#wait a minute is Tumblr fucking up my outline format

[deadchovsky]

Ok nvm more yapping under the cut. Tumblr is my diary and baby, I'm writing in pink glitter gel. Ignore this <3

I'm formatting this like greentext bc its funny

Big Font.

😨

Ddo you like Wilbur soot. Cuz I do

Anyways:

>be me on NYE

>one of my friends asked me to take a picture out of this end of year video thing I post on my 15 subs youtube channel every year at the end of the year.

> he says because his phone screen is visible and hes worried about what's on it. Says it might be some rp server he was on at the time the picture was taken and thinks it could he embarrassing. (This is important remember this.)

>I zoom in on the picture, it literally looks like a black screen.

> he says hes still worried about someone seeing it

>okay whatever. I try my best to remove this picture that last for like 2 seconds out of a 15 minute long video. (Sidebar, this picture was already in a different video months ago and he was fine w it then and literally has never brought up removing it from that video once.)

> I save changes to the video

> "okay I think I got it, but there might be like .5 seconds of it still, bc YouTube's editing thing sucks"

> he says its fine, because it's a 15 minute long video and the longest that clip is in there for is like. A singular second.

> 2 months later

> be me

> this mf hasnt talked to me, or basically any of my friends since new years.

> guy literally dropped out of the play despite wanting to be in it since September

>guy is literally in all 4 of my classes and hasnt attended a single one since the second day of the semester.

>I'm walking around the school bc the gender neutral bathrooms are closed, so I'm going to the least scary girls bathrooms near the front of the school.

> guy and one of my friends show up and stop me in the hallway.

> friend: "hey guy needs to talk to you."

> me: "bro I have to piss rn can it wait"

> apparently not.

> Guy: "I know you don't understand why I feel this way" (most condescending tone possible)

> turns out changes didnt save in YouTube video and the picture is still in the video for literally 0.003% of the entire runtime.

> tells me to remove it because he thinks that he was "texting his mom about his attempt at the time"

> picture was taken a month before the attempt. also he told me it was the rp server the first time I tried to remove it.

> ok whatever. I say I'll remove the picture.

> interaction is very awkward(mind you we're standing in the middle of a high school hallway while hes telling me all this) I leave and go piss

> I go back to class after pissing

>friend (who was with guy) says that was the first time guys talked to her in a few weeks.

>I show her the picture on my phone, bc I feel like I'm going crazy. The phone literally only looks turned on bc you can see a slightly outline of a white keyboard. Not to mention the photo is BLURRY.

>friend confirms that you can't see fucking shit on the phone in the picture.

>thank god because I thought I was somehow wrong for thinking you cant see shit

Also, bro saw that video that the picture was in once, freaked out bc he thought you could see his rp server in it, then tried to tell me TWO MONTHS LATER (and almost 10 months AFTER the picture was taken and posted in a different video THAT HE SAW) that he was talking to his mom about a suicide attempt in there. I didnt even remember about that bro how tf did he manage to keep that in his brain for two fucking months. Get different meds you fucking dweeb like oh my god. Clearly whatever you're on now isnt working.

[peppy-pilot]

My headcanons regarding Peppy in Star Fox Adventures/Dinosaur Planet:

Fuck no I’m keeping his decrepit and raspy 200-year-old man voice. If he’s going to have an old voice, it’d be the reasonable, warm, and emotional voice he had in Assault, albeit with 64 or Zero’s Southern accent. Or better yet, he’s still Rick May. Rest in Piece, Rick May. You’ll always be Peppy Hare in my heart. And I mean, it works--Rick May would have been around his 70s when he last voiced Soldier in Expiration Date I believe. And he still kicked it with that rough and hearty voice. So no, I refuse to accept 34-Pack-A-Day Peppy Chris Seavor gave him. Take it or leave it.

Yes, age is a factor; he fought in battles and various missions when he was still in the Cornerian Army and prior to Pigma’s betrayal with the original Team Star Fox. Stress and war does that to you. And at 49, you’re not a spring chicken (rabbit?) anymore. With that said, as the peaceful years are rolling in after the Lylat Wars, and with Lucy as an adult with her own life, the decades of trauma constant war-time stress is finally showing up on Peppy. His stepping down from the Arwing has less to do “hurr hurr I’m an old wrinkly sack of shit” and more “my body can’t take this anymore, boys, being your parent is stressful enough, let me rest, dammit.”

