#only two chapters left

[cinlat]

Blood in the Breeze: Ch 19 (End Times: Pt 2)

Parts one and two of this series linked.

Read every chapter on FFN or Ao3.

Summary: Shit hit the fan. Now for the cleanup.

Chapter Word Count: 3,257 Chapter Rating: T Author’s Note: Whole chapter under the cut. Better formatting on Ao3.

Odessen Alliance Base Landing Platform 0500 Hours

Jorgan's lungs burned in a desperate plea for air. Grey crowded the edge of his vision, and only the drumming of his pulse kept rhythm with the speed of his feet. Don't trip, he repeated like a mantra, occasionally sprinkling in silent prayers of, Be alive, damn you.

From the moment Fynta had hit the ground, Jorgan had started running. He focused on his breath, on the uneven ground beneath him to keep from snagging his boots on the ripped soil. There was no room for the debilitating fear in his heart, only the constant, agonizingly slow movement forward. He wouldn't think of the raw power that erupted from Vaylin in her final moments, or the fact that his wife, a human with no previous Force ability, had stood before the mad child's psychic storm. He couldn't dwell on the knowledge that it hadn't been his wife, and for a fleeting moment, Jorgan had considered pulling the trigger.

The clank of boots on metal jarred Jorgan's senses. He stumbled, caught himself with one hand on the decking, then continued running. By the time Jorgan reached Fynta, she was kneeling with Kaeto's head in her lap.

Others milled about, starting the tedious process of clearing the debris and tending to wounded. They gave Fynta a wide berth, casting awed glances that turned to fervent whispers as they passed. It wasn't until Jorgan drew closer that he realized why.

It felt like hitting a wall. His frantic pace came to a sudden halt, forcing Jorgan to acknowledge the pain in his joints and burning in his chest. He pushed forward, only to be repelled. Ripping his helmet off, Jorgan opened his mouth to shout when a hand rested on his arm. "Wait."

Jedi Master Notiac Carlo stood at Jorgan's side. Her head tilted as if listening to something. Jorgan pulled free and started forward again. Felix appeared on his other side, gripping Jorgan's shoulder. "Trust the process, brother. This is above our paygrade."

"That's my wife," Jorgan snarled, but he didn't shake Felix away. The man had traveled with the fabled Barsen'thor. He knew things Jorgan couldn't imagine. It didn't make standing down easier.

"She is stabilizing," Notiac whispered, one hand swirling through the air as if playing with smoke.

From the opposite end, Arcann moved closer. Jorgan's senses came alive, every hair on his body rising in warning of a long time enemy. Felix's fingers tightened on Jorgan's shoulder. "Just a little longer."

Jorgan bared his teeth at the young emperor, tracking his movement across the landing platform, through the barrier that kept him locked out. The man stepped with caution, waving his mother back when she moved to join them. Jorgan couldn't hear what was said, but he saw Fynta's shoulder's tense when Arcann squatted by her side. Their lips moved, then Arcann lifted Kaeto from Fynta's embrace and walked back towards his mother. At Senya's command, two Sith moved in to collect Kozen's body, presumably to perform last rights elsewhere.

"She is ready," Notiac whispered.

Felix released Jorgan, and he took a step forward. Though the invisible wall had faded, a sense of rage buffeted Jorgan's mind. A peak at the temper he'd known lived inside Fynta all along. Now, it was being nurtured by the most powerful bastard in the galaxy.

Finding his steps unhindered, Jorgan closed the distance at a run. He slowed the last few feet, instinct warning him not to touch her yet. "Fynta." She gave no response, only stared at her hands where they rested on her thighs. Jorgan knelt beside his wife, resting one hand on the back of her neck. "I'm here."

"You never left." Fynta's tone rang empty, and when she looked up, Jorgan saw the same bone deep weariness in her eyes that he'd seen all those years looking back at him in the mirror. "I heard you, but I couldn't—"

"It's okay." Slowly, Jorgan eased Fynta closer until his arms encircled her and his chin rested on the top of her head. "It's over."

Fynta winced and pressed the heel of one hand to her right eye. "Damn shabuir won't shut up."

"What is he saying?" Lana appeared from thin air, as was her way. Theron and Zolah weren't far behind. Together, they encircled Fynta so that she was cut off from prying eyes.

"He wants me to go to Zakuul." Fynta hissed and squeezed her eyes shut. "To take the throne."

Jorgan's snort ruffled Fynta's bangs, but it was Zolah who spoke. "Take her home." The spy's gaze never wavered from Fynta's face. Though her tone was cool, Jorgan heard sympathy behind it. "People think she's invincible at the moment. Let's use that as long as we can."

"While harsh," Theron interjected, "She's right. Fynta needs to walk away before she falls apart. The Alliance needs this win."

Jorgan wanted to snap at everyone to move back, to leave his wife alone, but Fynta beat him to it. "Help me up," she whispered into Jorgan's chestplate. "I can't feel my left leg."

Looping an arm beneath her, Jorgan leveraged Fynta to her feet. The first couple of steps were wobbly, and her prosthetic gave out numerous times. "Something fried the circuitry," she concluded as they entered the main hangar.

A slow clap began at the back of the room, rolling closer as Jorgan and Fynta hobbled through the building. Someone let out a shrill whistle, which ignited a volley of cheers. Verin and Torian stood at the entrance to the base, soot smeared and proud smiles tinged with sadness as they watched their sister move through the crowd. Noara had one arm wrapped around the clan leader, and it looked like she might be holding him up as much as Jorgan was Fynta.

Cormac's tear streaked face came into view next, with Tayl balanced on his shoulders. Jorgan looked instinctively for Shillet, but she found him first. The girl slammed into them, her spindly arms wrapping around the necks of both Fynta and Jorgan. "You survived," she whispered, then stepped back and wiped her eyes.

Fynta chuckled and aimed a weak punch at the young nautolan's arm. "Never a doubt."

Concern crossed Shillet's face, but Jorgan shook his head when she looked at him. Plastering on a watery smile, Shillet slipped under Fynta's other arm. "You look like you could use a shower."

"And a long ass nap," Fynta added. She stumbled as they turned the corner, leaving the crowd behind with members of the War Council acting as shields.

"I'm about to do something you're going to hate," Jorgan warned as the echoes of cheers grew more distant.

Fynta glared up at him. "Don't you fucking dare. I can walk."

Jorgan stepped in front of Fynta and scooped her into his arms. It had been years since he'd lifted her like that, and that time hadn't been kind to either of them. Jorgan's back cramped and his knees grumbled, but he ignored them. "Shillet, get the door."

"I'll get even," Fynta complained, but she held still.

By the time Jorgan made it to their apartment with his burden, he was dizzy from the strain. Gone were the days of the young Cathar who could deadlift his wife. He was old and beaten down. So was Fynta.

Shillet palmed open the door, and Jorgan all but dropped Fynta onto the sofa. There was no way in hell he'd make it up the stairs. "Shillet, grab a water, will you?"

While the girl moved to comply, Jorgan bent to remove Fynta's armor. Shillet offered the water to Fynta, then wrung her hands. "I want to help with the clean up."

"No." Jorgan didn't look up from the fastenings of Fynta's boots. He didn't have to sense the agitation from his daughter. Glancing back, he pinned Shillet with the same glare that had failed every other time before. "There are dead bodies, roaming Knights, and rogue Skytroopers. It's too dangerous."

