everybody talks about thirteen year olds writing amazing fanfiction but nobody talks about #that one fic that was written by a thirty year old stranger on the internet that keeps you up at night and gives you terrible fomo
shout out if you're over 25 and writing fanfics i love you
everybody talks about thirteen year olds writing amazing fanfiction but nobody talks about #that one fic that was written by a thirty year old stranger on the internet that keeps you up at night and gives you terrible fomo
shout out if you're over 25 and writing fanfics i love you
growing up with melissa schemmenti as your mom (headcanons)
melissa schemmenti who checked under the bed for monsters every night without being asked. flashlight and everything.
melissa schemmenti who had your hair braided and your lunch packed before you were even fully awake, moving through the kitchen like she'd been up for hours.
melissa schemmenti teaching you to ride a bike by letting go before you felt ready. "you don't learn balance holdin' on."
melissa schemmenti who cleaned a scraped knee with one hand and kept stirring the sauce with the other, barely looking down. "you're fine. you're still standin', ain't you?"
melissa schemmenti who taught you to work dough with your hands before she ever let you touch a mixer. "flour ain't gonna bite ya. get in there."
melissa schemmenti who let you lick the spoon and pretended not to notice half the frosting never made it to the cupcakes.
melissa schemmenti who taught you to play cards before you could do long division. "never let 'em see your hand. not in cards, not in life."
melissa schemmenti who told you letters just liked to be difficult sometimes, and that didn't make you stupid, not for one second. she'd know.
melissa schemmenti who held a grudge against a teacher who embarrassed you in third grade for actual years. never said a word to the woman again. still brings her up like it happened yesterday.
melissa schemmenti who showed up at the school office the second she heard someone gave you trouble, calm as anything, terrifying as anything. "just wanna talk to somebody."
melissa schemmenti who didn't care about straight A's so much as whether you tried. "you gave it your best shot? good. now don't lie to me about it."
melissa schemmenti who started planning your halloween costume in july. no explanation. just fabric on the table one day and "trust me."
melissa schemmenti who packed the car with folding chairs, a cooler, and every cousin she could round up for a friday night game like it was a family obligation. because it was.
melissa schemmenti who showed up to every backyard trampoline afternoon with a bag of philly pretzels, "so nobody's whinin' about bein' hungry in an hour."
melissa schemmenti at sunday dinners, gravy on the stove since morning, the house so loud with cousins you couldn't hear yourself think, and somehow she still heard you the second you needed her.
melissa schemmenti who kept a fleetwood mac cd in the glovebox for the days she didn't feel like talking, and you learned real quick not to ask.
melissa schemmenti whose kitchen always smelled like garlic and sunday gravy. never measured a thing in her life. smacked your hand if you went for a taste before she said so.
melissa schemmenti who drove with the windows down and the radio too loud, singing off key to billy joel, and you pretended to be embarrassed but you weren't, not really.
melissa schemmenti who watched rocky with you every single time it was on, no matter how many times that was, mouthing half the lines without meaning to.
melissa schemmenti who taught you which uncle to actually listen to and which ones were, her words, "full of it."
melissa schemmenti who yelled at the eagles game like the refs could hear her all the way from south philly.
melissa schemmenti who had opinions about your music before the song even finished.
melissa schemmenti who sat you down before your first day of high school and said exactly one thing. "you don't gotta be liked. you gotta be respected. big difference."
melissa schemmenti in the passenger seat for your first driving lesson, white knuckled, yelling directions half a block before you needed them, and still handing you the keys again the next day.
melissa schemmenti who never had extra money lying around but you never once felt like you were missing something. she made sure of that, quietly, every time.
melissa schemmenti who stayed up way later than she let on, waiting to hear the front door, pretending she'd just been up watching action news.
melissa schemmenti after your first heartbreak, who didn't say much, just made your favorite food and sat with you until you were ready to talk. and when you were, she just listened. no lecture. that came later.
melissa schemmenti who met the first person you brought home with a look that could strip paint off a wall, then made them a plate anyway.
melissa schemmenti who showed up early to every school thing and sat facing the door, pure habit, no real reason she could give you.
melissa schemmenti who dropped you off on the first day of somewhere new, all bravado in the car and quiet a block away, watching in the rearview a second longer than she needed to.
melissa schemmenti who let you go when it was time, packed your car herself, cried in the house after you pulled away and denied it completely when you called that night.
melissa schemmenti who never said "i love you" much with words when you were a kid. she said it in pretzels. in dough under your fingernails. in a yard full of cousins she never once told to go home.
ava's rough night with o'shon leads to a complete mess.