Related to this as a major factor as to why he stopped (actively) piloting: his vision is failing him. I mean, it was Adventures wherein Peppy started wearing specs and hasn’t stopped until Zero (and that’s a reboot where he’s younger and prettier again lmao). Being a pilot, especially in space, requires exceptional vision, and Peppy is hardly as sharp-eyed as he used to be. In addition to his body being unable to handle the stress of piloting, Peppy declines using apparatuses that could have helped him with his failing vision in the cockpit to just give his head a rest through regular spectacles. I’m going to put that this is also why he opts for specs as opposed to contact lenses too.

And in general, the older you get, the more you body can’t handle stress anyway. I previously headcanoned Peppy as someone with chronic hypertension, and as a young 30-something adult who has had been in work environments where I was enduring enough stress to push my blood pressure to levels wherein I’m just a few numbers away from needing to go to the emergency room, YEAH. I’m in my 30s; at 49, a slight number change can easily land Peppy in the hospital. Peppy’s blood pressure literally can’t take being in the cockpit anymore. Yes, he’ll hop in for the occasional backup and emergency, but as an active member of the team, he’s ready to give his heart a rest and be an advisor from the Great Fox.

It was an old passion he had in his youth, but between being a pilot and a Saurian researcher, he chose to be a pilot. But the passion for Saurian history, culture, and geography was still there, just as a secondary thing. By the time the Lylat Wars was over and Team Star Fox was no longer receiving as many jobs as they used to, Peppy decided to take advantage of his downtime to research on Sauria as as hobby. This ended up advantageous when Sauria fell into pieces and Team Star Fox was tasked to help out.

As for the differentiating verses if he stays in the Great Fox or goes planetside on Sauria:

Great Fox: His health is at a point he can’t actively join Fox on the ground. Simple as that. He was probably constantly sick at that time. I mean, it took me almost a week to recover from my highest points of hypertension, so imagine that for someone nearly twice my age.

Sauria: He has managed his health enough to camp and explore Sauria on foot. He keeps his health in check often enough to know when to slow down and when to keep going. Otherwise, at 49, while he may have a bad back and can’t run, climb, and jump around like he used to, he’s still very strong and can climb a mountain without breaking anything if given enough time and patience. He communicates with Fox and Slippy via commlink as he explores Sauria. Personally I’d prever Slippy to accompany Peppy wherever he goes (Slippy is still young, what’s your excuse to stay on the Great Fox, bro? >:V ), but given this is Tumblr RP, I’m okay with Peppy striking it out on his own and whomever are my RP partners. If anything, this excites me because this would give Peppy a great opportunity to explore his character more at this stage of life.

And there you have it. Got anymore to ask about, contest, or just comment on, feel free to hmu with an Ask.

[bangchanswolfpelt]

Since we both like analysing, I'm having an issue. Why is it that I'm finding it harder to write about my bias in a group than about other members?? Shouldn't it be the other way around? TXT being the most recent example, I've already written 2 things for Yeonjun, 1 for Beomgyu and 1 for Soobin (not yet posted). I really wanted to make something for my main boo Tae Tae but all i seem to be able to do is drool over aesthetic edits. It's not like I haven't got thoughts in my brain, they just don't want to to come out! What do you think?

yooooooo, my roommate and i have talked about this a little, actually!! we realized that when we watched reactors, they were more likely to be really vocal about their bias wreckers and it was really hard to tell who their actual bias was until they said it outright, and then we looked at our own conversations and like—you'd never be able to tell she was Hobi-biased with the way Joon makes her loudly and frequently wish for death. in the same vein, if you show me unfair selcas from my wreckers (lookin at YOU JK, Soobin, Changbin 😤), you'll get a good twenty-minute diatribe of anguish and fury, whereas if you show me how beefy Yoongi has gotten or Yeonjun being... Yeonjun, i'll just. sigh a sigh that comes from deep in my old, brittle bones and go lay face down in the dark for half an hour.

and that's just in terms of general fannish behavior, but i think it can definitely apply to writing, too—Soobin isn't actually my bias, but you'd NEVER be able to tell from skimming my blog, and as much as i love to yell about my inbox being full of Soobin-fuckers, i am definitely a part of the problem 😔😭😂

i feel like there's a lot of factors that go into it—for me personally, the stuff i want to write for biases tends to be more ambitious (please don't ask me about my multi-chapter genderfucky Yoonji epic, i'll cry if i think about it too hard 💀), and when you're writing about your bias you're also gonna hold yourself to a higher standard than usual, and that combo of big goals/perfectionism definitely makes ME a less productive writer.