"I won't leave the base." Shillet looked to Fynta for help, then squared her shoulders and mirrored Jorgan's glare. "I can help."

The growl building in the back of Jorgan's throat faltered at Fynta's touch. He looked from his daughter to his wife, both so alike despite having spent a lifetime apart. Fynta offered a weak smile. "Cormac will keep her safe. He and Verin are making the verd'ika clear rubble as penance for sneaking off."

"Fine." Jorgan ground the word out. Shillet's lips split into a sharp toothed grin. As she turned to run back to her friends, Jorgan snagged her skinny wrist and tugged her into a hug that was too tight given the armor he wore. Shillet didn't complain. "You don't leave Cormac's side, got it?"

"Got it." Shillet kissed Jorgan's cheek, gave a thumbs up to Fynta, and started away again. Jorgan ruffled her head tresses as she went, watching until his daughter vanished through the door.

Fynta groaned as she pushed herself further into a sitting position. "You did a good job."

"It was a team effort." Jorgan thought back to the Havoc Squad he'd lost at the Spire. Of the gentle way each and every one of them imprinted a part of themselves on the girl. Shaking the old memories away, Jorgan faced his wife. "Come on, let's get you out of this armor."

Odessen Alliance Command Personal Quarters

Fynta's skin tingled like tiny flames dancing under the surface. Ever since Vaylin's death, Valkorion had jumped in and out of view, pausing time only to hurl Fynta back into the stream of movement. Her stomach heaved and it felt like her bones itched. Helping Shillet escape Jorgan's overprotectiveness had been as much for her as it had been for the girl. As Zolah pointed out, Fynta had just done the impossible, she couldn't break with witnesses. Not even family.

Jorgan pulled Fynta's boot off, then switched to examine her prosthetic leg. It sparked when he shifted the foot, sending a jolt through both of them. Cursing, the Cathar snatched his hand back. "We need to have that looked at sooner than later."

"If we leave it alone, it can wait until later," Fynta replied with a poor attempt at levity. Jorgan didn't laugh.

"Some new dings in the armor." Jorgan was avoiding the main problem. The ticking bomb in Fynta's head. "Maybe—"

"You didn't take the shot." Fynta knew he had it. She remembered the pain in his voice, begging her forgiveness. Fynta had been too far gone in Valkorion's power to respond, but she'd known he was there. I forgive you, she'd tried to say. Being removed from the instance, Fynta realized Aric's voice was the only thing that had kept her grounded in reality while lightning raged around her.

Jorgan's hands slipped on the buckle of Fynta's leg plate, then he resumed unfastening it with more concentration that was required. "Couldn't." It was all he had to say. Fynta never expected Aric to put a bolt through her, but she didn't know how to convey that in words. She was so damn tired, so damn electrified.

Hooking a finger under Aric's chin, Fynta bent down to meet his lips to hers. He went rigid at first, then cupped her face to add a gentle sweep of his tongue. With their foreheads pressed together, Fynta felt some of the tension in her body ease. Jorgan closed his eyes. "I thought—"

"Me too." Fynta had been ready to die. She'd always known it was a likelihood of facing Vaylin. And when Kaeto and Kozen's bodies had been dumped before her, nothing else mattered apart from ripping the little bitch to pieces. And then, she'd lived.

Aric pressed another chaste kiss to Fynta's lips, then went back to removing her armor. While he was bent forward, she slipped her fingers into the catches on his chest and back plates, letting them fall away. They continued undressing one another in silence, until only the clingy under armour remained. Jorgan settled on the sofa behind Fynta and pulled her against him.

"We should bathe," Fynta suggested even while the warmth from his body soothed her aching muscles.

"In a minute." Aric's arms tightened. Fynta didn't struggle. She had a feeling there would be time for that later.

Odessen War Room 13:00 Hours

Theron's back slammed into the wall. He put one hand on the fist gripping the front of his shirt while holding the other palm out to show submission. "Okay—okay. Look, before you hit me, hear me out."

"Make this good, Shan." Fynta stood behind her husband, the one currently pinning Theron to the cool and impassable stone. The flatness with which she addressed him was almost as unsettling as the sharp teeth inches from his face.

Theron had known Jorgan for a long time. He'd been on the receiving end of one of the Cather's punches before. That was nothing compared to the feral rage emanating from him now. After all these years, Theron finally saw what had first attracted Fynta to the grumpy bastard. She'd always had a taste for danger.

Theron avoided looking into the unnaturally bright eyes in front of him and craned his neck to see Fynta. Her arms were folded, mouth set in an unfamiliar frown. He'd known her longer, hell, he was half the reason she was here. Not just out of carbonite, but captured in the first place. If Theron hadn't put Fynta's name up for Garza's special assignment more than a decade ago, well, she'd probably be dead. She'd been on a self destructive path, and the snarling Cathar had saved her. But, it had all come at a steep cost.

"I know what you're thinking," Theron began. Fynta lifted a brow, and Jorgan's grip tightened. Theron blew out a breath. "It's risky, I know. But Oggurrobb has ironed out the kinks that Garza couldn't."

"Well, if Oggurrobb says it's safe—" Fynta pinched the bridge of her nose, then waved one hand. "Let's hear what he has to say, Aric."

Jorgan gave a final shove that made Theron's sternum creak before stepping back. "You heard the woman. Make this good, Shan."

There had never been a kinship between Theron and Jorgan. They'd tolerated each other's presence because the mission required it. It might have something to do with Theron accusing Jorgan of fucking his commanding officer for the wild ride that she was. It had been a poor attempt and building trust in a shared misadventure. He hadn't known at the time they were married.

"If you're done threatening my spy," Zolah drawled. The holo in the center of the table came to life with a schematic that made Theron's pulse quicken. It wouldn't look like much to the average pair of eyes, but Theron thought it was pure beauty. A small device, no bigger than the palm of his hand, capable of harnessing the most deadly power in all the universe.

"Darth Kozen," there was a barely perceptible pause in Zolah's explanation. Theron doubted anyone other than him caught it. "Studied the prison that Major Jorgan brought with him from Nathema. He was convinced that the answers to containing Valkorion rested with the soul inside."

Jorgan folded his arms, scowl increasing, but Fynta looked intrigued. She'd been furious to learn that her husband had stolen the artifact until he'd explained the ingenious idea behind it. Unfortunately, being trapped for nearly a milenia hadn't softened Valkorion's sire's heart. He wanted to bargain, but Kozen and Lana had other plans. Then, they'd lost the Sith Lord, and with him, a large part of their advantage. That is where Theron came in.

"I know things didn't go well when Garza tried this." Theron ignored Jorgan's growl, but the betrayal was still there in Fynta's eyes. She still hadn't forgiven him for his part in the Eclipse Squad incident on Rishi. Theron supposed that was fair. "But, they didn't have Oggurrobb or access to Zakuulan tech."

Fynta held up one hand, and Theron paused. His pulse skittered while he waited for her to shut him down. To his surprise, she only tapped the side of her head. "Should I be hearing this?"

"No," Quinn stated plainly. He'd been against inviting Fynta to this meeting in the first place, but Theron refused to move forward without her permission. He was done keeping secrets from the people who mattered to him.

Steering the conversation away from the details, Theron switched off the holo. "You have to consent to the next part."

Fynta's single brow lifted, and Zolah picked up the line of conversation. "You're aware of the Castellan restraints that were imposed on me?" Now, their commander's eyes widened. Zolah nodded. "Something along those lines."

