which led to you retaliating once again, and so on and so forth.

as time passed, you'd somehow found yourself tolerating snow, even going as far as to enjoy your occasional back and forths with each other when you were the only two in the library, sitting at same desk even though you didn't need to (coriolanus insisted on planting himself directly across from you just to be a nuisance, and it worked.)

your banter turned more and more friendly, confusing your peers as you walked side by side, your arm linked with his as you bragged about receiving a higher score than him on a test, to which he just responded that you had gotten lucky and that it wouldn't happen again.

you didn't turn completely soft though, your insults were still as sharp as ever, even though you now said them with a playful smirk. they were cruel, and always seemed to send coriolanus into a spiral as he attempted to get the last word in, which he never did, always waving the white flag at the end.

you had always held that over his head, the fact that you could always best him in a verbal battle, on top of beating him in assignments and the like. but what you didn't know was that you were mistaken.

coriolanus didn't always relent because you were better at verbal lashings (which you were, but that's besides the point), he always stopped egging you on before your words escalated because if he let you degrade him any further, he wouldn't be able to hide how much he liked it.

he was almost shameless, as if he wanted you to know just how much you turned him on during you spats with him. like today for example, where you had been particularly harsh to him, even going as far as calling him useless. it wasn't his fault, someone had passed you off before you had met up with him in the library and you were more agitated than usual.

he excused himself to the bathroom shortly after, and you found yourself wondering if what you said had affected him so heavily that he needed to get away from you.

oh, it affected him alright. he thanked the universe that 1) something had happened to make you as harsh as you were and 2) that the bathroom he entered was completely empty because he knew that he would have a bit of trouble keeping himself quiet.

he had barely made it to a stall and closed the door before palming himself through his pants, shudders moving through his whole body as his hips canted to meet his hand.

a whine tore through his throat as he imagined you catching him like this, and he quickly unbuckled his belt and slipped his hand in his underwear, stroking his dick firmly at the image.

you would probably laugh at him, dishing out every degrading name you could think of, calling him a dirt slut, saying that he was disgusting pervert for being so turned on at you being mean to him. and he would nod his head vigorously, because he was a slut, only for you.

maybe you would slap him across the face, leaving him with red cheeks, or maybe you would step on his poor weeping cock until he came on your shoe. would you make him clean it off? god, help him if you did.

his hips stuttered at the thought of eating his own cum, it was just so dirty and the fact that a simple look from you could turn him into such a depraved shell of the image that he excuded in his day to day was enough to send him over the edge.

he came with a groan, his hips not ceasing their thrusting into his fist until every last drop was out. as he cleaned himself up, fixing his uniform in the mirror, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, you knew what you were doing to him. and if the look you gave him when he came back, timidly taking his seat, it seemed that you had some idea.

"you know, I think you need to punished for what you just did, coryo. for what you've been doing. do you like the sound of that, hmm?"

and if the way the cock pulsed in his pants, already hard again was any indication, he loved the sound of that.

#coriolanus x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #coriolanus smut #corio x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus snow x female!reader #coriolanus snow headcanon #coriolanus snow angst #sub coriolanus #tbosas x you #tbosas x reader #tbosas #the hunger games

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grandlinedreams · 7 months

Note

childhood friends trope with Law please and thank you <3333 This particular trope always has me in shambles THE INTIMACY?? OR KNOWING EVERY VERSION OF THAT PERSON?? THE INSIDE JOKES? UGHHH And lets not forget the tenderness that comes with knowing that person for years and then some. Good shit. I just want this lonely brooding twink to have something constant in his from from his childhood to adulthood. The softness makes me wanna hurl i love it

YESSSSS i am also such a sucker for childhood friends trope bls I hope I can do this justice for you!!

[Heads up!: fluff, a touch of angst, dressrosa arc spoilers]

He's lucky to not be dead.

You kneel on Law's other side, limp hand in both of yours. You've never seen him so still and quite frankly, you're terrified.

You know you should talk to him, try to keep him tethered here in the land of the living ㅡ but your mind is horribly blank given the chaos still unfolding around you.

Were you more sentimental, you'd beg. A thousand pinky promises and accompanying eyerolls, the smirk you so often threaten to punch him for when he's being insufferable ㅡ you'd take it over this.

"You must care for him quite a bit," Viola says, and you know she's trying to find something to say, to reassure you that Law is going to be just fine. "Are you..."

She trails off, tact where there often is none when it comes to you and Law. Because there's only so in sync you can be with someone else, share looks and understand what the other wants, seemingly operate as two halves of a whole before you get that question.

"No," you say, "we're just friends."

ㅡ

You're a lot more than just friends. That implies that there's been much of a time where you didn't know each other, and there really hasn't. Or that the two of you met through traditional means.

That isn't quite true either. You meet when the world is on fire for the both of you, in ways so similar and yet not.

Grief is such a funny thing when you find comfort in someone who's lost just as much as you. It's easier to tread those dark waves when someone else is threatening to sink with you ㅡ find solid ground in linked pinkies and eyerolls that follow, wide grins made hole-punched by missing baby teeth.

Of course there's also Shachi, Penguin and Bepo ㅡ they aren't far behind you in knowing Law, but it still stands that you've been a constant for longer.

"Of course I'm gonna come with you, idiot," you huff, eyes gleaming with laughter, "who else is gonna put up with you the way I do?"

You don't need to tell him you'd gladly follow him through the gates of hell. He knows, because he'd do the same for you.

There's only one person who knows you better than yourself, and his name is Trafalgar Law. You don't turn as he exits Kyros' house, eyes still skyward as he sinks onto the step beside you.

"The stars are pretty," you remark.

"You should be asleep." Law's eyes narrow when you mouth his words at the same time, and you scoff.

"Last time I checked, I wasn't the one who got shot, then almost lost an arm." Law meets your gaze, then looks away. "I'm not expecting you to apologize, because that isn't how we operate. But we made a promise, didn't we?"

"[Name]ㅡ"

"Law."

Law huffs. "We were kids."

"So? Hasn't stopped us before. As I recall, you've pulled this card on me several times." You hold your hand up, pinky extended. "Do it, Law."

Law stares at you, as thrilled about your tradition as he ever is, but links his pinky around yours. You grin, and he rolls his eyes. "You're a pain."

"Yeah," you answer, scooting closer to settle your head on his shoulder. "You're my pain, and I'm yours. That's how it works, right?"