i think it's also a lot easier to get caught up in little details when you're writing/thinking about your bias, just because those details are so enjoyable to linger on—watch me spending half an hour going through pretty pictures of Wonwoo because how am i gonna write my secret werewolf romance if i don't know the exact color and style of his hair???? 😭 or me watching the wolfgang stage five times in a row as """inspiration""" for my 80k werewolf Bang Chan epic and then being too horny and distracted to actually write the damn thing 💀

if you want like, actual writing advice, tho

i think this has been the single most helpful thing i've read, re: actually getting stuff written

stop giving a fuck about stuff like quality and coherency, and just worry about getting stuff down, on paper or on a screen. if you have a lot of ideas running through your head throughout the day, but they all seem to disappear when you actually sit down to write, then don't wait for that time to sit down to get them down. pop open the notes app on your phone or a lil notebook to keep on hand to jot them down as they come to you; i know other people use voice notes, and those people are braver than any fuckin marine. figure out what works for you, and don't be afraid to change things up and try new methods! i have folders upon folders in scrivener because i'm a slut for organization, but i'll also sometimes write in already-queued tumblr posts to put pressure on myself.

when i'm writing anything longer than a few paragraphs, the easiest way for me to make it happen is to outline it in bullet points, just the bare bones X happens, then Y happens, then Z happens. when i get to the parts where i'm more ~inspired~ it definitely turns into some real ass writing shoved into a bulleted list format, but there's also points where it's like "oh no fight gets real ugly and cutting, actual feelings getting hurt??? ;(" or "somehow they go from yelling on opposite sides of the room to uhhhhhhh fucking on the desk, idk we'll figure it out later." it's clunky and rough, but it's a skeleton that i can start to build off of, and fleshing out and dressing up a full page of mediocre outlining is a lot easier than just trying to shit out a full page of brilliance on your first try.

idk, a lot of the stuff that's made me a more productive writer is just making myself let go perfectionism and reminding myself that the point of writing (for me, at least) is for fun and for other people to read, and neither of those things happen when i spend days agonizing over two sentences. i think the real trick is figuring out what is keeping you from writing, and working from there to make writing an easier process for yourself.💕 i know you've got the words in you, boo, you just need to figure out how to get the faucet unstuck so they can flow.💕💕💕

[bastardreynolds]

ooh 13 or 18 macdennis for the prompt 👀

original prompt post

13.   “No, that’s not how you do that”

18.   A new mattress

i’m something of a loose canon and so combined these two prompts into one fic. enjoy this utter chaos. 

fic after the “keep reading” break but i would prefer if u would read here on ao3 because tumblr fucked up the formatting and got rid of all my italics, which imo add to the tone in important ways

Mac and Dennis Buy a Mattress

“So you’re telling me,” Dennis says. “That your mattress just spontaneously caught on fire?”

Mac shuffles awkwardly in his seat. “Yes.”

“And you expect me to believe that?”

“I’m not lying, dude. I was just minding my own business, thinking about God, checking out our new flamethrower and –”

“Wait, so you were using the flamethrower inside?”

“No, that’s –”

“You realise that you actively doing things to cause the fire doesn’t make it spontaneous, yeah? You do understand what the word spontaneous means?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t do it, Dennis!”

Dennis raises an eyebrow and Mac glares at him.

“I’m just asking you to check the bank account to see if we’ve got enough for a new one. Also, my room smells like burnt mattress so I’m gonna crash in your room tonight.”

Mac suddenly can’t look Dennis in the eye, but simultaneously pushes himself further towards Dennis’ end of the couch.

“Check it yourself, asshole.”

“You know that I always forget the password for the internet thing.”

“My god!” Dennis is getting increasingly exasperated. “My god, fine! Also I know we don’t have enough, because you spent all our goddamn savings on the flamethrower, which you then used to set your mattress on fire!”

Mac pouts, and fixes Dennis with a look that is completely and utterly pathetic, but still has its desired effect, making Dennis give in and say, “Fine. Fine, I’ll ask Frank. Also, we’re getting the new one today, because I don’t want you sleeping in my bed.”

Two hours later at the mattress store, Mac and Dennis stand facing a rows and rows of beds. Mac’s hands are resting on his hips and he’s glaring at the overwhelming number of options in front of them like he’s resisting the urge to whip out the flamethrower and make the entire store spontaneously catch fire. Dennis slings his arm around Mac’s shoulder, to make sure he doesn’t run off and do something dumb.

“Where should we start?” he asks Mac.

Mac’s frown deepens. “I didn’t think it’d be this complicated. Last time I bought a mattress –” he pauses to think. “Actually, my old mattress was just your old mattress when you upgraded.”

“Okay, well,” Dennis starts to lead him toward some of the mid-range queen mattresses. “My personal recommendation is this one. Perfect balance of hard and soft, and optimal bounce for banging.”