Huffing out a nervous laugh, Fynta braced both hands against the conference table behind her. "Well, I guess that explains why Vector isn't here."

Vector had been against the plan from the beginning. His trauma from breaking Zolah free went so deep that the man couldn't see the practical value anymore. This could work. "Do you get it now?"

"Enough." Fynta shared a look with her husband, and Theron watched an entire conversation happen in a matter of seconds. Her browns lifted, and Jorgan's mouth thinned into a narrow line. When he sighed, Theron knew the answer had been decided. Fynta nodded to the room and pushed away from the table. "I'll leave you to it, then."

Without a backward glance, Fynta left the room. Theron saw fear in the stiffness of her spine, the lift of her chin. The more composed Fynta appeared, the more out of sorts she was on the inside. Judging by Jorgan's glare, he knew it too.

When the door shut, the Cathar resumed his menacing scowl. "Fill me in, and Shan—make it good."

[dayeongi]

[autistic-lalli]

Sleeping Giants ends next weekend, so this week is a great time to get caught up :)

[arcane-vagabond]

How do y'all wanna celebrate the end of MMATS?

I'm taking suggestions now.

[schemmentigfs]

Sweetening The Deal. (part 10.)

Summary: Melissa Schemmenti and you are enjoying the trip at a calm and domestic pace, until a stop at a local queer bar awakens the suppressed sexual desires that you both feel for each other. The question is, will you give in after so much teasing from the redheaded woman?

tags: @lifeismomentsyoucannotunderstand @lisaannwaltersbra @italianaidiota @kukikatt @dopenightmaretyphoon @schmentisgf @pitstopsapphic @jeridandridge @aliensuperst4rr

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9.

The days in the villa unfolded with a blissful simplicity. The pace was slow, unhurried, a quiet rhythm that matched the tranquil surroundings. The sun, ever-present and bright, hung high in the sky, casting its warm golden rays over the villa, bathing it in a soft glow. Shadows stretched lazily across the terracotta tiles and the lush greenery surrounding the house, the air filled with the subtle scent of blooming jasmine and the earthiness of olive trees. It was a place far removed from the chaos of the outside world—a place that invited you to lose yourself in its beauty and stillness.

Each morning felt like a gift, an invitation to pause, to indulge in the luxury of time, alone together. It was the kind of place where the days could blend into one another, where there was no rush, no pressure. And so, each day felt like an unfolding adventure, even if that adventure was simply curling up in a hammock or making out on the wooden porch with Melissa Schemmenti, allowing the hours to slip by unnoticed while you cuddle and felt the warmth of that sinful mouth.

Today was no different. The residence was just as peaceful as ever. The two of you had decided to spend the afternoon by the lake again, the water still and glimmering in the sunlight. A light breeze swirled around, carrying the scent of the lake and rustling the branches of the olive trees. You had found a hammock stretched between two of them four weeks ago, after a romantic picnic. Their trunks gnarled and ancient, a perfect spot to escape the heat of the afternoon.

Melissa was the epitome of effortless elegance. She wore a black bikini that contrasted beautifully with her sun-kissed skin, her auburn hair loosely tied back in a bun, though a few stray strands escaped, falling playfully over her face. Her black sunglasses sat perched on her distinctive nose–which was characterized by a slightly broad and rounded bridge, with a subtle curve to the tip. It complemented her facial features, contributing to her unique and memorable appearance.

Oh. That nose. Which you bet it knew exactly where you wanted to be. Probably rubbing against your clit while her tongue ran through your entrance and plugged your sweet—

No. Don’t. Focus. That is inappropriate.

The green eyed woman also wore a wide-brimmed black hat, the kind that made her look like she had stepped out of a fucking magazine. She was casually flipping through a vintage Italian fashion magazine, her strong legs stretched out comfortably beside you, the pages of the glossy magazine rustling as her sharp fingers flicked through them with practiced ease.

You, on the other hand, were more comfortably relaxed, dressed simply in a loose, white top that fluttered slightly in the breeze, paired with a pair of boxers that had seen better days. Your hair was tousled from the wind, and your eyes felt heavy from the sun, though you couldn’t pull yourself away from watching her. The sight of her—so relaxed, so beautiful in this setting—stirred something inside you, and you couldn’t help but admire her.

You shifted slowly, the fabric swaying with the movement, and propped your head on her shoulder. Your eyelids fluttered shut for a moment, feeling the comforting warmth of her milky skin against yours, the gentle weight of her arm resting across your body. She didn’t stop reading, but you could feel her fingers move slowly down to rest on your thigh, her hand tracing lazy patterns on your flesh. It was a small gesture, but it felt intimate, a soft connection that was all the more meaningful for its simplicity.

The world seemed to slow down in that second, every sound, every sensation heightened as you sank into the peaceful rhythm of being with her. The birds called out in the distance, their songs drifting through the air like a calm lullaby, the rustle of the hammock rocking back and forth. It was as though time itself had taken a breath, allowing you both to simply exist in the moment, to be there together without the weight of anything else.

Humming, you reached over to a small plate of cheese that sat beside you, your fingers grazing over the edges of the wedge before you offered it out to her. She looked up from her activity, a gentle smile playing on her lips as she took the piece from your fingers, her mouth parting as she chewed, savoring the flavor and groaning about how good it tasted.

“Want more, Lissa?” you asked lazily, hushed and filled with sleepiness, your eyes heavy as you gazed at her.

She grinned, her olive eyes twinkling with a teasing light. She grabbed a piece for herself, feeding it to you with the same gentle care. The moment felt like a shared secret, an intimate exchange in the quiet of the afternoon. There was no rush, no expectations—just the simple act of being together, feeding each other, in this peaceful space. And you couldn’t help yourself from remembering that significant grape feeding session in the jacuzzi.

From what it seemed, feeding each other had become a particular habit of you and the unwavering Melissa Schemmenti. But that didn't bother you, on the contrary. It comforted you, made it clear that it wasn't just a casual thing, maybe it could become something more serious.

You never considered yourself a religious person, but you knew, deep in your soul, that Melissa was a divine gift sent by God just for you. And to be here, with her, felt like heaven itself.

The warmth of the afternoon started to pull at you, the heat of the sun and the gentle sway of the hammock lulling you into a drowsy state. You could feel your eyelids growing heavier, the weight of sleep pressing down on you. You yawned softly, your body sinking further into the comfort of the hammock and the older woman’s embrace.

The redheaded woman, ever attentive, noticed the way your breathing had slowed, the way your body had relaxed against hers. She set the magazine down carefully, giving you a knowing smile as she reached for a soft, woven blanket that had been draped over the side of the hammock. The comfy fabric was light, almost gauzy, but it was warm enough to wrap around you both as the breeze picked up. She covered you gently, her hands brushing over your arm as she settled it around your body, pulling you closer.

“Tired, huh?” she cooed, a gentle caress in the stillness of the afternoon. “La mia principessa ha avuto una lunga mattinata, vero?”

You nodded, your head resting against her comfy and strong chest, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat soothing you. Without another word, your lover shifted slightly, adjusting herself so that her arm was around you, pulling you into her even more. She pressed a peck to the top of your head, her lips lingering there for a moment, a gentle, tender touch that made everything feel safe.

“Take a nap, pretty girl,” Melissa whispered, her rough voice barely audible as you sank further into the cocoon of warmth and comfort she had created around you.