hello avamel people!! this is an insane update. enjoy. i might have overdone it a bit but pinky promise i will stop beating them up in chapter 3 im sorry
NSFW! (1.9k words) mdni! needy!reader, after school, toxic relationships, lowk ooc but im choosing to ignore that, thigh riding, "no touching", one-sided (or is it?) nicknames (sweet girl etc.) again unhappy ending srry
part 1, i promise i'll make this mess work people, but for now take this. again thx to @ccandlehead for putting this idea in my head :p
you have been distracted, the whole week ever since that thursday night. the weekend afterwards was bliss, you didn't have to see her, barely thought about her. but the whole week after till it led to friday, was torture. you were on edge, confused, distracted because barbara acted like nothing happened. she kept the same watchful gaze over you, the same possessiveness that drove you crazy. you weren't attentive, always distraught. kept recalling that night, how barbara had left you dazed and disoriented.
you haven't spoken to her in private ever since, avoiding her at all costs. but finally, she had gotten to you. tired after a long week of trying to catch up with the pace of the children, constantly out of it due to the recollections of barbara. barbara holding you, kissing you, touching your neck, her hands almost on your chest. barbara walking away, leaving you high and dry. every time barbara leans over one of the desks and you stare, transfixed.
the school is deserted, everyone had left, even mr. johnson. barbara had given you the kids’ paintings to hang on the wall and you’re done, the last one of them hanging on the wall. but you stand still, unmoving and staring at the wall, devoid of thought.
“sweetheart.” barbara calls, it’s in your head, coming through a haze. you’re sure it’s not really her, she’s left already. it’s the barbara in your imaginations, the one you pictured all week long. it can’t be real.
barbara calls your name, twice. and you turn to leave, trying to silence the voice in your head. that’s when you come into a halt upon seeing barbara in the flesh, sitting on her chair by the desk. “come here.” she says and you oblige, under her spell. how can you refuse her?
she starts to move away the stuff on the desk that are directly in front of her. this is unnerving but you walk over nonetheless. you haven’t been alone in the same room with her this whole week, you are left with that scary revelation. and she waits till you’re standing between her and the desk, not looking her in the eyes.
“you've been so distracted for the last week sweetheart. i feel i need to do something about it." she says, low like a whisper yet loud in the middle of the classroom. at school. is she referring to-
something. anything. you would have anything as long as it comes from her.
she doesn’t explain, not at first. her right hand finds your hip, you standing as one with the desk. she touches the fabric of your skirt, and retreats back suddenly like it burns. burns to touch the skin that was against hers just eight days ago. you would be lying if it didn’t leave a deep crack in your heart.
“i can't touch you, not this time. it's too…" oh. oh, no. this is what you think it is.
it’s too what? sinful? dangerous? filthy? seeing the barbara howard out of words was confusing.
barbara swallows, the lack of saliva leaving her throat itchy and dry. she speaks, raspy, like a secret she can’t give anyone but you. “you will have to take…” she takes a deep breath through her nose, “take what you need.” not what she needs. what you need. because barbara doesn’t need this. “will have to do all the work by yourself. and this…” she gestures between your bodies, “can’t leave anywhere else.”
you look down at barbara with those eyes that seem bigger than ever, yet you feel like she’s the one in charge here, you could as well be down on your knees.
“understood?” she asks. you nod briskly. it doesn’t take long after that, barbara making you turn around with a motion of her finger, you already drooling at the prospect of being near her, forgetting all the misery of a week now that there is her at stake. you position yourself on barbara’s left thigh, facing the classroom with little to no help from her. your feet touch the floor, your crotch against her clothed thigh. even from your back turned to her you can tell from the low hiss that she has her eyes hooded, laying back on her chair as if it’s a throne, and can feel your heat. you start moving, experimenting, the feeling of her thick, soft thigh between your legs. your eyes close on their own, instantly recalling memories from a week ago, the two of you not far from this position. you let out a gasp and instantly close your mouth, waiting for barbara’s response. when she doesn’t give any you hold onto the desk with both hands, grinding down and moving from the waist. each tug of her pants against the fabric of your panties is driving you closer. her scent you can almost feel in your nose, your eyes shut and a focused expression on your face.
then, barbara sighs out, loudly and your eyes snap open. the classroom lit with the setting sun in front of you, imagining barbara there and you’re rolling far away from your climax rapidly, the spell broken. “i can’t.” you huff out, squirming a bit and closing your eyes again, trying to get back on track because you need this orgasm. you need her.
barbara rubs at your back. “yes you can sweetheart. try harder for me.” a soft, steady hand running up and down your spine. it's cruel, the chosen touch, the way she can touch you there if she wishes to but you can't see her. it’s even more cruel that it soothes you instantly.