Law is quiet, undoubtedly still coming to terms with the end of all of this and what it means for him ㅡ catharsis, a shackle unclamped from around his neck. Your hand finds his, fingers braced through the gaps of his, and you squeeze. You don't say a word, and you don't have to.

"Yeah," Law finally answers, lets his head rest against yours. "It is."

#ㅡmine.#one piece x reader #one piece scenario #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #ㅡanswered.#anonymous

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xdaddysprincessxx · 8 months

Text

Fear Thy Neighbor

Serial Killer Farmer Joel x librarian!f!reader

Warnings: Dead Dove/dark fic, horror! death, reader & Joel are both killers, animal death (it’s not explicit but more so just implied), p in v (protect your genitalia!!), face slaps,m/m kissing I think that’s it, let me know if I missed something, all mistakes are mine! Not edited or beta’d!

Summary: Its the fall of 1969, it’s been five years since Chesterfield had a string of murders linked to the Scarecrow Killer. New to town, you moved into a little trailer out in the woods near the infamous Farmer Joel and his famous corn maze. . .

A/n: yea yea I know I said farmer Joel was a one shot. Well he wanted y’all to have more of him so enjoy

Nothing but shades of red, orange and yellow as far as you can see stretch on for miles and miles on either side of the road your currently driving down. Time of the Season by the Zombies is flowing out of your car speakers as you hum along, thrumming your thumbs on the steering wheel. It’s 8:25 am and your on your way to the town library where you work. You recently moved to Chesterfield a few months ago after a nasty breakup. Needing to do some soul searching, you went on a drive that lasted hours and just so happened to come across this cute little town. Low on gas and a hungry tummy, you decided to stop at the local diner for some pancakes and couldn’t help but fall in love. Now here you are just a few months later, living in a nice little trailer out in the woods a few miles out of town, working at the library. You got to spend all your time surrounded by books and then went home to peace and quiet. Well mostly quiet. You’ve always had these rather loud thoughts in your head, these urges to hurt. To inflict pain. You never acted on these urges, burying it deep within yourself. But living out in the woods, you were finally able to let these urges win. Nobody is gonna care if a wild squirrel goes missing.

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Eyes popping open as a shiver runs through his body, Joel wakes up freezing. He goes to pull the blanket tighter around himself to fight off the cold. The heat must’ve stopped working at some point in the night judging by the way he can see his breath when he opens his mouth and let’s out a puff of air. Letting out an exhausted sigh, Joel reluctantly gets out of bed and starts to get ready for the day. He’s not very well versed in the mechanics of how to fix a heater so he’s decided to go to the library and see what info he can find about it.

The rumble of his truck engine roars as he pulls into the Chesterfield Library parking lot. Coming to a halt in a spot, he cuts the engine and gets out, slamming the truck door. Standing by his truck, Joel looks around, taking in his environment. He’s not a fan of having to come into town. Ever since he last killed in 1965 he’s been very leery of the townsfolk. Some might call it paranoia even though Joel knows there’s no way for anyone to trace the murders back to him. He is very thorough in his work, yet he can’t help but be suspicious of other people.

Walking through the doors, a burst of heat slapping him in the face. His eyes landing on a pretty little thing sitting behind the front desk, just off to the side. Your beauty stopped him in his tracks, just standing there, unable to take his eyes off of you. Someone clears their throat behind him, causing Joel to blink a few times to break the spell you unknowingly cast on him. He turned his head to see someone trying to get past him, Joel nods at the person as he moves out of the way. Scuffling his feet, he makes his way to the desk your sitting at when he clears his throat. You look up at him with these beautiful wide eyes and the prettiest smile on your lips, Joel almost forgets what he came here for.

“Hi - i um Hello. I am looking for books on how to work on heaters please.” He manages to sputter out, eyes darting every which way refusing to look you in the eye.

Your smile widens, “Hi! Ohmygosh! You’re Farmer Joel right? You have the famous corn maze I’ve been hearing about? Actually I’m pretty sure we’re neighbors! Haha! What a small world!” You ramble, noticing his eyes stop on your face with a look on his face that says he’s either got bad constipation or he absolutely hates people interactions and you won’t shut up, “oh heaters! Yes! Yea we have a whole section in the back on home repairs and such. You should be able to find something. It’s straight back and to your left, I can take you there if you’d like?”

Grunting, he shakes his head no, “uh n- no. I got it. Thanks.” He says in a gruff voice before walking off to the back.

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Sliding the key into your front door, you can’t wait to get inside and drown yourself in some wine after the day you had. Joel Miller. The Joel Miller came into your library and you spoke to him. Like actual words came out of your mouth and his ears heard them. Why are you like this?? He’s just a man! But he’s so stupidly handsome and hot and oh those salt and pepper curls of his and that patchy beard you wish you felt between your thighs all too often. You knew exactly who he was when he walked in this afternoon. Shortly after moving in, you decided to go exploring around in the woods and came across a barn. You saw the barn before you saw the nice little two story farmhouse off to the side a little ways away. Walking up to the back of the barn, you heard grunting and decided to take a peak into a crack in the wood. That’s when you first saw him. His back was to you as he chopped wood. He had a red flannel on with the sleeves pushed up so his forearms were on display. Sweat dripping down his neck as he pulled the axe back and swung down cutting a thick piece of wood in two. He dropped the axe and turned to the side as he wiped his brow. That’s the very first time you saw him. Lost in a daze you accidentally stepped on a twig, trying to get on your tippy toes to get a better look and he quickly snapped his head in your direction. Holding your breath, the both of you seemed to stop moving entirely. You staring at him and him staring back, even though you knew he couldn’t have actually seen you, you were still terrified he did. That night you couldn’t stop bringing yourself to ecstasy. Orgasm after orgasm, your fingers were all pruned from your juices after you were done.

Snapping back to reality, you fling yourself onto your bed. Looking up at your ceiling, you let out a long, exhausted sigh,

“What the hell is wrong with you? He is a fucking farmer for Christ’s sake. Not fucking John Lennon. Ughhh”

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It’s already a quarter past 4 and Joel still hasn’t managed to fix his heater. He borrowed several books that are now all strewn across his kitchen floor as he tries for the umpteenth time to fix this damn thing. On his knees, bent over, Joel’s cranking a wrench, using all his strength to get this damn bolt off. The wrench slips causing Joel to fall forward. Grabbing the wrench, he throws it across the room, “Fuck!” He yelled before getting up and stomping outside. He is furious! It shouldn’t be this hard to fix a stupid fucking heater! And of course he doesn’t have any more time to waste on it because he has to open up his corn maze. People are gonna start pulling in soon.