Mac ducks out from under Dennis arm and sits down on the mattress, bouncing gently to test Dennis’ assertion. “I don’t know dude, I feel like it needs more bounce.”

Dennis chortles. “No, no, no, Mac. Trust me, when you’re plowing a chick, this mattress is perfect.”

Mac hums, but doesn’t seem convinced.

“Okay, let me show you,” Dennis says, because it’s really the only option left. “So I’m the girl in this situation,” he says as he climbs on and lies in the middle of the mattress. He pushes himself up on one elbow and looks at Mac. “Now come straddle me.”

“What? Why, dude?”

“Trust me.”

Mac shrugs and moves towards Dennis. When he’s kneeling beside him, he grabs Dennis’ waist and tries to roll him over. “What are you doing?”

“Rolling you over, duh.”

“Why? That’s not how you do this. What are you –”

“Well if you’re a chick I’m gonna roll you over,” Mac says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I don’t like seeing their front. It wigs me out.”

Dennis blinks. “You don’t like seeing the faces of the girls you bang?”

“It’s not the face so much as the,” Mac gestures vaguely at his own front, and Dennis thinks it’s maybe meant to indicate tits and things that make it clear that Very Gay Mac is fucking a woman.

“Okay, whatever. Just don’t roll me over, okay.”

“But if you’re the girl –”

“Then I won’t be the girl, I don’t care. Just straddle me, it’s important.”

Mac does as he’s told and swings his legs over Dennis waist, settling comfortably at the top of his thighs.

“Now,” Dennis instructs. “Feel how easy that was. And notice how the mattress gives way just the right amount under your knees.”

Mac nods. “Dude, you’re right.”

“And then, when you thrust, the girl – the uh, the other person –”

“A hot chick.”

“Yeah, whatever. The other person, they also get a fantastically sensual experience, because the physics of the mattress are perfectly in tune with the thrusts of an expert sexual partner.”

Mac places his hands either side of Dennis’ head, lifts his hips, and then thrusts down, and repeats several times. “I can see that.”

Dennis notices Mac’s boner, but doesn’t comment on it, because he’s kind of used to that shit by now.

“Um excuse me, sirs,” a voice says from behind them. Mac’s head twists to fix the stop assistant with a scowl. “You can’t, uh – do that on the display mattresses.”

“Buddy, I’m doing your job for you right now,” Dennis rebuts. “Do you want a sale or not?”

The shop assistant doesn’t reply, and just sort of gawks.

“Well, do you? Do you?”

“I mean – I guess so?”

“In that case, you’re welcome. A good mattress needs to be good for plowing, and that’s what I’m perfectly demonstrating to my friend right now. I’ve basically sold him on it, you know?”

“And he’s right,” Mac adds.

The shop assistant doesn’t seem to know how to respond. “You still can’t – I’m going to have to ask you to dismount – to, uh, to get off the bed.”

Mac rolls his eyes, and pushes himself away from Dennis, flopping down next to him.

“Can you believe this asshole?” he asks.

“I know right,” Dennis responds, turning his head to meet Mac’s eyes.

“I think you’re right about this mattress though, dude. Could definitely get some plowing done.”

“If you’re going to make a purchase can you please do so and leave,” the shop assistant begs.

So they buy the mattress, and after an extended argument at the till decide to waive the $100 delivery cost (which is quite frankly extortionate), because there’s no reason they can’t just strap it to the roof of the Range Rover and drive it home. It turns out it’s harder to secure a mattress to the top of a vehicle than initially thought, but after several attempts, and Dennis taking a trip to the hardware store to buy more rope, they’re relatively confident it’s fine.

“So, I was thinking –” Mac starts, staring up at the mattress.

“You’re not riding home on the roof,” Dennis cuts him off, and Mac frowns.

“Why not?”

“That’s so unsafe, on so many levels. And illegal, probably. And not a thing that grown men do.”

“Think of the core strength I’d need to stay holding on. It’s totally manly.”

“I’m not – we’re not having this argument. Just get in the car.”

They’re half way home, and crossing a bridge over the river when Dennis has to swerve to avoid some piece of shit old lady who obviously shouldn’t be on the road.

“Die quicker, you bitch!” Dennis shouts after her red Toyota, for good measure.

By the time either of them realise what’s happening, it’s too late to stop it. There’s a creak, and a snap, and then the mattress is sliding off the roof of the car, and falling into the Schuylkill River. The whole thing seems to happen in slow motion, but Dennis just sits in the driver’s seat of the car and stares like an idiot as his money (Frank’s money) bops languidly under the bridge.