You sighed contentedly, closing your eyes, the sound of the hammock’s gentle rocking and the distant calls of the birds lulling you into a peaceful sleep. The world seemed to disappear, and all that existed was you and her, wrapped in the quiet luxury of this moment.

Time seemed to stretch on, but eventually, as your breathing steadied and you fell into a deep, peaceful sleep, Melissa couldn’t help but watch you for a moment longer. She marveled at the way your chest rose and fell with each breath, at the way the sunlight danced across your face, casting soft shadows over your features. There was a serenity to you now, an unspoken and precious peace that made her heart swell with affection.

But even in the quiet of the moment, her mind was busy, thinking about the evening ahead. She knew it wouldn’t be long before the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. She wasn’t ready to be cooped up in the villa all night. She wanted to take you out on a date properly, to let the two of you have a night adventure.

The older woman shifted, her fingers brushing your cheek as she leaned in closer, pressing her lips softly against your ear. “You know, we should go to that bar in the heart of the town tonight,” she suggested with a hint of mischief. “We’ve been holed up here long enough. And besides,” she added with a sly grin. “I’m pretty sure you’d look stunning under the lights of that bar while dancing with me.”

You stirred, a soft complaint escaping as you slowly opened your tired eyes, blinking up at her. Her face expression was warm, full of intent, and you could see the playful glint in her orbs. You didn’t need to be fully awake to understand the look. You just smiled sleepily, knowing exactly what she meant.

Without a word, you pulled her in for a kiss, then deepened as it went on, the warmth between you growing, a silent promise of what the night would bring. It was the kind of kiss that said everything—desire, love, and that familiar connection only the two of you shared.

You finally pulled away just enough to look at her. “Alright. But only if you promise we’ll get out of here before we do something crazy.”

A laugh bubbled up from her throat. “I promise.”

Hours had passed lazily since the hammock lull, and twilight now embraced the villa, casting shadows that clung to its terracotta walls and seeped through the wide-open windows. The house was heavy, perfumed with jasmine and lingering heat from the sun-soaked day. Somewhere beyond the olive trees, the lake glimmered under a deepening sky, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the scenery when she was here, close enough to unravel you without so much as trying.

Melissa had decided you were hers to prepare for the night scape—a casual suggestion, though it hadn’t felt casual at all when she’d stepped out of the bedroom wearing nothing but emerald green lingerie, the delicate lace hugging every curve of her body. It wasn’t something you could just forget—that image of her standing there with her hands on her hips, her auburn hair in loose waves, and her grin sharp as a blade. She hadn’t said anything at first, just waited, watching as your face burned red.

“What?” she’d drawled finally, dripping with mock innocence as her cold hands slid lazily along her thighs. “Y’never seen a confident woman get ready for a night out with her favorite girl?”

That had been hours ago, and you were still recovering. And still secretly dripping through your lacy underwear. That you knew that at this point was completely soaked and sticky, while your pussy throbbed with nothing. Not a single contact. Waiting for God knows when to be touched and filled up.

Now you sat perched on the edge of the marble bathroom counter, your legs dangling as Melissa stood between your knees. Her body was close—close enough that the heat of her skin seemed to seep into yours. The small space felt alive with her presence, filled with the teasing tilt of her lips and the knowing gleam in her eyes as she did your makeup.

Her fingers were steady as they traced your jawline, tilting your face to the angle she wanted. “Hold still, honey,” she mumbled, though the sharpness of her tone made the pet name sound more like a challenge. Her thumb brushed the corner of your mouth as she worked, smearing the faintest touch of red lipstick there. “Mmm, look at that. A little messy, just like I like it.”

Your breath caught, your heart stumbling as you stared up at her, wide-eyed and stunned. She didn’t even try to hide her smirk as she met your gaze in the mirror, one perfectly arched brow raised.

“You’re—” you stammered, cheeks blazing as you tried to muster a coherent response, though the words wouldn’t come. Melissa always did this—always left you speechless, fumbling under her attention. It was almost infuriating how easily she affected you.

“What?” the green eyed woman teased as her hand slid from your jaw down to your chin, her thumb tracing over your bottom lip—slow, provocative. “I didn’t say anything at all.”

“You’re doing this on purpose,” you managed, your voice a little breathless, though you hoped she wouldn’t notice. “I-I know.”

The redheaded woman chuckled darkly, that low, throaty sound sending heat skittering across your soul. “Doin’ what, huh?” she asked, leaning in just enough for you to catch the faintest scent of her perfume—citrus and spice and something undeniably her. “Standing here? Lookin’ at you? Talkin’ sweet to you?” Her grin widened, wicked and predatory as she straightened up, her hands resting lightly on your bare thighs. “Careful, sweetheart. I’m startin’ to think you might be distracted.”

You glared at her through the mirror, though the effect was somewhat diminished by how red your cheeks had gone. “I’m not distracted!”

“Oh yeah?” she leaned in again, her lips hovering just beside your ear, so close you could feel the warmth of her breath. “Then why are your knees squeezin’ together like that?”

Your face burned hot with shyness, and you let out a strangled sound—something between a laugh and a groan—as you turned your head away from her. “Schemmenti!”

“What?” Melissa prompted, feigning innocence, though the devilish smile she gave you in the mirror betrayed her. Her hands stayed on your thighs, thumbs brushing in soft, maddening circles that made it impossible to focus on anything else. “I’m just sayin’—you’re lookin’ a little worked up for someone who’s not distracted.”

You swallowed hard, trying not to squirm under her touch. “You’re mean to me.”

She laughed again, the sound low and rich as she pulled back just enough to look at you, her eyes dark with something you couldn’t quite name. “And,” she murmured, her fingers curling just slightly against your thighs as she smirked, “you still let me touch you.”

The words settled in the air like a weight, making your pulse quicken as you looked up at her. She was so close, her face hovering just above yours, her expression smug but impossibly fond. Her lips parted slightly, and for a moment, you thought she might kiss you.

But the kiss didn’t came.

Instead, the older woman pulled back with maddening slowness, her grin sharpening as she grabbed a tube of lipstick from the counter. “Sit up straight, honey. I’m not done makin’ you pretty yet.”

You let out a shaky breath, your shoulders slumping slightly as you glared at her through the mirror. “You’re also cruel.”

Melissa smirked, uncapping the lipstick as she leaned in close again, her eyes locking with yours. “I’m not cruel,” she purred, the words soft but deliberate. “I’m just patient. There’s a difference, smartass.”

You gupled, your pulse loud in your ears as you tried to look anywhere but at her mouth. “This is torture.”

“Only if you let it be,” she replied smoothly, her voice dripping with amusement as she traced the color over your lips, the cool metal of the tube a stark contrast to the warmth of her fingers resting on your chin. She pulled back slightly, tilting her head as she admired her work. “There. Perfect.”

You looked at yourself in the mirror—at the way the red lipstick seemed to bring out the flush still lingering on your cheeks, the way your sugar mommy stood behind you with that smug, self-satisfied look on her face, still clad in her emerald green lingerie that left little to the imagination. You were practically vibrating with pent-up tension, and she knew it.

Melissa caught your gaze in the mirror, her smile softening into something gentler as her hands slid down your arms, resting lightly on your wrists. “Relax, cara mia. You’re gonna knock ‘em dead tonight.”