The rest of the night isn’t any nicer to the old man either. Had several teenagers come through being rude as hell. Although it’s been awhile, Joel is still so worked up he’s decided he’s gonna grab the last little group of teens going through and kill them to let off some steam. It’s already after 9pm and everyone else is gone. He starts off doing what he usually does, he turns off the outdoor lights before making his way through the corn stalks to grab his first victim.

It was three teen boys. Football players. With loud, obnoxious mouths on them and attitudes that clearly show they’ve never been told no a day in their lives. The first two were pretty easy kills. They had separated from the third boy, apparently to sneak in some alone time with each other. Joel found them making out under the moonlight. He struck them with a pitchfork, it went in one boys head and through the other boys head, getting both of them at once. As he’s dragging their bodies inside his barn, the third boy stumbles upon him. Joel immediately drops them and goes to lunge towards the boy. Joel isn’t young, he can’t move like he used too. But before Joel even makes it out of his barn, the boy suddenly stops as if he hit a wall and then Joel hears a thwack and the kid falls down with a sickening thud. Joel’s eyes go huge when he sees you standing on the other side of the kid holding a 2 x 4 piece of wood. Frozen, all he can do is watch you as you raise the wood above your head and bring it down, Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! The kids body laying there, his head resembles a pumpkin that just fell off the roof of a house. Blood and brains everywhere, you had blood splatter covering your face, brain matter covered your clothes, hands were a dark red. After the third bash, you drop the wood, stand up straight and look at Joel with those beautiful wide, doe eyes.

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It was late when you decided to go for a walk. You just so happen to find yourself walking up to Joel’s barn when the lights go out. You heard a faint slick squelching sound. You quickly run to the side of the barn and flatten yourself against the wall. You see a 2 x 4 piece of wood laying on the ground that you decide to pick up in case you need to defend yourself. With your back to the barn you quietly side step until your at the corner of the building. Taking some deep breaths , you finally get yourself it somewhat calmed before you take a peek around the corner. There’s a light on in the barn and that’s the only light source other than the moon. That’s when you see Joel dragging two bodies by the ankles towards the barn.

Oh my god. Joel? The man of your dreams dragging bodies? Does this mean what you think it means? Do the two of you share this little activity in common?

Before you think or say or do anything, some teenager comes running out of the corn maze and comes to an abrupt halt just a body’s length away from Joel. He looks absolutely frightened at what he sees. Joel immediately drops the ankles and raises his hands up in surrender, his brows raising before he lunges towards the kid. The kid takes off heading in your direction. Thinking quick on your feet you pop out of your hiding spot, stunning the young man before you thwack him in the head. His body falls to the side, hitting the cold, hard ground with a heavy thud. Unable to stop yourself, you raise the board above your head and bring it down hard on the kids head repeatedly. The thrill of decimating his head is just, ugh! The best fucking high of your life! The way his head just smooshes, the blood and the brains flying out. There’s just something satisfying about it.

Once you’re sure he’s deader than a door nail, you drop the board and straighten back up. A sigh of relief and a small smile lights up your face as you look at your little scene. You remember where you are and you look up and your eyes go right to Joel as he just stands there, staring at you with those big, brown eyes. A look of admiration and shock on his face, that’s when it hits you, he didn’t know you were here. Oops. Well now he knows.

Despite being covered in blood and brains, you take charge and walk right up to Joel, grab his face and plant the biggest kiss on his lips.

Joel’s shocked as hell. You’re the pretty little librarian from earlier. What the hell were you doing at his place? And what the hell just happened? The way you took that kid out was. . Well it was hot. Watching you beat that kids head in with this deranged look on your face made his dick throb. If he thought he wanted you when he first saw you, well then he’s gotta have you now and by the kiss you’re giving him right now, it seems you want him just as bad.

Your tongue pushes in between his luscious lips as you enthusiastically lick the inside of his mouth, tasting him. When you feel him return the kiss just as enthusiastic, you can’t help but let out a muffled moan. You were already horny thinking about the handsome farmer on your walk over here and then getting to act on an urge has you dripping wet. Joel wraps his arms around you as the two of you continue to lick and taste each other. You feel his hands move down and grip the back of your thighs, so you grab onto his shoulders and let him hoist you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. Joel carries you inside the barn, pushing you up against the wall just inside the door. Your lips on his never breaking the whole time. You grind your cunt onto the front of Joel, feeling his huge erection through his overalls. Joel breaks away, leaving a kiss on the side of your mouth as he trails kisses down your neck before biting down on the sensitive part of your neck and sucking.

You let out a loud moan as he bites down on your neck, gripping the curls at the base of his head. You can’t hold back any longer, you use your body weight and push against him, making him break the connection of his lips on your neck as he stumbles back. You land on your feet, gripping his flannel as he slowly stumbles back on his ass. Immediately you straddle his thick waist as he lands on his butt. You push the top half of him down on this little pile of hay he landed on, still gripping his flannel, you give him a devious smile

“You like this baby? Huh? You like watching me kill? Does that turn you on?” You say in a seductive voice as you lean forward, putting a hand around his neck, lightly choking him. Joel looks up at you with the horniest look in his eyes, so turned on he can’t form the words he wants to say. He lets out a moan like grunt at your question, licking his lips.

You give him this empathetic pout. “Oh poor baby. Look at you. Pathetic.” You pronounce that last word with venom laced in your voice. You raise your other hand and slap his face. Not too hard but hard enough his face turned to the side and his cheek got red where you hit him. He turns his face back to look at you, shocked.

“Use your words big boy,” you slap his face again, “You like this baby? You wanna fuck my tight cunt? Yea you do baby. I wanna feel that huge dick your hiding fill me up.” You say, a moan escaping as Joel thrusts up under you.

“Fucking hell girl, you keep this up I’ll give you this dick every damn day darlin’” Joel finally manages to say. Moving his hands off your hips, Joel scrambles to undo his overall straps to pull it down. Your quick to lift up off him and help pull them down to reveal his boxers that your quick to pull down, Joel lifting his hips to help you remove them.

You swear your eyes bulge out of your head when you see his cock. At least a good seven inches, decent girth and uncut. Your mouth drops open as you literally drool at the sight of him. Lifting up your dress, you spit in your hand and go to lube up his dick. You weren’t wearing panties since you took them off after work so you could finger your poor pussy relentlessly to thoughts of Joel. Gripping his cock, you sink down on his hard length, the stretch of taking him hurts so good. Your barely past the tip and already your eyes are rolling back. You’re no virgin by any means but you’ve only ever had one partner. And his dick was no where near the size or girth of Joel’s. You almost have to stop mid way down and take a deep breath so you don’t hurt yourself.