“Oh goddamnit!”

Frank refuses to give them more money for another mattress (I’m not gonna keep bailing you out every time you throw a mattress in the Schuylkill River!) This is how Mac ends up sleeping in Dennis’ bed.

It’s about two weeks into the whole arrangement, when Mac rolls over to Dennis and asks, “So when you fuck in this bed, are you normally on top or underneath?”

“What?” Dennis asks, blinking and looking up from his phone screen.

“I mean, where does the chick normally go.”

“It – it depends. Depends what we’re doing, what role –”

“But you are on the bottom sometimes?”

“Yes. What does this have to do with anything?”

Mac shrugs. “Was just thinking about it.”

The next night Mac asks, “So what about blowjobs?”

“What?”

“Is the mattress any good for getting head?”

“Yes. For giving head too, but – What are you doing? What is this?”

“I miss my mattress, dude. I bet some homeless dudes dragged it out of the river and are going at it right now.”

Dennis frowns, because not only is that an unpleasant image, but Mac’s questions are also completely bizarre.

The next night, Mac restarts the line of questioning. “And so, for handjobs?”

And then the next night. “Do you ever do butt stuff?”

And the next. “What about just for making out, you know?”

It’s then that Dennis can’t fucking take it anymore. He screams, and then he’s kissing Mac. It’s hot and furious, and he isn’t surprised when Mac kisses him back, arches up against Dennis, breaks the kiss to push Dennis’ shirt over his head.

Afterwards, Dennis’ head is resting on Mac’s shoulder, and Mac’s fingers trace the outline of his spine. “The bounce was pretty fucking great, dude.”

Dennis hums. “I told you so.”

“Gotta try it again though. For the scientific method.” Mac’s words are complete nonsense, and Dennis kicks at his ankles to shut him up, but their legs just end up tangled together.

“And facing you was okay and shit too. I didn’t even know dudes could do it facing each other.”

“Oh my god, will you shut up for one second.”

“I’m just saying it wasn’t how I thought it’d be. Also, I’m pretty sure I’m gay.”

“I know you’re gay, Mac. Everyone knows.”

“Hey, you have no way of knowing for sure that I’m gay.”

“Your dick was in my ass like ten minutes ago.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t prove anything, that –”

“Just shut up and go to sleep or I won’t let you fuck me again.”

Mac is silent for a moment, and Dennis thanks God and Jesus and all of Mac’s Catholic Saints because he just wants to go to sleep.

“You so will let me fuck you again,” Mac says.

“I’m not replying to you anymore.”

“I’m gonna give you a blowjob tomorrow morning, so be ready for that.”

“If you don’t let me sleep I won’t be ready.”

Mac seems to find that argument compelling, because he hums and lays a kiss to Dennis’ hair, and whispers goodnight, before mercifully shutting the fuck up. True to his word, Mac gives Dennis a blowjob the next morning, and they’re late to work, because Dennis drags Mac into the shower with him and returns the favour.

By the time they’ve saved up enough for a new mattress, it’s no longer a priority, or even a necessity really, because even with a second bed, there’s no way that Mac is going to extricate himself from Dennis’ space. And that’s just how it goes.

[thefandomlesbian]

OH... MY... LORD! CAN YOU PLEASE WRITE SOME SUPER SOFT LOVING FOXXAY SMUT FOR THE REUNION THAT HAPPENED TONIGHT!?... LIKE I HAVE SO MANY FEEEEEELLLLSSS! *ps. Not screaming at you, I love you and I'm just super excited!* 😍

This ask has been sitting here since 8x05 came out. I might be a little behind!!

Read on AO3 for optimal experience since, once again, Tumblr ate my formatting. 

“My love, she speaks like silence

Without ideals or violence

She doesn't have to say she's faithful

But she's true, like ice, like fire

People carry roses

Make promises by the hours

My love laughs like the flowers

Valentines can't buy her.” -Bob Dylan, “Love Minus Zero”

...

Late one Friday night, Cordelia left her office for a bathroom break, all of her papers sprawled out on her desk where she had worked on getting her grades in and posted before the end of the semester. Going public with Miss Robichaux’s had increased the amount of witches in her care, and it had also increased the scrutiny the academy faced from the public and the government. After receiving certification to practice as a private school, she had an obligation to keep everything in order, and mid-December brought heaps of bureaucratic hoops to jump through.

It was for the greater good of the coven, she knew, but she felt like she was digging herself an early grave with the many nights of burning the midnight oil and retreating to Misty’s side in the wee hours of the morning only to be up at seven to help prepare breakfast. She hadn’t taken her blood pressure in weeks. She was afraid of what the numbers would tell her. The ever-constant headache and brief, flaring pain behind her eyes followed her like shadows.