“can i turn around? please?” you rest your forehead against the desk, in defeat, looking down at your feet in between barbara’s. it feels hideous now. every word. but barbara whispers once again, “okay.” holds your hip once more, even momentarily.
you are up on your feet the moment it leaves her mouth, settling back down on her thigh, her legs spread. facing her without touching, without looking directly. it already feels better. you adjust your skirt and start moving, in a slow, agonizing pace. you fix your eyes on a spot low on her collarbone, near the top of her chest. you wonder if you left a mark there, would barbara look back at it and remember you tomorrow? would she think of you in the darkness of her bedroom, lying next to her husband? would she cover it up with a mix of foundation and shame?
both hands bracing the armrests, it's an awkward place to hold. but barbara made herself clear, you can't reach out, not even to position yourself. her own hands rest at her sides, looking awfully uncomfortable from the ground rules she laid out. her eyes fixated on the ground next to you and she's breathing loud, louder than last week. you keep moving, hips grinding in a desperate effort for release, trying to conjure the expression on her face.
you can look though, she's literally there. you are on her, why can't you look?
you keep working yourself and quiet gasps escape your mouth. the feeling almost there, her thigh in between and you moan out. louder than before. embarrassed, you bite down on your lower lip, stifling your moans, head falling forward to her chest. your forehead almost touching her skin and the scent of her sweat against your nose. that's when barbara looks at you.
“don't do that." she whispers, cupping your jaw and touching your lip between your teeth. you look up at her, the motion of your hips coming to a halt, eyes huge. barbara smiles vaguely, a solemn feeling at her dilated pupils the chocolate browns surrounding them. she thumbs at your lower lip, releasing it from your teeth and you stare at her, mouth agape.
let me hear you,
slowly, so slowly you begin to move once more. barbara keeps her hand where it is, touching your lower lip with her thumb. you want to feel it in your mouth and barbara beats you to it, inserting the finger between your lips and pressing down at your tongue. you moan, deeply, sucking on what's offered and moving more fervently. emboldened by her movements you let go of the armrests and hold barbara, exactly where you want to. you grab her hips, her lower waist, squeezing the flesh through her clothing and pulling desperately. your eyes not leave her wide ones, not once as she keeps pushing the pad of her thumb in sync with your movements.
you groan, lips parting and barbara’s finger dropping. “i know baby… i know.” she coos and you ride on her, harder and harder. panting and afraid to say her name. your saliva escapes your mouth with barbara's thumb, your lips parting with pleasure, nearing your climax. barbara chuckles, cruelly and smears the drool to your cheek with her index and middle finger. you look her right in the eyes as she lifts the same two fingers, inspecting before pulling them into her mouth. you moan, louder than ever and the sound is obscene. the sucking sounds coming from barbara's mouth, fabric rustling in between your legs, your gasps loud as you keep steady eye contact.
this has to be a dream. because a second later barbara releases her fingers from her mouth and inserts them into yours in return. her free hand finds your waist, mirroring your own around barbara's body, and she pulls you down onto her. you're so close and the taste of barbara's spit in your mouth has your eyes rolling back.
barbara knows this is wrong. so so wrong. yet she can't take her eyes away. grabbing onto your dress, pulling it up slightly to see where you're moving against her. her fingers still in your mouth as she watches you suck on them like a starved woman. you can feel the high of your climax nearing, barbara let's go of your waist and touches your face with the same hand. her fingers grazing against your cheek, the bridge of your nose. “so pretty… such a sweet girl for me.” she mutters and your mouth parts once again, "please, please bar-”
“sshhh…" she shushes you and you kiss her fingers, any part of her skin in front of your mouth, her palm, the back of it, so close. you are so wet you're sure barbara can feel it through her pants. “let go…” she whispers, "let go for me sweetheart.”
"barbara.” you moan, toppling over the edge at the image of your wetness smearing her black pants and her going home like that.
your head falls forward into her chest, skin finally touching skin, the spot you were eyeing moments ago just in front of your mouth now. you come back to yourself with the urge to bite her skin and barbara's soothing hands behind your back. barbara jumps back and stops the movement of her hands abruptly, like she just realized you noticed her. and before you can say anything, she's pushing you off and helping you sit up on the desk, neatly. like you're made of glass, like she's apologizing with every motion.
barbara looks at you, once more. her hand comes up to cup your cheek, you are still heaving with breath from the orgasm. barbara runs her hand up and down the side of your face, touching your hair delicately. a solemn expression on her face.
“see you on monday sweetheart.” grabs her bag and turns around to the door, leaving you out in the open, vulnerable once more. just before she can turn around your eyes find the spot on her pants, damp and a darker shade visible to your eyes. fucking hell.
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sorry this was a bit short ^^ i have nothing else to say for myself