Joel’s big, meaty hands are gripping your hips as he bites his bottom lip trying his best to restrain himself from fucking up into your wet heat. He can tell by the look on your face he’s a lot to take. Finally you sink all the way down on his cock.

Letting out a moan, you’ve never felt more full. You clench your pussy a couple of times earning an unabashed moan from this big hunk of a man before he moves his hips up, pushing his cock deeper into you.

“J- Joel ohmygod I can feel you in my stomach! Ooooh nngh oh Joel fuck me!”

Joel puts his hand on your lower stomach and presses down as he moves his hips up, causing you to go up and down on top of him.

“Fuck darlin I can feel me in there too. You’re so tight baby f-fuuucccckkkk ride me darlin’ come on ride. this. old. cowboy.” Joel says, punctuating the last few words with a thrust. You manage to collect yourself, still on your knees straddling him, your hands finding purchase on his chest, you begin to rock back and forth before moving up and down. You find a rhythm going back and forth between the motions that feels so good. His cock kissing your cervix as your tight walls hug him. Joel puts his thumb up to your mouth and you take it, sucking his digit. The both of you groaning at the erotic moment. Joel takes his thumb out and moves down to your clit where he begins to rub small, precise circles around your button. It takes no time for your pleasure to build. Actually you were already rather close just from how good his cock felt penetrating you.

“Oh god Joel yes! Yes! Fuck don’t stop!” You yell as you begin to ride him harder, your pussy gripping his cock even tighter, “f-fill my cunt up! I-I want you deep inside of me baby! Please! Oh fuck please!”

Groaning at hearing you say you want his cum deep inside of you has Joel’s eyes rolling back. Just a few more circles on your clit has you over the edge, coming hard on his dick. You slump forward, laying your chest on his as he wraps his arms around you, holding you to him as he begins to thrust up into your wet cunt. Feeling your pussy spasm around his cock, it takes no time before Joel’s shooting his thick load deep inside of you. You lay your forehead on his as you both close your eyes, breathing heavily, coming down from your high.

“Darlin’ I don’t even know your name but I’d love to marry you.” Joel says with a chuckle. Giggling you tell him your name as you sit up and move to get up off of him. Your legs still jelly so you kinda fall over to the side and lay down on the hay pile next to him.

“When I saw you at the library today you took my breath away. You’re so pretty.”

You’re little post sex smile grew into a huge grin, “I have to be honest, I live not that far away from you. Not long after I moved in, I went explorin and found your barn and saw you chop some wood. I’ve had eyes for you ever since.”

Your little confession made Joel blush.

“Would you like to come inside my house? I can clean you up and I can put a pot of coffee on and we can talk? Unless you wanna leave?” Joel asks sheepishly.

“I would love too!” You say excitedly before placing a soft kiss on his lips.

When the two of you finally got up and went inside, you guys talked until the sun came up. You never did go back home after that. Soon his house became yours too.

A/n: they got married and lived happily ever after the end. Jk you’ll be seeing these lovebirds again thanks to @neverwheremoonchild for planting an idea seed in my head already lol anyways I hope y’all enjoyed! I appreciate all the likes/comments/reblogs! You guys are the best!😘♥️

Farmer Joel enthusiasts: @multiversed-daydreamer @patti7dc @neverwheremoonchild @beefrobeefcal @toxicanonymity @lumoverheaven

#serial killer Joel #joel miller #farmer Joel #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #dead dove fic #dark fic #spooky fic #spooky season #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe

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pathos-logical · 2 years

Text

How to Keep Doing Descriptions (from someone who does a fuckton)

Plain text: How to Keep Doing Descriptions (from someone who does a fuckton)

This is a list aimed mostly at helping people who already write IDs; for guides at learning how to do them yourself, check my accessibility and image description tags! I write this with close to two years of experience with IDs and chronic pain :)

Get used to writing some IDs by using both your phone and your computer, if you can! I find it easier to type long-form on my laptop, so I set up videos and long comics on my phone, which I then prop up against my laptop screen so I can easily reference the post without constantly scrolling or turning my head

I will never stop plugging onlineocr.net. I use it to ID everything from six-word tags to screenshots of long posts to even comic dialogue! On that last note, convertcase.net can convert text between all-caps, lowercase, sentence case, and title case, which is super helpful

Limit the number of drafts/posts-to-be-described you save. No, seriously. I never go above 10 undescribed drafts on any of my four blogs. It doesn’t have to be that low, but this has done wonders (italics: wonders) for my productivity and willingness to write IDs. If I ever get above that limit, even if it’s two or three more, I immediately either describe the lowest-effort post or purge some, and if I can't do that then I stop saving things to drafts no matter what. No exceptions! Sticking to this will make your life so much easier and less stressful

My pinned post has a link to a community doc of meme description templates!

Ask! For! Help! Please welcome to the stage the People’s Accessibility Server! It’s full of lovely people and organized into channels where you can request/volunteer descriptions and ask/answer questions

I make great use of voice-to-text and glide typing on my phone to save my hands some effort!

Something is always better than nothing!!! A short two-sentence or one-sentence ID is better than no ID at all. Take it easy :)

If you feel guilty about being unable to reblog amazing but undescribed art, try getting into the habit of replying to OP’s post to let them know you liked it! This makes me feel less pressured to ID absolutely everything I see

This is a sillier one, but I tag posts I describe as "described" and "described by me." When saving to drafts, I never preemptively tag with "described by me," since for some reason that always makes me feel extra pressure and extra stress. Consider doing something similar for yourself if that applies!

I frequently find myself looking at pieces of art which feel like they need to be considered for a bit before I can write an ID for them, and those usually get thrown into drafts, where the dread for writing a comprehensive ID just builds. Don’t do that! Instead, try just staying in the reblog field for a bit and focus on the most relevant aspects of the piece. Marinate on them for a little; don’t rush, but don’t spend more than a handful of seconds either. I find after that the art becomes way easier to describe than it initially seemed!

On that note, look for shortcuts that make IDs less taxing for you to do! For example, I only ever describe clothes in art if they're relevant to the piece; not doing that every time saves a lot of time and energy for me personally

Building off of that, consider excusing yourself from a particular kind of ID if you want to. Give yourself a free pass for 4chan posts, or fanart by an artist who does really good but really complex comics, whatever. Let it be someone else's responsibility and feel twice as proud about the work that you can now allot more energy to!