Leaving her office, she slipped silently down the hallway into the bathroom. Everyone had vacated the academy for the end of the semester to go home with their families, but moving without making a sound was a habit at this point. On her way back to the office, though, she found the door locked.

The chalkboard on the door was blank, but the piece of chalk picked up from the string, enchanted by someone else’s telekinesis. In Misty’s elegant script, the chalk piece wrote, “Meet me in our room.”

Biting back a sigh, Cordelia crossed her arms and headed up the hall to the bedroom they shared. She pushed the door open. “Misty? I’ve got to get back to work. What do you want?”

She rounded the corner into the room. Across the room, Misty perched on the edge of her white chair, hairy legs crossed. A silky black lingerie dress covered her torso, but around her waist, she wore a strap-on. “Come here. You need a break.”

Tongue like a sponge leeching the saliva from her mouth, Cordelia licked her lips. Don’t. You can’t. You need to get your work done. “Misty…” Her voice was a croak. In spite of her dry mouth, another part of her body was growing wet. “I have work to do.” Misty rose from the white chair and approached her. Misty’s hands landed on her hips. “I need to get the grades in so I don’t have parents or the state government bitching at me.” One hand trailed up her abdomen over her sweater. As Misty’s delicate fingers passed between her breasts over her sternum, she shivered, the hair on the back of her neck standing up. “Misty--” Fingertips brushed over her voice box, admiring the vibrations there, and she cut herself off. Misty tilted her head upward to plant a kiss on her lips.

“Alright,” Misty whispered. “I’ll be here. Waiting.”

“Unlock my office door.”

“You got full access to the torture chamber.”

A grimace flexed across Cordelia’s lips. Part of her wanted to complain about Misty’s choice of words, but she held her tongue. A flame licked down between her legs. Turning, Cordelia walked with a stiff gait down the hallway. Sitting in her office chair felt like sitting on a bunch of pins and needles. Every time she blinked down to the papers in front of her, the letters formed shapes, the outline of Misty’s body, the shape of the strap-on between her legs. “Oh, god…” Cordelia massaged the bridge of her nose. “I’m never going to be able to focus now.”

The red pen in her hand pointed to the same sentence for several minutes at a time while she read and reread it. No matter how she tried to process it, she couldn’t shake the sensation of Misty’s hands from her body where her fingers had grazed.

When she stood up again, no more papers graded than before, and strode toward the bedroom, she thought hours must have passed. Misty waited on the bed with her legs crossed, playing Tetris on her phone with Stevie Nicks rising from the speaker. Cordelia closed the door behind her. Misty lifted her head. “Well, hey, there.” She glanced over to the clock beside the bed. “Half an hour. I didn’t figure you’d make it that long. You decide to take me up on that break?”

“Shut up and take me.”

Misty grinned. “Somebody’s in a rush.” She rolled off of the bed and approached Cordelia. “Come here. Kiss me. I miss you.” She pulled Cordelia close by the hips.

The strap-on jabbed her in the abdomen. “Oh, put that thing away.” Cordelia swatted it away with her hand. “I’m not even naked yet.” Misty laughed and bowed down to kiss her. Slender hands slipped under her sweater and lifted the hem up over her head. Cordelia brooke the kiss to rid herself of her top. “But you’ll fix that fast, won’t you?”

“You betcha.” Cordelia flung herself back at Misty, locking her arms around her body as she kissed from her jaw line down her neck, and Misty returned in kind. Nimble fingers unsnapped her bra and released her from its clutches. She flung it off to the side. “Ain’t you excited?” A broad hand covered each breast and cupped them in her warm palms. Cordelia hitched a breath. Misty’s touch was innocent enough--she didn’t squeeze her breasts or tweak her nipples--but it elicited enough fire from inside of her to make her sink her teeth into her partner’s neck.

Misty’s mouth formed a breathy moan. She masked it by brushing her lips up against Cordelia’s neck. Cordelia’s arms unhooked from around Misty and dipped between her own legs to unzip her pants. She grabbed the hem of Misty’s black silky dress and lifted it off of her. Misty grinned into the side of her neck. At a gentle nudging, she raised her arms for Cordelia to remove the fabric from her skin.

The black silk crumpled in a heap on the floor. Cordelia wrapped her hand around the phallus between them and used it to pull Misty toward the bed. “Come here.” Her voice grew huskier with need. She propped herself up on the pillows. Misty settled on her knees in front of her, hooking her fingers in her belt loops and wriggling her pants off of her rump. Cordelia wiggled to aid her. Left there in her underwear, she strained for another kiss from Misty, but Misty dodged, planting fluttering kisses everywhere but on her lips.