You let out a shaky breath, your lips twitching into a small smile as you looked up at her. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “Because of you.”

The redhead grinned, her hands squeezing yours as she leaned down, her lips brushing just against the shell of your ear. “You don’t even know what I’m gonna do to you when we get back.”

Your heart nearly stopped, and you swore under your breath, shoving her away as you glared at her. “Excuse me?”

She laughed again, stepping back with her hands raised in mock surrender, though her smile was anything but innocent. “What? I’m just plannin’ ahead!”

And as you tried to hop off the counter, cheeks still burning, Melissa leaned casually against the doorframe of the bathroom, arms crossed over her chest as she watched you fumble with your thoughts, still visibly flustered. She looked completely unbothered—stunning, even—as though her lingerie wasn’t a deliberate attempt to test your resolve.

The green eyed woman tilted her head, her curls catching the faint light from the lamp on the vanity. “Alright, doll,” she said, her tone equal parts teasing and commanding. “Fun’s over—for now. Go throw somethin’ on. You’re not showin’ up to the bar lookin’ like that.”

You glanced down at yourself—still clad in the loose boxers and top you’d been lounging in earlier—and sighed softly, though the ghost of a smile tugged at your lips. “You’re lucky I don’t take that as an insult.”

She giggled, stepping closer and cupping your jaw briefly in her hand. Her thumb brushed against your cheek, her emerald-green nails catching the light. “Insult? You look cute, but cute doesn’t cut it for a night out with me.” She dropped her hand, turning toward the bedroom and throwing a glance over her shoulder. “Now, go get dressed before I have to do it for you. And trust me, that’s not a threat—it’s a promise.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, and you didn’t dare hesitate. You slipped into the bedroom, Melissa following close behind as you sifted through the small selection of clothes you’d brought for the trip. She perched on the edge of the bed, one leg crossed over the other, watching you like a predator eyeing prey. The green lace of her lingerie contrasted beautifully with her voluminous red hair, and you swore she was doing it on purpose—stretching lazily, letting her hand trace up her leg as if she were absent minded.

You struggled to keep your focus as you sorted through your options, feeling her gaze on you the entire time. “You could help, you know,” you muttered, pulling out a dark skirt and a fitted tank top.

Now her voice is dripping with faux sweetness. “Oh, I am helping. I’m supervising. You’re welcome.”

You rolled your eyes. “Supervising?”

“Yes,” she responded, leaning back on her elbows, her posture languid and entirely too smug, “that’s ma job. Get used to it.” Her gaze dropped to the clothes in your hands. “That’s what you’re wearin’? Not bad. But…” She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Lose the bra under that tank. Trust me.”

Your jaw dropped, heat rushing to your face. “Melissa Ann.”

“What? I’m just sayin’. It’s the bar, honey, not Sunday mass,” she quipped, her grin sharp and unrepentant. "Besides, you’ll look fuckin’ hotter. Don’t tell me you’re shy now, not after the way you’ve been starin’ at me all damn day.”

You turned away, fumbling with your clothes as you struggled to maintain composure. The redhead was relentless, and she knew exactly how to get under your skin. Still, you followed her advice—against your better judgment—and slipped into the outfit, leaving the bra behind. When you turned back toward her, her olive eyes raked over you with unabashed appreciation.

“Jesus Fuckin’ Chirst,” Melissa cursed, sitting up straighter and giving a low whistle. “I knew you’d clean up nice, but this…” she let her words trail off, shaking her head as she stood and crossed the room to you. “You’re gonna get Mommy into trouble, baby.”

Her proximity and the nonchalant way she referred to herself as Mommy set your heart racing again, especially when she reached out to adjust the strap of your tank top, her fingers brushing against your bare skin. You looked up at her, your pulse hammering in your throat, and she grinned, leaning again as if to kiss you.

But just as her lips were about to meet yours, she stopped, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Not yet,” she whispered, her voice low and full of promise. She pulled back, grabbing her dress off the nearby chair and slipping it on with practiced ease, the green lace disappearing beneath the fabric but still leaving little to the imagination.

“Fuck you,” you groaned, though your voice lacked any real bite.

“Soon,” she shot back, tossing you your shoes. “Now, c’mon. The night’s not gettin’ any younger.”

The drive to the bar was a lesson in restraint—or lack thereof. Melissa Schemmenti sat in the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel and the other draped lazily out the open window, her hair catching in the breeze as the warm Italian night settled around you both. You, however, were anything but relaxed. Every time you glanced her way, all you could see was the faint outline of that green lace beneath her dress, teasingly visible whenever the headlights from passing cars illuminated the thin fabric.

She caught you staring—of course she did—and shot you a sly grin, her pearly white teeth catching her bottom lip as if she were savoring the way she was unraveling you. “You’re quiet over there,” she started, her voice casual but her tone sharp with amusement. “Thinkin’ about somethin’, dolcezza mia?”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and looking out the window to avoid her knowing gaze. “Nope.”

“Liar,” she teased, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Bet I know exactly what’s on your mind.”

The rest of the ride was a torturous compilation of her teasing remarks and your increasingly futile attempts to ignore the magnetic pull of her presence. The bar came into view soon enough, a neon sign flashing with a promise of something familiar and safe—well, safe for some. The queer bar had always been a sanctuary, a place where both of you could be yourselves without fear of judgment, but tonight, it felt like something more. The way Melissa was looking at you, the way she had been looking at you all night, made it feel like there was a charge in the air, an unspoken promise that tonight wouldn’t be like all the others.

Melissa pulled into a spot effortlessly, shutting off the engine and glancing your way, her green eyes catching the streetlights just right, making them glitter like emeralds. She smirked, the corner of her mouth tilting up in a way that made your breath hitch.

“Ready, bambi?” she asked, her voice smooth, but there was a softness beneath it that made you wonder if she was asking about more than just walking through those doors.

You nodded, swallowing hard, and stepped out of the car, adjusting your dress as she came around to join you. She placed a hand on the small of your back, guiding you inside with a confidence that always left you weak.

The moment you stepped inside, the pulse of music washed over you, deep and rhythmic. The crowd was packed, bodies swaying, the air thick with the scent of sweat, perfume, and something else entirely. Probably a deep desire. The lights were dark, casting shadows and forms over the faces of the people around you, but it was the way they moved—fluid, uninhibited—that caught your attention. You felt the beat reverberate in your chest, and before you could even think about it, Melissa’s hand was on your arm, pulling you toward the dance floor.

She stood before you on the center of the dance floor, her body moving effortlessly to the rhythm. The green lace of her lingerie peeked through the low-cut dress she’d thrown on earlier, teasing you, mocking you with how perfectly it hugged her figure. Her auburn hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, catching the light, and her lips were curled into a mischievous smile that made your pulse race. She looked breathtaking, the kind of woman who could steal the air from a room just by being in it.

You weren’t sure how you ended up this close, your bodies swaying in tandem as the crowd moved around you. Her hands were on your waist, her fingers splayed wide as she pulled you closer. The space between you was almost nonexistent, her breath warm against your skin, her movements slow and sensual. You felt like the only two people that mattered in the room.

The music swirled around you, but all you could hear was the sound of your breath, sharp and fast as Melissa pulled you closer. The crowd was a blur, their movements lost to the heat that was building between you and her. The tension between you two had been simmering, a slow burn that threatened to erupt the moment you were alone. But here, on the dance floor, surrounded by the thrum of music and flashing lights, it was different.