As always, make an effort to find and follow fellow describers! It’s always encouraging to get described posts on your dash, and I find that sometimes I'm happier to ID an undescribed post when the person who put it on my dash is a friend who tagged it with "no ID"

TL;DR: To make ID-writing less stressful and more low-effort, use different devices and software like onlineocr.net and voice-to-text, limit the amount of work you expect yourself to do, and reach out to artists and other describers!

#i have no idea if there's a real audience for this post but this is a genuine list of things i do to help myself out #i hope it can help someone else out too <3 #accessibility #image descriptions #my posts #kay talks #long post #this has been in my drafts for so long i'm exiling it because i can't stand wondering if it's coherent any longer

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lainiespicewrites · 4 months

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Electric Summer Ch 3.

AHHH I'm loving this story so much!!! Here's chapter 3! I couldn't stop writing this lol

Summary: Sy and Lainie get ready for the campers to arrive. Everyone gets to know each other. It's a perfect summer day until...the weather takes a turn.

warnings: light cursing.

Reblogs and comments ALWAYS welcome! Please let me know what you think!!

Link for Ch2

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That night I barely slept. Buzzing with all of the energy from the day. The adrenaline and excitement and the butterflies. All of it ran through me like a high I didn’t want to come off of. But still I was skeptical. Was this the universe at play or was it just a coincidence? No, it couldn’t be. Not when all of my emotions seemed to be even stronger in his presence. And as much as I’d like to deny it, I still thought about him often. I had tried to let all of this go. But it’s like he had this grip on me. Everytime I tried to go out with someone new or go on a date. Or let someone touch me. It felt like I was betraying him. I knew that wasn’t true. I know Sy. He never really wanted me to wait forever, I don’t think either of us ever thought we’d see each other again. And if I had seen someone or been with someone he’d never hold that against me. But I just couldn’t do it.

At some point I must’ve drifted off to a restless sleep. My alarm woke me at 6:30AM. After our dip in the lake yesterday I definitely needed a shower. After a quick morning shower and getting ready for the day. In just some simple workout shorts and a t-shirt. It was supposed to get hot today. I decided to start working on decorations for the cabin before breakfast. I remember one year our counselor made signs with our names on them to hang over whatever bunk we’d chosen. I loved that idea.

I went through the roster becca had given me when I’d checked in yesterday and got to work carefully drawing each name and fun summer designs on each one. I wasn’t much of an artist but I was genuinely pretty impressed with myself.

Then I started to hang the garland letters sign I made for our door. Each year camp has a theme. And our counselors would come up with a name for our group or our cabin before we got there. It was always fun guessing and anticipating what cabin we would get. This year’s theme was classic movies. I smiled proudly to myself as I taped the string to the door after checking one last time to make sure it was straight. We were the “Pink Ladies” I may have a serious obsession with the film Grease.

I’d decided that if we were paired with one of the boys cabins we would be the pink ladies and I’d convince the boys counselor to be the T-birds. Luckily, Sy didn’t take much convincing. We talked about it yesterday before we started going over the icebreaker games. Although he did briefly try to change my mind and talked about the boys doing a “Top Gun” theme but he conceeded when I pouted. I made both our signs last night. After about an hour of trying to fall asleep I gave up and sat on the floor cutting the letters out of cardstock. I planned on taking the sign over to him after I figured out how to hang the fairy lights over the rafters. I climbed up onto the top bunk and started there making my way around the perimeter of the cabin. But there was still one long beam across the middle I started on the top bunk in one corner of the room but that only got me so far. I Pulled the little table in the center of the room over and climbed up standing on top of it. It was just tall enough for me to be able to toss the lights around and catch it on the other side of the beam. Just as I’d moved the table and climbed back up to start another section I heard the screen door open.

“What are you doin?” He asked an edge of panic in his voice. Sy was leaning against the door frame watching me.

“Hanging lights.” I shrugged, turning back to the task at hand.

“You’re gonna get hurt,” He said. Walking over to the table staring up at me to meet my eyes. I looked down shaking my head.

“I am not! I’m almost done once I finish this part I’m gonna climb onto the other bunk.” I explained wrapping the lights around one more time before starting to get down. I felt Logan’s hands on my waist steadying me and helping me off the table. “Thanks” I blushed turning away from him quickly it was to early for this.

“Anytime darlin, you want some help?” He asked. I shook my head as I climbed the ladder to the top bunk diagonal from mine.

“Nope this is the last part!” I said as I finished wrapping the lights around the beam. “Did you need something?” I asked. Looking down at him.

“Yeah you not to give me a heart attack!” He joked. I chuckled.

“I was fine Logan!” I argued. He shook his head.

“I was actually coming to see if you were ready to head over to breakfast?” He asked I looked down at my watch and looked back up.

“Is it 8:30 already?” I asked. He nodded.

“Sure is!” He smiled. I hopped down from the bunk laughing when his eyes went wide again.

“Jesus woman,” He laughed. “Would you stop trying to get hurt!” He chided.

“Oh so you can go of overseas and fight in a war, but I can’t do a little home decor without you threatening to put me in a bubble?” I raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t mean you aren’t capable of doing it yourself darlin, it’s just if I remember right you tend to be accident prone.” He chuckled.

“That was 7 years ago! I was 17, I was a little clumsy. That’s all.” I defended.

“Sure,” He smiled. “You ready to go eat?” He asked. I nodded.

“Just let me grab some shoes!” I slipped on a pair of vans and we headed out the door.

I was so glad we took the time to sit down and enjoy breakfast because the rest of our morning and early afternoon went by so fast.

We had another staff meeting about greeting campers. And meeting parents. Dealing with home sickness. A crash course on first aid. The first day’s schedule. Luckily Sy and I were with the older kids. High school age. So our day’s weren’t quite as structured. But somehow that made me more nervous. What if they just brushed us off and none of our effort was even worth it.

I didn’t have time to think about it. At 1 pm right after lunch and after we finished. Some staff bonding games of our own it was time for check in. It was kind of a long process if I remember so I still had maybe 20 minutes before any of my campers would be there but I was still so nervous. I went and sat out on the picnic table writing down the schedule and some of the games Logan and I had talked about trying one last time to get all my thoughts organized. At one point when I looked up I saw him across the lawn standing on the porch of his cabin finally taping the sign I’d made to his door.