Tender lips landed on the junction between her neck and shoulder and peppered light pecks all over the hard outlines of her collarbones. Cordelia’s breasts turned firm under the stimulus, the nipples pebbling with need, and Misty’s hot, pink mouth wrapped around her right nipple. Her hand grappled with the other breast. The tip of her thumb flicked back and forth over it. Cordelia lifted her pelvis to grind against Misty’s body. The damp cotton of her panties rubbed against Misty’s abdomen. God, I need her.

With the flat of her tongue, Misty licked trails from the base of Cordelia’s rib cage to her navel, sinking her teeth into the delicate fat. She knew better than to leave hickeys above Cordelia’s shoulders where the students might spy them, but Cordelia’s squishy tummy and thighs were fair game for her to leave her mark. Cordelia squirmed as Misty kissed her navel and followed the thin trail of hair from it to the top hem of her panties. Misty’s eyes darted up to hers, and she slipped her fingers below the hem, waiting for Cordelia’s affirmation before she continued. “For fuck’s sake, Misty, take them off!” Misty chuckled. She slid the underwear off of Cordelia’s legs and flung them away.

The heady scent of Cordelia’s arousal rose up. “You smell so delicious…” Misty licked her lips and brushed her nose down through Cordelia’s well-groomed pubic hair. “I’d love to taste you.” She shifted her head to the left and kissed the inside of her thighs. Cordelia lifted her hips up, an invitation for Misty to do exactly what she wanted. Misty grinned. “Aren’t you just a lady?” She bowed her head and pressed her mouth right to the top of the split of Cordelia’s labia. She spread the lips with her middle and index finger on one hand. “You’re wet as the Okefenokee swamp, babe.”

Cordelia bit her lower lip to keep from laughing nervously. “I hope it smells better.”

“Oh, definitely, the Okefenokee swamp smells like--”

“Not right now!”

“Oh, right.”

“Tell me later.”

Misty didn’t waste any more time with comments. She buried her face into Cordelia’s vulva and slicked her tongue upward from her vagina toward the firm, erect bulb of her clitoris. Pleasure shot through her clitoris and went all through her lower body and up her spine. Misty slipped her middle and ring fingers into her vagina and curled them forward to the sensitive spot inside of her. “Oh, god--Oh, Misty!” She arched her back off of the mattress. “That’s so good!” She quivered with desire as Misty wrapped her mouth around her clitoris and sucked, flicking the tip of her tongue over it. “Ugh, I--I’m close--”

She offered the warning, thinking Misty planned to withhold it, but she didn’t let up; her fingertips pressed harder against the smooth spot inside of her. Tingles and pressure built in her lower belly. Fireworks exploded below Misty’s mouth. “Oh, Misty!” Her vagina contracted around Misty’s fingers so tightly, she swore she could feel Misty’s pulse. “Oh… Mmm…” A post-coital haze swept her up into its arms. But as Misty sat up, the tip of the strap-on brushed against her leg, and her tired eyes fluttered open. “More?”

Misty crawled up beside her. “Rest a few minutes, first.” Cordelia’s hand slid down her side to her hip bone, and it followed the strap connected to the dildo and dipped beneath it into her soft reddish pubic hair. Her fingers found Misty’s inner labia drenched. “Hey… hands to yourself, now, darling.” She formed a cheeky grin.

“I want it.” Cordelia pulled on her by the dildo. “Give it to me. Take me.”

Misty rolled over on top of her. “God, you’re so beautiful.” She framed Cordelia’s messy hair and flushed face with her forearm, gazing into her eyes with adoration pouring from her. Misty wasn’t just lustful--she was aroused, yes, but she was also hopelessly, helplessly, in love with Cordelia, and her every touch pressed that love into Cordelia’s skin and caused tears to rise to her eyes. Fortunately, the tip of the dildo pressed right outside her vagina and shocked the sappiness right out of her. She nodded a mute encouragement.