The redheaded woman’s hands slid lower down your back, her fingers tracing the outline of your spine, pulling you into the rhythm, into her. But it wasn’t the usual playful teasing. No, there was something else. There was a weight in her touch, a depth in her gaze. She wasn’t just here to have fun, to flirt. She was here for something more.

“Listen to me carefully,” she signed softly. “I don’t want to play this game anymore.”

You froze for a moment, not sure if you’d heard her right, if the heat of the moment had clouded your perception. She pulled back slightly, her eyes catching yours with a clarity that made your heart race. The mischief was still there, but underneath it, you saw something else. Something real. Something you hadn’t expected.

“What are you talking about?” your voice was breathless, your hands gripping her arms instinctively, desperate for her to pull you back in.

Melissa shifted, her gaze darkening with intent, and her digits threaded through your hair. “This, us,” her voice lowered now, edged with a kind of certainty you hadn’t heard before. “It’s not just about me being your sugar mommy and you being my sugar baby anymore. It's not casual.” She said the words with a kind of conviction that made your pulse quicken. “I want something real with you. I want to be your girl, and I want you to be mine.”

You blinked, the words sinking in, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The world around you was nothing but a dull background, the music nothing more than a distant throb. All that mattered was her—her eyes, her words, the way she was looking at you. There was no playful teasing in her gaze anymore. No mask of mystery. Just raw, unfiltered emotion.

“You want… me?” you asked, the words coming out unsure, but your heart pounding with hope, with anticipation. Could this be what you both wanted? What you both needed?

Melissa smiled softly, almost shyly, and you could see the flush rising in her cheeks, the warmth of it only making her more beautiful. “Yeah,” she said quietly. "I’ve wanted you for a while now. More than just… whatever we’ve been doing. I want you to be my girl, for real.” She leaned in close, her lips brushing against your forehead as her arms wrapped tighter around you. “No more games. No more pretending.”

You could feel the sincerity in her words, the vulnerability in her touch. It hit you like a wave, overwhelming and intoxicating. All at once, you realized what had been there all along—the slow, inevitable shift from casual encounters, moving to her place, the kisses to something that could be so much more. And you wanted it. You wanted her, just as much as she wanted you.

Your heart raced, but the words came out before you could stop them. "I want that too.”

Green eyes lit up at your confession, a wide, joyful smile spreading across her face. She pulled you even closer, her lips catching yours in a kiss that was soft at first, testing, hesitant. But soon it deepened, growing more urgent, more intense as if everything that had been left unsaid between you was now spilling out in the warmth of that kiss. The world didn’t exist outside of you and her—just your lips pressed together, your hearts beating as one.

When you pulled away, breathless and smiling, Melissa couldn’t help herself. Her happiness was radiating from her, her face flushed, her hands gently cupping your cheeks as if you were the most precious thing in the world. “God, you make me so happy,” she confesses, a little breathless herself, trembling with joy. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

You chuckled, the sound light and free, and wrapped your arms around her, burying your face against her shoulder. “Me too,” you whispered into her skin, savoring the warmth of her body, the softness of her touch. “So much.”

And for the first time since you’d met, you felt like things were exactly how they should be. No more pretending. No more walls. Just you, her, and the promise of something real.

She held you tight, her arms wrapping around you like she never wanted to let go. She kissed the top of your head, her lips lingering there as if she never wanted to move again. “This is just the beginning, baby. We’re going to do this right.”

You smiled, content, your heart full as the music thudded around you, reminding you that tonight was the start of something new, something deep, something real. Together, finally, in a way that felt more than just a fleeting moment—it felt like forever.

Hours later, the cool weather wrapped around you as you stepped outside, the faint hum of the bar music fading into the background. The stars above twinkled like they were in the moment, casting a beautiful glow over the cobblestone streets. Melissa’s hand was warm as it slipped into yours, her grip firm but nervous, a surprising contradiction to the confidence she always carried.

She pulled you gently toward a quiet corner, away from prying eyes, pressing your back against the rough stone wall of the building. Her body was close—so close you could feel her heat radiating through her dress. Her lips crashed onto yours, desperate and eager, yet still carrying that familiar softness that made your knees weak.

Hands slid up your sides, fingers brushing against the fabric of your clothing like she was memorizing the feel of you. She kissed you deeply, her tongue tracing over yours with a hunger she could no longer hold back. When you broke apart for air, Melissa rested her forehead against yours, her breathing ragged, her lips red and swollen.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” she grumbled, but there was a vulnerability there, too. She played with a stray strand of your hair, her gaze searching yours as if she was gathering her courage.

You smiled, your own breathing uneven as you ran your hands over her strong shoulders. “Isn’t that what you signed up for?”

The forty five year old chuckled softly, her thumb brushing over your cheek. “Yeah, I did,” she confirmed, her tone more serious now, though still laced with affection. She paused, licking her lips, her hands sliding down to rest on your hips. “Listen,” she began, her words halting slightly, as if she was carefully choosing them. “I—God, I’ve been wanting this for so long, but I didn’t wanna mess it up. I didn’t wanna rush you, or… make you think it’s just about—”

You silenced her with a soft peck, your trembling hands cradling her symmetrical face. “Lis,” you whispered against her lips, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside you. “I want this. I want you.”

Her figure relaxed, and for a moment, she looked at you like you’d just handed her the world. And you did. “You sure?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her hands tightening on your hips.

You nodded, brushing your nose against hers. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

She exhaled deeply, a wide smile spreading across her face, though there was still a hint of nervousness in her eyes. “Then let me do this right,” she said, her tone soft but full of conviction. She kissed you again, slower this time, like she was savoring every second. “Let me take you back to the villa,” she murmured between kisses, her lips trailing down your jaw to your neck. “I wanna make love to you—properly. No rush, no interruptions. Just us.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, and you pulled her closer, your hands clutching at the fabric of her dress. “Take me home, babe.”

The drive back to the villa was a quick blur, your hands never leaving each other, stolen glances turning into soft touches that set your skin on fire. By the time you reached the front door, poor Melissa was fumbling with the keys like a horny teenager on her first date. She cursed under her breath when they slipped from her hands, muttering. “Damn it,” as you tried not to laugh.

Once inside, the house was bathed in the glow of the moonlight streaming through the glassy windows. The older woman barely gave you a chance to look around before her hot lips were on yours again, pressing your delicate figure against the door as it clicked shut. This kiss was messy and passionate, her hands framing your face like she couldn’t get enough of you.

Her movements were rushed, yet there was a tenderness in them that made your chest ache. “I’m—” she started, pulling back slightly, her cheeks flushed, her breathing uneven. “I’m trying to be smooth here, but I feel like an awkward loser.”

You couldn’t help but smile, your fingers brushing over the curve of her jaw. “None of that,” you said, your voice steady despite the way your heart was pounding. “Just… be you.”

Melissa’s smile softened, her hands settling on your waist as she leaned in to kiss you again. This time, it was slower, her lips moving against yours with a kind of reverence that made your breath catch. She guided you toward the bedroom, her steps hesitant yet purposeful, her thumb rubbing gentle circles against your hip.

When you reached the bed, she paused, her eyes scanning your face as if she were committing every detail to memory. “I want this to be everything you deserve,” she says with sincerity. “You mean everything to me, and I need you to know that.”

Your chest tightened at her words, and you cupped her face, pulling her into another kiss. “It already is,” you murmured against her lips, your hands slipping into her hair.