Better late than never I suppose. I giggled to myself. To be fair it’s a miracle the boys cabins ever participated in those sorts of things anyway. They never were ones to decorate. And their cabins always had a certain…smell to them. I shook my head and looked up again just in time to catch his eye across the lawn. I smiled sending him a little wave. I saw him grin and he waived back. Just as I thought about walking over to chat, a young girl and what i’m guessing is her mom stopped in front of the cabin.

“Cabin E?” The mom asked smiling. I nodded. Standing up to greet them.

“That’s me!” I smiled. “Welcome to camp!”

“Thank you!” She said. “This is Emma,” she gestured to her daughter.

“I can introduce myself mom,” she chided her mother. “I’ve been doing this for 4 years now.” Ah so she was a seasoned camper. She should be fun.

“It’s nice to meet you Emma, I’m Lainie, do you need help bringing anything inside? I asked gesutring to her bags.

“Oh I can help her!” Her mom jumped in. Emma rolled her eyes.

“Mom I love you, but you’re hovering. I got it from here.” She assured her. The womans face fell but she nodded.

“Alright I get it, it’s time for me to go.” she said. I gave her a sympathetic look.

“Hey Emma no one else is here yet why don’t you go choose your bunk and get settled in, I always liked to get here early too so I could get the bed I wanted.” I told her.

The girls eyes lit up and she nodded. She quickly hugged her mom and grabbed her bags walking toward the door.

“It’s just two weeks mom! I love you!” she said before she walked inside. Her mother smiled sadly and looked back to me.

“She’s so independent, I don’t know when that happened. She grew so fast. I’ll only get to do this with her one more year.” Her mother explained.

“She’s just excited, I remember these days. I was a camper myself not to long ago. But trust me, about half way through the first week. I would start to get a little home sick. We alway miss our mommas.” I told her.

“Thank you,” She smiled. “Sounds like she’s in good hands with you Lainie. I’d better go check on my son My husband is dropping off her twin brother Ethan. And they can both be a handful.” I laughed.

“I know the type,” I chuckled. She smiled before heading off in the direction of Sy’s cabin. When I looked over there was a boy, and an older man standing outside talking with him. Emma’s mother joined them. The boy had blonde hair just like the girls. Must be her brother I thought. I didn’t have much time to watch as two more campers and their family’s arrived. One whos name was Nicole she was also a camp alumn been coming just as long as Emma. It didn’t look like they knew each other very well though. Must not have been in the same cabin before. Nicole was a spitfire. Right out the gate. She walked right in claiming her bunk signing her name on the wall next to it, another camp tradition. She dismissed her parents right away as well. They stopped and talked for a bit but they’d done this before they didn’t have many concerns. The other girl was much more timid and shy. She reminded me of myself my first year of camp. She was about a year or 2 younger than the other girls. Her name was Ryleigh. She was quiet when she introduced herself. Her mother talked to me about concerns of her being social and making friends. She was worried about her. I understood that. But I also understood the way that this place had a tendency to open people up and make them feel safe. What I told her was. I’d keep an eye on her. She’s gonna have a fun summer. I promised that. Another hour had gone by and all of my campers had arrived. I had 8 girls in my Cabin. I welcomed them all and gave them each their sign to put up by their bunks.

“These are so cool!” Nicole said excitedly quickly climbing up to her bunk and taping it up immediately.

“I like these!” Emma said, “Is it okay if we add more drawings or sketches to them?” She asked. I nodded

“Absolutely they’re yours to do whatever you want with!” I smiled. “But if everyone is all settled in I think the boys are ready to meet up with us. Are you ready to meet everyone?” They were pretty excited to get things kicked off by this point most of the girls had been to camp at least once. They were ready to get the summer started.

Sy and I had decided that we would meet up on the lawn and just sit out on the grass as a group to start things off. When we walked over Nicole immediately ran over hugging one of the boys, must be old friends. They immediately sat next to each other in the grass as Sy and I told everyone to form a circle.

“Alright,” Sy spoke loudly getting everyones attention. “First we’d like to introduce ourselves. The boys have met me but ladies, I’m Logan, a lot of people call me Sy. I’ll answer to either one.” He smiled. I looked over and a couple of the girls were whispering to each other. I knew that face. I’d been the one making it years ago. Probably even still now. They thought he was cute. It’s so innocent those camp counselor crushes. I’d been there too. Once when I was 13 we had this counselor his name was Tanner. He was really nice and he played guitar and he sang. I was a sucker guys that were into music. I just smiled to myself, and realised it was my turn to talk.

“We’re so excited to have you all here, I’m excited to meet all of your boys as well Sy! I’m Alayna but for most of my life and especially around here, everyone has always called me Lainie. Sy and I are so happy to be back here, we were campers ourselves but it’s been 7 years since we’ve been to camp.” I said. I stifled a laughed watching a few of them try to do the math in their head to calculate how old we were.

“My family and I have been coming to camp since my dad was a kid,” Sy added. “I’m sure there are things that have changed since we’ve been here but there are some traditions that never wil!” He smiled. “You guys ready to kick off this summer?” They all cheered excitedly.

“Okay,” I spoke. “Some people love this and some people don’t but there are 16 of you, there’s no faster way for us to learn all of your names and you who you are than some icebreakers.” a few of them groaned. “I know, I know we’re gonna make this as painless as possible, we were campers too remember? We went back and tried to find the games we had the most fun doing.

“Everyone know how to play 2 truths and a lie?” Logan asked. Most of them nodded but we still explained the rules as a refresher. “But after we all guess.” He added. “We want you to talk a little bit more about one of your truths to us. Or explain why you chose that lie.” That seemed to really pique their interest. Beckett one of the boys in Logans cabin started the game.

“Alright,” he started. “I’m a lifeguard, One time when my friends and I were on a college campus tour we played a pick up game of football with some of the college players. Or as a senior prank we stole our math teachers car.” Everyone started laughing. This kid had charisma. I could already see some of the girls eyes getting all dreamy. He was funny too. Sy was going to enjoy having him as a camper.

“Did you still graduate?” Emma laughed. “No way you did that and didn’t get caught!” she said.

“I graduated,” He nodded smirking proudly.

“What position did you play?” Sy asked, talking about football.

“In school I was wide receiver.” He answered. A few of the others went around asking questions. And then we all made our guesses. We all for sure thought he was lying about the car.