The dildo slipped inside of her with the same ease of Misty’s fingers. Her body stretched to accommodate the familiar intrusion. She lifted her hips upward. Misty moved her hand from stabilizing the dildo to Cordelia’s clitoris. The phallus produced thick, sucking sounds as it moved into and out of her vagina, massaging the delicate spot inside of her. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back as she relished in the sensation of Misty’s lips on her neck and shoulders. The rhythm on her clitoris and in her body syncopated a song against her heartbeat and the flush of Misty’s breath against her face. “Good lord, Misty, I feel so good--” Her hands reached for Misty’s back, clinging to her shoulders. “Ah--”

She was sensitive from her first orgasm. As pangs of pleasure looped through her, she stifled a cry with each one. All of the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Misty’s fingers on her clitoris set her aching with desire. Icy fire covered her whole body. “Touch me!” The weight of Misty’s body settled on top of hers as she relinquished the hold of her forearm, but it didn’t crush her. It warmed her from head to toe. Misty’s free hand slid under her lower back. “Oh, god…”

Cordelia’s fingernails dug into Misty’s shoulders. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Misty’s scent was heady with sweat and the grit of their bodies pressed together. The scent of earth and wildflowers which always clung to Misty, marking her as feral, belonging to the earth first and to Cordelia second, burned in her nostrils. She never wanted to surrender the moment, though her body grew closer to its edge with every thrust of Misty’s hips and movement of her spidery fingers.

Misty dragged her nose right to the hull of Cordelia’s ear. “I love you so much,” she whispered. She plucked Cordelia’s earlobe between her teeth and tugged it.

“Ngh!” Cordelia’s hands dragged down Misty’s back. “I’m about to--oh, fuck. Oh, shit.” Her eyes fluttered wide. “Misty, I’m gonna--”

Misty pumped her hips harder and faster against Cordelia’s. The headboard slapped the wall with each jerk of her lower body. Tingles raced down Cordelia’s spine and spread through her vagina down her trembling thighs. Her jaw trembled, teeth all clacking together. Her vagina tightened around the strap-on until Misty couldn’t move it anymore for the tightness there. Turning her head, Misty placed sloppy kisses all over her neck and jaw. “Mm… I do love you,” she repeated.

It took Cordelia a moment to produce an intelligent response. “I love you, too…” She exhaled a long sigh. Misty tugged the strap-on out of her, and Cordelia fumbled to release her from its clutches, revealing the messy pubic hair underneath and the sopping labia. Cordelia rolled over onto her abdomen. “Come here.”

Sprawling out underneath her, Misty spread her legs eagerly. Cordelia wasted no time. She fondled her breasts for a few minutes, lapping at her nipples and flicking them with her thumbs, and she traced all of Misty’s scars and stretch marks with her fingertips as she headed downward between her legs. She spread Misty’s legs with a hand on each thigh and licked her lips as she admired all of the moisture gathered up inside of Misty, all of the arousal there. Her tongue scooped upward. She relished in the salty, acidic flavor of Misty’s vulva.

The tip of her tongue traced the crus of her clitoris. God, she tastes so wonderful. “Mm…” She couldn’t help but make the sound. Her fingers tightened where they grasped Misty’s thighs, leaving marks behind. Misty’s hips wriggled, pelvis grinding on the air, as she sought more direct attention from Cordelia’s tongue. Deciding to be merciful, Cordelia opened her mouth and flicked the tip of her tongue right over the bulbed head of Misty’s clitoris.

“Ngh!” The thin sound rose from Misty, but it quickly darkened and deepened into a growl of something much wilder than the human woman lying beneath her. She groaned and tangled her hands into Cordelia’s hair. Her fists tightened there. It stung Cordelia’s scalp. She enjoyed the encouragement. “Ugh!”

Misty couldn’t produce words, but Cordelia recognized the twitching in her clitoris, the tell-tale sign that she had reached the edge of her orgasm. “Agh!” Cordelia sucked on her clitoris harder than before. “Fuck!”

It was the only clear word she managed to say before her orgasm consumed her. Thick arousal flowed from her body. Cordelia eagerly lapped it up until the last contractions of pleasure had swept Misty away, and then she sidled up beside her on the bed. Misty blinked a few times, her pupils all dilated. Cordelia nudged her. Misty turned to look at her. “You were right,” Cordelia said. Misty arched an eyebrow. “I needed a break.”

A dark chuckle left Misty’s mouth. “Of course you did.” She caressed Cordelia’s hip. “Do you feel better now? Your head was hurting earlier.”

“Yeah, I do. How did you know?”

“You always rub your eyes when your head hurts.”

It was a small thing, but Cordelia knew no one else had noticed it. Misty alone was observant enough to take heed of such a tiny mannerism and think of it so nonchalantly. “I do. Feel better now. Thank you.” She brushed a thick lock of Misty’s hair out of her eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, darling.”

With an easy smile, Cordelia curled up in the crook of Misty’s arm. Her papers could wait. For right now, she was ready to sleep beside the woman she loved. Misty buried her face in her hair and inhaled deeply. She had never felt so safe before in her life.