Melissa let out a shaky breath, her hands trailing up your back as she held you close. For the first time that night, she let herself relax, her smile widening as she pressed her forehead to yours. “I’m so damn lucky.”

You laughed softly, your hands resting on her shoulders as you kissed the tip of her nose. “We both are.”

Red lips never left yours as her hands slid down your sides, lingering at the curve of your waist. The air in the villa felt electric, charged with anticipation and something deeper—something neither of you had said aloud until now. Her fingers curled around the hem of your top, her lips brushing against yours as she murmured. “Can I?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You nodded, your throat too tight to speak, and her lips curved into the gentlest smile before she pulled back slightly. Her green eyes searched your face for any hesitation, and finding none, she slowly lifted the fabric over your head. Her palms were steady, but her breath hitched when more of your skin was revealed, the sight of you making her momentarily forget herself.

“Shit,” the redhead muttered, her voice thick and reverent. Her gaze traveled over you like a caress, lingering on every curve and hollow, her cheeks flushed with color. “You’re… God, you’re beautiful.”

Her words sent a wave of heat rushing through you, and you couldn’t help but tug at the straps of her dress in response. “You’re one to talk,” you whispered, your voice shaky but teasing.

Melissa smirked, a flicker of her usual confidence shining through as she shrugged the dress off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a soft heap. The green lingerie she’d been wearing earlier clung to her curves, the delicate lace doing little to conceal her body. The way the moonlight spilled over her made her look ethereal, almost too good to be real.

She caught your gaze lingering and tilted her head, a wicked glint in her eyes. “You like it, huh?” she asked, her voice low and teasing as she took a step closer, her hands settling on your hips. “I picked it just for you, ya know.”

You swallowed hard, your hands sliding up her arms to rest on her shoulders. “It’s not fair,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, your fingers curling into the straps of her bra. “You’re making it really hard to think.”

Melissa chuckled, the sound deep and warm as her hands began to explore your body, her fingers tracing the lines of your collarbone, your shoulders, your waist. “Good,” she said simply, her tone turning serious as she pressed a kiss to your jaw. “Because I don’t want you thinking right now. I just want you here, with me.”

Her hands moved to the clasp of your bra, her touch gentle but sure as she unhooked it and slid the straps down your arms. The garment joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor, leaving your torso naked except for the soft glow of her gaze.

Your lover took a shaky breath.

“You’re perfect,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly as she leaned in to kiss you again. This time, her lips were softer, slower, the kiss carrying all the things she couldn’t say out loud. Her hands began to work on the waistband of your underwear, her fingers brushing against your skin and sending shivers down your spine.

You mirrored her movements, your hands finding the clasp of her bra and undoing it with a nervous but determined touch. The green lace fell away, revealing her fully to you, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp at the sight. Melissa’s confidence faltered for a moment, her cheeks flushing as she looked down, thinking you were disgusted seeing her curvy self, but you tilted her chin back up with gentle fingers.

“Don’t,” you said quietly. “You’re so beautiful, baby.”

Olive eyes softened at your words, and she leaned into your touch, her forehead resting against yours. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything as much as I want you right now.”

You kissed her again. “Then show me.”

Melissa let out a shaky laugh, her figure trembling slightly as she slid your underwear down, her lips trailing kisses along your shoulder and collarbone. When you were completely bare, she took a step back, her eyes scanning your body with a reverence that made your cheeks burn.

“You’re killin’ me here,” she murmured, shaking her head slightly as she tugged at the waistband of her own underwear. Her movements were more hurried now, the anticipation getting the better of her as she slipped out of the last piece of fabric between you.

When she finally stood in front of you, completely bare, there was a moment of stillness, the air between you heavy with unspoken promises. Melissa reached for you, her hands finding yours and intertwining your fingers.

“Are you sure?” she asked again.

You nodded, stepping closer until there was no space left between you. “I’ve never been more sure of anything,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside you.

The older woman pulled you into a deep embrace, her arms wrapping tightly around you, holding you as if she never wanted to let go. Your naked chests pressed together, the warmth of her skin against yours making you both shudder in unison.

A soft moan escaped her lips when her erect nipples brushed against yours, one of contentment, longing, and the tiniest edge of nervous excitement. You mirrored her, your breath hitching as her fingers skimmed along your back, grounding you in the moment.

“I’ve got you,” Melissa promised, her breath fanning against your ear. The assurance in her tone made you relax into her touch as if anchoring yourself.

She pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, her green ones flickering with something unspoken yet deeply understood. Taking your hand, she laced her fingers through yours and began to guide you toward the bed, her steps slow, deliberate, as though she wanted to savor every second.

The bedspread was cool under your skin as she helped you settle, and for a moment, she simply stood there, her gaze roaming over you with a reverence that made your heart race. Then, with an almost timid smile, she climbed onto the bed, her movements fluid but hesitant, as though she were balancing her confidence with the weight of the moment.

Melissa straddled you, her knees bracketing your hips as she leaned down, her hair falling like a curtain around your faces. Her lips found yours again, hungry and seeking, and you couldn’t help but whimper into the kiss, your hands instinctively reaching for her waist.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” she whispered in awe, her philly accent wrapping around the words in a way that made your stomach flutter.

Her mouth left yours to trail along your jawline, featherlight kisses that sent sparks skittering across your skin. When her lips found your neck, she lingered, her tongue flicking out to taste the sensitive pulsepoint there. You gasped, your fingers tightening around hers as her free hand steadied itself against your side.

“It’s alright,” the redhead woman calmed you . “I’ve got you, baby. We are safe.”

You closed your eyes, your trust in her complete, letting the world narrow down to the sensation of her lips, her hands, her presence. Melissa’s kisses grew more insistent as she worked her way lower, her tongue leaving a trail of heat in its wake. When she reached your collarbone, she nipped lightly, drawing a loud moan from your mouth.

Manicured hands found yours again, lacing your fingers together once more, grounding you as she continued their journey. The weight of her above you was comforting, intoxicating, and you felt your breath hitch again.

The green eyed woman paused for a moment. “Tell me if it’s too much or if you want to stop, alright? I don’t want to leave you uncomfortable or anything.”

“It’s not,” you managed. “I trust you.”

Emerald orbs softened at your words, a blush creeping up her cheeks that made her look younger, more vulnerable. “Good. Because I’m gonna take my time with you.”

Melissa’s body was squeezing and crushing you gently as she resumed her exploration. Her red lips were gentle against the center of your chest, each kiss soft and slow, as if savoring the warmth of your skin. Her breath fanned over you, sending a shiver down your spine as she trailed lower. She kissed over your collarbone, her lips lingering in delicate adoration, and you could feel her pulse against you, steady but full of anticipation. Her digits lightly grazed your sides, as though tracing every inch of you as if it were a map of something she longed to know more intimately.

“Please,” you begged when she finally reached the curve of your breast.

She hesitated for a heartbeat, her breath trembling, before her lips brushed against your delicate nipple. The sensation was electric, and a quiet gasp escaped your lips as her mouth opened slightly, her tongue nursing the sensitive peak.

Her eyes flutter closed as if lost in the intimacy of the act, her auburn hair cascading around her face like a curtain. Her lips moved with genuine care, pressing kisses that alternated between tender and teasing, her tongue tracing lazy circles that left you begging for more.