“We got to sit in the stadium and watch them practice.” he said about the football. “But we didn’t get to play. I’d love to play in college though!” He added. The boys started laughing and the some of the girls shook their heads.

“No freaking way,” Nicole said “How’d you pull that off, How’d you steal the car?” He smiled proudly, this guy was going to be our camp clown for sure.

“One of my buddies TA’d for him and he would ask him to get stuff for him out of his car sometimes. So we came up with the idea that when he asked we would meet down there and move it to the student parking lot. He was a super chill guy. He thought it was funny! After he found his car anyway!” We all laughed. The game continued on. They all had a lot of fun with it. Some of them coming up with really strategic lies. Or just basic stuff they wanted us to know about them. It turned out great. It was Ryleigh’s turn last. I could see she was nervous she’d been avoiding going the whole time.

“Uh, I’m Ryleigh,” She spoke softly. “I’m in band, uh I-I really like to read, and one time in middle school I won a rollerskating contest at our roller rink,” She was playing with her fingers looking at the ground.

“What’s your favoirte book?” I asked her. She looked up for a second giving me a nervous smile.

“Uhm Thousand Words by Jennefer Brown,” She said. I smiled

“I’ve read that Its really good!” one of the girls said. I watched her face light up a little bit.

“What instrument do you play?” Sy asked.

“I play guitar.” She said. He nodded giving her a soft smile. One of the boys asked about the roller skating thing and a few other questions and we all guessed.

“I don’t think you roller skate,” Ethan, Emma’s twin brother said.

“I do!,” she smiled surprised she had fooled most of us. “I’m actually not in band. I do play guitar though! My dad taught me.” she said.

“That’s so cool!” Beckett said. “Did you bring your guitar with you? You could totally play at campfire!” He said. She blushed and nodded slightly.

“I did.” she said.

“Sweet!” He smiled at her.

Our afternoon was going really well. We talked to the kids about what things they wanted to make sure we did as a group this summer. What traditions were important to them. The boys were so excited to help Logan start planning for the prank war. At somepoint we were going to play flashlight hide and seek. That was always fun. We always set that up right after it started to get dark. They wanted to do a camp fire breakfast. We made them promise they were going to get up early to help us with it. But they were mainly just excited to hang out with their friends and do whatever we had planned. They were such a great bunch of kids. It always seemed like no matter the generation. We always reverted back to a state of innocence when we were at camp. Leaving technology behind and just being present.

It was turning out to be a perfect first day. We had the kids make their name tags and were playing a few more group games before dinner. But just as we were finishing up our last game it started to sprinkle. We gathered everyone up to head over to the dining hall and the sky let loose. It started to rain steadily. We all ran over from the Cabin’s making it inside just before it started to down pour.

“Well,” Logan said from behind me making me jump, He chuckled. “Didn’t mean to scare ya darlin, but I bet they cancel the welcome campfire tonight, it’ll be way to wet now.” He said. I nodded.

“That sucks. Some of the girls were looking forward to it. They had friends in other cabins they wanted to see. I had no idea it was supposed to rain.” I said.

“Yeah, I was checking the weather on my way in yesterday. Could Possibly turn into a pretty rough thunderstorm.” He added.

“Oh,” I said softly, biting my lip. I hated storms. Especially at camp. The cabins always felt so small and so thin. Like they wouldn’t hold. It was the one time I didn’t feel safe. But I played it off. “Guess we’ll be inside the rest of the evening then!”

During dinner they did infact announce that they were canceling the big welcome camp fire. It was for all the age groups at camp to welcome everyone all at once. And then each night each of the age groups had their own campfire. But we’d be doing neither of those things tonight. So much for the perfect first day. After dinner we decided to run over to the rec room. There was a pool table, and darts. Foosball, card games, board games, all of the inside entertainment we would could ever hope for. A few of the other cabin groups decided to head there too. So the campers had a lot of fun. Most of them reunited with old camp friends and made some new ones. Some of them sat down to play some pretty intense card games or board games. Some just chose to sit and talk. I was feeling really good about our first day. But then I saw Ryleigh sitting by herself. My heart broke for her. I understood how having anxiety could make these situations so difficult. I was just about to go talk with her when Sy approached.

“She’s a real sweet girl,” He said.

“You noticed too, huh?” I asked. He nodded.

“Yeah, hate to mention it but, kinda reminds me of you, in our days here.” He said.

“I was just thinking the same thing. I was gonna go talk to her, see if there’s anything I can do to help.” I sighed.

“Not yet, give it a minute.” He spoke. I raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” I questioned.

“Just trust me, give it a minute.” He smirked crossing his arms. I stared at him confused for a moment. What did he know that I didn’t. But it very quickly made sense.

“No you guys go ahead and start the next round I’ll be back,” I heard one of the boys say from the table where the campers had a big Uno game going. It was Beckett I watched as he stood from the table and nervously ran his hand through his messy hair. But then his demenor switched as he put on a charming smile and a confident mask. He walked over to where Ryleigh was sitting on a beanbag in the corner doodling on a piece of paper. He plopped down next to her.

“Whatcha doin?” He asked her. She jumped startled not expecting anyone to be there.

“Just, sketching…” she answered.

“You draw?” He asked. She shook her head.

“Not really but…” I stopped listening. Letting them have their own conversation. I wouldn’t want someone to eavesdrop on a moment like this if I were her.

“How did you…?” I trailed off. Sy chuckled. His shoulders shaking with laughter.

“He noticed her a while ago. I’ve been watching him try to work up the nerve to go over there for the last 10 minutes.” he laughed. I smiled.

“Wait, so you think he likes her?” I asked.

“Oh, he definitely likes her. If the military taught me one thing. It’s how to be observant. He’s had his eye on her since we all met up this afternoon.” he smirked.

“That’s so cute,” I smiled

“I was the same way with you!” He admitted. I almost choked on air.

“I never noticed that,” I said. He shook his head smiling.

“Yeah, cause you were so quiet and stuck in your own head to realize what was going on. You didn’t even realized you liked me back until the second year we were at camp together.” He laughed.

“You did NOT like me first!” I argued.

“Did too, Just because you didn’t notice doesn’t mean it wasn’t true.” He smirked. I opened my mouth to argue but there was a loud crack of thunder making me jump. I swallowed hard and looked down at the floor trying to hide the panic in my eyes.

“Still don’t like storms huh?” He questioned. I bit my lip looking up at him and shook my head.

“Hate them,” I said. Another roll of thunder and I felt myself tense. Sy put his hands on my shoulders making me look up at him.

“It’s arlight we’re safe inside.” he assured me. I nodded. He and I walked over and sat with a few of the other counselors talking for a bit and keeping an eye on our campers. About 20 minutes later the weather alert went off on the radio in the rec room. We were under a severe thunderstorm warning. We could hear the rain pounding against the roof. My heart pounded in my chest. And the thunder was getting closer. Louder. 5 minutes later. The power went out.

Sy immediately jumped up to take control of the room.

“Everybody stay calm,” He spoke softly. I heard a zipper and some rustling. He’d pulled out a large flashlight from his bag. One of the counselors walkie talkies went off. Sy lifted his to his ear to listen.

“Okay guys, just relax we’re gonna stay here until the storm lets up. Hopefully the power comes back on. Until then weve got some lantern flashlights to set up around the room. Just keep hanging out we’re alright.” He assured them. Sy and one of the other boys counselrs went into a supply closet finding the LED lantern lights they had 5 of them and set them out throughout the room illuminating it just enough for the kids to see and still be able to play cards or board games or talk. Some of the girls were a little nervous so I put on my best brave face to go over and talk to them.

“Are you sure we’re safe in here?” Emma asked. I nodded.

“We’re shielded from the storm and there aren’t many windows in here. We’re perfectly safe.”

“I hate this.” another girl said.

“I know, it’s not fun but it’ll,” another loud crack of thunder and I jumped. My breathing shaky, “It’ll.. It will uhm…” I started but I couldn’t get the sentence out the panic starting to take over.

The girls both had nervous looks on their face. I was worrying them. Shit. I suck at this.

“It’ll pass soon and we’ll head back to the cabins for the night.” I heard Sy say behind me. His hand softly pressed to my lower back. “Don’t worry we’ll get out of here and right back to all the fun stuff tomorrow.” he gave them a reassuring smile.

They nodded. And I felt Logan gently leading me away. There was a small hallway that was out of the way and he pulled me to the side. “You alright?” He asked. I shook my head starting to feel myself shaking.

“I-I can’t I can’t do this. I, how am I supposed to help them when I’m too scared myself and, I just I hate this.I feel like I can’t breathe!” I sniffed. He pulled me into him wrapping his arms around me gently shushing me.

“Shhh it’s alright. You’re gonna be okay.” He said, holding me to him. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” He soothed.

“I’m sorry.” I breathed.

“Don’t, it’s alright.” he whispered. “Just keep breathing for me,” He talked me through it. And when I calmed down we walked back out sitting on one of the couches again. I stayed quiet a moment watching the room.

“Sy,” I spoke finally. Just as I went to thank him his radio was going off again. We were cleared to head back to the cabins. The heavy part of the storm had passed but it was still raining. We ran back and Sy and I parted on the lawn getting our campers settled. He got the boys back to his cabin and they settled in. He made sure they all made it back

“Alright boys I’ll be right back I’m gonna go check on the girls make sure they all made it!” he told them. He ran over across the lawn and knocked on our door. I answered quickly and let out a deep breath when I saw it was him.

“You girls alright?” he asked.

“Yeah!” some of them answered. I smiled

“We’re okay.” I said softly. He smiled and nodded for me to join him out on the porch. I turned back to the girls “I’ll be right back ladies, go ahead and get ready for bed, lights out is in 30 minutes!” I told them. I closed the door behind me. And let the sceen door slam shut.

“Are you okay?” He asked after a beat of silence.

“Yeah, I am,...Thank you for helping me back there,” I said.

“This isn’t our first storm together honey,” He smiled. “I’ll always be there to help ya.” I blushed.

“You’ve always been such a gentleman. You’re mama raised you right.” I smiled.

“Nah, just with you, comes naturally,” He said. I felt my cheeks heat up even more and I looked away trying to compose myself.

“So, was that…all?” I asked. He stepped closer to me until I was leaning against the picnic table.

“No,” He smiled. “There’s one other thing.” He brushed his thumb over my cheek his eyes staring down into mine. I couldn’t take it anymore. We’d drawn this out for too long. 7 years too long. I wrapped one arm around his neck the other hand gently resting on the back of his head pulling him down to me. He responded immediately pressing his lips to mine. His other hand found my waist pulling me close holding me against him. All of the air left my lungs as I kissed him back with everything I had. I whimpered softly when he pulled away.

“Shit, “ He smiled breathless. “Only took me 7 years but I uh..” He breathed “just wanted to kiss you goodnight.” I nodded still cathing my breath smiling so hard my cheeks hurt.

“One more for good measure?” I asked blushing. He smirked. And pulled me in again kissing me softer this time. It was slow and sensual. He leaned his forehead against mine when he pulled away.

“A man could get addicted to that,” he said. I smiled slowly trailing my hand from his should and down his chest.

“I wouldn’t mind.” I laughed. He chuckled and pecked my lips one more time.

“Goodnight Darlin’”

“Goodnight, Sy” I watched him run through the rain back to his cabin and I stood their for a moment regaining my composure before I went back inside. Just as I was about to open the door. I heard the one of the girls say

“No, I’m serious you guys I think they’re married!” it sounded like Nicole

“Nikki, Neither one of them is wearing a ring!” Emma said.

“Okay well dating at least, They’re like super in love! You should’ve seen them in the rec room! I had to pee and they were in the hall by the bathrooms. He was like holding her it was so cute!”

“Aww that’s so sweet, she was definitely scared! I felt so bad!” One of the other girls, Chloe added.

“I know, OH MY GOD! Do you think they’ll let us call them Mom and Dad? Remember last year when we had Carrie and Andrew and they were married? That was so cute they literally treated us like their kids!” nicole squealed.

“I hope so!” Emma said “I really like them! They’re both so nice, and I really hope they’re dating if they’re not they need to be, because they’d be so cute together!” I chuckled to myself before opening the door and they’re attention turned to me but they went quiet.

“Okay girls gossip time is over! Time for lights out!” I said. They groaned.

“Okay but wait, are you and Logan Married?” Nicole asked.

“Nicole do you see a ring? What did I just say? But you two are dating right?!” Emma added. I chuckled to myself and shook my head.

“Goodnight girls.”

“Ugh fine be like that girl,” Nicole pouted.

“Goodnight Lainie!” Emma called.

“Goodnight,” Ryleigh said softly. The rest of the girls settled in and I turned out the lights and climbed into my bunk. I bit my lip and smiled to myself holding in an excited. Squeal. Maybe this was still the perfect first day after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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