You could feel her sigh and whine against you, her breath shaking uneven, as if she were savoring the connection just as much as you were. She pressed another kiss, soft and reverent, before her lips began their slow descent lower.

“Melly..”

The redheaded woman’s mouth trailed along your ribcage, licking out to taste the softness of your stomach, leaving a path of warmth in her wake. Her hands, still entwined with yours, tightened briefly, her thumb brushing against your knuckles as she shifted slightly to hover above you.

“My beautiful girl. So precious to me.” Melissa continued her journey, pausing to kiss the slight dip of your navel, her soft pink tongue darting out in a playful flick that made you squirm.

Continuing the exploration with a slight shift, she dipped lower, her messy hair brushing over your thighs as she found the sensitive flesh just above your mound. She kissed you there, a lingering touch of her mouth that sent a wave of heat rushing through you. Her eyelids fluttered as she pressed against you again, this time with a reverence that made your chest tighten.

“Ti voglio bene più di quanto tu possa immaginare,” the eldest spoke in her mother language, her accent wrapping around the words like a caress. “I want you to feel how much.”

Her kisses grew softer but no less fervent as her mouth lingered just above where your body ached for her most. It was as if she was savoring the anticipation, drawing it out in a way that left you trembling beneath her touch. Her every peck, her every breath, was an unspoken promise of everything she wanted to give to you—and everything you already meant to her.

Impatient, your hand that was trembling slightly, slid into her fiery red hair, your fingers curling around the silky strands as you gave the lightest tug.

Quickly, her olive eyes flicked up to meet yours, filled with desire and something deeper—love, reverence. She tilted her head slightly, her lips parting as though she was about to ask a question, but you didn’t give her the chance. Instead, your fingers tightened in her hair, guiding her lower with a soft but commending pull.

“Please, my love,” you whimper breathless, your need undeniable. The sound of your plea seemed to unlock something in the unstoppable Melissa Schemmenti, and her gaze softened, a flush rising to her cheeks as she obeyed you without any complaint.

“Do you want me to taste you?” she questioned with that teasing edge you’d come to know so well.

You nodded quickly, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. “Fuck yes. I need you, so bad.”

“Good Girl.”

Next Chapter.

[slamongflobo]

playing yakuza 3 !

[buttercupshands]

rewatched Kurogiri's holiday story from ultra impact (not related to sketch at all)

(but it did inspire me)

on another note

finally!!

[harpygee]

The Duke's in the Hot Seat this week! Harpy Gee time! https://www.harpygee.com/comic/podunkello-history-lesson-101-pt5

💚Current Update / 💚Archive / 💚Start from the Beginning

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[isbergillustration]

Something something becoming a city

[lbhslefttiddie]

the qiong ding peak disciples 100% have petty beef with lbh for stealing their favourite didi lmao

they're not gonna Actually beat him up (without Reason) but they're very emphatic about how thoroughly they WILL if lbh messes with sy. it's like a shovel talk that never ends

sy isn't actually completely oblivious to whats going on but he doesn't get why they're like this and he thinks theyre being fucking stupid (and he trusts them to not actually bully binghe) so he's elected to ignore their antics entirely

[i-suc-at-art]

Ummm.. I really love this fic

*hands @basilf1res this gently*

Any ways go read project “GH05T” it’s really good :)

[sugarpasteltmnt]

pspspspsps sorry everyone but probably no chapter this weekend as i will be traveling tomorrow and handling some work+family stuff for a few days ;w;

[souenkun]

Judging from these panels, would it mean that there's no other yorishima exorcist that's still alive (since natori said that the yorishima family "was once" a big name, past tense) in the canon timeline, and that the yorishima we know probably ended his family's exorcism business for good by retiring himself? If so, was the reason tied to the youkai living in his left arm, or is there another cause? And when exactly did he retire— was it before or during seiji and shuuichi's high school days, which was why his left arm appeared with the thick bandages when he gave them the loquats in the anime, but he still lived in the estate during that time, or was it after the two became legal adults, which lined up somewhat with him moving into his forest home, abandoning his family estate in favor of living in isolation?

And, speaking of retirement, I wonder if we'll ever know why midorikawa told us that the takis were "famous" (which presumedly meant they were strong enough to be well-known) as occult diviners, since tooru herself only ever mentioned what their previous family business entails, and never about their status in the exorcism community? We don't really need this extra bit if she wanted to further establish how tooru has an aptitude for spell-casting, either. Again, there's another "strong" family (whose members are still alive in canon) that went into retirement, but did the taki family lost their power because the ability to see (if they were needed for diviners) disappeared for at least the last three generations (if we assumed that tooru and isamu's parents couldn't see youkai too), or was it due to another reason? How close was shinichiro (tooru and isamu's grandpa) to the matobas that even the current clan head came to pay his respects during his sixth death anniversary; was his relationship with seiji's father strictly resolved around exorcism business, or was anything else involved? Does tooru herself doesn't fully understand the prowess her family once had, hence why seiji was the one who told takashi (and us readers) about it? What would this tiny bit of lore mean for tooru with it revealed this late into the manga, when tooru herself only talked sparsely about her ancestors in previous chapters?

[honeyjars-sims]

3.39 Decent Proposal(s)

The Spring semester was drawing to a close and while Chantal aced her exams as usual, she wasn't feeling any more motivated to continue her schooling than she had in the fall. When Kayla suggested they meet up to chat, Chantal hoped for an opportunity to discuss her friend's business plans in greater depth.

Chantal's wish came true: Kayla told her that the ideas Chantal had shared with her a few months ago had been a big inspiration to her. She now had more clarity about what direction she wanted to take her company in and she was almost ready to file the paperwork to get things started.

Chantal's heart sank a bit until Kayla explained there was one thing she was waiting on.

"I don't want to use your ideas unless you can profit from them, too," she said. She made Chantal an offer--either she could pay Chantal for the rights to her designs, or Chantal could become a partner in her business.

"Of course, if you don't want me to use your ideas at all, I'll go back to the drawing board," Kayla assured her.

Chantal thought about it. She knew she didn't want to sell the rights, but starting a business was a big risk. She would likely have to put her schooling on hold for something that might not ever get off the ground. Still, she couldn't turn down an opportunity to do something she'd been dreaming of her whole life. She gleefully accepted Kayla's offer to become her business partner.

Chantal wasn't the only one with something to celebrate. Cece finally graduated from university. She was ecstatic to finally be able to join Ben on tour and become an official member of his band.

After the ceremony, Ben and Cece shared a meal with Cece's family. She couldn't help but notice that her usually easy-going boyfriend seemed a bit more nervous than usual.

After dinner, he suggested he and Cece take a walk. He lead her down to the water's edge and just as the sun began to set, Ben got down on one knee.

Ben looked into her eyes. "Cecelia, being away from you has made me realize how much better life is with you by my side. Will you marry me?"

"Yes!" she squealed. Cece wasn't usually one for big displays of emotion, but tears of happiness were forming in her eyes.

"I love you, Benjamin Coleman."

"And I love you, Cecelia Fields-Haim."

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[bluerosety-blog]

I can't with this lol! 🤭🤣

Aww Kacchan's smile reminds me of Izuku's! 😖💕

Heck yeah! I'm ready to have my heart broken, who's joining me! 😌 (Omg not I am not, Hori please!) 😭🙏

[purple-nightfall-writes]

chapter 11 of ruffled feathers is out now!

grian and scar have an important conversation